commit b4fdc98f106b7af71ba4fff0d0dfac64c5007554 Author: pants Date: Wed Mar 18 00:39:35 2026 -0700 init diff --git a/Bomb.java b/Bomb.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..955a43f --- /dev/null +++ b/Bomb.java @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ +import java.io.*; + +public class Bomb { + public static final int START = 124; + public static final int CODE_LENGTH = 6; + + public static void defuse(String code) throws Exception { + if (code.length() != CODE_LENGTH) { + throw new Bomb.Explosion(); + } + + String curr = Integer.toHexString(CODE_LENGTH); + for (int i = 1; i < CODE_LENGTH; i++) { + curr = scramble(curr); + if (curr.charAt(1) != code.charAt(i)) { + throw new Bomb.Explosion(); + } + } + } + + private static String scramble(String secret) { + return Integer.toHexString(Integer.parseInt(secret, 16) * 0xA9 / 0b010011); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) throws Exception { + System.out.println(); + System.out.println("Bomb armed and ready for defusal."); + System.setOut(new PrintStream(new OutputStream() { public void write(int b) {} })); + + // defuse("21d74"); // TODO: Find the code, hurry! + defuse("000000"); + System.setOut(SYSTEM_OUT); + System.out.println("Bomb defused! You saved the day!"); + System.out.println(); + } + + public static final PrintStream SYSTEM_OUT = System.out; + private static class Explosion extends RuntimeException { + public Explosion() { super("BOOM"); } + } +} diff --git a/c1/AbstractStrategyGame.java b/c1/AbstractStrategyGame.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..430aff5 --- /dev/null +++ b/c1/AbstractStrategyGame.java @@ -0,0 +1,47 @@ +import java.util.*; + +/** +* A strategy game where all players have perfect information and no theme +* or narrative around gameplay. +*/ +public abstract class AbstractStrategyGame { + /** + * Constructs and returns a String describing how to play the game. Should include + * any relevant details on how to interpret the game state as returned by toString(), + * how to make moves, the game end condition, and how to win. + */ + public abstract String instructions(); + + /** + * Constructs and returns a String representation of the current game state. + * This representation should contain all information that should be known to + * players at any point in the game, including board state (if any) and scores (if any). + */ + public abstract String toString(); + + /** + * Returns true if the game has ended, and false otherwise. + */ + public boolean isGameOver() { + return getWinner() != -1; + } + + /** + * Returns the index of the player who has won the game, + * or -1 if the game is not over. + */ + public abstract int getWinner(); + + /** + * Returns the index of the player who will take the next turn. + * If the game is over, returns -1. + */ + public abstract int getNextPlayer(); + + /** + * Takes input from the parameter to specify the move the player + * with the next turn wishes to make, then executes that move. + * If any part of the move is illegal, throws an IllegalArgumentException. + */ + public abstract void makeMove(Scanner input); +} diff --git a/c1/Client.java b/c1/Client.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3bde980 --- /dev/null +++ b/c1/Client.java @@ -0,0 +1,36 @@ +import java.util.*; + +public class Client { + public static void main(String[] args) { + Scanner console = new Scanner(System.in); + AbstractStrategyGame game = new ConnectFour("dude", "bro"); + + System.out.println(game.instructions()); + System.out.println(); + + while (!game.isGameOver()) { + System.out.println(game); + System.out.printf("Player %d's turn.\n", game.getNextPlayer()); + try { + game.makeMove(console); + } catch (IllegalArgumentException ex) { + System.out.println("**Illegal move: " + ex.getMessage()); + } + /** + * Note - the above structure is a try/catch, which is something + * we've included to help deal with the IllegalArgumentExceptions + * in your abstract strategy game! + * We want to remind you that try/catch is a forbidden feature in 123, + * so you SHOULD NOT INCLUDE IT in any code you submit (other than this file)! + * Please see the Code Quality Guide for more info on this. + */ + } + System.out.println(game); + int winner = game.getWinner(); + if (winner > 0) { + System.out.printf("Player %d wins!\n", winner); + } else { + System.out.println("It's a tie!"); + } + } +} diff --git a/c1/ConnectFour.java b/c1/ConnectFour.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..642b798 --- /dev/null +++ b/c1/ConnectFour.java @@ -0,0 +1,117 @@ +// Nik Johnson +// 4-15-2024 +// TA: Zachary Bi + +import java.util.*; + +public class ConnectFour extends AbstractStrategyGame { + + private char[][] board; + private int currentPlayer; + private String[] players; + private List playerSymbols; + + public ConnectFour(String player1, String player2) { + this.board = new char[6][7]; + this.players = new String[2]; + this.playerSymbols = new ArrayList<>(); + this.currentPlayer = 0; + players[0] = player1; + players[1] = player2; + playerSymbols.add('X'); + playerSymbols.add('O'); + + // initialize empty board + for (int i = 0; i < board.length; i++) { + for (int n = 0; n < board[i].length; n++) { + board[i][n] = ' '; + } + } + } + + public String instructions() { + String output = ""; + + output += "Welcome to Connect Four! This game consists of a 7x6 grid, each column of"; + output += " which you may choose to 'drop' a disc down by inputting numbers 1-7.\n"; + output += "Player 1's symbol is 'X', Player 2's is 'O'\n"; + output += "To win, you must place 4 of your discs in a row, vertically or horizontally.\n"; + output += "Have fun!"; + + return output; + } + + // constructs game board in readable format + // no parameters + // returns formatted representation of game board + public String toString() { + String output = ""; + for (char[] row : board) { + for (char loc : row) { + output += "[" + loc + "]"; + } + output += "\n"; + } + return output; + } + + + public int getWinner() { + // rows + for (int i = 0; i < board.length; i++) { + for (int j = 0; j <= board[i].length - 4; j++) { + char symbol = board[i][j]; + if (symbol != ' ' && board[i][j + 1] == symbol && board[i][j + 2] == symbol && board[i][j + 3] == symbol) { + return playerSymbols.indexOf(symbol) + 1; + } + } + } + + // columns + for (int j = 0; j < board[0].length; j++) { + for (int i = 0; i <= board.length - 4; i++) { + char symbol = board[i][j]; + if (symbol != ' ' && board[i + 1][j] == symbol && board[i + 2][j] == symbol && board[i + 3][j] == symbol) { + return playerSymbols.indexOf(symbol) + 1; + } + } + } + + return -1; +} + + + + + public int getNextPlayer() { + return this.currentPlayer + 1; + } + + public void makeMove(Scanner input) { + System.out.println(players[getNextPlayer() - 1] + ": Choose a column (1-7)"); + int col = Integer.parseInt(input.next()) - 1; + + if (col < 0 || col > 6) { + throw new IllegalArgumentException("selected column out of bounds"); + } + + boolean notPlaced = true; + for (int n = board.length - 1; n >= 0 && notPlaced; n--) { + if (board[n][col] == ' ') { + if (currentPlayer == 0) { + board[n][col] = 'X'; + } else if (currentPlayer == 1) { + board[n][col] = 'O'; + } + notPlaced = false; + } + } + + if (currentPlayer == 0) { + currentPlayer = 1; + } else if (currentPlayer == 1) { + currentPlayer = 0; + } + } + +} diff --git a/c1/Testing.java b/c1/Testing.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..34837d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/c1/Testing.java @@ -0,0 +1,53 @@ +import org.junit.jupiter.api.*; +import static org.junit.jupiter.api.Assertions.*; +import java.util.*; + +public class Testing { + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST CASE - Small TicTacToe Example") + public void firstCaseTest() { + AbstractStrategyGame g = new TicTacToe(); + + // You can add optional error messages that will be displayed if a test fails + assertEquals(1, g.getNextPlayer(), "Player 1 not next player after construction"); + assertEquals(-1, g.getWinner(), "Winner incorrectly declared after construction"); + assertFalse(g.isGameOver(), "Game over immediately after construction"); + + // Weird way we're going to make moves - make our own scanners NOT + // connected to System.in. Since we can make Scanners over strings this will + // work the exact way and allow us to control input! + g.makeMove(new Scanner("0 0")); + assertEquals(2, g.getNextPlayer(), "Player 2 not next player after a single move"); + assertEquals(-1, g.getWinner(), "Winner incorrectly declared after a single move"); + assertFalse(g.isGameOver(), "Game over immediately after construction"); + + assertThrows(IllegalArgumentException.class, () -> { + // -1 is an illegal move so our code should throw an IllegalArgumentException + g.makeMove(new Scanner("-1 2")); + }, "IllegalArgumentException not thrown for illegal move"); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST CASE - Large TicTacToe Example") + public void secondCaseTest() { + // You definitely don't have to get this fancy in your tests! + AbstractStrategyGame g = new TicTacToe(); + + // Going to play a whole game where 1 plays in first row, 2 plays in second row + // No optional error messages - up to you if you want your code to be easier to debug! + for (int i = 0; i < 5; i++) { + int player = (i % 2) + 1; + assertEquals(player, g.getNextPlayer()); + assertFalse(g.isGameOver()); + + int col = i / 2; + g.makeMove(new Scanner(player + " " + col)); + } + + // At this point, 5 moves have been played, player 1 should have three in a row and + // player 2 should have two + assertTrue(g.isGameOver()); + assertEquals(1, g.getWinner()); + assertEquals(-1, g.getNextPlayer()); + } +} diff --git a/c1/TicTacToe.java b/c1/TicTacToe.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd2343a --- /dev/null +++ b/c1/TicTacToe.java @@ -0,0 +1,132 @@ +// **THIS IS AN EXAMPLE IMPLEMENTATION!** +// Brett Wortzman +// CSE 123 +// C0: Abstract Strategy Games +// +// A class to represent a game of tic-tac-toe that implements the +// AbstractStrategyGame interface. +import java.util.*; + +public class TicTacToe extends AbstractStrategyGame { + private char[][] board; + private boolean isXTurn; + + // Constructs a new TicTacToe game. + public TicTacToe() { + board = new char[][]{{'-', '-', '-'}, + {'-', '-', '-'}, + {'-', '-', '-'}}; + isXTurn = true; + } + + // Returns whether or not the game is over. + public boolean isGameOver() { + return getWinner() >= 0; + } + + // Returns the index of the winner of the game. + // 1 if player 1 (X), 2 if player 2 (O), 0 if a tie occurred, + // and -1 if the game is not over. + public int getWinner() { + for (int i = 0; i < board.length; i++) { + // check row i + if (board[i][0] == board[i][1] && board[i][0] == board[i][2] && board[i][0] != '-') { + return board[i][0] == 'X' ? 1 : 2; + } + + // check col i + if (board[0][i] == board[1][i] && board[0][i] == board[2][i] && board[0][i] != '-') { + return board[0][i] == 'X' ? 1 : 2; + } + } + + // check diagonals + if (board[0][0] == board[1][1] && board[0][0] == board[2][2] && board[0][0] != '-') { + return board[0][0] == 'X' ? 1 : 2; + } + if (board[0][2] == board[1][1] && board[0][2] == board[2][0] && board[0][2] != '-') { + return board[0][2] == 'X' ? 1 : 2; + } + + // check for tie + for (int i = 0; i < board.length; i++) { + for (int j = 0; j < board[i].length; j++) { + if (board[i][j] == '-') { + // unfilled space; game not over + return -1; + } + } + } + + // it's a tie! + return 0; + } + + // Returns the index of which player's turn it is. + // 1 if player 1 (X), 2 if player 2 (O), -1 if the game is over + public int getNextPlayer() { + if (isGameOver()) { + return -1; + } + return isXTurn ? 1 : 2; + } + + // Given the input, places an X or an O where + // the player specifies. + // Throws an IllegalArgumentException if the position is + // invalid, whether that be out of bounds or already occupied. + // Board bounds are [0, 2] for both rows and cols. + public void makeMove(Scanner input) { + char currPlayer = isXTurn ? 'X' : 'O'; + + System.out.print("Row? "); + int row = input.nextInt(); + System.out.print("Column? "); + int col = input.nextInt(); + + makeMove(row, col, currPlayer); + isXTurn = !isXTurn; + } + + // Private helper method for makeMove. + // Given a row and col, as well as player index, + // places an X or an O in that row and col. + // Throws an IllegalArgumentException if the position is + // invalid, whether that be out of bounds or already occupied. + // Board bounds are [0, 2] for both rows and cols. + private void makeMove(int row, int col, char player) { + if (row < 0 || row >= board.length || + col < 0 || col >= board[0].length) { + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Invalid board position: " + row + "," + col); + } + + if (board[row][col] != '-') { + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Space already occupied: " + row + "," + col); + } + + board[row][col] = player; + } + + // Returns a String containing instructions to play the game. + public String instructions() { + String result = ""; + result += "Player 1 is X and goes first. Choose where to play by entering a row and\n"; + result += "column number, where (0, 0) is the upper left and (2, 2) is the lower right.\n"; + result += "Spaces show as a - are empty. The game ends when one player marks three spaces\n"; + result += "in a row, in which case that player wins, or when the board is full, in which\n"; + result += "case the game ends in a tie."; + return result; + } + + // Returns a String representation of the current state of the board. + public String toString() { + String result = ""; + for (int i = 0; i < board.length; i++) { + for (int j = 0; j < board.length; j++) { + result += board[i][j] + " "; + } + result += "\n"; + } + return result; + } +} diff --git a/ciphers/4as0ufZh9PpgbDEj0M0prBKp b/ciphers/4as0ufZh9PpgbDEj0M0prBKp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a800809 Binary files /dev/null and b/ciphers/4as0ufZh9PpgbDEj0M0prBKp differ diff --git a/ciphers/Cipher.java b/ciphers/Cipher.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b889f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/Cipher.java @@ -0,0 +1,49 @@ +import java.util.*; +import java.io.*; + +// Represents a classical cipher that is able to encode a plaintext into a ciphertext, and +// decode a ciphertext into a plaintext. Also capable of encoding and decoding entire files + +public abstract class Cipher { + // The minimum character able to be encoded by any cipher + public static final int MIN_CHAR = (int)(' '); + + // The maximum character able to be encoded by any cipher + public static final int MAX_CHAR = (int)('}'); + + // The total number of characters able to be encoded by any cipher (aka. the encodable range) + public static final int TOTAL_CHARS = MAX_CHAR - MIN_CHAR + 1; + + // Pre: Throws a FileNotFoundException if a file with the provided 'fileName' doesn't exist + // Post: Applies this Cipher's encryption scheme to the file with the given 'fileName', creating + // a new file to store the results. + public void encryptFile(String fileName) throws FileNotFoundException { + fileHelper(fileName, true, "-encoded"); + } + + // Pre: Throws a FileNotFoundException if a file with the provided 'fileName' doesn't exist + // Post: Applies this Cipher's decryption scheme (reversing a single round of encryption if applied) + // to the file with the given 'fileName', creating a new file to store the results. + public void decryptFile(String fileName) throws FileNotFoundException { + fileHelper(fileName, false, "-decoded"); + } + + // Pre: Throws a FileNotFoundException if a file with the provided 'fileName' doesn't exist + // Post: Reads from an input file with 'fileName', either encrypting or decrypting depending on 'encode', + // printing the results to a new file with 'suffix' appended to the input file's name + private void fileHelper(String fileName, boolean encode, String suffix) throws FileNotFoundException{ + Scanner sc = new Scanner(new File(fileName)); + String out = fileName.split("\\.txt")[0] + suffix + ".txt"; + PrintStream ps = new PrintStream(out); + while(sc.hasNextLine()) { + String line = sc.nextLine(); + ps.println(encode ? encrypt(line) : decrypt(line)); + } + } + + // Post: Returns the result of applying this Cipher's encryption scheme to 'input' + public abstract String encrypt(String input); + + // Post: Returns the result of applying this Cipher's decryption scheme to 'input' + public abstract String decrypt(String input); +} diff --git a/ciphers/Client.java b/ciphers/Client.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb87354 --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/Client.java @@ -0,0 +1,45 @@ +import java.util.*; +import java.io.*; + +public class Client { + // TODO: Change this line once you've implemented a cipher! + public static final Cipher CHOSEN_CIPHER = null; + + // (we also encourage you to change Cipher.MIN_CHAR and Cipher.MAX_CHAR when testing!) + public static void main(String[] args) throws FileNotFoundException { + Scanner console = new Scanner(System.in); + System.out.println("Welcome to the CSE 123 cryptography application!"); + System.out.println("What would you like to do?"); + int chosen = -1; + do { + System.out.println(); + System.out.println("(1) Encode / (2) Decode a string"); + System.out.println("(3) Encode / (4) Decode a file"); + System.out.println("(5) Quit"); + System.out.print("Enter your choice here: "); + + chosen = Integer.parseInt(console.nextLine()); + while (chosen < 1 || chosen > 5) { + System.out.print("Please enter a valid option from above: "); + chosen = Integer.parseInt(console.nextLine()); + } + + if (chosen == 1 || chosen == 2) { + System.out.println("Please enter the string you'd like to " + + (chosen == 1 ? "encode" : "decode") + ": "); + String input = console.nextLine(); + System.out.println(chosen == 1 ? CHOSEN_CIPHER.encrypt(input) : + CHOSEN_CIPHER.decrypt(input)); + } else if (chosen == 3 || chosen == 4) { + System.out.print("Please enter the name of the file you'd like to " + + (chosen == 3 ? "encode" : "decode") + ": "); + String fileName = console.nextLine(); + if (chosen == 3) { + CHOSEN_CIPHER.encryptFile(fileName); + } else { + CHOSEN_CIPHER.decryptFile(fileName); + } + } + } while (chosen != 5); + } +} diff --git a/ciphers/SubstitutionRandom.java b/ciphers/SubstitutionRandom.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5646a7b --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/SubstitutionRandom.java @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +// TODO: Write your implementation to SubstitutionRandom here! +import java.util.*; + +public class SubstitutionRandom extends Substitution { + public static void main(String[] args) { + Random balls = new Random(); + int boner = balls.nextInt(4); + System.out.println(boner); + Collections.shuffle() + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/ciphers/Testing.java b/ciphers/Testing.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f68bc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/Testing.java @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +import org.junit.jupiter.api.*; +import static org.junit.jupiter.api.Assertions.*; +import static org.junit.Assume.assumeTrue; +import java.util.*; + +public class Testing { + + @Test + @DisplayName("TODO: 1 Your Extension - ' '-'}' Shifter") + public void thirdCaseTest() { + assertTrue(false, "Not yet implemented!"); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("TODO: 1 Your Extension - ' '-'}' Shifter") + public void thirdCaseTest() { + assertTrue(false, "Not yet implemented!"); + } +} diff --git a/ciphers/Transposition.java b/ciphers/Transposition.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fd600f --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/Transposition.java @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +// TODO: Write your implementation to Transposition here! diff --git a/ciphers/Vigenere.java b/ciphers/Vigenere.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4179ee2 --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/Vigenere.java @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +// TODO: Write your implementation to Vigenere here! diff --git a/ciphers/files/ag.txt b/ciphers/files/ag.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d37bfad --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/files/ag.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +HADBADCABBAGEBAG diff --git a/ciphers/files/hamlet.txt b/ciphers/files/hamlet.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7911011 --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/files/hamlet.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4463 @@ + +1604 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Claudius, King of Denmark. + Marcellus, Officer. + Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present king. + Polonius, Lord Chamberlain. + Horatio, friend to Hamlet. + Laertes, son to Polonius. + Voltemand, courtier. + Cornelius, courtier. + Rosencrantz, courtier. + Guildenstern, courtier. + Osric, courtier. + A Gentleman, courtier. + A Priest. + Marcellus, officer. + Bernardo, officer. + Francisco, a soldier + Reynaldo, servant to Polonius. + Players. + Two Clowns, gravediggers. + Fortinbras, Prince of Norway. + A Norwegian Captain. + English Ambassadors. + + Getrude, Queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet. + Ophelia, daughter to Polonius. + + Ghost of Hamlet's Father. + + Lords, ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, Attendants. + + + + + +SCENE.- Elsinore. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +Elsinore. A platform before the Castle. + +Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down +at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him]. + + Ber. Who's there.? + Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. + Ber. Long live the King! + Fran. Bernardo? + Ber. He. + Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. + Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. + Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, + And I am sick at heart. + Ber. Have you had quiet guard? + Fran. Not a mouse stirring. + Ber. Well, good night. + If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, + The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? + Hor. Friends to this ground. + Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. + Fran. Give you good night. + Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier. + Who hath reliev'd you? + Fran. Bernardo hath my place. + Give you good night. Exit. + Mar. Holla, Bernardo! + Ber. Say- + What, is Horatio there ? + Hor. A piece of him. + Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus. + Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? + Ber. I have seen nothing. + Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, + And will not let belief take hold of him + Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. + Therefore I have entreated him along, + With us to watch the minutes of this night, + That, if again this apparition come, + He may approve our eyes and speak to it. + Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. + Ber. Sit down awhile, + And let us once again assail your ears, + That are so fortified against our story, + What we two nights have seen. + Hor. Well, sit we down, + And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. + Ber. Last night of all, + When yond same star that's westward from the pole + Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one- + + Enter Ghost. + + Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again! + Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead. + Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. + Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio. + Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder. + Ber. It would be spoke to. + Mar. Question it, Horatio. + Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night + Together with that fair and warlike form + In which the majesty of buried Denmark + Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak! + Mar. It is offended. + Ber. See, it stalks away! + Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak! + Exit Ghost. + Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer. + Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale. + Is not this something more than fantasy? + What think you on't? + Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe + Without the sensible and true avouch + Of mine own eyes. + Mar. Is it not like the King? + Hor. As thou art to thyself. + Such was the very armour he had on + When he th' ambitious Norway combated. + So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle, + He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. + 'Tis strange. + Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not; + But, in the gross and scope of my opinion, + This bodes some strange eruption to our state. + Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows, + Why this same strict and most observant watch + So nightly toils the subject of the land, + And why such daily cast of brazen cannon + And foreign mart for implements of war; + Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task + Does not divide the Sunday from the week. + What might be toward, that this sweaty haste + Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day? + Who is't that can inform me? + Hor. That can I. + At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, + Whose image even but now appear'd to us, + Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, + Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, + Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet + (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him) + Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact, + Well ratified by law and heraldry, + Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands + Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror; + Against the which a moiety competent + Was gaged by our king; which had return'd + To the inheritance of Fortinbras, + Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same comart + And carriage of the article design'd, + His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, + Of unimproved mettle hot and full, + Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, + Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, + For food and diet, to some enterprise + That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, + As it doth well appear unto our state, + But to recover of us, by strong hand + And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands + So by his father lost; and this, I take it, + Is the main motive of our preparations, + The source of this our watch, and the chief head + Of this post-haste and romage in the land. + Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so. + Well may it sort that this portentous figure + Comes armed through our watch, so like the King + That was and is the question of these wars. + Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. + In the most high and palmy state of Rome, + A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, + The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead + Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; + As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, + Disasters in the sun; and the moist star + Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands + Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. + And even the like precurse of fierce events, + As harbingers preceding still the fates + And prologue to the omen coming on, + Have heaven and earth together demonstrated + Unto our climature and countrymen. + + Enter Ghost again. + + But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again! + I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion! + Spreads his arms. + If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, + Speak to me. + If there be any good thing to be done, + That may to thee do ease, and, race to me, + Speak to me. + If thou art privy to thy country's fate, + Which happily foreknowing may avoid, + O, speak! + Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life + Extorted treasure in the womb of earth + (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death), + The cock crows. + Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus! + Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan? + Hor. Do, if it will not stand. + Ber. 'Tis here! + Hor. 'Tis here! + Mar. 'Tis gone! + Exit Ghost. + We do it wrong, being so majestical, + To offer it the show of violence; + For it is as the air, invulnerable, + And our vain blows malicious mockery. + Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. + Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing + Upon a fearful summons. I have heard + The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, + Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat + Awake the god of day; and at his warning, + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine; and of the truth herein + This present object made probation. + Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. + Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes + Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, + The bird of dawning singeth all night long; + And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, + The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, + So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. + Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it. + But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. + Break we our watch up; and by my advice + Let us impart what we have seen to-night + Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, + This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. + Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, + As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? + Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know + Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, +Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia, [Voltemand, Cornelius,] +Lords Attendant. + + King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death + The memory be green, and that it us befitted + To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom + To be contracted in one brow of woe, + Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature + That we with wisest sorrow think on him + Together with remembrance of ourselves. + Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, + Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, + Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, + With an auspicious, and a dropping eye, + With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, + In equal scale weighing delight and dole, + Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd + Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone + With this affair along. For all, our thanks. + Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, + Holding a weak supposal of our worth, + Or thinking by our late dear brother's death + Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, + Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, + He hath not fail'd to pester us with message + Importing the surrender of those lands + Lost by his father, with all bands of law, + To our most valiant brother. So much for him. + Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. + Thus much the business is: we have here writ + To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, + Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears + Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress + His further gait herein, in that the levies, + The lists, and full proportions are all made + Out of his subject; and we here dispatch + You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, + For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, + Giving to you no further personal power + To business with the King, more than the scope + Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.] + Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. + Cor., Volt. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. + King. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell. + Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius. + And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? + You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes? + You cannot speak of reason to the Dane + And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, + That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth, + Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. + What wouldst thou have, Laertes? + Laer. My dread lord, + Your leave and favour to return to France; + From whence though willingly I came to Denmark + To show my duty in your coronation, + Yet now I must confess, that duty done, + My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France + And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. + King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? + Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave + By laboursome petition, and at last + Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent. + I do beseech you give him leave to go. + King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine, + And thy best graces spend it at thy will! + But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son- + Ham. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind! + King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? + Ham. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun. + Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, + And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. + Do not for ever with thy vailed lids + Seek for thy noble father in the dust. + Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die, + Passing through nature to eternity. + Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. + Queen. If it be, + Why seems it so particular with thee? + Ham. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.' + 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, + Nor customary suits of solemn black, + Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, + No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, + Nor the dejected havior of the visage, + Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, + 'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem, + For they are actions that a man might play; + But I have that within which passeth show- + These but the trappings and the suits of woe. + King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, + To give these mourning duties to your father; + But you must know, your father lost a father; + That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound + In filial obligation for some term + To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever + In obstinate condolement is a course + Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief; + It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, + A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, + An understanding simple and unschool'd; + For what we know must be, and is as common + As any the most vulgar thing to sense, + Why should we in our peevish opposition + Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, + A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, + To reason most absurd, whose common theme + Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, + From the first corse till he that died to-day, + 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth + This unprevailing woe, and think of us + As of a father; for let the world take note + You are the most immediate to our throne, + And with no less nobility of love + Than that which dearest father bears his son + Do I impart toward you. For your intent + In going back to school in Wittenberg, + It is most retrograde to our desire; + And we beseech you, bend you to remain + Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, + Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. + Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. + I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. + Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. + King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. + Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come. + This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet + Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, + No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day + But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, + And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, + Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away. + Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. + Ham. O that this too too solid flesh would melt, + Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! + Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd + His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! + How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable + Seem to me all the uses of this world! + Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden + That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature + Possess it merely. That it should come to this! + But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two. + So excellent a king, that was to this + Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother + That he might not beteem the winds of heaven + Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! + Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him + As if increase of appetite had grown + By what it fed on; and yet, within a month- + Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!- + A little month, or ere those shoes were old + With which she followed my poor father's body + Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she + (O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason + Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle; + My father's brother, but no more like my father + Than I to Hercules. Within a month, + Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears + Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, + She married. O, most wicked speed, to post + With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! + It is not, nor it cannot come to good. + But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue! + + Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. + + Hor. Hail to your lordship! + Ham. I am glad to see you well. + Horatio!- or I do forget myself. + Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. + Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you. + And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? + Marcellus? + Mar. My good lord! + Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.- + But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? + Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. + Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, + Nor shall you do my ear that violence + To make it truster of your own report + Against yourself. I know you are no truant. + But what is your affair in Elsinore? + We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. + Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. + Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student. + I think it was to see my mother's wedding. + Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. + Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats + Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. + Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven + Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! + My father- methinks I see my father. + Hor. O, where, my lord? + Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. + Hor. I saw him once. He was a goodly king. + Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all. + I shall not look upon his like again. + Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. + Ham. Saw? who? + Hor. My lord, the King your father. + Ham. The King my father? + Hor. Season your admiration for a while + With an attent ear, till I may deliver + Upon the witness of these gentlemen, + This marvel to you. + Ham. For God's love let me hear! + Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen + (Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch + In the dead vast and middle of the night + Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father, + Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, + Appears before them and with solemn march + Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd + By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, + Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd + Almost to jelly with the act of fear, + Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me + In dreadful secrecy impart they did, + And I with them the third night kept the watch; + Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, + Form of the thing, each word made true and good, + The apparition comes. I knew your father. + These hands are not more like. + Ham. But where was this? + Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. + Ham. Did you not speak to it? + Hor. My lord, I did; + But answer made it none. Yet once methought + It lifted up it head and did address + Itself to motion, like as it would speak; + But even then the morning cock crew loud, + And at the sound it shrunk in haste away + And vanish'd from our sight. + Ham. 'Tis very strange. + Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; + And we did think it writ down in our duty + To let you know of it. + Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. + Hold you the watch to-night? + Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord. + Ham. Arm'd, say you? + Both. Arm'd, my lord. + Ham. From top to toe? + Both. My lord, from head to foot. + Ham. Then saw you not his face? + Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up. + Ham. What, look'd he frowningly. + Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. + Ham. Pale or red? + Hor. Nay, very pale. + Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? + Hor. Most constantly. + Ham. I would I had been there. + Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. + Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? + Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. + Both. Longer, longer. + Hor. Not when I saw't. + Ham. His beard was grizzled- no? + Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, + A sable silver'd. + Ham. I will watch to-night. + Perchance 'twill walk again. + Hor. I warr'nt it will. + Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, + I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape + And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, + If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, + Let it be tenable in your silence still; + And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, + Give it an understanding but no tongue. + I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. + Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, + I'll visit you. + All. Our duty to your honour. + Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. + Exeunt [all but Hamlet]. + My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well. + I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! + Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Laertes and Ophelia. + + Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell. + And, sister, as the winds give benefit + And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, + But let me hear from you. + Oph. Do you doubt that? + Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, + Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; + A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; + No more. + Oph. No more but so? + Laer. Think it no more. + For nature crescent does not grow alone + In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, + The inward service of the mind and soul + Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, + And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch + The virtue of his will; but you must fear, + His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; + For he himself is subject to his birth. + He may not, as unvalued persons do, + Carve for himself, for on his choice depends + The safety and health of this whole state, + And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd + Unto the voice and yielding of that body + Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, + It fits your wisdom so far to believe it + As he in his particular act and place + May give his saying deed; which is no further + Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. + Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain + If with too credent ear you list his songs, + Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open + To his unmast'red importunity. + Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, + And keep you in the rear of your affection, + Out of the shot and danger of desire. + The chariest maid is prodigal enough + If she unmask her beauty to the moon. + Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. + The canker galls the infants of the spring + Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, + And in the morn and liquid dew of youth + Contagious blastments are most imminent. + Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. + Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. + Oph. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep + As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, + Do not as some ungracious pastors do, + Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, + Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, + Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads + And recks not his own rede. + Laer. O, fear me not! + + Enter Polonius. + + I stay too long. But here my father comes. + A double blessing is a double grace; + Occasion smiles upon a second leave. + Pol. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! + The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, + And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee! + And these few precepts in thy memory + Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar: + Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, + Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man, + And they in France of the best rank and station + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all- to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + Farewell. My blessing season this in thee! + Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. + Pol. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend. + Laer. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well + What I have said to you. + Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, + And you yourself shall keep the key of it. + Laer. Farewell. Exit. + Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? + Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. + Pol. Marry, well bethought! + 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late + Given private time to you, and you yourself + Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. + If it be so- as so 'tis put on me, + And that in way of caution- I must tell you + You do not understand yourself so clearly + As it behooves my daughter and your honour. + What is between you? Give me up the truth. + Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders + Of his affection to me. + Pol. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl, + Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. + Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? + Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think, + Pol. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby + That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, + Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, + Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, + Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool. + Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love + In honourable fashion. + Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to! + Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, + With almost all the holy vows of heaven. + Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, + When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul + Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, + Giving more light than heat, extinct in both + Even in their promise, as it is a-making, + You must not take for fire. From this time + Be something scanter of your maiden presence. + Set your entreatments at a higher rate + Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, + Believe so much in him, that he is young, + And with a larger tether may he walk + Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, + Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, + Not of that dye which their investments show, + But mere implorators of unholy suits, + Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, + The better to beguile. This is for all: + I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth + Have you so slander any moment leisure + As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. + Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways. + Oph. I shall obey, my lord. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Elsinore. The platform before the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. + + Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. + Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. + Ham. What hour now? + Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. + Mar. No, it is struck. + Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season + Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. + A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off. + What does this mean, my lord? + Ham. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, + Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, + And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, + The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out + The triumph of his pledge. + Hor. Is it a custom? + Ham. Ay, marry, is't; + But to my mind, though I am native here + And to the manner born, it is a custom + More honour'd in the breach than the observance. + This heavy-headed revel east and west + Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; + They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase + Soil our addition; and indeed it takes + From our achievements, though perform'd at height, + The pith and marrow of our attribute. + So oft it chances in particular men + That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, + As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty, + Since nature cannot choose his origin,- + By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, + Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, + Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens + The form of plausive manners, that these men + Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, + Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, + Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace, + As infinite as man may undergo- + Shall in the general censure take corruption + From that particular fault. The dram of e'il + Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. + + Enter Ghost. + + Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! + Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! + Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, + Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, + Be thy intents wicked or charitable, + Thou com'st in such a questionable shape + That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, + King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me? + Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell + Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, + Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre + Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, + Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws + To cast thee up again. What may this mean + That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, + Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, + Making night hideous, and we fools of nature + So horridly to shake our disposition + With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? + Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do? + Ghost beckons Hamlet. + Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, + As if it some impartment did desire + To you alone. + Mar. Look with what courteous action + It waves you to a more removed ground. + But do not go with it! + Hor. No, by no means! + Ham. It will not speak. Then will I follow it. + Hor. Do not, my lord! + Ham. Why, what should be the fear? + I do not set my life at a pin's fee; + And for my soul, what can it do to that, + Being a thing immortal as itself? + It waves me forth again. I'll follow it. + Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, + Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff + That beetles o'er his base into the sea, + And there assume some other, horrible form + Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason + And draw you into madness? Think of it. + The very place puts toys of desperation, + Without more motive, into every brain + That looks so many fadoms to the sea + And hears it roar beneath. + Ham. It waves me still. + Go on. I'll follow thee. + Mar. You shall not go, my lord. + Ham. Hold off your hands! + Hor. Be rul'd. You shall not go. + Ham. My fate cries out + And makes each petty artire in this body + As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. + [Ghost beckons.] + Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. + By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!- + I say, away!- Go on. I'll follow thee. + Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. + Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. + Mar. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him. + Hor. Have after. To what issue wail this come? + Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. + Hor. Heaven will direct it. + Mar. Nay, let's follow him. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications. + +Enter Ghost and Hamlet. + + Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further. + Ghost. Mark me. + Ham. I will. + Ghost. My hour is almost come, + When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames + Must render up myself. + Ham. Alas, poor ghost! + Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing + To what I shall unfold. + Ham. Speak. I am bound to hear. + Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. + Ham. What? + Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, + Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, + And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, + Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature + Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid + To tell the secrets of my prison house, + I could a tale unfold whose lightest word + Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, + Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, + Thy knotted and combined locks to part, + And each particular hair to stand an end + Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. + But this eternal blazon must not be + To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! + If thou didst ever thy dear father love- + Ham. O God! + Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. + Ham. Murther? + Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; + But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. + Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift + As meditation or the thoughts of love, + May sweep to my revenge. + Ghost. I find thee apt; + And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed + That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, + Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. + 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, + A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark + Is by a forged process of my death + Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, + The serpent that did sting thy father's life + Now wears his crown. + Ham. O my prophetic soul! + My uncle? + Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, + With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- + O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power + So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust + The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. + O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, + From me, whose love was of that dignity + That it went hand in hand even with the vow + I made to her in marriage, and to decline + Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor + To those of mine! + But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, + Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, + So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, + Will sate itself in a celestial bed + And prey on garbage. + But soft! methinks I scent the morning air. + Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, + And in the porches of my ears did pour + The leperous distilment; whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man + That swift as quicksilverr it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body, + And with a sudden vigour it doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark'd about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust + All my smooth body. + Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand + Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; + Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, + Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, + No reckoning made, but sent to my account + With all my imperfections on my head. + Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! + Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. + Let not the royal bed of Denmark be + A couch for luxury and damned incest. + But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, + Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive + Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven, + And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge + To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. + The glowworm shows the matin to be near + And gins to pale his uneffectual fire. + Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit. + Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? + And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart! + And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, + But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? + Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat + In this distracted globe. Remember thee? + Yea, from the table of my memory + I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, + All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past + That youth and observation copied there, + And thy commandment all alone shall live + Within the book and volume of my brain, + Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! + O most pernicious woman! + O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! + My tables! Meet it is I set it down + That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; + At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.] + So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word: + It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.' + I have sworn't. + Hor. (within) My lord, my lord! + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Mar. Lord Hamlet! + Hor. Heaven secure him! + Ham. So be it! + Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord! + Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. + Mar. How is't, my noble lord? + Hor. What news, my lord? + Mar. O, wonderful! + Hor. Good my lord, tell it. + Ham. No, you will reveal it. + Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven! + Mar. Nor I, my lord. + Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? + But you'll be secret? + Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord. + Ham. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark + But he's an arrant knave. + Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave + To tell us this. + Ham. Why, right! You are in the right! + And so, without more circumstance at all, + I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; + You, as your business and desires shall point you, + For every man hath business and desire, + Such as it is; and for my own poor part, + Look you, I'll go pray. + Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. + Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; + Yes, faith, heartily. + Hor. There's no offence, my lord. + Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, + And much offence too. Touching this vision here, + It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. + For your desire to know what is between us, + O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends, + As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, + Give me one poor request. + Hor. What is't, my lord? We will. + Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. + Both. My lord, we will not. + Ham. Nay, but swear't. + Hor. In faith, + My lord, not I. + Mar. Nor I, my lord- in faith. + Ham. Upon my sword. + Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. + Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. + + Ghost cries under the stage. + + Ghost. Swear. + Ham. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? + Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. + Consent to swear. + Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. + Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen. + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. + Come hither, gentlemen, + And lay your hands again upon my sword. + Never to speak of this that you have heard: + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword. + Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast? + A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends." + Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! + Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. + There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. + But come! + Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, + How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself + (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet + To put an antic disposition on), + That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, + With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, + Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, + As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' + Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' + Or such ambiguous giving out, to note + That you know aught of me- this is not to do, + So grace and mercy at your most need help you, + Swear. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + [They swear.] + Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, + With all my love I do commend me to you; + And what so poor a man as Hamlet is + May do t' express his love and friending to you, + God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; + And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. + The time is out of joint. O cursed spite + That ever I was born to set it right! + Nay, come, let's go together. + Exeunt. + + + + +Act II. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. + + Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. + Rey. I will, my lord. + Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, + Before You visit him, to make inquire + Of his behaviour. + Rey. My lord, I did intend it. + Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, + Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; + And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, + What company, at what expense; and finding + By this encompassment and drift of question + That they do know my son, come you more nearer + Than your particular demands will touch it. + Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; + As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, + And in part him.' Do you mark this, Reynaldo? + Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. + Pol. 'And in part him, but,' you may say, 'not well. + But if't be he I mean, he's very wild + Addicted so and so'; and there put on him + What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank + As may dishonour him- take heed of that; + But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips + As are companions noted and most known + To youth and liberty. + Rey. As gaming, my lord. + Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, + Drabbing. You may go so far. + Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. + Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. + You must not put another scandal on him, + That he is open to incontinency. + That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly + That they may seem the taints of liberty, + The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, + A savageness in unreclaimed blood, + Of general assault. + Rey. But, my good lord- + Pol. Wherefore should you do this? + Rey. Ay, my lord, + I would know that. + Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift, + And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. + You laying these slight sullies on my son + As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working, + Mark you, + Your party in converse, him you would sound, + Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes + The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd + He closes with you in this consequence: + 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'- + According to the phrase or the addition + Of man and country- + Rey. Very good, my lord. + Pol. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? + By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave? + Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and + gentleman.' + Pol. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry! + He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman. + I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, + Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, + There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; + There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, + 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' + Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. + See you now- + Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; + And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, + With windlasses and with assays of bias, + By indirections find directions out. + So, by my former lecture and advice, + Shall you my son. You have me, have you not + Rey. My lord, I have. + Pol. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well! + Rey. Good my lord! [Going.] + Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. + Rey. I shall, my lord. + Pol. And let him ply his music. + Rey. Well, my lord. + Pol. Farewell! + Exit Reynaldo. + + Enter Ophelia. + + How now, Ophelia? What's the matter? + Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! + Pol. With what, i' th' name of God I + Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, + Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, + No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd, + Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle; + Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, + And with a look so piteous in purport + As if he had been loosed out of hell + To speak of horrors- he comes before me. + Pol. Mad for thy love? + Oph. My lord, I do not know, + But truly I do fear it. + Pol. What said he? + Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard; + Then goes he to the length of all his arm, + And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, + He falls to such perusal of my face + As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so. + At last, a little shaking of mine arm, + And thrice his head thus waving up and down, + He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound + As it did seem to shatter all his bulk + And end his being. That done, he lets me go, + And with his head over his shoulder turn'd + He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, + For out o' doors he went without their help + And to the last bended their light on me. + Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. + This is the very ecstasy of love, + Whose violent property fordoes itself + And leads the will to desperate undertakings + As oft as any passion under heaven + That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. + What, have you given him any hard words of late? + Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, + I did repel his letters and denied + His access to me. + Pol. That hath made him mad. + I am sorry that with better heed and judgment + I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle + And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy! + By heaven, it is as proper to our age + To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions + As it is common for the younger sort + To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. + This must be known; which, being kept close, might move + More grief to hide than hate to utter love. + Come. + Exeunt. + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, cum aliis. + + King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + Moreover that we much did long to see you, + The need we have to use you did provoke + Our hasty sending. Something have you heard + Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it, + Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man + Resembles that it was. What it should be, + More than his father's death, that thus hath put him + So much from th' understanding of himself, + I cannot dream of. I entreat you both + That, being of so young clays brought up with him, + And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, + That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court + Some little time; so by your companies + To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather + So much as from occasion you may glean, + Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus + That, open'd, lies within our remedy. + Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, + And sure I am two men there are not living + To whom he more adheres. If it will please you + To show us so much gentry and good will + As to expend your time with us awhile + For the supply and profit of our hope, + Your visitation shall receive such thanks + As fits a king's remembrance. + Ros. Both your Majesties + Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, + Put your dread pleasures more into command + Than to entreaty. + Guil. But we both obey, + And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, + To lay our service freely at your feet, + To be commanded. + King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. + Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. + And I beseech you instantly to visit + My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, + And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. + Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices + Pleasant and helpful to him! + Queen. Ay, amen! + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some + Attendants]. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, + Are joyfully return'd. + King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. + Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, + I hold my duty as I hold my soul, + Both to my God and to my gracious king; + And I do think- or else this brain of mine + Hunts not the trail of policy so sure + As it hath us'd to do- that I have found + The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. + King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. + Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. + My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. + King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. + [Exit Polonius.] + He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found + The head and source of all your son's distemper. + Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main, + His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. + King. Well, we shall sift him. + + Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius. + + Welcome, my good friends. + Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? + Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. + Upon our first, he sent out to suppress + His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd + To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, + But better look'd into, he truly found + It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd, + That so his sickness, age, and impotence + Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests + On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, + Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, + Makes vow before his uncle never more + To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty. + Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, + Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee + And his commission to employ those soldiers, + So levied as before, against the Polack; + With an entreaty, herein further shown, + [Gives a paper.] + That it might please you to give quiet pass + Through your dominions for this enterprise, + On such regards of safety and allowance + As therein are set down. + King. It likes us well; + And at our more consider'd time we'll read, + Answer, and think upon this business. + Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour. + Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together. + Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors. + Pol. This business is well ended. + My liege, and madam, to expostulate + What majesty should be, what duty is, + Why day is day, night is night, and time is time. + Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. + Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, + And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, + I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. + Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, + What is't but to be nothing else but mad? + But let that go. + Queen. More matter, with less art. + Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. + That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; + And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure! + But farewell it, for I will use no art. + Mad let us grant him then. And now remains + That we find out the cause of this effect- + Or rather say, the cause of this defect, + For this effect defective comes by cause. + Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. + Perpend. + I have a daughter (have while she is mine), + Who in her duty and obedience, mark, + Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. + [Reads] the letter. + 'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified + Ophelia,'- + + That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile + phrase. + But you shall hear. Thus: + [Reads.] + 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' + Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? + Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.] + + 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love. + 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to + reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe + it. Adieu. + 'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, + HAMLET.' + + This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me; + And more above, hath his solicitings, + As they fell out by time, by means, and place, + All given to mine ear. + King. But how hath she + Receiv'd his love? + Pol. What do you think of me? + King. As of a man faithful and honourable. + Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, + When I had seen this hot love on the wing + (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, + Before my daughter told me), what might you, + Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, + If I had play'd the desk or table book, + Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, + Or look'd upon this love with idle sight? + What might you think? No, I went round to work + And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: + 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. + This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her, + That she should lock herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, + And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, + Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, + Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, + Into the madness wherein now he raves, + And all we mourn for. + King. Do you think 'tis this? + Queen. it may be, very like. + Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that- + That I have Positively said ''Tis so,' + When it prov'd otherwise.? + King. Not that I know. + Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this + be otherwise. + If circumstances lead me, I will find + Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed + Within the centre. + King. How may we try it further? + Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together + Here in the lobby. + Queen. So he does indeed. + Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. + Be you and I behind an arras then. + Mark the encounter. If he love her not, + And he not from his reason fall'n thereon + Let me be no assistant for a state, + But keep a farm and carters. + King. We will try it. + + Enter Hamlet, reading on a book. + + Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. + Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away + I'll board him presently. O, give me leave. + Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants]. + How does my good Lord Hamlet? + Ham. Well, God-a-mercy. + Pol. Do you know me, my lord? + Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. + Pol. Not I, my lord. + Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. + Pol. Honest, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man + pick'd out of ten thousand. + Pol. That's very true, my lord. + Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god + kissing carrion- Have you a daughter? + Pol. I have, my lord. + Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but not + as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. + Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet + he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far + gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity + for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you + read, my lord? + Ham. Words, words, words. + Pol. What is the matter, my lord? + Ham. Between who? + Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. + Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men + have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes + purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a + plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All which, + sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it + not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, + should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward. + Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.- + Will You walk out of the air, my lord? + Ham. Into my grave? + Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes + his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which + reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I + will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between + him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take + my leave of you. + Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more + willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my + life, + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Pol. Fare you well, my lord. + Ham. These tedious old fools! + Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. + Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir! + Exit [Polonius]. + Guil. My honour'd lord! + Ros. My most dear lord! + Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, + Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? + Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. + Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy. + On Fortune's cap we are not the very button. + Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? + Ros. Neither, my lord. + Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her + favours? + Guil. Faith, her privates we. + Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a + strumpet. What news ? + Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. + Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me + question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, + deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison + hither? + Guil. Prison, my lord? + Ham. Denmark's a prison. + Ros. Then is the world one. + Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and + dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. + Ros. We think not so, my lord. + Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good + or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison. + Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your + mind. + Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a + king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. + Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. + Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. + Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that + it is but a shadow's shadow. + Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd + heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by my + fay, I cannot reason. + Both. We'll wait upon you. + Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my + servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most + dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship, what + make you at Elsinore? + Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. + Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; + and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were + you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free + visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak. + Guil. What should we say, my lord? + Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and + there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties + have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen + have sent for you. + Ros. To what end, my lord? + Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights + of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the + obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a + better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with + me, whether you were sent for or no. + Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you? + Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me, hold + not off. + Guil. My lord, we were sent for. + Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your + discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no + feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my + mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so + heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, + seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the + air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical + roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing + to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a + piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in + faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in + action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the + beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what + is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman + neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. + Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. + Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'? + Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten + entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them + on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service. + Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall + have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and + target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall + end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose + lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind + freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are + they? + Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the + tragedians of the city. + Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in + reputation and profit, was better both ways. + Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late + innovation. + Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the + city? Are they so follow'd? + Ros. No indeed are they not. + Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? + Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, + sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top + of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort. These are now + the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call + them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and + dare scarce come thither. + Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they + escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can + sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow + themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means + are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim + against their own succession. + Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation + holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for a + while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player + went to cuffs in the question. + Ham. Is't possible? + Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. + Ham. Do the boys carry it away? + Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too. + Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and + those that would make mows at him while my father lived give + twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in + little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if + philosophy could find it out. + + Flourish for the Players. + + Guil. There are the players. + Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th' + appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply + with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I + tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like + entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father + and aunt-mother are deceiv'd. + Guil. In what, my dear lord? + Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I + know a hawk from a handsaw. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! + Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer! + That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling + clouts. + Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old + man is twice a child. + Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark it.- + You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed. + Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. + Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in + Rome- + Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. + Ham. Buzz, buzz! + Pol. Upon my honour- + Ham. Then came each actor on his ass- + Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, + history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, + tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene + individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor + Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are + the only men. + Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! + Pol. What treasure had he, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'One fair daughter, and no more, + The which he loved passing well.' + + Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter. + Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah? + Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I + love passing well. + Ham. Nay, that follows not. + Pol. What follows then, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'As by lot, God wot,' + + and then, you know, + + 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' + + The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look + where my abridgment comes. + + Enter four or five Players. + + You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see thee + well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy face is + valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in + Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your + ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the + altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of + uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you are + all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at + anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a + taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech. + 1. Play. What speech, my good lord? + Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; + or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleas'd + not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as I + receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in + the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, + set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said + there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, + nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of + affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as + sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in't + I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it + especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in + your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-' + + 'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, + Black as his purpose, did the night resemble + When he lay couched in the ominous horse, + Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd + With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot + Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd + With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, + Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, + That lend a tyrannous and a damned light + To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire, + And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, + With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus + Old grandsire Priam seeks.' + + So, proceed you. + Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good + discretion. + + 1. Play. 'Anon he finds him, + Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword, + Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, + Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd, + Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; + But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword + Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, + Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top + Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash + Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword, + Which was declining on the milky head + Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick. + So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, + And, like a neutral to his will and matter, + Did nothing. + But, as we often see, against some storm, + A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, + The bold winds speechless, and the orb below + As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder + Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause, + Aroused vengeance sets him new awork; + And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall + On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, + With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword + Now falls on Priam. + Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods, + In general synod take away her power; + Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, + And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, + As low as to the fiends! + + Pol. This is too long. + Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say on. + He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to + Hecuba. + + 1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-' + + Ham. 'The mobled queen'? + Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good. + + 1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames + With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head + Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, + About her lank and all o'erteemed loins, + A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up- + Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd + 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd. + But if the gods themselves did see her then, + When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport + In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, + The instant burst of clamour that she made + (Unless things mortal move them not at all) + Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven + And passion in the gods.' + + Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's + eyes. Prithee no more! + Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.- + Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you + hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and brief + chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a + bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. + Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. + Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his + desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own + honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in + your bounty. Take them in. + Pol. Come, sirs. + Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow. + Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First]. + Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of + Gonzago'? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a + speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and + insert in't, could you not? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not. + [Exit First Player.] + My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to + Elsinore. + Ros. Good my lord! + Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye! + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern + Now I am alone. + O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! + Is it not monstrous that this player here, + But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, + Could force his soul so to his own conceit + That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, + Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, + A broken voice, and his whole function suiting + With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! + For Hecuba! + What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, + That he should weep for her? What would he do, + Had he the motive and the cue for passion + That I have? He would drown the stage with tears + And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; + Make mad the guilty and appal the free, + Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed + The very faculties of eyes and ears. + Yet I, + A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak + Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, + And can say nothing! No, not for a king, + Upon whose property and most dear life + A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? + Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? + Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? + Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat + As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha? + 'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be + But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall + To make oppression bitter, or ere this + I should have fatted all the region kites + With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain! + Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! + O, vengeance! + Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, + That I, the son of a dear father murther'd, + Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, + Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words + And fall a-cursing like a very drab, + A scullion! + Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard + That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, + Have by the very cunning of the scene + Been struck so to the soul that presently + They have proclaim'd their malefactions; + For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak + With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players + Play something like the murther of my father + Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks; + I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench, + I know my course. The spirit that I have seen + May be a devil; and the devil hath power + T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps + Out of my weakness and my melancholy, + As he is very potent with such spirits, + Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds + More relative than this. The play's the thing + Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. Exit. + + + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords. + + King. And can you by no drift of circumstance + Get from him why he puts on this confusion, + Grating so harshly all his days of quiet + With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? + Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted, + But from what cause he will by no means speak. + Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, + But with a crafty madness keeps aloof + When we would bring him on to some confession + Of his true state. + Queen. Did he receive you well? + Ros. Most like a gentleman. + Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. + Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands + Most free in his reply. + Queen. Did you assay him + To any pastime? + Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players + We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him, + And there did seem in him a kind of joy + To hear of it. They are here about the court, + And, as I think, they have already order + This night to play before him. + Pol. 'Tis most true; + And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties + To hear and see the matter. + King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me + To hear him so inclin'd. + Good gentlemen, give him a further edge + And drive his purpose on to these delights. + Ros. We shall, my lord. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; + For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, + That he, as 'twere by accident, may here + Affront Ophelia. + Her father and myself (lawful espials) + Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, + We may of their encounter frankly judge + And gather by him, as he is behav'd, + If't be th' affliction of his love, or no, + That thus he suffers for. + Queen. I shall obey you; + And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish + That your good beauties be the happy cause + Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues + Will bring him to his wonted way again, + To both your honours. + Oph. Madam, I wish it may. + [Exit Queen.] + Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you, + We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book, + That show of such an exercise may colour + Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this, + 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage + And pious action we do sugar o'er + The Devil himself. + King. [aside] O, 'tis too true! + How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! + The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, + Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it + Than is my deed to my most painted word. + O heavy burthen! + Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord. + Exeunt King and Polonius]. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. To be, or not to be- that is the question: + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer + The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune + Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, + And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep- + No more; and by a sleep to say we end + The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep. + To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! + For in that sleep of death what dreams may come + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, + Must give us pause. There's the respect + That makes calamity of so long life. + For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, + To grunt and sweat under a weary life, + But that the dread of something after death- + The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn + No traveller returns- puzzles the will, + And makes us rather bear those ills we have + Than fly to others that we know not of? + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, + And enterprises of great pith and moment + With this regard their currents turn awry + And lose the name of action.- Soft you now! + The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons + Be all my sins rememb'red. + Oph. Good my lord, + How does your honour for this many a day? + Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well. + Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours + That I have longed long to re-deliver. + I pray you, now receive them. + Ham. No, not I! + I never gave you aught. + Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, + And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd + As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, + Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. + There, my lord. + Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest? + Oph. My lord? + Ham. Are you fair? + Oph. What means your lordship? + Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no + discourse to your beauty. + Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? + Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform + honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can + translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox, + but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. + Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. + Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so + inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you + not. + Oph. I was the more deceived. + Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of + sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse + me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. + I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my + beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give + them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I + do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; + believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your + father? + Oph. At home, my lord. + Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool + nowhere but in's own house. Farewell. + Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! + Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: + be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape + calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt + needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what + monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. + Farewell. + Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him! + Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath + given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you + amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your + wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made + me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are + married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as + they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. + Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! + The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, + Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, + The glass of fashion and the mould of form, + Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! + And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, + That suck'd the honey of his music vows, + Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, + Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; + That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth + Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me + T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! + + Enter King and Polonius. + + King. Love? his affections do not that way tend; + Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, + Was not like madness. There's something in his soul + O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; + And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose + Will be some danger; which for to prevent, + I have in quick determination + Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England + For the demand of our neglected tribute. + Haply the seas, and countries different, + With variable objects, shall expel + This something-settled matter in his heart, + Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus + From fashion of himself. What think you on't? + Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe + The origin and commencement of his grief + Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia? + You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said. + We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please; + But if you hold it fit, after the play + Let his queen mother all alone entreat him + To show his grief. Let her be round with him; + And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear + Of all their conference. If she find him not, + To England send him; or confine him where + Your wisdom best shall think. + King. It shall be so. + Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and three of the Players. + + Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, + trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our + players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do + not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all + gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) + whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a + temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the + soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to + tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who + (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb + shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing + Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. + Player. I warrant your honour. + Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be your + tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with + this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of + nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, + whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as + 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own feature, + scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his + form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though + it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious + grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance + o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I + have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to + speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of + Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so + strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's + journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated + humanity so abominably. + Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir. + Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns + speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them + that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren + spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary + question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous + and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go + make you ready. + Exeunt Players. + + Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work? + Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently. + Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two + help to hasten them? + Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two. + Ham. What, ho, Horatio! + + Enter Horatio. + + Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. + Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man + As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. + Hor. O, my dear lord! + Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; + For what advancement may I hope from thee, + That no revenue hast but thy good spirits + To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? + No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, + And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee + Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath scald thee for herself. For thou hast been + As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing; + A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. Something too much of this I + There is a play to-night before the King. + One scene of it comes near the circumstance, + Which I have told thee, of my father's death. + I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, + Even with the very comment of thy soul + Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt + Do not itself unkennel in one speech, + It is a damned ghost that we have seen, + And my imaginations are as foul + As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; + For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, + And after we will both our judgments join + In censure of his seeming. + Hor. Well, my lord. + If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, + And scape detecting, I will pay the theft. + + Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish + march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, + Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard + carrying torches. + + Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle. + Get you a place. + King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? + Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, + promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so. + King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not + mine. + Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once + i' th' university, you say? + Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. + Ham. What did you enact? + Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol; Brutus + kill'd me. + Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be + the players ready. + Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience. + Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. + Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive. + Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that? + Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? + [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.] + Oph. No, my lord. + Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? + Oph. I think nothing, my lord. + Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. + Oph. What is, my lord? + Ham. Nothing. + Oph. You are merry, my lord. + Ham. Who, I? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? + For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died + within 's two hours. + Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord. + Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a + suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten + yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life + half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or else + shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose + epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!' + + Hautboys play. The dumb show enters. + + Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing + him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation + unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her + neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing + him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his + crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and + leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes + passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four Mutes, + comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is + carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she + seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts + his love. + Exeunt. + + Oph. What means this, my lord? + Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief. + Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play. + + Enter Prologue. + + Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel; + they'll tell all. + Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant? + Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to + show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. + Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play. + + Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, + Here stooping to your clemency, + We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.] + + Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? + Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord. + Ham. As woman's love. + + Enter [two Players as] King and Queen. + + King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round + Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, + And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen + About the world have times twelve thirties been, + Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, + Unite comutual in most sacred bands. + Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon + Make us again count o'er ere love be done! + But woe is me! you are so sick of late, + So far from cheer and from your former state. + That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, + Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; + For women's fear and love holds quantity, + In neither aught, or in extremity. + Now what my love is, proof hath made you know; + And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. + Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. + King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; + My operant powers their functions leave to do. + And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, + Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind + For husband shalt thou- + Queen. O, confound the rest! + Such love must needs be treason in my breast. + When second husband let me be accurst! + None wed the second but who killed the first. + + Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood! + + Queen. The instances that second marriage move + Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. + A second time I kill my husband dead + When second husband kisses me in bed. + King. I do believe you think what now you speak; + But what we do determine oft we break. + Purpose is but the slave to memory, + Of violent birth, but poor validity; + Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, + But fill unshaken when they mellow be. + Most necessary 'tis that we forget + To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. + What to ourselves in passion we propose, + The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. + The violence of either grief or joy + Their own enactures with themselves destroy. + Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; + Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. + This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange + That even our loves should with our fortunes change; + For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, + Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. + The great man down, you mark his favourite flies, + The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies; + And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, + For who not needs shall never lack a friend, + And who in want a hollow friend doth try, + Directly seasons him his enemy. + But, orderly to end where I begun, + Our wills and fates do so contrary run + That our devices still are overthrown; + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. + So think thou wilt no second husband wed; + But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. + Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light, + Sport and repose lock from me day and night, + To desperation turn my trust and hope, + An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope, + Each opposite that blanks the face of joy + Meet what I would have well, and it destroy, + Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, + If, once a widow, ever I be wife! + + Ham. If she should break it now! + + King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile. + My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile + The tedious day with sleep. + Queen. Sleep rock thy brain, + [He] sleeps. + And never come mischance between us twain! +Exit. + + Ham. Madam, how like you this play? + Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. + Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. + King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't? + Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th' + world. + King. What do you call the play? + Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the + image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name; + his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of + work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free + souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our withers + are unwrung. + + Enter Lucianus. + + This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King. + Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. + Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see + the puppets dallying. + Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. + Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. + Oph. Still better, and worse. + Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox, leave + thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth + bellow for revenge. + + Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; + Confederate season, else no creature seeing; + Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, + With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, + Thy natural magic and dire property + On wholesome life usurp immediately. + Pours the poison in his ears. + + Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago. + The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You + shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. + Oph. The King rises. + Ham. What, frighted with false fire? + Queen. How fares my lord? + Pol. Give o'er the play. + King. Give me some light! Away! + All. Lights, lights, lights! + Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. + Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, + The hart ungalled play; + For some must watch, while some must sleep: + Thus runs the world away. + Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of my + fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my raz'd + shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? + Hor. Half a share. + Ham. A whole one I! + For thou dost know, O Damon dear, + This realm dismantled was + Of Jove himself; and now reigns here + A very, very- pajock. + Hor. You might have rhym'd. + Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand + pound! Didst perceive? + Hor. Very well, my lord. + Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? + Hor. I did very well note him. + Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! + For if the King like not the comedy, + Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy. + Come, some music! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. + Ham. Sir, a whole history. + Guil. The King, sir- + Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? + Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd. + Ham. With drink, sir? + Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler. + Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to + the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps + plunge him into far more choler. + Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start + not so wildly from my affair. + Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce. + Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit + hath sent me to you. + Ham. You are welcome. + Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. + If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do + your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return + shall be the end of my business. + Ham. Sir, I cannot. + Guil. What, my lord? + Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir, such + answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say, + my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you + say- + Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into + amazement and admiration. + Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no + sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. + Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed. + Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any + further trade with us? + Ros. My lord, you once did love me. + Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers! + Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely + bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to + your friend. + Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. + Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself + for your succession in Denmark? + Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is something + musty. + + Enter the Players with recorders. + + O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why do + you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me + into a toil? + Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. + Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? + Guil. My lord, I cannot. + Ham. I pray you. + Guil. Believe me, I cannot. + Ham. I do beseech you. + Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord. + Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your + fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it will + discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. + Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I + have not the skill. + Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You + would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would + pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my + lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, + excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it + speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a + pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, + you cannot play upon me. + + Enter Polonius. + + God bless you, sir! + Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. + Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? + Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. + Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. + Pol. It is back'd like a weasel. + Ham. Or like a whale. + Pol. Very like a whale. + Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the + top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by. + Pol. I will say so. Exit. + Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + 'Tis now the very witching time of night, + When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out + Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood + And do such bitter business as the day + Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother! + O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever + The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. + Let me be cruel, not unnatural; + I will speak daggers to her, but use none. + My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites- + How in my words somever she be shent, + To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us + To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; + I your commission will forthwith dispatch, + And he to England shall along with you. + The terms of our estate may not endure + Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow + Out of his lunacies. + Guil. We will ourselves provide. + Most holy and religious fear it is + To keep those many many bodies safe + That live and feed upon your Majesty. + Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound + With all the strength and armour of the mind + To keep itself from noyance; but much more + That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests + The lives of many. The cesse of majesty + Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw + What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel, + Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, + To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things + Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls, + Each small annexment, petty consequence, + Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone + Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. + King. Arm you, I pray you, to th', speedy voyage; + For we will fetters put upon this fear, + Which now goes too free-footed. + Both. We will haste us. + Exeunt Gentlemen. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. + Behind the arras I'll convey myself + To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home; + And, as you said, and wisely was it said, + 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, + Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear + The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege. + I'll call upon you ere you go to bed + And tell you what I know. + King. Thanks, dear my lord. + Exit [Polonius]. + O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; + It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, + A brother's murther! Pray can I not, + Though inclination be as sharp as will. + My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, + And, like a man to double business bound, + I stand in pause where I shall first begin, + And both neglect. What if this cursed hand + Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, + Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens + To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy + But to confront the visage of offence? + And what's in prayer but this twofold force, + To be forestalled ere we come to fall, + Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; + My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer + Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'? + That cannot be; since I am still possess'd + Of those effects for which I did the murther- + My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. + May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence? + In the corrupted currents of this world + Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, + And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself + Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above. + There is no shuffling; there the action lies + In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd, + Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, + To give in evidence. What then? What rests? + Try what repentance can. What can it not? + Yet what can it when one cannot repent? + O wretched state! O bosom black as death! + O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, + Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay. + Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel, + Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe! + All may be well. He kneels. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; + And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven, + And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd. + A villain kills my father; and for that, + I, his sole son, do this same villain send + To heaven. + Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge! + He took my father grossly, full of bread, + With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; + And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven? + But in our circumstance and course of thought, + 'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd, + To take him in the purging of his soul, + When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? + No. + Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent. + When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage; + Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed; + At gaming, swearing, or about some act + That has no relish of salvation in't- + Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, + And that his soul may be as damn'd and black + As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. + This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit. + King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. + Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +The Queen's closet. + +Enter Queen and Polonius. + + Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him. + Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, + And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between + Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here. + Pray you be round with him. + Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother! + Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him coming. + [Polonius hides behind the arras.] + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? + Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. + Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. + Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. + Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. + Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? + Ham. What's the matter now? + Queen. Have you forgot me? + Ham. No, by the rood, not so! + You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, + And (would it were not so!) you are my mother. + Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. + Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge I + You go not till I set you up a glass + Where you may see the inmost part of you. + Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me? + Help, help, ho! + Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help! + Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! + [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius. + Pol. [behind] O, I am slain! + Queen. O me, what hast thou done? + Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King? + Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! + Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother, + As kill a king, and marry with his brother. + Queen. As kill a king? + Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word. + [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.] + Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. + Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. + Leave wringing of your hinds. Peace! sit you down + And let me wring your heart; for so I shall + If it be made of penetrable stuff; + If damned custom have not braz'd it so + That it is proof and bulwark against sense. + Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue + In noise so rude against me? + Ham. Such an act + That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; + Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose + From the fair forehead of an innocent love, + And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows + As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed + As from the body of contraction plucks + The very soul, and sweet religion makes + A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow; + Yea, this solidity and compound mass, + With tristful visage, as against the doom, + Is thought-sick at the act. + Queen. Ay me, what act, + That roars so loud and thunders in the index? + Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this, + The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. + See what a grace was seated on this brow; + Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; + An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; + A station like the herald Mercury + New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: + A combination and a form indeed + Where every god did seem to set his seal + To give the world assurance of a man. + This was your husband. Look you now what follows. + Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear + Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? + Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, + And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes + You cannot call it love; for at your age + The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, + And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment + Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have, + Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense + Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, + Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd + But it reserv'd some quantity of choice + To serve in such a difference. What devil was't + That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? + Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, + Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, + Or but a sickly part of one true sense + Could not so mope. + O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, + If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, + To flaming youth let virtue be as wax + And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame + When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, + Since frost itself as actively doth burn, + And reason panders will. + Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more! + Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, + And there I see such black and grained spots + As will not leave their tinct. + Ham. Nay, but to live + In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, + Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love + Over the nasty sty! + Queen. O, speak to me no more! + These words like daggers enter in mine ears. + No more, sweet Hamlet! + Ham. A murtherer and a villain! + A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe + Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; + A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, + That from a shelf the precious diadem stole + And put it in his pocket! + Queen. No more! + + Enter the Ghost in his nightgown. + + Ham. A king of shreds and patches!- + Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, + You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? + Queen. Alas, he's mad! + Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, + That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by + Th' important acting of your dread command? + O, say! + Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation + Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. + But look, amazement on thy mother sits. + O, step between her and her fighting soul + Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. + Speak to her, Hamlet. + Ham. How is it with you, lady? + Queen. Alas, how is't with you, + That you do bend your eye on vacancy, + And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? + Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; + And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, + Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, + Start up and stand an end. O gentle son, + Upon the beat and flame of thy distemper + Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look? + Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares! + His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, + Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me, + Lest with this piteous action you convert + My stern effects. Then what I have to do + Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood. + Queen. To whom do you speak this? + Ham. Do you see nothing there? + Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. + Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? + Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. + Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away! + My father, in his habit as he liv'd! + Look where he goes even now out at the portal! + Exit Ghost. + Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain. + This bodiless creation ecstasy + Is very cunning in. + Ham. Ecstasy? + My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time + And makes as healthful music. It is not madness + That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test, + And I the matter will reword; which madness + Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul + That not your trespass but my madness speaks. + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; + Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; + And do not spread the compost on the weeds + To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; + For in the fatness of these pursy times + Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg- + Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. + Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. + Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, + And live the purer with the other half, + Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed. + Assume a virtue, if you have it not. + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habits evil, is angel yet in this, + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock or livery, + That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence; the next more easy; + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either [master] the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; + And when you are desirous to be blest, + I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, + I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, + To punish me with this, and this with me, + That I must be their scourge and minister. + I will bestow him, and will answer well + The death I gave him. So again, good night. + I must be cruel, only to be kind; + Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. + One word more, good lady. + Queen. What shall I do? + Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: + Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed; + Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; + And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, + Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, + Make you to ravel all this matter out, + That I essentially am not in madness, + But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; + For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, + Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib + Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? + No, in despite of sense and secrecy, + Unpeg the basket on the house's top, + Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, + To try conclusions, in the basket creep + And break your own neck down. + Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, + And breath of life, I have no life to breathe + What thou hast said to me. + Ham. I must to England; you know that? + Queen. Alack, + I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on. + Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, + Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, + They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way + And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; + For 'tis the sport to have the enginer + Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard + But I will delve one yard below their mines + And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet + When in one line two crafts directly meet. + This man shall set me packing. + I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.- + Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor + Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, + Who was in life a foolish peating knave. + Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. + Good night, mother. + [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in + Polonius. + + + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves + You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. + Where is your son? + Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] + Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night! + King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? + Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend + Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit + Behind the arras hearing something stir, + Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' + And in this brainish apprehension kills + The unseen good old man. + King. O heavy deed! + It had been so with us, had we been there. + His liberty is full of threats to all- + To you yourself, to us, to every one. + Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? + It will be laid to us, whose providence + Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt + This mad young man. But so much was our love + We would not understand what was most fit, + But, like the owner of a foul disease, + To keep it from divulging, let it feed + Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? + Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; + O'er whom his very madness, like some ore + Among a mineral of metals base, + Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done. + King. O Gertrude, come away! + The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch + But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed + We must with all our majesty and skill + Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Friends both, go join you with some further aid. + Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, + And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him. + Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body + Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. + Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]. + Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends + And let them know both what we mean to do + And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-] + Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, + As level as the cannon to his blank, + Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name + And hit the woundless air.- O, come away! + My soul is full of discord and dismay. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A passage in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Safely stow'd. + Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! + Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? + Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. + Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence + And bear it to the chapel. + Ham. Do not believe it. + Ros. Believe what? + Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be + demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son + of a king? + Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, + his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in + the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; + first mouth'd, to be last Swallowed. When he needs what you have + glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry + again. + Ros. I understand you not, my lord. + Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. + Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to + the King. + Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. + The King is a thing- + Guil. A thing, my lord? + Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King. + + King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body. + How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! + Yet must not we put the strong law on him. + He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, + Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; + And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, + But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, + This sudden sending him away must seem + Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown + By desperate appliance are reliev'd, + Or not at all. + + Enter Rosencrantz. + + How now O What hath befall'n? + Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, + We cannot get from him. + King. But where is he? + Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. + King. Bring him before us. + Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord. + + Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants]. + + King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? + Ham. At supper. + King. At supper? Where? + Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain + convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your + only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and + we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar + is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's the + end. + King. Alas, alas! + Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat + of the fish that hath fed of that worm. + King. What dost thou mean by this? + Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through + the guts of a beggar. + King. Where is Polonius? + Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not + there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if you + find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up + the stair, into the lobby. + King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.] + Ham. He will stay till you come. + [Exeunt Attendants.] + King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,- + Which we do tender as we dearly grieve + For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence + With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself. + The bark is ready and the wind at help, + Th' associates tend, and everything is bent + For England. + Ham. For England? + King. Ay, Hamlet. + Ham. Good. + King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. + Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England! + Farewell, dear mother. + King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. + Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is + one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! +Exit. + King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard. + Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. + Away! for everything is seal'd and done + That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] + And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,- + As my great power thereof may give thee sense, + Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red + After the Danish sword, and thy free awe + Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set + Our sovereign process, which imports at full, + By letters congruing to that effect, + The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; + For like the hectic in my blood he rages, + And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, + Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit. + + + + + +Scene IV. +Near Elsinore. + +Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage. + + For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king. + Tell him that by his license Fortinbras + Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march + Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. + if that his Majesty would aught with us, + We shall express our duty in his eye; + And let him know so. + Capt. I will do't, my lord. + For. Go softly on. + Exeunt [all but the Captain]. + + Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others. + + Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? + Capt. They are of Norway, sir. + Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? + Capt. Against some part of Poland. + Ham. Who commands them, sir? + Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. + Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, + Or for some frontier? + Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition, + We go to gain a little patch of ground + That hath in it no profit but the name. + To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; + Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole + A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. + Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. + Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd. + Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats + Will not debate the question of this straw. + This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, + That inward breaks, and shows no cause without + Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir. + Capt. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit.] + Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? + Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + How all occasions do inform against me + And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, + If his chief good and market of his time + Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. + Sure he that made us with such large discourse, + Looking before and after, gave us not + That capability and godlike reason + To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be + Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple + Of thinking too precisely on th' event,- + A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom + And ever three parts coward,- I do not know + Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,' + Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means + To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me. + Witness this army of such mass and charge, + Led by a delicate and tender prince, + Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, + Makes mouths at the invisible event, + Exposing what is mortal and unsure + To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, + Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great + Is not to stir without great argument, + But greatly to find quarrel in a straw + When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, + That have a father klll'd, a mother stain'd, + Excitements of my reason and my blood, + And let all sleep, while to my shame I see + The imminent death of twenty thousand men + That for a fantasy and trick of fame + Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot + Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, + Which is not tomb enough and continent + To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, + My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit. + + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman. + + Queen. I will not speak with her. + Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract. + Her mood will needs be pitied. + Queen. What would she have? + Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears + There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart; + Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, + That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, + Yet the unshaped use of it doth move + The hearers to collection; they aim at it, + And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; + Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, + Indeed would make one think there might be thought, + Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. + Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew + Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. + Queen. Let her come in. + [Exit Gentleman.] + [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is) + Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss. + So full of artless jealousy is guilt + It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. + + Enter Ophelia distracted. + + Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? + Queen. How now, Ophelia? + Oph. (sings) + How should I your true-love know + From another one? + By his cockle bat and' staff + And his sandal shoon. + + Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? + Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark. + + (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady, + He is dead and gone; + At his head a grass-green turf, + At his heels a stone. + + O, ho! + Queen. Nay, but Ophelia- + Oph. Pray you mark. + + (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow- + + Enter King. + + Queen. Alas, look here, my lord! + Oph. (Sings) + Larded all with sweet flowers; + Which bewept to the grave did not go + With true-love showers. + + King. How do you, pretty lady? + Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. + Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at + your table! + King. Conceit upon her father. + Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what + it means, say you this: + + (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, + All in the morning bedtime, + And I a maid at your window, + To be your Valentine. + + Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es + And dupp'd the chamber door, + Let in the maid, that out a maid + Never departed more. + + King. Pretty Ophelia! + Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't! + + [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, + Alack, and fie for shame! + Young men will do't if they come to't + By Cock, they are to blame. + + Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me, + You promis'd me to wed.' + + He answers: + + 'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun, + An thou hadst not come to my bed.' + + King. How long hath she been thus? + Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot + choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground. + My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good + counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet + ladies. Good night, good night. Exit + King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. + [Exit Horatio.] + O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs + All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, + When sorrows come, they come not single spies. + But in battalions! First, her father slain; + Next, Your son gone, and he most violent author + Of his own just remove; the people muddied, + Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers + For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly + In hugger-mugger to inter him; Poor Ophelia + Divided from herself and her fair-judgment, + Without the which we are Pictures or mere beasts; + Last, and as such containing as all these, + Her brother is in secret come from France; + And wants not buzzers to infect his ear + Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds, + With pestilent speeches of his father's death, + Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, + Will nothing stick Our person to arraign + In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, + Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places + Give, me superfluous death. A noise within. + Queen. Alack, what noise is this? + King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. + + Enter a Messenger. + + What is the matter? + Mess. Save Yourself, my lord: + The ocean, overpeering of his list, + Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste + Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head, + O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord; + And, as the world were now but to begin, + Antiquity forgot, custom not known, + The ratifiers and props of every word, + They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' + Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, + 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!' + A noise within. + Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! + King. The doors are broke. + + Enter Laertes with others. + + Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without. + All. No, let's come in! + Laer. I pray you give me leave. + All. We will, we will! + Laer. I thank you. Keep the door. [Exeunt his Followers.] + O thou vile king, + Give me my father! + Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. + Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; + Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot + Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows + Of my true mother. + King. What is the cause, Laertes, + That thy rebellion looks so giantlike? + Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person. + There's such divinity doth hedge a king + That treason can but peep to what it would, + Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, + Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude. + Speak, man. + Laer. Where is my father? + King. Dead. + Queen. But not by him! + King. Let him demand his fill. + Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: + To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil + Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! + I dare damnation. To this point I stand, + That both the world, I give to negligence, + Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd + Most throughly for my father. + King. Who shall stay you? + Laer. My will, not all the world! + And for my means, I'll husband them so well + They shall go far with little. + King. Good Laertes, + If you desire to know the certainty + Of your dear father's death, is't writ in Your revenge + That swoopstake you will draw both friend and foe, + Winner and loser? + Laer. None but his enemies. + King. Will you know them then? + Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms + And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, + Repast them with my blood. + King. Why, now You speak + Like a good child and a true gentleman. + That I am guiltless of your father's death, + And am most sensibly in grief for it, + It shall as level to your judgment pierce + As day does to your eye. + A noise within: 'Let her come in.' + Laer. How now? What noise is that? + + Enter Ophelia. + + O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt + Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! + By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight + Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! + Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! + O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits + Should be as mortal as an old man's life? + Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, + It sends some precious instance of itself + After the thing it loves. + + Oph. (sings) + They bore him barefac'd on the bier + (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) + And in his grave rain'd many a tear. + + Fare you well, my dove! + Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, + It could not move thus. + Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O, + how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his + master's daughter. + Laer. This nothing's more than matter. + Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, + remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. + Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted. + Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, + and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. + O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I + would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father + died. They say he made a good end. + + [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. + + Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, + She turns to favour and to prettiness. + Oph. (sings) + And will he not come again? + And will he not come again? + No, no, he is dead; + Go to thy deathbed; + He never will come again. + + His beard was as white as snow, + All flaxen was his poll. + He is gone, he is gone, + And we cast away moan. + God 'a'mercy on his soul! + + And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi', you. +Exit. + Laer. Do you see this, O God? + King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, + Or you deny me right. Go but apart, + Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, + And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me. + If by direct or by collateral hand + They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, + Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, + To you in satisfaction; but if not, + Be you content to lend your patience to us, + And we shall jointly labour with your soul + To give it due content. + Laer. Let this be so. + His means of death, his obscure funeral- + No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, + No noble rite nor formal ostentation,- + Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, + That I must call't in question. + King. So you shall; + And where th' offence is let the great axe fall. + I pray you go with me. + Exeunt + + + + + +Scene VI. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio with an Attendant. + + Hor. What are they that would speak with me? + Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you. + Hor. Let them come in. + [Exit Attendant.] + I do not know from what part of the world + I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. + + Enter Sailors. + + Sailor. God bless you, sir. + Hor. Let him bless thee too. + Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, + sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England- if + your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. + Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlook'd + this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have + letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of + very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too + slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I + boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I + alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves + of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn for + them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou + to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words + to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too + light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring + thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course + for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. + 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' + + Come, I will give you way for these your letters, + And do't the speedier that you may direct me + To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt. + + + + + +Scene VII. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Laertes. + + King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, + And You must put me in your heart for friend, + Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, + That he which hath your noble father slain + Pursued my life. + Laer. It well appears. But tell me + Why you proceeded not against these feats + So crimeful and so capital in nature, + As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, + You mainly were stirr'd up. + King. O, for two special reasons, + Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, + But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother + Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,- + My virtue or my plague, be it either which,- + She's so conjunctive to my life and soul + That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, + I could not but by her. The other motive + Why to a public count I might not go + Is the great love the general gender bear him, + Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, + Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, + Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows, + Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, + Would have reverted to my bow again, + And not where I had aim'd them. + Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; + A sister driven into desp'rate terms, + Whose worth, if praises may go back again, + Stood challenger on mount of all the age + For her perfections. But my revenge will come. + King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think + That we are made of stuff so flat and dull + That we can let our beard be shook with danger, + And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more. + I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, + And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine- + + Enter a Messenger with letters. + + How now? What news? + Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: + This to your Majesty; this to the Queen. + King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? + Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not. + They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them + Of him that brought them. + King. Laertes, you shall hear them. + Leave us. + Exit Messenger. + [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on your + kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; + when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the + occasion of my sudden and more strange return. + 'HAMLET.' + What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? + Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? + Laer. Know you the hand? + King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!' + And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' + Can you advise me? + Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come! + It warms the very sickness in my heart + That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, + 'Thus didest thou.' + King. If it be so, Laertes + (As how should it be so? how otherwise?), + Will you be rul'd by me? + Laer. Ay my lord, + So you will not o'errule me to a peace. + King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd + As checking at his voyage, and that he means + No more to undertake it, I will work him + To exploit now ripe in my device, + Under the which he shall not choose but fall; + And for his death no wind + But even his mother shall uncharge the practice + And call it accident. + Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd; + The rather, if you could devise it so + That I might be the organ. + King. It falls right. + You have been talk'd of since your travel much, + And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality + Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts + Did not together pluck such envy from him + As did that one; and that, in my regard, + Of the unworthiest siege. + Laer. What part is that, my lord? + King. A very riband in the cap of youth- + Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes + The light and careless livery that it wears + Thin settled age his sables and his weeds, + Importing health and graveness. Two months since + Here was a gentleman of Normandy. + I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, + And they can well on horseback; but this gallant + Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat, + And to such wondrous doing brought his horse + As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd + With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought + That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, + Come short of what he did. + Laer. A Norman was't? + King. A Norman. + Laer. Upon my life, Lamound. + King. The very same. + Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed + And gem of all the nation. + King. He made confession of you; + And gave you such a masterly report + For art and exercise in your defence, + And for your rapier most especially, + That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed + If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation + He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, + If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his + Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy + That he could nothing do but wish and beg + Your sudden coming o'er to play with you. + Now, out of this- + Laer. What out of this, my lord? + King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? + Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, + A face without a heart,' + Laer. Why ask you this? + King. Not that I think you did not love your father; + But that I know love is begun by time, + And that I see, in passages of proof, + Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. + There lives within the very flame of love + A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; + And nothing is at a like goodness still; + For goodness, growing to a plurisy, + Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer! + Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake + To show yourself your father's son in deed + More than in words? + Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church! + King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize; + Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, + Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber. + Will return'd shall know you are come home. + We'll put on those shall praise your excellence + And set a double varnish on the fame + The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together + And wager on your heads. He, being remiss, + Most generous, and free from all contriving, + Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease, + Or with a little shuffling, you may choose + A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice, + Requite him for your father. + Laer. I will do't! + And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. + I bought an unction of a mountebank, + So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, + Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, + Collected from all simples that have virtue + Under the moon, can save the thing from death + This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point + With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, + It may be death. + King. Let's further think of this, + Weigh what convenience both of time and means + May fit us to our shape. If this should fall, + And that our drift look through our bad performance. + 'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project + Should have a back or second, that might hold + If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see. + We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings- + I ha't! + When in your motion you are hot and dry- + As make your bouts more violent to that end- + And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him + A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, + If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, + Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise, + + Enter Queen. + + How now, sweet queen? + Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, + So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. + Laer. Drown'd! O, where? + Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook, + That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. + There with fantastic garlands did she come + Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, + That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, + But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. + There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds + Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, + When down her weedy trophies and herself + Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide + And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; + Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, + As one incapable of her own distress, + Or like a creature native and indued + Unto that element; but long it could not be + Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, + Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay + To muddy death. + Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd? + Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. + Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, + And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet + It is our trick; nature her custom holds, + Let shame say what it will. When these are gone, + The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord. + I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze + But that this folly douts it. Exit. + King. Let's follow, Gertrude. + How much I had to do to calm his rage I + Now fear I this will give it start again; + Therefore let's follow. + Exeunt. + + + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Elsinore. A churchyard. + +Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes]. + + Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully + seeks her own salvation? + Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight. + The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial. + Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own + defence? + Other. Why, 'tis found so. + Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies + the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an + act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform; + argal, she drown'd herself wittingly. + Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver! + Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the + man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, + will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water come to + him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not + guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. + Other. But is this law? + Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law. + Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a + gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. + Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk + should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves + more than their even-Christen. Come, my spade! There is no + ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They + hold up Adam's profession. + Other. Was he a gentleman? + Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms. + Other. Why, he had none. + Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? + The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms? I'll + put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the + purpose, confess thyself- + Other. Go to! + Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the + shipwright, or the carpenter? + Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand + tenants. + Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well. + But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, + thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the + church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come! + Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a + carpenter? + Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. + Other. Marry, now I can tell! + Clown. To't. + Other. Mass, I cannot tell. + + Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off. + + Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will + not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this + question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts + till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of + liquor. + [Exit Second Clown.] + + [Clown digs and] sings. + + In youth when I did love, did love, + Methought it was very sweet; + To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove, + O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet. + + Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at + grave-making? + Hor. Custom hath made it in him a Property of easiness. + Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier + sense. + Clown. (sings) + But age with his stealing steps + Hath clawed me in his clutch, + And hath shipped me intil the land, + As if I had never been such. + [Throws up a skull.] + + Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the + knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that + did the first murther! This might be the pate of a Politician, + which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, + might it not? + Hor. It might, my lord. + Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! + How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one, that + prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it- might + it not? + Hor. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd + about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, + and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the + breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think + on't. + Clown. (Sings) + A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, + For and a shrouding sheet; + O, a Pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + Throws up [another skull]. + + Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? + Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, + and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock + him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him + of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a + great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his + fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of + his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine + pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of + his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth + of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will + scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have no + more, ha? + Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. + Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins? + Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too. + Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I + will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? + Clown. Mine, sir. + + [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + + Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't. + Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. + For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. + Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis for + the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. + Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you. + Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? + Clown. For no man, sir. + Ham. What woman then? + Clown. For none neither. + Ham. Who is to be buried in't? + Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. + Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or + equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three years + I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe + of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he galls + his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker? + Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our + last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. + Ham. How long is that since? + Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the + very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent + into England. + Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England? + Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits there; + or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there. + Ham. Why? + Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as mad as + he. + Ham. How came he mad? + Clown. Very strangely, they say. + Ham. How strangely? + Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. + Ham. Upon what ground? + Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy + thirty years. + Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot? + Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have many + pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in, I + will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last + you nine year. + Ham. Why he more than another? + Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a will + keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of + your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath lien + you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years. + Ham. Whose was it? + Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was? + Ham. Nay, I know not. + Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon of + Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's + skull, the King's jester. + Ham. This? + Clown. E'en that. + Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, + Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He + hath borne me on his back a thousand tunes. And now how abhorred + in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those + lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes + now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that + were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your + own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's + chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this + favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, + tell me one thing. + Hor. What's that, my lord? + Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth? + Hor. E'en so. + Ham. And smelt so? Pah! + [Puts down the skull.] + Hor. E'en so, my lord. + Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not + imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it + stopping a bunghole? + Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. + Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty + enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, + Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is + earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto he + was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel? + Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. + O, that that earth which kept the world in awe + Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! + But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King- + + Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King, + Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.] + + The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? + And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken + The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand + Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate. + Couch we awhile, and mark. + [Retires with Horatio.] + Laer. What ceremony else? + Ham. That is Laertes, + A very noble youth. Mark. + Laer. What ceremony else? + Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd + As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful; + And, but that great command o'ersways the order, + She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd + Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers, + Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. + Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, + Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home + Of bell and burial. + Laer. Must there no more be done? + Priest. No more be done. + We should profane the service of the dead + To sing a requiem and such rest to her + As to peace-parted souls. + Laer. Lay her i' th' earth; + And from her fair and unpolluted flesh + May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, + A minist'ring angel shall my sister be + When thou liest howling. + Ham. What, the fair Ophelia? + Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell. + [Scatters flowers.] + I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; + I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, + And not have strew'd thy grave. + Laer. O, treble woe + Fall ten times treble on that cursed head + Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense + Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, + Till I have caught her once more in mine arms. + Leaps in the grave. + Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead + Till of this flat a mountain you have made + T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head + Of blue Olympus. + Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief + Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow + Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand + Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, + Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps in after Laertes. + Laer. The devil take thy soul! + [Grapples with him]. + Ham. Thou pray'st not well. + I prithee take thy fingers from my throat; + For, though I am not splenitive and rash, + Yet have I in me something dangerous, + Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand! + King. Pluck thein asunder. + Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! + All. Gentlemen! + Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. + [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the + grave.] + Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme + Until my eyelids will no longer wag. + Queen. O my son, what theme? + Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers + Could not (with all their quantity of love) + Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? + King. O, he is mad, Laertes. + Queen. For love of God, forbear him! + Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do. + Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? + Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile? + I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? + To outface me with leaping in her grave? + Be buried quick with her, and so will I. + And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw + Millions of acres on us, till our ground, + Singeing his pate against the burning zone, + Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, + I'll rant as well as thou. + Queen. This is mere madness; + And thus a while the fit will work on him. + Anon, as patient as the female dove + When that her golden couplets are disclos'd, + His silence will sit drooping. + Ham. Hear you, sir! + What is the reason that you use me thus? + I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter. + Let Hercules himself do what he may, + The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. +Exit. + King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. + Exit Horatio. + [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech. + We'll put the matter to the present push.- + Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.- + This grave shall have a living monument. + An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; + Till then in patience our proceeding be. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and Horatio. + + Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other. + You do remember all the circumstance? + Hor. Remember it, my lord! + Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting + That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay + Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly- + And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know, + Our indiscretion sometime serves us well + When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us + There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will- + Hor. That is most certain. + Ham. Up from my cabin, + My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark + Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire, + Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew + To mine own room again; making so bold + (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal + Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio + (O royal knavery!), an exact command, + Larded with many several sorts of reasons, + Importing Denmark's health, and England's too, + With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life- + That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, + No, not to stay the finding of the axe, + My head should be struck off. + Hor. Is't possible? + Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure. + But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed? + Hor. I beseech you. + Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies, + Or I could make a prologue to my brains, + They had begun the play. I sat me down; + Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair. + I once did hold it, as our statists do, + A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much + How to forget that learning; but, sir, now + It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know + Th' effect of what I wrote? + Hor. Ay, good my lord. + Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King, + As England was his faithful tributary, + As love between them like the palm might flourish, + As peace should still her wheaten garland wear + And stand a comma 'tween their amities, + And many such-like as's of great charge, + That, on the view and knowing of these contents, + Without debatement further, more or less, + He should the bearers put to sudden death, + Not shriving time allow'd. + Hor. How was this seal'd? + Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. + I had my father's signet in my purse, + which was the model of that Danish seal; + Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, + Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely, + The changeling never known. Now, the next day + Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent + Thou know'st already. + Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. + Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment! + They are not near my conscience; their defeat + Does by their own insinuation grow. + 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes + Between the pass and fell incensed points + Of mighty opposites. + Hor. Why, what a king is this! + Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon- + He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; + Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes; + Thrown out his angle for my Proper life, + And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience + To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd + To let this canker of our nature come + In further evil? + Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England + What is the issue of the business there. + Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine, + And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.' + But I am very sorry, good Horatio, + That to Laertes I forgot myself, + For by the image of my cause I see + The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours. + But sure the bravery of his grief did put me + Into a tow'ring passion. + Hor. Peace! Who comes here? + + Enter young Osric, a courtier. + + Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. + Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this + waterfly? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord. + Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a + vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast be + lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess. 'Tis + a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. + Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart + a thing to you from his Majesty. + Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your + bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head. + Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot. + Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. + Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. + Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. + Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I cannot + tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that + he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter- + Ham. I beseech you remember. + [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.] + Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is + newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, + full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and + great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card + or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of + what part a gentleman would see. + Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I + know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of + memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail. + But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great + article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make + true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else + would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. + Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. + Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more + rawer breath + Osr. Sir? + Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in another + tongue? You will do't, sir, really. + Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman + Osr. Of Laertes? + Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are + spent. + Ham. Of him, sir. + Osr. I know you are not ignorant- + Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not + much approve me. Well, sir? + Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is- + Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in + excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself. + Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him + by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. + Ham. What's his weapon? + Osr. Rapier and dagger. + Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well. + Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses; + against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French + rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and + so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, + very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of + very liberal conceit. + Ham. What call you the carriages? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the margent + ere you had done. + Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. + Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could + carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. + But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their + assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the French + bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call it? + Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between + yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath + laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial + if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer. + Ham. How if I answer no? + Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. + Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, + it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be + brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, + I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my + shame and the odd hits. + Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so? + Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will. + Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. + Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it + himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. + Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. + Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has he, + and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes + on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter- + a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and + through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but blow + them to their trial-the bubbles are out, + + Enter a Lord. + + Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who + brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends to + know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will + take longer time. + Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's pleasure. + If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided + I be so able as now. + Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down. + Ham. In happy time. + Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to + Laertes before you fall to play. + Ham. She well instructs me. + [Exit Lord.] + Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. + Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been in + continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not + think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter. + Hor. Nay, good my lord - + Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as + would perhaps trouble a woman. + Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their + repair hither and say you are not fit. + Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence in + the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come', if it be + not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: + the readiness is all. Since no man knows aught of what he leaves, + what is't to leave betimes? Let be. + + Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other + Attendants with foils and gauntlets. + A table and flagons of wine on it. + + King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. + [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.] + Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; + But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. + This presence knows, + And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd + With sore distraction. What I have done + That might your nature, honour, and exception + Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. + Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet. + If Hamlet from himself be taken away, + And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, + Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. + Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so, + Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; + His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. + Sir, in this audience, + Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil + Free me so far in your most generous thoughts + That I have shot my arrow o'er the house + And hurt my brother. + Laer. I am satisfied in nature, + Whose motive in this case should stir me most + To my revenge. But in my terms of honour + I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement + Till by some elder masters of known honour + I have a voice and precedent of peace + To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time + I do receive your offer'd love like love, + And will not wrong it. + Ham. I embrace it freely, + And will this brother's wager frankly play. + Give us the foils. Come on. + Laer. Come, one for me. + Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance + Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, + Stick fiery off indeed. + Laer. You mock me, sir. + Ham. No, by this bad. + King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, + You know the wager? + Ham. Very well, my lord. + Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side. + King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both; + But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. + Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another. + Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length? + Prepare to play. + Osr. Ay, my good lord. + King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. + If Hamlet give the first or second hit, + Or quit in answer of the third exchange, + Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; + The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, + And in the cup an union shall he throw + Richer than that which four successive kings + In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; + And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, + The trumpet to the cannoneer without, + The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, + 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. + And you the judges, bear a wary eye. + Ham. Come on, sir. + Laer. Come, my lord. They play. + Ham. One. + Laer. No. + Ham. Judgment! + Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. + Laer. Well, again! + King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; + Here's to thy health. + [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within]. + Give him the cup. + Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. + Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you? + Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't. + King. Our son shall win. + Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. + Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. + The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. + Ham. Good madam! + King. Gertrude, do not drink. + Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. Drinks. + King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. + Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by. + Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. + Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. + King. I do not think't. + Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience. + Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally. + pray You Pass with your best violence; + I am afeard You make a wanton of me. + Laer. Say you so? Come on. Play. + Osr. Nothing neither way. + Laer. Have at you now! + [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they + change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes]. + King. Part them! They are incens'd. + Ham. Nay come! again! The Queen falls. + Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho! + Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? + Osr. How is't, Laertes? + Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric. + I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. + Ham. How does the Queen? + King. She sounds to see them bleed. + Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! + The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.] + Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd. + Treachery! Seek it out. + [Laertes falls.] + Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain; + No medicine in the world can do thee good. + In thee there is not half an hour of life. + The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, + Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice + Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie, + Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd. + I can no more. The King, the King's to blame. + Ham. The point envenom'd too? + Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King. + All. Treason! treason! + King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt. + Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, + Drink off this potion! Is thy union here? + Follow my mother. King dies. + Laer. He is justly serv'd. + It is a poison temper'd by himself. + Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. + Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, + Nor thine on me! Dies. + Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. + I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! + You that look pale and tremble at this chance, + That are but mutes or audience to this act, + Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, + Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you- + But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; + Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright + To the unsatisfied. + Hor. Never believe it. + I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. + Here's yet some liquor left. + Ham. As th'art a man, + Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't. + O good Horatio, what a wounded name + (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me! + If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, + Absent thee from felicity awhile, + And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, + To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.] + What warlike noise is this? + Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, + To the ambassadors of England gives + This warlike volley. + Ham. O, I die, Horatio! + The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. + I cannot live to hear the news from England, + But I do prophesy th' election lights + On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. + So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, + Which have solicited- the rest is silence. Dies. + Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! + [March within.] + Why does the drum come hither? + + Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum, + Colours, and Attendants. + + Fort. Where is this sight? + Hor. What is it you will see? + If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. + Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, + What feast is toward in thine eternal cell + That thou so many princes at a shot + So bloodily hast struck. + Ambassador. The sight is dismal; + And our affairs from England come too late. + The ears are senseless that should give us bearing + To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd + That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. + Where should We have our thanks? + Hor. Not from his mouth, + Had it th' ability of life to thank you. + He never gave commandment for their death. + But since, so jump upon this bloody question, + You from the Polack wars, and you from England, + Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies + High on a stage be placed to the view; + And let me speak to the yet unknowing world + How these things came about. So shall You hear + Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; + Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; + Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; + And, in this upshot, purposes mistook + Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I + Truly deliver. + Fort. Let us haste to hear it, + And call the noblest to the audience. + For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. + I have some rights of memory in this kingdom + Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me. + Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak, + And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. + But let this same be presently perform'd, + Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance + On plots and errors happen. + Fort. Let four captains + Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage; + For he was likely, had he been put on, + To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage + The soldiers' music and the rites of war + Speak loudly for him. + Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this + Becomes the field but here shows much amiss. + Go, bid the soldiers shoot. + Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance + are shot off. + + +THE END \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/ciphers/files/simple.txt b/ciphers/files/simple.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49d82fc --- /dev/null +++ b/ciphers/files/simple.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +Hi everyone, + +We're using Ed Discussion for class Q&A. +This is the best place to ask questions about the course, whether curricular or administrative. You will get faster answers here from staff and peers than through email. + +Here are some tips: +Search before you post +Heart questions and answers you find useful +Answer questions you feel confident answering +Share interesting course related content with staff and peers + +For more information on Ed Discussion, you can refer to the Quick Start Guide. + +All the best this semester! +Brett \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/ciphers/lib/junit-platform-console-standalone-1.10.2.jar b/ciphers/lib/junit-platform-console-standalone-1.10.2.jar new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ca10e6 Binary files /dev/null and b/ciphers/lib/junit-platform-console-standalone-1.10.2.jar differ diff --git a/debugging/2XIGPFWWQh6rdNJQSyU34zis b/debugging/2XIGPFWWQh6rdNJQSyU34zis new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d097ce Binary files /dev/null and b/debugging/2XIGPFWWQh6rdNJQSyU34zis differ diff --git a/debugging/Book.java b/debugging/Book.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..05ef36d --- /dev/null +++ b/debugging/Book.java @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +import java.util.*; + +public class Book implements Media { + + private String title; + private String author; + private List authors; + private List ratings; + + public Book(String title, String author) { + this.title = title; + this.author = author; + } + + public Book(String title, List authors) { + this.title = title; + this.authors = authors; + } + + public String getTitle() { + return this.title; + } + + public List getArtists() { + List artists = new ArrayList<>(); + if (this.author != null) { + artists.add(this.author); + } + + if (this.authors != null) { + for (String author : authors) { + artists.add(author); + } + } + return artists; + } + + public void addRating(int score) { + if (this.ratings == null) { + ratings = new ArrayList<>(); + } + this.ratings.add(score); + } + + public int getNumRatings() { + + if (this.ratings == null) { + return 0; + } + + return this.ratings.size(); + } + + public double getAverageRating() { + if (this.ratings == null) { + return 0; + } + + int sum = 0; + for (int rating : ratings) { + sum += rating; + } + + return (double)sum / this.ratings.size(); + } + + public String toString() { + return this.title + " by " + this.getArtists() + ": " + this.getAverageRating() + + (this.ratings.size()) + " ratings"; + } +} diff --git a/debugging/Debugging.java b/debugging/Debugging.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9e301f --- /dev/null +++ b/debugging/Debugging.java @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +import java.util.*; + +public class Debugging { + public static void main(String[] args) { + Map> testMap = new TreeMap<>(); + Set c121 = arrToSet(new int[]{42, 17, 42, 42}); + Set c122 = arrToSet(new int[]{10, 12, 14}); + Set c123 = arrToSet(new int[]{100, 99, 98, -97}); + testMap.put("cse121", c121); + testMap.put("cse122", c122); + testMap.put("cse123", c123); + + Map> deepCopyMap = deepCopy(testMap); + + if (deepCopyMap.isEmpty()) { + System.out.println("{}"); + } else { + String line = ""; + for (String key : deepCopyMap.keySet()) { + line += key + "=" + deepCopyMap.get(key).toString() + ", "; + } + System.out.println("{" + line.substring(0, line.length() - 2) + "}"); + } + } + + public static Set arrToSet(int[] arr) { + Set s = new TreeSet<>(); + for (int num : arr) { + s.add(num); + } + return s; + } + + // Produces and returns a "deep copy" of the parameter map, which has the same + // structure and values as the parameter, but with all internal data structures + // and values copied. After calling this method, modifying the parameter or + // return value should NOT affect the other. + // + // Parameters: + // inputMap - the map to duplicate + // + // Returns: + // A deep copy of the parameter map. + public static Map> deepCopy(Map> inputMap) { + Map> deepCopy = new TreeMap<>(); + + for (String key : inputMap.keySet()) { + Set inputSet = new TreeSet<>(inputMap.get(key)); + // Set inputSet = inputMap.get(key); + deepCopy.put(key, inputSet); + } + return deepCopy; + } +} diff --git a/debugging/InvertedIndex.java b/debugging/InvertedIndex.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65284f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/debugging/InvertedIndex.java @@ -0,0 +1,52 @@ +import java.util.*; + +public class InvertedIndex { + public static void main(String[] args) { + List docs = new ArrayList<>(); + docs.add("Raiders of the Lost Ark"); + docs.add("The Temple of Doom"); + docs.add("The Last Crusade"); + + Map> result = createIndex(docs); + System.out.println(docs); + System.out.println(); + System.out.println(result); + } + + // TODO: Write and document your createIndex method here + + public static Map> createIndex(List docs) { + Map> index = new TreeMap<>(); + Set uniqueWords = getUniqueWords(docs); + + for (String uniqueWord : uniqueWords) { + index.put(uniqueWord.toLowerCase(), new HashSet()); + } + + for (String word : index.keySet()) { + for (int i = 0; i < docs.size(); i++) { + Scanner wordScanner = new Scanner(docs.get(i)); + while (wordScanner.hasNext()) { + if (wordScanner.next().equalsIgnoreCase(word)) { + index.get(word).add(docs.get(i)); + } + } + } + } + return index; + } + + public static Set getUniqueWords(List docs) { + Set uniqueWords = new HashSet<>(); + for (String title : docs) { + Scanner titleScanner = new Scanner(title); + while (titleScanner.hasNext()) { + uniqueWords.add(titleScanner.next()); + } + titleScanner.close(); + } + return uniqueWords; + } + + +} diff --git a/debugging/Media.java b/debugging/Media.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee9614e --- /dev/null +++ b/debugging/Media.java @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ +import java.util.*; + +/** + * An interface to represent various types of media (movies, books, tv shows, songs, etc.). + */ +public interface Media { + /** + * Gets the title of this media. + * + * @return The title of this media. + */ + public String getTitle(); + + /** + * Gets all artists associated with this media. + * + * @return A list of artists for this media. + */ + public List getArtists(); + + /** + * Adds a rating to this media. + * + * @param score The score for the new rating. Should be non-negative. + */ + public void addRating(int score); + + /** + * Gets the number of times this media has been rated. + * + * @return The number of ratings for this media. + */ + public int getNumRatings(); + + /** + * Gets the average (mean) of all ratings for this media. + * + * @return The average (mean) of all ratings for this media. If no ratings exist, returns 0. + */ + public double getAverageRating(); +} diff --git a/debugging/Testing.java b/debugging/Testing.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a50fe62 --- /dev/null +++ b/debugging/Testing.java @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ +import org.junit.jupiter.api.*; +import static org.junit.jupiter.api.Assertions.*; +import java.util.*; + +public class Testing { + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST CASE - createIndex Example") + public void firstCaseTest() { + List documents = new ArrayList<>(List.of("The Bee Movie is great!", + "I love the Bee Movie", + "Y'all seen Dune 2?")); + Map> index = InvertedIndex.createIndex(documents); + + // Make sure that tokens are correctly converted to lower case + assertTrue(index.containsKey("bee")); + assertFalse(index.containsKey("Bee")); + + // Make sure that punctuation is ignored + assertTrue(index.containsKey("great!")); + assertFalse(index.containsKey("great")); + + // Check one of the sets + assertEquals(Set.of("The Bee Movie is great!", + "I love the Bee Movie"), + index.get("movie")); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST CASE - Book 2 String constructor + getters") + public void secondCaseTest() { + Book b = new Book("Title", "Author"); + + // Test all getters after constructing with 2 Strings + assertEquals("Title", b.getTitle()); + assertEquals(List.of("Author"), b.getArtists()); + assertEquals(0, b.getNumRatings()); + assertEquals(0.0, b.getAverageRating()); + } +} diff --git a/p1/.vscode/launch.json b/p1/.vscode/launch.json new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7ce3b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/p1/.vscode/launch.json @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +{ + // Use IntelliSense to learn about possible attributes. + // Hover to view descriptions of existing attributes. + // For more information, visit: https://go.microsoft.com/fwlink/?linkid=830387 + "version": "0.2.0", + "configurations": [ + { + "type": "java", + "name": "Current File", + "request": "launch", + "mainClass": "${file}" + }, + { + "type": "java", + "name": "Client", + "request": "launch", + "mainClass": "Client", + "projectName": "p1_b4eddd44" + } + ] +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/p1/Client.java b/p1/Client.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..510ed82 --- /dev/null +++ b/p1/Client.java @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ +import java.util.*; + +// A program to work with Mini-Git. Manages the state of repositories and allows for all +// operations defined in Mini-Git. +public class Client { + private static List ops = new ArrayList<>(); + + public static void main(String[] args) { + Collections.addAll(ops, "create", "head", "history", "commit", "drop", + "synchronize", "quit"); + Scanner console = new Scanner(System.in); + Map repos = new HashMap<>(); + String op = ""; + String name = ""; + + intro(); + + while (!op.equalsIgnoreCase("quit")) { + System.out.println("Available repositories: "); + for (Repository repo : repos.values()) { + System.out.println("\t" + repo); + } + System.out.println("Operations: " + ops); + System.out.print("Enter operation and repository: "); + String[] input = console.nextLine().split("\\s+"); + op = input[0]; + name = input.length > 1 ? input[1] : ""; + while (!ops.contains(op) || (!op.equalsIgnoreCase("create") && + !op.equalsIgnoreCase("quit") && + !repos.containsKey(name))) { + System.out.println(" **ERROR**: Operation or repository not recognized."); + System.out.print("Enter operation and repository: "); + input = console.nextLine().split("\\s+"); + op = input[0]; + name = input.length > 1 ? input[1] : ""; + } + + Repository currRepo = repos.get(name); + op = op.toLowerCase(); + if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("create")) { + if (currRepo != null) { + System.out.println(" **ERROR**: Repository with that name already exists."); + } else { + Repository newRepo = new Repository(name); + repos.put(name, newRepo); + System.out.println(" New repository created: " + newRepo); + } + } else if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("head")) { + System.out.println(currRepo.getRepoHead()); + } else if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("history")) { + System.out.print("How many commits back? "); + int nHist = console.nextInt(); + console.nextLine(); + System.out.println(currRepo.getHistory(nHist)); + } else if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("commit")) { + System.out.print("Enter commit message: "); + String message = console.nextLine(); + System.out.println(" New commit: " + currRepo.commit(message)); + } else if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("drop")) { + System.out.print("Enter ID to drop: "); + String idDrop = console.nextLine(); + if (currRepo.drop(idDrop)) { + System.out.println(" Successfully dropped " + idDrop); + } else { + System.out.println(" No commit dropped!"); + } + } else if (op.equalsIgnoreCase("synchronize")) { + System.out.print("Which repository would you like to " + + "synchronize into the given one? "); + String repo = console.nextLine(); + if (repo.equals(name)) { + System.out.println("Cannot synchronize the same repositories!"); + } else if (!repos.containsKey(repo)) { + System.out.println("Repository does not exist!"); + } else { + currRepo.synchronize(repos.get(repo)); + } + } + System.out.println(); + } + } + + // Prints out an introduction to the Mini-Git test client. + public static void intro() { + System.out.println("Welcome to the Mini-Git test client!"); + System.out.println("Use this program to test your Mini-Git repository implemenation."); + System.out.println("Make sure to test all operations in all cases --"); + System.out.println("some cases are particularly tricky."); + System.out.println(); + } +} diff --git a/p1/ExampleTesting.java b/p1/ExampleTesting.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c00e3f --- /dev/null +++ b/p1/ExampleTesting.java @@ -0,0 +1,148 @@ +import org.junit.jupiter.api.*; +import static org.junit.jupiter.api.Assertions.*; +import java.util.*; + +public class Testing { + private Repository repo1; + private Repository repo2; + + // Occurs before each of the individual test cases + // (creates new repos and resets commit ids) + @BeforeEach + public void setUp() { + repo1 = new Repository("repo1"); + repo2 = new Repository("repo2"); + Repository.Commit.resetIds(); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST - getHistory()") + public void getHistory() throws InterruptedException { + // Initialize commit messages + String[] commitMessages = new String[]{"Initial commit.", + "Updated method documentation.", + "Removed unnecessary object creation."}; + commitAll(repo1, commitMessages); + testHistory(repo1, 1, commitMessages); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST - drop() (empty case)") + public void testDropEmpty() { + assertFalse(repo1.drop("123")); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST - drop() (front case)") + public void testDropFront() throws InterruptedException { + // Initialize commit messages + commitAll(repo1, new String[]{"First commit"}); // ID "0" + commitAll(repo2, new String[]{"Added unit tests."}); // ID "1" + + // Assert that repo1 successfully dropped "0" + assertTrue(repo1.drop("0")); + assertEquals(repo1.getRepoSize(), 0); + + // Assert that repo2 does not drop "0" but drops "1" + // (Note that the commit ID increments regardless of the repository!) + assertFalse(repo2.drop("0")); + assertTrue(repo2.drop("1")); + assertEquals(repo2.getRepoSize(), 0); + } + + @Test + @DisplayName("EXAMPLE TEST - synchronize() (one: [1, 2], two: [3, 4])") + public void testSynchronizeOne() throws InterruptedException { + // Initialize commit messages + commitAll(repo1, new String[]{"One", "Two"}); + commitAll(repo2, new String[]{"Three", "Four"}); + + // Make sure both repos got exactly 2 commits each + assertEquals(2, repo1.getRepoSize()); + assertEquals(2, repo2.getRepoSize()); + + // Synchronize repo2 into repo1 + repo1.synchronize(repo2); + assertEquals(4, repo1.getRepoSize()); + assertEquals(0, repo2.getRepoSize()); + + // Make sure the history of repo1 is correctly synchronized + testHistory(repo1, 4, new String[]{"One", "Two", "Three", "Four"}); + } + + // Commits all of the provided messages into the provided repo, making sure timestamps + // are correctly sequential (no ties). If used, make sure to include + // 'throws InterruptedException' + // much like we do with 'throws FileNotFoundException'. Example useage: + // + // repo1: + // head -> null + // To commit the messages "one", "two", "three", "four" + // commitAll(repo1, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // This results in the following after picture + // repo1: + // head -> "four" -> "three" -> "two" -> "one" -> null + // + // YOU DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS METHOD WORKS TO USE IT! + // (this is why documentation is important!) + public void commitAll(Repository repo, String[] messages) throws InterruptedException { + // Commit all of the provided messages + for (String message : messages) { + int size = repo.getRepoSize(); + repo.commit(message); + + // Make sure exactly one commit was added to the repo + assertEquals(size + 1, repo.getRepoSize(), + String.format("Size not correctly updated after commiting message [%s]", + message)); + + // Sleep to guarantee that all commits have different time stamps + Thread.sleep(2); + } + } + + // Makes sure the given repositories history is correct up to 'n' commits, checking against + // all commits made in order. Example useage: + // + // repo1: + // head -> "four" -> "three" -> "two" -> "one" -> null + // (Commits made in the order ["one", "two", "three", "four"]) + // To test the getHistory() method up to n=3 commits this can be done with: + // testHistory(repo1, 3, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // Similarly, to test getHistory() up to n=4 commits you'd use: + // testHistory(repo1, 4, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // + // YOU DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS METHOD WORKS TO USE IT! + // (this is why documentation is important!) + public void testHistory(Repository repo, int n, String[] allCommits) { + int totalCommits = repo.getRepoSize(); + assertTrue(n <= totalCommits, + String.format("Provided n [%d] too big. Only [%d] commits", + n, totalCommits)); + + String[] nCommits = repo.getHistory(n).split("\n"); + + assertTrue(nCommits.length <= n, + String.format("getHistory(n) returned more than n [%d] commits", n)); + assertTrue(nCommits.length <= allCommits.length, + String.format("Not enough expected commits to check against. " + + "Expected at least [%d]. Actual [%d]", + n, allCommits.length)); + + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + String commit = nCommits[i]; + + // Old commit messages/ids are on the left and the more recent commit messages/ids are + // on the right so need to traverse from right to left + int backwardsIndex = totalCommits - 1 - i; + String commitMessage = allCommits[backwardsIndex]; + + assertTrue(commit.contains(commitMessage), + String.format("Commit [%s] doesn't contain expected message [%s]", + commit, commitMessage)); + assertTrue(commit.contains("" + backwardsIndex), + String.format("Commit [%s] doesn't contain expected id [%d]", + commit, backwardsIndex)); + } + } +} diff --git a/p1/Repository.java b/p1/Repository.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c45aca9 --- /dev/null +++ b/p1/Repository.java @@ -0,0 +1,146 @@ +import java.util.*; +import java.text.SimpleDateFormat; + +public class Repository { + + private String name; + private LinkedList commits; + + public Repository(String name) { + if (name.isEmpty() || name == null) { + throw new IllegalArgumentException("Repository must have a name!"); + } + this.name = name; + this.commits = new LinkedList<>(); + } + + public String getRepoHead() { + return commits.peek().id; + } + + public int getRepoSize() { + return commits.size(); + } + + public String toString() { + return name + " - Current head: " + commits.peek().toString(); + } + + public boolean contains(String targetId) { + for (Commit commit : commits) { + if (commit.id == targetId) { + return true; + } + } + return false; + } + + public String getHistory(int n) { + String output = ""; + for (int i = 0; i < commits.size() - 1; i++) { + output += commits.get(i).toString() + "\n"; + } + return output; + } + + public String commit(String message) { + commits.add(new Commit(message)); + return commits.peek().id; + } + + public boolean drop(String targetId) { + for (int n = 0; n < commits.size() - 1; n ++) { + if (commits.get(n).id == targetId) { + commits.remove(n); + return true; + } + } + return false; + } + + public void synchronize(Repository other) { + + } + /** + * DO NOT MODIFY + * A class that represents a single commit in the repository. + * Commits are characterized by an identifier, a commit message, + * and the time that the commit was made. A commit also stores + * a reference to the immediately previous commit if it exists. + * + * Staff Note: You may notice that the comments in this + * class openly mention the fields of the class. This is fine + * because the fields of the Commit class are public. In general, + * be careful about revealing implementation details! + */ + public class Commit { + + private static int currentCommitID; + + /** + * The time, in milliseconds, at which this commit was created. + */ + public final long timeStamp; + + /** + * A unique identifier for this commit. + */ + public final String id; + + /** + * A message describing the changes made in this commit. + */ + public final String message; + + /** + * A reference to the previous commit, if it exists. Otherwise, null. + */ + public Commit past; + + /** + * Constructs a commit object. The unique identifier and timestamp + * are automatically generated. + * @param message A message describing the changes made in this commit. + * @param past A reference to the commit made immediately before this + * commit. + */ + public Commit(String message, Commit past) { + this.id = "" + currentCommitID++; + this.message = message; + this.timeStamp = System.currentTimeMillis(); + this.past = past; + } + + /** + * Constructs a commit object with no previous commit. The unique + * identifier and timestamp are automatically generated. + * @param message A message describing the changes made in this commit. + */ + public Commit(String message) { + this(message, null); + } + + /** + * Returns a string representation of this commit. The string + * representation consists of this commit's unique identifier, + * timestamp, and message, in the following form: + * "[identifier] at [timestamp]: [message]" + * @return The string representation of this collection. + */ + @Override + public String toString() { + SimpleDateFormat formatter = new SimpleDateFormat("yyyy-MM-dd 'at' HH:mm:ss z"); + Date date = new Date(timeStamp); + + return id + " at " + formatter.format(date) + ": " + message; + } + + /** + * Resets the IDs of the commit nodes such that they reset to 0. + * Primarily for testing purposes. + */ + public static void resetIds() { + Commit.currentCommitID = 0; + } + } +} diff --git a/p1/Testing.java b/p1/Testing.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f7ae88 --- /dev/null +++ b/p1/Testing.java @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ +import org.junit.jupiter.api.*; +import static org.junit.jupiter.api.Assertions.*; +import java.util.*; + +public class Testing { + private Repository repo1; + private Repository repo2; + + // Occurs before each of the individual test cases + // (creates new repos and resets commit ids) + @BeforeEach + public void setUp() { + repo1 = new Repository("repo1"); + repo2 = new Repository("repo2"); + Repository.Commit.resetIds(); + } + + // TODO: Write your tests here! + + ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// + // PROVIDED HELPER METHODS (You don't have to use these if you don't want to!) // + ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// + + // Commits all of the provided messages into the provided repo, making sure timestamps + // are correctly sequential (no ties). If used, make sure to include + // 'throws InterruptedException' + // much like we do with 'throws FileNotFoundException'. Example useage: + // + // repo1: + // head -> null + // To commit the messages "one", "two", "three", "four" + // commitAll(repo1, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // This results in the following after picture + // repo1: + // head -> "four" -> "three" -> "two" -> "one" -> null + // + // YOU DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS METHOD WORKS TO USE IT! (this is why documentation + // is important!) + public void commitAll(Repository repo, String[] messages) throws InterruptedException { + // Commit all of the provided messages + for (String message : messages) { + int size = repo.getRepoSize(); + repo.commit(message); + + // Make sure exactly one commit was added to the repo + assertEquals(size + 1, repo.getRepoSize(), + String.format("Size not correctly updated after commiting message [%s]", + message)); + + // Sleep to guarantee that all commits have different time stamps + Thread.sleep(2); + } + } + + // Makes sure the given repositories history is correct up to 'n' commits, checking against + // all commits made in order. Example useage: + // + // repo1: + // head -> "four" -> "three" -> "two" -> "one" -> null + // (Commits made in the order ["one", "two", "three", "four"]) + // To test the getHistory() method up to n=3 commits this can be done with: + // testHistory(repo1, 3, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // Similarly, to test getHistory() up to n=4 commits you'd use: + // testHistory(repo1, 4, new String[]{"one", "two", "three", "four"}) + // + // YOU DO NOT NEED TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS METHOD WORKS TO USE IT! (this is why documentation + // is important!) + public void testHistory(Repository repo, int n, String[] allCommits) { + int totalCommits = repo.getRepoSize(); + assertTrue(n <= totalCommits, + String.format("Provided n [%d] too big. Only [%d] commits", + n, totalCommits)); + + String[] nCommits = repo.getHistory(n).split("\n"); + + assertTrue(nCommits.length <= n, + String.format("getHistory(n) returned more than n [%d] commits", n)); + assertTrue(nCommits.length <= allCommits.length, + String.format("Not enough expected commits to check against. " + + "Expected at least [%d]. Actual [%d]", + n, allCommits.length)); + + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + String commit = nCommits[i]; + + // Old commit messages/ids are on the left and the more recent commit messages/ids are + // on the right so need to traverse from right to left + int backwardsIndex = totalCommits - 1 - i; + String commitMessage = allCommits[backwardsIndex]; + + assertTrue(commit.contains(commitMessage), + String.format("Commit [%s] doesn't contain expected message [%s]", + commit, commitMessage)); + assertTrue(commit.contains("" + backwardsIndex), + String.format("Commit [%s] doesn't contain expected id [%d]", + commit, backwardsIndex)); + } + } +} diff --git a/search-engine/Book.java b/search-engine/Book.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..330035f --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/Book.java @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +// Nik Johnson +// TA: Zachary Bi +// 4-2-2024 + +import java.util.*; +import java.text.DecimalFormat; + +// book object, which can have a title, authors, and a list of ratings +public class Book implements Media { + + private String title; + private String author; + private List authors; + private List ratings; + + public Book(String title, String author) { + this.title = title; + this.author = author; + } + + public Book(String title, List authors) { + this.title = title; + this.authors = authors; + } + + public String getTitle() { + return this.title; + } + + public List getArtists() { + List artists = new ArrayList<>(); + if (this.author != null) { + artists.add(this.author); + } + + if (this.authors != null) { + for (String author : authors) { + artists.add(author); + } + } + return artists; + } + + public void addRating(int score) { + if (this.ratings == null) { + ratings = new ArrayList<>(); + } + this.ratings.add(score); + } + + public int getNumRatings() { + + if (this.ratings == null) { + return 0; + } + + return this.ratings.size(); + } + + public double getAverageRating() { + if (this.ratings == null) { + return 0; + } + + int sum = 0; + for (int rating : ratings) { + sum += rating; + } + + return (double)sum / this.ratings.size(); + } + + public String toString() { + String output = ""; + + output += this.title + " by " + this.getArtists() + ": "; + + DecimalFormat df = new DecimalFormat("#." + "0".repeat(2)); + + if (ratings != null) { + output += df.format(this.getAverageRating()) + " (" + (this.ratings.size()) + " ratings" + ")"; + return output; + } + + return output + "No ratings yet!"; + } +} + diff --git a/search-engine/Media.java b/search-engine/Media.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee9614e --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/Media.java @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ +import java.util.*; + +/** + * An interface to represent various types of media (movies, books, tv shows, songs, etc.). + */ +public interface Media { + /** + * Gets the title of this media. + * + * @return The title of this media. + */ + public String getTitle(); + + /** + * Gets all artists associated with this media. + * + * @return A list of artists for this media. + */ + public List getArtists(); + + /** + * Adds a rating to this media. + * + * @param score The score for the new rating. Should be non-negative. + */ + public void addRating(int score); + + /** + * Gets the number of times this media has been rated. + * + * @return The number of ratings for this media. + */ + public int getNumRatings(); + + /** + * Gets the average (mean) of all ratings for this media. + * + * @return The average (mean) of all ratings for this media. If no ratings exist, returns 0. + */ + public double getAverageRating(); +} diff --git a/search-engine/SearchClient.java b/search-engine/SearchClient.java new file mode 100644 index 0000000..20dbe6d --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/SearchClient.java @@ -0,0 +1,213 @@ +import java.io.*; +import java.util.*; +// Name: Niklas Johnson +// Date: 4-2-2024 + +// This class allows users to find and rate books within BOOK_DIRECTORY +// containing certain terms. Also handles omitting items if the query is prefixed +// with a '-' +public class SearchClient { + public static final String BOOK_DIRECTORY = "./books"; + + public static void main(String[] args) throws FileNotFoundException { + Scanner console = new Scanner(System.in); + List books = loadBooks(); + List media = new ArrayList<>(books); + + Map> index = createIndex(media); + + System.out.println("Welcome to the CSE 123 Search Engine!"); + String command = ""; + while (!command.equalsIgnoreCase("quit")) { + System.out.println("What would you like to do? [Search, Rate, Quit]"); + System.out.print("> "); + command = console.nextLine(); + + if (command.equalsIgnoreCase("search")) { + searchQuery(console, index); + } else if (command.equalsIgnoreCase("rate")) { + addRating(console, media); + } else if (!command.equalsIgnoreCase("quit")) { + System.out.println("Invalid command, please try again."); + } + } + System.out.println("See you next time!"); + } + + // Produces and returns a "deep copy" of the parameter map, which has the same + // structure and values as the parameter, but with all internal data structures + // and values copied. After calling this method, modifying the parameter or + // return value should NOT affect the other. + // + // Parameters: + // inputMap - the map to duplicate + // + // Returns: + // A deep copy of the parameter map. + // TODO: Copy fixed version and update to use Media + public static Map> deepCopy(Map> inputMap) { + Map> deepCopy = new TreeMap<>(); + + for (String key : inputMap.keySet()) { + Set inputSet = new HashSet<>(inputMap.get(key)); + deepCopy.put(key, inputSet); + } + return deepCopy; + } + // creates a directory of words that appear in a given list of Strings + // takes a list of strings to process + // returns sorted map containing the index + // no thrown exceptions + public static Map> createIndex(List media) throws FileNotFoundException { + Map> index = new TreeMap<>(); + Set uniqueWords = getUniqueWords(media); + + for (String uniqueWord : uniqueWords) { + index.put(uniqueWord.toLowerCase(), new HashSet()); + } + + for (String word : index.keySet()) { + for (int i = 0; i < media.size(); i++) { + Scanner titleScanner = new Scanner(media.get(i).getTitle()); + while (titleScanner.hasNext()) { + if (titleScanner.next().equalsIgnoreCase(word)) { + index.get(word).add(media.get(i)); + } + } + titleScanner.close(); + + for (String artists : media.get(i).getArtists()) { + Scanner artistScanner = new Scanner(artists); + while (artistScanner.hasNext()) { + if (artistScanner.next().equalsIgnoreCase(word)) { + index.get(word).add(media.get(i)); + } + } + artistScanner.close(); + } + + + } + } + return index; + } + + // helper method for createIndex. looks through given list of strings, + // keeping track of only unique words + // takes list of words to prune + // returns pruned set of words + // no thrown exceptions + public static Set getUniqueWords(List media) throws FileNotFoundException { + Set uniqueWords = new HashSet<>(); + for (Media thing : media) { + Scanner mediaScanner = new Scanner(new File(BOOK_DIRECTORY + "/" + thing.getTitle() + ".txt")); + while (mediaScanner.hasNext()) { + uniqueWords.add(mediaScanner.next()); + } + mediaScanner.close(); + } + return uniqueWords; + } + + // Allows the user to search a specific query using the provided 'index' to find appropraite + // Media entries. + // + // Parameters: + // console - the Scanner to get user input from + // index - invertedIndex mapping terms to the Set of media containing those terms + public static void searchQuery(Scanner console, Map> index) { + System.out.println("Enter query:"); + System.out.print("> "); + String query = console.nextLine(); + Optional> result = search(deepCopy(index), query); + + if (result.isEmpty()) { + System.out.println("\tNo results!"); + } else { + for (Media m : result.get()) { + System.out.println("\t" + m.toString()); + } + } + } + + // Allows the user to add a rating to one of the options wthin 'media' + // + // Parameters: + // console - the Scanner to get user input from + // media - list of all media options loaded into the search engine + public static void addRating(Scanner console, List media) { + System.out.print("[" + media.get(0).getTitle()); + for (int i = 1; i < media.size(); i++) { + System.out.print(", " + media.get(i).getTitle()); + } + System.out.println("]"); + System.out.println("What would you like to rate (enter index)?"); + System.out.print("> "); + int choice = Integer.parseInt(console.nextLine()); + if (choice < 0 || choice >= media.size()) { + System.out.println("Invalid choice"); + } else { + System.out.println("Rating [" + media.get(choice).getTitle() + "]"); + System.out.println("What rating would you give?"); + System.out.print("> "); + int rating = Integer.parseInt(console.nextLine()); + media.get(choice).addRating(rating); + } + } + + // Searches a specific query using the provided 'index' to find appropraite Media entries. + // terms are determined by whitespace separation. If a term is proceeded by '-' any entry + // containing that term will be removed from the result. + // + // Parameters: + // index - invertedIndex mapping terms to the Set of media containing those terms + // query - user's entered query string to use in searching + // + // Returns: + // An optional set of all Media containing the requirested terms. If none, Optional.Empty() + public static Optional> search(Map> index, String query) { + Optional> ret = Optional.empty(); + + Scanner tokens = new Scanner(query); + while (tokens.hasNext()) { + boolean minus = false; + String token = tokens.next().toLowerCase(); + if (token.startsWith("-")) { + minus = true; + token = token.substring(1); + } + + if (index.containsKey(token)) { + if (ret.isEmpty() && !minus) { + ret = Optional.of(index.get(token)); + } else if (!ret.isEmpty() && minus) { + ret.get().removeAll(index.get(token)); + } else if (!ret.isEmpty() && !minus) { + ret.get().retainAll(index.get(token)); + } + } + } + return ret; + } + + // Loads all books from BOOK_DIRECTORY. Assumes that each book starts with two lines - + // "Title: " which is followed by the book's title + // "Author: " which is followed by the book's author + // + // Returns: + // A list of all book objects corresponding to the ones located in BOOK_DIRECTORY + public static List loadBooks() throws FileNotFoundException { + List ret = new ArrayList<>(); + + File dir = new File(BOOK_DIRECTORY); + for (File f : dir.listFiles()) { + Scanner sc = new Scanner(f); + String title = sc.nextLine().substring("Title: ".length()); + String author = sc.nextLine().substring("Author: ".length()); + + ret.add(new Book(title, author)); + } + + return ret; + } +} diff --git a/search-engine/X5j9Zv1uw5KI5rEyO4djmOx4 b/search-engine/X5j9Zv1uw5KI5rEyO4djmOx4 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53a6f69 Binary files /dev/null and b/search-engine/X5j9Zv1uw5KI5rEyO4djmOx4 differ diff --git a/search-engine/books/A Doll's House : a play.txt b/search-engine/books/A Doll's House : a play.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..679e8b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/A Doll's House : a play.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5168 @@ +Title: A Doll's House : a play +Author: Henrik Ibsen + +A Doll’s House + +by Henrik Ibsen + + +Contents + + ACT I. + ACT II. + ACT III. + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +Torvald Helmer. +Nora, his wife. +Doctor Rank. +Mrs Linde. +Nils Krogstad. +Helmer’s three young children. +Anne, their nurse. +A Housemaid. +A Porter. + +_[The action takes place in Helmer’s house.]_ + + + + +A DOLL’S HOUSE + + + + +ACT I + + +_[SCENE.—A room furnished comfortably and tastefully, but not +extravagantly. At the back, a door to the right leads to the +entrance-hall, another to the left leads to Helmer’s study. Between the +doors stands a piano. In the middle of the left-hand wall is a door, +and beyond it a window. Near the window are a round table, arm-chairs +and a small sofa. In the right-hand wall, at the farther end, another +door; and on the same side, nearer the footlights, a stove, two easy +chairs and a rocking-chair; between the stove and the door, a small +table. Engravings on the walls; a cabinet with china and other small +objects; a small book-case with well-bound books. The floors are +carpeted, and a fire burns in the stove. It is winter._ + +_A bell rings in the hall; shortly afterwards the door is heard to +open. Enter NORA, humming a tune and in high spirits. She is in outdoor +dress and carries a number of parcels; these she lays on the table to +the right. She leaves the outer door open after her, and through it is +seen a PORTER who is carrying a Christmas Tree and a basket, which he +gives to the MAID who has opened the door.]_ + +NORA. +Hide the Christmas Tree carefully, Helen. Be sure the children do not +see it until this evening, when it is dressed. _[To the PORTER, taking +out her purse.]_ How much? + +PORTER. +Sixpence. + +NORA. +There is a shilling. No, keep the change. _[The PORTER thanks her, and +goes out. NORA shuts the door. She is laughing to herself, as she takes +off her hat and coat. She takes a packet of macaroons from her pocket +and eats one or two; then goes cautiously to her husband’s door and +listens.]_ Yes, he is in. _[Still humming, she goes to the table on the +right.]_ + +HELMER. +_[calls out from his room]_. Is that my little lark twittering out +there? + +NORA. +_[busy opening some of the parcels]_. Yes, it is! + +HELMER. +Is it my little squirrel bustling about? + +NORA. +Yes! + +HELMER. +When did my squirrel come home? + +NORA. +Just now. _[Puts the bag of macaroons into her pocket and wipes her +mouth.]_ Come in here, Torvald, and see what I have bought. + +HELMER. +Don’t disturb me. _[A little later, he opens the door and looks into +the room, pen in hand.]_ Bought, did you say? All these things? Has my +little spendthrift been wasting money again? + +NORA. +Yes but, Torvald, this year we really can let ourselves go a little. +This is the first Christmas that we have not needed to economise. + +HELMER. +Still, you know, we can’t spend money recklessly. + +NORA. +Yes, Torvald, we may be a wee bit more reckless now, mayn’t we? Just a +tiny wee bit! You are going to have a big salary and earn lots and lots +of money. + +HELMER. +Yes, after the New Year; but then it will be a whole quarter before the +salary is due. + +NORA. +Pooh! we can borrow until then. + +HELMER. +Nora! _[Goes up to her and takes her playfully by the ear.]_ The same +little featherhead! Suppose, now, that I borrowed fifty pounds today, +and you spent it all in the Christmas week, and then on New Year’s Eve +a slate fell on my head and killed me, and— + +NORA. +_[putting her hands over his mouth]_. Oh! don’t say such horrid things. + +HELMER. +Still, suppose that happened,—what then? + +NORA. +If that were to happen, I don’t suppose I should care whether I owed +money or not. + +HELMER. +Yes, but what about the people who had lent it? + +NORA. +They? Who would bother about them? I should not know who they were. + +HELMER. +That is like a woman! But seriously, Nora, you know what I think about +that. No debt, no borrowing. There can be no freedom or beauty about a +home life that depends on borrowing and debt. We two have kept bravely +on the straight road so far, and we will go on the same way for the +short time longer that there need be any struggle. + +NORA. +_[moving towards the stove]_. As you please, Torvald. + +HELMER. +_[following her]_. Come, come, my little skylark must not droop her +wings. What is this! Is my little squirrel out of temper? _[Taking out +his purse.]_ Nora, what do you think I have got here? + +NORA. +_[turning round quickly]_. Money! + +HELMER. +There you are. _[Gives her some money.]_ Do you think I don’t know what +a lot is wanted for housekeeping at Christmas-time? + +NORA. +_[counting]_. Ten shillings—a pound—two pounds! Thank you, thank you, +Torvald; that will keep me going for a long time. + +HELMER. +Indeed it must. + +NORA. +Yes, yes, it will. But come here and let me show you what I have +bought. And all so cheap! Look, here is a new suit for Ivar, and a +sword; and a horse and a trumpet for Bob; and a doll and dolly’s +bedstead for Emmy,—they are very plain, but anyway she will soon break +them in pieces. And here are dress-lengths and handkerchiefs for the +maids; old Anne ought really to have something better. + +HELMER. +And what is in this parcel? + +NORA. +_[crying out]_. No, no! you mustn’t see that until this evening. + +HELMER. +Very well. But now tell me, you extravagant little person, what would +you like for yourself? + +NORA. +For myself? Oh, I am sure I don’t want anything. + +HELMER. +Yes, but you must. Tell me something reasonable that you would +particularly like to have. + +NORA. +No, I really can’t think of anything—unless, Torvald— + +HELMER. +Well? + +NORA. +_[playing with his coat buttons, and without raising her eyes to his]_. +If you really want to give me something, you might—you might— + +HELMER. +Well, out with it! + +NORA. +_[speaking quickly]_. You might give me money, Torvald. Only just as +much as you can afford; and then one of these days I will buy something +with it. + +HELMER. +But, Nora— + +NORA. +Oh, do! dear Torvald; please, please do! Then I will wrap it up in +beautiful gilt paper and hang it on the Christmas Tree. Wouldn’t that +be fun? + +HELMER. +What are little people called that are always wasting money? + +NORA. +Spendthrifts—I know. Let us do as you suggest, Torvald, and then I +shall have time to think what I am most in want of. That is a very +sensible plan, isn’t it? + +HELMER. +_[smiling]_. Indeed it is—that is to say, if you were really to save +out of the money I give you, and then really buy something for +yourself. But if you spend it all on the housekeeping and any number of +unnecessary things, then I merely have to pay up again. + +NORA. +Oh but, Torvald— + +HELMER. +You can’t deny it, my dear little Nora. _[Puts his arm round her +waist.]_ It’s a sweet little spendthrift, but she uses up a deal of +money. One would hardly believe how expensive such little persons are! + +NORA. +It’s a shame to say that. I do really save all I can. + +HELMER. +_[laughing]_. That’s very true,—all you can. But you can’t save +anything! + +NORA. +_[smiling quietly and happily]_. You haven’t any idea how many expenses +we skylarks and squirrels have, Torvald. + +HELMER. +You are an odd little soul. Very like your father. You always find some +new way of wheedling money out of me, and, as soon as you have got it, +it seems to melt in your hands. You never know where it has gone. +Still, one must take you as you are. It is in the blood; for indeed it +is true that you can inherit these things, Nora. + +NORA. +Ah, I wish I had inherited many of papa’s qualities. + +HELMER. +And I would not wish you to be anything but just what you are, my sweet +little skylark. But, do you know, it strikes me that you are looking +rather—what shall I say—rather uneasy today? + +NORA. +Do I? + +HELMER. +You do, really. Look straight at me. + +NORA. +_[looks at him]_. Well? + +HELMER. +_[wagging his finger at her]_. Hasn’t Miss Sweet Tooth been breaking +rules in town today? + +NORA. +No; what makes you think that? + +HELMER. +Hasn’t she paid a visit to the confectioner’s? + +NORA. +No, I assure you, Torvald— + +HELMER. +Not been nibbling sweets? + +NORA. +No, certainly not. + +HELMER. +Not even taken a bite at a macaroon or two? + +NORA. +No, Torvald, I assure you really— + +HELMER. +There, there, of course I was only joking. + +NORA. +_[going to the table on the right]_. I should not think of going +against your wishes. + +HELMER. +No, I am sure of that; besides, you gave me your word— _[Going up to +her.]_ Keep your little Christmas secrets to yourself, my darling. They +will all be revealed tonight when the Christmas Tree is lit, no doubt. + +NORA. +Did you remember to invite Doctor Rank? + +HELMER. +No. But there is no need; as a matter of course he will come to dinner +with us. However, I will ask him when he comes in this morning. I have +ordered some good wine. Nora, you can’t think how I am looking forward +to this evening. + +NORA. +So am I! And how the children will enjoy themselves, Torvald! + +HELMER. +It is splendid to feel that one has a perfectly safe appointment, and a +big enough income. It’s delightful to think of, isn’t it? + +NORA. +It’s wonderful! + +HELMER. +Do you remember last Christmas? For a full three weeks beforehand you +shut yourself up every evening until long after midnight, making +ornaments for the Christmas Tree, and all the other fine things that +were to be a surprise to us. It was the dullest three weeks I ever +spent! + +NORA. +I didn’t find it dull. + +HELMER. +_[smiling]_. But there was precious little result, Nora. + +NORA. +Oh, you shouldn’t tease me about that again. How could I help the cat’s +going in and tearing everything to pieces? + +HELMER. +Of course you couldn’t, poor little girl. You had the best of +intentions to please us all, and that’s the main thing. But it is a +good thing that our hard times are over. + +NORA. +Yes, it is really wonderful. + +HELMER. +This time I needn’t sit here and be dull all alone, and you needn’t +ruin your dear eyes and your pretty little hands— + +NORA. +_[clapping her hands]_. No, Torvald, I needn’t any longer, need I! It’s +wonderfully lovely to hear you say so! _[Taking his arm.]_ Now I will +tell you how I have been thinking we ought to arrange things, Torvald. +As soon as Christmas is over—_[A bell rings in the hall.]_ There’s the +bell. _[She tidies the room a little.]_ There’s some one at the door. +What a nuisance! + +HELMER. +If it is a caller, remember I am not at home. + +MAID. +_[in the doorway]_. A lady to see you, ma’am,—a stranger. + +NORA. +Ask her to come in. + +MAID. +_[to HELMER]_. The doctor came at the same time, sir. + +HELMER. +Did he go straight into my room? + +MAID. +Yes, sir. + +_[HELMER goes into his room. The MAID ushers in Mrs Linde, who is in +travelling dress, and shuts the door.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +_[in a dejected and timid voice]_. How do you do, Nora? + +NORA. +_[doubtfully]_. How do you do— + +MRS LINDE. +You don’t recognise me, I suppose. + +NORA. +No, I don’t know—yes, to be sure, I seem to—_[Suddenly.]_ Yes! +Christine! Is it really you? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, it is I. + +NORA. +Christine! To think of my not recognising you! And yet how could I—_[In +a gentle voice.]_ How you have altered, Christine! + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, I have indeed. In nine, ten long years— + +NORA. +Is it so long since we met? I suppose it is. The last eight years have +been a happy time for me, I can tell you. And so now you have come into +the town, and have taken this long journey in winter—that was plucky of +you. + +MRS LINDE. +I arrived by steamer this morning. + +NORA. +To have some fun at Christmas-time, of course. How delightful! We will +have such fun together! But take off your things. You are not cold, I +hope. _[Helps her.]_ Now we will sit down by the stove, and be cosy. +No, take this armchair; I will sit here in the rocking-chair. _[Takes +her hands.]_ Now you look like your old self again; it was only the +first moment—You are a little paler, Christine, and perhaps a little +thinner. + +MRS LINDE. +And much, much older, Nora. + +NORA. +Perhaps a little older; very, very little; certainly not much. _[Stops +suddenly and speaks seriously.]_ What a thoughtless creature I am, +chattering away like this. My poor, dear Christine, do forgive me. + +MRS LINDE. +What do you mean, Nora? + +NORA. +_[gently]_. Poor Christine, you are a widow. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes; it is three years ago now. + +NORA. +Yes, I knew; I saw it in the papers. I assure you, Christine, I meant +ever so often to write to you at the time, but I always put it off and +something always prevented me. + +MRS LINDE. +I quite understand, dear. + +NORA. +It was very bad of me, Christine. Poor thing, how you must have +suffered. And he left you nothing? + +MRS LINDE. +No. + +NORA. +And no children? + +MRS LINDE. +No. + +NORA. +Nothing at all, then. + +MRS LINDE. +Not even any sorrow or grief to live upon. + +NORA. +_[looking incredulously at her]_. But, Christine, is that possible? + +MRS LINDE. +_[smiles sadly and strokes her hair]_. It sometimes happens, Nora. + +NORA. +So you are quite alone. How dreadfully sad that must be. I have three +lovely children. You can’t see them just now, for they are out with +their nurse. But now you must tell me all about it. + +MRS LINDE. +No, no; I want to hear about you. + +NORA. +No, you must begin. I mustn’t be selfish today; today I must only think +of your affairs. But there is one thing I must tell you. Do you know we +have just had a great piece of good luck? + +MRS LINDE. +No, what is it? + +NORA. +Just fancy, my husband has been made manager of the Bank! + +MRS LINDE. +Your husband? What good luck! + +NORA. +Yes, tremendous! A barrister’s profession is such an uncertain thing, +especially if he won’t undertake unsavoury cases; and naturally Torvald +has never been willing to do that, and I quite agree with him. You may +imagine how pleased we are! He is to take up his work in the Bank at +the New Year, and then he will have a big salary and lots of +commissions. For the future we can live quite differently—we can do +just as we like. I feel so relieved and so happy, Christine! It will be +splendid to have heaps of money and not need to have any anxiety, won’t +it? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, anyhow I think it would be delightful to have what one needs. + +NORA. +No, not only what one needs, but heaps and heaps of money. + +MRS LINDE. +_[smiling]_. Nora, Nora, haven’t you learned sense yet? In our +schooldays you were a great spendthrift. + +NORA. +_[laughing]_. Yes, that is what Torvald says now. _[Wags her finger at +her.]_ But “Nora, Nora” is not so silly as you think. We have not been +in a position for me to waste money. We have both had to work. + +MRS LINDE. +You too? + +NORA. +Yes; odds and ends, needlework, crotchet-work, embroidery, and that +kind of thing. _[Dropping her voice.]_ And other things as well. You +know Torvald left his office when we were married? There was no +prospect of promotion there, and he had to try and earn more than +before. But during the first year he over-worked himself dreadfully. +You see, he had to make money every way he could, and he worked early +and late; but he couldn’t stand it, and fell dreadfully ill, and the +doctors said it was necessary for him to go south. + +MRS LINDE. +You spent a whole year in Italy, didn’t you? + +NORA. +Yes. It was no easy matter to get away, I can tell you. It was just +after Ivar was born; but naturally we had to go. It was a wonderfully +beautiful journey, and it saved Torvald’s life. But it cost a +tremendous lot of money, Christine. + +MRS LINDE. +So I should think. + +NORA. +It cost about two hundred and fifty pounds. That’s a lot, isn’t it? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, and in emergencies like that it is lucky to have the money. + +NORA. +I ought to tell you that we had it from papa. + +MRS LINDE. +Oh, I see. It was just about that time that he died, wasn’t it? + +NORA. +Yes; and, just think of it, I couldn’t go and nurse him. I was +expecting little Ivar’s birth every day and I had my poor sick Torvald +to look after. My dear, kind father—I never saw him again, Christine. +That was the saddest time I have known since our marriage. + +MRS LINDE. +I know how fond you were of him. And then you went off to Italy? + +NORA. +Yes; you see we had money then, and the doctors insisted on our going, +so we started a month later. + +MRS LINDE. +And your husband came back quite well? + +NORA. +As sound as a bell! + +MRS LINDE. +But—the doctor? + +NORA. +What doctor? + +MRS LINDE. +I thought your maid said the gentleman who arrived here just as I did, +was the doctor? + +NORA. +Yes, that was Doctor Rank, but he doesn’t come here professionally. He +is our greatest friend, and comes in at least once every day. No, +Torvald has not had an hour’s illness since then, and our children are +strong and healthy and so am I. _[Jumps up and claps her hands.]_ +Christine! Christine! it’s good to be alive and happy!—But how horrid +of me; I am talking of nothing but my own affairs. _[Sits on a stool +near her, and rests her arms on her knees.]_ You mustn’t be angry with +me. Tell me, is it really true that you did not love your husband? Why +did you marry him? + +MRS LINDE. +My mother was alive then, and was bedridden and helpless, and I had to +provide for my two younger brothers; so I did not think I was justified +in refusing his offer. + +NORA. +No, perhaps you were quite right. He was rich at that time, then? + +MRS LINDE. +I believe he was quite well off. But his business was a precarious one; +and, when he died, it all went to pieces and there was nothing left. + +NORA. +And then?— + +MRS LINDE. +Well, I had to turn my hand to anything I could find—first a small +shop, then a small school, and so on. The last three years have seemed +like one long working-day, with no rest. Now it is at an end, Nora. My +poor mother needs me no more, for she is gone; and the boys do not need +me either; they have got situations and can shift for themselves. + +NORA. +What a relief you must feel if— + +MRS LINDE. +No, indeed; I only feel my life unspeakably empty. No one to live for +anymore. _[Gets up restlessly.]_ That was why I could not stand the +life in my little backwater any longer. I hope it may be easier here to +find something which will busy me and occupy my thoughts. If only I +could have the good luck to get some regular work—office work of some +kind— + +NORA. +But, Christine, that is so frightfully tiring, and you look tired out +now. You had far better go away to some watering-place. + +MRS LINDE. +_[walking to the window]_. I have no father to give me money for a +journey, Nora. + +NORA. +_[rising]_. Oh, don’t be angry with me! + +MRS LINDE. +_[going up to her]_. It is you that must not be angry with me, dear. +The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so bitter. No +one to work for, and yet obliged to be always on the lookout for +chances. One must live, and so one becomes selfish. When you told me of +the happy turn your fortunes have taken—you will hardly believe it—I +was delighted not so much on your account as on my own. + +NORA. +How do you mean?—Oh, I understand. You mean that perhaps Torvald could +get you something to do. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, that was what I was thinking of. + +NORA. +He must, Christine. Just leave it to me; I will broach the subject very +cleverly—I will think of something that will please him very much. It +will make me so happy to be of some use to you. + +MRS LINDE. +How kind you are, Nora, to be so anxious to help me! It is doubly kind +in you, for you know so little of the burdens and troubles of life. + +NORA. +I—? I know so little of them? + +MRS LINDE. +_[smiling]_. My dear! Small household cares and that sort of thing!—You +are a child, Nora. + +NORA. +_[tosses her head and crosses the stage]_. You ought not to be so +superior. + +MRS LINDE. +No? + +NORA. +You are just like the others. They all think that I am incapable of +anything really serious— + +MRS LINDE. +Come, come— + +NORA. +—that I have gone through nothing in this world of cares. + +MRS LINDE. +But, my dear Nora, you have just told me all your troubles. + +NORA. +Pooh!—those were trifles. _[Lowering her voice.]_ I have not told you +the important thing. + +MRS LINDE. +The important thing? What do you mean? + +NORA. +You look down upon me altogether, Christine—but you ought not to. You +are proud, aren’t you, of having worked so hard and so long for your +mother? + +MRS LINDE. +Indeed, I don’t look down on anyone. But it is true that I am both +proud and glad to think that I was privileged to make the end of my +mother’s life almost free from care. + +NORA. +And you are proud to think of what you have done for your brothers? + +MRS LINDE. +I think I have the right to be. + +NORA. +I think so, too. But now, listen to this; I too have something to be +proud and glad of. + +MRS LINDE. +I have no doubt you have. But what do you refer to? + +NORA. +Speak low. Suppose Torvald were to hear! He mustn’t on any account—no +one in the world must know, Christine, except you. + +MRS LINDE. +But what is it? + +NORA. +Come here. _[Pulls her down on the sofa beside her.]_ Now I will show +you that I too have something to be proud and glad of. It was I who +saved Torvald’s life. + +MRS LINDE. +“Saved”? How? + +NORA. +I told you about our trip to Italy. Torvald would never have recovered +if he had not gone there— + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, but your father gave you the necessary funds. + +NORA. +_[smiling]_. Yes, that is what Torvald and all the others think, but— + +MRS LINDE. +But— + +NORA. +Papa didn’t give us a shilling. It was I who procured the money. + +MRS LINDE. +You? All that large sum? + +NORA. +Two hundred and fifty pounds. What do you think of that? + +MRS LINDE. +But, Nora, how could you possibly do it? Did you win a prize in the +Lottery? + +NORA. +_[contemptuously]_. In the Lottery? There would have been no credit in +that. + +MRS LINDE. +But where did you get it from, then? Nora _[humming and smiling with an +air of mystery]_. Hm, hm! Aha! + +MRS LINDE. +Because you couldn’t have borrowed it. + +NORA. +Couldn’t I? Why not? + +MRS LINDE. +No, a wife cannot borrow without her husband’s consent. + +NORA. +_[tossing her head]_. Oh, if it is a wife who has any head for +business—a wife who has the wit to be a little bit clever— + +MRS LINDE. +I don’t understand it at all, Nora. + +NORA. +There is no need you should. I never said I had borrowed the money. I +may have got it some other way. _[Lies back on the sofa.]_ Perhaps I +got it from some other admirer. When anyone is as attractive as I am— + +MRS LINDE. +You are a mad creature. + +NORA. +Now, you know you’re full of curiosity, Christine. + +MRS LINDE. +Listen to me, Nora dear. Haven’t you been a little bit imprudent? + +NORA. +_[sits up straight]_. Is it imprudent to save your husband’s life? + +MRS LINDE. +It seems to me imprudent, without his knowledge, to— + +NORA. +But it was absolutely necessary that he should not know! My goodness, +can’t you understand that? It was necessary he should have no idea what +a dangerous condition he was in. It was to me that the doctors came and +said that his life was in danger, and that the only thing to save him +was to live in the south. Do you suppose I didn’t try, first of all, to +get what I wanted as if it were for myself? I told him how much I +should love to travel abroad like other young wives; I tried tears and +entreaties with him; I told him that he ought to remember the condition +I was in, and that he ought to be kind and indulgent to me; I even +hinted that he might raise a loan. That nearly made him angry, +Christine. He said I was thoughtless, and that it was his duty as my +husband not to indulge me in my whims and caprices—as I believe he +called them. Very well, I thought, you must be saved—and that was how I +came to devise a way out of the difficulty— + +MRS LINDE. +And did your husband never get to know from your father that the money +had not come from him? + +NORA. +No, never. Papa died just at that time. I had meant to let him into the +secret and beg him never to reveal it. But he was so ill then—alas, +there never was any need to tell him. + +MRS LINDE. +And since then have you never told your secret to your husband? + +NORA. +Good Heavens, no! How could you think so? A man who has such strong +opinions about these things! And besides, how painful and humiliating +it would be for Torvald, with his manly independence, to know that he +owed me anything! It would upset our mutual relations altogether; our +beautiful happy home would no longer be what it is now. + +MRS LINDE. +Do you mean never to tell him about it? + +NORA. +_[meditatively, and with a half smile]_. Yes—someday, perhaps, after +many years, when I am no longer as nice-looking as I am now. Don’t +laugh at me! I mean, of course, when Torvald is no longer as devoted to +me as he is now; when my dancing and dressing-up and reciting have +palled on him; then it may be a good thing to have something in +reserve—_[Breaking off.]_ What nonsense! That time will never come. +Now, what do you think of my great secret, Christine? Do you still +think I am of no use? I can tell you, too, that this affair has caused +me a lot of worry. It has been by no means easy for me to meet my +engagements punctually. I may tell you that there is something that is +called, in business, quarterly interest, and another thing called +payment in installments, and it is always so dreadfully difficult to +manage them. I have had to save a little here and there, where I could, +you understand. I have not been able to put aside much from my +housekeeping money, for Torvald must have a good table. I couldn’t let +my children be shabbily dressed; I have felt obliged to use up all he +gave me for them, the sweet little darlings! + +MRS LINDE. +So it has all had to come out of your own necessaries of life, poor +Nora? + +NORA. +Of course. Besides, I was the one responsible for it. Whenever Torvald +has given me money for new dresses and such things, I have never spent +more than half of it; I have always bought the simplest and cheapest +things. Thank Heaven, any clothes look well on me, and so Torvald has +never noticed it. But it was often very hard on me, Christine—because +it is delightful to be really well dressed, isn’t it? + +MRS LINDE. +Quite so. + +NORA. +Well, then I have found other ways of earning money. Last winter I was +lucky enough to get a lot of copying to do; so I locked myself up and +sat writing every evening until quite late at night. Many a time I was +desperately tired; but all the same it was a tremendous pleasure to sit +there working and earning money. It was like being a man. + +MRS LINDE. +How much have you been able to pay off in that way? + +NORA. +I can’t tell you exactly. You see, it is very difficult to keep an +account of a business matter of that kind. I only know that I have paid +every penny that I could scrape together. Many a time I was at my wits’ +end. _[Smiles.]_ Then I used to sit here and imagine that a rich old +gentleman had fallen in love with me— + +MRS LINDE. +What! Who was it? + +NORA. +Be quiet!—that he had died; and that when his will was opened it +contained, written in big letters, the instruction: “The lovely Mrs +Nora Helmer is to have all I possess paid over to her at once in cash.” + +MRS LINDE. +But, my dear Nora—who could the man be? + +NORA. +Good gracious, can’t you understand? There was no old gentleman at all; +it was only something that I used to sit here and imagine, when I +couldn’t think of any way of procuring money. But it’s all the same +now; the tiresome old person can stay where he is, as far as I am +concerned; I don’t care about him or his will either, for I am free +from care now. _[Jumps up.]_ My goodness, it’s delightful to think of, +Christine! Free from care! To be able to be free from care, quite free +from care; to be able to play and romp with the children; to be able to +keep the house beautifully and have everything just as Torvald likes +it! And, think of it, soon the spring will come and the big blue sky! +Perhaps we shall be able to take a little trip—perhaps I shall see the +sea again! Oh, it’s a wonderful thing to be alive and be happy. _[A +bell is heard in the hall.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +_[rising]_. There is the bell; perhaps I had better go. + +NORA. +No, don’t go; no one will come in here; it is sure to be for Torvald. + +SERVANT. +_[at the hall door]_. Excuse me, ma’am—there is a gentleman to see the +master, and as the doctor is with him— + +NORA. +Who is it? + +KROGSTAD. +_[at the door]_. It is I, Mrs Helmer. _[Mrs LINDE starts, trembles, and +turns to the window.]_ + +NORA. +_[takes a step towards him, and speaks in a strained, low voice]_. You? +What is it? What do you want to see my husband about? + +KROGSTAD. +Bank business—in a way. I have a small post in the Bank, and I hear +your husband is to be our chief now— + +NORA. +Then it is— + +KROGSTAD. +Nothing but dry business matters, Mrs Helmer; absolutely nothing else. + +NORA. +Be so good as to go into the study, then. _[She bows indifferently to +him and shuts the door into the hall; then comes back and makes up the +fire in the stove.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +Nora—who was that man? + +NORA. +A lawyer, of the name of Krogstad. + +MRS LINDE. +Then it really was he. + +NORA. +Do you know the man? + +MRS LINDE. +I used to—many years ago. At one time he was a solicitor’s clerk in our +town. + +NORA. +Yes, he was. + +MRS LINDE. +He is greatly altered. + +NORA. +He made a very unhappy marriage. + +MRS LINDE. +He is a widower now, isn’t he? + +NORA. +With several children. There now, it is burning up. [Shuts the door of +the stove and moves the rocking-chair aside.] + +MRS LINDE. +They say he carries on various kinds of business. + +NORA. +Really! Perhaps he does; I don’t know anything about it. But don’t let +us think of business; it is so tiresome. + +DOCTOR RANK. +_[comes out of HELMER’S study. Before he shuts the door he calls to +him]_. No, my dear fellow, I won’t disturb you; I would rather go in to +your wife for a little while. _[Shuts the door and sees Mrs LINDE.]_ I +beg your pardon; I am afraid I am disturbing you too. + +NORA. +No, not at all. _[Introducing him]_. Doctor Rank, Mrs Linde. + +RANK. +I have often heard Mrs Linde’s name mentioned here. I think I passed +you on the stairs when I arrived, Mrs Linde? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, I go up very slowly; I can’t manage stairs well. + +RANK. +Ah! some slight internal weakness? + +MRS LINDE. +No, the fact is I have been overworking myself. + +RANK. +Nothing more than that? Then I suppose you have come to town to amuse +yourself with our entertainments? + +MRS LINDE. +I have come to look for work. + +RANK. +Is that a good cure for overwork? + +MRS LINDE. +One must live, Doctor Rank. + +RANK. +Yes, the general opinion seems to be that it is necessary. + +NORA. +Look here, Doctor Rank—you know you want to live. + +RANK. +Certainly. However wretched I may feel, I want to prolong the agony as +long as possible. All my patients are like that. And so are those who +are morally diseased; one of them, and a bad case too, is at this very +moment with Helmer— + +MRS LINDE. +_[sadly]_. Ah! + +NORA. +Whom do you mean? + +RANK. +A lawyer of the name of Krogstad, a fellow you don’t know at all. He +suffers from a diseased moral character, Mrs Helmer; but even he began +talking of its being highly important that he should live. + +NORA. +Did he? What did he want to speak to Torvald about? + +RANK. +I have no idea; I only heard that it was something about the Bank. + +NORA. +I didn’t know this—what’s his name—Krogstad had anything to do with the +Bank. + +RANK. +Yes, he has some sort of appointment there. _[To Mrs Linde.]_ I don’t +know whether you find also in your part of the world that there are +certain people who go zealously snuffing about to smell out moral +corruption, and, as soon as they have found some, put the person +concerned into some lucrative position where they can keep their eye on +him. Healthy natures are left out in the cold. + +MRS LINDE. +Still I think the sick are those who most need taking care of. + +RANK. +_[shrugging his shoulders]_. Yes, there you are. That is the sentiment +that is turning Society into a sick-house. + +_[NORA, who has been absorbed in her thoughts, breaks out into +smothered laughter and claps her hands.]_ + +RANK. +Why do you laugh at that? Have you any notion what Society really is? + +NORA. +What do I care about tiresome Society? I am laughing at something quite +different, something extremely amusing. Tell me, Doctor Rank, are all +the people who are employed in the Bank dependent on Torvald now? + +RANK. +Is that what you find so extremely amusing? + +NORA. +_[smiling and humming]_. That’s my affair! _[Walking about the room.]_ +It’s perfectly glorious to think that we have—that Torvald has so much +power over so many people. _[Takes the packet from her pocket.]_ Doctor +Rank, what do you say to a macaroon? + +RANK. +What, macaroons? I thought they were forbidden here. + +NORA. +Yes, but these are some Christine gave me. + +MRS LINDE. +What! I?— + +NORA. +Oh, well, don’t be alarmed! You couldn’t know that Torvald had +forbidden them. I must tell you that he is afraid they will spoil my +teeth. But, bah!—once in a way—That’s so, isn’t it, Doctor Rank? By +your leave! _[Puts a macaroon into his mouth.]_ You must have one too, +Christine. And I shall have one, just a little one—or at most two. +_[Walking about.]_ I am tremendously happy. There is just one thing in +the world now that I should dearly love to do. + +RANK. +Well, what is that? + +NORA. +It’s something I should dearly love to say, if Torvald could hear me. + +RANK. +Well, why can’t you say it? + +NORA. +No, I daren’t; it’s so shocking. + +MRS LINDE. +Shocking? + +RANK. +Well, I should not advise you to say it. Still, with us you might. What +is it you would so much like to say if Torvald could hear you? + +NORA. +I should just love to say—Well, I’m damned! + +RANK. +Are you mad? + +MRS LINDE. +Nora, dear—! + +RANK. +Say it, here he is! + +NORA. +_[hiding the packet]_. Hush! Hush! Hush! _[HELMER comes out of his +room, with his coat over his arm and his hat in his hand.]_ + +NORA. +Well, Torvald dear, have you got rid of him? + +HELMER. +Yes, he has just gone. + +NORA. +Let me introduce you—this is Christine, who has come to town. + +HELMER. +Christine—? Excuse me, but I don’t know— + +NORA. +Mrs Linde, dear; Christine Linde. + +HELMER. +Of course. A school friend of my wife’s, I presume? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, we have known each other since then. + +NORA. +And just think, she has taken a long journey in order to see you. + +HELMER. +What do you mean? + +MRS LINDE. +No, really, I— + +NORA. +Christine is tremendously clever at book-keeping, and she is +frightfully anxious to work under some clever man, so as to perfect +herself— + +HELMER. +Very sensible, Mrs Linde. + +NORA. +And when she heard you had been appointed manager of the Bank—the news +was telegraphed, you know—she travelled here as quick as she could. +Torvald, I am sure you will be able to do something for Christine, for +my sake, won’t you? + +HELMER. +Well, it is not altogether impossible. I presume you are a widow, Mrs +Linde? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes. + +HELMER. +And have had some experience of book-keeping? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, a fair amount. + +HELMER. +Ah! well, it’s very likely I may be able to find something for you— + +NORA. +_[clapping her hands]_. What did I tell you? What did I tell you? + +HELMER. +You have just come at a fortunate moment, Mrs Linde. + +MRS LINDE. +How am I to thank you? + +HELMER. +There is no need. _[Puts on his coat.]_ But today you must excuse me— + +RANK. +Wait a minute; I will come with you. _[Brings his fur coat from the +hall and warms it at the fire.]_ + +NORA. +Don’t be long away, Torvald dear. + +HELMER. +About an hour, not more. + +NORA. +Are you going too, Christine? + +MRS LINDE. +_[putting on her cloak]_. Yes, I must go and look for a room. + +HELMER. +Oh, well then, we can walk down the street together. + +NORA. +_[helping her]_. What a pity it is we are so short of space here; I am +afraid it is impossible for us— + +MRS LINDE. +Please don’t think of it! Goodbye, Nora dear, and many thanks. + +NORA. +Goodbye for the present. Of course you will come back this evening. And +you too, Dr. Rank. What do you say? If you are well enough? Oh, you +must be! Wrap yourself up well. _[They go to the door all talking +together. Children’s voices are heard on the staircase.]_ + +NORA. +There they are! There they are! _[She runs to open the door. The NURSE +comes in with the children.]_ Come in! Come in! _[Stoops and kisses +them.]_ Oh, you sweet blessings! Look at them, Christine! Aren’t they +darlings? + +RANK. +Don’t let us stand here in the draught. + +HELMER. +Come along, Mrs Linde; the place will only be bearable for a mother +now! + +_[RANK, HELMER, and Mrs Linde go downstairs. The NURSE comes forward +with the children; NORA shuts the hall door.]_ + +NORA. +How fresh and well you look! Such red cheeks like apples and roses. +_[The children all talk at once while she speaks to them.]_ Have you +had great fun? That’s splendid! What, you pulled both Emmy and Bob +along on the sledge? —both at once?—that was good. You are a clever +boy, Ivar. Let me take her for a little, Anne. My sweet little baby +doll! _[Takes the baby from the MAID and dances it up and down.]_ Yes, +yes, mother will dance with Bob too. What! Have you been snowballing? I +wish I had been there too! No, no, I will take their things off, Anne; +please let me do it, it is such fun. Go in now, you look half frozen. +There is some hot coffee for you on the stove. + +_[The NURSE goes into the room on the left. NORA takes off the +children’s things and throws them about, while they all talk to her at +once.]_ + +NORA. +Really! Did a big dog run after you? But it didn’t bite you? No, dogs +don’t bite nice little dolly children. You mustn’t look at the parcels, +Ivar. What are they? Ah, I daresay you would like to know. No, no—it’s +something nasty! Come, let us have a game! What shall we play at? Hide +and Seek? Yes, we’ll play Hide and Seek. Bob shall hide first. Must I +hide? Very well, I’ll hide first. _[She and the children laugh and +shout, and romp in and out of the room; at last NORA hides under the +table, the children rush in and out for her, but do not see her; they +hear her smothered laughter, run to the table, lift up the cloth and +find her. Shouts of laughter. She crawls forward and pretends to +frighten them. Fresh laughter. Meanwhile there has been a knock at the +hall door, but none of them has noticed it. The door is half opened, +and KROGSTAD appears, he waits a little; the game goes on.]_ + +KROGSTAD. +Excuse me, Mrs Helmer. + +NORA. +_[with a stifled cry, turns round and gets up on to her knees]_. Ah! +what do you want? + +KROGSTAD. +Excuse me, the outer door was ajar; I suppose someone forgot to shut +it. + +NORA. +_[rising]_. My husband is out, Mr. Krogstad. + +KROGSTAD. +I know that. + +NORA. +What do you want here, then? + +KROGSTAD. +A word with you. + +NORA. +With me?—_[To the children, gently.]_ Go in to nurse. What? No, the +strange man won’t do mother any harm. When he has gone we will have +another game. _[She takes the children into the room on the left, and +shuts the door after them.]_ You want to speak to me? + +KROGSTAD. +Yes, I do. + +NORA. +Today? It is not the first of the month yet. + +KROGSTAD. +No, it is Christmas Eve, and it will depend on yourself what sort of a +Christmas you will spend. + +NORA. +What do you mean? Today it is absolutely impossible for me— + +KROGSTAD. +We won’t talk about that until later on. This is something different. I +presume you can give me a moment? + +NORA. +Yes—yes, I can—although— + +KROGSTAD. +Good. I was in Olsen’s Restaurant and saw your husband going down the +street— + +NORA. +Yes? + +KROGSTAD. +With a lady. + +NORA. +What then? + +KROGSTAD. +May I make so bold as to ask if it was a Mrs Linde? + +NORA. +It was. + +KROGSTAD. +Just arrived in town? + +NORA. +Yes, today. + +KROGSTAD. +She is a great friend of yours, isn’t she? + +NORA. +She is. But I don’t see— + +KROGSTAD. +I knew her too, once upon a time. + +NORA. +I am aware of that. + +KROGSTAD. +Are you? So you know all about it; I thought as much. Then I can ask +you, without beating about the bush—is Mrs Linde to have an appointment +in the Bank? + +NORA. +What right have you to question me, Mr. Krogstad?—You, one of my +husband’s subordinates! But since you ask, you shall know. Yes, Mrs +Linde is to have an appointment. And it was I who pleaded her cause, +Mr. Krogstad, let me tell you that. + +KROGSTAD. +I was right in what I thought, then. + +NORA. +_[walking up and down the stage]_. Sometimes one has a tiny little bit +of influence, I should hope. Because one is a woman, it does not +necessarily follow that—. When anyone is in a subordinate position, Mr. +Krogstad, they should really be careful to avoid offending anyone +who—who— + +KROGSTAD. +Who has influence? + +NORA. +Exactly. + +KROGSTAD. +_[changing his tone]_. Mrs Helmer, you will be so good as to use your +influence on my behalf. + +NORA. +What? What do you mean? + +KROGSTAD. +You will be so kind as to see that I am allowed to keep my subordinate +position in the Bank. + +NORA. +What do you mean by that? Who proposes to take your post away from you? + +KROGSTAD. +Oh, there is no necessity to keep up the pretence of ignorance. I can +quite understand that your friend is not very anxious to expose herself +to the chance of rubbing shoulders with me; and I quite understand, +too, whom I have to thank for being turned off. + +NORA. +But I assure you— + +KROGSTAD. +Very likely; but, to come to the point, the time has come when I should +advise you to use your influence to prevent that. + +NORA. +But, Mr. Krogstad, I have no influence. + +KROGSTAD. +Haven’t you? I thought you said yourself just now— + +NORA. +Naturally I did not mean you to put that construction on it. I! What +should make you think I have any influence of that kind with my +husband? + +KROGSTAD. +Oh, I have known your husband from our student days. I don’t suppose he +is any more unassailable than other husbands. + +NORA. +If you speak slightingly of my husband, I shall turn you out of the +house. + +KROGSTAD. +You are bold, Mrs Helmer. + +NORA. +I am not afraid of you any longer. As soon as the New Year comes, I +shall in a very short time be free of the whole thing. + +KROGSTAD. +_[controlling himself]_. Listen to me, Mrs Helmer. If necessary, I am +prepared to fight for my small post in the Bank as if I were fighting +for my life. + +NORA. +So it seems. + +KROGSTAD. +It is not only for the sake of the money; indeed, that weighs least +with me in the matter. There is another reason—well, I may as well tell +you. My position is this. I daresay you know, like everybody else, that +once, many years ago, I was guilty of an indiscretion. + +NORA. +I think I have heard something of the kind. + +KROGSTAD. +The matter never came into court; but every way seemed to be closed to +me after that. So I took to the business that you know of. I had to do +something; and, honestly, I don’t think I’ve been one of the worst. But +now I must cut myself free from all that. My sons are growing up; for +their sake I must try and win back as much respect as I can in the +town. This post in the Bank was like the first step up for me—and now +your husband is going to kick me downstairs again into the mud. + +NORA. +But you must believe me, Mr. Krogstad; it is not in my power to help +you at all. + +KROGSTAD. +Then it is because you haven’t the will; but I have means to compel +you. + +NORA. +You don’t mean that you will tell my husband that I owe you money? + +KROGSTAD. +Hm!—suppose I were to tell him? + +NORA. +It would be perfectly infamous of you. _[Sobbing.]_ To think of his +learning my secret, which has been my joy and pride, in such an ugly, +clumsy way—that he should learn it from you! And it would put me in a +horribly disagreeable position— + +KROGSTAD. +Only disagreeable? + +NORA. +_[impetuously]_. Well, do it, then!—and it will be the worse for you. +My husband will see for himself what a blackguard you are, and you +certainly won’t keep your post then. + +KROGSTAD. +I asked you if it was only a disagreeable scene at home that you were +afraid of? + +NORA. +If my husband does get to know of it, of course he will at once pay you +what is still owing, and we shall have nothing more to do with you. + +KROGSTAD. +_[coming a step nearer]_. Listen to me, Mrs Helmer. Either you have a +very bad memory or you know very little of business. I shall be obliged +to remind you of a few details. + +NORA. +What do you mean? + +KROGSTAD. +When your husband was ill, you came to me to borrow two hundred and +fifty pounds. + +NORA. +I didn’t know anyone else to go to. + +KROGSTAD. +I promised to get you that amount— + +NORA. +Yes, and you did so. + +KROGSTAD. +I promised to get you that amount, on certain conditions. Your mind was +so taken up with your husband’s illness, and you were so anxious to get +the money for your journey, that you seem to have paid no attention to +the conditions of our bargain. Therefore it will not be amiss if I +remind you of them. Now, I promised to get the money on the security of +a bond which I drew up. + +NORA. +Yes, and which I signed. + +KROGSTAD. +Good. But below your signature there were a few lines constituting your +father a surety for the money; those lines your father should have +signed. + +NORA. +Should? He did sign them. + +KROGSTAD. +I had left the date blank; that is to say, your father should himself +have inserted the date on which he signed the paper. Do you remember +that? + +NORA. +Yes, I think I remember— + +KROGSTAD. +Then I gave you the bond to send by post to your father. Is that not +so? + +NORA. +Yes. + +KROGSTAD. +And you naturally did so at once, because five or six days afterwards +you brought me the bond with your father’s signature. And then I gave +you the money. + +NORA. +Well, haven’t I been paying it off regularly? + +KROGSTAD. +Fairly so, yes. But—to come back to the matter in hand—that must have +been a very trying time for you, Mrs Helmer? + +NORA. +It was, indeed. + +KROGSTAD. +Your father was very ill, wasn’t he? + +NORA. +He was very near his end. + +KROGSTAD. +And died soon afterwards? + +NORA. +Yes. + +KROGSTAD. +Tell me, Mrs Helmer, can you by any chance remember what day your +father died?—on what day of the month, I mean. + +NORA. +Papa died on the 29th of September. + +KROGSTAD. +That is correct; I have ascertained it for myself. And, as that is so, +there is a discrepancy _[taking a paper from his pocket]_ which I +cannot account for. + +NORA. +What discrepancy? I don’t know— + +KROGSTAD. +The discrepancy consists, Mrs Helmer, in the fact that your father +signed this bond three days after his death. + +NORA. +What do you mean? I don’t understand— + +KROGSTAD. +Your father died on the 29th of September. But, look here; your father +has dated his signature the 2nd of October. It is a discrepancy, isn’t +it? _[NORA is silent.]_ Can you explain it to me? _[NORA is still +silent.]_ It is a remarkable thing, too, that the words “2nd of +October,” as well as the year, are not written in your father’s +handwriting but in one that I think I know. Well, of course it can be +explained; your father may have forgotten to date his signature, and +someone else may have dated it haphazard before they knew of his death. +There is no harm in that. It all depends on the signature of the name; +and that is genuine, I suppose, Mrs Helmer? It was your father himself +who signed his name here? + +NORA. +_[after a short pause, throws her head up and looks defiantly at him]_. +No, it was not. It was I that wrote papa’s name. + +KROGSTAD. +Are you aware that is a dangerous confession? + +NORA. +In what way? You shall have your money soon. + +KROGSTAD. +Let me ask you a question; why did you not send the paper to your +father? + +NORA. +It was impossible; papa was so ill. If I had asked him for his +signature, I should have had to tell him what the money was to be used +for; and when he was so ill himself I couldn’t tell him that my +husband’s life was in danger—it was impossible. + +KROGSTAD. +It would have been better for you if you had given up your trip abroad. + +NORA. +No, that was impossible. That trip was to save my husband’s life; I +couldn’t give that up. + +KROGSTAD. +But did it never occur to you that you were committing a fraud on me? + +NORA. +I couldn’t take that into account; I didn’t trouble myself about you at +all. I couldn’t bear you, because you put so many heartless +difficulties in my way, although you knew what a dangerous condition my +husband was in. + +KROGSTAD. +Mrs Helmer, you evidently do not realise clearly what it is that you +have been guilty of. But I can assure you that my one false step, which +lost me all my reputation, was nothing more or nothing worse than what +you have done. + +NORA. +You? Do you ask me to believe that you were brave enough to run a risk +to save your wife’s life? + +KROGSTAD. +The law cares nothing about motives. + +NORA. +Then it must be a very foolish law. + +KROGSTAD. +Foolish or not, it is the law by which you will be judged, if I produce +this paper in court. + +NORA. +I don’t believe it. Is a daughter not to be allowed to spare her dying +father anxiety and care? Is a wife not to be allowed to save her +husband’s life? I don’t know much about law; but I am certain that +there must be laws permitting such things as that. Have you no +knowledge of such laws—you who are a lawyer? You must be a very poor +lawyer, Mr. Krogstad. + +KROGSTAD. +Maybe. But matters of business—such business as you and I have had +together—do you think I don’t understand that? Very well. Do as you +please. But let me tell you this—if I lose my position a second time, +you shall lose yours with me. _[He bows, and goes out through the +hall.]_ + +NORA. +_[appears buried in thought for a short time, then tosses her head]_. +Nonsense! Trying to frighten me like that!—I am not so silly as he +thinks. _[Begins to busy herself putting the children’s things in +order.]_ And yet—? No, it’s impossible! I did it for love’s sake. + +THE CHILDREN. +_[in the doorway on the left]_. Mother, the stranger man has gone out +through the gate. + +NORA. +Yes, dears, I know. But, don’t tell anyone about the stranger man. Do +you hear? Not even papa. + +CHILDREN. +No, mother; but will you come and play again? + +NORA. +No, no,—not now. + +CHILDREN. +But, mother, you promised us. + +NORA. +Yes, but I can’t now. Run away in; I have such a lot to do. Run away +in, my sweet little darlings. _[She gets them into the room by degrees +and shuts the door on them; then sits down on the sofa, takes up a +piece of needlework and sews a few stitches, but soon stops.]_ No! +_[Throws down the work, gets up, goes to the hall door and calls out.]_ +Helen! bring the Tree in. _[Goes to the table on the left, opens a +drawer, and stops again.]_ No, no! it is quite impossible! + +MAID. +_[coming in with the Tree]_. Where shall I put it, ma’am? + +NORA. +Here, in the middle of the floor. + +MAID. +Shall I get you anything else? + +NORA. +No, thank you. I have all I want. [Exit MAID.] + +NORA. +_[begins dressing the tree]_. A candle here-and flowers here—The +horrible man! It’s all nonsense—there’s nothing wrong. The tree shall +be splendid! I will do everything I can think of to please you, +Torvald!—I will sing for you, dance for you—_[HELMER comes in with some +papers under his arm.]_ Oh! are you back already? + +HELMER. +Yes. Has anyone been here? + +NORA. +Here? No. + +HELMER. +That is strange. I saw Krogstad going out of the gate. + +NORA. +Did you? Oh yes, I forgot, Krogstad was here for a moment. + +HELMER. +Nora, I can see from your manner that he has been here begging you to +say a good word for him. + +NORA. +Yes. + +HELMER. +And you were to appear to do it of your own accord; you were to conceal +from me the fact of his having been here; didn’t he beg that of you +too? + +NORA. +Yes, Torvald, but— + +HELMER. +Nora, Nora, and you would be a party to that sort of thing? To have any +talk with a man like that, and give him any sort of promise? And to +tell me a lie into the bargain? + +NORA. +A lie—? + +HELMER. +Didn’t you tell me no one had been here? _[Shakes his finger at her.]_ +My little songbird must never do that again. A songbird must have a +clean beak to chirp with—no false notes! _[Puts his arm round her +waist.]_ That is so, isn’t it? Yes, I am sure it is. _[Lets her go.]_ +We will say no more about it. _[Sits down by the stove.]_ How warm and +snug it is here! _[Turns over his papers.]_ + +NORA. +_[after a short pause, during which she busies herself with the +Christmas Tree.]_ Torvald! + +HELMER. +Yes. + +NORA. +I am looking forward tremendously to the fancy-dress ball at the +Stenborgs’ the day after tomorrow. + +HELMER. +And I am tremendously curious to see what you are going to surprise me +with. + +NORA. +It was very silly of me to want to do that. + +HELMER. +What do you mean? + +NORA. +I can’t hit upon anything that will do; everything I think of seems so +silly and insignificant. + +HELMER. +Does my little Nora acknowledge that at last? + +NORA. +_[standing behind his chair with her arms on the back of it]_. Are you +very busy, Torvald? + +HELMER. +Well— + +NORA. +What are all those papers? + +HELMER. +Bank business. + +NORA. +Already? + +HELMER. +I have got authority from the retiring manager to undertake the +necessary changes in the staff and in the rearrangement of the work; +and I must make use of the Christmas week for that, so as to have +everything in order for the new year. + +NORA. +Then that was why this poor Krogstad— + +HELMER. +Hm! + +NORA. +_[leans against the back of his chair and strokes his hair]_. If you +hadn’t been so busy I should have asked you a tremendously big favour, +Torvald. + +HELMER. +What is that? Tell me. + +NORA. +There is no one has such good taste as you. And I do so want to look +nice at the fancy-dress ball. Torvald, couldn’t you take me in hand and +decide what I shall go as, and what sort of a dress I shall wear? + +HELMER. +Aha! so my obstinate little woman is obliged to get someone to come to +her rescue? + +NORA. +Yes, Torvald, I can’t get along a bit without your help. + +HELMER. +Very well, I will think it over, we shall manage to hit upon something. + +NORA. +That is nice of you. _[Goes to the Christmas Tree. A short pause.]_ How +pretty the red flowers look—. But, tell me, was it really something +very bad that this Krogstad was guilty of? + +HELMER. +He forged someone’s name. Have you any idea what that means? + +NORA. +Isn’t it possible that he was driven to do it by necessity? + +HELMER. +Yes; or, as in so many cases, by imprudence. I am not so heartless as +to condemn a man altogether because of a single false step of that +kind. + +NORA. +No, you wouldn’t, would you, Torvald? + +HELMER. +Many a man has been able to retrieve his character, if he has openly +confessed his fault and taken his punishment. + +NORA. +Punishment—? + +HELMER. +But Krogstad did nothing of that sort; he got himself out of it by a +cunning trick, and that is why he has gone under altogether. + +NORA. +But do you think it would—? + +HELMER. +Just think how a guilty man like that has to lie and play the hypocrite +with every one, how he has to wear a mask in the presence of those near +and dear to him, even before his own wife and children. And about the +children—that is the most terrible part of it all, Nora. + +NORA. +How? + +HELMER. +Because such an atmosphere of lies infects and poisons the whole life +of a home. Each breath the children take in such a house is full of the +germs of evil. + +NORA. +_[coming nearer him]_. Are you sure of that? + +HELMER. +My dear, I have often seen it in the course of my life as a lawyer. +Almost everyone who has gone to the bad early in life has had a +deceitful mother. + +NORA. +Why do you only say—mother? + +HELMER. +It seems most commonly to be the mother’s influence, though naturally a +bad father’s would have the same result. Every lawyer is familiar with +the fact. This Krogstad, now, has been persistently poisoning his own +children with lies and dissimulation; that is why I say he has lost all +moral character. _[Holds out his hands to her.]_ That is why my sweet +little Nora must promise me not to plead his cause. Give me your hand +on it. Come, come, what is this? Give me your hand. There now, that’s +settled. I assure you it would be quite impossible for me to work with +him; I literally feel physically ill when I am in the company of such +people. + +NORA. +_[takes her hand out of his and goes to the opposite side of the +Christmas Tree]_. How hot it is in here; and I have such a lot to do. + +HELMER. +_[getting up and putting his papers in order]_. Yes, and I must try and +read through some of these before dinner; and I must think about your +costume, too. And it is just possible I may have something ready in +gold paper to hang up on the Tree. _[Puts his hand on her head.]_ My +precious little singing-bird! _[He goes into his room and shuts the +door after him.]_ + +NORA. +_[after a pause, whispers]_. No, no—it isn’t true. It’s impossible; it +must be impossible. + +_[The NURSE opens the door on the left.]_ + +NURSE. +The little ones are begging so hard to be allowed to come in to mamma. + +NORA. +No, no, no! Don’t let them come in to me! You stay with them, Anne. + +NURSE. +Very well, ma’am. _[Shuts the door.]_ + +NORA. +_[pale with terror]_. Deprave my little children? Poison my home? _[A +short pause. Then she tosses her head.]_ It’s not true. It can’t +possibly be true. + + + + +ACT II + + +_[THE SAME SCENE.—THE Christmas Tree is in the corner by the piano, +stripped of its ornaments and with burnt-down candle-ends on its +dishevelled branches. NORA’S cloak and hat are lying on the sofa. She +is alone in the room, walking about uneasily. She stops by the sofa and +takes up her cloak.]_ + +NORA. +_[drops her cloak]_. Someone is coming now! _[Goes to the door and +listens.]_ No—it is no one. Of course, no one will come today, +Christmas Day—nor tomorrow either. But, perhaps—_[opens the door and +looks out]_. No, nothing in the letterbox; it is quite empty. _[Comes +forward.]_ What rubbish! of course he can’t be in earnest about it. +Such a thing couldn’t happen; it is impossible—I have three little +children. + +_[Enter the NURSE from the room on the left, carrying a big cardboard +box.]_ + +NURSE. +At last I have found the box with the fancy dress. + +NORA. +Thanks; put it on the table. + +NURSE. +_[doing so]_. But it is very much in want of mending. + +NORA. +I should like to tear it into a hundred thousand pieces. + +NURSE. +What an idea! It can easily be put in order—just a little patience. + +NORA. +Yes, I will go and get Mrs Linde to come and help me with it. + +NURSE. +What, out again? In this horrible weather? You will catch cold, ma’am, +and make yourself ill. + +NORA. +Well, worse than that might happen. How are the children? + +NURSE. +The poor little souls are playing with their Christmas presents, but— + +NORA. +Do they ask much for me? + +NURSE. +You see, they are so accustomed to have their mamma with them. + +NORA. +Yes, but, nurse, I shall not be able to be so much with them now as I +was before. + +NURSE. +Oh well, young children easily get accustomed to anything. + +NORA. +Do you think so? Do you think they would forget their mother if she +went away altogether? + +NURSE. +Good heavens!—went away altogether? + +NORA. +Nurse, I want you to tell me something I have often wondered about—how +could you have the heart to put your own child out among strangers? + +NURSE. +I was obliged to, if I wanted to be little Nora’s nurse. + +NORA. +Yes, but how could you be willing to do it? + +NURSE. +What, when I was going to get such a good place by it? A poor girl who +has got into trouble should be glad to. Besides, that wicked man didn’t +do a single thing for me. + +NORA. +But I suppose your daughter has quite forgotten you. + +NURSE. +No, indeed she hasn’t. She wrote to me when she was confirmed, and when +she was married. + +NORA. +_[putting her arms round her neck]_. Dear old Anne, you were a good +mother to me when I was little. + +NURSE. +Little Nora, poor dear, had no other mother but me. + +NORA. +And if my little ones had no other mother, I am sure you would—What +nonsense I am talking! _[Opens the box.]_ Go in to them. Now I must—. +You will see tomorrow how charming I shall look. + +NURSE. +I am sure there will be no one at the ball so charming as you, ma’am. +_[Goes into the room on the left.]_ + +NORA. +_[begins to unpack the box, but soon pushes it away from her]_. If only +I dared go out. If only no one would come. If only I could be sure +nothing would happen here in the meantime. Stuff and nonsense! No one +will come. Only I mustn’t think about it. I will brush my muff. What +lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts, out of my thoughts! One, +two, three, four, five, six— _[Screams.]_ Ah! there is someone coming—. +_[Makes a movement towards the door, but stands irresolute.]_ + +_[Enter Mrs Linde from the hall, where she has taken off her cloak and +hat.]_ + +NORA. +Oh, it’s you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is there? How +good of you to come! + +MRS LINDE. +I heard you were up asking for me. + +NORA. +Yes, I was passing by. As a matter of fact, it is something you could +help me with. Let us sit down here on the sofa. Look here. Tomorrow +evening there is to be a fancy-dress ball at the Stenborgs’, who live +above us; and Torvald wants me to go as a Neapolitan fisher-girl, and +dance the Tarantella that I learned at Capri. + +MRS LINDE. +I see; you are going to keep up the character. + +NORA. +Yes, Torvald wants me to. Look, here is the dress; Torvald had it made +for me there, but now it is all so torn, and I haven’t any idea— + +MRS LINDE. +We will easily put that right. It is only some of the trimming come +unsewn here and there. Needle and thread? Now then, that’s all we want. + +NORA. +It is nice of you. + +MRS LINDE. +_[sewing]_. So you are going to be dressed up tomorrow Nora. I will +tell you what—I shall come in for a moment and see you in your fine +feathers. But I have completely forgotten to thank you for a delightful +evening yesterday. + +NORA. +_[gets up, and crosses the stage]_. Well, I don’t think yesterday was +as pleasant as usual. You ought to have come to town a little earlier, +Christine. Certainly Torvald does understand how to make a house dainty +and attractive. + +MRS LINDE. +And so do you, it seems to me; you are not your father’s daughter for +nothing. But tell me, is Doctor Rank always as depressed as he was +yesterday? + +NORA. +No; yesterday it was very noticeable. I must tell you that he suffers +from a very dangerous disease. He has consumption of the spine, poor +creature. His father was a horrible man who committed all sorts of +excesses; and that is why his son was sickly from childhood, do you +understand? + +MRS LINDE. +_[dropping her sewing]_. But, my dearest Nora, how do you know anything +about such things? + +NORA. +_[walking about]_. Pooh! When you have three children, you get visits +now and then from—from married women, who know something of medical +matters, and they talk about one thing and another. + +MRS LINDE. +_[goes on sewing. A short silence]_. Does Doctor Rank come here +everyday? + +NORA. +Everyday regularly. He is Torvald’s most intimate friend, and a great +friend of mine too. He is just like one of the family. + +MRS LINDE. +But tell me this—is he perfectly sincere? I mean, isn’t he the kind of +man that is very anxious to make himself agreeable? + +NORA. +Not in the least. What makes you think that? + +MRS LINDE. +When you introduced him to me yesterday, he declared he had often heard +my name mentioned in this house; but afterwards I noticed that your +husband hadn’t the slightest idea who I was. So how could Doctor Rank—? + +NORA. +That is quite right, Christine. Torvald is so absurdly fond of me that +he wants me absolutely to himself, as he says. At first he used to seem +almost jealous if I mentioned any of the dear folk at home, so +naturally I gave up doing so. But I often talk about such things with +Doctor Rank, because he likes hearing about them. + +MRS LINDE. +Listen to me, Nora. You are still very like a child in many things, and +I am older than you in many ways and have a little more experience. Let +me tell you this—you ought to make an end of it with Doctor Rank. + +NORA. +What ought I to make an end of? + +MRS LINDE. +Of two things, I think. Yesterday you talked some nonsense about a rich +admirer who was to leave you money— + +NORA. +An admirer who doesn’t exist, unfortunately! But what then? + +MRS LINDE. +Is Doctor Rank a man of means? + +NORA. +Yes, he is. + +MRS LINDE. +And has no one to provide for? + +NORA. +No, no one; but— + +MRS LINDE. +And comes here everyday? + +NORA. +Yes, I told you so. + +MRS LINDE. +But how can this well-bred man be so tactless? + +NORA. +I don’t understand you at all. + +MRS LINDE. +Don’t prevaricate, Nora. Do you suppose I don’t guess who lent you the +two hundred and fifty pounds? + +NORA. +Are you out of your senses? How can you think of such a thing! A friend +of ours, who comes here everyday! Do you realise what a horribly +painful position that would be? + +MRS LINDE. +Then it really isn’t he? + +NORA. +No, certainly not. It would never have entered into my head for a +moment. Besides, he had no money to lend then; he came into his money +afterwards. + +MRS LINDE. +Well, I think that was lucky for you, my dear Nora. + +NORA. +No, it would never have come into my head to ask Doctor Rank. Although +I am quite sure that if I had asked him— + +MRS LINDE. +But of course you won’t. + +NORA. +Of course not. I have no reason to think it could possibly be +necessary. But I am quite sure that if I told Doctor Rank— + +MRS LINDE. +Behind your husband’s back? + +NORA. +I must make an end of it with the other one, and that will be behind +his back too. I must make an end of it with him. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, that is what I told you yesterday, but— + +NORA. +_[walking up and down]_. A man can put a thing like that straight much +easier than a woman— + +MRS LINDE. +One’s husband, yes. + +NORA. +Nonsense! _[Standing still.]_ When you pay off a debt you get your bond +back, don’t you? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, as a matter of course. + +NORA. +And can tear it into a hundred thousand pieces, and burn it up—the +nasty dirty paper! + +MRS LINDE. +_[looks hard at her, lays down her sewing and gets up slowly]_. Nora, +you are concealing something from me. + +NORA. +Do I look as if I were? + +MRS LINDE. +Something has happened to you since yesterday morning. Nora, what is +it? + +NORA. +_[going nearer to her]_. Christine! _[Listens.]_ Hush! there’s Torvald +come home. Do you mind going in to the children for the present? +Torvald can’t bear to see dressmaking going on. Let Anne help you. + +MRS LINDE. +_[gathering some of the things together]_. Certainly—but I am not going +away from here until we have had it out with one another. _[She goes +into the room on the left, as HELMER comes in from the hall.]_ + +NORA. +_[going up to HELMER]_. I have wanted you so much, Torvald dear. + +HELMER. +Was that the dressmaker? + +NORA. +No, it was Christine; she is helping me to put my dress in order. You +will see I shall look quite smart. + +HELMER. +Wasn’t that a happy thought of mine, now? + +NORA. +Splendid! But don’t you think it is nice of me, too, to do as you wish? + +HELMER. +Nice?—because you do as your husband wishes? Well, well, you little +rogue, I am sure you did not mean it in that way. But I am not going to +disturb you; you will want to be trying on your dress, I expect. + +NORA. +I suppose you are going to work. + +HELMER. +Yes. _[Shows her a bundle of papers.]_ Look at that. I have just been +into the bank. _[Turns to go into his room.]_ + +NORA. +Torvald. + +HELMER. +Yes. + +NORA. +If your little squirrel were to ask you for something very, very +prettily—? + +HELMER. +What then? + +NORA. +Would you do it? + +HELMER. +I should like to hear what it is, first. + +NORA. +Your squirrel would run about and do all her tricks if you would be +nice, and do what she wants. + +HELMER. +Speak plainly. + +NORA. +Your skylark would chirp about in every room, with her song rising and +falling— + +HELMER. +Well, my skylark does that anyhow. + +NORA. +I would play the fairy and dance for you in the moonlight, Torvald. + +HELMER. +Nora—you surely don’t mean that request you made to me this morning? + +NORA. +_[going near him]_. Yes, Torvald, I beg you so earnestly— + +HELMER. +Have you really the courage to open up that question again? + +NORA. +Yes, dear, you must do as I ask; you must let Krogstad keep his post in +the bank. + +HELMER. +My dear Nora, it is his post that I have arranged Mrs Linde shall have. + +NORA. +Yes, you have been awfully kind about that; but you could just as well +dismiss some other clerk instead of Krogstad. + +HELMER. +This is simply incredible obstinacy! Because you chose to give him a +thoughtless promise that you would speak for him, I am expected to— + +NORA. +That isn’t the reason, Torvald. It is for your own sake. This fellow +writes in the most scurrilous newspapers; you have told me so yourself. +He can do you an unspeakable amount of harm. I am frightened to death +of him— + +HELMER. +Ah, I understand; it is recollections of the past that scare you. + +NORA. +What do you mean? + +HELMER. +Naturally you are thinking of your father. + +NORA. +Yes—yes, of course. Just recall to your mind what these malicious +creatures wrote in the papers about papa, and how horribly they +slandered him. I believe they would have procured his dismissal if the +Department had not sent you over to inquire into it, and if you had not +been so kindly disposed and helpful to him. + +HELMER. +My little Nora, there is an important difference between your father +and me. Your father’s reputation as a public official was not above +suspicion. Mine is, and I hope it will continue to be so, as long as I +hold my office. + +NORA. +You never can tell what mischief these men may contrive. We ought to be +so well off, so snug and happy here in our peaceful home, and have no +cares—you and I and the children, Torvald! That is why I beg you so +earnestly— + +HELMER. +And it is just by interceding for him that you make it impossible for +me to keep him. It is already known at the Bank that I mean to dismiss +Krogstad. Is it to get about now that the new manager has changed his +mind at his wife’s bidding— + +NORA. +And what if it did? + +HELMER. +Of course!—if only this obstinate little person can get her way! Do you +suppose I am going to make myself ridiculous before my whole staff, to +let people think that I am a man to be swayed by all sorts of outside +influence? I should very soon feel the consequences of it, I can tell +you! And besides, there is one thing that makes it quite impossible for +me to have Krogstad in the Bank as long as I am manager. + +NORA. +Whatever is that? + +HELMER. +His moral failings I might perhaps have overlooked, if necessary— + +NORA. +Yes, you could—couldn’t you? + +HELMER. +And I hear he is a good worker, too. But I knew him when we were boys. +It was one of those rash friendships that so often prove an incubus in +afterlife. I may as well tell you plainly, we were once on very +intimate terms with one another. But this tactless fellow lays no +restraint on himself when other people are present. On the contrary, he +thinks it gives him the right to adopt a familiar tone with me, and +every minute it is “I say, Helmer, old fellow!” and that sort of thing. +I assure you it is extremely painful for me. He would make my position +in the Bank intolerable. + +NORA. +Torvald, I don’t believe you mean that. + +HELMER. +Don’t you? Why not? + +NORA. +Because it is such a narrow-minded way of looking at things. + +HELMER. +What are you saying? Narrow-minded? Do you think I am narrow-minded? + +NORA. +No, just the opposite, dear—and it is exactly for that reason. + +HELMER. +It’s the same thing. You say my point of view is narrow-minded, so I +must be so too. Narrow-minded! Very well—I must put an end to this. +_[Goes to the hall door and calls.]_ Helen! + +NORA. +What are you going to do? + +HELMER. +_[looking among his papers]_. Settle it. _[Enter MAID.]_ Look here; +take this letter and go downstairs with it at once. Find a messenger +and tell him to deliver it, and be quick. The address is on it, and +here is the money. + +MAID. +Very well, sir. _[Exit with the letter.]_ + +HELMER. +_[putting his papers together]_. Now then, little Miss Obstinate. + +NORA. +_[breathlessly]_. Torvald—what was that letter? + +HELMER. +Krogstad’s dismissal. + +NORA. +Call her back, Torvald! There is still time. Oh Torvald, call her back! +Do it for my sake—for your own sake—for the children’s sake! Do you +hear me, Torvald? Call her back! You don’t know what that letter can +bring upon us. + +HELMER. +It’s too late. + +NORA. +Yes, it’s too late. + +HELMER. +My dear Nora, I can forgive the anxiety you are in, although really it +is an insult to me. It is, indeed. Isn’t it an insult to think that I +should be afraid of a starving quill-driver’s vengeance? But I forgive +you nevertheless, because it is such eloquent witness to your great +love for me. _[Takes her in his arms.]_ And that is as it should be, my +own darling Nora. Come what will, you may be sure I shall have both +courage and strength if they be needed. You will see I am man enough to +take everything upon myself. + +NORA. +_[in a horror-stricken voice]_. What do you mean by that? + +HELMER. +Everything, I say— + +NORA. +_[recovering herself]_. You will never have to do that. + +HELMER. +That’s right. Well, we will share it, Nora, as man and wife should. +That is how it shall be. _[Caressing her.]_ Are you content now? There! +There!—not these frightened dove’s eyes! The whole thing is only the +wildest fancy!—Now, you must go and play through the Tarantella and +practise with your tambourine. I shall go into the inner office and +shut the door, and I shall hear nothing; you can make as much noise as +you please. _[Turns back at the door.]_ And when Rank comes, tell him +where he will find me. _[Nods to her, takes his papers and goes into +his room, and shuts the door after him.]_ + +NORA. +_[bewildered with anxiety, stands as if rooted to the spot, and +whispers]_. He was capable of doing it. He will do it. He will do it in +spite of everything.—No, not that! Never, never! Anything rather than +that! Oh, for some help, some way out of it! _[The door-bell rings.]_ +Doctor Rank! Anything rather than that—anything, whatever it is! _[She +puts her hands over her face, pulls herself together, goes to the door +and opens it. RANK is standing without, hanging up his coat. During the +following dialogue it begins to grow dark.]_ + +NORA. +Good day, Doctor Rank. I knew your ring. But you mustn’t go in to +Torvald now; I think he is busy with something. + +RANK. +And you? + +NORA. +_[brings him in and shuts the door after him]_. Oh, you know very well +I always have time for you. + +RANK. +Thank you. I shall make use of as much of it as I can. + +NORA. +What do you mean by that? As much of it as you can? + +RANK. +Well, does that alarm you? + +NORA. +It was such a strange way of putting it. Is anything likely to happen? + +RANK. +Nothing but what I have long been prepared for. But I certainly didn’t +expect it to happen so soon. + +NORA. +_[gripping him by the arm]_. What have you found out? Doctor Rank, you +must tell me. + +RANK. +_[sitting down by the stove]_. It is all up with me. And it can’t be +helped. + +NORA. +_[with a sigh of relief]_. Is it about yourself? + +RANK. +Who else? It is no use lying to one’s self. I am the most wretched of +all my patients, Mrs Helmer. Lately I have been taking stock of my +internal economy. Bankrupt! Probably within a month I shall lie rotting +in the churchyard. + +NORA. +What an ugly thing to say! + +RANK. +The thing itself is cursedly ugly, and the worst of it is that I shall +have to face so much more that is ugly before that. I shall only make +one more examination of myself; when I have done that, I shall know +pretty certainly when it will be that the horrors of dissolution will +begin. There is something I want to tell you. Helmer’s refined nature +gives him an unconquerable disgust at everything that is ugly; I won’t +have him in my sick-room. + +NORA. +Oh, but, Doctor Rank— + +RANK. +I won’t have him there. Not on any account. I bar my door to him. As +soon as I am quite certain that the worst has come, I shall send you my +card with a black cross on it, and then you will know that the +loathsome end has begun. + +NORA. +You are quite absurd today. And I wanted you so much to be in a really +good humour. + +RANK. +With death stalking beside me?—To have to pay this penalty for another +man’s sin? Is there any justice in that? And in every single family, in +one way or another, some such inexorable retribution is being exacted— + +NORA. +_[putting her hands over her ears]_. Rubbish! Do talk of something +cheerful. + +RANK. +Oh, it’s a mere laughing matter, the whole thing. My poor innocent +spine has to suffer for my father’s youthful amusements. + +NORA. +_[sitting at the table on the left]_. I suppose you mean that he was +too partial to asparagus and pate de foie gras, don’t you? + +RANK. +Yes, and to truffles. + +NORA. +Truffles, yes. And oysters too, I suppose? + +RANK. +Oysters, of course, that goes without saying. + +NORA. +And heaps of port and champagne. It is sad that all these nice things +should take their revenge on our bones. + +RANK. +Especially that they should revenge themselves on the unlucky bones of +those who have not had the satisfaction of enjoying them. + +NORA. +Yes, that’s the saddest part of it all. + +RANK. +_[with a searching look at her]_. Hm!— + +NORA. +_[after a short pause]_. Why did you smile? + +RANK. +No, it was you that laughed. + +NORA. +No, it was you that smiled, Doctor Rank! + +RANK. +_[rising]_. You are a greater rascal than I thought. + +NORA. +I am in a silly mood today. + +RANK. +So it seems. + +NORA. +_[putting her hands on his shoulders]_. Dear, dear Doctor Rank, death +mustn’t take you away from Torvald and me. + +RANK. +It is a loss you would easily recover from. Those who are gone are soon +forgotten. + +NORA. +_[looking at him anxiously]_. Do you believe that? + +RANK. +People form new ties, and then— + +NORA. +Who will form new ties? + +RANK. +Both you and Helmer, when I am gone. You yourself are already on the +high road to it, I think. What did that Mrs Linde want here last night? + +NORA. +Oho!—you don’t mean to say you are jealous of poor Christine? + +RANK. +Yes, I am. She will be my successor in this house. When I am done for, +this woman will— + +NORA. +Hush! don’t speak so loud. She is in that room. + +RANK. +Today again. There, you see. + +NORA. +She has only come to sew my dress for me. Bless my soul, how +unreasonable you are! _[Sits down on the sofa.]_ Be nice now, Doctor +Rank, and tomorrow you will see how beautifully I shall dance, and you +can imagine I am doing it all for you—and for Torvald too, of course. +_[Takes various things out of the box.]_ Doctor Rank, come and sit down +here, and I will show you something. + +RANK. +_[sitting down]_. What is it? + +NORA. +Just look at those! + +RANK. +Silk stockings. + +NORA. +Flesh-coloured. Aren’t they lovely? It is so dark here now, but +tomorrow—. No, no, no! you must only look at the feet. Oh well, you may +have leave to look at the legs too. + +RANK. +Hm!— + +NORA. +Why are you looking so critical? Don’t you think they will fit me? + +RANK. +I have no means of forming an opinion about that. + +NORA. +_[looks at him for a moment]_. For shame! _[Hits him lightly on the ear +with the stockings.]_ That’s to punish you. _[Folds them up again.]_ + +RANK. +And what other nice things am I to be allowed to see? + +NORA. +Not a single thing more, for being so naughty. _[She looks among the +things, humming to herself.]_ + +RANK. +_[after a short silence]_. When I am sitting here, talking to you as +intimately as this, I cannot imagine for a moment what would have +become of me if I had never come into this house. + +NORA. +_[smiling]_. I believe you do feel thoroughly at home with us. + +RANK. +_[in a lower voice, looking straight in front of him]_. And to be +obliged to leave it all— + +NORA. +Nonsense, you are not going to leave it. + +RANK. +_[as before]_. And not be able to leave behind one the slightest token +of one’s gratitude, scarcely even a fleeting regret—nothing but an +empty place which the first comer can fill as well as any other. + +NORA. +And if I asked you now for a—? No! + +RANK. +For what? + +NORA. +For a big proof of your friendship— + +RANK. +Yes, yes! + +NORA. +I mean a tremendously big favour— + +RANK. +Would you really make me so happy for once? + +NORA. +Ah, but you don’t know what it is yet. + +RANK. +No—but tell me. + +NORA. +I really can’t, Doctor Rank. It is something out of all reason; it +means advice, and help, and a favour— + +RANK. +The bigger a thing it is the better. I can’t conceive what it is you +mean. Do tell me. Haven’t I your confidence? + +NORA. +More than anyone else. I know you are my truest and best friend, and so +I will tell you what it is. Well, Doctor Rank, it is something you must +help me to prevent. You know how devotedly, how inexpressibly deeply +Torvald loves me; he would never for a moment hesitate to give his life +for me. + +RANK. +_[leaning towards her]_. Nora—do you think he is the only one—? + +NORA. +_[with a slight start]_. The only one—? + +RANK. +The only one who would gladly give his life for your sake. + +NORA. +_[sadly]_. Is that it? + +RANK. +I was determined you should know it before I went away, and there will +never be a better opportunity than this. Now you know it, Nora. And now +you know, too, that you can trust me as you would trust no one else. + +NORA. +_[rises, deliberately and quietly]_. Let me pass. + +RANK. +_[makes room for her to pass him, but sits still]_. Nora! + +NORA. +_[at the hall door]_. Helen, bring in the lamp. _[Goes over to the +stove.]_ Dear Doctor Rank, that was really horrid of you. + +RANK. +To have loved you as much as anyone else does? Was that horrid? + +NORA. +No, but to go and tell me so. There was really no need— + +RANK. +What do you mean? Did you know—? _[MAID enters with lamp, puts it down +on the table, and goes out.]_ Nora—Mrs Helmer—tell me, had you any idea +of this? + +NORA. +Oh, how do I know whether I had or whether I hadn’t? I really can’t +tell you—To think you could be so clumsy, Doctor Rank! We were getting +on so nicely. + +RANK. +Well, at all events you know now that you can command me, body and +soul. So won’t you speak out? + +NORA. +_[looking at him]_. After what happened? + +RANK. +I beg you to let me know what it is. + +NORA. +I can’t tell you anything now. + +RANK. +Yes, yes. You mustn’t punish me in that way. Let me have permission to +do for you whatever a man may do. + +NORA. +You can do nothing for me now. Besides, I really don’t need any help at +all. You will find that the whole thing is merely fancy on my part. It +really is so—of course it is! _[Sits down in the rocking-chair, and +looks at him with a smile.]_ You are a nice sort of man, Doctor +Rank!—don’t you feel ashamed of yourself, now the lamp has come? + +RANK. +Not a bit. But perhaps I had better go—for ever? + +NORA. +No, indeed, you shall not. Of course you must come here just as before. +You know very well Torvald can’t do without you. + +RANK. +Yes, but you? + +NORA. +Oh, I am always tremendously pleased when you come. + +RANK. +It is just that, that put me on the wrong track. You are a riddle to +me. I have often thought that you would almost as soon be in my company +as in Helmer’s. + +NORA. +Yes—you see there are some people one loves best, and others whom one +would almost always rather have as companions. + +RANK. +Yes, there is something in that. + +NORA. +When I was at home, of course I loved papa best. But I always thought +it tremendous fun if I could steal down into the maids’ room, because +they never moralised at all, and talked to each other about such +entertaining things. + +RANK. +I see—it is their place I have taken. + +NORA. +_[jumping up and going to him]_. Oh, dear, nice Doctor Rank, I never +meant that at all. But surely you can understand that being with +Torvald is a little like being with papa—_[Enter MAID from the hall.]_ + +MAID. +If you please, ma’am. _[Whispers and hands her a card.]_ + +NORA. +_[glancing at the card]_. Oh! _[Puts it in her pocket.]_ + +RANK. +Is there anything wrong? + +NORA. +No, no, not in the least. It is only something—it is my new dress— + +RANK. +What? Your dress is lying there. + +NORA. +Oh, yes, that one; but this is another. I ordered it. Torvald mustn’t +know about it— + +RANK. +Oho! Then that was the great secret. + +NORA. +Of course. Just go in to him; he is sitting in the inner room. Keep him +as long as— + +RANK. +Make your mind easy; I won’t let him escape. + +_[Goes into HELMER’S room.]_ + +NORA. +_[to the MAID]_. And he is standing waiting in the kitchen? + +MAID. +Yes; he came up the back stairs. + +NORA. +But didn’t you tell him no one was in? + +MAID. +Yes, but it was no good. + +NORA. +He won’t go away? + +MAID. +No; he says he won’t until he has seen you, ma’am. + +NORA. +Well, let him come in—but quietly. Helen, you mustn’t say anything +about it to anyone. It is a surprise for my husband. + +MAID. +Yes, ma’am, I quite understand. _[Exit.]_ + +NORA. +This dreadful thing is going to happen! It will happen in spite of me! +No, no, no, it can’t happen—it shan’t happen! _[She bolts the door of +HELMER’S room. The MAID opens the hall door for KROGSTAD and shuts it +after him. He is wearing a fur coat, high boots and a fur cap.]_ + +NORA. +_[advancing towards him]_. Speak low—my husband is at home. + +KROGSTAD. +No matter about that. + +NORA. +What do you want of me? + +KROGSTAD. +An explanation of something. + +NORA. +Make haste then. What is it? + +KROGSTAD. +You know, I suppose, that I have got my dismissal. + +NORA. +I couldn’t prevent it, Mr. Krogstad. I fought as hard as I could on +your side, but it was no good. + +KROGSTAD. +Does your husband love you so little, then? He knows what I can expose +you to, and yet he ventures— + +NORA. +How can you suppose that he has any knowledge of the sort? + +KROGSTAD. +I didn’t suppose so at all. It would not be the least like our dear +Torvald Helmer to show so much courage— + +NORA. +Mr. Krogstad, a little respect for my husband, please. + +KROGSTAD. +Certainly—all the respect he deserves. But since you have kept the +matter so carefully to yourself, I make bold to suppose that you have a +little clearer idea, than you had yesterday, of what it actually is +that you have done? + +NORA. +More than you could ever teach me. + +KROGSTAD. +Yes, such a bad lawyer as I am. + +NORA. +What is it you want of me? + +KROGSTAD. +Only to see how you were, Mrs Helmer. I have been thinking about you +all day long. A mere cashier, a quill-driver, a—well, a man like +me—even he has a little of what is called feeling, you know. + +NORA. +Show it, then; think of my little children. + +KROGSTAD. +Have you and your husband thought of mine? But never mind about that. I +only wanted to tell you that you need not take this matter too +seriously. In the first place there will be no accusation made on my +part. + +NORA. +No, of course not; I was sure of that. + +KROGSTAD. +The whole thing can be arranged amicably; there is no reason why anyone +should know anything about it. It will remain a secret between us +three. + +NORA. +My husband must never get to know anything about it. + +KROGSTAD. +How will you be able to prevent it? Am I to understand that you can pay +the balance that is owing? + +NORA. +No, not just at present. + +KROGSTAD. +Or perhaps that you have some expedient for raising the money soon? + +NORA. +No expedient that I mean to make use of. + +KROGSTAD. +Well, in any case, it would have been of no use to you now. If you +stood there with ever so much money in your hand, I would never part +with your bond. + +NORA. +Tell me what purpose you mean to put it to. + +KROGSTAD. +I shall only preserve it—keep it in my possession. No one who is not +concerned in the matter shall have the slightest hint of it. So that if +the thought of it has driven you to any desperate resolution— + +NORA. +It has. + +KROGSTAD. +If you had it in your mind to run away from your home— + +NORA. +I had. + +KROGSTAD. +Or even something worse— + +NORA. +How could you know that? + +KROGSTAD. +Give up the idea. + +NORA. +How did you know I had thought of that? + +KROGSTAD. +Most of us think of that at first. I did, too—but I hadn’t the courage. + +NORA. +_[faintly]_. No more had I. + +KROGSTAD. +_[in a tone of relief]_. No, that’s it, isn’t it—you hadn’t the courage +either? + +NORA. +No, I haven’t—I haven’t. + +KROGSTAD. +Besides, it would have been a great piece of folly. Once the first +storm at home is over—. I have a letter for your husband in my pocket. + +NORA. +Telling him everything? + +KROGSTAD. +In as lenient a manner as I possibly could. + +NORA. +_[quickly]_. He mustn’t get the letter. Tear it up. I will find some +means of getting money. + +KROGSTAD. +Excuse me, Mrs Helmer, but I think I told you just now— + +NORA. +I am not speaking of what I owe you. Tell me what sum you are asking my +husband for, and I will get the money. + +KROGSTAD. +I am not asking your husband for a penny. + +NORA. +What do you want, then? + +KROGSTAD. +I will tell you. I want to rehabilitate myself, Mrs Helmer; I want to +get on; and in that your husband must help me. For the last year and a +half I have not had a hand in anything dishonourable, amid all that +time I have been struggling in most restricted circumstances. I was +content to work my way up step by step. Now I am turned out, and I am +not going to be satisfied with merely being taken into favour again. I +want to get on, I tell you. I want to get into the Bank again, in a +higher position. Your husband must make a place for me— + +NORA. +That he will never do! + +KROGSTAD. +He will; I know him; he dare not protest. And as soon as I am in there +again with him, then you will see! Within a year I shall be the +manager’s right hand. It will be Nils Krogstad and not Torvald Helmer +who manages the Bank. + +NORA. +That’s a thing you will never see! + +KROGSTAD. +Do you mean that you will—? + +NORA. +I have courage enough for it now. + +KROGSTAD. +Oh, you can’t frighten me. A fine, spoilt lady like you— + +NORA. +You will see, you will see. + +KROGSTAD. +Under the ice, perhaps? Down into the cold, coal-black water? And then, +in the spring, to float up to the surface, all horrible and +unrecognisable, with your hair fallen out— + +NORA. +You can’t frighten me. + +KROGSTAD. +Nor you me. People don’t do such things, Mrs Helmer. Besides, what use +would it be? I should have him completely in my power all the same. + +NORA. +Afterwards? When I am no longer— + +KROGSTAD. +Have you forgotten that it is I who have the keeping of your +reputation? _[NORA stands speechlessly looking at him.]_ Well, now, I +have warned you. Do not do anything foolish. When Helmer has had my +letter, I shall expect a message from him. And be sure you remember +that it is your husband himself who has forced me into such ways as +this again. I will never forgive him for that. Goodbye, Mrs Helmer. +_[Exit through the hall.]_ + +NORA. +_[goes to the hall door, opens it slightly and listens.]_ He is going. +He is not putting the letter in the box. Oh no, no! that’s impossible! +_[Opens the door by degrees.]_ What is that? He is standing outside. He +is not going downstairs. Is he hesitating? Can he—? _[A letter drops +into the box; then KROGSTAD’S footsteps are heard, until they die away +as he goes downstairs. NORA utters a stifled cry, and runs across the +room to the table by the sofa. A short pause.]_ + +NORA. +In the letter-box. _[Steals across to the hall door.]_ There it +lies—Torvald, Torvald, there is no hope for us now! + +_[Mrs Linde comes in from the room on the left, carrying the dress.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +There, I can’t see anything more to mend now. Would you like to try it +on—? + +NORA. +_[in a hoarse whisper]_. Christine, come here. + +MRS LINDE. +_[throwing the dress down on the sofa]_. What is the matter with you? +You look so agitated! + +NORA. +Come here. Do you see that letter? There, look—you can see it through +the glass in the letter-box. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, I see it. + +NORA. +That letter is from Krogstad. + +MRS LINDE. +Nora—it was Krogstad who lent you the money! + +NORA. +Yes, and now Torvald will know all about it. + +MRS LINDE. +Believe me, Nora, that’s the best thing for both of you. + +NORA. +You don’t know all. I forged a name. + +MRS LINDE. +Good heavens—! + +NORA. +I only want to say this to you, Christine—you must be my witness. + +MRS LINDE. +Your witness? What do you mean? What am I to—? + +NORA. +If I should go out of my mind—and it might easily happen— + +MRS LINDE. +Nora! + +NORA. +Or if anything else should happen to me—anything, for instance, that +might prevent my being here— + +MRS LINDE. +Nora! Nora! you are quite out of your mind. + +NORA. +And if it should happen that there were some one who wanted to take all +the responsibility, all the blame, you understand— + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, yes—but how can you suppose—? + +NORA. +Then you must be my witness, that it is not true, Christine. I am not +out of my mind at all; I am in my right senses now, and I tell you no +one else has known anything about it; I, and I alone, did the whole +thing. Remember that. + +MRS LINDE. +I will, indeed. But I don’t understand all this. + +NORA. +How should you understand it? A wonderful thing is going to happen! + +MRS LINDE. +A wonderful thing? + +NORA. +Yes, a wonderful thing!—But it is so terrible, Christine; it mustn’t +happen, not for all the world. + +MRS LINDE. +I will go at once and see Krogstad. + +NORA. +Don’t go to him; he will do you some harm. + +MRS LINDE. +There was a time when he would gladly do anything for my sake. + +NORA. +He? + +MRS LINDE. +Where does he live? + +NORA. +How should I know—? Yes _[feeling in her pocket]_, here is his card. +But the letter, the letter—! + +HELMER. +_[calls from his room, knocking at the door]_. Nora! + +NORA. +_[cries out anxiously]_. Oh, what’s that? What do you want? + +HELMER. +Don’t be so frightened. We are not coming in; you have locked the door. +Are you trying on your dress? + +NORA. +Yes, that’s it. I look so nice, Torvald. + +MRS LINDE. +_[who has read the card]_. I see he lives at the corner here. + +NORA. +Yes, but it’s no use. It is hopeless. The letter is lying there in the +box. + +MRS LINDE. +And your husband keeps the key? + +NORA. +Yes, always. + +MRS LINDE. +Krogstad must ask for his letter back unread, he must find some +pretence— + +NORA. +But it is just at this time that Torvald generally— + +MRS LINDE. +You must delay him. Go in to him in the meantime. I will come back as +soon as I can. _[She goes out hurriedly through the hall door.]_ + +NORA. +_[goes to HELMER’S door, opens it and peeps in]_. Torvald! + +HELMER. +_[from the inner room]_. Well? May I venture at last to come into my +own room again? Come along, Rank, now you will see— _[Halting in the +doorway.]_ But what is this? + +NORA. +What is what, dear? + +HELMER. +Rank led me to expect a splendid transformation. + +RANK. +_[in the doorway]_. I understood so, but evidently I was mistaken. + +NORA. +Yes, nobody is to have the chance of admiring me in my dress until +tomorrow. + +HELMER. +But, my dear Nora, you look so worn out. Have you been practising too +much? + +NORA. +No, I have not practised at all. + +HELMER. +But you will need to— + +NORA. +Yes, indeed I shall, Torvald. But I can’t get on a bit without you to +help me; I have absolutely forgotten the whole thing. + +HELMER. +Oh, we will soon work it up again. + +NORA. +Yes, help me, Torvald. Promise that you will! I am so nervous about +it—all the people—. You must give yourself up to me entirely this +evening. Not the tiniest bit of business—you mustn’t even take a pen in +your hand. Will you promise, Torvald dear? + +HELMER. +I promise. This evening I will be wholly and absolutely at your +service, you helpless little mortal. Ah, by the way, first of all I +will just— _[Goes towards the hall door.]_ + +NORA. +What are you going to do there? + +HELMER. +Only see if any letters have come. + +NORA. +No, no! don’t do that, Torvald! + +HELMER. +Why not? + +NORA. +Torvald, please don’t. There is nothing there. + +HELMER. +Well, let me look. _[Turns to go to the letter-box. NORA, at the piano, +plays the first bars of the Tarantella. HELMER stops in the doorway.]_ +Aha! + +NORA. +I can’t dance tomorrow if I don’t practise with you. + +HELMER. +_[going up to her]_. Are you really so afraid of it, dear? + +NORA. +Yes, so dreadfully afraid of it. Let me practise at once; there is time +now, before we go to dinner. Sit down and play for me, Torvald dear; +criticise me, and correct me as you play. + +HELMER. +With great pleasure, if you wish me to. _[Sits down at the piano.]_ + +NORA. +_[takes out of the box a tambourine and a long variegated shawl. She +hastily drapes the shawl round her. Then she springs to the front of +the stage and calls out]_. Now play for me! I am going to dance! + +_[HELMER plays and NORA dances. RANK stands by the piano behind HELMER, +and looks on.]_ + +HELMER. +_[as he plays]_. Slower, slower! + +NORA. +I can’t do it any other way. + +HELMER. +Not so violently, Nora! + +NORA. +This is the way. + +HELMER. +_[stops playing]_. No, no—that is not a bit right. + +NORA. +_[laughing and swinging the tambourine]_. Didn’t I tell you so? + +RANK. +Let me play for her. + +HELMER. +_[getting up]_. Yes, do. I can correct her better then. + +_[RANK sits down at the piano and plays. NORA dances more and more +wildly. HELMER has taken up a position beside the stove, and during her +dance gives her frequent instructions. She does not seem to hear him; +her hair comes down and falls over her shoulders; she pays no attention +to it, but goes on dancing. Enter Mrs Linde.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +_[standing as if spell-bound in the doorway]_. Oh!— + +NORA. +_[as she dances]_. Such fun, Christine! + +HELMER. +My dear darling Nora, you are dancing as if your life depended on it. + +NORA. +So it does. + +HELMER. +Stop, Rank; this is sheer madness. Stop, I tell you! _[RANK stops +playing, and NORA suddenly stands still. HELMER goes up to her.]_ I +could never have believed it. You have forgotten everything I taught +you. + +NORA. +_[throwing away the tambourine]_. There, you see. + +HELMER. +You will want a lot of coaching. + +NORA. +Yes, you see how much I need it. You must coach me up to the last +minute. Promise me that, Torvald! + +HELMER. +You can depend on me. + +NORA. +You must not think of anything but me, either today or tomorrow; you +mustn’t open a single letter—not even open the letter-box— + +HELMER. +Ah, you are still afraid of that fellow— + +NORA. +Yes, indeed I am. + +HELMER. +Nora, I can tell from your looks that there is a letter from him lying +there. + +NORA. +I don’t know; I think there is; but you must not read anything of that +kind now. Nothing horrid must come between us until this is all over. + +RANK. +_[whispers to HELMER]_. You mustn’t contradict her. + +HELMER. +_[taking her in his arms]_. The child shall have her way. But tomorrow +night, after you have danced— + +NORA. +Then you will be free. _[The MAID appears in the doorway to the +right.]_ + +MAID. +Dinner is served, ma’am. + +NORA. +We will have champagne, Helen. + +MAID. +Very good, ma’am. [Exit. + +HELMER. +Hullo!—are we going to have a banquet? + +NORA. +Yes, a champagne banquet until the small hours. _[Calls out.]_ And a +few macaroons, Helen—lots, just for once! + +HELMER. +Come, come, don’t be so wild and nervous. Be my own little skylark, as +you used. + +NORA. +Yes, dear, I will. But go in now and you too, Doctor Rank. Christine, +you must help me to do up my hair. + +RANK. +_[whispers to HELMER as they go out]_. I suppose there is nothing—she +is not expecting anything? + +HELMER. +Far from it, my dear fellow; it is simply nothing more than this +childish nervousness I was telling you of. _[They go into the +right-hand room.]_ + +NORA. +Well! + +MRS LINDE. +Gone out of town. + +NORA. +I could tell from your face. + +MRS LINDE. +He is coming home tomorrow evening. I wrote a note for him. + +NORA. +You should have let it alone; you must prevent nothing. After all, it +is splendid to be waiting for a wonderful thing to happen. + +MRS LINDE. +What is it that you are waiting for? + +NORA. +Oh, you wouldn’t understand. Go in to them, I will come in a moment. +_[Mrs Linde goes into the dining-room. NORA stands still for a little +while, as if to compose herself. Then she looks at her watch.]_ Five +o’clock. Seven hours until midnight; and then four-and-twenty hours +until the next midnight. Then the Tarantella will be over. Twenty-four +and seven? Thirty-one hours to live. + +HELMER. +_[from the doorway on the right]_. Where’s my little skylark? + +NORA. +_[going to him with her arms outstretched]_. Here she is! + + + + +ACT III + + +_[THE SAME SCENE.—The table has been placed in the middle of the stage, +with chairs around it. A lamp is burning on the table. The door into +the hall stands open. Dance music is heard in the room above. Mrs Linde +is sitting at the table idly turning over the leaves of a book; she +tries to read, but does not seem able to collect her thoughts. Every +now and then she listens intently for a sound at the outer door.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +_[looking at her watch]_. Not yet—and the time is nearly up. If only he +does not—. _[Listens again.]_ Ah, there he is. _[Goes into the hall and +opens the outer door carefully. Light footsteps are heard on the +stairs. She whispers.]_ Come in. There is no one here. + +KROGSTAD. +_[in the doorway]_. I found a note from you at home. What does this +mean? + +MRS LINDE. +It is absolutely necessary that I should have a talk with you. + +KROGSTAD. +Really? And is it absolutely necessary that it should be here? + +MRS LINDE. +It is impossible where I live; there is no private entrance to my +rooms. Come in; we are quite alone. The maid is asleep, and the Helmers +are at the dance upstairs. + +KROGSTAD. +_[coming into the room]_. Are the Helmers really at a dance tonight? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, why not? + +KROGSTAD. +Certainly—why not? + +MRS LINDE. +Now, Nils, let us have a talk. + +KROGSTAD. +Can we two have anything to talk about? + +MRS LINDE. +We have a great deal to talk about. + +KROGSTAD. +I shouldn’t have thought so. + +MRS LINDE. +No, you have never properly understood me. + +KROGSTAD. +Was there anything else to understand except what was obvious to all +the world—a heartless woman jilts a man when a more lucrative chance +turns up? + +MRS LINDE. +Do you believe I am as absolutely heartless as all that? And do you +believe that I did it with a light heart? + +KROGSTAD. +Didn’t you? + +MRS LINDE. +Nils, did you really think that? + +KROGSTAD. +If it were as you say, why did you write to me as you did at the time? + +MRS LINDE. +I could do nothing else. As I had to break with you, it was my duty +also to put an end to all that you felt for me. + +KROGSTAD. +_[wringing his hands]_. So that was it. And all this—only for the sake +of money! + +MRS LINDE. +You must not forget that I had a helpless mother and two little +brothers. We couldn’t wait for you, Nils; your prospects seemed +hopeless then. + +KROGSTAD. +That may be so, but you had no right to throw me over for anyone else’s +sake. + +MRS LINDE. +Indeed I don’t know. Many a time did I ask myself if I had the right to +do it. + +KROGSTAD. +_[more gently]_. When I lost you, it was as if all the solid ground +went from under my feet. Look at me now—I am a shipwrecked man clinging +to a bit of wreckage. + +MRS LINDE. +But help may be near. + +KROGSTAD. +It was near; but then you came and stood in my way. + +MRS LINDE. +Unintentionally, Nils. It was only today that I learned it was your +place I was going to take in the Bank. + +KROGSTAD. +I believe you, if you say so. But now that you know it, are you not +going to give it up to me? + +MRS LINDE. +No, because that would not benefit you in the least. + +KROGSTAD. +Oh, benefit, benefit—I would have done it whether or no. + +MRS LINDE. +I have learned to act prudently. Life, and hard, bitter necessity have +taught me that. + +KROGSTAD. +And life has taught me not to believe in fine speeches. + +MRS LINDE. +Then life has taught you something very reasonable. But deeds you must +believe in? + +KROGSTAD. +What do you mean by that? + +MRS LINDE. +You said you were like a shipwrecked man clinging to some wreckage. + +KROGSTAD. +I had good reason to say so. + +MRS LINDE. +Well, I am like a shipwrecked woman clinging to some wreckage—no one to +mourn for, no one to care for. + +KROGSTAD. +It was your own choice. + +MRS LINDE. +There was no other choice—then. + +KROGSTAD. +Well, what now? + +MRS LINDE. +Nils, how would it be if we two shipwrecked people could join forces? + +KROGSTAD. +What are you saying? + +MRS LINDE. +Two on the same piece of wreckage would stand a better chance than each +on their own. + +KROGSTAD. +Christine I... + +MRS LINDE. +What do you suppose brought me to town? + +KROGSTAD. +Do you mean that you gave me a thought? + +MRS LINDE. +I could not endure life without work. All my life, as long as I can +remember, I have worked, and it has been my greatest and only pleasure. +But now I am quite alone in the world—my life is so dreadfully empty +and I feel so forsaken. There is not the least pleasure in working for +one’s self. Nils, give me someone and something to work for. + +KROGSTAD. +I don’t trust that. It is nothing but a woman’s overstrained sense of +generosity that prompts you to make such an offer of yourself. + +MRS LINDE. +Have you ever noticed anything of the sort in me? + +KROGSTAD. +Could you really do it? Tell me—do you know all about my past life? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes. + +KROGSTAD. +And do you know what they think of me here? + +MRS LINDE. +You seemed to me to imply that with me you might have been quite +another man. + +KROGSTAD. +I am certain of it. + +MRS LINDE. +Is it too late now? + +KROGSTAD. +Christine, are you saying this deliberately? Yes, I am sure you are. I +see it in your face. Have you really the courage, then—? + +MRS LINDE. +I want to be a mother to someone, and your children need a mother. We +two need each other. Nils, I have faith in your real character—I can +dare anything together with you. + +KROGSTAD. +_[grasps her hands]_. Thanks, thanks, Christine! Now I shall find a way +to clear myself in the eyes of the world. Ah, but I forgot— + +MRS LINDE. +_[listening]_. Hush! The Tarantella! Go, go! + +KROGSTAD. +Why? What is it? + +MRS LINDE. +Do you hear them up there? When that is over, we may expect them back. + +KROGSTAD. +Yes, yes—I will go. But it is all no use. Of course you are not aware +what steps I have taken in the matter of the Helmers. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, I know all about that. + +KROGSTAD. +And in spite of that have you the courage to—? + +MRS LINDE. +I understand very well to what lengths a man like you might be driven +by despair. + +KROGSTAD. +If I could only undo what I have done! + +MRS LINDE. +You cannot. Your letter is lying in the letter-box now. + +KROGSTAD. +Are you sure of that? + +MRS LINDE. +Quite sure, but— + +KROGSTAD. +_[with a searching look at her]_. Is that what it all means?—that you +want to save your friend at any cost? Tell me frankly. Is that it? + +MRS LINDE. +Nils, a woman who has once sold herself for another’s sake, doesn’t do +it a second time. + +KROGSTAD. +I will ask for my letter back. + +MRS LINDE. +No, no. + +KROGSTAD. +Yes, of course I will. I will wait here until Helmer comes; I will tell +him he must give me my letter back—that it only concerns my +dismissal—that he is not to read it— + +MRS LINDE. +No, Nils, you must not recall your letter. + +KROGSTAD. +But, tell me, wasn’t it for that very purpose that you asked me to meet +you here? + +MRS LINDE. +In my first moment of fright, it was. But twenty-four hours have +elapsed since then, and in that time I have witnessed incredible things +in this house. Helmer must know all about it. This unhappy secret must +be disclosed; they must have a complete understanding between them, +which is impossible with all this concealment and falsehood going on. + +KROGSTAD. +Very well, if you will take the responsibility. But there is one thing +I can do in any case, and I shall do it at once. + +MRS LINDE. +_[listening]_. You must be quick and go! The dance is over; we are not +safe a moment longer. + +KROGSTAD. +I will wait for you below. + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, do. You must see me back to my door... + +KROGSTAD. +I have never had such an amazing piece of good fortune in my life! +_[Goes out through the outer door. The door between the room and the +hall remains open.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +_[tidying up the room and laying her hat and cloak ready]_. What a +difference! what a difference! Someone to work for and live for—a home +to bring comfort into. That I will do, indeed. I wish they would be +quick and come—_[Listens.]_ Ah, there they are now. I must put on my +things. _[Takes up her hat and cloak. HELMER’S and NORA’S voices are +heard outside; a key is turned, and HELMER brings NORA almost by force +into the hall. She is in an Italian costume with a large black shawl +around her; he is in evening dress, and a black domino which is flying +open.]_ + +NORA. +_[hanging back in the doorway, and struggling with him]_. No, no, +no!—don’t take me in. I want to go upstairs again; I don’t want to +leave so early. + +HELMER. +But, my dearest Nora— + +NORA. +Please, Torvald dear—please, please—only an hour more. + +HELMER. +Not a single minute, my sweet Nora. You know that was our agreement. +Come along into the room; you are catching cold standing there. _[He +brings her gently into the room, in spite of her resistance.]_ + +MRS LINDE. +Good evening. + +NORA. +Christine! + +HELMER. +You here, so late, Mrs Linde? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, you must excuse me; I was so anxious to see Nora in her dress. + +NORA. +Have you been sitting here waiting for me? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, unfortunately I came too late, you had already gone upstairs; and +I thought I couldn’t go away again without having seen you. + +HELMER. +_[taking off NORA’S shawl]_. Yes, take a good look at her. I think she +is worth looking at. Isn’t she charming, Mrs Linde? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, indeed she is. + +HELMER. +Doesn’t she look remarkably pretty? Everyone thought so at the dance. +But she is terribly self-willed, this sweet little person. What are we +to do with her? You will hardly believe that I had almost to bring her +away by force. + +NORA. +Torvald, you will repent not having let me stay, even if it were only +for half an hour. + +HELMER. +Listen to her, Mrs Linde! She had danced her Tarantella, and it had +been a tremendous success, as it deserved—although possibly the +performance was a trifle too realistic—a little more so, I mean, than +was strictly compatible with the limitations of art. But never mind +about that! The chief thing is, she had made a success—she had made a +tremendous success. Do you think I was going to let her remain there +after that, and spoil the effect? No, indeed! I took my charming little +Capri maiden—my capricious little Capri maiden, I should say—on my arm; +took one quick turn round the room; a curtsey on either side, and, as +they say in novels, the beautiful apparition disappeared. An exit ought +always to be effective, Mrs Linde; but that is what I cannot make Nora +understand. Pooh! this room is hot. _[Throws his domino on a chair, and +opens the door of his room.]_ Hullo! it’s all dark in here. Oh, of +course—excuse me—. _[He goes in, and lights some candles.]_ + +NORA. +_[in a hurried and breathless whisper]_. Well? + +MRS LINDE. +_[in a low voice]_. I have had a talk with him. + +NORA. +Yes, and— + +MRS LINDE. +Nora, you must tell your husband all about it. + +NORA. +_[in an expressionless voice]_. I knew it. + +MRS LINDE. +You have nothing to be afraid of as far as Krogstad is concerned; but +you must tell him. + +NORA. +I won’t tell him. + +MRS LINDE. +Then the letter will. + +NORA. +Thank you, Christine. Now I know what I must do. Hush—! + +HELMER. +_[coming in again]_. Well, Mrs Linde, have you admired her? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, and now I will say goodnight. + +HELMER. +What, already? Is this yours, this knitting? + +MRS LINDE. +_[taking it]_. Yes, thank you, I had very nearly forgotten it. + +HELMER. +So you knit? + +MRS LINDE. +Of course. + +HELMER. +Do you know, you ought to embroider. + +MRS LINDE. +Really? Why? + +HELMER. +Yes, it’s far more becoming. Let me show you. You hold the embroidery +thus in your left hand, and use the needle with the right—like +this—with a long, easy sweep. Do you see? + +MRS LINDE. +Yes, perhaps— + +HELMER. +But in the case of knitting—that can never be anything but ungraceful; +look here—the arms close together, the knitting-needles going up and +down—it has a sort of Chinese effect—. That was really excellent +champagne they gave us. + +MRS LINDE. +Well,—goodnight, Nora, and don’t be self-willed any more. + +HELMER. +That’s right, Mrs Linde. + +MRS LINDE. +Goodnight, Mr. Helmer. + +HELMER. +_[accompanying her to the door]_. Goodnight, goodnight. I hope you will +get home all right. I should be very happy to—but you haven’t any great +distance to go. Goodnight, goodnight. _[She goes out; he shuts the door +after her, and comes in again.]_ Ah!—at last we have got rid of her. +She is a frightful bore, that woman. + +NORA. +Aren’t you very tired, Torvald? + +HELMER. +No, not in the least. + +NORA. +Nor sleepy? + +HELMER. +Not a bit. On the contrary, I feel extraordinarily lively. And you?—you +really look both tired and sleepy. + +NORA. +Yes, I am very tired. I want to go to sleep at once. + +HELMER. +There, you see it was quite right of me not to let you stay there any +longer. + +NORA. +Everything you do is quite right, Torvald. + +HELMER. +_[kissing her on the forehead]_. Now my little skylark is speaking +reasonably. Did you notice what good spirits Rank was in this evening? + +NORA. +Really? Was he? I didn’t speak to him at all. + +HELMER. +And I very little, but I have not for a long time seen him in such good +form. _[Looks for a while at her and then goes nearer to her.]_ It is +delightful to be at home by ourselves again, to be all alone with +you—you fascinating, charming little darling! + +NORA. +Don’t look at me like that, Torvald. + +HELMER. +Why shouldn’t I look at my dearest treasure?—at all the beauty that is +mine, all my very own? + +NORA. +_[going to the other side of the table]_. You mustn’t say things like +that to me tonight. + +HELMER. +_[following her]_. You have still got the Tarantella in your blood, I +see. And it makes you more captivating than ever. Listen—the guests are +beginning to go now. _[In a lower voice.]_ Nora—soon the whole house +will be quiet. + +NORA. +Yes, I hope so. + +HELMER. +Yes, my own darling Nora. Do you know, when I am out at a party with +you like this, why I speak so little to you, keep away from you, and +only send a stolen glance in your direction now and then?—do you know +why I do that? It is because I make believe to myself that we are +secretly in love, and you are my secretly promised bride, and that no +one suspects there is anything between us. + +NORA. +Yes, yes—I know very well your thoughts are with me all the time. + +HELMER. +And when we are leaving, and I am putting the shawl over your beautiful +young shoulders—on your lovely neck—then I imagine that you are my +young bride and that we have just come from the wedding, and I am +bringing you for the first time into our home—to be alone with you for +the first time—quite alone with my shy little darling! All this evening +I have longed for nothing but you. When I watched the seductive figures +of the Tarantella, my blood was on fire; I could endure it no longer, +and that was why I brought you down so early— + +NORA. +Go away, Torvald! You must let me go. I won’t— + +HELMER. +What’s that? You’re joking, my little Nora! You won’t—you won’t? Am I +not your husband—? _[A knock is heard at the outer door.]_ + +NORA. +_[starting]_. Did you hear—? + +HELMER. +_[going into the hall]_. Who is it? + +RANK. +_[outside]_. It is I. May I come in for a moment? + +HELMER. +_[in a fretful whisper]_. Oh, what does he want now? _[Aloud.]_ Wait a +minute! _[Unlocks the door.]_ Come, that’s kind of you not to pass by +our door. + +RANK. +I thought I heard your voice, and felt as if I should like to look in. +_[With a swift glance round.]_ Ah, yes!—these dear familiar rooms. You +are very happy and cosy in here, you two. + +HELMER. +It seems to me that you looked after yourself pretty well upstairs too. + +RANK. +Excellently. Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t one enjoy everything in +this world?—at any rate as much as one can, and as long as one can. The +wine was capital— + +HELMER. +Especially the champagne. + +RANK. +So you noticed that too? It is almost incredible how much I managed to +put away! + +NORA. +Torvald drank a great deal of champagne tonight too. + +RANK. +Did he? + +NORA. +Yes, and he is always in such good spirits afterwards. + +RANK. +Well, why should one not enjoy a merry evening after a well-spent day? + +HELMER. +Well spent? I am afraid I can’t take credit for that. + +RANK. +_[clapping him on the back]_. But I can, you know! + +NORA. +Doctor Rank, you must have been occupied with some scientific +investigation today. + +RANK. +Exactly. + +HELMER. +Just listen!—little Nora talking about scientific investigations! + +NORA. +And may I congratulate you on the result? + +RANK. +Indeed you may. + +NORA. +Was it favourable, then? + +RANK. +The best possible, for both doctor and patient—certainty. + +NORA. +_[quickly and searchingly]_. Certainty? + +RANK. +Absolute certainty. So wasn’t I entitled to make a merry evening of it +after that? + +NORA. +Yes, you certainly were, Doctor Rank. + +HELMER. +I think so too, so long as you don’t have to pay for it in the morning. + +RANK. +Oh well, one can’t have anything in this life without paying for it. + +NORA. +Doctor Rank—are you fond of fancy-dress balls? + +RANK. +Yes, if there is a fine lot of pretty costumes. + +NORA. +Tell me—what shall we two wear at the next? + +HELMER. +Little featherbrain!—are you thinking of the next already? + +RANK. +We two? Yes, I can tell you. You shall go as a good fairy— + +HELMER. +Yes, but what do you suggest as an appropriate costume for that? + +RANK. +Let your wife go dressed just as she is in everyday life. + +HELMER. +That was really very prettily turned. But can’t you tell us what you +will be? + +RANK. +Yes, my dear friend, I have quite made up my mind about that. + +HELMER. +Well? + +RANK. +At the next fancy-dress ball I shall be invisible. + +HELMER. +That’s a good joke! + +RANK. +There is a big black hat—have you never heard of hats that make you +invisible? If you put one on, no one can see you. + +HELMER. +_[suppressing a smile]_. Yes, you are quite right. + +RANK. +But I am clean forgetting what I came for. Helmer, give me a cigar—one +of the dark Havanas. + +HELMER. +With the greatest pleasure. _[Offers him his case.]_ + +RANK. +_[takes a cigar and cuts off the end]_. Thanks. + +NORA. +_[striking a match]_. Let me give you a light. + +RANK. +Thank you. _[She holds the match for him to light his cigar.]_ And now +goodbye! + +HELMER. +Goodbye, goodbye, dear old man! + +NORA. +Sleep well, Doctor Rank. + +RANK. +Thank you for that wish. + +NORA. +Wish me the same. + +RANK. +You? Well, if you want me to sleep well! And thanks for the light. _[He +nods to them both and goes out.]_ + +HELMER. +_[in a subdued voice]_. He has drunk more than he ought. + +NORA. +_[absently]_. Maybe. _[HELMER takes a bunch of keys out of his pocket +and goes into the hall.]_ Torvald! what are you going to do there? + +HELMER. +Emptying the letter-box; it is quite full; there will be no room to put +the newspaper in tomorrow morning. + +NORA. +Are you going to work tonight? + +HELMER. +You know quite well I’m not. What is this? Someone has been at the +lock. + +NORA. +At the lock—? + +HELMER. +Yes, someone has. What can it mean? I should never have thought the +maid—. Here is a broken hairpin. Nora, it is one of yours. + +NORA. +_[quickly]_. Then it must have been the children— + +HELMER. +Then you must get them out of those ways. There, at last I have got it +open. _[Takes out the contents of the letter-box, and calls to the +kitchen.]_ Helen!—Helen, put out the light over the front door. _[Goes +back into the room and shuts the door into the hall. He holds out his +hand full of letters.]_ Look at that—look what a heap of them there +are. _[Turning them over.]_ What on earth is that? + +NORA. +_[at the window]_. The letter—No! Torvald, no! + +HELMER. +Two cards—of Rank’s. + +NORA. +Of Doctor Rank’s? + +HELMER. +_[looking at them]_. Doctor Rank. They were on the top. He must have +put them in when he went out. + +NORA. +Is there anything written on them? + +HELMER. +There is a black cross over the name. Look there—what an uncomfortable +idea! It looks as if he were announcing his own death. + +NORA. +It is just what he is doing. + +HELMER. +What? Do you know anything about it? Has he said anything to you? + +NORA. +Yes. He told me that when the cards came it would be his leave-taking +from us. He means to shut himself up and die. + +HELMER. +My poor old friend! Certainly I knew we should not have him very long +with us. But so soon! And so he hides himself away like a wounded +animal. + +NORA. +If it has to happen, it is best it should be without a word—don’t you +think so, Torvald? + +HELMER. +_[walking up and down]_. He had so grown into our lives. I can’t think +of him as having gone out of them. He, with his sufferings and his +loneliness, was like a cloudy background to our sunlit happiness. Well, +perhaps it is best so. For him, anyway. _[Standing still.]_ And perhaps +for us too, Nora. We two are thrown quite upon each other now. _[Puts +his arms round her.]_ My darling wife, I don’t feel as if I could hold +you tight enough. Do you know, Nora, I have often wished that you might +be threatened by some great danger, so that I might risk my life’s +blood, and everything, for your sake. + +NORA. +_[disengages herself, and says firmly and decidedly]_. Now you must +read your letters, Torvald. + +HELMER. +No, no; not tonight. I want to be with you, my darling wife. + +NORA. +With the thought of your friend’s death— + +HELMER. +You are right, it has affected us both. Something ugly has come between +us—the thought of the horrors of death. We must try and rid our minds +of that. Until then—we will each go to our own room. + +NORA. +_[hanging on his neck]_. Goodnight, Torvald—Goodnight! + +HELMER. +_[kissing her on the forehead]_. Goodnight, my little singing-bird. +Sleep sound, Nora. Now I will read my letters through. _[He takes his +letters and goes into his room, shutting the door after him.]_ + +NORA. +_[gropes distractedly about, seizes HELMER’S domino, throws it round +her, while she says in quick, hoarse, spasmodic whispers]_. Never to +see him again. Never! Never! _[Puts her shawl over her head.]_ Never to +see my children again either—never again. Never! Never!—Ah! the icy, +black water—the unfathomable depths—If only it were over! He has got it +now—now he is reading it. Goodbye, Torvald and my children! _[She is +about to rush out through the hall, when HELMER opens his door +hurriedly and stands with an open letter in his hand.]_ + +HELMER. +Nora! + +NORA. +Ah!— + +HELMER. +What is this? Do you know what is in this letter? + +NORA. +Yes, I know. Let me go! Let me get out! + +HELMER. +_[holding her back]_. Where are you going? + +NORA. +_[trying to get free]_. You shan’t save me, Torvald! + +HELMER. +_[reeling]_. True? Is this true, that I read here? Horrible! No, no—it +is impossible that it can be true. + +NORA. +It is true. I have loved you above everything else in the world. + +HELMER. +Oh, don’t let us have any silly excuses. + +NORA. +_[taking a step towards him]_. Torvald—! + +HELMER. +Miserable creature—what have you done? + +NORA. +Let me go. You shall not suffer for my sake. You shall not take it upon +yourself. + +HELMER. +No tragic airs, please. _[Locks the hall door.]_ Here you shall stay +and give me an explanation. Do you understand what you have done? +Answer me! Do you understand what you have done? + +NORA. +_[looks steadily at him and says with a growing look of coldness in her +face]_. Yes, now I am beginning to understand thoroughly. + +HELMER. +_[walking about the room]_. What a horrible awakening! All these eight +years—she who was my joy and pride—a hypocrite, a liar—worse, worse—a +criminal! The unutterable ugliness of it all!—For shame! For shame! +_[NORA is silent and looks steadily at him. He stops in front of her.]_ +I ought to have suspected that something of the sort would happen. I +ought to have foreseen it. All your father’s want of principle—be +silent!—all your father’s want of principle has come out in you. No +religion, no morality, no sense of duty—. How I am punished for having +winked at what he did! I did it for your sake, and this is how you +repay me. + +NORA. +Yes, that’s just it. + +HELMER. +Now you have destroyed all my happiness. You have ruined all my future. +It is horrible to think of! I am in the power of an unscrupulous man; +he can do what he likes with me, ask anything he likes of me, give me +any orders he pleases—I dare not refuse. And I must sink to such +miserable depths because of a thoughtless woman! + +NORA. +When I am out of the way, you will be free. + +HELMER. +No fine speeches, please. Your father had always plenty of those ready, +too. What good would it be to me if you were out of the way, as you +say? Not the slightest. He can make the affair known everywhere; and if +he does, I may be falsely suspected of having been a party to your +criminal action. Very likely people will think I was behind it all—that +it was I who prompted you! And I have to thank you for all this—you +whom I have cherished during the whole of our married life. Do you +understand now what it is you have done for me? + +NORA. +_[coldly and quietly]_. Yes. + +HELMER. +It is so incredible that I can’t take it in. But we must come to some +understanding. Take off that shawl. Take it off, I tell you. I must try +and appease him some way or another. The matter must be hushed up at +any cost. And as for you and me, it must appear as if everything +between us were just as before—but naturally only in the eyes of the +world. You will still remain in my house, that is a matter of course. +But I shall not allow you to bring up the children; I dare not trust +them to you. To think that I should be obliged to say so to one whom I +have loved so dearly, and whom I still—. No, that is all over. From +this moment happiness is not the question; all that concerns us is to +save the remains, the fragments, the appearance— + +_[A ring is heard at the front-door bell.]_ + +HELMER. +_[with a start]_. What is that? So late! Can the worst—? Can he—? Hide +yourself, Nora. Say you are ill. + +_[NORA stands motionless. HELMER goes and unlocks the hall door.]_ + +MAID. +_[half-dressed, comes to the door]_. A letter for the mistress. + +HELMER. +Give it to me. _[Takes the letter, and shuts the door.]_ Yes, it is +from him. You shall not have it; I will read it myself. + +NORA. +Yes, read it. + +HELMER. +_[standing by the lamp]_. I scarcely have the courage to do it. It may +mean ruin for both of us. No, I must know. _[Tears open the letter, +runs his eye over a few lines, looks at a paper enclosed, and gives a +shout of joy.]_ Nora! _[She looks at him questioningly.]_ Nora!—No, I +must read it once again—. Yes, it is true! I am saved! Nora, I am +saved! + +NORA. +And I? + +HELMER. +You too, of course; we are both saved, both you and I. Look, he sends +you your bond back. He says he regrets and repents—that a happy change +in his life—never mind what he says! We are saved, Nora! No one can do +anything to you. Oh, Nora, Nora!—no, first I must destroy these hateful +things. Let me see—. _[Takes a look at the bond.]_ No, no, I won’t look +at it. The whole thing shall be nothing but a bad dream to me. _[Tears +up the bond and both letters, throws them all into the stove, and +watches them burn.]_ There—now it doesn’t exist any longer. He says +that since Christmas Eve you—. These must have been three dreadful days +for you, Nora. + +NORA. +I have fought a hard fight these three days. + +HELMER. +And suffered agonies, and seen no way out but—. No, we won’t call any +of the horrors to mind. We will only shout with joy, and keep saying, +“It’s all over! It’s all over!” Listen to me, Nora. You don’t seem to +realise that it is all over. What is this?—such a cold, set face! My +poor little Nora, I quite understand; you don’t feel as if you could +believe that I have forgiven you. But it is true, Nora, I swear it; I +have forgiven you everything. I know that what you did, you did out of +love for me. + +NORA. +That is true. + +HELMER. +You have loved me as a wife ought to love her husband. Only you had not +sufficient knowledge to judge of the means you used. But do you suppose +you are any the less dear to me, because you don’t understand how to +act on your own responsibility? No, no; only lean on me; I will advise +you and direct you. I should not be a man if this womanly helplessness +did not just give you a double attractiveness in my eyes. You must not +think anymore about the hard things I said in my first moment of +consternation, when I thought everything was going to overwhelm me. I +have forgiven you, Nora; I swear to you I have forgiven you. + +NORA. +Thank you for your forgiveness. _[She goes out through the door to the +right.]_ + +HELMER. +No, don’t go—. _[Looks in.]_ What are you doing in there? + +NORA. +_[from within]_. Taking off my fancy dress. + +HELMER. +_[standing at the open door]_. Yes, do. Try and calm yourself, and make +your mind easy again, my frightened little singing-bird. Be at rest, +and feel secure; I have broad wings to shelter you under. _[Walks up +and down by the door.]_ How warm and cosy our home is, Nora. Here is +shelter for you; here I will protect you like a hunted dove that I have +saved from a hawk’s claws; I will bring peace to your poor beating +heart. It will come, little by little, Nora, believe me. Tomorrow +morning you will look upon it all quite differently; soon everything +will be just as it was before. Very soon you won’t need me to assure +you that I have forgiven you; you will yourself feel the certainty that +I have done so. Can you suppose I should ever think of such a thing as +repudiating you, or even reproaching you? You have no idea what a true +man’s heart is like, Nora. There is something so indescribably sweet +and satisfying, to a man, in the knowledge that he has forgiven his +wife—forgiven her freely, and with all his heart. It seems as if that +had made her, as it were, doubly his own; he has given her a new life, +so to speak; and she has in a way become both wife and child to him. So +you shall be for me after this, my little scared, helpless darling. +Have no anxiety about anything, Nora; only be frank and open with me, +and I will serve as will and conscience both to you—. What is this? Not +gone to bed? Have you changed your things? + +NORA. +_[in everyday dress]_. Yes, Torvald, I have changed my things now. + +HELMER. +But what for?—so late as this. + +NORA. +I shall not sleep tonight. + +HELMER. +But, my dear Nora— + +NORA. +_[looking at her watch]_. It is not so very late. Sit down here, +Torvald. You and I have much to say to one another. _[She sits down at +one side of the table.]_ + +HELMER. +Nora—what is this?—this cold, set face? + +NORA. +Sit down. It will take some time; I have a lot to talk over with you. + +HELMER. +_[sits down at the opposite side of the table]_. You alarm me, +Nora!—and I don’t understand you. + +NORA. +No, that is just it. You don’t understand me, and I have never +understood you either—before tonight. No, you mustn’t interrupt me. You +must simply listen to what I say. Torvald, this is a settling of +accounts. + +HELMER. +What do you mean by that? + +NORA. +_[after a short silence]_. Isn’t there one thing that strikes you as +strange in our sitting here like this? + +HELMER. +What is that? + +NORA. +We have been married now eight years. Does it not occur to you that +this is the first time we two, you and I, husband and wife, have had a +serious conversation? + +HELMER. +What do you mean by serious? + +NORA. +In all these eight years—longer than that—from the very beginning of +our acquaintance, we have never exchanged a word on any serious +subject. + +HELMER. +Was it likely that I would be continually and forever telling you about +worries that you could not help me to bear? + +NORA. +I am not speaking about business matters. I say that we have never sat +down in earnest together to try and get at the bottom of anything. + +HELMER. +But, dearest Nora, would it have been any good to you? + +NORA. +That is just it; you have never understood me. I have been greatly +wronged, Torvald—first by papa and then by you. + +HELMER. +What! By us two—by us two, who have loved you better than anyone else +in the world? + +NORA. +_[shaking her head]_. You have never loved me. You have only thought it +pleasant to be in love with me. + +HELMER. +Nora, what do I hear you saying? + +NORA. +It is perfectly true, Torvald. When I was at home with papa, he told me +his opinion about everything, and so I had the same opinions; and if I +differed from him I concealed the fact, because he would not have liked +it. He called me his doll-child, and he played with me just as I used +to play with my dolls. And when I came to live with you— + +HELMER. +What sort of an expression is that to use about our marriage? + +NORA. +_[undisturbed]_. I mean that I was simply transferred from papa’s hands +into yours. You arranged everything according to your own taste, and so +I got the same tastes as you—or else I pretended to, I am really not +quite sure which—I think sometimes the one and sometimes the other. +When I look back on it, it seems to me as if I had been living here +like a poor woman—just from hand to mouth. I have existed merely to +perform tricks for you, Torvald. But you would have it so. You and papa +have committed a great sin against me. It is your fault that I have +made nothing of my life. + +HELMER. +How unreasonable and how ungrateful you are, Nora! Have you not been +happy here? + +NORA. +No, I have never been happy. I thought I was, but it has never really +been so. + +HELMER. +Not—not happy! + +NORA. +No, only merry. And you have always been so kind to me. But our home +has been nothing but a playroom. I have been your doll-wife, just as at +home I was papa’s doll-child; and here the children have been my dolls. +I thought it great fun when you played with me, just as they thought it +great fun when I played with them. That is what our marriage has been, +Torvald. + +HELMER. +There is some truth in what you say—exaggerated and strained as your +view of it is. But for the future it shall be different. Playtime shall +be over, and lesson-time shall begin. + +NORA. +Whose lessons? Mine, or the children’s? + +HELMER. +Both yours and the children’s, my darling Nora. + +NORA. +Alas, Torvald, you are not the man to educate me into being a proper +wife for you. + +HELMER. +And you can say that! + +NORA. +And I—how am I fitted to bring up the children? + +HELMER. +Nora! + +NORA. +Didn’t you say so yourself a little while ago—that you dare not trust +me to bring them up? + +HELMER. +In a moment of anger! Why do you pay any heed to that? + +NORA. +Indeed, you were perfectly right. I am not fit for the task. There is +another task I must undertake first. I must try and educate myself—you +are not the man to help me in that. I must do that for myself. And that +is why I am going to leave you now. + +HELMER. +_[springing up]_. What do you say? + +NORA. +I must stand quite alone, if I am to understand myself and everything +about me. It is for that reason that I cannot remain with you any +longer. + +HELMER. +Nora, Nora! + +NORA. +I am going away from here now, at once. I am sure Christine will take +me in for the night— + +HELMER. +You are out of your mind! I won’t allow it! I forbid you! + +NORA. +It is no use forbidding me anything any longer. I will take with me +what belongs to myself. I will take nothing from you, either now or +later. + +HELMER. +What sort of madness is this! + +NORA. +Tomorrow I shall go home—I mean, to my old home. It will be easiest for +me to find something to do there. + +HELMER. +You blind, foolish woman! + +NORA. +I must try and get some sense, Torvald. + +HELMER. +To desert your home, your husband and your children! And you don’t +consider what people will say! + +NORA. +I cannot consider that at all. I only know that it is necessary for me. + +HELMER. +It’s shocking. This is how you would neglect your most sacred duties. + +NORA. +What do you consider my most sacred duties? + +HELMER. +Do I need to tell you that? Are they not your duties to your husband +and your children? + +NORA. +I have other duties just as sacred. + +HELMER. +That you have not. What duties could those be? + +NORA. +Duties to myself. + +HELMER. +Before all else, you are a wife and a mother. + +NORA. +I don’t believe that any longer. I believe that before all else I am a +reasonable human being, just as you are—or, at all events, that I must +try and become one. I know quite well, Torvald, that most people would +think you right, and that views of that kind are to be found in books; +but I can no longer content myself with what most people say, or with +what is found in books. I must think over things for myself and get to +understand them. + +HELMER. +Can you not understand your place in your own home? Have you not a +reliable guide in such matters as that?—have you no religion? + +NORA. +I am afraid, Torvald, I do not exactly know what religion is. + +HELMER. +What are you saying? + +NORA. +I know nothing but what the clergyman said, when I went to be +confirmed. He told us that religion was this, and that, and the other. +When I am away from all this, and am alone, I will look into that +matter too. I will see if what the clergyman said is true, or at all +events if it is true for me. + +HELMER. +This is unheard of in a girl of your age! But if religion cannot lead +you aright, let me try and awaken your conscience. I suppose you have +some moral sense? Or—answer me—am I to think you have none? + +NORA. +I assure you, Torvald, that is not an easy question to answer. I really +don’t know. The thing perplexes me altogether. I only know that you and +I look at it in quite a different light. I am learning, too, that the +law is quite another thing from what I supposed; but I find it +impossible to convince myself that the law is right. According to it a +woman has no right to spare her old dying father, or to save her +husband’s life. I can’t believe that. + +HELMER. +You talk like a child. You don’t understand the conditions of the world +in which you live. + +NORA. +No, I don’t. But now I am going to try. I am going to see if I can make +out who is right, the world or I. + +HELMER. +You are ill, Nora; you are delirious; I almost think you are out of +your mind. + +NORA. +I have never felt my mind so clear and certain as tonight. + +HELMER. +And is it with a clear and certain mind that you forsake your husband +and your children? + +NORA. +Yes, it is. + +HELMER. +Then there is only one possible explanation. + +NORA. +What is that? + +HELMER. +You do not love me anymore. + +NORA. +No, that is just it. + +HELMER. +Nora!—and you can say that? + +NORA. +It gives me great pain, Torvald, for you have always been so kind to +me, but I cannot help it. I do not love you any more. + +HELMER. +_[regaining his composure]_. Is that a clear and certain conviction +too? + +NORA. +Yes, absolutely clear and certain. That is the reason why I will not +stay here any longer. + +HELMER. +And can you tell me what I have done to forfeit your love? + +NORA. +Yes, indeed I can. It was tonight, when the wonderful thing did not +happen; then I saw you were not the man I had thought you were. + +HELMER. +Explain yourself better. I don’t understand you. + +NORA. +I have waited so patiently for eight years; for, goodness knows, I knew +very well that wonderful things don’t happen every day. Then this +horrible misfortune came upon me; and then I felt quite certain that +the wonderful thing was going to happen at last. When Krogstad’s letter +was lying out there, never for a moment did I imagine that you would +consent to accept this man’s conditions. I was so absolutely certain +that you would say to him: Publish the thing to the whole world. And +when that was done— + +HELMER. +Yes, what then?—when I had exposed my wife to shame and disgrace? + +NORA. +When that was done, I was so absolutely certain, you would come forward +and take everything upon yourself, and say: I am the guilty one. + +HELMER. +Nora—! + +NORA. +You mean that I would never have accepted such a sacrifice on your +part? No, of course not. But what would my assurances have been worth +against yours? That was the wonderful thing which I hoped for and +feared; and it was to prevent that, that I wanted to kill myself. + +HELMER. +I would gladly work night and day for you, Nora—bear sorrow and want +for your sake. But no man would sacrifice his honour for the one he +loves. + +NORA. +It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done. + +HELMER. +Oh, you think and talk like a heedless child. + +NORA. +Maybe. But you neither think nor talk like the man I could bind myself +to. As soon as your fear was over—and it was not fear for what +threatened me, but for what might happen to you—when the whole thing +was past, as far as you were concerned it was exactly as if nothing at +all had happened. Exactly as before, I was your little skylark, your +doll, which you would in future treat with doubly gentle care, because +it was so brittle and fragile. _[Getting up.]_ Torvald—it was then it +dawned upon me that for eight years I had been living here with a +strange man, and had borne him three children—. Oh, I can’t bear to +think of it! I could tear myself into little bits! + +HELMER. +_[sadly]_. I see, I see. An abyss has opened between us—there is no +denying it. But, Nora, would it not be possible to fill it up? + +NORA. +As I am now, I am no wife for you. + +HELMER. +I have it in me to become a different man. + +NORA. +Perhaps—if your doll is taken away from you. + +HELMER. +But to part!—to part from you! No, no, Nora, I can’t understand that +idea. + +NORA. +_[going out to the right]_. That makes it all the more certain that it +must be done. _[She comes back with her cloak and hat and a small bag +which she puts on a chair by the table.]_ + +HELMER. +Nora, Nora, not now! Wait until tomorrow. + +NORA. +_[putting on her cloak]_. I cannot spend the night in a strange man’s +room. + +HELMER. +But can’t we live here like brother and sister—? + +NORA. +_[putting on her hat]_. You know very well that would not last long. +_[Puts the shawl round her.]_ Goodbye, Torvald. I won’t see the little +ones. I know they are in better hands than mine. As I am now, I can be +of no use to them. + +HELMER. +But some day, Nora—some day? + +NORA. +How can I tell? I have no idea what is going to become of me. + +HELMER. +But you are my wife, whatever becomes of you. + +NORA. +Listen, Torvald. I have heard that when a wife deserts her husband’s +house, as I am doing now, he is legally freed from all obligations +towards her. In any case, I set you free from all your obligations. You +are not to feel yourself bound in the slightest way, any more than I +shall. There must be perfect freedom on both sides. See, here is your +ring back. Give me mine. + +HELMER. +That too? + +NORA. +That too. + +HELMER. +Here it is. + +NORA. +That’s right. Now it is all over. I have put the keys here. The maids +know all about everything in the house—better than I do. Tomorrow, +after I have left her, Christine will come here and pack up my own +things that I brought with me from home. I will have them sent after +me. + +HELMER. +All over! All over!—Nora, shall you never think of me again? + +NORA. +I know I shall often think of you, the children, and this house. + +HELMER. +May I write to you, Nora? + +NORA. +No—never. You must not do that. + +HELMER. +But at least let me send you— + +NORA. +Nothing—nothing— + +HELMER. +Let me help you if you are in want. + +NORA. +No. I can receive nothing from a stranger. + +HELMER. +Nora—can I never be anything more than a stranger to you? + +NORA. +_[taking her bag]_. Ah, Torvald, the most wonderful thing of all would +have to happen. + +HELMER. +Tell me what that would be! + +NORA. +Both you and I would have to be so changed that—. Oh, Torvald, I don’t +believe any longer in wonderful things happening. + +HELMER. +But I will believe in it. Tell me! So changed that—? + +NORA. +That our life together would be a real wedlock. Goodbye. _[She goes out +through the hall.]_ + +HELMER. +_[sinks down on a chair at the door and buries his face in his hands]_. +Nora! Nora! _[Looks round, and rises.]_ Empty. She is gone. _[A hope +flashes across his mind.]_ The most wonderful thing of all—? + +_[The sound of a door shutting is heard from below.]_ diff --git a/search-engine/books/Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.txt b/search-engine/books/Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc03e2d --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3406 @@ +Title: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland +Author: Lewis Carroll + +Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland + +by Lewis Carroll + +THE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM EDITION 3.0 + +Contents + + CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole + CHAPTER II. The Pool of Tears + CHAPTER III. A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale + CHAPTER IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill + CHAPTER V. Advice from a Caterpillar + CHAPTER VI. Pig and Pepper + CHAPTER VII. A Mad Tea-Party + CHAPTER VIII. The Queen’s Croquet-Ground + CHAPTER IX. The Mock Turtle’s Story + CHAPTER X. The Lobster Quadrille + CHAPTER XI. Who Stole the Tarts? + CHAPTER XII. Alice’s Evidence + + + + +CHAPTER I. +Down the Rabbit-Hole + + +Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the +bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into +the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or +conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice +“without pictures or conversations?” + +So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the +hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of +making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and +picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran +close by her. + +There was nothing so _very_ remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it +so _very_ much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, “Oh +dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!” (when she thought it over afterwards, +it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the +time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually _took a +watch out of its waistcoat-pocket_, and looked at it, and then hurried +on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she +had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a +watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the +field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a +large rabbit-hole under the hedge. + +In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how +in the world she was to get out again. + +The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then +dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think +about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very +deep well. + +Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had +plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what +was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out +what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she +looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with +cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures +hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she +passed; it was labelled “ORANGE MARMALADE”, but to her great +disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear +of killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the +cupboards as she fell past it. + +“Well!” thought Alice to herself, “after such a fall as this, I shall +think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they’ll all think me +at home! Why, I wouldn’t say anything about it, even if I fell off the +top of the house!” (Which was very likely true.) + +Down, down, down. Would the fall _never_ come to an end? “I wonder how +many miles I’ve fallen by this time?” she said aloud. “I must be +getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would +be four thousand miles down, I think—” (for, you see, Alice had learnt +several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and +though this was not a _very_ good opportunity for showing off her +knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good +practice to say it over) “—yes, that’s about the right distance—but +then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I’ve got to?” (Alice had no +idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice +grand words to say.) + +Presently she began again. “I wonder if I shall fall right _through_ +the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk +with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think—” (she was rather +glad there _was_ no one listening, this time, as it didn’t sound at all +the right word) “—but I shall have to ask them what the name of the +country is, you know. Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?” +(and she tried to curtsey as she spoke—fancy _curtseying_ as you’re +falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) “And what +an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do +to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.” + +Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began +talking again. “Dinah’ll miss me very much to-night, I should think!” +(Dinah was the cat.) “I hope they’ll remember her saucer of milk at +tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are +no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s +very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?” And here +Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a +dreamy sort of way, “Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?” and +sometimes, “Do bats eat cats?” for, you see, as she couldn’t answer +either question, it didn’t much matter which way she put it. She felt +that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was +walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, +“Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?” when suddenly, +thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and +the fall was over. + +Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: +she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another +long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down +it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, +and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, “Oh my ears +and whiskers, how late it’s getting!” She was close behind it when she +turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found +herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging +from the roof. + +There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when +Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every +door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to +get out again. + +Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid +glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s +first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; +but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, +but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second +time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and +behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the +little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! + +Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not +much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the +passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get +out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright +flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head +through the doorway; “and even if my head would go through,” thought +poor Alice, “it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, +how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only +knew how to begin.” For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had +happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things +indeed were really impossible. + +There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went +back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at +any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this +time she found a little bottle on it, (“which certainly was not here +before,” said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper +label, with the words “DRINK ME,” beautifully printed on it in large +letters. + +It was all very well to say “Drink me,” but the wise little Alice was +not going to do _that_ in a hurry. “No, I’ll look first,” she said, +“and see whether it’s marked ‘_poison_’ or not”; for she had read +several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and +eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they +_would_ not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: +such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; +and that if you cut your finger _very_ deeply with a knife, it usually +bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a +bottle marked “poison,” it is almost certain to disagree with you, +sooner or later. + +However, this bottle was _not_ marked “poison,” so Alice ventured to +taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed +flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and +hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. + +* * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + +* * * * * * * + + +“What a curious feeling!” said Alice; “I must be shutting up like a +telescope.” + +And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face +brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going +through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she +waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: +she felt a little nervous about this; “for it might end, you know,” +said Alice to herself, “in my going out altogether, like a candle. I +wonder what I should be like then?” And she tried to fancy what the +flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could +not remember ever having seen such a thing. + +After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going +into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the +door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she +went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach +it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her +best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; +and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing +sat down and cried. + +“Come, there’s no use in crying like that!” said Alice to herself, +rather sharply; “I advise you to leave off this minute!” She generally +gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), +and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into +her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having +cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, +for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. +“But it’s no use now,” thought poor Alice, “to pretend to be two +people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make _one_ respectable +person!” + +Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: +she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words +“EAT ME” were beautifully marked in currants. “Well, I’ll eat it,” said +Alice, “and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it +makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll +get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!” + +She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, “Which way? Which +way?”, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was +growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same +size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice +had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way +things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go +on in the common way. + +So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. + +* * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + +* * * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER II. +The Pool of Tears + + +“Curiouser and curiouser!” cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that +for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); “now I’m +opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!” +(for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of +sight, they were getting so far off). “Oh, my poor little feet, I +wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I’m +sure _I_ shan’t be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble +myself about you: you must manage the best way you can;—but I must be +kind to them,” thought Alice, “or perhaps they won’t walk the way I +want to go! Let me see: I’ll give them a new pair of boots every +Christmas.” + +And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. “They must +go by the carrier,” she thought; “and how funny it’ll seem, sending +presents to one’s own feet! And how odd the directions will look! + + _Alice’s Right Foot, Esq., Hearthrug, near the Fender,_ (_with + Alice’s love_). + +Oh dear, what nonsense I’m talking!” + +Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was +now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden +key and hurried off to the garden door. + +Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to +look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more +hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. + +“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said Alice, “a great girl like +you,” (she might well say this), “to go on crying in this way! Stop +this moment, I tell you!” But she went on all the same, shedding +gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about +four inches deep and reaching half down the hall. + +After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and +she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White +Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves +in one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a +great hurry, muttering to himself as he came, “Oh! the Duchess, the +Duchess! Oh! won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!” Alice felt +so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the +Rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, “If you please, +sir—” The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and +the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go. + +Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she +kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: “Dear, dear! How +queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. +I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the +same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling +a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who +in the world am I? Ah, _that’s_ the great puzzle!” And she began +thinking over all the children she knew that were of the same age as +herself, to see if she could have been changed for any of them. + +“I’m sure I’m not Ada,” she said, “for her hair goes in such long +ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t +be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a +very little! Besides, _she’s_ she, and _I’m_ I, and—oh dear, how +puzzling it all is! I’ll try if I know all the things I used to know. +Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, +and four times seven is—oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that +rate! However, the Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s try +Geography. London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of +Rome, and Rome—no, _that’s_ all wrong, I’m certain! I must have been +changed for Mabel! I’ll try and say ‘_How doth the little_—’” and she +crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began +to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words +did not come the same as they used to do:— + +“How doth the little crocodile + Improve his shining tail, +And pour the waters of the Nile + On every golden scale! + +“How cheerfully he seems to grin, + How neatly spread his claws, +And welcome little fishes in + With gently smiling jaws!” + + +“I’m sure those are not the right words,” said poor Alice, and her eyes +filled with tears again as she went on, “I must be Mabel after all, and +I shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to +no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I’ve +made up my mind about it; if I’m Mabel, I’ll stay down here! It’ll be +no use their putting their heads down and saying ‘Come up again, dear!’ +I shall only look up and say ‘Who am I then? Tell me that first, and +then, if I like being that person, I’ll come up: if not, I’ll stay down +here till I’m somebody else’—but, oh dear!” cried Alice, with a sudden +burst of tears, “I do wish they _would_ put their heads down! I am so +_very_ tired of being all alone here!” + +As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see +that she had put on one of the Rabbit’s little white kid gloves while +she was talking. “How _can_ I have done that?” she thought. “I must be +growing small again.” She got up and went to the table to measure +herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was +now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon +found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she +dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. + +“That _was_ a narrow escape!” said Alice, a good deal frightened at the +sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; “and +now for the garden!” and she ran with all speed back to the little +door: but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden +key was lying on the glass table as before, “and things are worse than +ever,” thought the poor child, “for I never was so small as this +before, never! And I declare it’s too bad, that it is!” + +As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, +splash! she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that +she had somehow fallen into the sea, “and in that case I can go back by +railway,” she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in +her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go +to on the English coast you find a number of bathing machines in the +sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row +of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) However, she +soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when +she was nine feet high. + +“I wish I hadn’t cried so much!” said Alice, as she swam about, trying +to find her way out. “I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by +being drowned in my own tears! That _will_ be a queer thing, to be +sure! However, everything is queer to-day.” + +Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way +off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought +it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small +she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had +slipped in like herself. + +“Would it be of any use, now,” thought Alice, “to speak to this mouse? +Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very +likely it can talk: at any rate, there’s no harm in trying.” So she +began: “O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired +of swimming about here, O Mouse!” (Alice thought this must be the right +way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but +she remembered having seen in her brother’s Latin Grammar, “A mouse—of +a mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—O mouse!”) The Mouse looked at her rather +inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, +but it said nothing. + +“Perhaps it doesn’t understand English,” thought Alice; “I daresay it’s +a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.” (For, with all +her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago +anything had happened.) So she began again: “Où est ma chatte?” which +was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a +sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with +fright. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” cried Alice hastily, afraid that she +had hurt the poor animal’s feelings. “I quite forgot you didn’t like +cats.” + +“Not like cats!” cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. “Would +_you_ like cats if you were me?” + +“Well, perhaps not,” said Alice in a soothing tone: “don’t be angry +about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you’d +take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear +quiet thing,” Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about +in the pool, “and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her +paws and washing her face—and she is such a nice soft thing to +nurse—and she’s such a capital one for catching mice—oh, I beg your +pardon!” cried Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all +over, and she felt certain it must be really offended. “We won’t talk +about her any more if you’d rather not.” + +“We indeed!” cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his +tail. “As if _I_ would talk on such a subject! Our family always +_hated_ cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don’t let me hear the name +again!” + +“I won’t indeed!” said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of +conversation. “Are you—are you fond—of—of dogs?” The Mouse did not +answer, so Alice went on eagerly: “There is such a nice little dog near +our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you +know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it’ll fetch things when +you throw them, and it’ll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts +of things—I can’t remember half of them—and it belongs to a farmer, you +know, and he says it’s so useful, it’s worth a hundred pounds! He says +it kills all the rats and—oh dear!” cried Alice in a sorrowful tone, +“I’m afraid I’ve offended it again!” For the Mouse was swimming away +from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the +pool as it went. + +So she called softly after it, “Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we +won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them!” When the +Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face +was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low +trembling voice, “Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my +history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.” + +It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the +birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a +Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice +led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale + + +They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank—the +birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close +to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. + +The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a +consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite +natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if +she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument +with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, “I am +older than you, and must know better;” and this Alice would not allow +without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to +tell its age, there was no more to be said. + +At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, +called out, “Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _I’ll_ soon make +you dry enough!” They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the +Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she +felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. + +“Ahem!” said the Mouse with an important air, “are you all ready? This +is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! ‘William +the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted +to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much +accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of +Mercia and Northumbria—’” + +“Ugh!” said the Lory, with a shiver. + +“I beg your pardon!” said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: “Did +you speak?” + +“Not I!” said the Lory hastily. + +“I thought you did,” said the Mouse. “—I proceed. ‘Edwin and Morcar, +the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even +Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable—’” + +“Found _what_?” said the Duck. + +“Found _it_,” the Mouse replied rather crossly: “of course you know +what ‘it’ means.” + +“I know what ‘it’ means well enough, when _I_ find a thing,” said the +Duck: “it’s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the +archbishop find?” + +The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, “‘—found +it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him +the crown. William’s conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence +of his Normans—’ How are you getting on now, my dear?” it continued, +turning to Alice as it spoke. + +“As wet as ever,” said Alice in a melancholy tone: “it doesn’t seem to +dry me at all.” + +“In that case,” said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, “I move +that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic +remedies—” + +“Speak English!” said the Eaglet. “I don’t know the meaning of half +those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!” And +the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds +tittered audibly. + +“What I was going to say,” said the Dodo in an offended tone, “was, +that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.” + +“What _is_ a Caucus-race?” said Alice; not that she wanted much to +know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that _somebody_ ought to +speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything. + +“Why,” said the Dodo, “the best way to explain it is to do it.” (And, +as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will +tell you how the Dodo managed it.) + +First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (“the exact +shape doesn’t matter,” it said,) and then all the party were placed +along the course, here and there. There was no “One, two, three, and +away,” but they began running when they liked, and left off when they +liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, +when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry +again, the Dodo suddenly called out “The race is over!” and they all +crowded round it, panting, and asking, “But who has won?” + +This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of +thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its +forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the +pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo +said, “_Everybody_ has won, and all must have prizes.” + +“But who is to give the prizes?” quite a chorus of voices asked. + +“Why, _she_, of course,” said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one +finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a +confused way, “Prizes! Prizes!” + +Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her +pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had +not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly +one a-piece, all round. + +“But she must have a prize herself, you know,” said the Mouse. + +“Of course,” the Dodo replied very gravely. “What else have you got in +your pocket?” he went on, turning to Alice. + +“Only a thimble,” said Alice sadly. + +“Hand it over here,” said the Dodo. + +Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly +presented the thimble, saying “We beg your acceptance of this elegant +thimble;” and, when it had finished this short speech, they all +cheered. + +Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave +that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything +to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as +she could. + +The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and +confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste +theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. +However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and +begged the Mouse to tell them something more. + +“You promised to tell me your history, you know,” said Alice, “and why +it is you hate—C and D,” she added in a whisper, half afraid that it +would be offended again. + +“Mine is a long and a sad tale!” said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and +sighing. + +“It _is_ a long tail, certainly,” said Alice, looking down with wonder +at the Mouse’s tail; “but why do you call it sad?” And she kept on +puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the +tale was something like this:— + + “Fury said to a mouse, That he met in the house, ‘Let us both + go to law: _I_ will prosecute _you_.—Come, I’ll take no + denial; We must have a trial: For really this morning I’ve + nothing to do.’ Said the mouse to the cur, ‘Such a trial, dear + sir, With no jury or judge, would be wasting our breath.’ + ‘I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,’ Said cunning old Fury: ‘I’ll + try the whole cause, and condemn you to death.’” + +“You are not attending!” said the Mouse to Alice severely. “What are +you thinking of?” + +“I beg your pardon,” said Alice very humbly: “you had got to the fifth +bend, I think?” + +“I had _not!_” cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily. + +“A knot!” said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking +anxiously about her. “Oh, do let me help to undo it!” + +“I shall do nothing of the sort,” said the Mouse, getting up and +walking away. “You insult me by talking such nonsense!” + +“I didn’t mean it!” pleaded poor Alice. “But you’re so easily offended, +you know!” + +The Mouse only growled in reply. + +“Please come back and finish your story!” Alice called after it; and +the others all joined in chorus, “Yes, please do!” but the Mouse only +shook its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. + +“What a pity it wouldn’t stay!” sighed the Lory, as soon as it was +quite out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to +her daughter “Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose +_your_ temper!” “Hold your tongue, Ma!” said the young Crab, a little +snappishly. “You’re enough to try the patience of an oyster!” + +“I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!” said Alice aloud, +addressing nobody in particular. “She’d soon fetch it back!” + +“And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?” said the +Lory. + +Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: +“Dinah’s our cat. And she’s such a capital one for catching mice you +can’t think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, +she’ll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!” + +This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the +birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very +carefully, remarking, “I really must be getting home; the night-air +doesn’t suit my throat!” and a Canary called out in a trembling voice +to its children, “Come away, my dears! It’s high time you were all in +bed!” On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left +alone. + +“I wish I hadn’t mentioned Dinah!” she said to herself in a melancholy +tone. “Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I’m sure she’s the best +cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you +any more!” And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very +lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a +little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up +eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was +coming back to finish his story. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill + + +It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking +anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard +it muttering to itself “The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh +my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are +ferrets! Where _can_ I have dropped them, I wonder?” Alice guessed in a +moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid +gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but +they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since +her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the +little door, had vanished completely. + +Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and +called out to her in an angry tone, “Why, Mary Ann, what _are_ you +doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and +a fan! Quick, now!” And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off +at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the +mistake it had made. + +“He took me for his housemaid,” she said to herself as she ran. “How +surprised he’ll be when he finds out who I am! But I’d better take him +his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.” As she said this, she +came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass +plate with the name “W. RABBIT,” engraved upon it. She went in without +knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the +real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the +fan and gloves. + +“How queer it seems,” Alice said to herself, “to be going messages for +a rabbit! I suppose Dinah’ll be sending me on messages next!” And she +began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: “‘Miss Alice! Come +here directly, and get ready for your walk!’ ‘Coming in a minute, +nurse! But I’ve got to see that the mouse doesn’t get out.’ Only I +don’t think,” Alice went on, “that they’d let Dinah stop in the house +if it began ordering people about like that!” + +By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table +in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three +pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the +gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a +little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label +this time with the words “DRINK ME,” but nevertheless she uncorked it +and put it to her lips. “I know _something_ interesting is sure to +happen,” she said to herself, “whenever I eat or drink anything; so +I’ll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large +again, for really I’m quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!” + +It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had +drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, +and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put +down the bottle, saying to herself “That’s quite enough—I hope I shan’t +grow any more—As it is, I can’t get out at the door—I do wish I hadn’t +drunk quite so much!” + +Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, +and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there +was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with +one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. +Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out +of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself “Now I +can do no more, whatever happens. What _will_ become of me?” + +Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, +and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there +seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room +again, no wonder she felt unhappy. + +“It was much pleasanter at home,” thought poor Alice, “when one wasn’t +always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and +rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and +yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what +_can_ have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied +that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of +one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And +when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,” she added in a +sorrowful tone; “at least there’s no room to grow up any more _here_.” + +“But then,” thought Alice, “shall I _never_ get any older than I am +now? That’ll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman—but +then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn’t like _that!_” + +“Oh, you foolish Alice!” she answered herself. “How can you learn +lessons in here? Why, there’s hardly room for _you_, and no room at all +for any lesson-books!” + +And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and +making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes +she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen. + +“Mary Ann! Mary Ann!” said the voice. “Fetch me my gloves this moment!” +Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was +the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the +house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as +large as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. + +Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as +the door opened inwards, and Alice’s elbow was pressed hard against it, +that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself “Then I’ll +go round and get in at the window.” + +“_That_ you won’t!” thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied +she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her +hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, +but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, +from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a +cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. + +Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit’s—“Pat! Pat! Where are you?” And +then a voice she had never heard before, “Sure then I’m here! Digging +for apples, yer honour!” + +“Digging for apples, indeed!” said the Rabbit angrily. “Here! Come and +help me out of _this!_” (Sounds of more broken glass.) + +“Now tell me, Pat, what’s that in the window?” + +“Sure, it’s an arm, yer honour!” (He pronounced it “arrum.”) + +“An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole +window!” + +“Sure, it does, yer honour: but it’s an arm for all that.” + +“Well, it’s got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!” + +There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers +now and then; such as, “Sure, I don’t like it, yer honour, at all, at +all!” “Do as I tell you, you coward!” and at last she spread out her +hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were +_two_ little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. “What a number +of cucumber-frames there must be!” thought Alice. “I wonder what +they’ll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they +_could!_ I’m sure _I_ don’t want to stay in here any longer!” + +She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a +rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all +talking together: she made out the words: “Where’s the other +ladder?—Why, I hadn’t to bring but one; Bill’s got the other—Bill! +fetch it here, lad!—Here, put ’em up at this corner—No, tie ’em +together first—they don’t reach half high enough yet—Oh! they’ll do +well enough; don’t be particular—Here, Bill! catch hold of this +rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it’s coming down! +Heads below!” (a loud crash)—“Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I +fancy—Who’s to go down the chimney?—Nay, _I_ shan’t! _You_ do +it!—_That_ I won’t, then!—Bill’s to go down—Here, Bill! the master says +you’re to go down the chimney!” + +“Oh! So Bill’s got to come down the chimney, has he?” said Alice to +herself. “Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn’t be in +Bill’s place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but +I _think_ I can kick a little!” + +She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till +she heard a little animal (she couldn’t guess of what sort it was) +scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, +saying to herself “This is Bill,” she gave one sharp kick, and waited +to see what would happen next. + +The first thing she heard was a general chorus of “There goes Bill!” +then the Rabbit’s voice along—“Catch him, you by the hedge!” then +silence, and then another confusion of voices—“Hold up his head—Brandy +now—Don’t choke him—How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell +us all about it!” + +Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (“That’s Bill,” thought +Alice,) “Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I’m better now—but I’m +a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me +like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!” + +“So you did, old fellow!” said the others. + +“We must burn the house down!” said the Rabbit’s voice; and Alice +called out as loud as she could, “If you do, I’ll set Dinah at you!” + +There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, “I +wonder what they _will_ do next! If they had any sense, they’d take the +roof off.” After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and +Alice heard the Rabbit say, “A barrowful will do, to begin with.” + +“A barrowful of _what?_” thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, +for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the +window, and some of them hit her in the face. “I’ll put a stop to +this,” she said to herself, and shouted out, “You’d better not do that +again!” which produced another dead silence. + +Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into +little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her +head. “If I eat one of these cakes,” she thought, “it’s sure to make +_some_ change in my size; and as it can’t possibly make me larger, it +must make me smaller, I suppose.” + +So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she +began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get +through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of +little animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, +was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it +something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she +appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself +safe in a thick wood. + +“The first thing I’ve got to do,” said Alice to herself, as she +wandered about in the wood, “is to grow to my right size again; and the +second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that +will be the best plan.” + +It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply +arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea +how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among +the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a +great hurry. + +An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and +feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. “Poor little +thing!” said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to +it; but she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it +might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in +spite of all her coaxing. + +Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and +held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off +all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, +and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, +to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the +other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head +over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was +very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every +moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then +the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very +little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely +all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with +its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. + +This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she +set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, +and till the puppy’s bark sounded quite faint in the distance. + +“And yet what a dear little puppy it was!” said Alice, as she leant +against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the +leaves: “I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I’d +only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I’d nearly forgotten that +I’ve got to grow up again! Let me see—how _is_ it to be managed? I +suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great +question is, what?” + +The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at +the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that +looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. +There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as +herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and +behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what +was on the top of it. + +She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the +mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue +caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly +smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of +anything else. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +Advice from a Caterpillar + + +The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in +silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and +addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. + +“Who are _you?_” said the Caterpillar. + +This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, +rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know +who I _was_ when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been +changed several times since then.” + +“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar sternly. “Explain +yourself!” + +“I can’t explain _myself_, I’m afraid, sir,” said Alice, “because I’m +not myself, you see.” + +“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar. + +“I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,” Alice replied very politely, +“for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many +different sizes in a day is very confusing.” + +“It isn’t,” said the Caterpillar. + +“Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,” said Alice; “but when you +have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then +after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little +queer, won’t you?” + +“Not a bit,” said the Caterpillar. + +“Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,” said Alice; “all I know +is, it would feel very queer to _me_.” + +“You!” said the Caterpillar contemptuously. “Who are _you?_” + +Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. +Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar’s making such _very_ +short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, “I +think, you ought to tell me who _you_ are, first.” + +“Why?” said the Caterpillar. + +Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any +good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a _very_ unpleasant +state of mind, she turned away. + +“Come back!” the Caterpillar called after her. “I’ve something +important to say!” + +This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. + +“Keep your temper,” said the Caterpillar. + +“Is that all?” said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she +could. + +“No,” said the Caterpillar. + +Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, +and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For +some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded +its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, “So you +think you’re changed, do you?” + +“I’m afraid I am, sir,” said Alice; “I can’t remember things as I +used—and I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!” + +“Can’t remember _what_ things?” said the Caterpillar. + +“Well, I’ve tried to say “How doth the little busy bee,” but it all +came different!” Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. + +“Repeat, “_You are old, Father William_,’” said the Caterpillar. + +Alice folded her hands, and began:— + +“You are old, Father William,” the young man said, + “And your hair has become very white; +And yet you incessantly stand on your head— + Do you think, at your age, it is right?” + +“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son, + “I feared it might injure the brain; +But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, + Why, I do it again and again.” + +“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before, + And have grown most uncommonly fat; +Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door— + Pray, what is the reason of that?” + +“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, + “I kept all my limbs very supple +By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box— + Allow me to sell you a couple?” + +“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak + For anything tougher than suet; +Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak— + Pray, how did you manage to do it?” + +“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law, + And argued each case with my wife; +And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, + Has lasted the rest of my life.” + +“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose + That your eye was as steady as ever; +Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose— + What made you so awfully clever?” + +“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,” + Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs! +Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? + Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!” + + +“That is not said right,” said the Caterpillar. + +“Not _quite_ right, I’m afraid,” said Alice, timidly; “some of the +words have got altered.” + +“It is wrong from beginning to end,” said the Caterpillar decidedly, +and there was silence for some minutes. + +The Caterpillar was the first to speak. + +“What size do you want to be?” it asked. + +“Oh, I’m not particular as to size,” Alice hastily replied; “only one +doesn’t like changing so often, you know.” + +“I _don’t_ know,” said the Caterpillar. + +Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life +before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. + +“Are you content now?” said the Caterpillar. + +“Well, I should like to be a _little_ larger, sir, if you wouldn’t +mind,” said Alice: “three inches is such a wretched height to be.” + +“It is a very good height indeed!” said the Caterpillar angrily, +rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). + +“But I’m not used to it!” pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she +thought of herself, “I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily +offended!” + +“You’ll get used to it in time,” said the Caterpillar; and it put the +hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. + +This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a +minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and +yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the +mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, +“One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you +grow shorter.” + +“One side of _what?_ The other side of _what?_” thought Alice to +herself. + +“Of the mushroom,” said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it +aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. + +Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, +trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was +perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at +last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke +off a bit of the edge with each hand. + +“And now which is which?” she said to herself, and nibbled a little of +the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a +violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! + +She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt +that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she +set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed +so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her +mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the +lefthand bit. + +* * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + +* * * * * * * + + +“Come, my head’s free at last!” said Alice in a tone of delight, which +changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders +were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was +an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a +sea of green leaves that lay far below her. + +“What _can_ all that green stuff be?” said Alice. “And where _have_ my +shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can’t see you?” +She was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, +except a little shaking among the distant green leaves. + +As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, +she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that +her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She +had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was +going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but +the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp +hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her +face, and was beating her violently with its wings. + +“Serpent!” screamed the Pigeon. + +“I’m _not_ a serpent!” said Alice indignantly. “Let me alone!” + +“Serpent, I say again!” repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued +tone, and added with a kind of sob, “I’ve tried every way, and nothing +seems to suit them!” + +“I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about,” said Alice. + +“I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried +hedges,” the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; “but those +serpents! There’s no pleasing them!” + +Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in +saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. + +“As if it wasn’t trouble enough hatching the eggs,” said the Pigeon; +“but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I +haven’t had a wink of sleep these three weeks!” + +“I’m very sorry you’ve been annoyed,” said Alice, who was beginning to +see its meaning. + +“And just as I’d taken the highest tree in the wood,” continued the +Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, “and just as I was thinking I +should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down +from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!” + +“But I’m _not_ a serpent, I tell you!” said Alice. “I’m a—I’m a—” + +“Well! _What_ are you?” said the Pigeon. “I can see you’re trying to +invent something!” + +“I—I’m a little girl,” said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered +the number of changes she had gone through that day. + +“A likely story indeed!” said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest +contempt. “I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never +_one_ with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s +no use denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never +tasted an egg!” + +“I _have_ tasted eggs, certainly,” said Alice, who was a very truthful +child; “but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you +know.” + +“I don’t believe it,” said the Pigeon; “but if they do, why then +they’re a kind of serpent, that’s all I can say.” + +This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a +minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, “You’re +looking for eggs, I know _that_ well enough; and what does it matter to +me whether you’re a little girl or a serpent?” + +“It matters a good deal to _me_,” said Alice hastily; “but I’m not +looking for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn’t want +_yours_: I don’t like them raw.” + +“Well, be off, then!” said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled +down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well +as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, +and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while +she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, +and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at +the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until +she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. + +It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it +felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, +and began talking to herself, as usual. “Come, there’s half my plan +done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I’m never sure what I’m +going to be, from one minute to another! However, I’ve got back to my +right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden—how +_is_ that to be done, I wonder?” As she said this, she came suddenly +upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. +“Whoever lives there,” thought Alice, “it’ll never do to come upon them +_this_ size: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!” So she +began nibbling at the righthand bit again, and did not venture to go +near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +Pig and Pepper + + +For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what +to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the +wood—(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: +otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a +fish)—and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by +another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a +frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled +all over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all +about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. + +The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, +nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, +saying, in a solemn tone, “For the Duchess. An invitation from the +Queen to play croquet.” The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn +tone, only changing the order of the words a little, “From the Queen. +An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.” + +Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. + +Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood +for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the +Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the +door, staring stupidly up into the sky. + +Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. + +“There’s no sort of use in knocking,” said the Footman, “and that for +two reasons. First, because I’m on the same side of the door as you +are; secondly, because they’re making such a noise inside, no one could +possibly hear you.” And certainly there _was_ a most extraordinary +noise going on within—a constant howling and sneezing, and every now +and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to +pieces. + +“Please, then,” said Alice, “how am I to get in?” + +“There might be some sense in your knocking,” the Footman went on +without attending to her, “if we had the door between us. For instance, +if you were _inside_, you might knock, and I could let you out, you +know.” He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and +this Alice thought decidedly uncivil. “But perhaps he can’t help it,” +she said to herself; “his eyes are so _very_ nearly at the top of his +head. But at any rate he might answer questions.—How am I to get in?” +she repeated, aloud. + +“I shall sit here,” the Footman remarked, “till tomorrow—” + +At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came +skimming out, straight at the Footman’s head: it just grazed his nose, +and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. + +“—or next day, maybe,” the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly +as if nothing had happened. + +“How am I to get in?” asked Alice again, in a louder tone. + +“_Are_ you to get in at all?” said the Footman. “That’s the first +question, you know.” + +It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. “It’s really +dreadful,” she muttered to herself, “the way all the creatures argue. +It’s enough to drive one crazy!” + +The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his +remark, with variations. “I shall sit here,” he said, “on and off, for +days and days.” + +“But what am _I_ to do?” said Alice. + +“Anything you like,” said the Footman, and began whistling. + +“Oh, there’s no use in talking to him,” said Alice desperately: “he’s +perfectly idiotic!” And she opened the door and went in. + +The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from +one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool +in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, +stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. + +“There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!” Alice said to +herself, as well as she could for sneezing. + +There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed +occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling +alternately without a moment’s pause. The only things in the kitchen +that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting +on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. + +“Please would you tell me,” said Alice, a little timidly, for she was +not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, “why +your cat grins like that?” + +“It’s a Cheshire cat,” said the Duchess, “and that’s why. Pig!” + +She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite +jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the +baby, and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:— + +“I didn’t know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn’t +know that cats _could_ grin.” + +“They all can,” said the Duchess; “and most of ’em do.” + +“I don’t know of any that do,” Alice said very politely, feeling quite +pleased to have got into a conversation. + +“You don’t know much,” said the Duchess; “and that’s a fact.” + +Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would +be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she +was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the +fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at +the Duchess and the baby—the fire-irons came first; then followed a +shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of +them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, +that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. + +“Oh, _please_ mind what you’re doing!” cried Alice, jumping up and down +in an agony of terror. “Oh, there goes his _precious_ nose!” as an +unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it +off. + +“If everybody minded their own business,” the Duchess said in a hoarse +growl, “the world would go round a deal faster than it does.” + +“Which would _not_ be an advantage,” said Alice, who felt very glad to +get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. “Just +think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see the +earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—” + +“Talking of axes,” said the Duchess, “chop off her head!” + +Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take +the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to +be listening, so she went on again: “Twenty-four hours, I _think_; or +is it twelve? I—” + +“Oh, don’t bother _me_,” said the Duchess; “I never could abide +figures!” And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a +sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at +the end of every line: + +“Speak roughly to your little boy, + And beat him when he sneezes: +He only does it to annoy, + Because he knows it teases.” + + +CHORUS. +(In which the cook and the baby joined): + + +“Wow! wow! wow!” + + +While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing +the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, +that Alice could hardly hear the words:— + +“I speak severely to my boy, + I beat him when he sneezes; +For he can thoroughly enjoy + The pepper when he pleases!” + + +CHORUS. + + +“Wow! wow! wow!” + + +“Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!” the Duchess said to Alice, +flinging the baby at her as she spoke. “I must go and get ready to play +croquet with the Queen,” and she hurried out of the room. The cook +threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. + +Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped +little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, +“just like a star-fish,” thought Alice. The poor little thing was +snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling +itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for +the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. + +As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to +twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right +ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried it +out into the open air. “If I don’t take this child away with me,” +thought Alice, “they’re sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn’t it be +murder to leave it behind?” She said the last words out loud, and the +little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). +“Don’t grunt,” said Alice; “that’s not at all a proper way of +expressing yourself.” + +The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face +to see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had +a _very_ turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also +its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did +not like the look of the thing at all. “But perhaps it was only +sobbing,” she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there +were any tears. + +No, there were no tears. “If you’re going to turn into a pig, my dear,” +said Alice, seriously, “I’ll have nothing more to do with you. Mind +now!” The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible +to say which), and they went on for some while in silence. + +Alice was just beginning to think to herself, “Now, what am I to do +with this creature when I get it home?” when it grunted again, so +violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time +there could be _no_ mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than +a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it +further. + +So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it +trot away quietly into the wood. “If it had grown up,” she said to +herself, “it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes +rather a handsome pig, I think.” And she began thinking over other +children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying +to herself, “if one only knew the right way to change them—” when she +was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of +a tree a few yards off. + +The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she +thought: still it had _very_ long claws and a great many teeth, so she +felt that it ought to be treated with respect. + +“Cheshire Puss,” she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know +whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little +wider. “Come, it’s pleased so far,” thought Alice, and she went on. +“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” + +“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat. + +“I don’t much care where—” said Alice. + +“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat. + +“—so long as I get _somewhere_,” Alice added as an explanation. + +“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long +enough.” + +Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another +question. “What sort of people live about here?” + +“In _that_ direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives +a Hatter: and in _that_ direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a +March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.” + +“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked. + +“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. +You’re mad.” + +“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice. + +“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.” + +Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on “And how +do you know that you’re mad?” + +“To begin with,” said the Cat, “a dog’s not mad. You grant that?” + +“I suppose so,” said Alice. + +“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, +and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now _I_ growl when I’m pleased, +and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.” + +“_I_ call it purring, not growling,” said Alice. + +“Call it what you like,” said the Cat. “Do you play croquet with the +Queen to-day?” + +“I should like it very much,” said Alice, “but I haven’t been invited +yet.” + +“You’ll see me there,” said the Cat, and vanished. + +Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer +things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, +it suddenly appeared again. + +“By-the-bye, what became of the baby?” said the Cat. “I’d nearly +forgotten to ask.” + +“It turned into a pig,” Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back +in a natural way. + +“I thought it would,” said the Cat, and vanished again. + +Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not +appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in +which the March Hare was said to live. “I’ve seen hatters before,” she +said to herself; “the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and +perhaps as this is May it won’t be raving mad—at least not so mad as it +was in March.” As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat +again, sitting on a branch of a tree. + +“Did you say pig, or fig?” said the Cat. + +“I said pig,” replied Alice; “and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing +and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.” + +“All right,” said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, +beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which +remained some time after the rest of it had gone. + +“Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,” thought Alice; “but a +grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!” + +She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of +the March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the +chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It +was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had +nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself +to about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather +timidly, saying to herself “Suppose it should be raving mad after all! +I almost wish I’d gone to see the Hatter instead!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +A Mad Tea-Party + + +There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the +March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting +between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a +cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. “Very +uncomfortable for the Dormouse,” thought Alice; “only, as it’s asleep, +I suppose it doesn’t mind.” + +The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at +one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw +Alice coming. “There’s _plenty_ of room!” said Alice indignantly, and +she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. + +“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone. + +Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. +“I don’t see any wine,” she remarked. + +“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare. + +“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” said Alice angrily. + +“It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,” said +the March Hare. + +“I didn’t know it was _your_ table,” said Alice; “it’s laid for a great +many more than three.” + +“Your hair wants cutting,” said the Hatter. He had been looking at +Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first +speech. + +“You should learn not to make personal remarks,” Alice said with some +severity; “it’s very rude.” + +The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he _said_ +was, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?” + +“Come, we shall have some fun now!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they’ve +begun asking riddles.—I believe I can guess that,” she added aloud. + +“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” said +the March Hare. + +“Exactly so,” said Alice. + +“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on. + +“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least—at least I mean what I +say—that’s the same thing, you know.” + +“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “You might just as well +say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!” + +“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that ‘I like what +I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!” + +“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, who seemed to be +talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing +as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!” + +“It _is_ the same thing with you,” said the Hatter, and here the +conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while +Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and +writing-desks, which wasn’t much. + +The Hatter was the first to break the silence. “What day of the month +is it?” he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his +pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, +and holding it to his ear. + +Alice considered a little, and then said “The fourth.” + +“Two days wrong!” sighed the Hatter. “I told you butter wouldn’t suit +the works!” he added looking angrily at the March Hare. + +“It was the _best_ butter,” the March Hare meekly replied. + +“Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,” the Hatter grumbled: +“you shouldn’t have put it in with the bread-knife.” + +The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped +it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of +nothing better to say than his first remark, “It was the _best_ butter, +you know.” + +Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. “What a +funny watch!” she remarked. “It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t +tell what o’clock it is!” + +“Why should it?” muttered the Hatter. “Does _your_ watch tell you what +year it is?” + +“Of course not,” Alice replied very readily: “but that’s because it +stays the same year for such a long time together.” + +“Which is just the case with _mine_,” said the Hatter. + +Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter’s remark seemed to have no +sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. “I don’t quite +understand you,” she said, as politely as she could. + +“The Dormouse is asleep again,” said the Hatter, and he poured a little +hot tea upon its nose. + +The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its +eyes, “Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.” + +“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice +again. + +“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “what’s the answer?” + +“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter. + +“Nor I,” said the March Hare. + +Alice sighed wearily. “I think you might do something better with the +time,” she said, “than waste it in asking riddles that have no +answers.” + +“If you knew Time as well as I do,” said the Hatter, “you wouldn’t talk +about wasting _it_. It’s _him_.” + +“I don’t know what you mean,” said Alice. + +“Of course you don’t!” the Hatter said, tossing his head +contemptuously. “I dare say you never even spoke to Time!” + +“Perhaps not,” Alice cautiously replied: “but I know I have to beat +time when I learn music.” + +“Ah! that accounts for it,” said the Hatter. “He won’t stand beating. +Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything +you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in +the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a +hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, +time for dinner!” + +(“I only wish it was,” the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) + +“That would be grand, certainly,” said Alice thoughtfully: “but then—I +shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.” + +“Not at first, perhaps,” said the Hatter: “but you could keep it to +half-past one as long as you liked.” + +“Is that the way _you_ manage?” Alice asked. + +The Hatter shook his head mournfully. “Not I!” he replied. “We +quarrelled last March—just before _he_ went mad, you know—” (pointing +with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) “—it was at the great concert +given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing + +‘Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! +How I wonder what you’re at!’ + + +You know the song, perhaps?” + +“I’ve heard something like it,” said Alice. + +“It goes on, you know,” the Hatter continued, “in this way:— + +‘Up above the world you fly, +Like a tea-tray in the sky. + Twinkle, twinkle—’” + + +Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep +“_Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle_—” and went on so long that they +had to pinch it to make it stop. + +“Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,” said the Hatter, “when the +Queen jumped up and bawled out, ‘He’s murdering the time! Off with his +head!’” + +“How dreadfully savage!” exclaimed Alice. + +“And ever since that,” the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, “he won’t +do a thing I ask! It’s always six o’clock now.” + +A bright idea came into Alice’s head. “Is that the reason so many +tea-things are put out here?” she asked. + +“Yes, that’s it,” said the Hatter with a sigh: “it’s always tea-time, +and we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.” + +“Then you keep moving round, I suppose?” said Alice. + +“Exactly so,” said the Hatter: “as the things get used up.” + +“But what happens when you come to the beginning again?” Alice ventured +to ask. + +“Suppose we change the subject,” the March Hare interrupted, yawning. +“I’m getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.” + +“I’m afraid I don’t know one,” said Alice, rather alarmed at the +proposal. + +“Then the Dormouse shall!” they both cried. “Wake up, Dormouse!” And +they pinched it on both sides at once. + +The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. “I wasn’t asleep,” he said in a +hoarse, feeble voice: “I heard every word you fellows were saying.” + +“Tell us a story!” said the March Hare. + +“Yes, please do!” pleaded Alice. + +“And be quick about it,” added the Hatter, “or you’ll be asleep again +before it’s done.” + +“Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse began +in a great hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and +they lived at the bottom of a well—” + +“What did they live on?” said Alice, who always took a great interest +in questions of eating and drinking. + +“They lived on treacle,” said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or +two. + +“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” Alice gently remarked; +“they’d have been ill.” + +“So they were,” said the Dormouse; “_very_ ill.” + +Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of +living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: “But +why did they live at the bottom of a well?” + +“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. + +“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t +take more.” + +“You mean you can’t take _less_,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to +take _more_ than nothing.” + +“Nobody asked _your_ opinion,” said Alice. + +“Who’s making personal remarks now?” the Hatter asked triumphantly. + +Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to +some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and +repeated her question. “Why did they live at the bottom of a well?” + +The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then +said, “It was a treacle-well.” + +“There’s no such thing!” Alice was beginning very angrily, but the +Hatter and the March Hare went “Sh! sh!” and the Dormouse sulkily +remarked, “If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for +yourself.” + +“No, please go on!” Alice said very humbly; “I won’t interrupt again. I +dare say there may be _one_.” + +“One, indeed!” said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to +go on. “And so these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, +you know—” + +“What did they draw?” said Alice, quite forgetting her promise. + +“Treacle,” said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time. + +“I want a clean cup,” interrupted the Hatter: “let’s all move one place +on.” + +He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare +moved into the Dormouse’s place, and Alice rather unwillingly took the +place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any +advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than +before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. + +Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very +cautiously: “But I don’t understand. Where did they draw the treacle +from?” + +“You can draw water out of a water-well,” said the Hatter; “so I should +think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well—eh, stupid?” + +“But they were _in_ the well,” Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing +to notice this last remark. + +“Of course they were,” said the Dormouse; “—well in.” + +This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for +some time without interrupting it. + +“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing +its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; “and they drew all manner of +things—everything that begins with an M—” + +“Why with an M?” said Alice. + +“Why not?” said the March Hare. + +Alice was silent. + +The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a +doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with a +little shriek, and went on: “—that begins with an M, such as +mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say +things are “much of a muchness”—did you ever see such a thing as a +drawing of a muchness?” + +“Really, now you ask me,” said Alice, very much confused, “I don’t +think—” + +“Then you shouldn’t talk,” said the Hatter. + +This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in +great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and +neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she +looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: +the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into +the teapot. + +“At any rate I’ll never go _there_ again!” said Alice as she picked her +way through the wood. “It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in +all my life!” + +Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door +leading right into it. “That’s very curious!” she thought. “But +everything’s curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.” And +in she went. + +Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little +glass table. “Now, I’ll manage better this time,” she said to herself, +and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that +led into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom +(she had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot +high: then she walked down the little passage: and _then_—she found +herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds +and the cool fountains. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +The Queen’s Croquet-Ground + + +A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses +growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily +painting them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she +went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard +one of them say, “Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me +like that!” + +“I couldn’t help it,” said Five, in a sulky tone; “Seven jogged my +elbow.” + +On which Seven looked up and said, “That’s right, Five! Always lay the +blame on others!” + +“_You’d_ better not talk!” said Five. “I heard the Queen say only +yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!” + +“What for?” said the one who had spoken first. + +“That’s none of _your_ business, Two!” said Seven. + +“Yes, it _is_ his business!” said Five, “and I’ll tell him—it was for +bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.” + +Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun “Well, of all the unjust +things—” when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching +them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, +and all of them bowed low. + +“Would you tell me,” said Alice, a little timidly, “why you are +painting those roses?” + +Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low +voice, “Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a +_red_ rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen +was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So +you see, Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to—” At this +moment Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called +out “The Queen! The Queen!” and the three gardeners instantly threw +themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, +and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen. + +First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the +three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the +corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with +diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came +the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came +jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all +ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, +and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a +hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went +by without noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying +the King’s crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this +grand procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. + +Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face +like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard +of such a rule at processions; “and besides, what would be the use of a +procession,” thought she, “if people had all to lie down upon their +faces, so that they couldn’t see it?” So she stood still where she was, +and waited. + +When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked +at her, and the Queen said severely “Who is this?” She said it to the +Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. + +“Idiot!” said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to +Alice, she went on, “What’s your name, child?” + +“My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,” said Alice very politely; +but she added, to herself, “Why, they’re only a pack of cards, after +all. I needn’t be afraid of them!” + +“And who are _these?_” said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners +who were lying round the rose-tree; for, you see, as they were lying on +their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of +the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, +or courtiers, or three of her own children. + +“How should _I_ know?” said Alice, surprised at her own courage. “It’s +no business of _mine_.” + +The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a +moment like a wild beast, screamed “Off with her head! Off—” + +“Nonsense!” said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was +silent. + +The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said “Consider, my +dear: she is only a child!” + +The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave “Turn +them over!” + +The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. + +“Get up!” said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three +gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, +the royal children, and everybody else. + +“Leave off that!” screamed the Queen. “You make me giddy.” And then, +turning to the rose-tree, she went on, “What _have_ you been doing +here?” + +“May it please your Majesty,” said Two, in a very humble tone, going +down on one knee as he spoke, “we were trying—” + +“_I_ see!” said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. +“Off with their heads!” and the procession moved on, three of the +soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran +to Alice for protection. + +“You shan’t be beheaded!” said Alice, and she put them into a large +flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a +minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the +others. + +“Are their heads off?” shouted the Queen. + +“Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!” the soldiers shouted +in reply. + +“That’s right!” shouted the Queen. “Can you play croquet?” + +The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was +evidently meant for her. + +“Yes!” shouted Alice. + +“Come on, then!” roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, +wondering very much what would happen next. + +“It’s—it’s a very fine day!” said a timid voice at her side. She was +walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. + +“Very,” said Alice: “—where’s the Duchess?” + +“Hush! Hush!” said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked +anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon +tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered “She’s under +sentence of execution.” + +“What for?” said Alice. + +“Did you say ‘What a pity!’?” the Rabbit asked. + +“No, I didn’t,” said Alice: “I don’t think it’s at all a pity. I said +‘What for?’” + +“She boxed the Queen’s ears—” the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little +scream of laughter. “Oh, hush!” the Rabbit whispered in a frightened +tone. “The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the +Queen said—” + +“Get to your places!” shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and +people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each +other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game +began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground +in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live +hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double +themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. + +The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: +she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, +under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she +had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the +hedgehog a blow with its head, it _would_ twist itself round and look +up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help +bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was +going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog +had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all +this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she +wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were +always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice +soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. + +The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling +all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time +the Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and +shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” about once in a +minute. + +Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any +dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, +“and then,” thought she, “what would become of me? They’re dreadfully +fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there’s any +one left alive!” + +She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she +could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious +appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after +watching it a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said +to herself “It’s the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk +to.” + +“How are you getting on?” said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth +enough for it to speak with. + +Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. “It’s no use +speaking to it,” she thought, “till its ears have come, or at least one +of them.” In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put +down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad +she had someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there +was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. + +“I don’t think they play at all fairly,” Alice began, in rather a +complaining tone, “and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear +oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; at +least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea how +confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there’s the +arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the +ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, only +it ran away when it saw mine coming!” + +“How do you like the Queen?” said the Cat in a low voice. + +“Not at all,” said Alice: “she’s so extremely—” Just then she noticed +that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, +“—likely to win, that it’s hardly worth while finishing the game.” + +The Queen smiled and passed on. + +“Who _are_ you talking to?” said the King, going up to Alice, and +looking at the Cat’s head with great curiosity. + +“It’s a friend of mine—a Cheshire Cat,” said Alice: “allow me to +introduce it.” + +“I don’t like the look of it at all,” said the King: “however, it may +kiss my hand if it likes.” + +“I’d rather not,” the Cat remarked. + +“Don’t be impertinent,” said the King, “and don’t look at me like +that!” He got behind Alice as he spoke. + +“A cat may look at a king,” said Alice. “I’ve read that in some book, +but I don’t remember where.” + +“Well, it must be removed,” said the King very decidedly, and he called +the Queen, who was passing at the moment, “My dear! I wish you would +have this cat removed!” + +The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or +small. “Off with his head!” she said, without even looking round. + +“I’ll fetch the executioner myself,” said the King eagerly, and he +hurried off. + +Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going +on, as she heard the Queen’s voice in the distance, screaming with +passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be +executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look +of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew +whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. + +The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed +to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the +other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to +the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a +helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree. + +By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight +was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: “but it doesn’t +matter much,” thought Alice, “as all the arches are gone from this side +of the ground.” So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not +escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her +friend. + +When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite +a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between +the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, +while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. + +The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle +the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they +all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly +what they said. + +The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head unless +there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a +thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at _his_ time of life. + +The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be +beheaded, and that you weren’t to talk nonsense. + +The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in +less than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round. (It was +this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave and +anxious.) + +Alice could think of nothing else to say but “It belongs to the +Duchess: you’d better ask _her_ about it.” + +“She’s in prison,” the Queen said to the executioner: “fetch her here.” +And the executioner went off like an arrow. + +The Cat’s head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by the +time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so +the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, +while the rest of the party went back to the game. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +The Mock Turtle’s Story + + +“You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!” +said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice’s, +and they walked off together. + +Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought +to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so +savage when they met in the kitchen. + +“When _I’m_ a Duchess,” she said to herself, (not in a very hopeful +tone though), “I won’t have any pepper in my kitchen _at all_. Soup +does very well without—Maybe it’s always pepper that makes people +hot-tempered,” she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new +kind of rule, “and vinegar that makes them sour—and camomile that makes +them bitter—and—and barley-sugar and such things that make children +sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew _that_: then they wouldn’t be +so stingy about it, you know—” + +She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little +startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. “You’re thinking +about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can’t +tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in +a bit.” + +“Perhaps it hasn’t one,” Alice ventured to remark. + +“Tut, tut, child!” said the Duchess. “Everything’s got a moral, if only +you can find it.” And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice’s side as +she spoke. + +Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the +Duchess was _very_ ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the +right height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder, and it was an +uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she +bore it as well as she could. + +“The game’s going on rather better now,” she said, by way of keeping up +the conversation a little. + +“’Tis so,” said the Duchess: “and the moral of that is—‘Oh, ’tis love, +’tis love, that makes the world go round!’” + +“Somebody said,” Alice whispered, “that it’s done by everybody minding +their own business!” + +“Ah, well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess, digging her +sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added, “and the moral of +_that_ is—‘Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of +themselves.’” + +“How fond she is of finding morals in things!” Alice thought to +herself. + +“I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm round your waist,” +the Duchess said after a pause: “the reason is, that I’m doubtful about +the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?” + +“He might bite,” Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious +to have the experiment tried. + +“Very true,” said the Duchess: “flamingoes and mustard both bite. And +the moral of that is—‘Birds of a feather flock together.’” + +“Only mustard isn’t a bird,” Alice remarked. + +“Right, as usual,” said the Duchess: “what a clear way you have of +putting things!” + +“It’s a mineral, I _think_,” said Alice. + +“Of course it is,” said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to +everything that Alice said; “there’s a large mustard-mine near here. +And the moral of that is—‘The more there is of mine, the less there is +of yours.’” + +“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last +remark, “it’s a vegetable. It doesn’t look like one, but it is.” + +“I quite agree with you,” said the Duchess; “and the moral of that +is—‘Be what you would seem to be’—or if you’d like it put more +simply—‘Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might +appear to others that what you were or might have been was not +otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be +otherwise.’” + +“I think I should understand that better,” Alice said very politely, +“if I had it written down: but I can’t quite follow it as you say it.” + +“That’s nothing to what I could say if I chose,” the Duchess replied, +in a pleased tone. + +“Pray don’t trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,” said +Alice. + +“Oh, don’t talk about trouble!” said the Duchess. “I make you a present +of everything I’ve said as yet.” + +“A cheap sort of present!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they don’t give +birthday presents like that!” But she did not venture to say it out +loud. + +“Thinking again?” the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp +little chin. + +“I’ve a right to think,” said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to +feel a little worried. + +“Just about as much right,” said the Duchess, “as pigs have to fly; and +the m—” + +But here, to Alice’s great surprise, the Duchess’s voice died away, +even in the middle of her favourite word ‘moral,’ and the arm that was +linked into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the +Queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a +thunderstorm. + +“A fine day, your Majesty!” the Duchess began in a low, weak voice. + +“Now, I give you fair warning,” shouted the Queen, stamping on the +ground as she spoke; “either you or your head must be off, and that in +about half no time! Take your choice!” + +The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. + +“Let’s go on with the game,” the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too +much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the +croquet-ground. + +The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen’s absence, and were +resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried +back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment’s delay +would cost them their lives. + +All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling +with the other players, and shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with +her head!” Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the +soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so +that by the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and +all the players, except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody +and under sentence of execution. + +Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, “Have +you seen the Mock Turtle yet?” + +“No,” said Alice. “I don’t even know what a Mock Turtle is.” + +“It’s the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,” said the Queen. + +“I never saw one, or heard of one,” said Alice. + +“Come on, then,” said the Queen, “and he shall tell you his history,” + +As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, +to the company generally, “You are all pardoned.” “Come, _that’s_ a +good thing!” she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the +number of executions the Queen had ordered. + +They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. (If +you don’t know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) “Up, lazy +thing!” said the Queen, “and take this young lady to see the Mock +Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see after some +executions I have ordered;” and she walked off, leaving Alice alone +with the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, +but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it +as to go after that savage Queen: so she waited. + +The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till +she was out of sight: then it chuckled. “What fun!” said the Gryphon, +half to itself, half to Alice. + +“What _is_ the fun?” said Alice. + +“Why, _she_,” said the Gryphon. “It’s all her fancy, that: they never +executes nobody, you know. Come on!” + +“Everybody says ‘come on!’ here,” thought Alice, as she went slowly +after it: “I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!” + +They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, +sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came +nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She +pitied him deeply. “What is his sorrow?” she asked the Gryphon, and the +Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, “It’s all +his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!” + +So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes +full of tears, but said nothing. + +“This here young lady,” said the Gryphon, “she wants for to know your +history, she do.” + +“I’ll tell it her,” said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: “sit +down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.” + +So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to +herself, “I don’t see how he can _ever_ finish, if he doesn’t begin.” +But she waited patiently. + +“Once,” said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, “I was a real +Turtle.” + +These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an +occasional exclamation of “Hjckrrh!” from the Gryphon, and the constant +heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and +saying, “Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,” but she could not +help thinking there _must_ be more to come, so she sat still and said +nothing. + +“When we were little,” the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, +though still sobbing a little now and then, “we went to school in the +sea. The master was an old Turtle—we used to call him Tortoise—” + +“Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn’t one?” Alice asked. + +“We called him Tortoise because he taught us,” said the Mock Turtle +angrily: “really you are very dull!” + +“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple +question,” added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked +at poor Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the +Gryphon said to the Mock Turtle, “Drive on, old fellow! Don’t be all +day about it!” and he went on in these words: + +“Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn’t believe it—” + +“I never said I didn’t!” interrupted Alice. + +“You did,” said the Mock Turtle. + +“Hold your tongue!” added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. +The Mock Turtle went on. + +“We had the best of educations—in fact, we went to school every day—” + +“_I’ve_ been to a day-school, too,” said Alice; “you needn’t be so +proud as all that.” + +“With extras?” asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously. + +“Yes,” said Alice, “we learned French and music.” + +“And washing?” said the Mock Turtle. + +“Certainly not!” said Alice indignantly. + +“Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,” said the Mock Turtle in a +tone of great relief. “Now at _ours_ they had at the end of the bill, +‘French, music, _and washing_—extra.’” + +“You couldn’t have wanted it much,” said Alice; “living at the bottom +of the sea.” + +“I couldn’t afford to learn it.” said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. “I +only took the regular course.” + +“What was that?” inquired Alice. + +“Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,” the Mock Turtle +replied; “and then the different branches of Arithmetic—Ambition, +Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.” + +“I never heard of ‘Uglification,’” Alice ventured to say. “What is it?” + +The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. “What! Never heard of +uglifying!” it exclaimed. “You know what to beautify is, I suppose?” + +“Yes,” said Alice doubtfully: “it means—to—make—anything—prettier.” + +“Well, then,” the Gryphon went on, “if you don’t know what to uglify +is, you _are_ a simpleton.” + +Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so +she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said “What else had you to learn?” + +“Well, there was Mystery,” the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the +subjects on his flappers, “—Mystery, ancient and modern, with +Seaography: then Drawling—the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, +that used to come once a week: _he_ taught us Drawling, Stretching, and +Fainting in Coils.” + +“What was _that_ like?” said Alice. + +“Well, I can’t show it you myself,” the Mock Turtle said: “I’m too +stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.” + +“Hadn’t time,” said the Gryphon: “I went to the Classics master, +though. He was an old crab, _he_ was.” + +“I never went to him,” the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: “he taught +Laughing and Grief, they used to say.” + +“So he did, so he did,” said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both +creatures hid their faces in their paws. + +“And how many hours a day did you do lessons?” said Alice, in a hurry +to change the subject. + +“Ten hours the first day,” said the Mock Turtle: “nine the next, and so +on.” + +“What a curious plan!” exclaimed Alice. + +“That’s the reason they’re called lessons,” the Gryphon remarked: +“because they lessen from day to day.” + +This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little +before she made her next remark. “Then the eleventh day must have been +a holiday?” + +“Of course it was,” said the Mock Turtle. + +“And how did you manage on the twelfth?” Alice went on eagerly. + +“That’s enough about lessons,” the Gryphon interrupted in a very +decided tone: “tell her something about the games now.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. +The Lobster Quadrille + + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across +his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or +two sobs choked his voice. “Same as if he had a bone in his throat,” +said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in +the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears +running down his cheeks, he went on again:— + +“You may not have lived much under the sea—” (“I haven’t,” said +Alice)—“and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster—” +(Alice began to say “I once tasted—” but checked herself hastily, and +said “No, never”) “—so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a +Lobster Quadrille is!” + +“No, indeed,” said Alice. “What sort of a dance is it?” + +“Why,” said the Gryphon, “you first form into a line along the +sea-shore—” + +“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle. “Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; +then, when you’ve cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way—” + +“_That_ generally takes some time,” interrupted the Gryphon. + +“—you advance twice—” + +“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon. + +“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said: “advance twice, set to partners—” + +“—change lobsters, and retire in same order,” continued the Gryphon. + +“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, “you throw the—” + +“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. + +“—as far out to sea as you can—” + +“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon. + +“Turn a somersault in the sea!” cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly +about. + +“Change lobsters again!” yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. + +“Back to land again, and that’s all the first figure,” said the Mock +Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had +been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very +sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice. + +“It must be a very pretty dance,” said Alice timidly. + +“Would you like to see a little of it?” said the Mock Turtle. + +“Very much indeed,” said Alice. + +“Come, let’s try the first figure!” said the Mock Turtle to the +Gryphon. “We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?” + +“Oh, _you_ sing,” said the Gryphon. “I’ve forgotten the words.” + +So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and +then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their +forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly +and sadly:— + +“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail. +“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail. +See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! +They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance? +Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? +Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance? + +“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be +When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!” +But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance— +Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. +Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. +Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. + +“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied. +“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. +The further off from England the nearer is to France— +Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. +Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance? +Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?” + + +“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said Alice, +feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that +curious song about the whiting!” + +“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle, “they—you’ve seen them, +of course?” + +“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at dinn—” she checked herself +hastily. + +“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle, “but if you’ve +seen them so often, of course you know what they’re like.” + +“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their tails in +their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.” + +“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: “crumbs would +all wash off in the sea. But they _have_ their tails in their mouths; +and the reason is—” here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his +eyes.—“Tell her about the reason and all that,” he said to the Gryphon. + +“The reason is,” said the Gryphon, “that they _would_ go with the +lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to +fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they +couldn’t get them out again. That’s all.” + +“Thank you,” said Alice, “it’s very interesting. I never knew so much +about a whiting before.” + +“I can tell you more than that, if you like,” said the Gryphon. “Do you +know why it’s called a whiting?” + +“I never thought about it,” said Alice. “Why?” + +“_It does the boots and shoes_,” the Gryphon replied very solemnly. + +Alice was thoroughly puzzled. “Does the boots and shoes!” she repeated +in a wondering tone. + +“Why, what are _your_ shoes done with?” said the Gryphon. “I mean, what +makes them so shiny?” + +Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her +answer. “They’re done with blacking, I believe.” + +“Boots and shoes under the sea,” the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, +“are done with a whiting. Now you know.” + +“And what are they made of?” Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. + +“Soles and eels, of course,” the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: +“any shrimp could have told you that.” + +“If I’d been the whiting,” said Alice, whose thoughts were still +running on the song, “I’d have said to the porpoise, ‘Keep back, +please: we don’t want _you_ with us!’” + +“They were obliged to have him with them,” the Mock Turtle said: “no +wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.” + +“Wouldn’t it really?” said Alice in a tone of great surprise. + +“Of course not,” said the Mock Turtle: “why, if a fish came to _me_, +and told me he was going a journey, I should say ‘With what porpoise?’” + +“Don’t you mean ‘purpose’?” said Alice. + +“I mean what I say,” the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And +the Gryphon added “Come, let’s hear some of _your_ adventures.” + +“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said +Alice a little timidly: “but it’s no use going back to yesterday, +because I was a different person then.” + +“Explain all that,” said the Mock Turtle. + +“No, no! The adventures first,” said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: +“explanations take such a dreadful time.” + +So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first +saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, +the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened +their eyes and mouths so _very_ wide, but she gained courage as she +went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part +about her repeating “_You are old, Father William_,” to the +Caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the Mock +Turtle drew a long breath, and said “That’s very curious.” + +“It’s all about as curious as it can be,” said the Gryphon. + +“It all came different!” the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. “I +should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to +begin.” He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of +authority over Alice. + +“Stand up and repeat ‘’_Tis the voice of the sluggard_,’” said the +Gryphon. + +“How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!” +thought Alice; “I might as well be at school at once.” However, she got +up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster +Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came +very queer indeed:— + +“’Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, +“You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.” +As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose +Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.” + +[later editions continued as follows +When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, +And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, +But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, +His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.] + + +“That’s different from what _I_ used to say when I was a child,” said +the Gryphon. + +“Well, I never heard it before,” said the Mock Turtle; “but it sounds +uncommon nonsense.” + +Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, +wondering if anything would _ever_ happen in a natural way again. + +“I should like to have it explained,” said the Mock Turtle. + +“She can’t explain it,” said the Gryphon hastily. “Go on with the next +verse.” + +“But about his toes?” the Mock Turtle persisted. “How _could_ he turn +them out with his nose, you know?” + +“It’s the first position in dancing.” Alice said; but was dreadfully +puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. + +“Go on with the next verse,” the Gryphon repeated impatiently: “it +begins ‘_I passed by his garden_.’” + +Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come +wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:— + +“I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, +How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie—” + +[later editions continued as follows +The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, +While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. +When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, +Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: +While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, +And concluded the banquet—] + + +“What _is_ the use of repeating all that stuff,” the Mock Turtle +interrupted, “if you don’t explain it as you go on? It’s by far the +most confusing thing _I_ ever heard!” + +“Yes, I think you’d better leave off,” said the Gryphon: and Alice was +only too glad to do so. + +“Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?” the Gryphon +went on. “Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?” + +“Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,” Alice +replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, +“Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her ‘_Turtle Soup_,’ will you, old +fellow?” + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked +with sobs, to sing this:— + +“Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, +Waiting in a hot tureen! +Who for such dainties would not stoop? +Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! +Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! + Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! + Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, + Beautiful, beautiful Soup! + +“Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, +Game, or any other dish? +Who would not give all else for two p +ennyworth only of beautiful Soup? +Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? + Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! + Beau—ootiful Soo—oop! +Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, + Beautiful, beauti—FUL SOUP!” + + +“Chorus again!” cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun +to repeat it, when a cry of “The trial’s beginning!” was heard in the +distance. + +“Come on!” cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried +off, without waiting for the end of the song. + +“What trial is it?” Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only +answered “Come on!” and ran the faster, while more and more faintly +came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:— + +“Soo—oop of the e—e—evening, + Beautiful, beautiful Soup!” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +Who Stole the Tarts? + + +The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they +arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them—all sorts of little +birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was +standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard +him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one +hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the +court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so +good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them—“I wish they’d +get the trial done,” she thought, “and hand round the refreshments!” +But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at +everything about her, to pass away the time. + +Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read +about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew +the name of nearly everything there. “That’s the judge,” she said to +herself, “because of his great wig.” + +The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the +wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he +did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. + +“And that’s the jury-box,” thought Alice, “and those twelve creatures,” +(she was obliged to say “creatures,” you see, because some of them were +animals, and some were birds,) “I suppose they are the jurors.” She +said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather +proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little +girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all. However, “jury-men” +would have done just as well. + +The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. “What are +they doing?” Alice whispered to the Gryphon. “They can’t have anything +to put down yet, before the trial’s begun.” + +“They’re putting down their names,” the Gryphon whispered in reply, +“for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.” + +“Stupid things!” Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she +stopped hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, “Silence in the +court!” and the King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, +to make out who was talking. + +Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, +that all the jurors were writing down “stupid things!” on their slates, +and she could even make out that one of them didn’t know how to spell +“stupid,” and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. “A nice +muddle their slates’ll be in before the trial’s over!” thought Alice. + +One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice +could _not_ stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and +very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly +that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out +at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he +was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this +was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate. + +“Herald, read the accusation!” said the King. + +On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then +unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:— + +“The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, + All on a summer day: +The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, + And took them quite away!” + + +“Consider your verdict,” the King said to the jury. + +“Not yet, not yet!” the Rabbit hastily interrupted. “There’s a great +deal to come before that!” + +“Call the first witness,” said the King; and the White Rabbit blew +three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, “First witness!” + +The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand +and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. “I beg pardon, your +Majesty,” he began, “for bringing these in: but I hadn’t quite finished +my tea when I was sent for.” + +“You ought to have finished,” said the King. “When did you begin?” + +The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the +court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. “Fourteenth of March, I _think_ it +was,” he said. + +“Fifteenth,” said the March Hare. + +“Sixteenth,” added the Dormouse. + +“Write that down,” the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly +wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and +reduced the answer to shillings and pence. + +“Take off your hat,” the King said to the Hatter. + +“It isn’t mine,” said the Hatter. + +“_Stolen!_” the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made +a memorandum of the fact. + +“I keep them to sell,” the Hatter added as an explanation; “I’ve none +of my own. I’m a hatter.” + +Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, +who turned pale and fidgeted. + +“Give your evidence,” said the King; “and don’t be nervous, or I’ll +have you executed on the spot.” + +This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting +from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in his +confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the +bread-and-butter. + +Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled +her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to +grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave +the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was +as long as there was room for her. + +“I wish you wouldn’t squeeze so.” said the Dormouse, who was sitting +next to her. “I can hardly breathe.” + +“I can’t help it,” said Alice very meekly: “I’m growing.” + +“You’ve no right to grow _here_,” said the Dormouse. + +“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Alice more boldly: “you know you’re growing +too.” + +“Yes, but _I_ grow at a reasonable pace,” said the Dormouse: “not in +that ridiculous fashion.” And he got up very sulkily and crossed over +to the other side of the court. + +All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, +just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers +of the court, “Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!” +on which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes +off. + +“Give your evidence,” the King repeated angrily, “or I’ll have you +executed, whether you’re nervous or not.” + +“I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, +“—and I hadn’t begun my tea—not above a week or so—and what with the +bread-and-butter getting so thin—and the twinkling of the tea—” + +“The twinkling of the _what?_” said the King. + +“It _began_ with the tea,” the Hatter replied. + +“Of course twinkling begins with a T!” said the King sharply. “Do you +take me for a dunce? Go on!” + +“I’m a poor man,” the Hatter went on, “and most things twinkled after +that—only the March Hare said—” + +“I didn’t!” the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry. + +“You did!” said the Hatter. + +“I deny it!” said the March Hare. + +“He denies it,” said the King: “leave out that part.” + +“Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said—” the Hatter went on, looking +anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied +nothing, being fast asleep. + +“After that,” continued the Hatter, “I cut some more bread-and-butter—” + +“But what did the Dormouse say?” one of the jury asked. + +“That I can’t remember,” said the Hatter. + +“You _must_ remember,” remarked the King, “or I’ll have you executed.” + +The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went +down on one knee. “I’m a poor man, your Majesty,” he began. + +“You’re a _very_ poor _speaker_,” said the King. + +Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by +the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just +explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied +up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, +head first, and then sat upon it.) + +“I’m glad I’ve seen that done,” thought Alice. “I’ve so often read in +the newspapers, at the end of trials, “There was some attempts at +applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the +court,” and I never understood what it meant till now.” + +“If that’s all you know about it, you may stand down,” continued the +King. + +“I can’t go no lower,” said the Hatter: “I’m on the floor, as it is.” + +“Then you may _sit_ down,” the King replied. + +Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. + +“Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!” thought Alice. “Now we shall get +on better.” + +“I’d rather finish my tea,” said the Hatter, with an anxious look at +the Queen, who was reading the list of singers. + +“You may go,” said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, +without even waiting to put his shoes on. + +“—and just take his head off outside,” the Queen added to one of the +officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get +to the door. + +“Call the next witness!” said the King. + +The next witness was the Duchess’s cook. She carried the pepper-box in +her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the +court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. + +“Give your evidence,” said the King. + +“Shan’t,” said the cook. + +The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, +“Your Majesty must cross-examine _this_ witness.” + +“Well, if I must, I must,” the King said, with a melancholy air, and, +after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were +nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, “What are tarts made of?” + +“Pepper, mostly,” said the cook. + +“Treacle,” said a sleepy voice behind her. + +“Collar that Dormouse,” the Queen shrieked out. “Behead that Dormouse! +Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his +whiskers!” + +For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse +turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had +disappeared. + +“Never mind!” said the King, with an air of great relief. “Call the +next witness.” And he added in an undertone to the Queen, “Really, my +dear, _you_ must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my +forehead ache!” + +Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling +very curious to see what the next witness would be like, “—for they +haven’t got much evidence _yet_,” she said to herself. Imagine her +surprise, when the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill +little voice, the name “Alice!” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +Alice’s Evidence + + +“Here!” cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how +large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such +a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, +upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there +they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of +goldfish she had accidentally upset the week before. + +“Oh, I _beg_ your pardon!” she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and +began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident +of the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of +idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the +jury-box, or they would die. + +“The trial cannot proceed,” said the King in a very grave voice, “until +all the jurymen are back in their proper places—_all_,” he repeated +with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said so. + +Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put +the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its +tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon +got it out again, and put it right; “not that it signifies much,” she +said to herself; “I should think it would be _quite_ as much use in the +trial one way up as the other.” + +As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being +upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to +them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the +accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do +anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the +court. + +“What do you know about this business?” the King said to Alice. + +“Nothing,” said Alice. + +“Nothing _whatever?_” persisted the King. + +“Nothing whatever,” said Alice. + +“That’s very important,” the King said, turning to the jury. They were +just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White +Rabbit interrupted: “_Un_important, your Majesty means, of course,” he +said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as +he spoke. + +“_Un_important, of course, I meant,” the King hastily said, and went on +to himself in an undertone, + +“important—unimportant—unimportant—important—” as if he were trying +which word sounded best. + +Some of the jury wrote it down “important,” and some “unimportant.” +Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; +“but it doesn’t matter a bit,” she thought to herself. + +At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in +his note-book, cackled out “Silence!” and read out from his book, “Rule +Forty-two. _All persons more than a mile high to leave the court_.” + +Everybody looked at Alice. + +“_I’m_ not a mile high,” said Alice. + +“You are,” said the King. + +“Nearly two miles high,” added the Queen. + +“Well, I shan’t go, at any rate,” said Alice: “besides, that’s not a +regular rule: you invented it just now.” + +“It’s the oldest rule in the book,” said the King. + +“Then it ought to be Number One,” said Alice. + +The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. “Consider your +verdict,” he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. + +“There’s more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,” said the +White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; “this paper has just been +picked up.” + +“What’s in it?” said the Queen. + +“I haven’t opened it yet,” said the White Rabbit, “but it seems to be a +letter, written by the prisoner to—to somebody.” + +“It must have been that,” said the King, “unless it was written to +nobody, which isn’t usual, you know.” + +“Who is it directed to?” said one of the jurymen. + +“It isn’t directed at all,” said the White Rabbit; “in fact, there’s +nothing written on the _outside_.” He unfolded the paper as he spoke, +and added “It isn’t a letter, after all: it’s a set of verses.” + +“Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?” asked another of the jurymen. + +“No, they’re not,” said the White Rabbit, “and that’s the queerest +thing about it.” (The jury all looked puzzled.) + +“He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,” said the King. (The jury +all brightened up again.) + +“Please your Majesty,” said the Knave, “I didn’t write it, and they +can’t prove I did: there’s no name signed at the end.” + +“If you didn’t sign it,” said the King, “that only makes the matter +worse. You _must_ have meant some mischief, or else you’d have signed +your name like an honest man.” + +There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really +clever thing the King had said that day. + +“That _proves_ his guilt,” said the Queen. + +“It proves nothing of the sort!” said Alice. “Why, you don’t even know +what they’re about!” + +“Read them,” said the King. + +The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. “Where shall I begin, please +your Majesty?” he asked. + +“Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you +come to the end: then stop.” + +These were the verses the White Rabbit read:— + +“They told me you had been to her, + And mentioned me to him: +She gave me a good character, + But said I could not swim. + +He sent them word I had not gone + (We know it to be true): +If she should push the matter on, + What would become of you? + +I gave her one, they gave him two, + You gave us three or more; +They all returned from him to you, + Though they were mine before. + +If I or she should chance to be + Involved in this affair, +He trusts to you to set them free, + Exactly as we were. + +My notion was that you had been + (Before she had this fit) +An obstacle that came between + Him, and ourselves, and it. + +Don’t let him know she liked them best, + For this must ever be +A secret, kept from all the rest, + Between yourself and me.” + + +“That’s the most important piece of evidence we’ve heard yet,” said the +King, rubbing his hands; “so now let the jury—” + +“If any one of them can explain it,” said Alice, (she had grown so +large in the last few minutes that she wasn’t a bit afraid of +interrupting him,) “I’ll give him sixpence. _I_ don’t believe there’s +an atom of meaning in it.” + +The jury all wrote down on their slates, “_She_ doesn’t believe there’s +an atom of meaning in it,” but none of them attempted to explain the +paper. + +“If there’s no meaning in it,” said the King, “that saves a world of +trouble, you know, as we needn’t try to find any. And yet I don’t +know,” he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at +them with one eye; “I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. +“—_said I could not swim_—” you can’t swim, can you?” he added, turning +to the Knave. + +The Knave shook his head sadly. “Do I look like it?” he said. (Which he +certainly did _not_, being made entirely of cardboard.) + +“All right, so far,” said the King, and he went on muttering over the +verses to himself: “‘_We know it to be true_—’ that’s the jury, of +course—‘_I gave her one, they gave him two_—’ why, that must be what he +did with the tarts, you know—” + +“But, it goes on ‘_they all returned from him to you_,’” said Alice. + +“Why, there they are!” said the King triumphantly, pointing to the +tarts on the table. “Nothing can be clearer than _that_. Then +again—‘_before she had this fit_—’ you never had fits, my dear, I +think?” he said to the Queen. + +“Never!” said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard +as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his +slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily +began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long +as it lasted.) + +“Then the words don’t _fit_ you,” said the King, looking round the +court with a smile. There was a dead silence. + +“It’s a pun!” the King added in an offended tone, and everybody +laughed, “Let the jury consider their verdict,” the King said, for +about the twentieth time that day. + +“No, no!” said the Queen. “Sentence first—verdict afterwards.” + +“Stuff and nonsense!” said Alice loudly. “The idea of having the +sentence first!” + +“Hold your tongue!” said the Queen, turning purple. + +“I won’t!” said Alice. + +“Off with her head!” the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody +moved. + +“Who cares for you?” said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by +this time.) “You’re nothing but a pack of cards!” + +At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon +her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and +tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her +head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead +leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. + +“Wake up, Alice dear!” said her sister; “Why, what a long sleep you’ve +had!” + +“Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!” said Alice, and she told her +sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange +Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she +had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, “It _was_ a curious +dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.” +So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, +what a wonderful dream it had been. + + +But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her +hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all +her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, +and this was her dream:— + +First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny +hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were +looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and +see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair +that _would_ always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or +seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the +strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. + +The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the +frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she +could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends +shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen +ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby +was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed +around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the +Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, +filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock +Turtle. + +So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in +Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all +would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the +wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling +teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill +cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the +shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change +(she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the +lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock +Turtle’s heavy sobs. + +Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers +would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would +keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her +childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, +and make _their_ eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, +perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she +would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all +their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer +days. + +THE END + + + *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND *** + + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. diff --git a/search-engine/books/Dracula.txt b/search-engine/books/Dracula.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fe364c --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Dracula.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15470 @@ +Title: Dracula +Author: Bram Stoker + + DRACULA + + _by_ + + Bram Stoker + + [Illustration: colophon] + + NEW YORK + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + + _Publishers_ + + Copyright, 1897, in the United States of America, according + to Act of Congress, by Bram Stoker + + [_All rights reserved._] + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES + AT + THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y. + + + + + TO + + MY DEAR FRIEND + + HOMMY-BEG + + + + +Contents + +CHAPTER I. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER II. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER III. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER IV. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER V. Letters—Lucy and Mina +CHAPTER VI. Mina Murray’s Journal +CHAPTER VII. Cutting from “The Dailygraph,” 8 August +CHAPTER VIII. Mina Murray’s Journal +CHAPTER IX. Mina Murray’s Journal +CHAPTER X. Mina Murray’s Journal +CHAPTER XI. Lucy Westenra’s Diary +CHAPTER XII. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XIII. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XIV. Mina Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER XV. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XVI. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XVII. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XVIII. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XIX. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER XX. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER XXI. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XXII. Jonathan Harker’s Journal +CHAPTER XXIII. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XXIV. Dr. Seward’s Phonograph Diary, spoken by Van Helsing +CHAPTER XXV. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XXVI. Dr. Seward’s Diary +CHAPTER XXVII. Mina Harker’s Journal + + + + +How these papers have been placed in sequence will be made manifest in +the reading of them. All needless matters have been eliminated, so that +a history almost at variance with the possibilities of later-day belief +may stand forth as simple fact. There is throughout no statement of +past things wherein memory may err, for all the records chosen are +exactly contemporary, given from the standpoints and within the range +of knowledge of those who made them. + + + + +DRACULA + + + + +CHAPTER I + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL + +(_Kept in shorthand._) + + +_3 May. Bistritz._--Left Munich at 8:35 P. M., on 1st May, arriving at +Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an +hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I +got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the +streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived +late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The +impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the +East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is +here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish +rule. + +We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. +Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or +rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was +very good but thirsty. (_Mem._, get recipe for Mina.) I asked the +waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl,” and that, as it was a +national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the +Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I +don’t know how I should be able to get on without it. + +Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the +British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library +regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the +country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a +nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the +extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, +Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian +mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was +not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the +Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare +with our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post +town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter +here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my +travels with Mina. + +In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: +Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the +descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the +East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended +from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered +the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. I +read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the +horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of +imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (_Mem._, I +must ask the Count all about them.) + +I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had +all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my +window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been +the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was +still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous +knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then. +I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour +which they said was “mamaliga,” and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a +very excellent dish, which they call “impletata.” (_Mem._, get recipe +for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little +before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to +the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour +before we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go the +more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China? + +All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of +beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the +top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by +rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side +of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, and +running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At every +station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts +of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I +saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats +and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women +looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy +about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, +and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something +fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there +were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the +Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy +hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous +heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass +nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and +had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very +picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be +set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, +however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural +self-assertion. + +It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a +very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier--for the +Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy +existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series +of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate +occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent +a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war +proper being assisted by famine and disease. + +Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I +found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of +course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was +evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a +cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white +undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff +fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and +said, “The Herr Englishman?” “Yes,” I said, “Jonathan Harker.” She +smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, +who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with +a letter:-- + + “My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting + you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will + start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo + Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust + that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you + will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land. + +“Your friend, + +“DRACULA.” + + +_4 May._--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, +directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on +making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and +pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be +true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he +answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old +lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of +way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that +was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could +tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, +and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak +further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask +any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means +comforting. + +Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a +very hysterical way: + +“Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?” She was in such an excited +state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and +mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I +was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her +that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, +she asked again: + +“Do you know what day it is?” I answered that it was the fourth of May. +She shook her head as she said again: + +“Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?” On +my saying that I did not understand, she went on: + +“It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that to-night, when +the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have +full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?” +She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but +without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me not +to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very +ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business +to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore +tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked +her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and +dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I +did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been +taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it +seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a +state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the +rosary round my neck, and said, “For your mother’s sake,” and went out +of the room. I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting +for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still +round my neck. Whether it is the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly +traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I +am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book should +ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes the +coach! + + * * * * * + +_5 May. The Castle._--The grey of the morning has passed, and the sun is +high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or +hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are +mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, +naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to put +down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I +left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what they +called “robber steak”--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red +pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple +style of the London cat’s meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which +produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not +disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else. + +When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him +talking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me, for every +now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting +on the bench outside the door--which they call by a name meaning +“word-bearer”--came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them +pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for +there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglot +dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not +cheering to me, for amongst them were “Ordog”--Satan, “pokol”--hell, +“stregoica”--witch, “vrolok” and “vlkoslak”--both of which mean the same +thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is +either were-wolf or vampire. (_Mem._, I must ask the Count about these +superstitions) + +When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time +swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and +pointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got a +fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer at +first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a +charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for me, +just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man; but every one +seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I +could not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I +had of the inn-yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing +themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background of +rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the +centre of the yard. Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered +the whole front of the box-seat--“gotza” they call them--cracked his big +whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on +our journey. + +I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the +scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or rather +languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not have +been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping +land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned +with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to the +road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom--apple, +plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under +the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these +green hills of what they call here the “Mittel Land” ran the road, +losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the +straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the +hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we +seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then +what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no +time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime +excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter +snows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in +the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept +in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the +Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, +and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point. + +Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes +of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right +and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon +them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, +deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where +grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and +pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where +the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the +mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again +the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as +we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered +peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to +be right before us:-- + +“Look! Isten szek!”--“God’s seat!”--and he crossed himself reverently. + +As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind +us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was +emphasised by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the +sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there +we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed +that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, +and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there +was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even +turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of +devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were +many things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here +and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems +shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now and +again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasant’s cart--with its +long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the +road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming +peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their +coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long +staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold, +and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the +gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which +ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the +Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of +late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods +that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of +greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a +peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and +grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset +threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the +Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the +hills were so steep that, despite our driver’s haste, the horses could +only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, +but the driver would not hear of it. “No, no,” he said; “you must not +walk here; the dogs are too fierce”; and then he added, with what he +evidently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the +approving smile of the rest--“and you may have enough of such matters +before you go to sleep.” The only stop he would make was a moment’s +pause to light his lamps. + +When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the +passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as +though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully +with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on +to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of +patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the +hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach +rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a +stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared +to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each +side and to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. One +by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed +upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial; these were +certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good +faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of +fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at +Bistritz--the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. +Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the +passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the +darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either +happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would +give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for +some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on +the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the +air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the +mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got +into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance +which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the +glare of lamps through the blackness; but all was dark. The only light +was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our +hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy +road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. +The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock +my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when +the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I +could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone; I +thought it was “An hour less than the time.” Then turning to me, he said +in German worse than my own:-- + +“There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will +now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or the next day; better +the next day.” Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and +snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, +amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing +of themselves, a calèche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook +us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our +lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and +splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown +beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I +could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red +in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He said to the driver:-- + +“You are early to-night, my friend.” The man stammered in reply:-- + +“The English Herr was in a hurry,” to which the stranger replied:-- + +“That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot +deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift.” As he +spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with +very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my +companions whispered to another the line from Burger’s “Lenore”:-- + + “Denn die Todten reiten schnell”-- + (“For the dead travel fast.”) + +The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a +gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time +putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. “Give me the Herr’s +luggage,” said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my bags were +handed out and put in the calèche. Then I descended from the side of the +coach, as the calèche was close alongside, the driver helping me with a +hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have been +prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we +swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw the steam +from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projected +against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Then +the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swept +on their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a +strange chill, and a lonely feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown +over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in +excellent German:-- + +“The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take all +care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the +country) underneath the seat, if you should require it.” I did not take +any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt a +little strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there been +any alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that +unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, +then we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It +seemed to me that we were simply going over and over the same ground +again; and so I took note of some salient point, and found that this was +so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but +I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any +protest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention to +delay. By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was +passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch; it was +within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I +suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my +recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense. + +Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road--a +long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by +another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which +now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed +to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp +it through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to +strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they +quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from +sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each +side of us began a louder and a sharper howling--that of wolves--which +affected both the horses and myself in the same way--for I was minded to +jump from the calèche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged +madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them +from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to +the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able +to descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and +whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers +doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became +quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again +took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This +time, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a +narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right. + +Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the +roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great frowning +rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we +could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the +rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. +It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, +so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The +keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew +fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer +and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I +grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, +however, was not in the least disturbed; he kept turning his head to +left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness. + +Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The +driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses, and, +jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know +what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer; but while +I wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took +his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep +and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated +endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. +Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness +around us I could watch the driver’s motions. He went rapidly to where +the blue flame arose--it must have been very faint, for it did not seem +to illumine the place around it at all--and gathering a few stones, +formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange optical +effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, +for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but +as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me +straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue +flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the +wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle. + +At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he +had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse +than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause +for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but just +then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the +jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw +around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, +with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more +terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. +For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man +feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand +their true import. + +All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had +some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and +looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see; +but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side; and they +had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for +it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the +ring and to aid his approach. I shouted and beat the side of the +calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as +to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know +not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and +looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his +long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves +fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across +the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness. + +When I could see again the driver was climbing into the calèche, and the +wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a +dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time +seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete +darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on +ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main +always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the +driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a +vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, +and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit +sky. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL--_continued_ + + +_5 May._--I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully +awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In +the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark +ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than +it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight. + +When the calèche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand +to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious +strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have +crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took out my traps, and placed +them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and +studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of +massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was +massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and +weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the +reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one +of the dark openings. + +I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell +or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and dark +window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The +time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon +me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? +What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? Was this a +customary incident in the life of a solicitor’s clerk sent out to +explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor’s +clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor--for just before leaving +London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a +full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if +I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I +expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with +the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt +in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the +pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake +and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to +wait the coming of the morning. + +Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching +behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming +light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of +massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise +of long disuse, and the great door swung back. + +Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white +moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck +of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver +lamp, in which the flame burned without chimney or globe of any kind, +throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the +open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly +gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation:-- + +“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!” He made no +motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his +gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that +I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and +holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, +an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as +ice--more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:-- + +“Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the +happiness you bring!” The strength of the handshake was so much akin to +that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that +for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was +speaking; so to make sure, I said interrogatively:-- + +“Count Dracula?” He bowed in a courtly way as he replied:-- + +“I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in; +the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest.” As he was +speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, +took my luggage; he had carried it in before I could forestall him. I +protested but he insisted:-- + +“Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not +available. Let me see to your comfort myself.” He insisted on carrying +my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and +along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang +heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced +to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, +and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, +flamed and flared. + +The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing +the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit +by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing +through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a +welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with +another log fire,--also added to but lately, for the top logs were +fresh--which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself +left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the +door:-- + +“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your +toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come +into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared.” + +The light and warmth and the Count’s courteous welcome seemed to have +dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, +I discovered that I was half famished with hunger; so making a hasty +toilet, I went into the other room. + +I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the +great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of +his hand to the table, and said:-- + +“I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse +me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not sup.” + +I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. +He opened it and read it gravely; then, with a charming smile, he handed +it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of +pleasure. + +“I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant +sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to +come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in +whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy +and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is +discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall +be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take +your instructions in all matters.” + +The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I +fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese +and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two glasses, was +my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many +questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had +experienced. + +By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s desire had drawn +up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, +at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an +opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked +physiognomy. + +His face was a strong--a very strong--aquiline, with high bridge of the +thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and +hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His +eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy +hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I +could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather +cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over +the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a +man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops +extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm +though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor. + +Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees +in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing +them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather +coarse--broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in +the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp +point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not +repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a +horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could +not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a +grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his +protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the +fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the +window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a +strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from +down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes +gleamed, and he said:-- + +“Listen to them--the children of the night. What music they make!” +Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he +added:-- + +“Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the +hunter.” Then he rose and said:-- + +“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you +shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon; +so sleep well and dream well!” With a courteous bow, he opened for me +himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom.... + +I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, +which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the +sake of those dear to me! + + * * * * * + +_7 May._--It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the +last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my +own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had +supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the +pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, on which +was written:-- + +“I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.--D.” I set to and +enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so that I +might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not find one. +There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the +extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service +is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. +The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of +my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have +been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, +though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, +but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of +the rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my +table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I +could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant +anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. +Some time after I had finished my meal--I do not know whether to call it +breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o’clock when I had +it--I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about +the castle until I had asked the Count’s permission. There was +absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing +materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of +library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked. + +In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English +books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and +newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines +and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The books +were of the most varied kind--history, geography, politics, political +economy, botany, geology, law--all relating to England and English life +and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the +London Directory, the “Red” and “Blue” books, Whitaker’s Almanac, the +Army and Navy Lists, and--it somehow gladdened my heart to see it--the +Law List. + +Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count +entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a good +night’s rest. Then he went on:-- + +“I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that +will interest you. These companions”--and he laid his hand on some of +the books--“have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever +since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours +of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to +know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of +your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of +humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes +it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books. +To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak.” + +“But, Count,” I said, “you know and speak English thoroughly!” He bowed +gravely. + +“I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate, but yet I +fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I know +the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to speak them.” + +“Indeed,” I said, “you speak excellently.” + +“Not so,” he answered. “Well, I know that, did I move and speak in your +London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That is not +enough for me. Here I am noble; I am _boyar_; the common people know me, +and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men +know him not--and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am +like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or pause in his +speaking if he hear my words, ‘Ha, ha! a stranger!’ I have been so long +master that I would be master still--or at least that none other should +be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter +Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London. You +shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, so that by our talking I may +learn the English intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make +error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be +away so long to-day; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many +important affairs in hand.” + +Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might +come into that room when I chose. He answered: “Yes, certainly,” and +added:-- + +“You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are +locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that +all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with +my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand.” I said I was sure of +this, and then he went on:-- + +“We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are +not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from +what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of +what strange things there may be.” + +This led to much conversation; and as it was evident that he wanted to +talk, if only for talking’s sake, I asked him many questions regarding +things that had already happened to me or come within my notice. +Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by +pretending not to understand; but generally he answered all I asked most +frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I asked +him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as, for +instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue +flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a +certain night of the year--last night, in fact, when all evil spirits +are supposed to have unchecked sway--a blue flame is seen over any place +where treasure has been concealed. “That treasure has been hidden,” he +went on, “in the region through which you came last night, there can be +but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the +Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil +in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, +patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the +Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out +to meet them--men and women, the aged and the children too--and waited +their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep +destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader +was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been +sheltered in the friendly soil.” + +“But how,” said I, “can it have remained so long undiscovered, when +there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?” +The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long, +sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely; he answered:-- + +“Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only +appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he +can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he +would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who +marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight +even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to +find these places again?” + +“There you are right,” I said. “I know no more than the dead where even +to look for them.” Then we drifted into other matters. + +“Come,” he said at last, “tell me of London and of the house which you +have procured for me.” With an apology for my remissness, I went into my +own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them in +order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I +passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp +lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit +in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, +reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw’s Guide. When I +came in he cleared the books and papers from the table; and with him I +went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was interested in +everything, and asked me a myriad questions about the place and its +surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the +subject of the neighbourhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much +more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered:-- + +“Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there +I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan--nay, pardon me, I +fall into my country’s habit of putting your patronymic first--my friend +Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be +in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my +other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!” + +We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at +Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to the +necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post to +Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a +place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and which I +inscribe here:-- + +“At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to +be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place +was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, +built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of +years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with +rust. + +“The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old _Quatre +Face_, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of +the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by +the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which +make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or +small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and +flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all +periods back, I should say, to mediæval times, for one part is of stone +immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with +iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or +church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading +to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from +various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling +way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must +be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very +large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic +asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds.” + +When I had finished, he said:-- + +“I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to +live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a +day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice +also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love +not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not +gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and +sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; +and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is not +attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the +shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken +battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would +be alone with my thoughts when I may.” Somehow his words and his look +did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his +smile look malignant and saturnine. + +Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all my papers +together. He was some little time away, and I began to look at some of +the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found opened naturally at +England, as if that map had been much used. On looking at it I found in +certain places little rings marked, and on examining these I noticed +that one was near London on the east side, manifestly where his new +estate was situated; the other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the +Yorkshire coast. + +It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. “Aha!” he +said; “still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come; I +am informed that your supper is ready.” He took my arm, and we went into +the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the table. The +Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on his being away from +home. But he sat as on the previous night, and chatted whilst I ate. +After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed with +me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable subject, hour +after hour. I felt that it was getting very late indeed, but I did not +say anything, for I felt under obligation to meet my host’s wishes in +every way. I was not sleepy, as the long sleep yesterday had fortified +me; but I could not help experiencing that chill which comes over one at +the coming of the dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide. +They say that people who are near death die generally at the change to +the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one who has when tired, and +tied as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere +can well believe it. All at once we heard the crow of a cock coming up +with preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air; Count +Dracula, jumping to his feet, said:-- + +“Why, there is the morning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so +long. You must make your conversation regarding my dear new country of +England less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by +us,” and, with a courtly bow, he quickly left me. + +I went into my own room and drew the curtains, but there was little to +notice; my window opened into the courtyard, all I could see was the +warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again, and have +written of this day. + + * * * * * + +_8 May._--I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too +diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for +there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I +cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had +never come. It may be that this strange night-existence is telling on +me; but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I +could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak with, +and he!--I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. Let +me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me to bear up, and +imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say +at once how I stand--or seem to. + +I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could +not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the window, +and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, +and heard the Count’s voice saying to me, “Good-morning.” I started, for +it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass +covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, +but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count’s +salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. +This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I +could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in +the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no +sign of a man in it, except myself. This was startling, and, coming on +the top of so many strange things, was beginning to increase that vague +feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at +the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood was +trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so half +round to look for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his +eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at +my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which +held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed +so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there. + +“Take care,” he said, “take care how you cut yourself. It is more +dangerous than you think in this country.” Then seizing the shaving +glass, he went on: “And this is the wretched thing that has done the +mischief. It is a foul bauble of man’s vanity. Away with it!” and +opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung +out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones +of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very +annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or +the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal. + +When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared; but I could +not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange that +as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must be a very +peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle. I +went out on the stairs, and found a room looking towards the South. The +view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity +of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A +stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without +touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree +tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and +there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through +the forests. + +But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I +explored further; doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and +bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there +an available exit. + +The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL--_continued_ + + +When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. +I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of +every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my +helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a +few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much +as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me +that I was helpless I sat down quietly--as quietly as I have ever done +anything in my life--and began to think over what was best to be done. I +am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of +one thing only am I certain; that it is no use making my ideas known to +the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it +himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive +me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only +plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes +open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, +or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and +shall need, all my brains to get through. + +I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below +shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come at once into +the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making +the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along +thought--that there were no servants in the house. When later I saw him +through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the +dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all these +menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. +This gave me a fright, for if there is no one else in the castle, it +must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that +brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it +mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his +hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the +coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the +crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless +that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a +comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing +which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous +should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there +is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, +a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some +time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my +mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count +Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of +himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, +however, not to awake his suspicion. + + * * * * * + +_Midnight._--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few +questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject +wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of +battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he +afterwards explained by saying that to a _boyar_ the pride of his house +and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their +fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his house he always said “we,” +and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I wish I could put +down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most +fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country. He +grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great +white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as +though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I +shall put down as nearly as I can; for it tells in its way the story of +his race:-- + +“We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the blood +of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship. Here, +in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down from +Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their +Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, ay, +and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the +were-wolves themselves had come. Here, too, when they came, they found +the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, +till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those +old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the +desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as +Attila, whose blood is in these veins?” He held up his arms. “Is it a +wonder that we were a conquering race; that we were proud; that when the +Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his +thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when +Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us +here when he reached the frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed +there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were +claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries +was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay, and more +than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as the Turks say, +‘water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.’ Who more gladly than we +throughout the Four Nations received the ‘bloody sword,’ or at its +warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was +redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the +flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent? Who +was it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat +the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that +his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the +Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, +indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and +again brought his forces over the great river into Turkey-land; who, +when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had +to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being +slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They +said that he thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants +without a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heart to +conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohács, we threw off the +Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for +our spirit would not brook that we were not free. Ah, young sir, the +Szekelys--and the Dracula as their heart’s blood, their brains, and +their swords--can boast a record that mushroom growths like the +Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The warlike days are over. +Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and +the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.” + +It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (_Mem._, this +diary seems horribly like the beginning of the “Arabian Nights,” for +everything has to break off at cockcrow--or like the ghost of Hamlet’s +father.) + + * * * * * + +_12 May._--Let me begin with facts--bare, meagre facts, verified by +books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not +confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own +observation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came from +his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and on the +doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily over +books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some of the +matters I had been examining at Lincoln’s Inn. There was a certain +method in the Count’s inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in +sequence; the knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to me. + +First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or more. I +told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it would not be +wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one transaction, as only +one could act at a time, and that to change would be certain to militate +against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to understand, and went on to +ask if there would be any practical difficulty in having one man to +attend, say, to banking, and another to look after shipping, in case +local help were needed in a place far from the home of the banking +solicitor. I asked him to explain more fully, so that I might not by any +chance mislead him, so he said:-- + +“I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins, from under +the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which is far from +London, buys for me through your good self my place at London. Good! Now +here let me say frankly, lest you should think it strange that I have +sought the services of one so far off from London instead of some one +resident there, that my motive was that no local interest might be +served save my wish only; and as one of London residence might, perhaps, +have some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus afield to +seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my interest. Now, suppose +I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or +Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it not be that it could with more +ease be done by consigning to one in these ports?” I answered that +certainly it would be most easy, but that we solicitors had a system of +agency one for the other, so that local work could be done locally on +instruction from any solicitor, so that the client, simply placing +himself in the hands of one man, could have his wishes carried out by +him without further trouble. + +“But,” said he, “I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not so?” + +“Of course,” I replied; and “such is often done by men of business, who +do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by any one person.” + +“Good!” he said, and then went on to ask about the means of making +consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of +difficulties which might arise, but by forethought could be guarded +against. I explained all these things to him to the best of my ability, +and he certainly left me under the impression that he would have made a +wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not think of or +foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who did not +evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and acumen were +wonderful. When he had satisfied himself on these points of which he had +spoken, and I had verified all as well as I could by the books +available, he suddenly stood up and said:-- + +“Have you written since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter +Hawkins, or to any other?” It was with some bitterness in my heart that +I answered that I had not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of +sending letters to anybody. + +“Then write now, my young friend,” he said, laying a heavy hand on my +shoulder: “write to our friend and to any other; and say, if it will +please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now.” + +“Do you wish me to stay so long?” I asked, for my heart grew cold at the +thought. + +“I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master, +employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his behalf, +it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I have not +stinted. Is it not so?” + +What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins’s interest, not +mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and besides, while Count +Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing +which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I +could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his +mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, but +in his own smooth, resistless way:-- + +“I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of things +other than business in your letters. It will doubtless please your +friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to getting +home to them. Is it not so?” As he spoke he handed me three sheets of +note-paper and three envelopes. They were all of the thinnest foreign +post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing his quiet smile, +with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red underlip, I understood +as well as if he had spoken that I should be careful what I wrote, for +he would be able to read it. So I determined to write only formal notes +now, but to write fully to Mr. Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for +to her I could write in shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he +did see it. When I had written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a +book whilst the Count wrote several notes, referring as he wrote them to +some books on his table. Then he took up my two and placed them with his +own, and put by his writing materials, after which, the instant the door +had closed behind him, I leaned over and looked at the letters, which +were face down on the table. I felt no compunction in doing so, for +under the circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way +I could. + +One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7, The +Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna; the third was to +Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, +bankers, Buda-Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I was just +about to look at them when I saw the door-handle move. I sank back in my +seat, having just had time to replace the letters as they had been and +to resume my book before the Count, holding still another letter in his +hand, entered the room. He took up the letters on the table and stamped +them carefully, and then turning to me, said:-- + +“I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in private this +evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish.” At the door he +turned, and after a moment’s pause said:-- + +“Let me advise you, my dear young friend--nay, let me warn you with all +seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any +chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and has +many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be +warned! Should sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then +haste to your own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be +safe. But if you be not careful in this respect, then”--He finished his +speech in a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were +washing them. I quite understood; my only doubt was as to whether any +dream could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom +and mystery which seemed closing around me. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--I endorse the last words written, but this time there is no +doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where he is +not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed--I imagine that +my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall remain. + +When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not hearing any +sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where I could look out +towards the South. There was some sense of freedom in the vast expanse, +inaccessible though it was to me, as compared with the narrow darkness +of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I was indeed in +prison, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air, though it were of +the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. +It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own shadow, and am full of all +sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows that there is ground for my +terrible fear in this accursed place! I looked out over the beautiful +expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as +day. In the soft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows +in the valleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed +to cheer me; there was peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I +leaned from the window my eye was caught by something moving a storey +below me, and somewhat to my left, where I imagined, from the order of +the rooms, that the windows of the Count’s own room would look out. The +window at which I stood was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though +weatherworn, was still complete; but it was evidently many a day since +the case had been there. I drew back behind the stonework, and looked +carefully out. + +What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the window. I did not +see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his +back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had +so many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested and +somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest +and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to +repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the +window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, +_face down_ with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At +first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the +moonlight, some weird effect of shadow; but I kept looking, and it could +be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the +stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus +using every projection and inequality move downwards with considerable +speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall. + +What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in the +semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering +me; I am in fear--in awful fear--and there is no escape for me; I am +encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of.... + + * * * * * + +_15 May._--Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion. +He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet down, and a good +deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or window. When his head +had disappeared, I leaned out to try and see more, but without +avail--the distance was too great to allow a proper angle of sight. I +knew he had left the castle now, and thought to use the opportunity to +explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went back to the room, and +taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were all locked, as I had +expected, and the locks were comparatively new; but I went down the +stone stairs to the hall where I had entered originally. I found I could +pull back the bolts easily enough and unhook the great chains; but the +door was locked, and the key was gone! That key must be in the Count’s +room; I must watch should his door be unlocked, so that I may get it and +escape. I went on to make a thorough examination of the various stairs +and passages, and to try the doors that opened from them. One or two +small rooms near the hall were open, but there was nothing to see in +them except old furniture, dusty with age and moth-eaten. At last, +however, I found one door at the top of the stairway which, though it +seemed to be locked, gave a little under pressure. I tried it harder, +and found that it was not really locked, but that the resistance came +from the fact that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door +rested on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have +again, so I exerted myself, and with many efforts forced it back so that +I could enter. I was now in a wing of the castle further to the right +than the rooms I knew and a storey lower down. From the windows I could +see that the suite of rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the +windows of the end room looking out both west and south. On the latter +side, as well as to the former, there was a great precipice. The castle +was built on the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was +quite impregnable, and great windows were placed here where sling, or +bow, or culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort, +impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. To the +west was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged +mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with +mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and +crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion of the castle +occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more air of +comfort than any I had seen. The windows were curtainless, and the +yellow moonlight, flooding in through the diamond panes, enabled one to +see even colours, whilst it softened the wealth of dust which lay over +all and disguised in some measure the ravages of time and the moth. My +lamp seemed to be of little effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was +glad to have it with me, for there was a dread loneliness in the place +which chilled my heart and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better +than living alone in the rooms which I had come to hate from the +presence of the Count, and after trying a little to school my nerves, I +found a soft quietude come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak +table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much +thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my +diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is +nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my +senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own +which mere “modernity” cannot kill. + + * * * * * + +_Later: the Morning of 16 May._--God preserve my sanity, for to this I +am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the past. +Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that I may not +go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, then surely it +is maddening to think that of all the foul things that lurk in this +hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me; that to him alone I +can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I can serve his +purpose. Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way +lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights on certain things which +have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant +when he made Hamlet say:-- + + “My tablets! quick, my tablets! + ’Tis meet that I put it down,” etc., + +for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock +had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. +The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me. + +The Count’s mysterious warning frightened me at the time; it frightens +me more now when I think of it, for in future he has a fearful hold upon +me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say! + +When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book and +pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count’s warning came into my mind, +but I took a pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was upon me, +and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The soft +moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of freedom +which refreshed me. I determined not to return to-night to the +gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat +and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for +their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a great +couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I lay, I could look +at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking of and uncaring for +the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must have fallen +asleep; I hope so, but I fear, for all that followed was startlingly +real--so real that now sitting here in the broad, full sunlight of the +morning, I cannot in the least believe that it was all sleep. + +I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I +came into it; I could see along the floor, in the brilliant moonlight, +my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long accumulation of +dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young women, ladies by +their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I must be dreaming +when I saw them, for, though the moonlight was behind them, they threw +no shadow on the floor. They came close to me, and looked at me for some +time, and then whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline +noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be +almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was +fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes +like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it +in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the +moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like +pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something +about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some +deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would +kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note this down, lest some +day it should meet Mina’s eyes and cause her pain; but it is the truth. +They whispered together, and then they all three laughed--such a +silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have +come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, +tingling sweetness of water-glasses when played on by a cunning hand. +The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her +on. One said:-- + +“Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to +begin.” The other added:-- + +“He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all.” I lay quiet, +looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation. +The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement +of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent +the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter +underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood. + +I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under +the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply +gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling +and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips +like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining +on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp +teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of +my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat. Then she +paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked +her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the +skin of my throat began to tingle as one’s flesh does when the hand that +is to tickle it approaches nearer--nearer. I could feel the soft, +shivering touch of the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, +and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. +I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited--waited with beating +heart. + +But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick as +lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his +being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened involuntarily I +saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with +giant’s power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the +white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with +passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such wrath and fury, even to +the demons of the pit. His eyes were positively blazing. The red light +in them was lurid, as if the flames of hell-fire blazed behind them. His +face was deathly pale, and the lines of it were hard like drawn wires; +the thick eyebrows that met over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar +of white-hot metal. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman +from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating +them back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the +wolves. In a voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemed to +cut through the air and then ring round the room he said:-- + +“How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when +I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware +how you meddle with him, or you’ll have to deal with me.” The fair girl, +with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:-- + +“You yourself never loved; you never love!” On this the other women +joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the +room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure +of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, +and said in a soft whisper:-- + +“Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it +not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall +kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work +to be done.” + +“Are we to have nothing to-night?” said one of them, with a low laugh, +as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and which +moved as though there were some living thing within it. For answer he +nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my +ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a +half-smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with +horror; but as I looked they disappeared, and with them the dreadful +bag. There was no door near them, and they could not have passed me +without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into the rays of the +moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could see outside the +dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely faded away. + +Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL--_continued_ + + +I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count must +have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject, but +could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there were +certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid by +in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, and I am +rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and +many such details. But these things are no proof, for they may have been +evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, from some cause or +another, I had certainly been much upset. I must watch for proof. Of one +thing I am glad: if it was that the Count carried me here and undressed +me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets are intact. I +am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would not +have brooked. He would have taken or destroyed it. As I look round this +room, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of +sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who +were--who _are_--waiting to suck my blood. + + * * * * * + +_18 May._--I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for +I _must_ know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the +stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the +jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the bolt +of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside. +I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise. + + * * * * * + +_19 May._--I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count asked me in +the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here +was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, +another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of the +letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at +Bistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state +of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I +am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his +suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and +that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to +prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a +chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath +which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained +to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would +ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much +impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would +be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my +prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new +suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and asked +him what dates I should put on the letters. He calculated a minute, and +then said:-- + +“The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June +29.” + +I know now the span of my life. God help me! + + * * * * * + +_28 May._--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able to +send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are +encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes of +them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though +allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands +of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law. +They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or _boyar_, and +call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion, +save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany +tongue. + +I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have them +posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin +acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many +signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could +their spoken language.... + + * * * * * + +I have written the letters. Mina’s is in shorthand, and I simply ask Mr. +Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my situation, +but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would shock and +frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. Should the +letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the +extent of my knowledge.... + + * * * * * + +I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window +with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. The +man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them +in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to +read. As the Count did not come in, I have written here.... + + * * * * * + +The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest +voice as he opened two letters:-- + +“The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they +come, I shall, of course, take care. See!”--he must have looked at +it--“one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other”--here +he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and +the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly--“the +other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is +not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us.” And he calmly held letter +and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he +went on:-- + +“The letter to Hawkins--that I shall, of course, send on, since it is +yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that +unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?” He held +out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean +envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When +he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later +I went over and tried it, and the door was locked. + +When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, his +coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very +courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been +sleeping, he said:-- + +“So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I +may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many labours +to me; but you will sleep, I pray.” I passed to my room and went to bed, +and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms. + + * * * * * + +_31 May._--This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself +with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so +that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a +surprise, again a shock! + +Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, +relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that +might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered +awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my +portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes. + +The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and +rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new +scheme of villainy.... + + * * * * * + +_17 June._--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed +cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and pounding +and scraping of horses’ feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard. +With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two great +leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of +each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty +sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I +ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the +main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a +shock: my door was fastened on the outside. + +Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me +stupidly and pointed, but just then the “hetman” of the Szgany came out, +and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which they +laughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonised +entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away. +The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick +rope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks +handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. When +they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of the +yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting on +it for luck, lazily went each to his horse’s head. Shortly afterwards, I +heard the cracking of their whips die away in the distance. + + * * * * * + +_24 June, before morning._--Last night the Count left me early, and +locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the +winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I +thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on. +The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of +some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled sound +as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some +ruthless villainy. + +I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw +something coming out of the Count’s window. I drew back and watched +carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to +find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst +travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I +had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest, +and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will +allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave +evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own +letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local +people be attributed to me. + +It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up +here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which +is even a criminal’s right and consolation. + +I thought I would watch for the Count’s return, and for a long time sat +doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some +quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were +like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in +clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of +soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the +embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more +fully the aërial gambolling. + +Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far +below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to +ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to +the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to +awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling, +and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I +was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; the +moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom +beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom +shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my +senses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which were +becoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the +three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat +safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp +was burning brightly. + +When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the +Count’s room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and then +there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a +beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and +could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried. + +As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without--the agonised cry of a +woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out between +the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her +hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning +against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window she +threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:-- + +“Monster, give me my child!” + +She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the same +words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her +breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagant +emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see +her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door. + +Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the +Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be +answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes +had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, +through the wide entrance into the courtyard. + +There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but +short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips. + +I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and +she was better dead. + +What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful +thing of night and gloom and fear? + + * * * * * + +_25 June, morning._--No man knows till he has suffered from the night +how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the +sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great +gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me +as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as +if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. I must +take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon me. Last +night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first of that fatal +series which is to blot out the very traces of my existence from the +earth. + +Let me not think of it. Action! + +It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or +threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the +Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, that +he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his room! +But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no way for me. + +Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone +why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his +window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The +chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall risk +it. At the worst it can only be death; and a man’s death is not a +calf’s, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help me +in my task! Good-bye, Mina, if I fail; good-bye, my faithful friend and +second father; good-bye, all, and last of all Mina! + + * * * * * + +_Same day, later._--I have made the effort, and God, helping me, have +come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. I +went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south +side, and at once got outside on the narrow ledge of stone which runs +around the building on this side. The stones are big and roughly cut, +and the mortar has by process of time been washed away between them. I +took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate way. I looked down +once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of the awful depth would +not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes away from it. I knew pretty +well the direction and distance of the Count’s window, and made for it +as well as I could, having regard to the opportunities available. I did +not feel dizzy--I suppose I was too excited--and the time seemed +ridiculously short till I found myself standing on the window-sill and +trying to raise up the sash. I was filled with agitation, however, when +I bent down and slid feet foremost in through the window. Then I looked +around for the Count, but, with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. +The room was empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which +seemed to have never been used; the furniture was something the same +style as that in the south rooms, and was covered with dust. I looked +for the key, but it was not in the lock, and I could not find it +anywhere. The only thing I found was a great heap of gold in one +corner--gold of all kinds, Roman, and British, and Austrian, and +Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, covered with a film of dust, as +though it had lain long in the ground. None of it that I noticed was +less than three hundred years old. There were also chains and ornaments, +some jewelled, but all of them old and stained. + +At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I +could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which +was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or +all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone +passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. I descended, +minding carefully where I went, for the stairs were dark, being only lit +by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there was a dark, +tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly odour, the +odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through the passage the smell +grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a heavy door which stood +ajar, and found myself in an old, ruined chapel, which had evidently +been used as a graveyard. The roof was broken, and in two places were +steps leading to vaults, but the ground had recently been dug over, and +the earth placed in great wooden boxes, manifestly those which had been +brought by the Slovaks. There was nobody about, and I made search for +any further outlet, but there was none. Then I went over every inch of +the ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down even into the +vaults, where the dim light struggled, although to do so was a dread to +my very soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments +of old coffins and piles of dust; in the third, however, I made a +discovery. + +There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in all, on a +pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead or asleep, I +could not say which--for the eyes were open and stony, but without the +glassiness of death--and the cheeks had the warmth of life through all +their pallor; the lips were as red as ever. But there was no sign of +movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. I bent over him, +and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He could not have lain +there long, for the earthy smell would have passed away in a few hours. +By the side of the box was its cover, pierced with holes here and there. +I thought he might have the keys on him, but when I went to search I saw +the dead eyes, and in them, dead though they were, such a look of hate, +though unconscious of me or my presence, that I fled from the place, and +leaving the Count’s room by the window, crawled again up the castle +wall. Regaining my room, I threw myself panting upon the bed and tried +to think.... + + * * * * * + +_29 June._--To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has +taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave the +castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down the wall, +lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might +destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man’s hand would +have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared +to see those weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read there +till I fell asleep. + +I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can +look as he said:-- + +“To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful +England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never +meet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not be +here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the +Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some +Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall +bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to +Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle +Dracula.” I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity. +Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write it in +connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:-- + +“Why may I not go to-night?” + +“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission.” + +“But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.” He smiled, +such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was some trick +behind his smoothness. He said:-- + +“And your baggage?” + +“I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time.” + +The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me rub my +eyes, it seemed so real:-- + +“You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is +that which rules our _boyars_: ‘Welcome the coming; speed the parting +guest.’ Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait +in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that +you so suddenly desire it. Come!” With a stately gravity, he, with the +lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he +stopped. + +“Hark!” + +Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if the +sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a great +orchestra seems to leap under the bâton of the conductor. After a pause +of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back +the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it +open. + +To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously, I +looked all round, but could see no key of any kind. + +As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louder +and angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed +feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then that +to struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With such +allies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But still the door +continued slowly to open, and only the Count’s body stood in the gap. +Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my +doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There +was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and +as a last chance I cried out:-- + +“Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!” and covered my face with my +hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep of his +powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged +and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their places. + +In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went +to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand +to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that +Judas in hell might be proud of. + +When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a +whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my ears +deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:-- + +“Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have +patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!” There was a low, +sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw +without the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared they +all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away. + +I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so near +the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am +dear! + + * * * * * + +_30 June, morning._--These may be the last words I ever write in this +diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself +on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me +ready. + +At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning +had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I was safe. +With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the hall. I had seen +that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands +that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back the +massive bolts. + +But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at +the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its +casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left the +Count. + +Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I +determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count’s +room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of +evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled +down the wall, as before, into the Count’s room. It was empty, but that +was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold +remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the winding +stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now well +enough where to find the monster I sought. + +The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid +was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in their +places to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the key, so +I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and then I saw +something which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count, +but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the white hair +and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the cheeks were fuller, +and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder than +ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the +corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the deep, +burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches +underneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature were +simply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his +repletion. I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in +me revolted at the contact; but I had to search, or I was lost. The +coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar way to those +horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of the +key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile +on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I +was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come +he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and +create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the +helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me +to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, +but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the +cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the +hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full +upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to +paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, +merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my +hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade +caught the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid +thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, +blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held its +own in the nethermost hell. + +I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain seemed +on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over me. As I +waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry voices coming +closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the +cracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count had +spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box which +contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the Count’s +room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should be opened. +With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of the +key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There must +have been some other means of entry, or some one had a key for one of +the locked doors. Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and +dying away in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to +run down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance; +but at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the +door to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from +the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it was +hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing +round me more closely. + +As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feet +and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes, +with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering; it is the +box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping again +along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind them. + +The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of the key +in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door opens and +shuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt. + +Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy wheels, +the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they pass into the +distance. + +I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a woman, +and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit! + +I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the castle wall +farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold with +me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful place. + +And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away +from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his +children still walk with earthly feet! + +At least God’s mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the +precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep--as a man. +Good-bye, all! Mina! + + + + +CHAPTER V + +_Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra._ + + +“_9 May._ + +“My dearest Lucy,-- + +“Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed +with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying. +I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together +freely and build our castles in the air. I have been working very hard +lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan’s studies, and I have +been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall +be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I +can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for +him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard. He +and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a +stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I +shall keep a diary in the same way. I don’t mean one of those +two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a +sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined. I do not +suppose there will be much of interest to other people; but it is not +intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it +anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try +to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing +descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with +a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears +said during a day. However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little +plans when we meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan +from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I +am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice to see strange +countries. I wonder if we--I mean Jonathan and I--shall ever see them +together. There is the ten o’clock bell ringing. Good-bye. + +“Your loving + +“MINA. + +“Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for +a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, +curly-haired man???” + + +_Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray_. + +“_17, Chatham Street_, + +“_Wednesday_. + +“My dearest Mina,-- + +“I must say you tax me _very_ unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I +wrote to you _twice_ since we parted, and your last letter was only your +_second_. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing +to interest you. Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a good deal +to picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As to the +tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who was with me at the +last Pop. Some one has evidently been telling tales. That was Mr. +Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and mamma get on very well +together; they have so many things to talk about in common. We met some +time ago a man that would just _do for you_, if you were not already +engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent _parti_, being handsome, well +off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He +is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all under +his own care. Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and he called here to +see us, and often comes now. I think he is one of the most resolute men +I ever saw, and yet the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I +can fancy what a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has +a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to +read one’s thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter +myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do +you ever try to read your own face? _I do_, and I can tell you it is not +a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you +have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological +study, and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient +interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a +bore. That is slang again, but never mind; Arthur says that every day. +There, it is all out. Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other +since we were _children_; we have slept together and eaten together, and +laughed and cried together; and now, though I have spoken, I would like +to speak more. Oh, Mina, couldn’t you guess? I love him. I am blushing +as I write, for although I _think_ he loves me, he has not told me so in +words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! There, that +does me good. I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire +undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel. +I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, +or I should tear up the letter, and I don’t want to stop, for I _do_ so +want to tell you all. Let me hear from you _at once_, and tell me all +that you think about it. Mina, I must stop. Good-night. Bless me in your +prayers; and, Mina, pray for my happiness. + +“LUCY. + +“P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. Good-night again. + +“L.” + +_Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray_. + +“_24 May_. + +“My dearest Mina,-- + +“Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It was so +nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy. + +“My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. +Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a +proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had three. +Just fancy! THREE proposals in one day! Isn’t it awful! I feel sorry, +really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I am so +happy that I don’t know what to do with myself. And three proposals! +But, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell any of the girls, or they would be +getting all sorts of extravagant ideas and imagining themselves injured +and slighted if in their very first day at home they did not get six at +least. Some girls are so vain! You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and +are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can +despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the three, but you must keep +it a secret, dear, from _every one_, except, of course, Jonathan. You +will tell him, because I would, if I were in your place, certainly tell +Arthur. A woman ought to tell her husband everything--don’t you think +so, dear?--and I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to +be quite as fair as they are; and women, I am afraid, are not always +quite as fair as they should be. Well, my dear, number One came just +before lunch. I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum +man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool +outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling +himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he +almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don’t generally do +when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept +playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to +me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, +though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to +help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I +did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute +and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if +I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled, +and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one +else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my +confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman’s heart was +free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to +tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he +stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my +hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever +wanted a friend I must count him one of my best. Oh, Mina dear, I can’t +help crying: and you must excuse this letter being all blotted. Being +proposed to is all very nice and all that sort of thing, but it isn’t at +all a happy thing when you have to see a poor fellow, whom you know +loves you honestly, going away and looking all broken-hearted, and to +know that, no matter what he may say at the moment, you are passing +quite out of his life. My dear, I must stop here at present, I feel so +miserable, though I am so happy. + +“_Evening._ + +“Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I left +off, so I can go on telling you about the day. Well, my dear, number Two +came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and +he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he +has been to so many places and has had such adventures. I sympathise +with poor Desdemona when she had such a dangerous stream poured in her +ear, even by a black man. I suppose that we women are such cowards that +we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now +what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I +don’t, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never +told any, and yet---- My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincey P. +Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl +alone. No, he doesn’t, for Arthur tried twice to _make_ a chance, and I +helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you +beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn’t always speak slang--that is to say, +he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well +educated and has exquisite manners--but he found out that it amused me +to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there +was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. I am afraid, my +dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he +has to say. But this is a way slang has. I do not know myself if I shall +ever speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never +heard him use any as yet. Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked +as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was +very nervous. He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly:-- + +“‘Miss Lucy, I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your +little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you +will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won’t +you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road +together, driving in double harness?’ + +“Well, he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn’t seem +half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as +lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I +wasn’t broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in +a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so +on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him. He +really did look serious when he was saying it, and I couldn’t help +feeling a bit serious too--I know, Mina, you will think me a horrid +flirt--though I couldn’t help feeling a sort of exultation that he was +number two in one day. And then, my dear, before I could say a word he +began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very +heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall +never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, +because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face +which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of +manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free:-- + +“‘Lucy, you are an honest-hearted girl, I know. I should not be here +speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe you clean grit, right +through to the very depths of your soul. Tell me, like one good fellow +to another, is there any one else that you care for? And if there is +I’ll never trouble you a hair’s breadth again, but will be, if you will +let me, a very faithful friend.’ + +“My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy +of them? Here was I almost making fun of this great-hearted, true +gentleman. I burst into tears--I am afraid, my dear, you will think +this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one--and I really felt very +badly. Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want +her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say +it. I am glad to say that, though I was crying, I was able to look into +Mr. Morris’s brave eyes, and I told him out straight:-- + +“‘Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me yet that he +even loves me.’ I was right to speak to him so frankly, for quite a +light came into his face, and he put out both his hands and took mine--I +think I put them into his--and said in a hearty way:-- + +“‘That’s my brave girl. It’s better worth being late for a chance of +winning you than being in time for any other girl in the world. Don’t +cry, my dear. If it’s for me, I’m a hard nut to crack; and I take it +standing up. If that other fellow doesn’t know his happiness, well, he’d +better look for it soon, or he’ll have to deal with me. Little girl, +your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that’s rarer than a +lover; it’s more unselfish anyhow. My dear, I’m going to have a pretty +lonely walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won’t you give me one kiss? +It’ll be something to keep off the darkness now and then. You can, you +know, if you like, for that other good fellow--he must be a good fellow, +my dear, and a fine fellow, or you could not love him--hasn’t spoken +yet.’ That quite won me, Mina, for it _was_ brave and sweet of him, and +noble, too, to a rival--wasn’t it?--and he so sad; so I leant over and +kissed him. He stood up with my two hands in his, and as he looked down +into my face--I am afraid I was blushing very much--he said:-- + +“‘Little girl, I hold your hand, and you’ve kissed me, and if these +things don’t make us friends nothing ever will. Thank you for your sweet +honesty to me, and good-bye.’ He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, +went straight out of the room without looking back, without a tear or a +quiver or a pause; and I am crying like a baby. Oh, why must a man like +that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls about who would +worship the very ground he trod on? I know I would if I were free--only +I don’t want to be free. My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I +cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I +don’t wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy. + +“Ever your loving + +“LUCY. + +“P.S.--Oh, about number Three--I needn’t tell you of number Three, need +I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his +coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was +kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don’t know what I have done to +deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not +ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a +lover, such a husband, and such a friend. + +“Good-bye.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +(Kept in phonograph) + +_25 May._--Ebb tide in appetite to-day. Cannot eat, cannot rest, so +diary instead. Since my rebuff of yesterday I have a sort of empty +feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth +the doing.... As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing was +work, I went down amongst the patients. I picked out one who has +afforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint that I am +determined to understand him as well as I can. To-day I seemed to get +nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery. + +I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to making +myself master of the facts of his hallucination. In my manner of doing +it there was, I now see, something of cruelty. I seemed to wish to keep +him to the point of his madness--a thing which I avoid with the patients +as I would the mouth of hell. + +(_Mem._, under what circumstances would I _not_ avoid the pit of hell?) +_Omnia Romæ venalia sunt._ Hell has its price! _verb. sap._ If there be +anything behind this instinct it will be valuable to trace it afterwards +_accurately_, so I had better commence to do so, therefore-- + +R. M. Renfield, ætat 59.--Sanguine temperament; great physical strength; +morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, ending in some fixed idea which I +cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine temperament itself and the +disturbing influence end in a mentally-accomplished finish; a possibly +dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In selfish men caution +is as secure an armour for their foes as for themselves. What I think of +on this point is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is +balanced with the centrifugal; when duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed +point, the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of +accidents can balance it. + + +_Letter, Quincey P. Morris to Hon. Arthur Holmwood._ + +“_25 May._ + +“My dear Art,-- + +“We’ve told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and dressed one +another’s wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas; and drunk +healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be told, and +other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. Won’t you let +this be at my camp-fire to-morrow night? I have no hesitation in asking +you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a certain dinner-party, and +that you are free. There will only be one other, our old pal at the +Korea, Jack Seward. He’s coming, too, and we both want to mingle our +weeps over the wine-cup, and to drink a health with all our hearts to +the happiest man in all the wide world, who has won the noblest heart +that God has made and the best worth winning. We promise you a hearty +welcome, and a loving greeting, and a health as true as your own right +hand. We shall both swear to leave you at home if you drink too deep to +a certain pair of eyes. Come! + +“Yours, as ever and always, + +“QUINCEY P. MORRIS.” + + +_Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P. Morris._ + +“_26 May._ + +“Count me in every time. I bear messages which will make both your ears +tingle. + +“ART.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MINA MURRAY’S JOURNAL + + +_24 July. Whitby._--Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and +lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in +which they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little river, the +Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the +harbour. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the +view seems somehow further away than it really is. The valley is +beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land +on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to +see down. The houses of the old town--the side away from us--are all +red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the +pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby +Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of +“Marmion,” where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble +ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is +a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and +the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big +graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in +Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the +harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness +stretches out into the sea. It descends so steeply over the harbour that +part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been +destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches +out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside +them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long +looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come and +sit here very often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing now, with my +book on my knee, and listening to the talk of three old men who are +sitting beside me. They seem to do nothing all day but sit up here and +talk. + +The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall +stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in +the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside +of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, +and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a +narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens. + +It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to +nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between +banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbour on this +side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of +which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of +it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a +mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is +lost bells are heard out at sea. I must ask the old man about this; he +is coming this way.... + +He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his face is all +gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He tells me that he is +nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing +fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical +person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady +at the abbey he said very brusquely:-- + +“I wouldn’t fash masel’ about them, miss. Them things be all wore out. +Mind, I don’t say that they never was, but I do say that they wasn’t in +my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers, an’ the like, +but not for a nice young lady like you. Them feet-folks from York and +Leeds that be always eatin’ cured herrin’s an’ drinkin’ tea an’ lookin’ +out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder masel’ who’d be +bothered tellin’ lies to them--even the newspapers, which is full of +fool-talk.” I thought he would be a good person to learn interesting +things from, so I asked him if he would mind telling me something about +the whale-fishing in the old days. He was just settling himself to begin +when the clock struck six, whereupon he laboured to get up, and said:-- + +“I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn’t like +to be kept waitin’ when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to +crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of ’em; an’, miss, I lack +belly-timber sairly by the clock.” + +He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he could, down +the steps. The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from +the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them--I do not know how +many--and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that +a horse could easily walk up and down them. I think they must originally +have had something to do with the abbey. I shall go home too. Lucy went +out visiting with her mother, and as they were only duty calls, I did +not go. They will be home by this. + + * * * * * + +_1 August._--I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most +interesting talk with my old friend and the two others who always come +and join him. He is evidently the Sir Oracle of them, and I should think +must have been in his time a most dictatorial person. He will not admit +anything, and downfaces everybody. If he can’t out-argue them he bullies +them, and then takes their silence for agreement with his views. Lucy +was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn frock; she has got a +beautiful colour since she has been here. I noticed that the old men did +not lose any time in coming up and sitting near her when we sat down. +She is so sweet with old people; I think they all fell in love with her +on the spot. Even my old man succumbed and did not contradict her, but +gave me double share instead. I got him on the subject of the legends, +and he went off at once into a sort of sermon. I must try to remember it +and put it down:-- + +“It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel; that’s what it be, an’ +nowt else. These bans an’ wafts an’ boh-ghosts an’ barguests an’ bogles +an’ all anent them is only fit to set bairns an’ dizzy women +a-belderin’. They be nowt but air-blebs. They, an’ all grims an’ signs +an’ warnin’s, be all invented by parsons an’ illsome beuk-bodies an’ +railway touters to skeer an’ scunner hafflin’s, an’ to get folks to do +somethin’ that they don’t other incline to. It makes me ireful to think +o’ them. Why, it’s them that, not content with printin’ lies on paper +an’ preachin’ them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin’ them on the +tombstones. Look here all around you in what airt ye will; all them +steans, holdin’ up their heads as well as they can out of their pride, +is acant--simply tumblin’ down with the weight o’ the lies wrote on +them, ‘Here lies the body’ or ‘Sacred to the memory’ wrote on all of +them, an’ yet in nigh half of them there bean’t no bodies at all; an’ +the memories of them bean’t cared a pinch of snuff about, much less +sacred. Lies all of them, nothin’ but lies of one kind or another! My +gog, but it’ll be a quare scowderment at the Day of Judgment when they +come tumblin’ up in their death-sarks, all jouped together an’ tryin’ to +drag their tombsteans with them to prove how good they was; some of them +trimmlin’ and ditherin’, with their hands that dozzened an’ slippy from +lyin’ in the sea that they can’t even keep their grup o’ them.” + +I could see from the old fellow’s self-satisfied air and the way in +which he looked round for the approval of his cronies that he was +“showing off,” so I put in a word to keep him going:-- + +“Oh, Mr. Swales, you can’t be serious. Surely these tombstones are not +all wrong?” + +“Yabblins! There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin’ where they make +out the people too good; for there be folk that do think a balm-bowl be +like the sea, if only it be their own. The whole thing be only lies. Now +look you here; you come here a stranger, an’ you see this kirk-garth.” I +nodded, for I thought it better to assent, though I did not quite +understand his dialect. I knew it had something to do with the church. +He went on: “And you consate that all these steans be aboon folk that be +happed here, snod an’ snog?” I assented again. “Then that be just where +the lie comes in. Why, there be scores of these lay-beds that be toom as +old Dun’s ’bacca-box on Friday night.” He nudged one of his companions, +and they all laughed. “And my gog! how could they be otherwise? Look at +that one, the aftest abaft the bier-bank: read it!” I went over and +read:-- + +“Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by pirates off the coast of +Andres, April, 1854, æt. 30.” When I came back Mr. Swales went on:-- + +“Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murdered off the coast +of Andres! an’ you consated his body lay under! Why, I could name ye a +dozen whose bones lie in the Greenland seas above”--he pointed +northwards--“or where the currents may have drifted them. There be the +steans around ye. Ye can, with your young eyes, read the small-print of +the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowrey--I knew his father, lost in +the _Lively_ off Greenland in ’20; or Andrew Woodhouse, drowned in the +same seas in 1777; or John Paxton, drowned off Cape Farewell a year +later; or old John Rawlings, whose grandfather sailed with me, drowned +in the Gulf of Finland in ’50. Do ye think that all these men will have +to make a rush to Whitby when the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums +aboot it! I tell ye that when they got here they’d be jommlin’ an’ +jostlin’ one another that way that it ’ud be like a fight up on the ice +in the old days, when we’d be at one another from daylight to dark, an’ +tryin’ to tie up our cuts by the light of the aurora borealis.” This was +evidently local pleasantry, for the old man cackled over it, and his +cronies joined in with gusto. + +“But,” I said, “surely you are not quite correct, for you start on the +assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will have to +take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgment. Do you think +that will be really necessary?” + +“Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, miss!” + +“To please their relatives, I suppose.” + +“To please their relatives, you suppose!” This he said with intense +scorn. “How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies is wrote +over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be lies?” He +pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a slab, on +which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff. “Read the +lies on that thruff-stean,” he said. The letters were upside down to me +from where I sat, but Lucy was more opposite to them, so she leant over +and read:-- + +“Sacred to the memory of George Canon, who died, in the hope of a +glorious resurrection, on July, 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at +Kettleness. This tomb was erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly +beloved son. ‘He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.’ +Really, Mr. Swales, I don’t see anything very funny in that!” She spoke +her comment very gravely and somewhat severely. + +“Ye don’t see aught funny! Ha! ha! But that’s because ye don’t gawm the +sorrowin’ mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was +acrewk’d--a regular lamiter he was--an’ he hated her so that he +committed suicide in order that she mightn’t get an insurance she put on +his life. He blew nigh the top of his head off with an old musket that +they had for scarin’ the crows with. ’Twarn’t for crows then, for it +brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That’s the way he fell off the +rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrection, I’ve often heard him +say masel’ that he hoped he’d go to hell, for his mother was so pious +that she’d be sure to go to heaven, an’ he didn’t want to addle where +she was. Now isn’t that stean at any rate”--he hammered it with his +stick as he spoke--“a pack of lies? and won’t it make Gabriel keckle +when Geordie comes pantin’ up the grees with the tombstean balanced on +his hump, and asks it to be took as evidence!” + +I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation as she +said, rising up:-- + +“Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite seat, and I cannot +leave it; and now I find I must go on sitting over the grave of a +suicide.” + +“That won’t harm ye, my pretty; an’ it may make poor Geordie gladsome to +have so trim a lass sittin’ on his lap. That won’t hurt ye. Why, I’ve +sat here off an’ on for nigh twenty years past, an’ it hasn’t done me +no harm. Don’t ye fash about them as lies under ye, or that doesn’ lie +there either! It’ll be time for ye to be getting scart when ye see the +tombsteans all run away with, and the place as bare as a stubble-field. +There’s the clock, an’ I must gang. My service to ye, ladies!” And off +he hobbled. + +Lucy and I sat awhile, and it was all so beautiful before us that we +took hands as we sat; and she told me all over again about Arthur and +their coming marriage. That made me just a little heart-sick, for I +haven’t heard from Jonathan for a whole month. + + * * * * * + +_The same day._ I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no +letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter with Jonathan. +The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights scattered all over the +town, sometimes in rows where the streets are, and sometimes singly; +they run right up the Esk and die away in the curve of the valley. To my +left the view is cut off by a black line of roof of the old house next +the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating in the fields away behind +me, and there is a clatter of a donkey’s hoofs up the paved road below. +The band on the pier is playing a harsh waltz in good time, and further +along the quay there is a Salvation Army meeting in a back street. +Neither of the bands hears the other, but up here I hear and see them +both. I wonder where Jonathan is and if he is thinking of me! I wish he +were here. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_5 June._--The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more I get to +understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely developed; +selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. I wish I could get at what is the +object of the latter. He seems to have some settled scheme of his own, +but what it is I do not yet know. His redeeming quality is a love of +animals, though, indeed, he has such curious turns in it that I +sometimes imagine he is only abnormally cruel. His pets are of odd +sorts. Just now his hobby is catching flies. He has at present such a +quantity that I have had myself to expostulate. To my astonishment, he +did not break out into a fury, as I expected, but took the matter in +simple seriousness. He thought for a moment, and then said: “May I have +three days? I shall clear them away.” Of course, I said that would do. I +must watch him. + + * * * * * + +_18 June._--He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has got several +very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them with his flies, and +the number of the latter is becoming sensibly diminished, although he +has used half his food in attracting more flies from outside to his +room. + + * * * * * + +_1 July._--His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his +flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid of them. He looked +very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of them, at all +events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the same time +as before for reduction. He disgusted me much while with him, for when a +horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room, +he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger +and thumb, and, before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his +mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it +was very good and very wholesome; that it was life, strong life, and +gave life to him. This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of one. I must +watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has evidently some deep problem +in his mind, for he keeps a little note-book in which he is always +jotting down something. Whole pages of it are filled with masses of +figures, generally single numbers added up in batches, and then the +totals added in batches again, as though he were “focussing” some +account, as the auditors put it. + + * * * * * + +_8 July._--There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in +my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, +unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the wall to your +conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for a few days, so that I +might notice if there were any change. Things remain as they were except +that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new one. He has +managed to get a sparrow, and has already partially tamed it. His means +of taming is simple, for already the spiders have diminished. Those that +do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies by +tempting them with his food. + + * * * * * + +_19 July._--We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of +sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I came +in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour--a very, +very great favour; and as he spoke he fawned on me like a dog. I asked +him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his voice and +bearing:-- + +“A kitten, a nice little, sleek playful kitten, that I can play with, +and teach, and feed--and feed--and feed!” I was not unprepared for this +request, for I had noticed how his pets went on increasing in size and +vivacity, but I did not care that his pretty family of tame sparrows +should be wiped out in the same manner as the flies and the spiders; so +I said I would see about it, and asked him if he would not rather have a +cat than a kitten. His eagerness betrayed him as he answered:-- + +“Oh, yes, I would like a cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you should +refuse me a cat. No one would refuse me a kitten, would they?” I shook +my head, and said that at present I feared it would not be possible, but +that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could see a warning of +danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong look which meant +killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal maniac. I shall test him +with his present craving and see how it will work out; then I shall know +more. + + * * * * * + +_10 p. m._--I have visited him again and found him sitting in a corner +brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before me and +implored me to let him have a cat; that his salvation depended upon it. +I was firm, however, and told him that he could not have it, whereupon +he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the corner +where I had found him. I shall see him in the morning early. + + * * * * * + +_20 July._--Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his +rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar, +which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his +fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I +looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they +were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away. +There were a few feathers about the room and on his pillow a drop of +blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper to report to me if +there were anything odd about him during the day. + + * * * * * + +_11 a. m._--The attendant has just been to me to say that Renfield has +been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. “My belief is, +doctor,” he said, “that he has eaten his birds, and that he just took +and ate them raw!” + + * * * * * + +_11 p. m._--I gave Renfield a strong opiate to-night, enough to make +even him sleep, and took away his pocket-book to look at it. The thought +that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and the theory +proved. My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to +invent a new classification for him, and call him a zoöphagous +(life-eating) maniac; what he desires is to absorb as many lives as he +can, and he has laid himself out to achieve it in a cumulative way. He +gave many flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then +wanted a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later +steps? It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It +might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at +vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science +in its most difficult and vital aspect--the knowledge of the brain? Had +I even the secret of one such mind--did I hold the key to the fancy of +even one lunatic--I might advance my own branch of science to a pitch +compared with which Burdon-Sanderson’s physiology or Ferrier’s +brain-knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient +cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good +cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an +exceptional brain, congenitally? + +How well the man reasoned; lunatics always do within their own scope. I +wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has +closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How +many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? + +To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, +and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great +Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to +profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be +angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on +hopeless and work. Work! work! + +If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there--a +good, unselfish cause to make me work--that would be indeed happiness. + + +_Mina Murray’s Journal._ + +_26 July._--I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here; it +is like whispering to one’s self and listening at the same time. And +there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it +different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. I +had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned; but +yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a letter from +him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he said the enclosed +had just been received. It is only a line dated from Castle Dracula, +and says that he is just starting for home. That is not like Jonathan; +I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy. Then, too, Lucy, +although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in +her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided +that I am to lock the door of our room every night. Mrs. Westenra has +got an idea that sleep-walkers always go out on roofs of houses and +along the edges of cliffs and then get suddenly wakened and fall over +with a despairing cry that echoes all over the place. Poor dear, she is +naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells me that her husband, Lucy’s +father, had the same habit; that he would get up in the night and dress +himself and go out, if he were not stopped. Lucy is to be married in the +autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is +to be arranged. I sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan +and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to +make both ends meet. Mr. Holmwood--he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only +son of Lord Godalming--is coming up here very shortly--as soon as he can +leave town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is +counting the moments till he comes. She wants to take him up to the seat +on the churchyard cliff and show him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it +is the waiting which disturbs her; she will be all right when he +arrives. + + * * * * * + +_27 July._--No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about him, +though why I should I do not know; but I do wish that he would write, if +it were only a single line. Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I +am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so +hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually +being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and +wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy’s health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been +suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken seriously +ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch +her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely +rose-pink. She has lost that anæmic look which she had. I pray it will +all last. + + * * * * * + +_3 August._--Another week gone, and no news from Jonathan, not even to +Mr. Hawkins, from whom I have heard. Oh, I do hope he is not ill. He +surely would have written. I look at that last letter of his, but +somehow it does not satisfy me. It does not read like him, and yet it is +his writing. There is no mistake of that. Lucy has not walked much in +her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concentration about her +which I do not understand; even in her sleep she seems to be watching +me. She tries the door, and finding it locked, goes about the room +searching for the key. + +_6 August._--Another three days, and no news. This suspense is getting +dreadful. If I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I should +feel easier; but no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last +letter. I must only pray to God for patience. Lucy is more excitable +than ever, but is otherwise well. Last night was very threatening, and +the fishermen say that we are in for a storm. I must try to watch it and +learn the weather signs. To-day is a grey day, and the sun as I write is +hidden in thick clouds, high over Kettleness. Everything is grey--except +the green grass, which seems like emerald amongst it; grey earthy rock; +grey clouds, tinged with the sunburst at the far edge, hang over the +grey sea, into which the sand-points stretch like grey fingers. The sea +is tumbling in over the shallows and the sandy flats with a roar, +muffled in the sea-mists drifting inland. The horizon is lost in a grey +mist. All is vastness; the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and +there is a “brool” over the sea that sounds like some presage of doom. +Dark figures are on the beach here and there, sometimes half shrouded in +the mist, and seem “men like trees walking.” The fishing-boats are +racing for home, and rise and dip in the ground swell as they sweep into +the harbour, bending to the scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. He is +making straight for me, and I can see, by the way he lifts his hat, that +he wants to talk.... + +I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he sat +down beside me, he said in a very gentle way:-- + +“I want to say something to you, miss.” I could see he was not at ease, +so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in mine and asked him to speak +fully; so he said, leaving his hand in mine:-- + +“I’m afraid, my deary, that I must have shocked you by all the wicked +things I’ve been sayin’ about the dead, and such like, for weeks past; +but I didn’t mean them, and I want ye to remember that when I’m gone. We +aud folks that be daffled, and with one foot abaft the krok-hooal, don’t +altogether like to think of it, and we don’t want to feel scart of it; +an’ that’s why I’ve took to makin’ light of it, so that I’d cheer up my +own heart a bit. But, Lord love ye, miss, I ain’t afraid of dyin’, not a +bit; only I don’t want to die if I can help it. My time must be nigh at +hand now, for I be aud, and a hundred years is too much for any man to +expect; and I’m so nigh it that the Aud Man is already whettin’ his +scythe. Ye see, I can’t get out o’ the habit of caffin’ about it all at +once; the chafts will wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of +Death will sound his trumpet for me. But don’t ye dooal an’ greet, my +deary!”--for he saw that I was crying--“if he should come this very +night I’d not refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only a +waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’; and death be all that +we can rightly depend on. But I’m content, for it’s comin’ to me, my +deary, and comin’ quick. It may be comin’ while we be lookin’ and +wonderin’. Maybe it’s in that wind out over the sea that’s bringin’ with +it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look! look!” he +cried suddenly. “There’s something in that wind and in the hoast beyont +that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like death. It’s in the +air; I feel it comin’. Lord, make me answer cheerful when my call +comes!” He held up his arms devoutly, and raised his hat. His mouth +moved as though he were praying. After a few minutes’ silence, he got +up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, and said good-bye, and hobbled +off. It all touched me, and upset me very much. + +I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spy-glass under his +arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the time +kept looking at a strange ship. + +“I can’t make her out,” he said; “she’s a Russian, by the look of her; +but she’s knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn’t know her mind +a bit; she seems to see the storm coming, but can’t decide whether to +run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there again! She is +steered mighty strangely, for she doesn’t mind the hand on the wheel; +changes about with every puff of wind. We’ll hear more of her before +this time to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CUTTING FROM “THE DAILYGRAPH,” 8 AUGUST + + +(_Pasted in Mina Murray’s Journal._) + +From a Correspondent. + +_Whitby_. + +One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been +experienced here, with results both strange and unique. The weather had +been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree uncommon in the month of +August. Saturday evening was as fine as was ever known, and the great +body of holiday-makers laid out yesterday for visits to Mulgrave Woods, +Robin Hood’s Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes, and the various trips in +the neighbourhood of Whitby. The steamers _Emma_ and _Scarborough_ made +trips up and down the coast, and there was an unusual amount of +“tripping” both to and from Whitby. The day was unusually fine till the +afternoon, when some of the gossips who frequent the East Cliff +churchyard, and from that commanding eminence watch the wide sweep of +sea visible to the north and east, called attention to a sudden show of +“mares’-tails” high in the sky to the north-west. The wind was then +blowing from the south-west in the mild degree which in barometrical +language is ranked “No. 2: light breeze.” The coastguard on duty at once +made report, and one old fisherman, who for more than half a century has +kept watch on weather signs from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic +manner the coming of a sudden storm. The approach of sunset was so very +beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly-coloured clouds, that +there was quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in the old +churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before the sun dipped below the black +mass of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, its +downward way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset-colour--flame, +purple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold; with here and +there masses not large, but of seemingly absolute blackness, in all +sorts of shapes, as well outlined as colossal silhouettes. The +experience was not lost on the painters, and doubtless some of the +sketches of the “Prelude to the Great Storm” will grace the R. A. and R. +I. walls in May next. More than one captain made up his mind then and +there that his “cobble” or his “mule,” as they term the different +classes of boats, would remain in the harbour till the storm had passed. +The wind fell away entirely during the evening, and at midnight there +was a dead calm, a sultry heat, and that prevailing intensity which, on +the approach of thunder, affects persons of a sensitive nature. There +were but few lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting steamers, +which usually “hug” the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and but +few fishing-boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable was a foreign +schooner with all sails set, which was seemingly going westwards. The +foolhardiness or ignorance of her officers was a prolific theme for +comment whilst she remained in sight, and efforts were made to signal +her to reduce sail in face of her danger. Before the night shut down she +was seen with sails idly flapping as she gently rolled on the undulating +swell of the sea, + + “As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.” + +Shortly before ten o’clock the stillness of the air grew quite +oppressive, and the silence was so marked that the bleating of a sheep +inland or the barking of a dog in the town was distinctly heard, and the +band on the pier, with its lively French air, was like a discord in the +great harmony of nature’s silence. A little after midnight came a +strange sound from over the sea, and high overhead the air began to +carry a strange, faint, hollow booming. + +Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity which, at the +time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards is impossible to realize, +the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed. The waves rose in +growing fury, each overtopping its fellow, till in a very few minutes +the lately glassy sea was like a roaring and devouring monster. +White-crested waves beat madly on the level sands and rushed up the +shelving cliffs; others broke over the piers, and with their spume swept +the lanthorns of the lighthouses which rise from the end of either pier +of Whitby Harbour. The wind roared like thunder, and blew with such +force that it was with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet, +or clung with grim clasp to the iron stanchions. It was found necessary +to clear the entire piers from the mass of onlookers, or else the +fatalities of the night would have been increased manifold. To add to +the difficulties and dangers of the time, masses of sea-fog came +drifting inland--white, wet clouds, which swept by in ghostly fashion, +so dank and damp and cold that it needed but little effort of +imagination to think that the spirits of those lost at sea were +touching their living brethren with the clammy hands of death, and many +a one shuddered as the wreaths of sea-mist swept by. At times the mist +cleared, and the sea for some distance could be seen in the glare of the +lightning, which now came thick and fast, followed by such sudden peals +of thunder that the whole sky overhead seemed trembling under the shock +of the footsteps of the storm. + +Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and of +absorbing interest--the sea, running mountains high, threw skywards with +each wave mighty masses of white foam, which the tempest seemed to +snatch at and whirl away into space; here and there a fishing-boat, with +a rag of sail, running madly for shelter before the blast; now and again +the white wings of a storm-tossed sea-bird. On the summit of the East +Cliff the new searchlight was ready for experiment, but had not yet been +tried. The officers in charge of it got it into working order, and in +the pauses of the inrushing mist swept with it the surface of the sea. +Once or twice its service was most effective, as when a fishing-boat, +with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour, able, by the guidance +of the sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing against the +piers. As each boat achieved the safety of the port there was a shout of +joy from the mass of people on shore, a shout which for a moment seemed +to cleave the gale and was then swept away in its rush. + +Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner +with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had been noticed +earlier in the evening. The wind had by this time backed to the east, +and there was a shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff as they +realized the terrible danger in which she now was. Between her and the +port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships have from time +to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its present quarter, +it would be quite impossible that she should fetch the entrance of the +harbour. It was now nearly the hour of high tide, but the waves were so +great that in their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost +visible, and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such +speed that, in the words of one old salt, “she must fetch up somewhere, +if it was only in hell.” Then came another rush of sea-fog, greater than +any hitherto--a mass of dank mist, which seemed to close on all things +like a grey pall, and left available to men only the organ of hearing, +for the roar of the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the +booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion even louder +than before. The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbour +mouth across the East Pier, where the shock was expected, and men waited +breathless. The wind suddenly shifted to the north-east, and the remnant +of the sea-fog melted in the blast; and then, _mirabile dictu_, between +the piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at headlong speed, +swept the strange schooner before the blast, with all sail set, and +gained the safety of the harbour. The searchlight followed her, and a +shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to the helm was a +corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and fro at each +motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on deck at all. A great +awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if by a miracle, had +found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead man! However, +all took place more quickly than it takes to write these words. The +schooner paused not, but rushing across the harbour, pitched herself on +that accumulation of sand and gravel washed by many tides and many +storms into the south-east corner of the pier jutting under the East +Cliff, known locally as Tate Hill Pier. + +There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up on +the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some of the +“top-hammer” came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very instant +the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from below, as +if shot up by the concussion, and running forward, jumped from the bow +on the sand. Making straight for the steep cliff, where the churchyard +hangs over the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that some of the flat +tombstones--“thruff-steans” or “through-stones,” as they call them in +the Whitby vernacular--actually project over where the sustaining cliff +has fallen away, it disappeared in the darkness, which seemed +intensified just beyond the focus of the searchlight. + +It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill Pier, as +all those whose houses are in close proximity were either in bed or were +out on the heights above. Thus the coastguard on duty on the eastern +side of the harbour, who at once ran down to the little pier, was the +first to climb on board. The men working the searchlight, after scouring +the entrance of the harbour without seeing anything, then turned the +light on the derelict and kept it there. The coastguard ran aft, and +when he came beside the wheel, bent over to examine it, and recoiled at +once as though under some sudden emotion. This seemed to pique general +curiosity, and quite a number of people began to run. It is a good way +round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to Tate Hill Pier, but your +correspondent is a fairly good runner, and came well ahead of the crowd. +When I arrived, however, I found already assembled on the pier a crowd, +whom the coastguard and police refused to allow to come on board. By the +courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted +to climb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman +whilst actually lashed to the wheel. + +It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed, for +not often can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply fastened +by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the wheel. Between +the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set of beads on which it +was fastened being around both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast by +the binding cords. The poor fellow may have been seated at one time, but +the flapping and buffeting of the sails had worked through the rudder of +the wheel and dragged him to and fro, so that the cords with which he +was tied had cut the flesh to the bone. Accurate note was made of the +state of things, and a doctor--Surgeon J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot +Place--who came immediately after me, declared, after making +examination, that the man must have been dead for quite two days. In his +pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for a little roll of +paper, which proved to be the addendum to the log. The coastguard said +the man must have tied up his own hands, fastening the knots with his +teeth. The fact that a coastguard was the first on board may save some +complications, later on, in the Admiralty Court; for coastguards cannot +claim the salvage which is the right of the first civilian entering on a +derelict. Already, however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young +law student is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already +completely sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the +statutes of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of +delegated possession, is held in a _dead hand_. It is needless to say +that the dead steersman has been reverently removed from the place where +he held his honourable watch and ward till death--a steadfastness as +noble as that of the young Casabianca--and placed in the mortuary to +await inquest. + +Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is abating; +crowds are scattering homeward, and the sky is beginning to redden over +the Yorkshire wolds. I shall send, in time for your next issue, further +details of the derelict ship which found her way so miraculously into +harbour in the storm. + +_Whitby_ + +_9 August._--The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the +storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself. It +turns out that the schooner is a Russian from Varna, and is called the +_Demeter_. She is almost entirely in ballast of silver sand, with only a +small amount of cargo--a number of great wooden boxes filled with mould. +This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S. F. Billington, of +7, The Crescent, who this morning went aboard and formally took +possession of the goods consigned to him. The Russian consul, too, +acting for the charter-party, took formal possession of the ship, and +paid all harbour dues, etc. Nothing is talked about here to-day except +the strange coincidence; the officials of the Board of Trade have been +most exacting in seeing that every compliance has been made with +existing regulations. As the matter is to be a “nine days’ wonder,” they +are evidently determined that there shall be no cause of after +complaint. A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which +landed when the ship struck, and more than a few of the members of the +S. P. C. A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend the +animal. To the general disappointment, however, it was not to be found; +it seems to have disappeared entirely from the town. It may be that it +was frightened and made its way on to the moors, where it is still +hiding in terror. There are some who look with dread on such a +possibility, lest later on it should in itself become a danger, for it +is evidently a fierce brute. Early this morning a large dog, a half-bred +mastiff belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill Pier, was found +dead in the roadway opposite to its master’s yard. It had been fighting, +and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for its throat was torn away, +and its belly was slit open as if with a savage claw. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been +permitted to look over the log-book of the _Demeter_, which was in order +up to within three days, but contained nothing of special interest +except as to facts of missing men. The greatest interest, however, is +with regard to the paper found in the bottle, which was to-day produced +at the inquest; and a more strange narrative than the two between them +unfold it has not been my lot to come across. As there is no motive for +concealment, I am permitted to use them, and accordingly send you a +rescript, simply omitting technical details of seamanship and +supercargo. It almost seems as though the captain had been seized with +some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, and that +this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of course my +statement must be taken _cum grano_, since I am writing from the +dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for +me, time being short. + + LOG OF THE “DEMETER.” + + +_Varna to Whitby._ + +_Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep +accurate note henceforth till we land._ + + * * * * * + +On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth. +At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands ... two mates, +cook, and myself (captain). + + * * * * * + +On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs +officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p. m. + + * * * * * + +On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of +guarding squadron. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but +quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago. + + * * * * * + +On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something. +Seemed scared, but would not speak out. + + * * * * * + +On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who +sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only +told him there was _something_, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper +with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but +all was quiet. + + * * * * * + +On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky, was +missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last +night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more +downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but +would not say more than there was _something_ aboard. Mate getting very +impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead. + + * * * * * + +On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in +an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man +aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering +behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall, +thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the companion-way, +and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He followed cautiously, +but when he got to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed. +He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may +spread. To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from +stem to stern. + + * * * * * + +Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they +evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from +stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such +foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would engage to keep +them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the +rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns: we left +no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there +were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when +search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but +said nothing. + + * * * * * + +_22 July_.--Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with +sails--no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. +Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad +weather. Passed Gibralter and out through Straits. All well. + + * * * * * + +_24 July_.--There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand short, +and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and yet last +night another man lost--disappeared. Like the first, he came off his +watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of fear; sent a round +robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate +angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do +some violence. + + * * * * * + +_28 July_.--Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of maelstrom, +and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all worn out. Hardly +know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate +volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few hours’ sleep. +Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is +steadier. + + * * * * * + +_29 July_.--Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night, as crew too +tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no one +except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough search, +but no one found. Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate +and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause. + + * * * * * + +_30 July_.--Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine, +all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling +me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and +two hands left to work ship. + + * * * * * + +_1 August_.--Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped when in +the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get in somewhere. +Not having power to work sails, have to run before wind. Dare not lower, +as could not raise them again. We seem to be drifting to some terrible +doom. Mate now more demoralised than either of men. His stronger nature +seems to have worked inwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear, +working stolidly and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are +Russian, he Roumanian. + + * * * * * + +_2 August, midnight_.--Woke up from few minutes’ sleep by hearing a cry, +seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and +ran against mate. Tells me heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on +watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past Straits +of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as +he heard the man cry out. If so we are now off in the North Sea, and +only God can guide us in the fog, which seems to move with us; and God +seems to have deserted us. + + * * * * * + +_3 August_.--At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel, and +when I got to it found no one there. The wind was steady, and as we ran +before it there was no yawing. I dared not leave it, so shouted for the +mate. After a few seconds he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He +looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has given +way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, with his mouth to my +ear, as though fearing the very air might hear: “_It_ is here; I know +it, now. On the watch last night I saw It, like a man, tall and thin, +and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind +It, and gave It my knife; but the knife went through It, empty as the +air.” And as he spoke he took his knife and drove it savagely into +space. Then he went on: “But It is here, and I’ll find It. It is in the +hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I’ll unscrew them one by one and +see. You work the helm.” And, with a warning look and his finger on his +lip, he went below. There was springing up a choppy wind, and I could +not leave the helm. I saw him come out on deck again with a tool-chest +and a lantern, and go down the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, +raving mad, and it’s no use my trying to stop him. He can’t hurt those +big boxes: they are invoiced as “clay,” and to pull them about is as +harmless a thing as he can do. So here I stay, and mind the helm, and +write these notes. I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. +Then, if I can’t steer to any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut +down sails and lie by, and signal for help.... + + * * * * * + +It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope that the mate +would come out calmer--for I heard him knocking away at something in the +hold, and work is good for him--there came up the hatchway a sudden, +startled scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he +came as if shot from a gun--a raging madman, with his eyes rolling and +his face convulsed with fear. “Save me! save me!” he cried, and then +looked round on the blanket of fog. His horror turned to despair, and in +a steady voice he said: “You had better come too, captain, before it is +too late. _He_ is there. I know the secret now. The sea will save me +from Him, and it is all that is left!” Before I could say a word, or +move forward to seize him, he sprang on the bulwark and deliberately +threw himself into the sea. I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was +this madman who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has +followed them himself. God help me! How am I to account for all these +horrors when I get to port? _When_ I get to port! Will that ever be? + + * * * * * + +_4 August._--Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know there is +sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. I dared not go +below, I dared not leave the helm; so here all night I stayed, and in +the dimness of the night I saw It--Him! God forgive me, but the mate was +right to jump overboard. It was better to die like a man; to die like a +sailor in blue water no man can object. But I am captain, and I must not +leave my ship. But I shall baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie +my hands to the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with +them I shall tie that which He--It!--dare not touch; and then, come good +wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain. I am +growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He can look me in the +face again, I may not have time to act.... If we are wrecked, mayhap +this bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand; if not, +... well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God +and the Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying +to do his duty.... + + * * * * * + +Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to adduce; +and whether or not the man himself committed the murders there is now +none to say. The folk here hold almost universally that the captain is +simply a hero, and he is to be given a public funeral. Already it is +arranged that his body is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk +for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey +steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The owners +of more than a hundred boats have already given in their names as +wishing to follow him to the grave. + +No trace has ever been found of the great dog; at which there is much +mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he would, I +believe, be adopted by the town. To-morrow will see the funeral; and so +will end this one more “mystery of the sea.” + + +_Mina Murray’s Journal._ + +_8 August._--Lucy was very restless all night, and I, too, could not +sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the +chimney-pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to be +like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake; but she got up +twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in time and +managed to undress her without waking her, and got her back to bed. It +is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as soon as her will is +thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if there be any, +disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the routine of her +life. + +Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see +if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people about, +and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the big, +grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam that +topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through the narrow mouth +of the harbour--like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow I +felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. But, +oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am getting fearfully +anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could do anything! + + * * * * * + +_10 August._--The funeral of the poor sea-captain to-day was most +touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin +was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the +churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, whilst +the cortège of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came down +again. We had a lovely view, and saw the procession nearly all the way. +The poor fellow was laid to rest quite near our seat so that we stood on +it when the time came and saw everything. Poor Lucy seemed much upset. +She was restless and uneasy all the time, and I cannot but think that +her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quite odd in one thing: +she will not admit to me that there is any cause for restlessness; or if +there be, she does not understand it herself. There is an additional +cause in that poor old Mr. Swales was found dead this morning on our +seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as the doctor said, +fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for there was a look of +fear and horror on his face that the men said made them shudder. Poor +dear old man! Perhaps he had seen Death with his dying eyes! Lucy is so +sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other +people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing which I did +not much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. One of the men +who came up here often to look for the boats was followed by his dog. +The dog is always with him. They are both quiet persons, and I never saw +the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During the service the dog would +not come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a few +yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and then +harshly, and then angrily; but it would neither come nor cease to make a +noise. It was in a sort of fury, with its eyes savage, and all its hairs +bristling out like a cat’s tail when puss is on the war-path. Finally +the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and then +took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw it on +the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched the +stone the poor thing became quiet and fell all into a tremble. It did +not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was +in such a pitiable state of terror that I tried, though without effect, +to comfort it. Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to +touch the dog, but looked at it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly +fear that she is of too super-sensitive a nature to go through the world +without trouble. She will be dreaming of this to-night, I am sure. The +whole agglomeration of things--the ship steered into port by a dead +man; his attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads; the +touching funeral; the dog, now furious and now in terror--will all +afford material for her dreams. + +I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I +shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood’s Bay and +back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking then. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MINA MURRAY’S JOURNAL + + +_Same day, 11 o’clock p. m._--Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I +had made my diary a duty I should not open it to-night. We had a lovely +walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some +dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, +and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything +except, of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the slate clean +and give us a fresh start. We had a capital “severe tea” at Robin Hood’s +Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow-window right over +the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have +shocked the “New Woman” with our appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless +them! Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, +and with our hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls. Lucy was +really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as we could. +The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked him to stay +for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the dusty miller; I +know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I think that +some day the bishops must get together and see about breeding up a new +class of curates, who don’t take supper, no matter how they may be +pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired. Lucy is asleep and +breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks than usual, and +looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her +only in the drawing-room, I wonder what he would say if he saw her now. +Some of the “New Women” writers will some day start an idea that men and +women should be allowed to see each other asleep before proposing or +accepting. But I suppose the New Woman won’t condescend in future to +accept; she will do the proposing herself. And a nice job she will make +of it, too! There’s some consolation in that. I am so happy to-night, +because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe she has turned the +corner, and that we are over her troubles with dreaming. I should be +quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan.... God bless and keep him. + + * * * * * + +_11 August, 3 a. m._--Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. +I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such an +agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary.... +Suddenly I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear +upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room was dark, +so I could not see Lucy’s bed; I stole across and felt for her. The bed +was empty. I lit a match and found that she was not in the room. The +door was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her +mother, who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some +clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room it +struck me that the clothes she wore might give me some clue to her +dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean house; dress, outside. +Dressing-gown and dress were both in their places. “Thank God,” I said +to myself, “she cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress.” I ran +downstairs and looked in the sitting-room. Not there! Then I looked in +all the other open rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear +chilling my heart. Finally I came to the hall door and found it open. It +was not wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The people +of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that +Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to think of what +might happen; a vague, overmastering fear obscured all details. I took a +big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I was in the +Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the North +Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I expected. At +the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across the harbour to +the East Cliff, in the hope or fear--I don’t know which--of seeing Lucy +in our favourite seat. There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, +driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of +light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see +nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all +around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey +coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as +a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually +visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for +there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a +half-reclining figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too +quick for me to see much, for shadow shut down on light almost +immediately; but it seemed to me as though something dark stood behind +the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, +whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another +glance, but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the +fish-market to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East +Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced +that it was so, for I wanted no witness of poor Lucy’s condition. The +time and distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath +came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have +gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with +lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got almost +to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was now +close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of shadow. There +was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the +half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, “Lucy! Lucy!” and +something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face +and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the +entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was between me and +the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in +view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly +that I could see Lucy half reclining with her head lying over the back +of the seat. She was quite alone, and there was not a sign of any living +thing about. + +When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips +were parted, and she was breathing--not softly as usual with her, but in +long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every +breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the +collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so +there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt the cold. I +flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight round her neck, +for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the night air, +unclad as she was. I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to +have my hands free that I might help her, I fastened the shawl at her +throat with a big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety +and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing +became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. When I +had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet and then began +very gently to wake her. At first she did not respond; but gradually she +became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing +occasionally. At last, as time was passing fast, and, for many other +reasons, I wished to get her home at once, I shook her more forcibly, +till finally she opened her eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised +to see me, as, of course, she did not realise all at once where she was. +Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must +have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking +unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She +trembled a little, and clung to me; when I told her to come at once with +me home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we +passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. She +stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes; but I would not. +However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard, where there +was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with +mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home, no +one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet. + +Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we saw +a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front of +us; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as +there are here, steep little closes, or “wynds,” as they call them in +Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I +should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her +health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation +in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had washed our +feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I tucked her into +bed. Before falling asleep she asked--even implored--me not to say a +word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I +hesitated at first to promise; but on thinking of the state of her +mother’s health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her, +and thinking, too, of how such a story might become distorted--nay, +infallibly would--in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do +so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to +my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping +soundly; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea.... + + * * * * * + +_Same day, noon._--All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her and seemed +not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night does not +seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she +looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to +notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might +have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have +pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are +two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress +was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she +laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it +cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny. + + * * * * * + +_Same day, night._--We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the +sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave +Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the +cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for +I could not but feel how _absolutely_ happy it would have been had +Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening +we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr +and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she +has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door +and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any +trouble to-night. + + * * * * * + +_12 August._--My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I +was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, to +be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed +under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds +chirping outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, +was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of +manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me +and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about +Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded +somewhat, for, though sympathy can’t alter facts, it can help to make +them more bearable. + + * * * * * + +_13 August._--Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as +before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, +still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling +aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft +effect of the light over the sea and sky--merged together in one great, +silent mystery--was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight +flitted a great bat, coming and going in great whirling circles. Once or +twice it came quite close, but was, I suppose, frightened at seeing me, +and flitted away across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back +from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. +She did not stir again all night. + + * * * * * + +_14 August._--On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy seems +to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to +get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or +dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were coming home for +dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and +stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, low +down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness; the red light was +thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe +everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and +suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself:-- + +“His red eyes again! They are just the same.” It was such an odd +expression, coming _apropos_ of nothing, that it quite startled me. I +slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare +at her, and saw that she was in a half-dreamy state, with an odd look on +her face that I could not quite make out; so I said nothing, but +followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat, +whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little startled myself, +for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes like +burning flames; but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red +sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary’s Church behind our +seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the +refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I +called Lucy’s attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself +with a start, but she looked sad all the same; it may have been that she +was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to it; so I +said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went +early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself; +I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet +sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home--it was then +bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the +Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen--I threw a glance +up at our window, and saw Lucy’s head leaning out. I thought that +perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief and +waved it. She did not notice or make any movement whatever. Just then, +the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the light fell +on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head lying up against +the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She was fast asleep, and +by her, seated on the window-sill, was something that looked like a +good-sized bird. I was afraid she might get a chill, so I ran upstairs, +but as I came into the room she was moving back to her bed, fast +asleep, and breathing heavily; she was holding her hand to her throat, +as though to protect it from cold. + +I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have taken care that the +door is locked and the window securely fastened. + +She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont, and +there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. I +fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it +is. + + * * * * * + +_15 August._--Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and +slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at breakfast. +Arthur’s father is better, and wants the marriage to come off soon. Lucy +is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once. Later on +in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose Lucy as her +very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have some one to +protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me that she has got +her death-warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; +her doctor told her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for +her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock would be +almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of +the dreadful night of Lucy’s sleep-walking. + + * * * * * + +_17 August._--No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to +write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our happiness. +No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, whilst her +mother’s hours are numbering to a close. I do not understand Lucy’s +fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys +the fresh air; but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and +she gets weaker and more languid day by day; at night I hear her gasping +as if for air. I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at +night, but she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open +window. Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I +tried to wake her I could not; she was in a faint. When I managed to +restore her she was as weak as water, and cried silently between long, +painful struggles for breath. When I asked her how she came to be at the +window she shook her head and turned away. I trust her feeling ill may +not be from that unlucky prick of the safety-pin. I looked at her throat +just now as she lay asleep, and the tiny wounds seem not to have healed. +They are still open, and, if anything, larger than before, and the +edges of them are faintly white. They are like little white dots with +red centres. Unless they heal within a day or two, I shall insist on the +doctor seeing about them. + + +_Letter, Samuel F. Billington & Son, Solicitors, Whitby, to Messrs. +Carter, Paterson & Co., London._ + +“_17 August._ + +“Dear Sirs,-- + +“Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern +Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet, immediately +on receipt at goods station King’s Cross. The house is at present empty, +but enclosed please find keys, all of which are labelled. + +“You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the +consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the house +and marked ‘A’ on rough diagram enclosed. Your agent will easily +recognise the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the mansion. The +goods leave by the train at 9:30 to-night, and will be due at King’s +Cross at 4:30 to-morrow afternoon. As our client wishes the delivery +made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your having teams ready +at King’s Cross at the time named and forthwith conveying the goods to +destination. In order to obviate any delays possible through any routine +requirements as to payment in your departments, we enclose cheque +herewith for ten pounds (£10), receipt of which please acknowledge. +Should the charge be less than this amount, you can return balance; if +greater, we shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing from +you. You are to leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the +house, where the proprietor may get them on his entering the house by +means of his duplicate key. + +“Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy in +pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition. + +_“We are, dear Sirs, + +“Faithfully yours, + +“SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON.”_ + + +_Letter, Messrs. Carter, Paterson & Co., London, to Messrs. Billington & +Son, Whitby._ + +“_21 August._ + +“Dear Sirs,-- + +“We beg to acknowledge £10 received and to return cheque £1 17s. 9d, +amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account herewith. Goods are +delivered in exact accordance with instructions, and keys left in parcel +in main hall, as directed. + +“We are, dear Sirs, + +“Yours respectfully. + +“_Pro_ CARTER, PATERSON & CO.” + + +_Mina Murray’s Journal._ + +_18 August._--I am happy to-day, and write sitting on the seat in the +churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all +night, and did not disturb me once. The roses seem coming back already +to her cheeks, though she is still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she +were in any way anæmic I could understand it, but she is not. She is in +gay spirits and full of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence +seems to have passed from her, and she has just reminded me, as if I +needed any reminding, of _that_ night, and that it was here, on this +very seat, I found her asleep. As she told me she tapped playfully with +the heel of her boot on the stone slab and said:-- + +“My poor little feet didn’t make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr. +Swales would have told me that it was because I didn’t want to wake up +Geordie.” As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she +had dreamed at all that night. Before she answered, that sweet, puckered +look came into her forehead, which Arthur--I call him Arthur from her +habit--says he loves; and, indeed, I don’t wonder that he does. Then she +went on in a half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to +herself:-- + +“I didn’t quite dream; but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be +here in this spot--I don’t know why, for I was afraid of something--I +don’t know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing +through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and +I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling--the +whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once--as +I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and +dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very +sweet and very bitter all around me at once; and then I seemed sinking +into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have +heard there is to drowning men; and then everything seemed passing away +from me; my soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air. +I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me, +and then there was a sort of agonising feeling, as if I were in an +earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do +it before I felt you.” + +Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I +listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it +better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to other +subjects, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the +fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more +rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very +happy evening together. + + * * * * * + +_19 August._--Joy, joy, joy! although not all joy. At last, news of +Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill; that is why he did not write. I +am not afraid to think it or say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent +me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh, so kindly. I am to leave in the +morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary, +and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad thing if +we were to be married out there. I have cried over the good Sister’s +letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of +Jonathan, and must be next my heart, for he is _in_ my heart. My journey +is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change of +dress; Lucy will bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for +it, for it may be that ... I must write no more; I must keep it to say +to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must +comfort me till we meet. + + +_Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, +Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray._ + +“_12 August._ + +“Dear Madam,-- + +“I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong +enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph +and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks, +suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love, +and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, +Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his +delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will require some few +weeks’ rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He +wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him, and that he +would like to pay for his staying here, so that others who need shall +not be wanting for help. + +“Believe me, + +“Yours, with sympathy and all blessings, + +“SISTER AGATHA. + +“P. S.--My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know something +more. He has told me all about you, and that you are shortly to be his +wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some fearful shock--so says +our doctor--and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful; of +wolves and poison and blood; of ghosts and demons; and I fear to say of +what. Be careful with him always that there may be nothing to excite him +of this kind for a long time to come; the traces of such an illness as +his do not lightly die away. We should have written long ago, but we +knew nothing of his friends, and there was on him nothing that any one +could understand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard +was told by the station-master there that he rushed into the station +shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanour that +he was English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the +way thither that the train reached. + +“Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his +sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have no +doubt will in a few weeks be all himself. But be careful of him for +safety’s sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, many, +many, happy years for you both.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_19 August._--Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About +eight o’clock he began to get excited and sniff about as a dog does when +setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my interest +in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the +attendant and at times servile; but to-night, the man tells me, he was +quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all. All he +would say was:-- + + “I don’t want to talk to you: you don’t count now; the Master is at + hand.” + +The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which has +seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man with +homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The +combination is a dreadful one. At nine o’clock I visited him myself. His +attitude to me was the same as that to the attendant; in his sublime +self-feeling the difference between myself and attendant seemed to him +as nothing. It looks like religious mania, and he will soon think that +he himself is God. These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man +are too paltry for an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves +away! The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall; but the God created +from human vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, +if men only knew! + +For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and +greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept strict +observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came into his +eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it +the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to +know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of his +bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-lustre eyes. I thought I +would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and tried to +lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to excite +his attention. At first he made no reply, but at length said testily:-- + +“Bother them all! I don’t care a pin about them.” + +“What?” I said. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t care about +spiders?” (Spiders at present are his hobby and the note-book is filling +up with columns of small figures.) To this he answered enigmatically:-- + +“The bride-maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride; +but when the bride draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes +that are filled.” + +He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his bed +all the time I remained with him. + +I am weary to-night and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and +how different things might have been. If I don’t sleep at once, chloral, +the modern Morpheus--C_{2}HCl_{3}O. H_{2}O! I must be careful not to let +it grow into a habit. No, I shall take none to-night! I have thought of +Lucy, and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, +to-night shall be sleepless.... + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Glad I made the resolution; gladder that I kept to it. I had +lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the +night-watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield +had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once; my patient is +too dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might +work out dangerously with strangers. The attendant was waiting for me. +He said he had seen him not ten minutes before, seemingly asleep in his +bed, when he had looked through the observation-trap in the door. His +attention was called by the sound of the window being wrenched out. He +ran back and saw his feet disappear through the window, and had at once +sent up for me. He was only in his night-gear, and cannot be far off. +The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should +go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out +of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn’t get through +the window. I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, +and, as we were only a few feet above ground, landed unhurt. The +attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a +straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt +of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our +grounds from those of the deserted house. + +I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men +immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our friend +might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the wall, +dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield’s figure just +disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the +far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old +ironbound oak door of the chapel. He was talking, apparently to some +one, but I was afraid to go near enough to hear what he was saying, lest +I might frighten him, and he should run off. Chasing an errant swarm of +bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic, when the fit of escaping +is upon him! After a few minutes, however, I could see that he did not +take note of anything around him, and so ventured to draw nearer to +him--the more so as my men had now crossed the wall and were closing him +in. I heard him say:-- + +“I am here to do Your bidding, Master. I am Your slave, and You will +reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped You long and afar +off. Now that You are near, I await Your commands, and You will not pass +me by, will You, dear Master, in Your distribution of good things?” + +He _is_ a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes +even when he believes he is in a Real Presence. His manias make a +startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a tiger. +He is immensely strong, for he was more like a wild beast than a man. I +never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before; and I hope I +shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and +his danger in good time. With strength and determination like his, he +might have done wild work before he was caged. He is safe now at any +rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn’t get free from the strait-waistcoat +that keeps him restrained, and he’s chained to the wall in the padded +room. His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are +more deadly still, for he means murder in every turn and movement. + +Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time:-- + +“I shall be patient, Master. It is coming--coming--coming!” + +So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this +diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep to-night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +_Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra._ + +“_Buda-Pesth, 24 August._ + +“My dearest Lucy,-- + +“I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we +parted at the railway station at Whitby. Well, my dear, I got to Hull +all right, and caught the boat to Hamburg, and then the train on here. I +feel that I can hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I +knew I was coming to Jonathan, and, that as I should have to do some +nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could.... I found my dear one, +oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out +of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his +face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not +remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At +least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. He has had some +terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try +to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, +tells me that he raved of dreadful things whilst he was off his head. I +wanted her to tell me what they were; but she would only cross herself, +and say she would never tell; that the ravings of the sick were the +secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear +them, she should respect her trust. She is a sweet, good soul, and the +next day, when she saw I was troubled, she opened up the subject again, +and after saying that she could never mention what my poor dear raved +about, added: ‘I can tell you this much, my dear: that it was not about +anything which he has done wrong himself; and you, as his wife to be, +have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes +to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can +treat of.’ I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my +poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of +_my_ being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I +felt a thrill of joy through me when I _knew_ that no other woman was a +cause of trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his +face while he sleeps. He is waking!... + +“When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something +from the pocket; I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things. +I saw that amongst them was his note-book, and was going to ask him to +let me look at it--for I knew then that I might find some clue to his +trouble--but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for he sent +me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite alone for a moment. +Then he called me back, and when I came he had his hand over the +note-book, and he said to me very solemnly:-- + +“‘Wilhelmina’--I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has +never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him--‘you know, +dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife: there should be no +secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to +think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it +was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know I have had brain +fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to +know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.’ For, my +dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities are +complete. ‘Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is +the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me +know; unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to +the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.’ He fell +back exhausted, and I put the book under his pillow, and kissed him. I +have asked Sister Agatha to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this +afternoon, and am waiting her reply.... + + * * * * * + +“She has come and told me that the chaplain of the English mission +church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon +after as Jonathan awakes.... + + * * * * * + +“Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very +happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he +sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his ‘I will’ firmly +and strongly. I could hardly speak; my heart was so full that even those +words seemed to choke me. The dear sisters were so kind. Please God, I +shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities +I have taken upon me. I must tell you of my wedding present. When the +chaplain and the sisters had left me alone with my husband--oh, Lucy, it +is the first time I have written the words ‘my husband’--left me alone +with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it +up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon +which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing-wax, +and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it +to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would +be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each +other; that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake +or for the sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, +Lucy, it was the first time he took _his wife’s_ hand, and said that it +was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go +through all the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to +have said a part of the past, but he cannot think of time yet, and I +shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the +year. + +“Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was the +happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him +except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love +and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, +and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a very solemn +pledge between us.... + +“Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because +it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to +me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from +the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, +and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me; so that +in your own married life you too may be all happy as I am. My dear, +please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises: a long day of +sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must +not wish you no pain, for that can never be; but I do hope you will be +_always_ as happy as I am _now_. Good-bye, my dear. I shall post this at +once, and, perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan +is waking--I must attend to my husband! + +“Your ever-loving + +“MINA HARKER.” + + +_Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker._ + +“_Whitby, 30 August._ + +“My dearest Mina,-- + +“Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own +home with your husband. I wish you could be coming home soon enough to +stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore Jonathan; it has +quite restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of +life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given +up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of my bed for a +week, that is when I once got into it at night. Arthur says I am getting +fat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Arthur is here. We have such +walks and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing +together; and I love him more than ever. He _tells_ me that he loves me +more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn’t love me +more than he did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. +So no more just at present from your loving + +“LUCY. + +“P. S.--Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear. +“P. P. S.--We are to be married on 28 September.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_20 August._--The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has +now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his passion. +For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one +night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to +himself: “Now I can wait; now I can wait.” The attendant came to tell +me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the +strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone +from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading--I might +almost say, “cringing”--softness. I was satisfied with his present +condition, and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, +but finally carried out my wishes without protest. It was a strange +thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust, for, +coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking +furtively at them:-- + +“They think I could hurt you! Fancy _me_ hurting _you_! The fools!” + +It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated +even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I +do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in +common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has +he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful +to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak. Even the +offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him. He will +only say: “I don’t take any stock in cats. I have more to think of now, +and I can wait; I can wait.” + +After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet +until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at +length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted +him so that he swooned into a sort of coma. + + * * * * * + +... Three nights has the same thing happened--violent all day then quiet +from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It +would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went. +Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He +escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We +shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they +are required.... + + * * * * * + +_23 August._--“The unexpected always happens.” How well Disraeli knew +life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our +subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one +thing; that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in +future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have given +orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded room, +when once he is quiet, until an hour before sunrise. The poor soul’s +body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! +The unexpected again! I am called; the patient has once more escaped. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the +attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past him +and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to follow. +Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we found him +in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. When he saw me +he became furious, and had not the attendants seized him in time, he +would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a strange thing +happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as suddenly grew +calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I caught +the patient’s eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it looked +into the moonlit sky except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and +ghostly way to the west. Bats usually wheel and flit about, but this one +seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or had +some intention of its own. The patient grew calmer every instant, and +presently said:-- + +“You needn’t tie me; I shall go quietly!” Without trouble we came back +to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and shall +not forget this night.... + + +_Lucy Westenra’s Diary_ + +_Hillingham, 24 August._--I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things +down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it will +be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I +seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the +change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and horrid to me, +for I can remember nothing; but I am full of vague fear, and I feel so +weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he looked quite grieved +when he saw me, and I hadn’t the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder +if I could sleep in mother’s room to-night. I shall make an excuse and +try. + + * * * * * + +_25 August._--Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my +proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to +worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while; but when the +clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling +asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but I +did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I must then have +fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them. This +morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains +me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don’t seem ever to +get air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I +know he will be miserable to see me so. + + +_Letter, Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward._ + +“_Albemarle Hotel, 31 August._ + +“My dear Jack,-- + +“I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill; that is, she has no special +disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every day. I have +asked her if there is any cause; I do not dare to ask her mother, for to +disturb the poor lady’s mind about her daughter in her present state of +health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided to me that her doom is +spoken--disease of the heart--though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I +am sure that there is something preying on my dear girl’s mind. I am +almost distracted when I think of her; to look at her gives me a pang. I +told her I should ask you to see her, and though she demurred at +first--I know why, old fellow--she finally consented. It will be a +painful task for you, I know, old friend, but it is for _her_ sake, and +I must not hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at +Hillingham to-morrow, two o’clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in +Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being +alone with you. I shall come in for tea, and we can go away together; I +am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with you alone as soon as I +can after you have seen her. Do not fail! + +“ARTHUR.” + + +_Telegram, Arthur Holmwood to Seward._ + +“_1 September._ + +“Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write me fully +by to-night’s post to Ring. Wire me if necessary.” + + +_Letter from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood._ + +“_2 September._ + +“My dear old fellow,-- + +“With regard to Miss Westenra’s health I hasten to let you know at once +that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or any malady +that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means satisfied with +her appearance; she is woefully different from what she was when I saw +her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did not have full +opportunity of examination such as I should wish; our very friendship +makes a little difficulty which not even medical science or custom can +bridge over. I had better tell you exactly what happened, leaving you to +draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say what I have +done and propose doing. + +“I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was present, +and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying all she knew +to mislead her mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no +doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of caution there is. +We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, we +got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real cheerfulness +amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy was left with +me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety remained, +for the servants were coming and going. As soon as the door was closed, +however, the mask fell from her face, and she sank down into a chair +with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with her hand. When I saw that her +high spirits had failed, I at once took advantage of her reaction to +make a diagnosis. She said to me very sweetly:-- + +“‘I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself.’ I reminded her +that a doctor’s confidence was sacred, but that you were grievously +anxious about her. She caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that +matter in a word. ‘Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for +myself, but all for him!’ So I am quite free. + +“I could easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I could not see +the usual anæmic signs, and by a chance I was actually able to test the +quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was stiff a cord +gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken glass. It was a +slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured +a few drops of the blood and have analysed them. The qualitative +analysis gives a quite normal condition, and shows, I should infer, in +itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical matters I was quite +satisfied that there is no need for anxiety; but as there must be a +cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be something +mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at +times, and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but +regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child she +used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, +and that once she walked out in the night and went to East Cliff, where +Miss Murray found her; but she assures me that of late the habit has not +returned. I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of; I +have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of +Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the +world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that all things +were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who you are and your +relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is in obedience to +your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do anything I can for +her. Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal +reason, so, no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his +wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, but this is because he knows +what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher +and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day; +and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron +nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, an indomitable resolution, +self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the +kindliest and truest heart that beats--these form his equipment for the +noble work that he is doing for mankind--work both in theory and +practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I +tell you these facts that you may know why I have such confidence in +him. I have asked him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra +to-morrow again. She is to meet me at the Stores, so that I may not +alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my call. + +“Yours always, + +“JOHN SEWARD.” + + +_Letter, Abraham Van Helsing, M. D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc., etc., to Dr. +Seward._ + +“_2 September._ + +“My good Friend,-- + +“When I have received your letter I am already coming to you. By good +fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have +trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have +trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds +dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so +swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other +friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my +aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it +is pleasure added to do for him, your friend; it is to you that I come. +Have then rooms for me at the Great Eastern Hotel, so that I may be near +to hand, and please it so arrange that we may see the young lady not too +late on to-morrow, for it is likely that I may have to return here that +night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and stay longer +if it must. Till then good-bye, my friend John. + + “VAN HELSING.” + + +_Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood._ + +“_3 September._ + +“My dear Art,-- + +“Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, and +found that, by Lucy’s discretion, her mother was lunching out, so that +we were alone with her. Van Helsing made a very careful examination of +the patient. He is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of +course I was not present all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, +but says he must think. When I told him of our friendship and how you +trust to me in the matter, he said: ‘You must tell him all you think. +Tell him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not +jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.’ I asked +what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when we had +come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before starting on his +return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any further clue. You must not +be angry with me, Art, because his very reticence means that all his +brains are working for her good. He will speak plainly enough when the +time comes, be sure. So I told him I would simply write an account of +our visit, just as if I were doing a descriptive special article for +_The Daily Telegraph_. He seemed not to notice, but remarked that the +smuts in London were not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a +student here. I am to get his report to-morrow if he can possibly make +it. In any case I am to have a letter. + +“Well, as to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first +saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something of the +ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal. She was +very sweet to the professor (as she always is), and tried to make him +feel at ease; though I could see that the poor girl was making a hard +struggle for it. I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick +look under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to chat of +all things except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite +geniality that I could see poor Lucy’s pretense of animation merge into +reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the conversation +gently round to his visit, and suavely said:-- + +“‘My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are so +much beloved. That is much, my dear, ever were there that which I do not +see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that you were of a +ghastly pale. To them I say: “Pouf!”’ And he snapped his fingers at me +and went on: ‘But you and I shall show them how wrong they are. How can +he’--and he pointed at me with the same look and gesture as that with +which once he pointed me out to his class, on, or rather after, a +particular occasion which he never fails to remind me of--‘know anything +of a young ladies? He has his madmans to play with, and to bring them +back to happiness, and to those that love them. It is much to do, and, +oh, but there are rewards, in that we can bestow such happiness. But the +young ladies! He has no wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell +themselves to the young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many +sorrows and the causes of them. So, my dear, we will send him away to +smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all +to ourselves.’ I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the +professor came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but +said: ‘I have made careful examination, but there is no functional +cause. With you I agree that there has been much blood lost; it has +been, but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anæmic. I have +asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two question, +that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what she will say. +And yet there is cause; there is always cause for everything. I must go +back home and think. You must send to me the telegram every day; and if +there be cause I shall come again. The disease--for not to be all well +is a disease--interest me, and the sweet young dear, she interest me +too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.’ + +“As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were alone. +And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch. I trust +your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible thing to you, my +dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position between two people who +are both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and +you are right to stick to it; but, if need be, I shall send you word to +come at once to Lucy; so do not be over-anxious unless you hear from +me.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_4 September._--Zoöphagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. +He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just +before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The attendant knew +the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a +run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he became so +violent that it took all their strength to hold him. In about five +minutes, however, he began to get more and more quiet, and finally sank +into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to now. The +attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really +appalling; I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the +other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite +understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was +some distance away. It is now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and +as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, +woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show +something directly. I cannot quite understand it. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Another change in my patient. At five o’clock I looked in on +him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He +was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture +by making nail-marks on the edge of the door between the ridges of +padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad +conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to +his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to +humour him: so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the +sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a +harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a +box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find +a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any +clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me; but he would not +rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of +far-away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me:-- + +“All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do +it for myself!” Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: +“Doctor, won’t you be very good to me and let me have a little more +sugar? I think it would be good for me.” + +“And the flies?” I said. + +“Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like +it.” And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do +not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man +as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind. + + * * * * * + +_Midnight._--Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, +whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our +own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As +his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in +the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky +beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows +and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul +water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone +building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart +to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from +his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less +frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an +inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual +recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up +quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to +hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight +over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his +fly-box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the box; then he shut +the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised +me, so I asked him: “Are you not going to keep flies any more?” + +“No,” said he; “I am sick of all that rubbish!” He certainly is a +wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his +mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a clue +after all, if we can find why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon +and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at +periods which affects certain natures--as at times the moon does others? +We shall see. + + +_Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam._ + +“_4 September._--Patient still better to-day.” + + +_Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam._ + +“_5 September._--Patient greatly improved. Good appetite; sleeps +naturally; good spirits; colour coming back.” + + +_Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam._ + +“_6 September._--Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not +lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +_Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood._ + +“_6 September._ + +“My dear Art,-- + +“My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit. +There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it; Mrs. +Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me +professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told +her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to +stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with +myself; so now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a +shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy’s weak +condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with +difficulties, all of us, my poor old fellow; but, please God, we shall +come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you +do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for +news. In haste + +“Yours ever, + +“JOHN SEWARD.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_7 September._--The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at +Liverpool Street was:-- + +“Have you said anything to our young friend the lover of her?” + +“No,” I said. “I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I +wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were coming, as Miss +Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him know if need be.” + +“Right, my friend,” he said, “quite right! Better he not know as yet; +perhaps he shall never know. I pray so; but if it be needed, then he +shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. You deal +with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other; and inasmuch +as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God’s madmen, +too--the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen what you do nor why +you do it; you tell them not what you think. So you shall keep knowledge +in its place, where it may rest--where it may gather its kind around it +and breed. You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here.” He +touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself +the same way. “I have for myself thoughts at the present. Later I shall +unfold to you.” + +“Why not now?” I asked. “It may do some good; we may arrive at some +decision.” He stopped and looked at me, and said:-- + +“My friend John, when the corn is grown, even before it has +ripened--while the milk of its mother-earth is in him, and the sunshine +has not yet begun to paint him with his gold, the husbandman he pull the +ear and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff, +and say to you: ‘Look! he’s good corn; he will make good crop when the +time comes.’” I did not see the application, and told him so. For reply +he reached over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as +he used long ago to do at lectures, and said: “The good husbandman tell +you so then because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the +good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow; that is for +the children who play at husbandry, and not for those who take it as of +the work of their life. See you now, friend John? I have sown my corn, +and Nature has her work to do in making it sprout; if he sprout at all, +there’s some promise; and I wait till the ear begins to swell.” He broke +off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on, and very +gravely:-- + +“You were always a careful student, and your case-book was ever more +full than the rest. You were only student then; now you are master, and +I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember, my friend, that +knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker. +Even if you have not kept the good practise, let me tell you that this +case of our dear miss is one that may be--mind, I say _may be_--of such +interest to us and others that all the rest may not make him kick the +beam, as your peoples say. Take then good note of it. Nothing is too +small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises. +Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess. We +learn from failure, not from success!” + +When I described Lucy’s symptoms--the same as before, but infinitely +more marked--he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with him a +bag in which were many instruments and drugs, “the ghastly paraphernalia +of our beneficial trade,” as he once called, in one of his lectures, the +equipment of a professor of the healing craft. When we were shown in, +Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but not nearly so much as I +expected to find her. Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained +that even death has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case +where any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from some +cause or other, the things not personal--even the terrible change in her +daughter to whom she is so attached--do not seem to reach her. It is +something like the way Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an +envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that +which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered +selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice +of egoism, for there may be deeper root for its causes than we have +knowledge of. + +I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and laid down +a rule that she should not be present with Lucy or think of her illness +more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so readily that +I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van Helsing and I were +shown up to Lucy’s room. If I was shocked when I saw her yesterday, I +was horrified when I saw her to-day. She was ghastly, chalkily pale; the +red seemed to have gone even from her lips and gums, and the bones of +her face stood out prominently; her breathing was painful to see or +hear. Van Helsing’s face grew set as marble, and his eyebrows converged +till they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay motionless, and did not +seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then +Van Helsing beckoned to me, and we went gently out of the room. The +instant we had closed the door he stepped quickly along the passage to +the next door, which was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and +closed the door. “My God!” he said; “this is dreadful. There is no time +to be lost. She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart’s +action as it should be. There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is +it you or me?” + +“I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me.” + +“Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared.” + +I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock at +the hall-door. When we reached the hall the maid had just opened the +door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying in +an eager whisper:-- + +“Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter, and +have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see for +myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you, +sir, for coming.” When first the Professor’s eye had lit upon him he had +been angry at his interruption at such a time; but now, as he took in +his stalwart proportions and recognised the strong young manhood which +seemed to emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to +him gravely as he held out his hand:-- + +“Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear miss. She is +bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that.” For he +suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. “You are to +help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is your +best help.” + +“What can I do?” asked Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me, and I shall do it. My +life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for +her.” The Professor has a strongly humorous side, and I could from old +knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer:-- + +“My young sir, I do not ask so much as that--not the last!” + +“What shall I do?” There was fire in his eyes, and his open nostril +quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder. “Come!” +he said. “You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are better than +me, better than my friend John.” Arthur looked bewildered, and the +Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way:-- + +“Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have +or die. My friend John and I have consulted; and we are about to perform +what we call transfusion of blood--to transfer from full veins of one to +the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he is +the more young and strong than me”--here Arthur took my hand and wrung +it hard in silence--“but, now you are here, you are more good than us, +old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not +so calm and our blood not so bright than yours!” Arthur turned to him +and said:-- + +“If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would +understand----” + +He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice. + +“Good boy!” said Van Helsing. “In the not-so-far-off you will be happy +that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent. You +shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go; and you +must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame; you know how it is with +her! There must be no shock; any knowledge of this would be one. Come!” + +We all went up to Lucy’s room. Arthur by direction remained outside. +Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not +asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke +to us; that was all. Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid +them on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and +coming over to the bed, said cheerily:-- + +“Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off, like a good +child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy. Yes.” She had made +the effort with success. + +It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked +the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began to +flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to manifest +its potency; and she fell into a deep sleep. When the Professor was +satisfied he called Arthur into the room, and bade him strip off his +coat. Then he added: “You may take that one little kiss whiles I bring +over the table. Friend John, help to me!” So neither of us looked whilst +he bent over her. + +Van Helsing turning to me, said: + +“He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not +defibrinate it.” + +Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed the +operation. As the transfusion went on something like life seemed to come +back to poor Lucy’s cheeks, and through Arthur’s growing pallor the joy +of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I began to grow +anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he +was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy’s system must +have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her. +But the Professor’s face was set, and he stood watch in hand and with +his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my own +heart beat. Presently he said in a soft voice: “Do not stir an instant. +It is enough. You attend him; I will look to her.” When all was over I +could see how much Arthur was weakened. I dressed the wound and took his +arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning round--the +man seems to have eyes in the back of his head:-- + +“The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he shall have +presently.” And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted the +pillow to the patient’s head. As he did so the narrow black velvet band +which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an old +diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little up, +and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not notice it, but I +could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing’s +ways of betraying emotion. He said nothing at the moment, but turned to +me, saying: “Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port +wine, and let him lie down a while. He must then go home and rest, sleep +much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given to +his love. He must not stay here. Hold! a moment. I may take it, sir, +that you are anxious of result. Then bring it with you that in all ways +the operation is successful. You have saved her life this time, and you +can go home and rest easy in mind that all that can be is. I shall tell +her all when she is well; she shall love you none the less for what you +have done. Good-bye.” + +When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping gently, +but her breathing was stronger; I could see the counterpane move as her +breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently. +The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked the Professor in a +whisper:-- + +“What do you make of that mark on her throat?” + +“What do you make of it?” + +“I have not examined it yet,” I answered, and then and there proceeded +to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two +punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no sign of +disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some +trituration. It at once occurred to me that this wound, or whatever it +was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood; but I abandoned +the idea as soon as formed, for such a thing could not be. The whole bed +would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must +have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion. + +“Well?” said Van Helsing. + +“Well,” said I, “I can make nothing of it.” The Professor stood up. “I +must go back to Amsterdam to-night,” he said. “There are books and +things there which I want. You must remain here all the night, and you +must not let your sight pass from her.” + +“Shall I have a nurse?” I asked. + +“We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night; see that +she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not sleep all +the night. Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be back as soon as +possible. And then we may begin.” + +“May begin?” I said. “What on earth do you mean?” + +“We shall see!” he answered, as he hurried out. He came back a moment +later and put his head inside the door and said with warning finger held +up:-- + +“Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm befall, you +shall not sleep easy hereafter!” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary--continued._ + +_8 September._--I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself +off towards dusk, and she waked naturally; she looked a different being +from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good, +and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the +absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs. Westenra +that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit up with her she +almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her daughter’s renewed +strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, however, and made +preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the +night I came in, having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by +the bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me +gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed +sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together +and shook it off. This was repeated several times, with greater effort +and with shorter pauses as the time moved on. It was apparent that she +did not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once:-- + +“You do not want to go to sleep?” + +“No; I am afraid.” + +“Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for.” + +“Ah, not if you were like me--if sleep was to you a presage of horror!” + +“A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?” + +“I don’t know; oh, I don’t know. And that is what is so terrible. All +this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I dread the very thought.” + +“But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here watching you, and +I can promise that nothing will happen.” + +“Ah, I can trust you!” I seized the opportunity, and said: “I promise +you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once.” + +“You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will +sleep!” And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and sank +back, asleep. + +All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on and on +in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips were +slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a +pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad +dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind. + +In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took +myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a short +wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent result +of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears, took me all +day to clear off; it was dark when I was able to inquire about my +zoöphagous patient. The report was good; he had been quite quiet for the +past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst +I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham to-night, as +it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the +night mail and would join me early in the morning. + + * * * * * + +_9 September_.--I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to +Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my +brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral +exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook hands +with me she looked sharply in my face and said:-- + +“No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am quite well +again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who +will sit up with you.” I would not argue the point, but went and had my +supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I +made an excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than +excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next +her own, where a cozy fire was burning. “Now,” she said, “you must stay +here. I shall leave this door open and my door too. You can lie on the +sofa for I know that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to +bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything I +shall call out, and you can come to me at once.” I could not but +acquiesce, for I was “dog-tired,” and could not have sat up had I tried. +So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she should want anything, +I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about everything. + + +_Lucy Westenra’s Diary._ + +_9 September._--I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably weak, +that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after +a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very, +very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose +it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner +eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength give Love +rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know +where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew! My dear, my dear, your ears +must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of +last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward watching me. +And to-night I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and +within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me! Thank God! +Good-night, Arthur. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_10 September._--I was conscious of the Professor’s hand on my head, and +started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we learn +in an asylum, at any rate. + +“And how is our patient?” + +“Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me,” I answered. + +“Come, let us see,” he said. And together we went into the room. + +The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van +Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed. + +As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the room, I +heard the Professor’s low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its rarity, a +deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, and +his exclamation of horror, “Gott in Himmel!” needed no enforcement from +his agonised face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his +iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my knees begin to tremble. + +There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly +white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums +seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a +corpse after a prolonged illness. Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp +in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit +stood to him, and he put it down again softly. “Quick!” he said. “Bring +the brandy.” I flew to the dining-room, and returned with the decanter. +He wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and +wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonising +suspense said:-- + +“It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is +undone; we must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now; I have +to call on you yourself this time, friend John.” As he spoke, he was +dipping into his bag and producing the instruments for transfusion; I +had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no +possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one; and so, +without a moment’s delay, we began the operation. After a time--it did +not seem a short time either, for the draining away of one’s blood, no +matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible feeling--Van Helsing +held up a warning finger. “Do not stir,” he said, “but I fear that with +growing strength she may wake; and that would make danger, oh, so much +danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection +of morphia.” He proceeded then, swiftly and deftly, to carry out his +intent. The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge +subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride +that I could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid +cheeks and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to +feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves. + +The Professor watched me critically. “That will do,” he said. “Already?” +I remonstrated. “You took a great deal more from Art.” To which he +smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied:-- + +“He is her lover, her _fiancé_. You have work, much work, to do for her +and for others; and the present will suffice.” + +When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied +digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, whilst I waited his +leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little sick. By-and-by +he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for +myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me, and half +whispered:-- + +“Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should turn up +unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once frighten him and +enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!” + +When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said:-- + +“You are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and +rest awhile; then have much breakfast, and come here to me.” + +I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I +had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I +felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at +what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over +and over again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how +she could have been drained of so much blood with no sign anywhere to +show for it. I think I must have continued my wonder in my dreams, for, +sleeping and waking, my thoughts always came back to the little +punctures in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their +edges--tiny though they were. + +Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly well and +strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van Helsing +had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge, with strict +injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his +voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office. + +Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that anything +had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When her mother +came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever, but +said to me gratefully:-- + +“We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you really +must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale +yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit; that you +do!” As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only momentarily, +for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long such an unwonted +drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as she turned +imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my finger on my +lips; with a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows. + +Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to me: +“Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong. I +stay here to-night, and I shall sit up with little miss myself. You and +I must watch the case, and we must have none other to know. I have grave +reasons. No, do not ask them; think what you will. Do not fear to think +even the most not-probable. Good-night.” + +In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either of +them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let them; and +when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing’s wish that either he or I should sit +up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede with the “foreign +gentleman.” I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is because +I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on Lucy’s account, that +their devotion was manifested; for over and over again have I seen +similar instances of woman’s kindness. I got back here in time for a +late dinner; went my rounds--all well; and set this down whilst waiting +for sleep. It is coming. + + * * * * * + +_11 September._--This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found Van +Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I had +arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He opened it +with much impressment--assumed, of course--and showed a great bundle of +white flowers. + +“These are for you, Miss Lucy,” he said. + +“For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!” + +“Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines.” Here +Lucy made a wry face. “Nay, but they are not to take in a decoction or +in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming nose, or I shall +point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have to endure in seeing +so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. Aha, my pretty miss, +that bring the so nice nose all straight again. This is medicinal, but +you do not know how. I put him in your window, I make pretty wreath, and +hang him round your neck, so that you sleep well. Oh yes! they, like the +lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like the waters +of Lethe, and of that fountain of youth that the Conquistadores sought +for in the Floridas, and find him all too late.” + +Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling +them. Now she threw them down, saying, with half-laughter, and +half-disgust:-- + +“Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, +these flowers are only common garlic.” + +To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, his +iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:-- + +“No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do; +and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of +others if not for your own.” Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might +well be, he went on more gently: “Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear +me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so +common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the +wreath that you are to wear. But hush! no telling to others that make so +inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience; +and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait +for you. Now sit still awhile. Come with me, friend John, and you shall +help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the way from Haarlem, +where my friend Vanderpool raise herb in his glass-houses all the year. +I had to telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been here.” + +We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor’s +actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopoeia +that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched them +securely; next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over +the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get +in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp he rubbed +all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round +the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and +presently I said:-- + +“Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but +this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no sceptic here, or he +would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil spirit.” + +“Perhaps I am!” he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath which +Lucy was to wear round her neck. + +We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she +was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her +neck. The last words he said to her were:-- + +“Take care you do not disturb it; and even if the room feel close, do +not to-night open the window or the door.” + +“I promise,” said Lucy, “and thank you both a thousand times for all +your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such +friends?” + +As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing said:-- + +“To-night I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want--two nights of travel, +much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to follow, +and a night to sit up, without to wink. To-morrow in the morning early +you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss, so much +more strong for my ‘spell’ which I have work. Ho! ho!” + +He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights +before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must +have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but +I felt it all the more, like unshed tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +_Lucy Westenra’s Diary._ + + +_12 September._--How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear Dr. +Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers. He +positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have been +right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread +being alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not +mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible struggle that I +have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, +or the pain of the fear of sleep, with such unknown horrors as it has +for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no +dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings +nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep, +and lying like Ophelia in the play, with “virgin crants and maiden +strewments.” I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful! +There is peace in its smell; I feel sleep coming already. Good-night, +everybody. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_13 September._--Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual, +up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The +Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now. + +Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham at +eight o’clock. It was a lovely morning; the bright sunshine and all the +fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the completion of nature’s +annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours, +but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we met +Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She is always an early +riser. She greeted us warmly and said:-- + +“You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is still +asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in, lest I +should disturb her.” The Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He +rubbed his hands together, and said:-- + +“Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working,” to +which she answered:-- + +“You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor. Lucy’s state this +morning is due in part to me.” + +“How you do mean, ma’am?” asked the Professor. + +“Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into +her room. She was sleeping soundly--so soundly that even my coming did +not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those +horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually +a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odour would be +too much for the dear child in her weak state, so I took them all away +and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air. You will be +pleased with her, I am sure.” + +She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. As +she had spoken, I watched the Professor’s face, and saw it turn ashen +grey. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the poor lady +was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be; +he actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to pass into +her room. But the instant she had disappeared he pulled me, suddenly and +forcibly, into the dining-room and closed the door. + +Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. He +raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and then beat +his palms together in a helpless way; finally he sat down on a chair, +and putting his hands before his face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs +that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart. Then he raised +his arms again, as though appealing to the whole universe. “God! God! +God!” he said. “What have we done, what has this poor thing done, that +we are so sore beset? Is there fate amongst us still, sent down from the +pagan world of old, that such things must be, and in such way? This poor +mother, all unknowing, and all for the best as she think, does such +thing as lose her daughter body and soul; and we must not tell her, we +must not even warn her, or she die, and then both die. Oh, how we are +beset! How are all the powers of the devils against us!” Suddenly he +jumped to his feet. “Come,” he said, “come, we must see and act. Devils +or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not; we fight him +all the same.” He went to the hall-door for his bag; and together we +went up to Lucy’s room. + +Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the bed. +This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with the same +awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of stern sadness and +infinite pity. + +“As I expected,” he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his which +meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and then +began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet another +operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognised the +necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a +warning hand. “No!” he said. “To-day you must operate. I shall provide. +You are weakened already.” As he spoke he took off his coat and rolled +up his shirt-sleeve. + +Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour to +the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This time I +watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested. + +Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she must +not remove anything from Lucy’s room without consulting him; that the +flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their odour +was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care of the case +himself, saying that he would watch this night and the next and would +send me word when to come. + +After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and +seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal. + +What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of life +amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain. + + +_Lucy Westenra’s Diary._ + +_17 September._--Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong +again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some +long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and +feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim +half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness +in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress +more poignant: and then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to +life as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since, +however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems +to have passed away; the noises that used to frighten me out of my +wits--the flapping against the windows, the distant voices which seemed +so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and +commanded me to do I know not what--have all ceased. I go to bed now +without any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown +quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from +Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a +day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched; I am well enough to be left +alone. Thank God for mother’s sake, and dear Arthur’s, and for all our +friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for +last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found +him asleep twice when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again, +although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against +the window-panes. + + +_“The Pall Mall Gazette,” 18 September._ + + THE ESCAPED WOLF. + + PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER. + + _Interview with the Keeper in the Zoölogical Gardens._ + +After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using +the words “Pall Mall Gazette” as a sort of talisman, I managed to find +the keeper of the section of the Zoölogical Gardens in which the wolf +department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in +the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to +his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, +elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their +hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty +comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called “business” +until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the +table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:-- + +“Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You’ll excoose me +refoosin’ to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the +wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore +I begins to arsk them questions.” + +“How do you mean, ask them questions?” I queried, wishful to get him +into a talkative humour. + +“’Ittin’ of them over the ’ead with a pole is one way; scratchin’ of +their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf +to their gals. I don’t so much mind the fust--the ’ittin’ with a pole +afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they’ve ’ad their +sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the +ear-scratchin’. Mind you,” he added philosophically, “there’s a deal of +the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here’s you a-comin’ and +arskin’ of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that +only for your bloomin’ ’arf-quid I’d ’a’ seen you blowed fust ’fore I’d +answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I’d like you to +arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence +did I tell yer to go to ’ell?” + +“You did.” + +“An’ when you said you’d report me for usin’ of obscene language that +was ’ittin’ me over the ’ead; but the ’arf-quid made that all right. I +weren’t a-goin’ to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my ’owl +as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor’ love yer ’art, now +that the old ’ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an’ rinsed +me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit hup, you may scratch +my ears for all you’re worth, and won’t git even a growl out of me. +Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin’ at, that ’ere +escaped wolf.” + +“Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it +happened; and when I know the facts I’ll get you to say what you +consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will +end.” + +“All right, guv’nor. This ’ere is about the ’ole story. That ’ere wolf +what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from +Norway to Jamrach’s, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a +nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I’m more +surprised at ’im for wantin’ to get out nor any other animile in the +place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves no more nor women.” + +“Don’t you mind him, sir!” broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. “’E’s +got mindin’ the animiles so long that blest if he ain’t like a old wolf +’isself! But there ain’t no ’arm in ’im.” + +“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin’ yesterday when I first +hear my disturbance. I was makin’ up a litter in the monkey-house for a +young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin’ and ’owlin’ I kem +away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin’ like a mad thing at the +bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn’t much people about that +day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a ’ook +nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin’ through it. He +had a ’ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, +for it seemed as if it was ’im as they was hirritated at. He ’ad white +kid gloves on ’is ’ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: +‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’ + +“‘Maybe it’s you,’ says I, for I did not like the airs as he give +’isself. He didn’t git angry, as I ’oped he would, but he smiled a kind +of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they +wouldn’t like me,’ ’e says. + +“‘Ow yes, they would,’ says I, a-imitatin’ of him. ‘They always likes a +bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you ’as a +bagful.’ + +“Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin’ they +lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears +same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn’t put +in his hand and stroke the old wolf’s ears too! + +“‘Tyke care,’ says I. ‘Bersicker is quick.’ + +“‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘I’m used to ’em!’ + +“‘Are you in the business yourself?’ I says, tyking off my ’at, for a +man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers. + +“‘No,’ says he, ‘not exactly in the business, but I ’ave made pets of +several.’ And with that he lifts his ’at as perlite as a lord, and walks +away. Old Bersicker kep’ a-lookin’ arter ’im till ’e was out of sight, +and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn’t come hout the ’ole +hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves +here all began a-’owling. There warn’t nothing for them to ’owl at. +There warn’t no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin’ a +dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice +I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the ’owling +stopped. Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look round afore +turnin’ in, an’, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker’s +cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And +that’s all I know for certing.” + +“Did any one else see anything?” + +“One of our gard’ners was a-comin’ ’ome about that time from a ’armony, +when he sees a big grey dog comin’ out through the garding ’edges. At +least, so he says, but I don’t give much for it myself, for if he did ’e +never said a word about it to his missis when ’e got ’ome, and it was +only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all +night-a-huntin’ of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein’ +anything. My own belief was that the ’armony ’ad got into his ’ead.” + +“Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the +wolf?” + +“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, “I think I can; +but I don’t know as ’ow you’d be satisfied with the theory.” + +“Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from +experience, can’t hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?” + +“Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that ’ere +wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out.” + +From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I +could see that it had done service before, and that the whole +explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn’t cope in badinage +with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, +so I said:-- + +“Now, Mr. Bilder, we’ll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, +and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you’ve told me +what you think will happen.” + +“Right y’are, sir,” he said briskly. “Ye’ll excoose me, I know, for +a-chaffin’ of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much +as telling me to go on.” + +“Well, I never!” said the old lady. + +“My opinion is this: that ’ere wolf is a-’idin’ of, somewheres. The +gard’ner wot didn’t remember said he was a-gallopin’ northward faster +than a horse could go; but I don’t believe him, for, yer see, sir, +wolves don’t gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein’ built that +way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets +in packs and does be chivyin’ somethin’ that’s more afeared than they is +they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, +Lor’ bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so +clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in +’im. This one ain’t been used to fightin’ or even to providin’ for +hisself, and more like he’s somewhere round the Park a-’idin’ an’ +a-shiverin’ of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin’ where he is to get +his breakfast from; or maybe he’s got down some area and is in a +coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a rum start when she sees his +green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can’t get food he’s +bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher’s +shop in time. If he doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin’ orf with +a soldier, leavin’ of the hinfant in the perambulator--well, then I +shouldn’t be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That’s +all.” + +I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up +against the window, and Mr. Bilder’s face doubled its natural length +with surprise. + +“God bless me!” he said. “If there ain’t old Bersicker come back by +’isself!” + +He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it +seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so +well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a +personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea. + +After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor +his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal +itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all +picture-wolves--Red Riding Hood’s quondam friend, whilst moving her +confidence in masquerade. + +The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The +wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the +children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of +penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine +prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender +solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:-- + +“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; +didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all cut and full of broken +glass. ’E’s been a-gettin’ over some bloomin’ wall or other. It’s a +shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. +This ’ere’s what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker.” + +He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that +satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the +fatted calf, and went off to report. + +I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given +to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_17 September._--I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my +books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy, +had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in +rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was +thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord +into the Superintendent’s study is almost unknown. Without an instant’s +pause he made straight at me. He had a dinner-knife in his hand, and, +as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. He was +too quick and too strong for me, however; for before I could get my +balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely. +Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right and he was +sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a +little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not +intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist, +keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the +attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment +positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor licking +up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was +easily secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite +placidly, simply repeating over and over again: “The blood is the life! +The blood is the life!” + +I cannot afford to lose blood just at present; I have lost too much of +late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy’s +illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over-excited and +weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned +me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I could not well do without +it. + + +_Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax._ + +(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given; delivered late by +twenty-two hours.) + +“_17 September._--Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night. If not +watching all the time frequently, visit and see that flowers are as +placed; very important; do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as +possible after arrival.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_18 September._--Just off for train to London. The arrival of Van +Helsing’s telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I know +by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it is +possible that all may be well, but what _may_ have happened? Surely +there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every possible accident +should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with +me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy’s phonograph. + + +_Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra._ + +_17 September. Night._--I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no +one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact +record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and +have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the +doing. + +I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr. +Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep. + +I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that +sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I +know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in +the next room--as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be--so that I might have +called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not. Then there came to me +the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep +would try to come then when I did not want it; so, as I feared to be +alone, I opened my door and called out: “Is there anybody there?” There +was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again. +Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog’s, but +more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could +see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its +wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined +not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in; +seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She +said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont:-- + +“I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all +right.” + +I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in +and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me; she did +not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while +and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in +hers, the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was +startled and a little frightened, and cried out: “What is that?” I tried +to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet; but I could +hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was +the low howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a +crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. +The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the +aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey +wolf. Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting +posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst +other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing +insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me. For a +second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange +and horrible gurgling in her throat; then she fell over--as if struck +with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a +moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my +eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole +myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken +window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that +travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to +stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother’s poor body, +which seemed to grow cold already--for her dear heart had ceased to +beat--weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while. + +The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered +consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the +dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, +seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and +stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the +nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort +me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear +their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to them, and they +came in, and when they saw what had happened, and what it was that lay +over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the +broken window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my +dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I +had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them +to go to the dining-room and have each a glass of wine. The door flew +open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went +in a body to the dining-room; and I laid what flowers I had on my dear +mother’s breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing +had told me, but I didn’t like to remove them, and, besides, I would +have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that +the maids did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went +to the dining-room to look for them. + +My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless +on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table +half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, +and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the +sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother’s doctor uses for +her--oh! did use--was empty. What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back +in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for +the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I +dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the +broken window. + +The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from +the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God +shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, +where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother +gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not +survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_18 September._--I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived early. +Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked gently +and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb Lucy or her +mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. After a while, +finding no response, I knocked and rang again; still no answer. I cursed +the laziness of the servants that they should lie abed at such an +hour--for it was now ten o’clock--and so rang and knocked again, but +more impatiently, but still without response. Hitherto I had blamed only +the servants, but now a terrible fear began to assail me. Was this +desolation but another link in the chain of doom which seemed drawing +tight around us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I had come, too +late? I knew that minutes, even seconds of delay, might mean hours of +danger to Lucy, if she had had again one of those frightful relapses; +and I went round the house to try if I could find by chance an entry +anywhere. + +I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door was fastened and +locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I did so, I heard the +rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse’s feet. They stopped at the +gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing running up the avenue. +When he saw me, he gasped out:-- + +“Then it was you, and just arrived. How is she? Are we too late? Did you +not get my telegram?” + +I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only got his +telegram early in the morning, and had not lost a minute in coming here, +and that I could not make any one in the house hear me. He paused and +raised his hat as he said solemnly:-- + +“Then I fear we are too late. God’s will be done!” With his usual +recuperative energy, he went on: “Come. If there be no way open to get +in, we must make one. Time is all in all to us now.” + +We went round to the back of the house, where there was a kitchen +window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his case, and +handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded the window. I +attacked them at once and had very soon cut through three of them. Then +with a long, thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the sashes and +opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and followed him. There +was no one in the kitchen or in the servants’ rooms, which were close at +hand. We tried all the rooms as we went along, and in the dining-room, +dimly lit by rays of light through the shutters, found four +servant-women lying on the floor. There was no need to think them dead, +for their stertorous breathing and the acrid smell of laudanum in the +room left no doubt as to their condition. Van Helsing and I looked at +each other, and as we moved away he said: “We can attend to them later.” +Then we ascended to Lucy’s room. For an instant or two we paused at the +door to listen, but there was no sound that we could hear. With white +faces and trembling hands, we opened the door gently, and entered the +room. + +How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy and her +mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered with a white +sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the draught through the +broken window, showing the drawn, white face, with a look of terror +fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white and still more +drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we found upon her +mother’s bosom, and her throat was bare, showing the two little wounds +which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled. +Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, his head almost touching +poor Lucy’s breast; then he gave a quick turn of his head, as of one who +listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to me:-- + +“It is not yet too late! Quick! quick! Bring the brandy!” + +I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste +it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which I found +on the table. The maids were still breathing, but more restlessly, and I +fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I did not stay to make sure, +but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed the brandy, as on another +occasion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists and the palms of her +hands. He said to me:-- + +“I can do this, all that can be at the present. You go wake those maids. +Flick them in the face with a wet towel, and flick them hard. Make them +get heat and fire and a warm bath. This poor soul is nearly as cold as +that beside her. She will need be heated before we can do anything +more.” + +I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of the +women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had evidently +affected her more strongly, so I lifted her on the sofa and let her +sleep. The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to +them they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with +them, however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one life +was bad enough to lose, and that if they delayed they would sacrifice +Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and crying, they went about their way, half clad +as they were, and prepared fire and water. Fortunately, the kitchen and +boiler fires were still alive, and there was no lack of hot water. We +got a bath and carried Lucy out as she was and placed her in it. Whilst +we were busy chafing her limbs there was a knock at the hall door. One +of the maids ran off, hurried on some more clothes, and opened it. Then +she returned and whispered to us that there was a gentleman who had come +with a message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he +must wait, for we could see no one now. She went away with the message, +and, engrossed with our work, I clean forgot all about him. + +I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly +earnest. I knew--as he knew--that it was a stand-up fight with death, +and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I did not +understand, but with the sternest look that his face could wear:-- + +“If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade +away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon.” He went +on with his work with, if possible, renewed and more frenzied vigour. + +Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to +be of some effect. Lucy’s heart beat a trifle more audibly to the +stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing’s +face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her in +a hot sheet to dry her he said to me:-- + +“The first gain is ours! Check to the King!” + +We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared, and laid +her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her throat. I noticed +that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat. She was +still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had +ever seen her. + +Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with her +and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and then beckoned me +out of the room. + +“We must consult as to what is to be done,” he said as we descended the +stairs. In the hall he opened the dining-room door, and we passed in, he +closing the door carefully behind him. The shutters had been opened, but +the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of +death which the British woman of the lower classes always rigidly +observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It was, however, light +enough for our purposes. Van Helsing’s sternness was somewhat relieved +by a look of perplexity. He was evidently torturing his mind about +something, so I waited for an instant, and he spoke:-- + +“What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have +another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl’s life +won’t be worth an hour’s purchase. You are exhausted already; I am +exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have +courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his +veins for her?” + +“What’s the matter with me, anyhow?” + +The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought +relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey Morris. Van +Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face softened and a +glad look came into his eyes as I cried out: “Quincey Morris!” and +rushed towards him with outstretched hands. + +“What brought you here?” I cried as our hands met. + +“I guess Art is the cause.” + +He handed me a telegram:-- + +“Have not heard from Seward for three days, and am terribly anxious. +Cannot leave. Father still in same condition. Send me word how Lucy is. +Do not delay.--HOLMWOOD.” + +“I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only to tell +me what to do.” + +Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him straight in +the eyes as he said:-- + +“A brave man’s blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in +trouble. You’re a man and no mistake. Well, the devil may work against +us for all he’s worth, but God sends us men when we want them.” + +Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the heart +to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock and it +told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went into her +veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other +occasions. Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see +and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van +Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with +good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor watched +whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the maids +to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting. I left Quincey lying down +after having a glass of wine, and told the cook to get ready a good +breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I went back to the room where +Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or +two of note-paper in his hand. He had evidently read it, and was +thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow. There was a look +of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one who has had a doubt solved. +He handed me the paper saying only: “It dropped from Lucy’s breast when +we carried her to the bath.” + +When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a pause +asked him: “In God’s name, what does it all mean? Was she, or is she, +mad; or what sort of horrible danger is it?” I was so bewildered that I +did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took the +paper, saying:-- + +“Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know +and understand it all in good time; but it will be later. And now what +is it that you came to me to say?” This brought me back to fact, and I +was all myself again. + +“I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not act +properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would have +to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for if we +had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I know, and you +know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra +had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of it. Let us +fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself to the +registrar and go on to the undertaker.” + +“Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she be +sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends that +love her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides one old +man. Ah yes, I know, friend John; I am not blind! I love you all the +more for it! Now go.” + +In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling him +that Mrs. Westenra was dead; that Lucy also had been ill, but was now +going on better; and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I told him +where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said:-- + +“When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to +ourselves?” I nodded in reply and went out. I found no difficulty about +the registration, and arranged with the local undertaker to come up in +the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements. + +When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see him +as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was still +sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his seat at her +side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I gathered that he +expected her to wake before long and was afraid of forestalling nature. +So I went down to Quincey and took him into the breakfast-room, where +the blinds were not drawn down, and which was a little more cheerful, or +rather less cheerless, than the other rooms. When we were alone, he said +to me:-- + +“Jack Seward, I don’t want to shove myself in anywhere where I’ve no +right to be; but this is no ordinary case. You know I loved that girl +and wanted to marry her; but, although that’s all past and gone, I can’t +help feeling anxious about her all the same. What is it that’s wrong +with her? The Dutchman--and a fine old fellow he is; I can see +that--said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have +_another_ transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted. +Now I know well that you medical men speak _in camera_, and that a man +must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is +no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not that +so?” + +“That’s so,” I said, and he went on:-- + +“I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did +to-day. Is not that so?” + +“That’s so.” + +“And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at his +own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down so quick +since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass +all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at +her in the night, and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there +wasn’t enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a +bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may tell me without +betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?” As he spoke +the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a torture of suspense +regarding the woman he loved, and his utter ignorance of the terrible +mystery which seemed to surround her intensified his pain. His very +heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him--and there was a +royal lot of it, too--to keep him from breaking down. I paused before +answering, for I felt that I must not betray anything which the +Professor wished kept secret; but already he knew so much, and guessed +so much, that there could be no reason for not answering, so I answered +in the same phrase: “That’s so.” + +“And how long has this been going on?” + +“About ten days.” + +“Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature +that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood +of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn’t hold it.” Then, +coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper: “What took it +out?” + +I shook my head. “That,” I said, “is the crux. Van Helsing is simply +frantic about it, and I am at my wits’ end. I can’t even hazard a guess. +There has been a series of little circumstances which have thrown out +all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. But these shall +not occur again. Here we stay until all be well--or ill.” Quincey held +out his hand. “Count me in,” he said. “You and the Dutchman will tell me +what to do, and I’ll do it.” + +When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy’s first movement was to feel +in her breast, and, to my surprise, produced the paper which Van Helsing +had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced it where it had +come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her eye then lit on Van +Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she looked around the room, +and seeing where she was, shuddered; she gave a loud cry, and put her +poor thin hands before her pale face. We both understood what that +meant--that she had realised to the full her mother’s death; so we tried +what we could to comfort her. Doubtless sympathy eased her somewhat, but +she was very low in thought and spirit, and wept silently and weakly for +a long time. We told her that either or both of us would now remain with +her all the time, and that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell +into a doze. Here a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she +took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped +over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on +with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her +hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering +the fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as +if in thought, but he said nothing. + + * * * * * + +_19 September._--All last night she slept fitfully, being always afraid +to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The Professor and +I took it in turns to watch, and we never left her for a moment +unattended. Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I knew +that all night long he patrolled round and round the house. + +When the day came, its searching light showed the ravages in poor Lucy’s +strength. She was hardly able to turn her head, and the little +nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At times she +slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between +sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although more +haggard, and her breathing was softer; her open mouth showed the pale +gums drawn back from the teeth, which thus looked positively longer and +sharper than usual; when she woke the softness of her eyes evidently +changed the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying +one. In the afternoon she asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed for him. +Quincey went off to meet him at the station. + +When he arrived it was nearly six o’clock, and the sun was setting full +and warm, and the red light streamed in through the window and gave more +colour to the pale cheeks. When he saw her, Arthur was simply choking +with emotion, and none of us could speak. In the hours that had passed, +the fits of sleep, or the comatose condition that passed for it, had +grown more frequent, so that the pauses when conversation was possible +were shortened. Arthur’s presence, however, seemed to act as a +stimulant; she rallied a little, and spoke to him more brightly than she +had done since we arrived. He too pulled himself together, and spoke as +cheerily as he could, so that the best was made of everything. + +It was now nearly one o’clock, and he and Van Helsing are sitting with +her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an hour, and I am entering +this on Lucy’s phonograph. Until six o’clock they are to try to rest. I +fear that to-morrow will end our watching, for the shock has been too +great; the poor child cannot rally. God help us all. + + +_Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra._ + +(Unopened by her.) + +“_17 September._ + +“My dearest Lucy,-- + +“It seems _an age_ since I heard from you, or indeed since I wrote. You +will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all my +budget of news. Well, I got my husband back all right; when we arrived +at Exeter there was a carriage waiting for us, and in it, though he had +an attack of gout, Mr. Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there +were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined together. After +dinner Mr. Hawkins said:-- + +“‘My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every +blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and have, with +love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make your home here +with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in +my will I have left you everything.’ I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan and +the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one. + +“So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from both my +bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the great elms of the cathedral +close, with their great black stems standing out against the old yellow +stone of the cathedral and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and +cawing and chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner of +rooks--and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging things and +housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all day; for, now that +Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to tell him all about the +clients. + +“How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could run up to town for a +day or two to see you, dear, but I dare not go yet, with so much on my +shoulders; and Jonathan wants looking after still. He is beginning to +put some flesh on his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the +long illness; even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a sudden +way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him back to his usual +placidity. However, thank God, these occasions grow less frequent as the +days go on, and they will in time pass away altogether, I trust. And now +I have told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married, +and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and what are you to wear, +and is it to be a public or a private wedding? Tell me all about it, +dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests +you which will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his +‘respectful duty,’ but I do not think that is good enough from the +junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you +love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses +of the verb, I send you simply his ‘love’ instead. Good-bye, my dearest +Lucy, and all blessings on you. + +“Yours, + +“MINA HARKER.” + + +_Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., +etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D._ + +“_20 September._ + +“My dear Sir,-- + +“In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the conditions of +everything left in my charge.... With regard to patient, Renfield, there +is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a +dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended +with any unhappy results. This afternoon a carrier’s cart with two men +made a call at the empty house whose grounds abut on ours--the house to +which, you will remember, the patient twice ran away. The men stopped at +our gate to ask the porter their way, as they were strangers. I was +myself looking out of the study window, having a smoke after dinner, and +saw one of them come up to the house. As he passed the window of +Renfield’s room, the patient began to rate him from within, and called +him all the foul names he could lay his tongue to. The man, who seemed a +decent fellow enough, contented himself by telling him to “shut up for a +foul-mouthed beggar,” whereon our man accused him of robbing him and +wanting to murder him and said that he would hinder him if he were to +swing for it. I opened the window and signed to the man not to notice, +so he contented himself after looking the place over and making up his +mind as to what kind of a place he had got to by saying: ‘Lor’ bless +yer, sir, I wouldn’t mind what was said to me in a bloomin’ madhouse. I +pity ye and the guv’nor for havin’ to live in the house with a wild +beast like that.’ Then he asked his way civilly enough, and I told him +where the gate of the empty house was; he went away, followed by threats +and curses and revilings from our man. I went down to see if I could +make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a +well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had +ever occurred. I found him, to my astonishment, quite composed and most +genial in his manner. I tried to get him to talk of the incident, but he +blandly asked me questions as to what I meant, and led me to believe +that he was completely oblivious of the affair. It was, I am sorry to +say, however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an +hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through the +window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I called to the +attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent +on some mischief. My fear was justified when I saw the same cart which +had passed before coming down the road, having on it some great wooden +boxes. The men were wiping their foreheads, and were flushed in the +face, as if with violent exercise. Before I could get up to him the +patient rushed at them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to +knock his head against the ground. If I had not seized him just at the +moment I believe he would have killed the man there and then. The other +fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his +heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but +seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and +fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others +were both burly men. At first he was silent in his fighting; but as we +began to master him, and the attendants were putting a strait-waistcoat +on him, he began to shout: ‘I’ll frustrate them! They shan’t rob me! +they shan’t murder me by inches! I’ll fight for my Lord and Master!’ and +all sorts of similar incoherent ravings. It was with very considerable +difficulty that they got him back to the house and put him in the padded +room. One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set +it all right; and he is going on well. + +“The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for +damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us. Their +threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology for +the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it +had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and +raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work of +him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary +state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of +their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their +labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their +drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and +with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore +that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of +meeting so ‘bloomin’ good a bloke’ as your correspondent. I took their +names and addresses, in case they might be needed. They are as +follows:--Jack Smollet, of Dudding’s Rents, King George’s Road, Great +Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley’s Row, Guide Court, Bethnal +Green. They are both in the employment of Harris & Sons, Moving and +Shipment Company, Orange Master’s Yard, Soho. + +“I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring here, and shall +wire you at once if there is anything of importance. + +“Believe me, dear Sir, + +“Yours faithfully, + +“PATRICK HENNESSEY.” + + +_Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra_. + +(Unopened by her.) + +“_18 September._ + +“My dearest Lucy,-- + +“Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly. +Some may not think it so sad for us, but we had both come to so love him +that it really seems as though we had lost a father. I never knew either +father or mother, so that the dear old man’s death is a real blow to me. +Jonathan is greatly distressed. It is not only that he feels sorrow, +deep sorrow, for the dear, good man who has befriended him all his life, +and now at the end has treated him like his own son and left him a +fortune which to people of our modest bringing up is wealth beyond the +dream of avarice, but Jonathan feels it on another account. He says the +amount of responsibility which it puts upon him makes him nervous. He +begins to doubt himself. I try to cheer him up, and _my_ belief in _him_ +helps him to have a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave +shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard +that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his--a nature which +enabled him by our dear, good friend’s aid to rise from clerk to master +in a few years--should be so injured that the very essence of its +strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in +the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one, +for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan +tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in. I dread coming +up to London, as we must do the day after to-morrow; for poor Mr. +Hawkins left in his will that he was to be buried in the grave with his +father. As there are no relations at all, Jonathan will have to be chief +mourner. I shall try to run over to see you, dearest, if only for a few +minutes. Forgive me for troubling you. With all blessings, + +“Your loving + +“MINA HARKER.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_20 September._--Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry +to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world +and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard +this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death. And he has +been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late--Lucy’s mother +and Arthur’s father, and now.... Let me get on with my work. + +I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur to +go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told him +that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we must not +all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, that he agreed +to go. Van Helsing was very kind to him. “Come, my child,” he said; +“come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much +mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You +must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. +Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two +sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will +be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we +sleep.” Arthur went off with him, casting back a longing look on Lucy’s +face, which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay +quite still, and I looked round the room to see that all was as it +should be. I could see that the Professor had carried out in this room, +as in the other, his purpose of using the garlic; the whole of the +window-sashes reeked with it, and round Lucy’s neck, over the silk +handkerchief which Van Helsing made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of +the same odorous flowers. Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and +her face was at its worst, for the open mouth showed the pale gums. Her +teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they +had been in the morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the +canine teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her, +and presently she moved uneasily. At the same moment there came a sort +of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I went over to it softly, +and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There was a full moonlight, +and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled +round--doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim--and every now +and again struck the window with its wings. When I came back to my seat, +I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and had torn away the garlic +flowers from her throat. I replaced them as well as I could, and sat +watching her. + +Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had prescribed. +She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not seem to be with +her now the unconscious struggle for life and strength that had hitherto +so marked her illness. It struck me as curious that the moment she +became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was +certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the +stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she +waked she clutched them close. There was no possibility of making any +mistake about this, for in the long hours that followed, she had many +spells of sleeping and waking and repeated both actions many times. + +At six o’clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then fallen +into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw Lucy’s face +I could hear the sissing indraw of his breath, and he said to me in a +sharp whisper: “Draw up the blind; I want light!” Then he bent down, +and, with his face almost touching Lucy’s, examined her carefully. He +removed the flowers and lifted the silk handkerchief from her throat. As +he did so he started back, and I could hear his ejaculation, “Mein +Gott!” as it was smothered in his throat. I bent over and looked, too, +and as I noticed some queer chill came over me. + +The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared. + +For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his face +at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly:-- + +“She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark +me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and +let him come and see the last; he trusts us, and we have promised him.” + +I went to the dining-room and waked him. He was dazed for a moment, but +when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the edges of the shutters +he thought he was late, and expressed his fear. I assured him that Lucy +was still asleep, but told him as gently as I could that both Van +Helsing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his face with his +hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa, where he remained, +perhaps a minute, with his head buried, praying, whilst his shoulders +shook with grief. I took him by the hand and raised him up. “Come,” I +said, “my dear old fellow, summon all your fortitude: it will be best +and easiest for her.” + +When we came into Lucy’s room I could see that Van Helsing had, with +his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making +everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy’s +hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we +came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered +softly:-- + +“Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!” He was stooping to +kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. “No,” he whispered, “not +yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more.” + +So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she looked her best, +with all the soft lines matching the angelic beauty of her eyes. Then +gradually her eyes closed, and she sank to sleep. For a little bit her +breast heaved softly, and her breath came and went like a tired child’s. + +And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed in +the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale +gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a +sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which +were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, +such as I had never heard from her lips:-- + +“Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!” Arthur bent +eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who, like me, +had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by +the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which +I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled him almost +across the room. + +“Not for your life!” he said; “not for your living soul and hers!” And +he stood between them like a lion at bay. + +Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment know what to do +or say; and before any impulse of violence could seize him he realised +the place and the occasion, and stood silent, waiting. + +I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm as +of rage flit like a shadow over her face; the sharp teeth champed +together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily. + +Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and +putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing’s great brown +one; drawing it to her, she kissed it. “My true friend,” she said, in a +faint voice, but with untellable pathos, “My true friend, and his! Oh, +guard him, and give me peace!” + +“I swear it!” he said solemnly, kneeling beside her and holding up his +hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he turned to Arthur, and said +to him: “Come, my child, take her hand in yours, and kiss her on the +forehead, and only once.” + +Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted. + +Lucy’s eyes closed; and Van Helsing, who had been watching closely, took +Arthur’s arm, and drew him away. + +And then Lucy’s breathing became stertorous again, and all at once it +ceased. + +“It is all over,” said Van Helsing. “She is dead!” + +I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the drawing-room, where he +sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a way that +nearly broke me down to see. + +I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking at poor Lucy, and +his face was sterner than ever. Some change had come over her body. +Death had given back part of her beauty, for her brow and cheeks had +recovered some of their flowing lines; even the lips had lost their +deadly pallor. It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working +of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as +might be. + + “We thought her dying whilst she slept, + And sleeping when she died.” + +I stood beside Van Helsing, and said:-- + +“Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!” + +He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:-- + +“Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!” + +When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:-- + +“We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY--_continued_. + + +The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and +her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly +formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff were +afflicted--or blessed--with something of his own obsequious suavity. +Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to +me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out +from the death-chamber:-- + +“She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It’s quite a privilege to +attend on her. It’s not too much to say that she will do credit to our +establishment!” + +I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible from +the disordered state of things in the household. There were no relatives +at hand; and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend at his +father’s funeral, we were unable to notify any one who should have been +bidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it upon +ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over Lucy’s +papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being a +foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements, and +so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. He answered me:-- + +“I know; I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as well as a doctor. But +this is not altogether for the law. You knew that, when you avoided the +coroner. I have more than him to avoid. There may be papers more--such +as this.” + +As he spoke he took from his pocket-book the memorandum which had been +in Lucy’s breast, and which she had torn in her sleep. + +“When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late Mrs. +Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him to-night. For me, I watch +here in the room and in Miss Lucy’s old room all night, and I myself +search for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts go into +the hands of strangers.” + +I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had found +the name and address of Mrs. Westenra’s solicitor and had written to +him. All the poor lady’s papers were in order; explicit directions +regarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly sealed the +letter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room, +saying:-- + +“Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is to +you.” + +“Have you got what you looked for?” I asked, to which he replied:-- + +“I did not look for any specific thing. I only hoped to find, and find I +have, all that there was--only some letters and a few memoranda, and a +diary new begun. But I have them here, and we shall for the present say +nothing of them. I shall see that poor lad to-morrow evening, and, with +his sanction, I shall use some.” + +When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me:-- + +“And now, friend John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both you +and I, and rest to recuperate. To-morrow we shall have much to do, but +for the to-night there is no need of us. Alas!” + +Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker had +certainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small +_chapelle ardente_. There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers, +and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of the +winding-sheet was laid over the face; when the Professor bent over and +turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us, the tall +wax candles showing a sufficient light to note it well. All Lucy’s +loveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that had passed, +instead of leaving traces of “decay’s effacing fingers,” had but +restored the beauty of life, till positively I could not believe my eyes +that I was looking at a corpse. + +The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had, and +there was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me: “Remain till I +return,” and left the room. He came back with a handful of wild garlic +from the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been opened, and +placed the flowers amongst the others on and around the bed. Then he +took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold crucifix, and +placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its place, and we +came away. + +I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at the +door, he entered, and at once began to speak:-- + +“To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortem +knives.” + +“Must we make an autopsy?” I asked. + +“Yes and no. I want to operate, but not as you think. Let me tell you +now, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and take out +her heart. Ah! you a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I have seen with +no tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and death that make +the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear friend John, that +you loved her; and I have not forgotten it, for it is I that shall +operate, and you must only help. I would like to do it to-night, but for +Arthur I must not; he will be free after his father’s funeral to-morrow, +and he will want to see her--to see _it_. Then, when she is coffined +ready for the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We shall +unscrew the coffin-lid, and shall do our operation: and then replace +all, so that none know, save we alone.” + +“But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor body +without need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem and nothing +to gain by it--no good to her, to us, to science, to human +knowledge--why do it? Without such it is monstrous.” + +For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinite +tenderness:-- + +“Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and I love you the more +because it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on myself the burden +that you do bear. But there are things that you know not, but that you +shall know, and bless me for knowing, though they are not pleasant +things. John, my child, you have been my friend now many years, and yet +did you ever know me to do any without good cause? I may err--I am but +man; but I believe in all I do. Was it not for these causes that you +send for me when the great trouble came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nay +horrified, when I would not let Arthur kiss his love--though she was +dying--and snatched him away by all my strength? Yes! And yet you saw +how she thanked me, with her so beautiful dying eyes, her voice, too, so +weak, and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me? Yes! And did you not +hear me swear promise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes! + +“Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for many +years trust me; you have believe me weeks past, when there be things so +strange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a little, friend +John. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think; and that is +not perhaps well. And if I work--as work I shall, no matter trust or no +trust--without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy heart and feel, +oh! so lonely when I want all help and courage that may be!” He paused a +moment and went on solemnly: “Friend John, there are strange and +terrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to +a good end. Will you not have faith in me?” + +I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went away, +and watched him go into his room and close the door. As I stood without +moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage--she had +her back towards me, so did not see me--and go into the room where Lucy +lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful +to those who show it unasked to those we love. Here was a poor girl +putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch +alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor clay +might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest.... + + * * * * * + +I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when Van +Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my bedside and +said:-- + +“You need not trouble about the knives; we shall not do it.” + +“Why not?” I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had greatly +impressed me. + +“Because,” he said sternly, “it is too late--or too early. See!” Here he +held up the little golden crucifix. “This was stolen in the night.” + +“How, stolen,” I asked in wonder, “since you have it now?” + +“Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from the +woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will surely +come, but not through me; she knew not altogether what she did and thus +unknowing, she only stole. Now we must wait.” + +He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a +new puzzle to grapple with. + +The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came: Mr. +Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. He was very genial +and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our hands all +cares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had for +some time expected sudden death from her heart, and had put her affairs +in absolute order; he informed us that, with the exception of a certain +entailed property of Lucy’s father’s which now, in default of direct +issue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole estate, +real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. When he had +told us so much he went on:-- + +“Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition, and +pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter either +penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a matrimonial +alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we almost came into +collision, for she asked us if we were or were not prepared to carry out +her wishes. Of course, we had then no alternative but to accept. We were +right in principle, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred we should +have proved, by the logic of events, the accuracy of our judgment. +Frankly, however, I must admit that in this case any other form of +disposition would have rendered impossible the carrying out of her +wishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have come +into possession of the property, and, even had she only survived her +mother by five minutes, her property would, in case there were no +will--and a will was a practical impossibility in such a case--have been +treated at her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord Godalming, +though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in the world; and the +inheritors, being remote, would not be likely to abandon their just +rights, for sentimental reasons regarding an entire stranger. I assure +you, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced.” + +He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part--in which +he was officially interested--of so great a tragedy, was an +object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding. + +He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day and +see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain comfort to +us, since it assured us that we should not have to dread hostile +criticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at five o’clock, so +a little before that time we visited the death-chamber. It was so in +very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it. The undertaker, +true to his craft, had made the best display he could of his goods, and +there was a mortuary air about the place that lowered our spirits at +once. Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adhered to, +explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon, it would be +less harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his _fiancée_ +quite alone. The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity and +exerted himself to restore things to the condition in which we left them +the night before, so that when Arthur came such shocks to his feelings +as we could avoid were saved. + +Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken; even his stalwart +manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his +much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly +attached to his father; and to lose him, and at such a time, was a +bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he +was sweetly courteous; but I could not help seeing that there was some +constraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too, and motioned me to +bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as I +felt he would like to be quite alone with her, but he took my arm and +led me in, saying huskily:-- + +“You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it, and there was +no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I don’t know how to +thank you for all you have done for her. I can’t think yet....” + +Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders and +laid his head on my breast, crying:-- + +“Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do! The whole of life seems gone from me +all at once, and there is nothing in the wide world for me to live for.” + +I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need much +expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the +shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man’s +heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and then I said +softly to him:-- + +“Come and look at her.” + +Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her face. +God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing her +loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat; and as for Arthur, he +fell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague. At +last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper:-- + +“Jack, is she really dead?” + +I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest--for I felt +that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer than +I could help--that it often happened that after death faces became +softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty; that this was +especially so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged +suffering. It seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and, after +kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her lovingly and +long, he turned aside. I told him that that must be good-bye, as the +coffin had to be prepared; so he went back and took her dead hand in his +and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away, +fondly looking back over his shoulder at her as he came. + +I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that he had said +good-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker’s men +to proceed with the preparations and to screw up the coffin. When he +came out of the room again I told him of Arthur’s question, and he +replied:-- + +“I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment myself!” + +We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to make +the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner-time; but +when we had lit our cigars he said-- + +“Lord----”; but Arthur interrupted him:-- + +“No, no, not that, for God’s sake! not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir: +I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my loss is so +recent.” + +The Professor answered very sweetly:-- + +“I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you +‘Mr.,’ and I have grown to love you--yes, my dear boy, to love you--as +Arthur.” + +Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man’s warmly. + +“Call me what you will,” he said. “I hope I may always have the title of +a friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you for +your goodness to my poor dear.” He paused a moment, and went on: “I know +that she understood your goodness even better than I do; and if I was +rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so--you remember”--the +Professor nodded--“you must forgive me.” + +He answered with a grave kindness:-- + +“I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to trust such +violence needs to understand; and I take it that you do not--that you +cannot--trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may be +more times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot--and may +not--and must not yet understand. But the time will come when your trust +shall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall understand as +though the sunlight himself shone through. Then you shall bless me from +first to last for your own sake, and for the sake of others and for her +dear sake to whom I swore to protect.” + +“And, indeed, indeed, sir,” said Arthur warmly, “I shall in all ways +trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you are +Jack’s friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like.” + +The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to +speak, and finally said:-- + +“May I ask you something now?” + +“Certainly.” + +“You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?” + +“No, poor dear; I never thought of it.” + +“And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. I +want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy’s papers and +letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of which, +be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I took them +before we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touch +them--no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep +them, if I may; even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep them +safe. No word shall be lost; and in the good time I shall give them back +to you. It’s a hard thing I ask, but you will do it, will you not, for +Lucy’s sake?” + +Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that in saying this I +am doing what my dear one would have approved. I shall not trouble you +with questions till the time comes.” + +The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly:-- + +“And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it will not be +all pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and you too--you most of +all, my dear boy--will have to pass through the bitter water before we +reach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our +duty, and all will be well!” + +I slept on a sofa in Arthur’s room that night. Van Helsing did not go to +bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house, and was +never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with +the wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose, +a heavy, overpowering smell into the night. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_22 September._--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping. + +It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how much +between then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away and +no news of him; and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a +partner, rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and +Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask me +about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand--see what +unexpected prosperity does for us--so it may be as well to freshen it up +again with an exercise anyhow.... + +The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only ourselves +and the servants there, one or two old friends of his from Exeter, his +London agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John Paxton, the +President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand in +hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us.... + +We came back to town quietly, taking a ’bus to Hyde Park Corner. +Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, so +we sat down; but there were very few people there, and it was +sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us think +of the empty chair at home; so we got up and walked down Piccadilly. +Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in old days +before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for you can’t go on +for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the +pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it was Jonathan, and he +was my husband, and we didn’t know anybody who saw us--and we didn’t +care if they did--so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautiful +girl, in a big cart-wheel hat, sitting in a victoria outside Guiliano’s, +when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he said +under his breath: “My God!” I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I +fear that some nervous fit may upset him again; so I turned to him +quickly, and asked him what it was that disturbed him. + +He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror and +half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose and +black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the pretty +girl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either of us, +and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good face; it was +hard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth, that looked all +the whiter because his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal’s. +Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would notice. I +feared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. I asked +Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently thinking that +I knew as much about it as he did: “Do you see who it is?” + +“No, dear,” I said; “I don’t know him; who is it?” His answer seemed to +shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it was +to me, Mina, to whom he was speaking:-- + +“It is the man himself!” + +The poor dear was evidently terrified at something--very greatly +terrified; I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to +support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring; a man came out of +the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove +off. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriage +moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and hailed a +hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to himself:-- + +“I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this be +so! Oh, my God! my God! If I only knew! if I only knew!” He was +distressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on the +subject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I drew him +away quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a little +further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It was +a hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable seat in a shady place. +After a few minutes’ staring at nothing, Jonathan’s eyes closed, and he +went quietly into a sleep, with his head on my shoulder. I thought it +was the best thing for him, so did not disturb him. In about twenty +minutes he woke up, and said to me quite cheerfully:-- + +“Why, Mina, have I been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude. +Come, and we’ll have a cup of tea somewhere.” He had evidently forgotten +all about the dark stranger, as in his illness he had forgotten all that +this episode had reminded him of. I don’t like this lapsing into +forgetfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the brain. I must +not ask him, for fear I shall do more harm than good; but I must somehow +learn the facts of his journey abroad. The time is come, I fear, when I +must open that parcel, and know what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you will, +I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but it is for your own dear sake. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--A sad home-coming in every way--the house empty of the dear +soul who was so good to us; Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a slight +relapse of his malady; and now a telegram from Van Helsing, whoever he +may be:-- + +“You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five days ago, and +that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They were both buried to-day.” + +Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! poor +Lucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to have +lost such sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear our +troubles. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_22 September._--It is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has +taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I believe +in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy’s death as any +of us; but he bore himself through it like a moral Viking. If America +can go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the world +indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest preparatory to his +journey. He goes over to Amsterdam to-night, but says he returns +to-morrow night; that he only wants to make some arrangements which can +only be made personally. He is to stop with me then, if he can; he says +he has work to do in London which may take him some time. Poor old +fellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has broken down even his +iron strength. All the time of the burial he was, I could see, putting +some terrible restraint on himself. When it was all over, we were +standing beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was speaking of his part in +the operation where his blood had been transfused to his Lucy’s veins; I +could see Van Helsing’s face grow white and purple by turns. Arthur was +saying that he felt since then as if they two had been really married +and that she was his wife in the sight of God. None of us said a word of +the other operations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went +away together to the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The +moment we were alone in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of +hysterics. He has denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insisted +that it was only his sense of humour asserting itself under very +terrible conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down +the blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge; and then he cried, +till he laughed again; and laughed and cried together, just as a woman +does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the +circumstances; but it had no effect. Men and women are so different in +manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face grew +grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a time. +His reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was logical and +forceful and mysterious. He said:-- + +“Ah, you don’t comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not sad, +though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. But +no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come +just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your +door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not the true laughter. No! he is a +king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose no +time of suitability. He say, ‘I am here.’ Behold, in example I grieve my +heart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood for her, though +I am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let my other +sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her very +grave--laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her +coffin and say ‘Thud! thud!’ to my heart, till it send back the blood +from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy--that dear boy, so of +the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his +hair and eyes the same. There, you know now why I love him so. And yet +when he say things that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my +father-heart yearn to him as to no other man--not even to you, friend +John, for we are more level in experiences than father and son--yet even +at such moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, +‘Here I am! here I am!’ till the blood come dance back and bring some of +the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is +a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and +troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the +tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and +tears that burn as they fall--all dance together to the music that he +make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that +he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn +tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, +like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain +become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the +sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with +our labour, what it may be.” + +I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea; but, as I +did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As he +answered me his face grew stern, and he said in quite a different +tone:-- + +“Oh, it was the grim irony of it all--this so lovely lady garlanded with +flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered if she +were truly dead; she laid in that so fine marble house in that lonely +churchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the mother +who loved her, and whom she loved; and that sacred bell going ‘Toll! +toll! toll!’ so sad and slow; and those holy men, with the white +garments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the time +their eyes never on the page; and all of us with the bowed head. And all +for what? She is dead; so! Is it not?” + +“Well, for the life of me, Professor,” I said, “I can’t see anything to +laugh at in all that. Why, your explanation makes it a harder puzzle +than before. But even if the burial service was comic, what about poor +Art and his trouble? Why, his heart was simply breaking.” + +“Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins had +made her truly his bride?” + +“Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him.” + +“Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, then +what about the others? Ho, ho! Then this so sweet maid is a polyandrist, +and me, with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by Church’s law, though +no wits, all gone--even I, who am faithful husband to this now-no-wife, +am bigamist.” + +“I don’t see where the joke comes in there either!” I said; and I did +not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He laid +his hand on my arm, and said:-- + +“Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others +when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. +If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to laugh; +if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you could do so +now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him--for +he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time--maybe you would +perhaps pity me the most of all.” + +I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why. + +“Because I know!” + +And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day loneliness will +sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her +kin, a lordly death-house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming +London; where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill, +and where wild flowers grow of their own accord. + +So I can finish this diary; and God only knows if I shall ever begin +another. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will be to deal with +different people and different themes; for here at the end, where the +romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of my +life-work, I say sadly and without hope, + + “FINIS.” + + +_“The Westminster Gazette,” 25 September._ + + A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY. + + +The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with a +series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of what +was known to the writers of headlines as “The Kensington Horror,” or +“The Stabbing Woman,” or “The Woman in Black.” During the past two or +three days several cases have occurred of young children straying from +home or neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath. In all +these cases the children were too young to give any properly +intelligible account of themselves, but the consensus of their excuses +is that they had been with a “bloofer lady.” It has always been late in +the evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions the +children have not been found until early in the following morning. It is +generally supposed in the neighbourhood that, as the first child missed +gave as his reason for being away that a “bloofer lady” had asked him to +come for a walk, the others had picked up the phrase and used it as +occasion served. This is the more natural as the favourite game of the +little ones at present is luring each other away by wiles. A +correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending to +be the “bloofer lady” is supremely funny. Some of our caricaturists +might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by comparing the +reality and the picture. It is only in accordance with general +principles of human nature that the “bloofer lady” should be the popular +rôle at these _al fresco_ performances. Our correspondent naïvely says +that even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly attractive as some of +these grubby-faced little children pretend--and even imagine +themselves--to be. + +There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, for some of +the children, indeed all who have been missed at night, have been +slightly torn or wounded in the throat. The wounds seem such as might be +made by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much importance +individually, would tend to show that whatever animal inflicts them has +a system or method of its own. The police of the division have been +instructed to keep a sharp look-out for straying children, especially +when very young, in and around Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dog +which may be about. + + + _“The Westminster Gazette,” 25 September._ + + _Extra Special._ + + THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR. + + ANOTHER CHILD INJURED. + + _The “Bloofer Lady.”_ + +We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last +night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at the +Shooter’s Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is, perhaps, less +frequented than the other parts. It has the same tiny wound in the +throat as has been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and +looked quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, had the common +story to tell of being lured away by the “bloofer lady.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL + + +_23 September_.--Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad that +he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the terrible +things; and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down with the +responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true to himself, +and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the height of his +advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties that come upon +him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch +at home. My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, +and lock myself up in my room and read it.... + + +_24 September_.--I hadn’t the heart to write last night; that terrible +record of Jonathan’s upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, +whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth +in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those +terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall +never know, for I dare not open the subject to him.... And yet that man +we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him.... Poor fellow! I +suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some +train of thought.... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our +wedding-day he said: “Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to +the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane.” There seems to be +through it all some thread of continuity.... That fearful Count was +coming to London.... If it should be, and he came to London, with his +teeming millions.... There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must +not shrink from it.... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter +this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other +eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, +poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let +him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets +over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him +questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him. + + +_Letter, Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker._ + +“_24 September._ + +(_Confidence_) + +“Dear Madam,-- + +“I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I +sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra’s death. By the kindness of +Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am +deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find +some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you +love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is +for others’ good that I ask--to redress great wrong, and to lift much +and terrible troubles--that may be more great than you can know. May it +be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and +of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private +for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if +you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your +pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good +you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be, +enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me. + +“VAN HELSING.” + + +_Telegram, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing._ + +“_25 September._--Come to-day by quarter-past ten train if you can catch +it. Can see you any time you call. + +“WILHELMINA HARKER.” + +MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL. + +_25 September._--I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time +draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that +it will throw some light upon Jonathan’s sad experience; and as he +attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all about +her. That is the reason of his coming; it is concerning Lucy and her +sleep-walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the real +truth now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my +imagination and tinges everything with something of its own colour. Of +course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and that +awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten +in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. She must have told him +of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, and that I knew all about +it; and now he wants me to tell him what she knows, so that he may +understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything of it to Mrs. +Westenra; I should never forgive myself if any act of mine, were it even +a negative one, brought harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope, too, Dr. Van +Helsing will not blame me; I have had so much trouble and anxiety of +late that I feel I cannot bear more just at present. + +I suppose a cry does us all good at times--clears the air as other rain +does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset me, and +then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a whole day +and night, the first time we have been parted since our marriage. I do +hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and that nothing will +occur to upset him. It is two o’clock, and the doctor will be here soon +now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan’s journal unless he asks me. I am +so glad I have type-written out my own journal, so that, in case he asks +about Lucy, I can hand it to him; it will save much questioning. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, and how it +all makes my head whirl round! I feel like one in a dream. Can it be all +possible, or even a part of it? If I had not read Jonathan’s journal +first, I should never have accepted even a possibility. Poor, poor, dear +Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the good God, all this may +not upset him again. I shall try to save him from it; but it may be even +a consolation and a help to him--terrible though it be and awful in its +consequences--to know for certain that his eyes and ears and brain did +not deceive him, and that it is all true. It may be that it is the doubt +which haunts him; that when the doubt is removed, no matter +which--waking or dreaming--may prove the truth, he will be more +satisfied and better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a +good man as well as a clever one if he is Arthur’s friend and Dr. +Seward’s, and if they brought him all the way from Holland to look after +Lucy. I feel from having seen him that he _is_ good and kind and of a +noble nature. When he comes to-morrow I shall ask him about Jonathan; +and then, please God, all this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good +end. I used to think I would like to practise interviewing; Jonathan’s +friend on “The Exeter News” told him that memory was everything in such +work--that you must be able to put down exactly almost every word +spoken, even if you had to refine some of it afterwards. Here was a rare +interview; I shall try to record it _verbatim_. + +It was half-past two o’clock when the knock came. I took my courage _à +deux mains_ and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and +announced “Dr. Van Helsing.” + +I rose and bowed, and he came towards me; a man of medium weight, +strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and +a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise +of the head strikes one at once as indicative of thought and power; the +head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears. The face, +clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large, resolute, mobile +mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive +nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big, bushy brows come down and the +mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost +straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart; +such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it, +but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set +widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man’s moods. He +said to me:-- + +“Mrs. Harker, is it not?” I bowed assent. + +“That was Miss Mina Murray?” Again I assented. + +“It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear +child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead I come.” + +“Sir,” I said, “you could have no better claim on me than that you were +a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra.” And I held out my hand. He took +it and said tenderly:-- + +“Oh, Madam Mina, I knew that the friend of that poor lily girl must be +good, but I had yet to learn----” He finished his speech with a courtly +bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, so he at +once began:-- + +“I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to begin +to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that you were +with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary--you need not look +surprised, Madam Mina; it was begun after you had left, and was in +imitation of you--and in that diary she traces by inference certain +things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. In +great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so much +kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember.” + +“I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it.” + +“Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not always +so with young ladies.” + +“No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to you +if you like.” + +“Oh, Madam Mina, I will be grateful; you will do me much favour.” I +could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit--I suppose it is +some of the taste of the original apple that remains still in our +mouths--so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a grateful +bow, and said:-- + +“May I read it?” + +“If you wish,” I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and for +an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed. + +“Oh, you so clever woman!” he said. “I knew long that Mr. Jonathan was a +man of much thankfulness; but see, his wife have all the good things. +And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read it for me? +Alas! I know not the shorthand.” By this time my little joke was over, +and I was almost ashamed; so I took the typewritten copy from my +workbasket and handed it to him. + +“Forgive me,” I said: “I could not help it; but I had been thinking that +it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might not +have time to wait--not on my account, but because I know your time must +be precious--I have written it out on the typewriter for you.” + +He took it and his eyes glistened. “You are so good,” he said. “And may +I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have read.” + +“By all means,” I said, “read it over whilst I order lunch; and then you +can ask me questions whilst we eat.” He bowed and settled himself in a +chair with his back to the light, and became absorbed in the papers, +whilst I went to see after lunch chiefly in order that he might not be +disturbed. When I came back, I found him walking hurriedly up and down +the room, his face all ablaze with excitement. He rushed up to me and +took me by both hands. + +“Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, “how can I say what I owe to you? This paper +is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am daze, I am dazzle, with so +much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light every time. But that +you do not, cannot, comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so +clever woman. Madam”--he said this very solemnly--“if ever Abraham Van +Helsing can do anything for you or yours, I trust you will let me know. +It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you as a friend; as a +friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you +and those you love. There are darknesses in life, and there are lights; +you are one of the lights. You will have happy life and good life, and +your husband will be blessed in you.” + +“But, doctor, you praise me too much, and--and you do not know me.” + +“Not know you--I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and +women; I, who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to +him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you +have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every +line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your +marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women tell +all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that +angels can read; and we men who wish to know have in us something of +angels’ eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are noble too, for +you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean nature. And your +husband--tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all that fever gone, and +is he strong and hearty?” I saw here an opening to ask him about +Jonathan, so I said:-- + +“He was almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins’s +death.” He interrupted:-- + +“Oh, yes, I know, I know. I have read your last two letters.” I went +on:-- + +“I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on Thursday last he +had a sort of shock.” + +“A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That was not good. What kind of +a shock was it?” + +“He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something +which led to his brain fever.” And here the whole thing seemed to +overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he +experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that +has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose I +was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands to +him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my hands +and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me; he held my +hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness:-- + +“My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have not +had much time for friendships; but since I have been summoned to here by +my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and seen such +nobility that I feel more than ever--and it has grown with my advancing +years--the loneliness of my life. Believe, me, then, that I come here +full of respect for you, and you have given me hope--hope, not in what I +am seeking of, but that there are good women still left to make life +happy--good women, whose lives and whose truths may make good lesson for +the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I may here be of some +use to you; for if your husband suffer, he suffer within the range of my +study and experience. I promise you that I will gladly do _all_ for him +that I can--all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy +one. Now you must eat. You are overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. +Husband Jonathan would not like to see you so pale; and what he like not +where he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must eat +and smile. You have told me all about Lucy, and so now we shall not +speak of it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Exeter to-night, for I +want to think much over what you have told me, and when I have thought I +will ask you questions, if I may. And then, too, you will tell me of +husband Jonathan’s trouble so far as you can, but not yet. You must eat +now; afterwards you shall tell me all.” + +After lunch, when we went back to the drawing-room, he said to me:-- + +“And now tell me all about him.” When it came to speaking to this great +learned man, I began to fear that he would think me a weak fool, and +Jonathan a madman--that journal is all so strange--and I hesitated to go +on. But he was so sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I +trusted him, so I said:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must not +laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a sort of +fever of doubt; you must be kind to me, and not think me foolish that I +have even half believed some very strange things.” He reassured me by +his manner as well as his words when he said:-- + +“Oh, my dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which +I am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think little +of any one’s belief, no matter how strange it be. I have tried to keep +an open mind; and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close +it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that +make one doubt if they be mad or sane.” + +“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my +mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is long, +but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and +Jonathan’s. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that +happened. I dare not say anything of it; you will read for yourself and +judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and tell +me what you think.” + +“I promise,” he said as I gave him the papers; “I shall in the morning, +so soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I may.” + +“Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch +with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 3:34 train, which +will leave you at Paddington before eight.” He was surprised at my +knowledge of the trains off-hand, but he does not know that I have made +up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in +case he is in a hurry. + +So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here +thinking--thinking I don’t know what. + + * * * * * + +_Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker._ + +“_25 September, 6 o’clock._ + +“Dear Madam Mina,-- + +“I have read your husband’s so wonderful diary. You may sleep without +doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is _true_! I will pledge my +life on it. It may be worse for others; but for him and you there is no +dread. He is a noble fellow; and let me tell you from experience of men, +that one who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that +room--ay, and going a second time--is not one to be injured in +permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart are all right; this I +swear, before I have even seen him; so be at rest. I shall have much to +ask him of other things. I am blessed that to-day I come to see you, for +I have learn all at once so much that again I am dazzle--dazzle more +than ever, and I must think. + +“Yours the most faithful, + +“ABRAHAM VAN HELSING.” + + +_Letter, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing._ + +“_25 September, 6:30 p. m._ + +“My dear Dr. Van Helsing,-- + +“A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a great weight +off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in +the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really +in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a +wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night from +Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear +to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come +to breakfast at eight o’clock, if this be not too early for you? You can +get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring +you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that, +if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast. + +“Believe me, + +“Your faithful and grateful friend, + +“MINA HARKER.” + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_26 September._--I thought never to write in this diary again, but the +time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and +when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing’s visit, and of her having +given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been +about me. She showed me in the doctor’s letter that all I wrote down was +true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the doubt as to the +reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in +the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I _know_, I am not afraid, even +of the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design in getting +to London, and it was he I saw. He has got younger, and how? Van Helsing +is the man to unmask him and hunt him out, if he is anything like what +Mina says. We sat late, and talked it all over. Mina is dressing, and I +shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him over.... + +He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room where he +was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned my +face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny:-- + +“But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock.” It was +so funny to hear my wife called “Madam Mina” by this kindly, +strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said:-- + +“I _was_ ill, I _have_ had a shock; but you have cured me already.” + +“And how?” + +“By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then everything +took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, even the +evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to trust, I did not know +what to do; and so had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been +the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I mistrusted +myself. Doctor, you don’t know what it is to doubt everything, even +yourself. No, you don’t; you couldn’t with eyebrows like yours.” He +seemed pleased, and laughed as he said:-- + +“So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with +so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast; and, oh, sir, you will +pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife.” I +would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded +and stood silent. + +“She is one of God’s women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and +other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its +light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an +egoist--and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and +selfish. And you, sir--I have read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy, +and some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days from the +knowing of others; but I have seen your true self since last night. You +will give me your hand, will you not? And let us be friends for all our +lives.” + +We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me quite +choky. + +“And now,” he said, “may I ask you for some more help? I have a great +task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me here. +Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? Later on I +may ask more help, and of a different kind; but at first this will do.” + +“Look here, sir,” I said, “does what you have to do concern the Count?” + +“It does,” he said solemnly. + +“Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you +will not have time to read them; but I shall get the bundle of papers. +You can take them with you and read them in the train.” + +After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he +said:-- + +“Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take Madam Mina +too.” + +“We shall both come when you will,” I said. + +I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous +night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the +train to start, he was turning them over. His eyes suddenly seemed to +catch something in one of them, “The Westminster Gazette”--I knew it by +the colour--and he grew quite white. He read something intently, +groaning to himself: “Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! so soon!” I do not +think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and +the train moved off. This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of +the window and waved his hand, calling out: “Love to Madam Mina; I shall +write so soon as ever I can.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_26 September._--Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week +since I said “Finis,” and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather +going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to +think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as +he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business; and he had +just started in the spider line also; so he had not been of any trouble +to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I +gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with +him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of +good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that +Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to +them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my +work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might +fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming +cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened; and what is to be the +end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, +too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He +went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came +back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o’clock, +and thrust last night’s “Westminster Gazette” into my hand. + +“What do you think of that?” he asked as he stood back and folded his +arms. + +I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant; but he +took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed +away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a +passage where it described small punctured wounds on their throats. An +idea struck me, and I looked up. “Well?” he said. + +“It is like poor Lucy’s.” + +“And what do you make of it?” + +“Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured +her has injured them.” I did not quite understand his answer:-- + +“That is true indirectly, but not directly.” + +“How do you mean, Professor?” I asked. I was a little inclined to take +his seriousness lightly--for, after all, four days of rest and freedom +from burning, harrowing anxiety does help to restore one’s spirits--but +when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our +despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern. + +“Tell me!” I said. “I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to +think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture.” + +“Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to +what poor Lucy died of; not after all the hints given, not only by +events, but by me?” + +“Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste of blood.” + +“And how the blood lost or waste?” I shook my head. He stepped over and +sat down beside me, and went on:-- + +“You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is bold; +but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears +hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to +you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, +and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But +there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men’s +eyes, because they know--or think they know--some things which other men +have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to +explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to +explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, +which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend +to be young--like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not +believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor +in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in +hypnotism----” + +“Yes,” I said. “Charcot has proved that pretty well.” He smiled as he +went on: “Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course then you +understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great +Charcot--alas that he is no more!--into the very soul of the patient +that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you +simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion +be a blank? No? Then tell me--for I am student of the brain--how you +accept the hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my +friend, that there are things done to-day in electrical science which +would have been deemed unholy by the very men who discovered +electricity--who would themselves not so long before have been burned +as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it that +Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and ‘Old Parr’ one hundred and +sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men’s blood in her poor +veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we +could have save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do +you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the +qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me +why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived +for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, +till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can +you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that +come at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their +veins; how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang +on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant +nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that +it is hot, flit down on them, and then--and then in the morning are +found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?” + +“Good God, Professor!” I said, starting up. “Do you mean to tell me that +Lucy was bitten by such a bat; and that such a thing is here in London +in the nineteenth century?” He waved his hand for silence, and went +on:-- + +“Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of +men; why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties; and +why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other complaint? +Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are +some few who live on always if they be permit; that there are men and +women who cannot die? We all know--because science has vouched for the +fact--that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of +years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of +the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die +and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the +corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men +come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the Indian +fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?” Here +I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered; he so crowded on my mind +his list of nature’s eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my +imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me +some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam; but +he used then to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of +thought in mind all the time. But now I was without this help, yet I +wanted to follow him, so I said:-- + +“Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so +that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in +my mind from point to point as a mad man, and not a sane one, follows an +idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a mist, jumping +from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without +knowing where I am going.” + +“That is good image,” he said. “Well, I shall tell you. My thesis is +this: I want you to believe.” + +“To believe what?” + +“To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard once +of an American who so defined faith: ‘that faculty which enables us to +believe things which we know to be untrue.’ For one, I follow that man. +He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of +truth check the rush of a big truth, like a small rock does a railway +truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value +him; but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in +the universe.” + +“Then you want me not to let some previous conviction injure the +receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read +your lesson aright?” + +“Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now +that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to +understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children’s +throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?” + +“I suppose so.” He stood up and said solemnly:-- + +“Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is worse, +far, far worse.” + +“In God’s name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?” I cried. + +He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his +elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke:-- + +“They were made by Miss Lucy!” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY--_continued_. + + +For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during her life +struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I said to +him:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?” He raised his head and looked at me, and +somehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. “Would I were!” he +said. “Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my +friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tell +you so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you all +my life? Was it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, +now so late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from a +fearful death? Ah no!” + +“Forgive me,” said I. He went on:-- + +“My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking to you, +for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I do not +expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any abstract +truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have always +believed the ‘no’ of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad a +concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to prove +it. Dare you come with me?” + +This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth; Byron +excepted from the category, jealousy. + + “And prove the very truth he most abhorred.” + +He saw my hesitation, and spoke:-- + +“The logic is simple, no madman’s logic this time, jumping from tussock +to tussock in a misty bog. If it be not true, then proof will be relief; +at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread; yet +very dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, +I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off now and see that child +in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where the papers +say the child is, is friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were +in class at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he +will not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we +wish to learn. And then----” + +“And then?” He took a key from his pocket and held it up. “And then we +spend the night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies. This is +the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man to give to +Arthur.” My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful +ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up what +heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoon was +passing.... + +We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food, and +altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from its +throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the +similarity to those which had been on Lucy’s throat. They were smaller, +and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to what he +attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a bite of some +animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he was inclined to think +that it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the northern +heights of London. “Out of so many harmless ones,” he said, “there may +be some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species. Some +sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape; or even from +the Zoölogical Gardens a young one may have got loose, or one be bred +there from a vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten days ago +a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this direction. For a +week after, the children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the +Heath and in every alley in the place until this ‘bloofer lady’ scare +came along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even +this poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if he +might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wanted +to play with the ‘bloofer lady.’” + +“I hope,” said Van Helsing, “that when you are sending the child home +you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These fancies +to stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to remain out another +night, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you will +not let it away for some days?” + +“Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is not +healed.” + +Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, and +the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark it +was, he said:-- + +“There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us seek +somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way.” + +We dined at “Jack Straw’s Castle” along with a little crowd of +bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o’clock we +started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps +made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual +radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for he +went on unhesitatingly; but, as for me, I was in quite a mixup as to +locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till at +last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of horse +police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the wall of +the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some little difficulty--for +it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strange to us--we found +the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key, opened the creaky door, +and standing back, politely, but quite unconsciously, motioned me to +precede him. There was a delicious irony in the offer, in the +courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. My +companion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after +carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring, +one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he +fumbled in his bag, and taking out a matchbox and a piece of candle, +proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the day-time, and when wreathed +with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now, some +days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whites +turning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and the +beetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discoloured +stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished +brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a +candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have been +imagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life--animal life--was +not the only thing which could pass away. + +Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so +that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm +dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he +made assurance of Lucy’s coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took +out a turnscrew. + +“What are you going to do?” I asked. + +“To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced.” Straightway he began +taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing the +casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemed +to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have +stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took +hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: “You shall see,” and again +fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrew +through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he +made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of +the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We +doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to +such things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never +stopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side of +the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking the +edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the +coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to +look. + +I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty. + +It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but +Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, +and so emboldened to proceed in his task. “Are you satisfied now, friend +John?” he asked. + +I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as +I answered him:-- + +“I am satisfied that Lucy’s body is not in that coffin; but that only +proves one thing.” + +“And what is that, friend John?” + +“That it is not there.” + +“That is good logic,” he said, “so far as it goes. But how do you--how +can you--account for it not being there?” + +“Perhaps a body-snatcher,” I suggested. “Some of the undertaker’s people +may have stolen it.” I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it was +the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. “Ah +well!” he said, “we must have more proof. Come with me.” + +He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placed +them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the +bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door and +locked it. He handed me the key, saying: “Will you keep it? You had +better be assured.” I laughed--it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am +bound to say--as I motioned him to keep it. “A key is nothing,” I said; +“there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock +of that kind.” He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he +told me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at +the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark +figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my +sight. + +It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distant +clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled and +unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errand +and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly +observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust so altogether I had +a dreary, miserable time. + +Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white +streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyard +farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from the +Professor’s side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then I +too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs, and I +stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far off an +early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scattered +juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dim +figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden +by trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard the +rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, and +coming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When +he saw me he held it out to me, and said:-- + +“Are you satisfied now?” + +“No,” I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive. + +“Do you not see the child?” + +“Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?” I +asked. + +“We shall see,” said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our way +out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child. + +When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of +trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child’s throat. It was +without a scratch or scar of any kind. + +“Was I right?” I asked triumphantly. + +“We were just in time,” said the Professor thankfully. + +We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consulted +about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have to +give some account of our movements during the night; at least, we should +have had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child. +So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when we +heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find +it; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell out +well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman’s heavy +tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until +he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation +of astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a +cab near the “Spaniards,” and drove to town. + +I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours’ +sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shall +go with him on another expedition. + + * * * * * + +_27 September._--It was two o’clock before we found a suitable +opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all completed, +and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken themselves lazily +away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of alder-trees, we saw +the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew then that we were safe till +morning did we desire it; but the Professor told me that we should not +want more than an hour at most. Again I felt that horrid sense of the +reality of things, in which any effort of imagination seemed out of +place; and I realised distinctly the perils of the law which we were +incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so useless. +Outrageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if a woman dead +nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the height of folly to +open the tomb again, when we knew, from the evidence of our own +eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I shrugged my shoulders, however, +and rested silent, for Van Helsing had a way of going on his own road, +no matter who remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and again +courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so gruesome as +last night, but oh, how unutterably mean-looking when the sunshine +streamed in. Van Helsing walked over to Lucy’s coffin, and I followed. +He bent over and again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shock +of surprise and dismay shot through me. + +There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before her +funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever; and I +could not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay redder than +before; and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom. + +“Is this a juggle?” I said to him. + +“Are you convinced now?” said the Professor in response, and as he spoke +he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder, pulled back the +dead lips and showed the white teeth. + +“See,” he went on, “see, they are even sharper than before. With this +and this”--and he touched one of the canine teeth and that below +it--“the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friend +John?” Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I _could_ not +accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with an attempt to +argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said:-- + +“She may have been placed here since last night.” + +“Indeed? That is so, and by whom?” + +“I do not know. Some one has done it.” + +“And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would not +look so.” I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not +seem to notice my silence; at any rate, he showed neither chagrin nor +triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, raising +the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening the lips and +examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and said:-- + +“Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded; here is +some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the vampire +when she was in a trance, sleep-walking--oh, you start; you do not know +that, friend John, but you shall know it all later--and in trance could +he best come to take more blood. In trance she died, and in trance she +is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other. Usually when +the Un-Dead sleep at home”--as he spoke he made a comprehensive sweep of +his arm to designate what to a vampire was “home”--“their face show what +they are, but this so sweet that was when she not Un-Dead she go back to +the nothings of the common dead. There is no malign there, see, and so +it make hard that I must kill her in her sleep.” This turned my blood +cold, and it began to dawn upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing’s +theories; but if she were really dead, what was there of terror in the +idea of killing her? He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in +my face, for he said almost joyously:-- + +“Ah, you believe now?” + +I answered: “Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing to +accept. How will you do this bloody work?” + +“I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shall +drive a stake through her body.” It made me shudder to think of so +mutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling +was not so strong as I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning to +shudder at the presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing +called it, and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective, +or all objective? + +I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he stood as +if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his bag with a +snap, and said:-- + +“I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. If I +did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, what is +to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things that are +thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This is +simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to act +now would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may have to +want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If you, who saw the +wounds on Lucy’s throat, and saw the wounds so similar on the child’s at +the hospital; if you, who saw the coffin empty last night and full +to-day with a woman who have not change only to be more rose and more +beautiful in a whole week, after she die--if you know of this and know +of the white figure last night that brought the child to the churchyard, +and yet of your own senses you did not believe, how, then, can I expect +Arthur, who know none of those things, to believe? He doubted me when I +took him from her kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven me +because in some mistaken idea I have done things that prevent him say +good-bye as he ought; and he may think that in some more mistaken idea +this woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have +killed her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that +have killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet +he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will +sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint +his dreams with horrors of what she must have suffered; and again, he +will think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all, +an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now, since +I know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know that he +must pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow, +must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to +him; then we can act for good all round and send him peace. My mind is +made up. Let us go. You return home for to-night to your asylum, and see +that all be well. As for me, I shall spend the night here in this +churchyard in my own way. To-morrow night you will come to me to the +Berkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too, +and also that so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later we +shall all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and +there dine, for I must be back here before the sun set.” + +So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of the +churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to Piccadilly. + + +_Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau, Berkeley Hotel directed to +John Seward, M. D._ + +(Not delivered.) + +“_27 September._ + +“Friend John,-- + +“I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch in +that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shall not +leave to-night, that so on the morrow night she may be more eager. +Therefore I shall fix some things she like not--garlic and a +crucifix--and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead, +and will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out; they +may not prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead is +desperate, and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it may +be. I shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise, +and if there be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss +Lucy or from her, I have no fear; but that other to whom is there that +she is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find shelter. +He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all +along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy’s life, and +we lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have always the +strength in his hand of twenty men; even we four who gave our strength +to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can summon his wolf and +I know not what. So if it be that he come thither on this night he shall +find me; but none other shall--until it be too late. But it may be that +he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should; his +hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard where the +Un-Dead woman sleep, and the one old man watch. + +“Therefore I write this in case.... Take the papers that are with this, +the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find this +great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a stake +through it, so that the world may rest from him. + +“If it be so, farewell. + +“VAN HELSING.” + + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_28 September._--It is wonderful what a good night’s sleep will do for +one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing’s monstrous +ideas; but now they seem to start out lurid before me as outrages on +common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if his +mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be _some_ +rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is it possible that +the Professor can have done it himself? He is so abnormally clever that +if he went off his head he would carry out his intent with regard to +some fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loath to think it, and indeed +it would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find that Van +Helsing was mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may get some +light on the mystery. + + * * * * * + +_29 September, morning._.... Last night, at a little before ten o’clock, +Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing’s room; he told us all that he +wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all +our wills were centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would +all come with him too, “for,” he said, “there is a grave duty to be done +there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?” This query was +directly addressed to Lord Godalming. + +“I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble +around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have been +curious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but the +more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself +that I’m about up a tree as to any meaning about anything.” + +“Me too,” said Quincey Morris laconically. + +“Oh,” said the Professor, “then you are nearer the beginning, both of +you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can +even get so far as to begin.” + +It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame of +mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he said +with intense gravity:-- + +“I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I +know, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you will +know, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you promise me +in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for a +time--I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may +be--you shall not blame yourselves for anything.” + +“That’s frank anyhow,” broke in Quincey. “I’ll answer for the Professor. +I don’t quite see his drift, but I swear he’s honest; and that’s good +enough for me.” + +“I thank you, sir,” said Van Helsing proudly. “I have done myself the +honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dear +to me.” He held out a hand, which Quincey took. + +Then Arthur spoke out:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, I don’t quite like to ‘buy a pig in a poke,’ as they +say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentleman +or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise. +If you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either of +these two, then I give my consent at once; though for the life of me, I +cannot understand what you are driving at.” + +“I accept your limitation,” said Van Helsing, “and all I ask of you is +that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will first +consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your +reservations.” + +“Agreed!” said Arthur; “that is only fair. And now that the +_pourparlers_ are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?” + +“I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at +Kingstead.” + +Arthur’s face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:-- + +“Where poor Lucy is buried?” The Professor bowed. Arthur went on: “And +when there?” + +“To enter the tomb!” Arthur stood up. + +“Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous joke? Pardon me, +I see that you are in earnest.” He sat down again, but I could see that +he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There was +silence until he asked again:-- + +“And when in the tomb?” + +“To open the coffin.” + +“This is too much!” he said, angrily rising again. “I am willing to be +patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this--this desecration +of the grave--of one who----” He fairly choked with indignation. The +Professor looked pityingly at him. + +“If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend,” he said, “God knows I +would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and +for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!” + +Arthur looked up with set white face and said:-- + +“Take care, sir, take care!” + +“Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?” said Van Helsing. +“And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go +on?” + +“That’s fair enough,” broke in Morris. + +After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:-- + +“Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to +her. But if she be not dead----” + +Arthur jumped to his feet. + +“Good God!” he cried. “What do you mean? Has there been any mistake; has +she been buried alive?” He groaned in anguish that not even hope could +soften. + +“I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go no +further than to say that she might be Un-Dead.” + +“Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or what +is it?” + +“There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they +may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. But +I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?” + +“Heavens and earth, no!” cried Arthur in a storm of passion. “Not for +the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr. +Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you should +torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to +cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad to speak such things, or +am I mad to listen to them? Don’t dare to think more of such a +desecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have a +duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do +it!” + +Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and +said, gravely and sternly:-- + +“My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a duty +to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I ask you +now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and if when +later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its +fulfilment even than I am, then--then I shall do my duty, whatever it +may seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship’s wishes I shall +hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and where +you will.” His voice broke a little, and he went on with a voice full of +pity:-- + +“But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of +acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring +my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that if +the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from +you will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can +to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so +much of labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land +to do what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and +then to help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her--I +am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness--I gave what you +gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her +lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights +and days--before death, after death; and if my death can do her good +even now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely.” He +said this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected +by it. He took the old man’s hand and said in a broken voice:-- + +“Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least I +shall go with you and wait.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY--_continued_ + + +It was just a quarter before twelve o’clock when we got into the +churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional gleams +of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded across +the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing slightly +in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I looked +well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a place laden with so +sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself well. I took it +that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a counteractant +to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural +hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by +entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. +He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin. Arthur stepped +forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:-- + +“You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that +coffin?” + +“It was.” The Professor turned to the rest saying:-- + +“You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me.” He +took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur +looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped +forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or, +at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, +the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away +again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent. +Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and +recoiled. + +The coffin was empty! + +For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by +Quincey Morris:-- + +“Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn’t ask +such a thing ordinarily--I wouldn’t so dishonour you as to imply a +doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour. +Is this your doing?” + +“I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor +touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and +I came here--with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which +was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and +saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in +day-time, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John?” + +“Yes.” + +“That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing, +and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came +here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here +all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable +that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic, +which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last +night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away my +garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But +bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me +outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be. +So”--here he shut the dark slide of his lantern--“now to the outside.” +He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the +door behind him. + +Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror of +that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the passing +gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and +passing--like the gladness and sorrow of a man’s life; how sweet it was +to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay; how +humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to +hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each +in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I +could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the +mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to +throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing’s conclusions. Quincey +Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and +accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has to +stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of +tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a +definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like +thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white +napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like +dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the +mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin +strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its +setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, +asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near +also, as they too were curious. He answered:-- + +“I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter.” + +“And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?” asked Quincey. +“Great Scott! Is this a game?” + +“It is.” + +“What is that which you are using?” This time the question was by +Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:-- + +“The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence.” It was an +answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually +that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor’s, a +purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was +impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places +assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any +one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself +been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet I, +who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink +within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress, or +yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did tree +or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so +mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a +woeful presage through the night. + +There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from the +Professor a keen “S-s-s-s!” He pointed; and far down the avenue of yews +we saw a white figure advance--a dim white figure, which held something +dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of +moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in startling +prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. +We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a +fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a +child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We +were starting forward, but the Professor’s warning hand, seen by us as +he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked the +white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see +clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, +and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features of +Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was +turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous +wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we +all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the +tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the +concentrated light that fell on Lucy’s face we could see that the lips +were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her +chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe. + +We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even +Van Helsing’s iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had +not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen. + +When Lucy--I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her +shape--saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives +when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy’s eyes in form +and colour; but Lucy’s eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of +the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love +passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have +done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy +light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, +how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to +the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had +clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls +over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There +was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when +she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell +back and hid his face in his hands. + +She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, +said:-- + +“Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are +hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!” + +There was something diabolically sweet in her tones--something of the +tingling of glass when struck--which rang through the brains even of us +who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under +a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She +was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between +them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a +suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter +the tomb. + +When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if +arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was +shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no +quiver from Van Helsing’s iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled +malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by +mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to throw +out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of +the flesh were the coils of Medusa’s snakes, and the lovely, +blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of +the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death--if looks could +kill--we saw it at that moment. + +And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained +between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of +entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:-- + +“Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?” + +Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as he +answered:-- + +“Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like +this ever any more;” and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I +simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the +click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close +to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred +emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified +amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal +body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice +where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of +relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty +to the edges of the door. + +When this was done, he lifted the child and said: + +“Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a +funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The +friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock +the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not like this of +to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow +night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police will find +him, as on the other night; and then to home.” Coming close to Arthur, +he said:-- + +“My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial; but after, when you look +back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the bitter +waters, my child. By this time to-morrow you will, please God, have +passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not mourn +overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me.” + +Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other +on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all +slept with more or less reality of sleep. + + * * * * * + +_29 September, night._--A little before twelve o’clock we three--Arthur, +Quincey Morris, and myself--called for the Professor. It was odd to +notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of +course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of +us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by half-past one, and +strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that when the +gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton under the belief +that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to +ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had with him a +long leather one, something like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of +fair weight. + +When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up +the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the +Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing it +behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and also +two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting their own +ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient to work +by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy’s coffin we all looked--Arthur +trembling like an aspen--and saw that the body lay there in all its +death-beauty. But there was no love in my own heart, nothing but +loathing for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy’s shape without her +soul. I could see even Arthur’s face grow hard as he looked. Presently +he said to Van Helsing:-- + +“Is this really Lucy’s body, or only a demon in her shape?” + +“It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you all see her +as she was, and is.” + +She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed teeth, +the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth--which it made one shudder to +see--the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like a +devilish mockery of Lucy’s sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual +methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and +placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and some +plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out, when lit in +a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with a blue +flame; then his operating knives, which he placed to hand; and last a +round wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick and about +three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and +was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such +as in households is used in the coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To +me, a doctor’s preparations for work of any kind are stimulating and +bracing, but the effect of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was +to cause them a sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their +courage, and remained silent and quiet. + +When all was ready, Van Helsing said:-- + +“Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the lore and +experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers +of the Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the +curse of immortality; they cannot die, but must go on age after age +adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world; for all that +die from the preying of the Un-Dead becomes themselves Un-Dead, and prey +on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the +ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met +that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die; or again, last night +when you open your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, +have become _nosferatu_, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would +all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have fill us with horror. +The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those +children whose blood she suck are not as yet so much the worse; but if +she live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood and by her +power over them they come to her; and so she draw their blood with that +so wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease; the tiny +wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their plays +unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when +this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor +lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by +night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by day, she +shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will +be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free. +To this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better +right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the +night when sleep is not: ‘It was my hand that sent her to the stars; it +was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she would +herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose?’ Tell me if there be +such a one amongst us?” + +We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did, the infinite +kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which would restore +Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory; he stepped forward and +said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale as +snow:-- + +“My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me +what I am to do, and I shall not falter!” Van Helsing laid a hand on his +shoulder, and said:-- + +“Brave lad! A moment’s courage, and it is done. This stake must be +driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal--be not deceived in +that--but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more +than your pain was great; from this grim tomb you will emerge as though +you tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun. Only +think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we pray for +you all the time.” + +“Go on,” said Arthur hoarsely. “Tell me what I am to do.” + +“Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point over the +heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer for +the dead--I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others shall +follow--strike in God’s name, that so all may be well with the dead that +we love and that the Un-Dead pass away.” + +Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set on +action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing opened +his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we +could. Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could +see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might. + +The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling screech +came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted +in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the +lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur +never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm +rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst +the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His +face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it; the sight of it +gave us courage so that our voices seemed to ring through the little +vault. + +And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and the +teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. The +terrible task was over. + +The hammer fell from Arthur’s hand. He reeled and would have fallen had +we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from his forehead, +and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain +on him; and had he not been forced to his task by more than human +considerations he could never have gone through with it. For a few +minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look towards the +coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one +to the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had +been seated on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a glad, +strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the gloom of +horror that lay upon it. + +There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded +and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a +privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in +her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that +there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care and +pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they marked her truth +to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like +sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and +symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever. + +Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and said to +him:-- + +“And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?” + +The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man’s hand +in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said:-- + +“Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again, +and me peace.” He put his hands on the Professor’s shoulder, and laying +his head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood +unmoving. When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him:-- + +“And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as +she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning +devil now--not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is +the devil’s Un-Dead. She is God’s true dead, whose soul is with Him!” + +Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out of the +tomb; the Professor and I sawed the top off the stake, leaving the point +of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and filled the mouth with +garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin-lid, +and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the Professor locked +the door he gave the key to Arthur. + +Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it +seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was +gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves +on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy. + +Before we moved away Van Helsing said:-- + +“Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most harrowing +to ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find out the author +of all this our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can +follow; but it is a long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in +it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all +of us--is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do +we not promise to go on to the bitter end?” + +Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said the +Professor as we moved off:-- + +“Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at seven of +the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you +know not as yet; and I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans +unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult +about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for Amsterdam, but shall +return to-morrow night. And then begins our great quest. But first I +shall have much to say, so that you may know what is to do and to dread. +Then our promise shall be made to each other anew; for there is a +terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare we +must not draw back.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY--_continued_ + + +When we arrived at the Berkeley Hotel, Van Helsing found a telegram +waiting for him:-- + + “Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news.--MINA + HARKER.” + +The Professor was delighted. “Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina,” he said, +“pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go to your +house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. Telegraph her _en +route_, so that she may be prepared.” + +When the wire was despatched he had a cup of tea; over it he told me of +a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a typewritten +copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker’s diary at Whitby. “Take these,” he +said, “and study them well. When I have returned you will be master of +all the facts, and we can then better enter on our inquisition. Keep +them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. You will need all your +faith, even you who have had such an experience as that of to-day. What +is here told,” he laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet of +papers as he spoke, “may be the beginning of the end to you and me and +many another; or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the +earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open mind; and if you can add in +any way to the story here told do so, for it is all-important. You have +kept diary of all these so strange things; is it not so? Yes! Then we +shall go through all these together when we meet.” He then made ready +for his departure, and shortly after drove off to Liverpool Street. I +took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes before +the train came in. + +The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to arrival +platforms; and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my +guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty-looking girl stepped up to me, and, +after a quick glance, said: “Dr. Seward, is it not?” + +“And you are Mrs. Harker!” I answered at once; whereupon she held out +her hand. + +“I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy; but----” She stopped +suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face. + +The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for it +was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a +typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I had +sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting-room and bedroom +prepared at once for Mrs. Harker. + +In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a +lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a shudder +when we entered. + +She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, as +she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my phonograph +diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance of looking at +the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they lie open before +me. I must get her interested in something, so that I may have an +opportunity of reading them. She does not know how precious time is, or +what a task we have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her. Here +she is! + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_29 September._--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward’s +study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him talking +with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at +the door, and on his calling out, “Come in,” I entered. + +To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite alone, +and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the +description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much +interested. + +“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” I said; “but I stayed at the door +as I heard you talking, and thought there was some one with you.” + +“Oh,” he replied with a smile, “I was only entering my diary.” + +“Your diary?” I asked him in surprise. + +“Yes,” he answered. “I keep it in this.” As he spoke he laid his hand on +the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted out:-- + +“Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?” + +“Certainly,” he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train +for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his face. + +“The fact is,” he began awkwardly, “I only keep my diary in it; and as +it is entirely--almost entirely--about my cases, it may be awkward--that +is, I mean----” He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his +embarrassment:-- + +“You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died; +for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, very +dear to me.” + +To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face:-- + +“Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!” + +“Why not?” I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me. +Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an excuse. +At length he stammered out:-- + +“You see, I do not know how to pick out any particular part of the +diary.” Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said +with unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the naïveté +of a child: “That’s quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian!” I could +not but smile, at which he grimaced. “I gave myself away that time!” he +said. “But do you know that, although I have kept the diary for months +past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any particular +part of it in case I wanted to look it up?” By this time my mind was +made up that the diary of a doctor who attended Lucy might have +something to add to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being, and +I said boldly:-- + +“Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my +typewriter.” He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said:-- + +“No! no! no! For all the world, I wouldn’t let you know that terrible +story!” + +Then it was terrible; my intuition was right! For a moment I thought, +and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for something or +some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch of typewriting on +the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and, without his thinking, +followed their direction. As they saw the parcel he realised my meaning. + +“You do not know me,” I said. “When you have read those papers--my own +diary and my husband’s also, which I have typed--you will know me +better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart in +this cause; but, of course, you do not know me--yet; and I must not +expect you to trust me so far.” + +He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy was right about +him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in +order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and +said:-- + +“You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know you. +But I know you now; and let me say that I should have known you long +ago. I know that Lucy told you of me; she told me of you too. May I make +the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear them--the +first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they will not horrify +you; then you will know me better. Dinner will by then be ready. In the +meantime I shall read over some of these documents, and shall be better +able to understand certain things.” He carried the phonograph himself up +to my sitting-room and adjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something +pleasant, I am sure; for it will tell me the other side of a true love +episode of which I know one side already.... + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_29 September._--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan +Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without +thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce +dinner, so I said: “She is possibly tired; let dinner wait an hour,” and +I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker’s diary, when +she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her eyes were +flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I have had +cause for tears, God knows! but the relief of them was denied me; and +now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened with recent tears, went +straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could:-- + +“I greatly fear I have distressed you.” + +“Oh, no, not distressed me,” she replied, “but I have been more touched +than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, but it is +cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of your heart. +It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one must hear them +spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I have copied out the +words on my typewriter, and none other need now hear your heart beat, as +I did.” + +“No one need ever know, shall ever know,” I said in a low voice. She +laid her hand on mine and said very gravely:-- + +“Ah, but they must!” + +“Must! But why?” I asked. + +“Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor dear Lucy’s +death and all that led to it; because in the struggle which we have +before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all +the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the +cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to know; +but I can see that there are in your record many lights to this dark +mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a certain +point; and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 September, +how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought +out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night since Professor Van +Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more information, and he +will be here to-morrow to help us. We need have no secrets amongst us; +working together and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than +if some of us were in the dark.” She looked at me so appealingly, and at +the same time manifested such courage and resolution in her bearing, +that I gave in at once to her wishes. “You shall,” I said, “do as you +like in the matter. God forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible +things yet to learn of; but if you have so far travelled on the road to +poor Lucy’s death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the +dark. Nay, the end--the very end--may give you a gleam of peace. Come, +there is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is before us; +we have a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn +the rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask--if there be anything +which you do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were +present.” + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_29 September._--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study. He +brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took my typewriter. He +placed me in a comfortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so that I +could touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it in case +I should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with his +back to me, so that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I +put the forked metal to my ears and listened. + +When the terrible story of Lucy’s death, and--and all that followed, was +done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of a +fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a +horrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case-bottle from a +cupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat restored +me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came through all +the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my dear, dear Lucy +was at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne it without +making a scene. It is all so wild, and mysterious, and strange that if I +had not known Jonathan’s experience in Transylvania I could not have +believed. As it was, I didn’t know what to believe, and so got out of my +difficulty by attending to something else. I took the cover off my +typewriter, and said to Dr. Seward:-- + +“Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van Helsing +when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come on here when +he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates are everything, +and I think that if we get all our material ready, and have every item +put in chronological order, we shall have done much. You tell me that +Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let us be able to tell him +when they come.” He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I +began to typewrite from the beginning of the seventh cylinder. I used +manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done with +all the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went about +his work of going his round of the patients; when he had finished he +came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not feel too lonely +whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is; the world seems full of +good men--even if there _are_ monsters in it. Before I left him I +remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of the Professor’s +perturbation at reading something in an evening paper at the station at +Exeter; so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed the +files of “The Westminster Gazette” and “The Pall Mall Gazette,” and took +them to my room. I remember how much “The Dailygraph” and “The Whitby +Gazette,” of which I had made cuttings, helped us to understand the +terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look +through the evening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new +light. I am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_30 September._--Mr. Harker arrived at nine o’clock. He had got his +wife’s wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one can +judge from his face, and full of energy. If this journal be true--and +judging by one’s own wonderful experiences, it must be--he is also a man +of great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time was a +remarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it I was +prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but hardly the quiet, +business-like gentleman who came here to-day. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own room, +and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the typewriter. They +are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that they are knitting together in +chronological order every scrap of evidence they have. Harker has got +the letters between the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and the +carriers in London who took charge of them. He is now reading his wife’s +typescript of my diary. I wonder what they make out of it. Here it +is.... + + Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be + the Count’s hiding-place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues + from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters + relating to the purchase of the house were with the typescript. Oh, + if we had only had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! + Stop; that way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and is again + collating his material. He says that by dinner-time they will be + able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the + meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of + index to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly see this yet, + but when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing + that Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could have + found the dates otherwise.... + + I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands + folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any + one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of + subjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own + accord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my + knowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite + confidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I + not had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of + his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him after a + brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All + those outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the + Count. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that + his instinct is satisfied as to the vampire’s ultimate triumph? + Stay; he is himself zoöphagous, and in his wild ravings outside the + chapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of “master.” This + all seems confirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came + away; my friend is just a little too sane at present to make it + safe to probe him too deep with questions. He might begin to think, + and then--! So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of his; so + I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after him, and to + have a strait-waistcoat ready in case of need. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_29 September, in train to London._--When I received Mr. Billington’s +courteous message that he would give me any information in his power I +thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the spot, such +inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid cargo +of the Count’s to its place in London. Later, we may be able to deal +with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, and +brought me to his father’s house, where they had decided that I must +stay the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality: +give a guest everything, and leave him free to do as he likes. They all +knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington had +ready in his office all the papers concerning the consignment of boxes. +It gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which I had +seen on the Count’s table before I knew of his diabolical plans. +Everything had been carefully thought out, and done systematically and +with precision. He seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which +might be placed by accident in the way of his intentions being carried +out. To use an Americanism, he had “taken no chances,” and the absolute +accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled, was simply the +logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and took note of it: +“Fifty cases of common earth, to be used for experimental purposes.” +Also the copy of letter to Carter Paterson, and their reply; of both of +these I got copies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could +give me, so I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs +officers and the harbour-master. They had all something to say of the +strange entry of the ship, which is already taking its place in local +tradition; but no one could add to the simple description “Fifty cases +of common earth.” I then saw the station-master, who kindly put me in +communication with the men who had actually received the boxes. Their +tally was exact with the list, and they had nothing to add except that +the boxes were “main and mortal heavy,” and that shifting them was dry +work. One of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn’t any +gentleman “such-like as yourself, squire,” to show some sort of +appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form; another put in a rider +that the thirst then generated was such that even the time which had +elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I took care +before leaving to lift, for ever and adequately, this source of +reproach. + + * * * * * + +_30 September._--The station-master was good enough to give me a line to +his old companion the station-master at King’s Cross, so that when I +arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrival of +the boxes. He, too, put me at once in communication with the proper +officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the original +invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been here +limited; a noble use of them had, however, been made, and again I was +compelled to deal with the result in an _ex post facto_ manner. + +From thence I went on to Carter Paterson’s central office, where I met +with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in their +day-book and letter-book, and at once telephoned to their King’s Cross +office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming +were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, sending +also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected with the +delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeing +exactly; the carriers’ men were able to supplement the paucity of the +written words with a few details. These were, I shortly found, connected +almost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and of the consequent +thirst engendered in the operators. On my affording an opportunity, +through the medium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a +later period, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked:-- + +“That ’ere ’ouse, guv’nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! but it +ain’t been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that thick in +the place that you might have slep’ on it without ’urtin’ of yer bones; +an’ the place was that neglected that yer might ’ave smelled ole +Jerusalem in it. But the ole chapel--that took the cike, that did! Me +and my mate, we thort we wouldn’t never git out quick enough. Lor’, I +wouldn’t take less nor a quid a moment to stay there arter dark.” + +Having been in the house, I could well believe him; but if he knew what +I know, he would, I think, have raised his terms. + +Of one thing I am now satisfied: that _all_ the boxes which arrived at +Whitby from Varna in the _Demeter_ were safely deposited in the old +chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any have +since been removed--as from Dr. Seward’s diary I fear. + +I shall try to see the carter who took away the boxes from Carfax when +Renfield attacked them. By following up this clue we may learn a good +deal. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papers +into order. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal_ + +_30 September._--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain myself. +It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which I have had: +that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old wound might act +detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with as brave a +face as I could, but I was sick with apprehension. The effort has, +however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never so strong, never +so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It is just as that dear, good +Professor Van Helsing said: he is true grit, and he improves under +strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full of life and +hope and determination; we have got everything in order for to-night. I +feel myself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity any +thing so hunted as is the Count. That is just it: this Thing is not +human--not even beast. To read Dr. Seward’s account of poor Lucy’s +death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of pity in +one’s heart. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we +expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan with +him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for it +brought back all poor dear Lucy’s hopes of only a few months ago. Of +course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr. Van +Helsing, too, has been quite “blowing my trumpet,” as Mr. Morris +expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all +about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what to +say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge; so they +had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter over, and +came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to post +them in affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward’s diary that +they had been at Lucy’s death--her real death--and that I need not fear +to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, as well as I +could, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and that my husband +and I, having typewritten them, had just finished putting them in order. +I gave them each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got +his and turned it over--it does make a pretty good pile--he said:-- + +“Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?” + +I nodded, and he went on:-- + +“I don’t quite see the drift of it; but you people are all so good and +kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, that all +I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. I have +had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a man humble +to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poor Lucy--” +Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could hear +the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy, just laid +a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked quietly out of the +room. I suppose there is something in woman’s nature that makes a man +free to break down before her and express his feelings on the tender or +emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his manhood; for when +Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down on the sofa and +gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I +hope he didn’t think it forward of me, and that if he ever thinks of it +afterwards he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him; I +_know_ he never will--he is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for I +could see that his heart was breaking:-- + +“I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to +her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let +me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have +had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can +help in your affliction, won’t you let me be of some little service--for +Lucy’s sake?” + +In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It seemed +to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found a +vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat +his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat +down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinite +pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his +head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with +emotion. + +We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above +smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big +sorrowing man’s head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby +that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he +were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all was. + +After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an +apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that for +days and nights past--weary days and sleepless nights--he had been +unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of +sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or with +whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow was +surrounded, he could speak freely. “I know now how I suffered,” he said, +as he dried his eyes, “but I do not know even yet--and none other can +ever know--how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall +know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful +now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be +like a brother, will you not, for all our lives--for dear Lucy’s sake?” + +“For dear Lucy’s sake,” I said as we clasped hands. “Ay, and for your +own sake,” he added, “for if a man’s esteem and gratitude are ever worth +the winning, you have won mine to-day. If ever the future should bring +to you a time when you need a man’s help, believe me, you will not call +in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to break the +sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come, promise me that you +will let me know.” He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that +I felt it would comfort him, so I said:-- + +“I promise.” + +As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window. +He turned as he heard my footsteps. “How is Art?” he said. Then noticing +my red eyes, he went on: “Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor +old fellow! he needs it. No one but a woman can help a man when he is in +trouble of the heart; and he had no one to comfort him.” + +He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw the +manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would realise +how much I knew; so I said to him:-- + +“I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me +be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You +will know, later on, why I speak.” He saw that I was in earnest, and +stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed +but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I +bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a +momentary choking in his throat; he said quite calmly:-- + +“Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so long +as ever you live!” Then he went into the study to his friend. + +“Little girl!”--the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he +proved himself a friend! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_30 September._--I got home at five o’clock, and found that Godalming +and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript +of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife +had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the +carriers’ men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave +us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time since I +have lived in it, this old house seemed like _home_. When we had +finished, Mrs. Harker said:-- + +“Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr. +Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary +interests me so much!” She looked so appealing and so pretty that I +could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should; so +I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a +lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered: “Why?” + +“She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it,” I +answered. “Oh, very well,” he said; “let her come in, by all means; but +just wait a minute till I tidy up the place.” His method of tidying was +peculiar: he simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes +before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was +jealous of, some interference. When he had got through his disgusting +task, he said cheerfully: “Let the lady come in,” and sat down on the +edge of his bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised so that +he could see her as she entered. For a moment I thought that he might +have some homicidal intent; I remembered how quiet he had been just +before he attacked me in my own study, and I took care to stand where I +could seize him at once if he attempted to make a spring at her. She +came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would at once command +the respect of any lunatic--for easiness is one of the qualities mad +people most respect. She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and +held out her hand. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Renfield,” said she. “You see, I know you, for Dr. +Seward has told me of you.” He made no immediate reply, but eyed her all +over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way to one +of wonder, which merged in doubt; then, to my intense astonishment, he +said:-- + +“You’re not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can’t be, +you know, for she’s dead.” Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied:-- + +“Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before I ever +saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker.” + +“Then what are you doing here?” + +“My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward.” + +“Then don’t stay.” + +“But why not?” I thought that this style of conversation might not be +pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined in:-- + +“How did you know I wanted to marry any one?” His reply was simply +contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned his eyes from Mrs. +Harker to me, instantly turning them back again:-- + +“What an asinine question!” + +“I don’t see that at all, Mr. Renfield,” said Mrs. Harker, at once +championing me. He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as +he had shown contempt to me:-- + +“You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so +loved and honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of +interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not only by his +household and his friends, but even by his patients, who, being some of +them hardly in mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and +effects. Since I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I +cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates +lean towards the errors of _non causa_ and _ignoratio elenchi_.” I +positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was my own pet +lunatic--the most pronounced of his type that I had ever met +with--talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner of a polished +gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker’s presence which had touched +some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, or in any +way due to her unconscious influence, she must have some rare gift or +power. + +We continued to talk for some time; and, seeing that he was seemingly +quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me questioningly as she +began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I was again astonished, for +he addressed himself to the question with the impartiality of the +completest sanity; he even took himself as an example when he mentioned +certain things. + +“Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. Indeed, +it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on my being +put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive and +perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no +matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely prolong +life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually tried to +take human life. The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I +tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers by +the assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of his +blood--relying, of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, ‘For the blood is +the life.’ Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has +vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn’t that true, +doctor?” I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what to +either think or say; it was hard to imagine that I had seen him eat up +his spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch, I +saw that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs. +Harker that it was time to leave. She came at once, after saying +pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: “Good-bye, and I hope I may see you often, +under auspices pleasanter to yourself,” to which, to my astonishment, he +replied:-- + +“Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face again. +May He bless and keep you!” + +When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys behind +me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy first took +ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he has been for +many a long day. + +Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager nimbleness of a +boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying:-- + +“Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been busy, for I come +here to stay if need be. All affairs are settled with me, and I have +much to tell. Madam Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And +Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too? Good!” + +As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of how my own +diary had come to be of some use through Mrs. Harker’s suggestion; at +which the Professor interrupted me:-- + +“Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man’s brain--a brain that a man +should have were he much gifted--and a woman’s heart. The good God +fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good +combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman of help +to us; after to-night she must not have to do with this so terrible +affair. It is not good that she run a risk so great. We men are +determined--nay, are we not pledged?--to destroy this monster; but it is +no part for a woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her +in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in +waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. And, besides, +she is young woman and not so long married; there may be other things to +think of some time, if not now. You tell me she has wrote all, then she +must consult with us; but to-morrow she say good-bye to this work, and +we go alone.” I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what we +had found in his absence: that the house which Dracula had bought was +the very next one to my own. He was amazed, and a great concern seemed +to come on him. “Oh that we had known it before!” he said, “for then we +might have reached him in time to save poor Lucy. However, ‘the milk +that is spilt cries not out afterwards,’ as you say. We shall not think +of that, but go on our way to the end.” Then he fell into a silence that +lasted till we entered my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for +dinner he said to Mrs. Harker:-- + +“I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend John that you and your husband have +put up in exact order all things that have been, up to this moment.” + +“Not up to this moment, Professor,” she said impulsively, “but up to +this morning.” + +“But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light all the +little things have made. We have told our secrets, and yet no one who +has told is the worse for it.” + +Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her pockets, she +said:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must go in. It +is my record of to-day. I too have seen the need of putting down at +present everything, however trivial; but there is little in this except +what is personal. Must it go in?” The Professor read it over gravely, +and handed it back, saying:-- + +“It need not go in if you do not wish it; but I pray that it may. It can +but make your husband love you the more, and all us, your friends, more +honour you--as well as more esteem and love.” She took it back with +another blush and a bright smile. + +And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are complete +and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study after dinner, +and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine o’clock. The rest of us +have already read everything; so when we meet in the study we shall all +be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle with this +terrible and mysterious enemy. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_30 September._--When we met in Dr. Seward’s study two hours after +dinner, which had been at six o’clock, we unconsciously formed a sort of +board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took the head of the table, to +which Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He made me sit +next to him on his right, and asked me to act as secretary; Jonathan sat +next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. +Morris--Lord Godalming being next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in the +centre. The Professor said:-- + +“I may, I suppose, take it that we are all acquainted with the facts +that are in these papers.” We all expressed assent, and he went on:-- + +“Then it were, I think good that I tell you something of the kind of +enemy with which we have to deal. I shall then make known to you +something of the history of this man, which has been ascertained for me. +So we then can discuss how we shall act, and can take our measure +according. + +“There are such beings as vampires; some of us have evidence that they +exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the +teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane +peoples. I admit that at the first I was sceptic. Were it not that +through long years I have train myself to keep an open mind, I could not +have believe until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. ‘See! see! +I prove; I prove.’ Alas! Had I known at the first what now I know--nay, +had I even guess at him--one so precious life had been spared to many of +us who did love her. But that is gone; and we must so work, that other +poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The _nosferatu_ do not die +like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger; and being +stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This vampire which is +amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men; he is of +cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages; he have +still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the +divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are +for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil in +callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within limitations, appear +at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to him; he +can, within his range, direct the elements; the storm, the fog, the +thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and +the bat--the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and become +small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to +begin our strike to destroy him? How shall we find his where; and having +found it, how can we destroy? My friends, this is much; it is a terrible +task that we undertake, and there may be consequence to make the brave +shudder. For if we fail in this our fight he must surely win; and then +where end we? Life is nothings; I heed him not. But to fail here, is not +mere life or death. It is that we become as him; that we henceforward +become foul things of the night like him--without heart or conscience, +preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best. To us for +ever are the gates of heaven shut; for who shall open them to us again? +We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of God’s +sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are face +to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink? For me, I say, no; +but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair places, his +song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You others are +young. Some have seen sorrow; but there are fair days yet in store. What +say you?” + +Whilst he was speaking, Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared, oh so +much, that the appalling nature of our danger was overcoming him when I +saw his hand stretch out; but it was life to me to feel its touch--so +strong, so self-reliant, so resolute. A brave man’s hand can speak for +itself; it does not even need a woman’s love to hear its music. + +When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my eyes, and I +in his; there was no need for speaking between us. + +“I answer for Mina and myself,” he said. + +“Count me in, Professor,” said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconically as usual. + +“I am with you,” said Lord Godalming, “for Lucy’s sake, if for no other +reason.” + +Dr. Seward simply nodded. The Professor stood up and, after laying his +golden crucifix on the table, held out his hand on either side. I took +his right hand, and Lord Godalming his left; Jonathan held my right with +his left and stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took hands our +solemn compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it did not even +occur to me to draw back. We resumed our places, and Dr. Van Helsing +went on with a sort of cheerfulness which showed that the serious work +had begun. It was to be taken as gravely, and in as businesslike a way, +as any other transaction of life:-- + +“Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are not +without strength. We have on our side power of combination--a power +denied to the vampire kind; we have sources of science; we are free to +act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours equally. +In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, and we are +free to use them. We have self-devotion in a cause, and an end to +achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much. + +“Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us are +restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us consider the +limitations of the vampire in general, and of this one in particular. + +“All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions. These do not +at the first appear much, when the matter is one of life and death--nay +of more than either life or death. Yet must we be satisfied; in the +first place because we have to be--no other means is at our control--and +secondly, because, after all, these things--tradition and +superstition--are everything. Does not the belief in vampires rest for +others--though not, alas! for us--on them? A year ago which of us would +have received such a possibility, in the midst of our scientific, +sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We even scouted a belief +that we saw justified under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the +vampire, and the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest for the +moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is known everywhere +that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome; he flourish in Germany +all over, in France, in India, even in the Chernosese; and in China, so +far from us in all ways, there even is he, and the peoples fear him at +this day. He have follow the wake of the berserker Icelander, the +devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon, the Magyar. So far, then, we +have all we may act upon; and let me tell you that very much of the +beliefs are justified by what we have seen in our own so unhappy +experience. The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of the +time; he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood of the +living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he can even grow +younger; that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem as though +they refresh themselves when his special pabulum is plenty. But he +cannot flourish without this diet; he eat not as others. Even friend +Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him to eat, never! +He throws no shadow; he make in the mirror no reflect, as again +Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his hand--witness again +Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him +from the diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather +from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as +bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John +saw him fly from this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at +the window of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create--that noble +ship’s captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance +he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He +come on moonlight rays as elemental dust--as again Jonathan saw those +sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small--we ourselves saw +Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the +tomb door. He can, when once he find his way, come out from anything or +into anything, no matter how close it be bound or even fused up with +fire--solder you call it. He can see in the dark--no small power this, +in a world which is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me +through. He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay; he is even +more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in his cell. +He cannot go where he lists; he who is not of nature has yet to obey +some of nature’s laws--why we know not. He may not enter anywhere at the +first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come; +though afterwards he can come as he please. His power ceases, as does +that of all evil things, at the coming of the day. Only at certain times +can he have limited freedom. If he be not at the place whither he is +bound, he can only change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. +These things are we told, and in this record of ours we have proof by +inference. Thus, whereas he can do as he will within his limit, when he +have his earth-home, his coffin-home, his hell-home, the place +unhallowed, as we saw when he went to the grave of the suicide at +Whitby; still at other time he can only change when the time come. It is +said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or the flood +of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict him that he has no +power, as the garlic that we know of; and as for things sacred, as this +symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst us even now when we resolve, to +them he is nothing, but in their presence he take his place far off and +silent with respect. There are others, too, which I shall tell you of, +lest in our seeking we may need them. The branch of wild rose on his +coffin keep him that he move not from it; a sacred bullet fired into the +coffin kill him so that he be true dead; and as for the stake through +him, we know already of its peace; or the cut-off head that giveth rest. +We have seen it with our eyes. + +“Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we can confine +him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we know. But he is +clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to +make his record; and, from all the means that are, he tell me of what he +has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his +name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of +Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common man; for in that time, +and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most +cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the ‘land beyond the +forest.’ That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his +grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says +Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who +were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They +learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake +Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the +records are such words as ‘stregoica’--witch, ‘ordog,’ and +‘pokol’--Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is +spoken of as ‘wampyr,’ which we all understand too well. There have been +from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and their +graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can dwell. For it +is not the least of its terrors that this evil thing is rooted deep in +all good; in soil barren of holy memories it cannot rest.” + +Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at the window, +and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room. There was a little +pause, and then the Professor went on:-- + +“And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data, and we must +proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the inquiry of Jonathan +that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which +were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some of these boxes +have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step should be to +ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall +where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the +latter, we must trace----” + +Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the house came +the sound of a pistol-shot; the glass of the window was shattered with a +bullet, which, ricochetting from the top of the embrasure, struck the +far wall of the room. I am afraid I am at heart a coward, for I shrieked +out. The men all jumped to their feet; Lord Godalming flew over to the +window and threw up the sash. As he did so we heard Mr. Morris’s voice +without:-- + +“Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you about +it.” A minute later he came in and said:-- + +“It was an idiotic thing of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs. +Harker, most sincerely; I fear I must have frightened you terribly. But +the fact is that whilst the Professor was talking there came a big bat +and sat on the window-sill. I have got such a horror of the damned +brutes from recent events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to +have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings, whenever I have +seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art.” + +“Did you hit it?” asked Dr. Van Helsing. + +“I don’t know; I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood.” Without +saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume his +statement:-- + +“We must trace each of these boxes; and when we are ready, we must +either capture or kill this monster in his lair; or we must, so to +speak, sterilise the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in it. +Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the hours of +noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his most weak. + +“And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be well. +You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we part to-night, you +no more must question. We shall tell you all in good time. We are men +and are able to bear; but you must be our star and our hope, and we +shall act all the more free that you are not in the danger, such as we +are.” + +All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved; but it did not seem to me +good that they should brave danger and, perhaps, lessen their +safety--strength being the best safety--through care of me; but their +minds were made up, and, though it was a bitter pill for me to swallow, +I could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me. + +Mr. Morris resumed the discussion:-- + +“As there is no time to lose, I vote we have a look at his house right +now. Time is everything with him; and swift action on our part may save +another victim.” + +I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action came so +close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater fear that if I +appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work, they might even leave +me out of their counsels altogether. They have now gone off to Carfax, +with means to get into the house. + +Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep; as if a woman can +sleep when those she loves are in danger! I shall lie down and pretend +to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety about me when he returns. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_1 October, 4 a. m._--Just as we were about to leave the house, an +urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see +him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me. +I told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the +morning; I was busy just at the moment. The attendant added:-- + +“He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him so eager. I don’t +know but what, if you don’t see him soon, he will have one of his +violent fits.” I knew the man would not have said this without some +cause, so I said: “All right; I’ll go now”; and I asked the others to +wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my “patient.” + +“Take me with you, friend John,” said the Professor. “His case in your +diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on _our_ +case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is +disturbed.” + +“May I come also?” asked Lord Godalming. + +“Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said Harker. I nodded, and +we all went down the passage together. + +We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more +rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There was an +unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I had ever +met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his reasons would +prevail with others entirely sane. We all four went into the room, but +none of the others at first said anything. His request was that I would +at once release him from the asylum and send him home. This he backed up +with arguments regarding his complete recovery, and adduced his own +existing sanity. “I appeal to your friends,” he said, “they will, +perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way, you have +not introduced me.” I was so much astonished, that the oddness of +introducing a madman in an asylum did not strike me at the moment; and, +besides, there was a certain dignity in the man’s manner, so much of +the habit of equality, that I at once made the introduction: “Lord +Godalming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of Texas; Mr. +Renfield.” He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn:-- + +“Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the +Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no +more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and in his +youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much +patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your great +state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which may have +far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may hold +alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a +vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true +place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at +meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of +conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised therapeutics +by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-matter, +conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to +one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity, or by +the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective +places in the moving world, I take to witness that I am as sane as at +least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties. +And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as +well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to +be considered as under exceptional circumstances.” He made this last +appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own +charm. + +I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the +conviction, despite my knowledge of the man’s character and history, +that his reason had been restored; and I felt under a strong impulse to +tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about the +necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought it +better to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of old +I knew the sudden changes to which this particular patient was liable. +So I contented myself with making a general statement that he appeared +to be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer chat with him +in the morning, and would then see what I could do in the direction of +meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy him, for he said +quickly:-- + +“But I fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to +go at once--here--now--this very hour--this very moment, if I may. Time +presses, and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman it is of +the essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to put +before so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet so +momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment.” He looked at me keenly, and +seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others, and scrutinised +them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response, he went on:-- + +“Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?” + +“You have,” I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally. +There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:-- + +“Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask for +this concession--boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to implore +in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of others. I +am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons; but you may, I +assure you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and +unselfish, and spring from the highest sense of duty. Could you look, +sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full the sentiments which +animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst the best and truest of +your friends.” Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing +conviction that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was +but yet another form or phase of his madness, and so determined to let +him go on a little longer, knowing from experience that he would, like +all lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at +him with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting +with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone +which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it +afterwards--for it was as of one addressing an equal:-- + +“Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free +to-night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy even me--a stranger, +without prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind--Dr. +Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own responsibility, the +privilege you seek.” He shook his head sadly, and with a look of +poignant regret on his face. The Professor went on:-- + +“Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in the +highest degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete +reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to doubt, since +you are not yet released from medical treatment for this very defect. If +you will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest course, how can +we perform the duty which you yourself put upon us? Be wise, and help +us; and if we can we shall aid you to achieve your wish.” He still shook +his head as he said:-- + +“Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is complete, and +if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not my +own master in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am +refused, the responsibility does not rest with me.” I thought it was now +time to end the scene, which was becoming too comically grave, so I went +towards the door, simply saying:-- + +“Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night.” + +As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the patient. He +moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared that he was +about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however, were +groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made his +petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his +emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old +relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van Helsing, +and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes; so I became a little more +fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him that his +efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of the same +constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some request of +which at the time he had thought much, such, for instance, as when he +wanted a cat; and I was prepared to see the collapse into the same +sullen acquiescence on this occasion. My expectation was not realised, +for, when he found that his appeal would not be successful, he got into +quite a frantic condition. He threw himself on his knees, and held up +his hands, wringing them in plaintive supplication, and poured forth a +torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, and his +whole face and form expressive of the deepest emotion:-- + +“Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me out +of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you will; +send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me in a +strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let me go +out of this. You don’t know what you do by keeping me here. I am +speaking from the depths of my heart--of my very soul. You don’t know +whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not tell. +By all you hold sacred--by all you hold dear--by your love that is +lost--by your hope that lives--for the sake of the Almighty, take me out +of this and save my soul from guilt! Can’t you hear me, man? Can’t you +understand? Will you never learn? Don’t you know that I am sane and +earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man fighting +for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let me go!” + +I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get, and so +would bring on a fit; so I took him by the hand and raised him up. + +“Come,” I said sternly, “no more of this; we have had quite enough +already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly.” + +He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments. Then, +without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of the +bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasion, just as I had +expected. + +When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a +quiet, well-bred voice:-- + +“You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later +on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL + + +_1 October, 5 a. m._--I went with the party to the search with an easy +mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well. I am +so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the work. +Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful business at +all; but now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy and +brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such a way +that every point tells, she may well feel that her part is finished, and +that she can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, I think, all a +little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we came away from his +room we were silent till we got back to the study. Then Mr. Morris said +to Dr. Seward:-- + +“Say, Jack, if that man wasn’t attempting a bluff, he is about the +sanest lunatic I ever saw. I’m not sure, but I believe that he had some +serious purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him not to get a +chance.” Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added:-- + +“Friend John, you know more of lunatics than I do, and I’m glad of it, +for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would before that last +hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live and learn, and in +our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincey would say. +All is best as they are.” Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a +dreamy kind of way:-- + +“I don’t know but that I agree with you. If that man had been an +ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him; but he +seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that I am +afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can’t forget how +he prayed with almost equal fervour for a cat, and then tried to tear my +throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count ‘lord and +master,’ and he may want to get out to help him in some diabolical way. +That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and his own kind to help +him, so I suppose he isn’t above trying to use a respectable lunatic. He +certainly did seem earnest, though. I only hope we have done what is +best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we have in hand, +help to unnerve a man.” The Professor stepped over, and laying his hand +on his shoulder, said in his grave, kindly way:-- + +“Friend John, have no fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very sad +and terrible case; we can only do as we deem best. What else have we to +hope for, except the pity of the good God?” Lord Godalming had slipped +away for a few minutes, but now he returned. He held up a little silver +whistle, as he remarked:-- + +“That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I’ve got an antidote on +call.” Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking care +to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the moonlight shone +out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened his bag and took out +a lot of things, which he laid on the step, sorting them into four +little groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke:-- + +“My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms of +many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that he has the +strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or our windpipes are +of the common kind--and therefore breakable or crushable--his are not +amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or a body of men more strong +in all than him, can at certain times hold him; but they cannot hurt him +as we can be hurt by him. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his +touch. Keep this near your heart”--as he spoke he lifted a little silver +crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to him--“put these +flowers round your neck”--here he handed to me a wreath of withered +garlic blossoms--“for other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this +knife; and for aid in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can +fasten to your breast; and for all, and above all at the last, this, +which we must not desecrate needless.” This was a portion of Sacred +Wafer, which he put in an envelope and handed to me. Each of the others +was similarly equipped. “Now,” he said, “friend John, where are the +skeleton keys? If so that we can open the door, we need not break house +by the window, as before at Miss Lucy’s.” + +Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical dexterity as a +surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got one to suit; after +a little play back and forward the bolt yielded, and, with a rusty +clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges creaked, and +it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image conveyed to me in +Dr. Seward’s diary of the opening of Miss Westenra’s tomb; I fancy that +the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they +shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and stepped +into the open door. + +“_In manus tuas, Domine!_” he said, crossing himself as he passed over +the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have +lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The +Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open it +from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our +lamps and proceeded on our search. + +The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the +rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great +shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there +was some one else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so +powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that terrible +experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common to us all, +for I noticed that the others kept looking over their shoulders at every +sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing. + +The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches +deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding down +my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked. The +walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were masses of +spider’s webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they looked like old +tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down. On a table in the +hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed label on each. They +had been used several times, for on the table were several similar rents +in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the Professor +lifted them. He turned to me and said:-- + +“You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of it, and you know +it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?” I had an +idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able to +get admission to it; so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings +found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. +“This is the spot,” said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small +map of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence +regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we found the key on the +bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some unpleasantness, for +as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale +through the gaps, but none of us ever expected such an odour as we +encountered. None of the others had met the Count at all at close +quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of +his existence in his rooms or, when he was gloated with fresh blood, in +a ruined building open to the air; but here the place was small and +close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant and foul. There was +an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, which came through the fouler +air. But as to the odour itself, how shall I describe it? It was not +alone that it was composed of all the ills of mortality and with the +pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it seemed as though corruption had +become itself corrupt. Faugh! it sickens me to think of it. Every breath +exhaled by that monster seemed to have clung to the place and +intensified its loathsomeness. + +Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our +enterprise to an end; but this was no ordinary case, and the high and +terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength which rose +above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary shrinking +consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set about our +work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses. + +We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as we +began:-- + +“The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left; we must then +examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we cannot get some +clue as to what has become of the rest.” A glance was sufficient to show +how many remained, for the great earth chests were bulky, and there was +no mistaking them. + +There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a fright, +for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the vaulted +door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an instant my +heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, I seemed to +see the high lights of the Count’s evil face, the ridge of the nose, the +red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, +as Lord Godalming said, “I thought I saw a face, but it was only the +shadows,” and resumed his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the direction, +and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of any one; and as there +were no corners, no doors, no aperture of any kind, but only the solid +walls of the passage, there could be no hiding-place even for _him_. I +took it that fear had helped imagination, and said nothing. + +A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner, which +he was examining. We all followed his movements with our eyes, for +undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole mass +of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all instinctively drew +back. The whole place was becoming alive with rats. + +For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming, who was +seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the great +iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, +and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew the +huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little silver +whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was answered +from behind Dr. Seward’s house by the yelping of dogs, and after about a +minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of the house. +Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and as we moved I +noticed that the dust had been much disturbed: the boxes which had been +taken out had been brought this way. But even in the minute that had +elapsed the number of the rats had vastly increased. They seemed to +swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, shining on their +moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look +like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but at the +threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then, simultaneously lifting +their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion. The rats were +multiplying in thousands, and we moved out. + +Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed him +on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to +recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They fled before +him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a score, the other +dogs, who had by now been lifted in the same manner, had but small prey +ere the whole mass had vanished. + +With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for +the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at +their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in +the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. +Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening of +the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding ourselves +in the open I know not; but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to +slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost something +of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a whit in our +resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and locked it, and +bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the house. We found +nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary proportions, and all +untouched save for my own footsteps when I had made my first visit. +Never once did the dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when +we returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had been +rabbit-hunting in a summer wood. + +The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. +Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall-door from the bunch, and +locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into his pocket +when he had done. + +“So far,” he said, “our night has been eminently successful. No harm has +come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained how +many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our +first--and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous--step has been +accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina or +troubling her waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds and +smells of horror which she might never forget. One lesson, too, we have +learned, if it be allowable to argue _a particulari_: that the brute +beasts which are to the Count’s command are yet themselves not amenable +to his spiritual power; for look, these rats that would come to his +call, just as from his castle top he summon the wolves to your going and +to that poor mother’s cry, though they come to him, they run pell-mell +from the so little dogs of my friend Arthur. We have other matters +before us, other dangers, other fears; and that monster--he has not used +his power over the brute world for the only or the last time to-night. +So be it that he has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity +to cry ‘check’ in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the +stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close at hand, +and we have reason to be content with our first night’s work. It may be +ordained that we have many nights and days to follow, if full of peril; +but we must go on, and from no danger shall we shrink.” + +The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who +was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning sound +from Renfield’s room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself, +after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain. + +I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so +softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than +usual. I hope the meeting to-night has not upset her. I am truly +thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our +deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not +think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is +settled. There may be things which would frighten her to hear; and yet +to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once she +suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our work is to be a +sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can tell her that all +is finished, and the earth free from a monster of the nether world. I +daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such +confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep +dark over to-night’s doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that +has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her. + + * * * * * + +_1 October, later._--I suppose it was natural that we should have all +overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had no +rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I slept +till the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call two or +three times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that for a +few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of +blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. She +complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till later in the +day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been removed, and if it be +that several were taken in any of these removals we may be able to trace +them all. Such will, of course, immensely simplify our labour, and the +sooner the matter is attended to the better. I shall look up Thomas +Snelling to-day. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_1 October._--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor +walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and it +is quite evident that last night’s work has helped to take some of the +brooding weight off his mind. After going over the adventure of the +night he suddenly said:-- + +“Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit him +this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it may +be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk philosophy, +and reason so sound.” I had some work to do which pressed, so I told him +that if he would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to +keep him waiting; so I called an attendant and gave him the necessary +instructions. Before the Professor left the room I cautioned him against +getting any false impression from my patient. “But,” he answered, “I +want him to talk of himself and of his delusion as to consuming live +things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your diary of yesterday, that +he had once had such a belief. Why do you smile, friend John?” + +“Excuse me,” I said, “but the answer is here.” I laid my hand on the +type-written matter. “When our sane and learned lunatic made that very +statement of how he _used_ to consume life, his mouth was actually +nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs. +Harker entered the room.” Van Helsing smiled in turn. “Good!” he said. +“Your memory is true, friend John. I should have remembered. And yet it +is this very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease +such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the +folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise. +Who knows?” I went on with my work, and before long was through that in +hand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there was +Van Helsing back in the study. “Do I interrupt?” he asked politely as he +stood at the door. + +“Not at all,” I answered. “Come in. My work is finished, and I am free. +I can go with you now, if you like. + +“It is needless; I have seen him!” + +“Well?” + +“I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was short. +When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in the centre, with +his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture of sullen +discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and with such a +measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply whatever. “Don’t +you know me?” I asked. His answer was not reassuring: “I know you well +enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself +and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed +Dutchmen!” Not a word more would he say, but sat in his implacable +sullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not been in the room at +all. Thus departed for this time my chance of much learning from this so +clever lunatic; so I shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few +happy words with that sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does +rejoice me unspeakable that she is no more to be pained, no more to be +worried with our terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it +is better so.” + +“I agree with you with all my heart,” I answered earnestly, for I did +not want him to weaken in this matter. “Mrs. Harker is better out of it. +Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who have +been in many tight places in our time; but it is no place for a woman, +and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in time +infallibly have wrecked her.” + +So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker; Quincey +and Art are all out following up the clues as to the earth-boxes. I +shall finish my round of work and we shall meet to-night. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_1 October._--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; +after Jonathan’s full confidence for so many years, to see him +manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This +morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though +Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went +out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of +what had happened in the visit to the Count’s house. And yet he must +have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it +must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that +it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and +I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am +crying like a silly fool, when I _know_ it comes from my husband’s great +love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men. + +That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and +lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept +anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has +feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my +heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and +low-spirited to-day. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible +excitement. + +Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because they told +me to. I didn’t feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring anxiety. I +kept thinking over everything that has been ever since Jonathan came to +see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate +pressing on relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does +seems, no matter how right it may be, to bring on the very thing which +is most to be deplored. If I hadn’t gone to Whitby, perhaps poor dear +Lucy would be with us now. She hadn’t taken to visiting the churchyard +till I came, and if she hadn’t come there in the day-time with me she +wouldn’t have walked there in her sleep; and if she hadn’t gone there at +night and asleep, that monster couldn’t have destroyed her as he did. +Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what +has come over me to-day. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew +that I had been crying twice in one morning--I, who never cried on my +own account, and whom he has never caused to shed a tear--the dear +fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a bold face on, and if I do +feel weepy, he shall never see it. I suppose it is one of the lessons +that we poor women have to learn.... + +I can’t quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember hearing +the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like praying +on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield’s room, which is somewhere +under this. And then there was silence over everything, silence so +profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out of the window. +All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight +seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be +stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate; so that a thin +streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness +across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a +vitality of its own. I think that the digression of my thoughts must +have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found a lethargy +creeping over me. I lay a while, but could not quite sleep, so I got out +and looked out of the window again. The mist was spreading, and was now +close up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick against the +wall, as though it were stealing up to the windows. The poor man was +more loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a word he said, +I could in some way recognise in his tones some passionate entreaty on +his part. Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the +attendants were dealing with him. I was so frightened that I crept into +bed, and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. +I was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought; but I must have +fallen asleep, for, except dreams, I do not remember anything until the +morning, when Jonathan woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a +little time to realise where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was +bending over me. My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of +the way that waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams. + +I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come back. I +was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act; my feet, and my +hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed at the +usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began to dawn +upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put back the +clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was dim +around. The gaslight which I had left lit for Jonathan, but turned down, +came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidently +grown thicker and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that I +had shut the window before I had come to bed. I would have got out to +make certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain my +limbs and even my will. I lay still and endured; that was all. I closed +my eyes, but could still see through my eyelids. (It is wonderful what +tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The +mist grew thicker and thicker and I could see now how it came in, for I +could see it like smoke--or with the white energy of boiling +water--pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of +the door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became +concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top +of which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eye. Things +began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now +whirling in the room, and through it all came the scriptural words “a +pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night.” Was it indeed some such +spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was +composed of both the day and the night-guiding, for the fire was in the +red eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for me; till, as I +looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog like +two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wandering +when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary’s +Church. Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan +had seen those awful women growing into reality through the whirling mist +in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became +black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was to +show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist. I must be +careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one’s reason if there were +too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe +something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm +them. Such a dream at the present time would become woven into their +fears for me. To-night I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If I do +not, I shall to-morrow night get them to give me a dose of chloral; that +cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a good night’s sleep. Last +night tired me more than if I had not slept at all. + + * * * * * + +_2 October 10 p. m._--Last night I slept, but did not dream. I must have +slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed; but the +sleep has not refreshed me, for to-day I feel terribly weak and +spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozing. +In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was +very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless +me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when I think of him. This +is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would be +miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the others were out till +dinner-time, and they all came in tired. I did what I could to brighten +them up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot how +tired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed, and all went off to smoke +together, as they said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each other +of what had occurred to each during the day; I could see from Jonathan’s +manner that he had something important to communicate. I was not so +sleepy as I should have been; so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to +give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night +before. He very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to +me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild.... I +have taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope +I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear +comes: that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the +power of waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL + + +_1 October, evening._--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal +Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anything. The +very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him had +proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected debauch. I +learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that he +was only the assistant to Smollet, who of the two mates was the +responsible person. So off I drove to Walworth, and found Mr. Joseph +Smollet at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a +saucer. He is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable +type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He remembered all +about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog’s-eared +notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about the +seat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, +half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxes. There +were, he said, six in the cartload which he took from Carfax and left at +197, Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he +deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then the Count meant to +scatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, these places were +chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more +fully. The systematic manner in which this was done made me think that +he could not mean to confine himself to two sides of London. He was now +fixed on the far east of the northern shore, on the east of the southern +shore, and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant to +be left out of his diabolical scheme--let alone the City itself and the +very heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west. I went back +to Smollet, and asked him if he could tell us if any other boxes had +been taken from Carfax. + +He replied:-- + +“Well, guv’nor, you’ve treated me wery ’an’some”--I had given him half a +sovereign--“an’ I’ll tell yer all I know. I heard a man by the name of +Bloxam say four nights ago in the ’Are an’ ’Ounds, in Pincher’s Alley, +as ’ow he an’ his mate ’ad ’ad a rare dusty job in a old ’ouse at +Purfect. There ain’t a-many such jobs as this ’ere, an’ I’m thinkin’ +that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut.” I asked if he could tell me +where to find him. I told him that if he could get me the address it +would be worth another half-sovereign to him. So he gulped down the rest +of his tea and stood up, saying that he was going to begin the search +then and there. At the door he stopped, and said:-- + +“Look ’ere, guv’nor, there ain’t no sense in me a-keepin’ you ’ere. I +may find Sam soon, or I mayn’t; but anyhow he ain’t like to be in a way +to tell ye much to-night. Sam is a rare one when he starts on the booze. +If you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer address on +it, I’ll find out where Sam is to be found and post it ye to-night. But +ye’d better be up arter ’im soon in the mornin’, or maybe ye won’t ketch +’im; for Sam gets off main early, never mind the booze the night afore.” + +This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny to +buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change. When she +came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when Smollet had +again faithfully promised to post the address when found, I took my way +to home. We’re on the track anyhow. I am tired to-night, and want sleep. +Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little too pale; her eyes look as +though she had been crying. Poor dear, I’ve no doubt it frets her to be +kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly anxious about me and the +others. But it is best as it is. It is better to be disappointed and +worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken. The doctors +were quite right to insist on her being kept out of this dreadful +business. I must be firm, for on me this particular burden of silence +must rest. I shall not ever enter on the subject with her under any +circumstances. Indeed, it may not be a hard task, after all, for she +herself has become reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the +Count or his doings ever since we told her of our decision. + + * * * * * + +_2 October, evening._--A long and trying and exciting day. By the first +post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, on +which was written with a carpenter’s pencil in a sprawling hand:-- + +“Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4, Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for +the depite.” + +I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She looked heavy +and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to wake her, +but that, when I should return from this new search, I would arrange for +her going back to Exeter. I think she would be happier in our own home, +with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here amongst us and +in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told him where I +was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest so soon as I should +have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and found, with some +difficulty, Potter’s Court. Mr. Smollet’s spelling misled me, as I asked +for Poter’s Court instead of Potter’s Court. However, when I had found +the court, I had no difficulty in discovering Corcoran’s lodging-house. +When I asked the man who came to the door for the “depite,” he shook his +head, and said: “I dunno ’im. There ain’t no such a person ’ere; I never +’eard of ’im in all my bloomin’ days. Don’t believe there ain’t nobody +of that kind livin’ ere or anywheres.” I took out Smollet’s letter, and +as I read it it seemed to me that the lesson of the spelling of the name +of the court might guide me. “What are you?” I asked. + +“I’m the depity,” he answered. I saw at once that I was on the right +track; phonetic spelling had again misled me. A half-crown tip put the +deputy’s knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam, who +had slept off the remains of his beer on the previous night at +Corcoran’s, had left for his work at Poplar at five o’clock that +morning. He could not tell me where the place of work was situated, but +he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a “new-fangled ware’us”; +and with this slender clue I had to start for Poplar. It was twelve +o’clock before I got any satisfactory hint of such a building, and this +I got at a coffee-shop, where some workmen were having their dinner. One +of these suggested that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street a +new “cold storage” building; and as this suited the condition of a +“new-fangled ware’us,” I at once drove to it. An interview with a surly +gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the +coin of the realm, put me on the track of Bloxam; he was sent for on my +suggesting that I was willing to pay his day’s wages to his foreman for +the privilege of asking him a few questions on a private matter. He was +a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I had +promised to pay for his information and given him an earnest, he told me +that he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in Piccadilly, +and had taken from this house to the latter nine great boxes--“main +heavy ones”--with a horse and cart hired by him for this purpose. I +asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly, to +which he replied:-- + +“Well, guv’nor, I forgits the number, but it was only a few doors from a +big white church or somethink of the kind, not long built. It was a +dusty old ’ouse, too, though nothin’ to the dustiness of the ’ouse we +tooked the bloomin’ boxes from.” + +“How did you get into the houses if they were both empty?” + +“There was the old party what engaged me a-waitin’ in the ’ouse at +Purfleet. He ’elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse +me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an’ him a old feller, +with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn’t throw +a shadder.” + +How this phrase thrilled through me! + +“Why, ’e took up ’is end o’ the boxes like they was pounds of tea, and +me a-puffin’ an’ a-blowin’ afore I could up-end mine anyhow--an’ I’m no +chicken, neither.” + +“How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?” I asked. + +“He was there too. He must ’a’ started off and got there afore me, for +when I rung of the bell he kem an’ opened the door ’isself an’ ’elped me +to carry the boxes into the ’all.” + +“The whole nine?” I asked. + +“Yus; there was five in the first load an’ four in the second. It was +main dry work, an’ I don’t so well remember ’ow I got ’ome.” I +interrupted him:-- + +“Were the boxes left in the hall?” + +“Yus; it was a big ’all, an’ there was nothin’ else in it.” I made one +more attempt to further matters:-- + +“You didn’t have any key?” + +“Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the door ’isself +an’ shut it again when I druv off. I don’t remember the last time--but +that was the beer.” + +“And you can’t remember the number of the house?” + +“No, sir. But ye needn’t have no difficulty about that. It’s a ’igh ’un +with a stone front with a bow on it, an’ ’igh steps up to the door. I +know them steps, ’avin’ ’ad to carry the boxes up with three loafers +what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them shillin’s, an’ +they seein’ they got so much, they wanted more; but ’e took one of them +by the shoulder and was like to throw ’im down the steps, till the lot +of them went away cussin’.” I thought that with this description I could +find the house, so, having paid my friend for his information, I started +off for Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience; the Count +could, it was evident, handle the earth-boxes himself. If so, time was +precious; for, now that he had achieved a certain amount of +distribution, he could, by choosing his own time, complete the task +unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I discharged my cab, and walked +westward; beyond the Junior Constitutional I came across the house +described, and was satisfied that this was the next of the lairs +arranged by Dracula. The house looked as though it had been long +untenanted. The windows were encrusted with dust, and the shutters were +up. All the framework was black with time, and from the iron the paint +had mostly scaled away. It was evident that up to lately there had been +a large notice-board in front of the balcony; it had, however, been +roughly torn away, the uprights which had supported it still remaining. +Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose boards, +whose raw edges looked white. I would have given a good deal to have +been able to see the notice-board intact, as it would, perhaps, have +given some clue to the ownership of the house. I remembered my +experience of the investigation and purchase of Carfax, and I could not +but feel that if I could find the former owner there might be some means +discovered of gaining access to the house. + +There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side, and +nothing could be done; so I went round to the back to see if anything +could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active, the +Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two of the +grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me anything +about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it had lately been +taken, but he couldn’t say from whom. He told me, however, that up to +very lately there had been a notice-board of “For Sale” up, and that +perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy, the house agents, could tell me +something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name of that firm on +the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to let my informant know +or guess too much, so, thanking him in the usual manner, I strolled +away. It was now growing dusk, and the autumn night was closing in, so I +did not lose any time. Having learned the address of Mitchell, Sons, & +Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I was soon at their office in +Sackville Street. + +The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but +uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the +Piccadilly house--which throughout our interview he called a +“mansion”--was sold, he considered my business as concluded. When I +asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and +paused a few seconds before replying:-- + +“It is sold, sir.” + +“Pardon me,” I said, with equal politeness, “but I have a special reason +for wishing to know who purchased it.” + +Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. “It is sold, +sir,” was again his laconic reply. + +“Surely,” I said, “you do not mind letting me know so much.” + +“But I do mind,” he answered. “The affairs of their clients are +absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy.” This was +manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing with +him. I thought I had best meet him on his own ground, so I said:-- + +“Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a guardian of their +confidence. I am myself a professional man.” Here I handed him my card. +“In this instance I am not prompted by curiosity; I act on the part of +Lord Godalming, who wishes to know something of the property which was, +he understood, lately for sale.” These words put a different complexion +on affairs. He said:-- + +“I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and especially would +I like to oblige his lordship. We once carried out a small matter of +renting some chambers for him when he was the Honourable Arthur +Holmwood. If you will let me have his lordship’s address I will consult +the House on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with his +lordship by to-night’s post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far +deviate from our rules as to give the required information to his +lordship.” + +I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I thanked him, +gave the address at Dr. Seward’s and came away. It was now dark, and I +was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aërated Bread Company +and came down to Purfleet by the next train. + +I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale, but she +made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful, it wrung my heart to +think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused her +inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking on at +our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our +confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of +keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled; or +else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for when +any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad we +made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this, our growing +knowledge would be torture to her. + +I could not tell the others of the day’s discovery till we were alone; +so after dinner--followed by a little music to save appearances even +amongst ourselves--I took Mina to her room and left her to go to bed. +The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me +as though she would detain me; but there was much to be talked of and I +came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no +difference between us. + +When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire in +the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and simply read +it off to them as the best means of letting them get abreast of my own +information; when I had finished Van Helsing said:-- + +“This has been a great day’s work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on +the track of the missing boxes. If we find them all in that house, then +our work is near the end. But if there be some missing, we must search +until we find them. Then shall we make our final _coup_, and hunt the +wretch to his real death.” We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. +Morris spoke:-- + +“Say! how are we going to get into that house?” + +“We got into the other,” answered Lord Godalming quickly. + +“But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had night +and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different thing to +commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I confess I don’t +see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck can find us a key +of some sort; perhaps we shall know when you get his letter in the +morning.” Lord Godalming’s brows contracted, and he stood up and walked +about the room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to +another of us:-- + +“Quincey’s head is level. This burglary business is getting serious; we +got off once all right; but we have now a rare job on hand--unless we +can find the Count’s key basket.” + +As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at +least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from Mitchell’s, +we decided not to take any active step before breakfast time. For a good +while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in its various lights and +bearings; I took the opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the +moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to bed.... + +Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her +forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks even +in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so haggard as she +did this morning. To-morrow will, I hope, mend all this; she will be +herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy! + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_1 October._--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His moods change so +rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they +always mean something more than his own well-being, they form a more +than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see him after his +repulse of Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding destiny. +He was, in fact, commanding destiny--subjectively. He did not really +care for any of the things of mere earth; he was in the clouds and +looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor mortals. I +thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked +him:-- + +“What about the flies these times?” He smiled on me in quite a superior +sort of way--such a smile as would have become the face of Malvolio--as +he answered me:-- + +“The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature; its wings are typical +of the aërial powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients did well +when they typified the soul as a butterfly!” + +I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said +quickly:-- + +“Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?” His madness foiled his +reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face as, shaking his head +with a decision which I had but seldom seen in him, he said:-- + +“Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want.” Here he brightened +up; “I am pretty indifferent about it at present. Life is all right; I +have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor, if you wish to +study zoöphagy!” + +This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on:-- + +“Then you command life; you are a god, I suppose?” He smiled with an +ineffably benign superiority. + +“Oh no! Far be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the +Deity. I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual doings. If I +may state my intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things +purely terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch occupied +spiritually!” This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall +Enoch’s appositeness; so I had to ask a simple question, though I felt +that by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic:-- + +“And why with Enoch?” + +“Because he walked with God.” I could not see the analogy, but did not +like to admit it; so I harked back to what he had denied:-- + +“So you don’t care about life and you don’t want souls. Why not?” I put +my question quickly and somewhat sternly, on purpose to disconcert him. +The effort succeeded; for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into his +old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon me as +he replied:-- + +“I don’t want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don’t. I couldn’t use them if +I had them; they would be no manner of use to me. I couldn’t eat them +or----” He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his +face, like a wind-sweep on the surface of the water. “And doctor, as to +life, what is it after all? When you’ve got all you require, and you +know that you will never want, that is all. I have friends--good +friends--like you, Dr. Seward”; this was said with a leer of +inexpressible cunning. “I know that I shall never lack the means of +life!” + +I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some +antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of such as +he--a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the present it +was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came away. + +Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come +without special reason, but just at present I am so interested in him +that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to have anything +to help to pass the time. Harker is out, following up clues; and so are +Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my study poring over the +record prepared by the Harkers; he seems to think that by accurate +knowledge of all details he will light upon some clue. He does not wish +to be disturbed in the work, without cause. I would have taken him with +me to see the patient, only I thought that after his last repulse he +might not care to go again. There was also another reason: Renfield +might not speak so freely before a third person as when he and I were +alone. + +I found him sitting out in the middle of the floor on his stool, a pose +which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his part. When I +came in, he said at once, as though the question had been waiting on his +lips:-- + +“What about souls?” It was evident then that my surmise had been +correct. Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the +lunatic. I determined to have the matter out. “What about them +yourself?” I asked. He did not reply for a moment but looked all round +him, and up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for +an answer. + +“I don’t want any souls!” he said in a feeble, apologetic way. The +matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it--to “be +cruel only to be kind.” So I said:-- + +“You like life, and you want life?” + +“Oh yes! but that is all right; you needn’t worry about that!” + +“But,” I asked, “how are we to get the life without getting the soul +also?” This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up:-- + +“A nice time you’ll have some time when you’re flying out there, with +the souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing +and twittering and miauing all round you. You’ve got their lives, you +know, and you must put up with their souls!” Something seemed to affect +his imagination, for he put his fingers to his ears and shut his eyes, +screwing them up tightly just as a small boy does when his face is being +soaped. There was something pathetic in it that touched me; it also gave +me a lesson, for it seemed that before me was a child--only a child, +though the features were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was white. It +was evident that he was undergoing some process of mental disturbance, +and, knowing how his past moods had interpreted things seemingly foreign +to himself, I thought I would enter into his mind as well as I could and +go with him. The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him, +speaking pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed ears:-- + +“Would you like some sugar to get your flies round again?” He seemed to +wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a laugh he replied:-- + +“Not much! flies are poor things, after all!” After a pause he added, +“But I don’t want their souls buzzing round me, all the same.” + +“Or spiders?” I went on. + +“Blow spiders! What’s the use of spiders? There isn’t anything in them +to eat or”--he stopped suddenly, as though reminded of a forbidden +topic. + +“So, so!” I thought to myself, “this is the second time he has suddenly +stopped at the word ‘drink’; what does it mean?” Renfield seemed himself +aware of having made a lapse, for he hurried on, as though to distract +my attention from it:-- + +“I don’t take any stock at all in such matters. ‘Rats and mice and such +small deer,’ as Shakespeare has it, ‘chicken-feed of the larder’ they +might be called. I’m past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well +ask a man to eat molecules with a pair of chop-sticks, as to try to +interest me about the lesser carnivora, when I know of what is before +me.” + +“I see,” I said. “You want big things that you can make your teeth meet +in? How would you like to breakfast on elephant?” + +“What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!” He was getting too wide +awake, so I thought I would press him hard. “I wonder,” I said +reflectively, “what an elephant’s soul is like!” + +The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his +high-horse and became a child again. + +“I don’t want an elephant’s soul, or any soul at all!” he said. For a +few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his feet, with +his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement. “To +hell with you and your souls!” he shouted. “Why do you plague me about +souls? Haven’t I got enough to worry, and pain, and distract me already, +without thinking of souls!” He looked so hostile that I thought he was +in for another homicidal fit, so I blew my whistle. The instant, +however, that I did so he became calm, and said apologetically:-- + +“Forgive me, Doctor; I forgot myself. You do not need any help. I am so +worried in my mind that I am apt to be irritable. If you only knew the +problem I have to face, and that I am working out, you would pity, and +tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not put me in a strait-waistcoat. I +want to think and I cannot think freely when my body is confined. I am +sure you will understand!” He had evidently self-control; so when the +attendants came I told them not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield +watched them go; when the door was closed he said, with considerable +dignity and sweetness:-- + +“Dr. Seward, you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me that +I am very, very grateful to you!” I thought it well to leave him in this +mood, and so I came away. There is certainly something to ponder over in +this man’s state. Several points seem to make what the American +interviewer calls “a story,” if one could only get them in proper order. +Here they are:-- + +Will not mention “drinking.” + +Fears the thought of being burdened with the “soul” of anything. + +Has no dread of wanting “life” in the future. + +Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads being +haunted by their souls. + +Logically all these things point one way! he has assurance of some kind +that he will acquire some higher life. He dreads the consequence--the +burden of a soul. Then it is a human life he looks to! + +And the assurance--? + +Merciful God! the Count has been to him, and there is some new scheme of +terror afoot! + + * * * * * + +_Later._--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told him my +suspicion. He grew very grave; and, after thinking the matter over for a +while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so. As we came to the door +we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as he used to do in the time +which now seems so long ago. When we entered we saw with amazement that +he had spread out his sugar as of old; the flies, lethargic with the +autumn, were beginning to buzz into the room. We tried to make him talk +of the subject of our previous conversation, but he would not attend. He +went on with his singing, just as though we had not been present. He had +got a scrap of paper and was folding it into a note-book. We had to come +away as ignorant as we went in. + +His is a curious case indeed; we must watch him to-night. + + +_Letter, Mitchell, Sons and Candy to Lord Godalming._ + +_“1 October._ + +“My Lord, + +“We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg, with +regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by Mr. Harker on your +behalf, to supply the following information concerning the sale and +purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The original vendors are the executors +of the late Mr. Archibald Winter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign +nobleman, Count de Ville, who effected the purchase himself paying the +purchase money in notes ‘over the counter,’ if your Lordship will pardon +us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this we know nothing whatever +of him. + +“We are, my Lord, + +“Your Lordship’s humble servants, + +“MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_2 October._--I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told him to +make an accurate note of any sound he might hear from Renfield’s room, +and gave him instructions that if there should be anything strange he +was to call me. After dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire +in the study--Mrs. Harker having gone to bed--we discussed the attempts +and discoveries of the day. Harker was the only one who had any result, +and we are in great hopes that his clue may be an important one. + +Before going to bed I went round to the patient’s room and looked in +through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, and his heart +rose and fell with regular respiration. + +This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little after midnight +he was restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat loudly. I asked him +if that was all; he replied that it was all he heard. There was +something about his manner so suspicious that I asked him point blank if +he had been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted to having “dozed” for +a while. It is too bad that men cannot be trusted unless they are +watched. + +To-day Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and Quincey are +looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will be well to have +horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which we +seek there will be no time to lose. We must sterilise all the imported +earth between sunrise and sunset; we shall thus catch the Count at his +weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the +British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient medicine. The old +physicians took account of things which their followers do not accept, +and the Professor is searching for witch and demon cures which may be +useful to us later. + +I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in +strait-waistcoats. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and our +work of to-morrow may be the beginning of the end. I wonder if +Renfield’s quiet has anything to do with this. His moods have so +followed the doings of the Count, that the coming destruction of the +monster may be carried to him in some subtle way. If we could only get +some hint as to what passed in his mind, between the time of my argument +with him to-day and his resumption of fly-catching, it might afford us a +valuable clue. He is now seemingly quiet for a spell.... Is he?---- That +wild yell seemed to come from his room.... + + * * * * * + +The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had +somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell; and when he went +to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with blood. +I must go at once.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_3 October._--Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well +as I can remember it, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that I +can recall must be forgotten; in all calmness I must proceed. + +When I came to Renfield’s room I found him lying on the floor on his +left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I went to move him, it +became at once apparent that he had received some terrible injuries; +there seemed none of that unity of purpose between the parts of the body +which marks even lethargic sanity. As the face was exposed I could see +that it was horribly bruised, as though it had been beaten against the +floor--indeed it was from the face wounds that the pool of blood +originated. The attendant who was kneeling beside the body said to me as +we turned him over:-- + +“I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both his right arm and leg and +the whole side of his face are paralysed.” How such a thing could have +happened puzzled the attendant beyond measure. He seemed quite +bewildered, and his brows were gathered in as he said:-- + +“I can’t understand the two things. He could mark his face like that by +beating his own head on the floor. I saw a young woman do it once at the +Eversfield Asylum before anyone could lay hands on her. And I suppose he +might have broke his neck by falling out of bed, if he got in an awkward +kink. But for the life of me I can’t imagine how the two things +occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn’t beat his head; and if his +face was like that before the fall out of bed, there would be marks of +it.” I said to him:-- + +“Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly come here at once. I want +him without an instant’s delay.” The man ran off, and within a few +minutes the Professor, in his dressing gown and slippers, appeared. When +he saw Renfield on the ground, he looked keenly at him a moment, and +then turned to me. I think he recognised my thought in my eyes, for he +said very quietly, manifestly for the ears of the attendant:-- + +“Ah, a sad accident! He will need very careful watching, and much +attention. I shall stay with you myself; but I shall first dress myself. +If you will remain I shall in a few minutes join you.” + +The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was easy to see that +he had suffered some terrible injury. Van Helsing returned with +extraordinary celerity, bearing with him a surgical case. He had +evidently been thinking and had his mind made up; for, almost before he +looked at the patient, he whispered to me:-- + +“Send the attendant away. We must be alone with him when he becomes +conscious, after the operation.” So I said:-- + +“I think that will do now, Simmons. We have done all that we can at +present. You had better go your round, and Dr. Van Helsing will operate. +Let me know instantly if there be anything unusual anywhere.” + +The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the patient. +The wounds of the face was superficial; the real injury was a depressed +fracture of the skull, extending right up through the motor area. The +Professor thought a moment and said:-- + +“We must reduce the pressure and get back to normal conditions, as far +as can be; the rapidity of the suffusion shows the terrible nature of +his injury. The whole motor area seems affected. The suffusion of the +brain will increase quickly, so we must trephine at once or it may be +too late.” As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door. I +went over and opened it and found in the corridor without, Arthur and +Quincey in pajamas and slippers: the former spoke:-- + +“I heard your man call up Dr. Van Helsing and tell him of an accident. +So I woke Quincey or rather called for him as he was not asleep. Things +are moving too quickly and too strangely for sound sleep for any of us +these times. I’ve been thinking that to-morrow night will not see things +as they have been. We’ll have to look back--and forward a little more +than we have done. May we come in?” I nodded, and held the door open +till they had entered; then I closed it again. When Quincey saw the +attitude and state of the patient, and noted the horrible pool on the +floor, he said softly:-- + +“My God! what has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!” I told him +briefly, and added that we expected he would recover consciousness after +the operation--for a short time, at all events. He went at once and sat +down on the edge of the bed, with Godalming beside him; we all watched +in patience. + +“We shall wait,” said Van Helsing, “just long enough to fix the best +spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and perfectly remove +the blood clot; for it is evident that the hæmorrhage is increasing.” + +The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful slowness. I had a +horrible sinking in my heart, and from Van Helsing’s face I gathered +that he felt some fear or apprehension as to what was to come. I dreaded +the words that Renfield might speak. I was positively afraid to think; +but the conviction of what was coming was on me, as I have read of men +who have heard the death-watch. The poor man’s breathing came in +uncertain gasps. Each instant he seemed as though he would open his eyes +and speak; but then would follow a prolonged stertorous breath, and he +would relapse into a more fixed insensibility. Inured as I was to sick +beds and death, this suspense grew, and grew upon me. I could almost +hear the beating of my own heart; and the blood surging through my +temples sounded like blows from a hammer. The silence finally became +agonising. I looked at my companions, one after another, and saw from +their flushed faces and damp brows that they were enduring equal +torture. There was a nervous suspense over us all, as though overhead +some dread bell would peal out powerfully when we should least expect +it. + +At last there came a time when it was evident that the patient was +sinking fast; he might die at any moment. I looked up at the Professor +and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His face was sternly set as he +spoke:-- + +“There is no time to lose. His words may be worth many lives; I have +been thinking so, as I stood here. It may be there is a soul at stake! +We shall operate just above the ear.” + +Without another word he made the operation. For a few moments the +breathing continued to be stertorous. Then there came a breath so +prolonged that it seemed as though it would tear open his chest. +Suddenly his eyes opened, and became fixed in a wild, helpless stare. +This was continued for a few moments; then it softened into a glad +surprise, and from the lips came a sigh of relief. He moved +convulsively, and as he did so, said:-- + +“I’ll be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait-waistcoat. I +have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so weak that I cannot +move. What’s wrong with my face? it feels all swollen, and it smarts +dreadfully.” He tried to turn his head; but even with the effort his +eyes seemed to grow glassy again so I gently put it back. Then Van +Helsing said in a quiet grave tone:-- + +“Tell us your dream, Mr. Renfield.” As he heard the voice his face +brightened, through its mutilation, and he said:-- + +“That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it is of you to be here. Give me some +water, my lips are dry; and I shall try to tell you. I dreamed”--he +stopped and seemed fainting, I called quietly to Quincey--“The +brandy--it is in my study--quick!” He flew and returned with a glass, +the decanter of brandy and a carafe of water. We moistened the parched +lips, and the patient quickly revived. It seemed, however, that his poor +injured brain had been working in the interval, for, when he was quite +conscious, he looked at me piercingly with an agonised confusion which I +shall never forget, and said:-- + +“I must not deceive myself; it was no dream, but all a grim reality.” +Then his eyes roved round the room; as they caught sight of the two +figures sitting patiently on the edge of the bed he went on:-- + +“If I were not sure already, I would know from them.” For an instant his +eyes closed--not with pain or sleep but voluntarily, as though he were +bringing all his faculties to bear; when he opened them he said, +hurriedly, and with more energy than he had yet displayed:-- + +“Quick, Doctor, quick. I am dying! I feel that I have but a few minutes; +and then I must go back to death--or worse! Wet my lips with brandy +again. I have something that I must say before I die; or before my poor +crushed brain dies anyhow. Thank you! It was that night after you left +me, when I implored you to let me go away. I couldn’t speak then, for I +felt my tongue was tied; but I was as sane then, except in that way, as +I am now. I was in an agony of despair for a long time after you left +me; it seemed hours. Then there came a sudden peace to me. My brain +seemed to become cool again, and I realised where I was. I heard the +dogs bark behind our house, but not where He was!” As he spoke, Van +Helsing’s eyes never blinked, but his hand came out and met mine and +gripped it hard. He did not, however, betray himself; he nodded slightly +and said: “Go on,” in a low voice. Renfield proceeded:-- + +“He came up to the window in the mist, as I had seen him often before; +but he was solid then--not a ghost, and his eyes were fierce like a +man’s when angry. He was laughing with his red mouth; the sharp white +teeth glinted in the moonlight when he turned to look back over the belt +of trees, to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn’t ask him to come in +at first, though I knew he wanted to--just as he had wanted all along. +Then he began promising me things--not in words but by doing them.” He +was interrupted by a word from the Professor:-- + +“How?” + +“By making them happen; just as he used to send in the flies when the +sun was shining. Great big fat ones with steel and sapphire on their +wings; and big moths, in the night, with skull and cross-bones on their +backs.” Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me unconsciously:-- + +“The _Acherontia Aitetropos of the Sphinges_--what you call the +‘Death’s-head Moth’?” The patient went on without stopping. + +“Then he began to whisper: ‘Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands, +millions of them, and every one a life; and dogs to eat them, and cats +too. All lives! all red blood, with years of life in it; and not merely +buzzing flies!’ I laughed at him, for I wanted to see what he could do. +Then the dogs howled, away beyond the dark trees in His house. He +beckoned me to the window. I got up and looked out, and He raised his +hands, and seemed to call out without using any words. A dark mass +spread over the grass, coming on like the shape of a flame of fire; and +then He moved the mist to the right and left, and I could see that there +were thousands of rats with their eyes blazing red--like His, only +smaller. He held up his hand, and they all stopped; and I thought he +seemed to be saying: ‘All these lives will I give you, ay, and many more +and greater, through countless ages, if you will fall down and worship +me!’ And then a red cloud, like the colour of blood, seemed to close +over my eyes; and before I knew what I was doing, I found myself opening +the sash and saying to Him: ‘Come in, Lord and Master!’ The rats were +all gone, but He slid into the room through the sash, though it was only +open an inch wide--just as the Moon herself has often come in through +the tiniest crack and has stood before me in all her size and +splendour.” + +His voice was weaker, so I moistened his lips with the brandy again, and +he continued; but it seemed as though his memory had gone on working in +the interval for his story was further advanced. I was about to call him +back to the point, but Van Helsing whispered to me: “Let him go on. Do +not interrupt him; he cannot go back, and maybe could not proceed at all +if once he lost the thread of his thought.” He proceeded:-- + +“All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send me anything, not +even a blow-fly, and when the moon got up I was pretty angry with him. +When he slid in through the window, though it was shut, and did not even +knock, I got mad with him. He sneered at me, and his white face looked +out of the mist with his red eyes gleaming, and he went on as though he +owned the whole place, and I was no one. He didn’t even smell the same +as he went by me. I couldn’t hold him. I thought that, somehow, Mrs. +Harker had come into the room.” + +The two men sitting on the bed stood up and came over, standing behind +him so that he could not see them, but where they could hear better. +They were both silent, but the Professor started and quivered; his face, +however, grew grimmer and sterner still. Renfield went on without +noticing:-- + +“When Mrs. Harker came in to see me this afternoon she wasn’t the same; +it was like tea after the teapot had been watered.” Here we all moved, +but no one said a word; he went on:-- + +“I didn’t know that she was here till she spoke; and she didn’t look the +same. I don’t care for the pale people; I like them with lots of blood +in them, and hers had all seemed to have run out. I didn’t think of it +at the time; but when she went away I began to think, and it made me mad +to know that He had been taking the life out of her.” I could feel that +the rest quivered, as I did, but we remained otherwise still. “So when +He came to-night I was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I +grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have unnatural strength; and +as I knew I was a madman--at times anyhow--I resolved to use my power. +Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come out of the mist to struggle +with me. I held tight; and I thought I was going to win, for I didn’t +mean Him to take any more of her life, till I saw His eyes. They burned +into me, and my strength became like water. He slipped through it, and +when I tried to cling to Him, He raised me up and flung me down. There +was a red cloud before me, and a noise like thunder, and the mist seemed +to steal away under the door.” His voice was becoming fainter and his +breath more stertorous. Van Helsing stood up instinctively. + +“We know the worst now,” he said. “He is here, and we know his purpose. +It may not be too late. Let us be armed--the same as we were the other +night, but lose no time; there is not an instant to spare.” There was no +need to put our fear, nay our conviction, into words--we shared them in +common. We all hurried and took from our rooms the same things that we +had when we entered the Count’s house. The Professor had his ready, and +as we met in the corridor he pointed to them significantly as he said:-- + +“They never leave me; and they shall not till this unhappy business is +over. Be wise also, my friends. It is no common enemy that we deal with. +Alas! alas! that that dear Madam Mina should suffer!” He stopped; his +voice was breaking, and I do not know if rage or terror predominated in +my own heart. + +Outside the Harkers’ door we paused. Art and Quincey held back, and the +latter said:-- + +“Should we disturb her?” + +“We must,” said Van Helsing grimly. “If the door be locked, I shall +break it in.” + +“May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break into a lady’s +room!” + +Van Helsing said solemnly, “You are always right; but this is life and +death. All chambers are alike to the doctor; and even were they not they +are all as one to me to-night. Friend John, when I turn the handle, if +the door does not open, do you put your shoulder down and shove; and you +too, my friends. Now!” + +He turned the handle as he spoke, but the door did not yield. We threw +ourselves against it; with a crash it burst open, and we almost fell +headlong into the room. The Professor did actually fall, and I saw +across him as he gathered himself up from hands and knees. What I saw +appalled me. I felt my hair rise like bristles on the back of my neck, +and my heart seemed to stand still. + +The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow blind the room +was light enough to see. On the bed beside the window lay Jonathan +Harker, his face flushed and breathing heavily as though in a stupor. +Kneeling on the near edge of the bed facing outwards was the white-clad +figure of his wife. By her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in black. +His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw we all recognised +the Count--in every way, even to the scar on his forehead. With his left +hand he held both Mrs. Harker’s hands, keeping them away with her arms +at full tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, +forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared +with blood, and a thin stream trickled down the man’s bare breast which +was shown by his torn-open dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible +resemblance to a child forcing a kitten’s nose into a saucer of milk to +compel it to drink. As we burst into the room, the Count turned his +face, and the hellish look that I had heard described seemed to leap +into it. His eyes flamed red with devilish passion; the great nostrils +of the white aquiline nose opened wide and quivered at the edge; and the +white sharp teeth, behind the full lips of the blood-dripping mouth, +champed together like those of a wild beast. With a wrench, which threw +his victim back upon the bed as though hurled from a height, he turned +and sprang at us. But by this time the Professor had gained his feet, +and was holding towards him the envelope which contained the Sacred +Wafer. The Count suddenly stopped, just as poor Lucy had done outside +the tomb, and cowered back. Further and further back he cowered, as we, +lifting our crucifixes, advanced. The moonlight suddenly failed, as a +great black cloud sailed across the sky; and when the gaslight sprang up +under Quincey’s match, we saw nothing but a faint vapour. This, as we +looked, trailed under the door, which with the recoil from its bursting +open, had swung back to its old position. Van Helsing, Art, and I moved +forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with +it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it +seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day. For a +few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and disarray. Her face was +ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by the blood which smeared +her lips and cheeks and chin; from her throat trickled a thin stream of +blood; her eyes were mad with terror. Then she put before her face her +poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the +Count’s terrible grip, and from behind them came a low desolate wail +which made the terrible scream seem only the quick expression of an +endless grief. Van Helsing stepped forward and drew the coverlet gently +over her body, whilst Art, after looking at her face for an instant +despairingly, ran out of the room. Van Helsing whispered to me:-- + +“Jonathan is in a stupor such as we know the Vampire can produce. We can +do nothing with poor Madam Mina for a few moments till she recovers +herself; I must wake him!” He dipped the end of a towel in cold water +and with it began to flick him on the face, his wife all the while +holding her face between her hands and sobbing in a way that was +heart-breaking to hear. I raised the blind, and looked out of the +window. There was much moonshine; and as I looked I could see Quincey +Morris run across the lawn and hide himself in the shadow of a great +yew-tree. It puzzled me to think why he was doing this; but at the +instant I heard Harker’s quick exclamation as he woke to partial +consciousness, and turned to the bed. On his face, as there might well +be, was a look of wild amazement. He seemed dazed for a few seconds, and +then full consciousness seemed to burst upon him all at once, and he +started up. His wife was aroused by the quick movement, and turned to +him with her arms stretched out, as though to embrace him; instantly, +however, she drew them in again, and putting her elbows together, held +her hands before her face, and shuddered till the bed beneath her shook. + +“In God’s name what does this mean?” Harker cried out. “Dr. Seward, Dr. +Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? What is wrong? Mina, dear, +what is it? What does that blood mean? My God, my God! has it come to +this!” and, raising himself to his knees, he beat his hands wildly +together. “Good God help us! help her! oh, help her!” With a quick +movement he jumped from bed, and began to pull on his clothes,--all the +man in him awake at the need for instant exertion. “What has happened? +Tell me all about it!” he cried without pausing. “Dr. Van Helsing, you +love Mina, I know. Oh, do something to save her. It cannot have gone too +far yet. Guard her while I look for _him_!” His wife, through her terror +and horror and distress, saw some sure danger to him: instantly +forgetting her own grief, she seized hold of him and cried out:-- + +“No! no! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suffered enough +to-night, God knows, without the dread of his harming you. You must stay +with me. Stay with these friends who will watch over you!” Her +expression became frantic as she spoke; and, he yielding to her, she +pulled him down sitting on the bed side, and clung to him fiercely. + +Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Professor held up his +little golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness:-- + +“Do not fear, my dear. We are here; and whilst this is close to you no +foul thing can approach. You are safe for to-night; and we must be calm +and take counsel together.” She shuddered and was silent, holding down +her head on her husband’s breast. When she raised it, his white +night-robe was stained with blood where her lips had touched, and where +the thin open wound in her neck had sent forth drops. The instant she +saw it she drew back, with a low wail, and whispered, amidst choking +sobs:-- + +“Unclean, unclean! I must touch him or kiss him no more. Oh, that it +should be that it is I who am now his worst enemy, and whom he may have +most cause to fear.” To this he spoke out resolutely:-- + +“Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me to hear such a word. I would not +hear it of you; and I shall not hear it from you. May God judge me by my +deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, +if by any act or will of mine anything ever come between us!” He put out +his arms and folded her to his breast; and for a while she lay there +sobbing. He looked at us over her bowed head, with eyes that blinked +damply above his quivering nostrils; his mouth was set as steel. After a +while her sobs became less frequent and more faint, and then he said to +me, speaking with a studied calmness which I felt tried his nervous +power to the utmost:-- + +“And now, Dr. Seward, tell me all about it. Too well I know the broad +fact; tell me all that has been.” I told him exactly what had happened, +and he listened with seeming impassiveness; but his nostrils twitched +and his eyes blazed as I told how the ruthless hands of the Count had +held his wife in that terrible and horrid position, with her mouth to +the open wound in his breast. It interested me, even at that moment, to +see, that, whilst the face of white set passion worked convulsively over +the bowed head, the hands tenderly and lovingly stroked the ruffled +hair. Just as I had finished, Quincey and Godalming knocked at the door. +They entered in obedience to our summons. Van Helsing looked at me +questioningly. I understood him to mean if we were to take advantage of +their coming to divert if possible the thoughts of the unhappy husband +and wife from each other and from themselves; so on nodding acquiescence +to him he asked them what they had seen or done. To which Lord Godalming +answered:-- + +“I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any of our rooms. I +looked in the study but, though he had been there, he had gone. He had, +however----” He stopped suddenly, looking at the poor drooping figure on +the bed. Van Helsing said gravely:-- + +“Go on, friend Arthur. We want here no more concealments. Our hope now +is in knowing all. Tell freely!” So Art went on:-- + +“He had been there, and though it could only have been for a few +seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript had been +burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white ashes; the +cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax +had helped the flames.” Here I interrupted. “Thank God there is the +other copy in the safe!” His face lit for a moment, but fell again as he +went on: “I ran downstairs then, but could see no sign of him. I looked +into Renfield’s room; but there was no trace there except----!” Again he +paused. “Go on,” said Harker hoarsely; so he bowed his head and +moistening his lips with his tongue, added: “except that the poor fellow +is dead.” Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking from one to the other of +us she said solemnly:-- + +“God’s will be done!” I could not but feel that Art was keeping back +something; but, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing. +Van Helsing turned to Morris and asked:-- + +“And you, friend Quincey, have you any to tell?” + +“A little,” he answered. “It may be much eventually, but at present I +can’t say. I thought it well to know if possible where the Count would +go when he left the house. I did not see him; but I saw a bat rise from +Renfield’s window, and flap westward. I expected to see him in some +shape go back to Carfax; but he evidently sought some other lair. He +will not be back to-night; for the sky is reddening in the east, and the +dawn is close. We must work to-morrow!” + +He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a space of perhaps +a couple of minutes there was silence, and I could fancy that I could +hear the sound of our hearts beating; then Van Helsing said, placing his +hand very tenderly on Mrs. Harker’s head:-- + +“And now, Madam Mina--poor, dear, dear Madam Mina--tell us exactly what +happened. God knows that I do not want that you be pained; but it is +need that we know all. For now more than ever has all work to be done +quick and sharp, and in deadly earnest. The day is close to us that must +end all, if it may be so; and now is the chance that we may live and +learn.” + +The poor, dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension of her nerves +as she clasped her husband closer to her and bent her head lower and +lower still on his breast. Then she raised her head proudly, and held +out one hand to Van Helsing who took it in his, and, after stooping and +kissing it reverently, held it fast. The other hand was locked in that +of her husband, who held his other arm thrown round her protectingly. +After a pause in which she was evidently ordering her thoughts, she +began:-- + +“I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given me, but for a +long time it did not act. I seemed to become more wakeful, and myriads +of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon my mind--all of them +connected with death, and vampires; with blood, and pain, and trouble.” +Her husband involuntarily groaned as she turned to him and said +lovingly: “Do not fret, dear. You must be brave and strong, and help me +through the horrible task. If you only knew what an effort it is to me +to tell of this fearful thing at all, you would understand how much I +need your help. Well, I saw I must try to help the medicine to its work +with my will, if it was to do me any good, so I resolutely set myself to +sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come to me, for I remember no +more. Jonathan coming in had not waked me, for he lay by my side when +next I remember. There was in the room the same thin white mist that I +had before noticed. But I forget now if you know of this; you will find +it in my diary which I shall show you later. I felt the same vague +terror which had come to me before and the same sense of some presence. +I turned to wake Jonathan, but found that he slept so soundly that it +seemed as if it was he who had taken the sleeping draught, and not I. I +tried, but I could not wake him. This caused me a great fear, and I +looked around terrified. Then indeed, my heart sank within me: beside +the bed, as if he had stepped out of the mist--or rather as if the mist +had turned into his figure, for it had entirely disappeared--stood a +tall, thin man, all in black. I knew him at once from the description of +the others. The waxen face; the high aquiline nose, on which the light +fell in a thin white line; the parted red lips, with the sharp white +teeth showing between; and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in the +sunset on the windows of St. Mary’s Church at Whitby. I knew, too, the +red scar on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him. For an instant +my heart stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that I was +paralysed. In the pause he spoke in a sort of keen, cutting whisper, +pointing as he spoke to Jonathan:-- + +“‘Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his brains out +before your very eyes.’ I was appalled and was too bewildered to do or +say anything. With a mocking smile, he placed one hand upon my shoulder +and, holding me tight, bared my throat with the other, saying as he did +so, ‘First, a little refreshment to reward my exertions. You may as well +be quiet; it is not the first time, or the second, that your veins have +appeased my thirst!’ I was bewildered, and, strangely enough, I did not +want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the horrible curse that +such is, when his touch is on his victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity +me! He placed his reeking lips upon my throat!” Her husband groaned +again. She clasped his hand harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if +he were the injured one, and went on:-- + +“I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon. How long +this horrible thing lasted I know not; but it seemed that a long time +must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. I +saw it drip with the fresh blood!” The remembrance seemed for a while to +overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down but for her +husband’s sustaining arm. With a great effort she recovered herself and +went on:-- + +“Then he spoke to me mockingly, ‘And so you, like the others, would play +your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and +frustrate me in my designs! You know now, and they know in part already, +and will know in full before long, what it is to cross my path. They +should have kept their energies for use closer to home. Whilst they +played wits against me--against me who commanded nations, and intrigued +for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were +born--I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now +to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin; my bountiful +wine-press for a while; and shall be later on my companion and my +helper. You shall be avenged in turn; for not one of them but shall +minister to your needs. But as yet you are to be punished for what you +have done. You have aided in thwarting me; now you shall come to my +call. When my brain says “Come!” to you, you shall cross land or sea to +do my bidding; and to that end this!’ With that he pulled open his +shirt, and with his long sharp nails opened a vein in his breast. When +the blood began to spurt out, he took my hands in one of his, holding +them tight, and with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to +the wound, so that I must either suffocate or swallow some of the---- Oh +my God! my God! what have I done? What have I done to deserve such a +fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my +days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril; +and in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!” Then she began to rub her +lips as though to cleanse them from pollution. + +As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky began to quicken, +and everything became more and more clear. Harker was still and quiet; +but over his face, as the awful narrative went on, came a grey look +which deepened and deepened in the morning light, till when the first +red streak of the coming dawn shot up, the flesh stood darkly out +against the whitening hair. + +We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of the unhappy +pair till we can meet together and arrange about taking action. + +Of this I am sure: the sun rises to-day on no more miserable house in +all the great round of its daily course. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL + + +_3 October._--As I must do something or go mad, I write this diary. It +is now six o’clock, and we are to meet in the study in half an hour and +take something to eat; for Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward are agreed +that if we do not eat we cannot work our best. Our best will be, God +knows, required to-day. I must keep writing at every chance, for I dare +not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down; perhaps at the end +the little things may teach us most. The teaching, big or little, could +not have landed Mina or me anywhere worse than we are to-day. However, +we must trust and hope. Poor Mina told me just now, with the tears +running down her dear cheeks, that it is in trouble and trial that our +faith is tested--that we must keep on trusting; and that God will aid us +up to the end. The end! oh my God! what end?... To work! To work! + +When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back from seeing poor +Renfield, we went gravely into what was to be done. First, Dr. Seward +told us that when he and Dr. Van Helsing had gone down to the room below +they had found Renfield lying on the floor, all in a heap. His face was +all bruised and crushed in, and the bones of the neck were broken. + +Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the passage if he had +heard anything. He said that he had been sitting down--he confessed to +half dozing--when he heard loud voices in the room, and then Renfield +had called out loudly several times, “God! God! God!” after that there +was a sound of falling, and when he entered the room he found him lying +on the floor, face down, just as the doctors had seen him. Van Helsing +asked if he had heard “voices” or “a voice,” and he said he could not +say; that at first it had seemed to him as if there were two, but as +there was no one in the room it could have been only one. He could swear +to it, if required, that the word “God” was spoken by the patient. Dr. +Seward said to us, when we were alone, that he did not wish to go into +the matter; the question of an inquest had to be considered, and it +would never do to put forward the truth, as no one would believe it. As +it was, he thought that on the attendant’s evidence he could give a +certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed. In case the +coroner should demand it, there would be a formal inquest, necessarily +to the same result. + +When the question began to be discussed as to what should be our next +step, the very first thing we decided was that Mina should be in full +confidence; that nothing of any sort--no matter how painful--should be +kept from her. She herself agreed as to its wisdom, and it was pitiful +to see her so brave and yet so sorrowful, and in such a depth of +despair. “There must be no concealment,” she said, “Alas! we have had +too much already. And besides there is nothing in all the world that can +give me more pain than I have already endured--than I suffer now! +Whatever may happen, it must be of new hope or of new courage to me!” +Van Helsing was looking at her fixedly as she spoke, and said, suddenly +but quietly:-- + +“But dear Madam Mina, are you not afraid; not for yourself, but for +others from yourself, after what has happened?” Her face grew set in its +lines, but her eyes shone with the devotion of a martyr as she +answered:-- + +“Ah no! for my mind is made up!” + +“To what?” he asked gently, whilst we were all very still; for each in +our own way we had a sort of vague idea of what she meant. Her answer +came with direct simplicity, as though she were simply stating a fact:-- + +“Because if I find in myself--and I shall watch keenly for it--a sign of +harm to any that I love, I shall die!” + +“You would not kill yourself?” he asked, hoarsely. + +“I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me such a +pain, and so desperate an effort!” She looked at him meaningly as she +spoke. He was sitting down; but now he rose and came close to her and +put his hand on her head as he said solemnly: + +“My child, there is such an one if it were for your good. For myself I +could hold it in my account with God to find such an euthanasia for you, +even at this moment if it were best. Nay, were it safe! But my +child----” For a moment he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in his +throat; he gulped it down and went on:-- + +“There are here some who would stand between you and death. You must not +die. You must not die by any hand; but least of all by your own. Until +the other, who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not +die; for if he is still with the quick Un-Dead, your death would make +you even as he is. No, you must live! You must struggle and strive to +live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable. You must fight Death +himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy; by the day, or the +night; in safety or in peril! On your living soul I charge you that you +do not die--nay, nor think of death--till this great evil be past.” The +poor dear grew white as death, and shock and shivered, as I have seen a +quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of the tide. We were all +silent; we could do nothing. At length she grew more calm and turning to +him said, sweetly, but oh! so sorrowfully, as she held out her hand:-- + +“I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me live, I shall +strive to do so; till, if it may be in His good time, this horror may +have passed away from me.” She was so good and brave that we all felt +that our hearts were strengthened to work and endure for her, and we +began to discuss what we were to do. I told her that she was to have all +the papers in the safe, and all the papers or diaries and phonographs we +might hereafter use; and was to keep the record as she had done before. +She was pleased with the prospect of anything to do--if “pleased” could +be used in connection with so grim an interest. + +As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else, and was +prepared with an exact ordering of our work. + +“It is perhaps well,” he said, “that at our meeting after our visit to +Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earth-boxes that lay +there. Had we done so, the Count must have guessed our purpose, and +would doubtless have taken measures in advance to frustrate such an +effort with regard to the others; but now he does not know our +intentions. Nay, more, in all probability, he does not know that such a +power exists to us as can sterilise his lairs, so that he cannot use +them as of old. We are now so much further advanced in our knowledge as +to their disposition that, when we have examined the house in +Piccadilly, we may track the very last of them. To-day, then, is ours; +and in it rests our hope. The sun that rose on our sorrow this morning +guards us in its course. Until it sets to-night, that monster must +retain whatever form he now has. He is confined within the limitations +of his earthly envelope. He cannot melt into thin air nor disappear +through cracks or chinks or crannies. If he go through a doorway, he +must open the door like a mortal. And so we have this day to hunt out +all his lairs and sterilise them. So we shall, if we have not yet catch +him and destroy him, drive him to bay in some place where the catching +and the destroying shall be, in time, sure.” Here I started up for I +could not contain myself at the thought that the minutes and seconds so +preciously laden with Mina’s life and happiness were flying from us, +since whilst we talked action was impossible. But Van Helsing held up +his hand warningly. “Nay, friend Jonathan,” he said, “in this, the +quickest way home is the longest way, so your proverb say. We shall all +act and act with desperate quick, when the time has come. But think, in +all probable the key of the situation is in that house in Piccadilly. +The Count may have many houses which he has bought. Of them he will have +deeds of purchase, keys and other things. He will have paper that he +write on; he will have his book of cheques. There are many belongings +that he must have somewhere; why not in this place so central, so quiet, +where he come and go by the front or the back at all hour, when in the +very vast of the traffic there is none to notice. We shall go there and +search that house; and when we learn what it holds, then we do what our +friend Arthur call, in his phrases of hunt ‘stop the earths’ and so we +run down our old fox--so? is it not?” + +“Then let us come at once,” I cried, “we are wasting the precious, +precious time!” The Professor did not move, but simply said:-- + +“And how are we to get into that house in Piccadilly?” + +“Any way!” I cried. “We shall break in if need be.” + +“And your police; where will they be, and what will they say?” + +I was staggered; but I knew that if he wished to delay he had a good +reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could:-- + +“Don’t wait more than need be; you know, I am sure, what torture I am +in.” + +“Ah, my child, that I do; and indeed there is no wish of me to add to +your anguish. But just think, what can we do, until all the world be at +movement. Then will come our time. I have thought and thought, and it +seems to me that the simplest way is the best of all. Now we wish to get +into the house, but we have no key; is it not so?” I nodded. + +“Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that house, and could +not still get in; and think there was to you no conscience of the +housebreaker, what would you do?” + +“I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work to pick the +lock for me.” + +“And your police, they would interfere, would they not?” + +“Oh, no! not if they knew the man was properly employed.” + +“Then,” he looked at me as keenly as he spoke, “all that is in doubt is +the conscience of the employer, and the belief of your policemen as to +whether or no that employer has a good conscience or a bad one. Your +police must indeed be zealous men and clever--oh, so clever!--in reading +the heart, that they trouble themselves in such matter. No, no, my +friend Jonathan, you go take the lock off a hundred empty house in this +your London, or of any city in the world; and if you do it as such +things are rightly done, and at the time such things are rightly done, +no one will interfere. I have read of a gentleman who owned a so fine +house in London, and when he went for months of summer to Switzerland +and lock up his house, some burglar came and broke window at back and +got in. Then he went and made open the shutters in front and walk out +and in through the door, before the very eyes of the police. Then he +have an auction in that house, and advertise it, and put up big notice; +and when the day come he sell off by a great auctioneer all the goods of +that other man who own them. Then he go to a builder, and he sell him +that house, making an agreement that he pull it down and take all away +within a certain time. And your police and other authority help him all +they can. And when that owner come back from his holiday in Switzerland +he find only an empty hole where his house had been. This was all done +_en règle_; and in our work we shall be _en règle_ too. We shall not go +so early that the policemen who have then little to think of, shall deem +it strange; but we shall go after ten o’clock, when there are many +about, and such things would be done were we indeed owners of the +house.” + +I could not but see how right he was and the terrible despair of Mina’s +face became relaxed a thought; there was hope in such good counsel. Van +Helsing went on:-- + +“When once within that house we may find more clues; at any rate some of +us can remain there whilst the rest find the other places where there be +more earth-boxes--at Bermondsey and Mile End.” + +Lord Godalming stood up. “I can be of some use here,” he said. “I shall +wire to my people to have horses and carriages where they will be most +convenient.” + +“Look here, old fellow,” said Morris, “it is a capital idea to have all +ready in case we want to go horsebacking; but don’t you think that one +of your snappy carriages with its heraldic adornments in a byway of +Walworth or Mile End would attract too much attention for our purposes? +It seems to me that we ought to take cabs when we go south or east; and +even leave them somewhere near the neighbourhood we are going to.” + +“Friend Quincey is right!” said the Professor. “His head is what you +call in plane with the horizon. It is a difficult thing that we go to +do, and we do not want no peoples to watch us if so it may.” + +Mina took a growing interest in everything and I was rejoiced to see +that the exigency of affairs was helping her to forget for a time the +terrible experience of the night. She was very, very pale--almost +ghastly, and so thin that her lips were drawn away, showing her teeth in +somewhat of prominence. I did not mention this last, lest it should give +her needless pain; but it made my blood run cold in my veins to think of +what had occurred with poor Lucy when the Count had sucked her blood. As +yet there was no sign of the teeth growing sharper; but the time as yet +was short, and there was time for fear. + +When we came to the discussion of the sequence of our efforts and of the +disposition of our forces, there were new sources of doubt. It was +finally agreed that before starting for Piccadilly we should destroy the +Count’s lair close at hand. In case he should find it out too soon, we +should thus be still ahead of him in our work of destruction; and his +presence in his purely material shape, and at his weakest, might give us +some new clue. + +As to the disposal of forces, it was suggested by the Professor that, +after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter the house in Piccadilly; +that the two doctors and I should remain there, whilst Lord Godalming +and Quincey found the lairs at Walworth and Mile End and destroyed them. +It was possible, if not likely, the Professor urged, that the Count +might appear in Piccadilly during the day, and that if so we might be +able to cope with him then and there. At any rate, we might be able to +follow him in force. To this plan I strenuously objected, and so far as +my going was concerned, for I said that I intended to stay and protect +Mina, I thought that my mind was made up on the subject; but Mina would +not listen to my objection. She said that there might be some law matter +in which I could be useful; that amongst the Count’s papers might be +some clue which I could understand out of my experience in Transylvania; +and that, as it was, all the strength we could muster was required to +cope with the Count’s extraordinary power. I had to give in, for Mina’s +resolution was fixed; she said that it was the last hope for _her_ that +we should all work together. “As for me,” she said, “I have no fear. +Things have been as bad as they can be; and whatever may happen must +have in it some element of hope or comfort. Go, my husband! God can, if +He wishes it, guard me as well alone as with any one present.” So I +started up crying out: “Then in God’s name let us come at once, for we +are losing time. The Count may come to Piccadilly earlier than we +think.” + +“Not so!” said Van Helsing, holding up his hand. + +“But why?” I asked. + +“Do you forget,” he said, with actually a smile, “that last night he +banqueted heavily, and will sleep late?” + +Did I forget! shall I ever--can I ever! Can any of us ever forget that +terrible scene! Mina struggled hard to keep her brave countenance; but +the pain overmastered her and she put her hands before her face, and +shuddered whilst she moaned. Van Helsing had not intended to recall her +frightful experience. He had simply lost sight of her and her part in +the affair in his intellectual effort. When it struck him what he said, +he was horrified at his thoughtlessness and tried to comfort her. “Oh, +Madam Mina,” he said, “dear, dear Madam Mina, alas! that I of all who so +reverence you should have said anything so forgetful. These stupid old +lips of mine and this stupid old head do not deserve so; but you will +forget it, will you not?” He bent low beside her as he spoke; she took +his hand, and looking at him through her tears, said hoarsely:-- + +“No, I shall not forget, for it is well that I remember; and with it I +have so much in memory of you that is sweet, that I take it all +together. Now, you must all be going soon. Breakfast is ready, and we +must all eat that we may be strong.” + +Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. We tried to be cheerful and +encourage each other, and Mina was the brightest and most cheerful of +us. When it was over, Van Helsing stood up and said:-- + +“Now, my dear friends, we go forth to our terrible enterprise. Are we +all armed, as we were on that night when first we visited our enemy’s +lair; armed against ghostly as well as carnal attack?” We all assured +him. “Then it is well. Now, Madam Mina, you are in any case _quite_ safe +here until the sunset; and before then we shall return--if---- We shall +return! But before we go let me see you armed against personal attack. I +have myself, since you came down, prepared your chamber by the placing +of things of which we know, so that He may not enter. Now let me guard +yourself. On your forehead I touch this piece of Sacred Wafer in the +name of the Father, the Son, and----” + +There was a fearful scream which almost froze our hearts to hear. As he +had placed the Wafer on Mina’s forehead, it had seared it--had burned +into the flesh as though it had been a piece of white-hot metal. My poor +darling’s brain had told her the significance of the fact as quickly as +her nerves received the pain of it; and the two so overwhelmed her that +her overwrought nature had its voice in that dreadful scream. But the +words to her thought came quickly; the echo of the scream had not ceased +to ring on the air when there came the reaction, and she sank on her +knees on the floor in an agony of abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair +over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she wailed out:-- + +“Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must +bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgment Day.” They +all paused. I had thrown myself beside her in an agony of helpless +grief, and putting my arms around held her tight. For a few minutes our +sorrowful hearts beat together, whilst the friends around us turned away +their eyes that ran tears silently. Then Van Helsing turned and said +gravely; so gravely that I could not help feeling that he was in some +way inspired, and was stating things outside himself:-- + +“It may be that you may have to bear that mark till God himself see fit, +as He most surely shall, on the Judgment Day, to redress all wrongs of +the earth and of His children that He has placed thereon. And oh, Madam +Mina, my dear, my dear, may we who love you be there to see, when that +red scar, the sign of God’s knowledge of what has been, shall pass away, +and leave your forehead as pure as the heart we know. For so surely as +we live, that scar shall pass away when God sees right to lift the +burden that is hard upon us. Till then we bear our Cross, as His Son did +in obedience to His Will. It may be that we are chosen instruments of +His good pleasure, and that we ascend to His bidding as that other +through stripes and shame; through tears and blood; through doubts and +fears, and all that makes the difference between God and man.” + +There was hope in his words, and comfort; and they made for resignation. +Mina and I both felt so, and simultaneously we each took one of the old +man’s hands and bent over and kissed it. Then without a word we all +knelt down together, and, all holding hands, swore to be true to each +other. We men pledged ourselves to raise the veil of sorrow from the +head of her whom, each in his own way, we loved; and we prayed for help +and guidance in the terrible task which lay before us. + +It was then time to start. So I said farewell to Mina, a parting which +neither of us shall forget to our dying day; and we set out. + +To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a +vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible +land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant +many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so +the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks. + +We entered Carfax without trouble and found all things the same as on +the first occasion. It was hard to believe that amongst so prosaic +surroundings of neglect and dust and decay there was any ground for such +fear as already we knew. Had not our minds been made up, and had there +not been terrible memories to spur us on, we could hardly have proceeded +with our task. We found no papers, or any sign of use in the house; and +in the old chapel the great boxes looked just as we had seen them last. +Dr. Van Helsing said to us solemnly as we stood before them:-- + +“And now, my friends, we have a duty here to do. We must sterilise this +earth, so sacred of holy memories, that he has brought from a far +distant land for such fell use. He has chosen this earth because it has +been holy. Thus we defeat him with his own weapon, for we make it more +holy still. It was sanctified to such use of man, now we sanctify it to +God.” As he spoke he took from his bag a screwdriver and a wrench, and +very soon the top of one of the cases was thrown open. The earth smelled +musty and close; but we did not somehow seem to mind, for our attention +was concentrated on the Professor. Taking from his box a piece of the +Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on the earth, and then shutting down +the lid began to screw it home, we aiding him as he worked. + +One by one we treated in the same way each of the great boxes, and left +them as we had found them to all appearance; but in each was a portion +of the Host. + +When we closed the door behind us, the Professor said solemnly:-- + +“So much is already done. If it may be that with all the others we can +be so successful, then the sunset of this evening may shine on Madam +Mina’s forehead all white as ivory and with no stain!” + +As we passed across the lawn on our way to the station to catch our +train we could see the front of the asylum. I looked eagerly, and in the +window of my own room saw Mina. I waved my hand to her, and nodded to +tell that our work there was successfully accomplished. She nodded in +reply to show that she understood. The last I saw, she was waving her +hand in farewell. It was with a heavy heart that we sought the station +and just caught the train, which was steaming in as we reached the +platform. + +I have written this in the train. + + * * * * * + +_Piccadilly, 12:30 o’clock._--Just before we reached Fenchurch Street +Lord Godalming said to me:-- + +“Quincey and I will find a locksmith. You had better not come with us in +case there should be any difficulty; for under the circumstances it +wouldn’t seem so bad for us to break into an empty house. But you are a +solicitor and the Incorporated Law Society might tell you that you +should have known better.” I demurred as to my not sharing any danger +even of odium, but he went on: “Besides, it will attract less attention +if there are not too many of us. My title will make it all right with +the locksmith, and with any policeman that may come along. You had +better go with Jack and the Professor and stay in the Green Park, +somewhere in sight of the house; and when you see the door opened and +the smith has gone away, do you all come across. We shall be on the +lookout for you, and shall let you in.” + +“The advice is good!” said Van Helsing, so we said no more. Godalming +and Morris hurried off in a cab, we following in another. At the corner +of Arlington Street our contingent got out and strolled into the Green +Park. My heart beat as I saw the house on which so much of our hope was +centred, looming up grim and silent in its deserted condition amongst +its more lively and spruce-looking neighbours. We sat down on a bench +within good view, and began to smoke cigars so as to attract as little +attention as possible. The minutes seemed to pass with leaden feet as we +waited for the coming of the others. + +At length we saw a four-wheeler drive up. Out of it, in leisurely +fashion, got Lord Godalming and Morris; and down from the box descended +a thick-set working man with his rush-woven basket of tools. Morris paid +the cabman, who touched his hat and drove away. Together the two +ascended the steps, and Lord Godalming pointed out what he wanted done. +The workman took off his coat leisurely and hung it on one of the spikes +of the rail, saying something to a policeman who just then sauntered +along. The policeman nodded acquiescence, and the man kneeling down +placed his bag beside him. After searching through it, he took out a +selection of tools which he produced to lay beside him in orderly +fashion. Then he stood up, looked into the keyhole, blew into it, and +turning to his employers, made some remark. Lord Godalming smiled, and +the man lifted a good-sized bunch of keys; selecting one of them, he +began to probe the lock, as if feeling his way with it. After fumbling +about for a bit he tried a second, and then a third. All at once the +door opened under a slight push from him, and he and the two others +entered the hall. We sat still; my own cigar burnt furiously, but Van +Helsing’s went cold altogether. We waited patiently as we saw the +workman come out and bring in his bag. Then he held the door partly +open, steadying it with his knees, whilst he fitted a key to the lock. +This he finally handed to Lord Godalming, who took out his purse and +gave him something. The man touched his hat, took his bag, put on his +coat and departed; not a soul took the slightest notice of the whole +transaction. + +When the man had fairly gone, we three crossed the street and knocked at +the door. It was immediately opened by Quincey Morris, beside whom stood +Lord Godalming lighting a cigar. + +“The place smells so vilely,” said the latter as we came in. It did +indeed smell vilely--like the old chapel at Carfax--and with our +previous experience it was plain to us that the Count had been using the +place pretty freely. We moved to explore the house, all keeping together +in case of attack; for we knew we had a strong and wily enemy to deal +with, and as yet we did not know whether the Count might not be in the +house. In the dining-room, which lay at the back of the hall, we found +eight boxes of earth. Eight boxes only out of the nine, which we sought! +Our work was not over, and would never be until we should have found the +missing box. First we opened the shutters of the window which looked out +across a narrow stone-flagged yard at the blank face of a stable, +pointed to look like the front of a miniature house. There were no +windows in it, so we were not afraid of being over-looked. We did not +lose any time in examining the chests. With the tools which we had +brought with us we opened them, one by one, and treated them as we had +treated those others in the old chapel. It was evident to us that the +Count was not at present in the house, and we proceeded to search for +any of his effects. + +After a cursory glance at the rest of the rooms, from basement to attic, +we came to the conclusion that the dining-room contained any effects +which might belong to the Count; and so we proceeded to minutely examine +them. They lay in a sort of orderly disorder on the great dining-room +table. There were title deeds of the Piccadilly house in a great bundle; +deeds of the purchase of the houses at Mile End and Bermondsey; +note-paper, envelopes, and pens and ink. All were covered up in thin +wrapping paper to keep them from the dust. There were also a clothes +brush, a brush and comb, and a jug and basin--the latter containing +dirty water which was reddened as if with blood. Last of all was a +little heap of keys of all sorts and sizes, probably those belonging to +the other houses. When we had examined this last find, Lord Godalming +and Quincey Morris taking accurate notes of the various addresses of the +houses in the East and the South, took with them the keys in a great +bunch, and set out to destroy the boxes in these places. The rest of us +are, with what patience we can, waiting their return--or the coming of +the Count. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_3 October._--The time seemed terribly long whilst we were waiting for +the coming of Godalming and Quincey Morris. The Professor tried to keep +our minds active by using them all the time. I could see his beneficent +purpose, by the side glances which he threw from time to time at Harker. +The poor fellow is overwhelmed in a misery that is appalling to see. +Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with strong, youthful +face, full of energy, and with dark brown hair. To-day he is a drawn, +haggard old man, whose white hair matches well with the hollow burning +eyes and grief-written lines of his face. His energy is still intact; in +fact, he is like a living flame. This may yet be his salvation, for, if +all go well, it will tide him over the despairing period; he will then, +in a kind of way, wake again to the realities of life. Poor fellow, I +thought my own trouble was bad enough, but his----! The Professor knows +this well enough, and is doing his best to keep his mind active. What he +has been saying was, under the circumstances, of absorbing interest. So +well as I can remember, here it is:-- + +“I have studied, over and over again since they came into my hands, all +the papers relating to this monster; and the more I have studied, the +greater seems the necessity to utterly stamp him out. All through there +are signs of his advance; not only of his power, but of his knowledge of +it. As I learned from the researches of my friend Arminus of Buda-Pesth, +he was in life a most wonderful man. Soldier, statesman, and +alchemist--which latter was the highest development of the +science-knowledge of his time. He had a mighty brain, a learning beyond +compare, and a heart that knew no fear and no remorse. He dared even to +attend the Scholomance, and there was no branch of knowledge of his time +that he did not essay. Well, in him the brain powers survived the +physical death; though it would seem that memory was not all complete. +In some faculties of mind he has been, and is, only a child; but he is +growing, and some things that were childish at the first are now of +man’s stature. He is experimenting, and doing it well; and if it had not +been that we have crossed his path he would be yet--he may be yet if we +fail--the father or furtherer of a new order of beings, whose road must +lead through Death, not Life.” + +Harker groaned and said, “And this is all arrayed against my darling! +But how is he experimenting? The knowledge may help us to defeat him!” + +“He has all along, since his coming, been trying his power, slowly but +surely; that big child-brain of his is working. Well for us, it is, as +yet, a child-brain; for had he dared, at the first, to attempt certain +things he would long ago have been beyond our power. However, he means +to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford to wait +and to go slow. _Festina lente_ may well be his motto.” + +“I fail to understand,” said Harker wearily. “Oh, do be more plain to +me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain.” + +The Professor laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder as he spoke:-- + +“Ah, my child, I will be plain. Do you not see how, of late, this +monster has been creeping into knowledge experimentally. How he has been +making use of the zoöphagous patient to effect his entry into friend +John’s home; for your Vampire, though in all afterwards he can come when +and how he will, must at the first make entry only when asked thereto by +an inmate. But these are not his most important experiments. Do we not +see how at the first all these so great boxes were moved by others. He +knew not then but that must be so. But all the time that so great +child-brain of his was growing, and he began to consider whether he +might not himself move the box. So he began to help; and then, when he +found that this be all-right, he try to move them all alone. And so he +progress, and he scatter these graves of him; and none but he know where +they are hidden. He may have intend to bury them deep in the ground. So +that he only use them in the night, or at such time as he can change his +form, they do him equal well; and none may know these are his +hiding-place! But, my child, do not despair; this knowledge come to him +just too late! Already all of his lairs but one be sterilise as for him; +and before the sunset this shall be so. Then he have no place where he +can move and hide. I delayed this morning that so we might be sure. Is +there not more at stake for us than for him? Then why we not be even +more careful than him? By my clock it is one hour and already, if all be +well, friend Arthur and Quincey are on their way to us. To-day is our +day, and we must go sure, if slow, and lose no chance. See! there are +five of us when those absent ones return.” + +Whilst he was speaking we were startled by a knock at the hall door, the +double postman’s knock of the telegraph boy. We all moved out to the +hall with one impulse, and Van Helsing, holding up his hand to us to +keep silence, stepped to the door and opened it. The boy handed in a +despatch. The Professor closed the door again, and, after looking at the +direction, opened it and read aloud. + +“Look out for D. He has just now, 12:45, come from Carfax hurriedly and +hastened towards the South. He seems to be going the round and may want +to see you: Mina.” + +There was a pause, broken by Jonathan Harker’s voice:-- + +“Now, God be thanked, we shall soon meet!” Van Helsing turned to him +quickly and said:-- + +“God will act in His own way and time. Do not fear, and do not rejoice +as yet; for what we wish for at the moment may be our undoings.” + +“I care for nothing now,” he answered hotly, “except to wipe out this +brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!” + +“Oh, hush, hush, my child!” said Van Helsing. “God does not purchase +souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he may purchase, does not keep +faith. But God is merciful and just, and knows your pain and your +devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain would be +doubled, did she but hear your wild words. Do not fear any of us, we are +all devoted to this cause, and to-day shall see the end. The time is +coming for action; to-day this Vampire is limit to the powers of man, +and till sunset he may not change. It will take him time to arrive +here--see, it is twenty minutes past one--and there are yet some times +before he can hither come, be he never so quick. What we must hope for +is that my Lord Arthur and Quincey arrive first.” + +About half an hour after we had received Mrs. Harker’s telegram, there +came a quiet, resolute knock at the hall door. It was just an ordinary +knock, such as is given hourly by thousands of gentlemen, but it made +the Professor’s heart and mine beat loudly. We looked at each other, and +together moved out into the hall; we each held ready to use our various +armaments--the spiritual in the left hand, the mortal in the right. Van +Helsing pulled back the latch, and, holding the door half open, stood +back, having both hands ready for action. The gladness of our hearts +must have shown upon our faces when on the step, close to the door, we +saw Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris. They came quickly in and closed +the door behind them, the former saying, as they moved along the +hall:-- + +“It is all right. We found both places; six boxes in each and we +destroyed them all!” + +“Destroyed?” asked the Professor. + +“For him!” We were silent for a minute, and then Quincey said:-- + +“There’s nothing to do but to wait here. If, however, he doesn’t turn up +by five o’clock, we must start off; for it won’t do to leave Mrs. Harker +alone after sunset.” + +“He will be here before long now,” said Van Helsing, who had been +consulting his pocket-book. “_Nota bene_, in Madam’s telegram he went +south from Carfax, that means he went to cross the river, and he could +only do so at slack of tide, which should be something before one +o’clock. That he went south has a meaning for us. He is as yet only +suspicious; and he went from Carfax first to the place where he would +suspect interference least. You must have been at Bermondsey only a +short time before him. That he is not here already shows that he went to +Mile End next. This took him some time; for he would then have to be +carried over the river in some way. Believe me, my friends, we shall not +have long to wait now. We should have ready some plan of attack, so that +we may throw away no chance. Hush, there is no time now. Have all your +arms! Be ready!” He held up a warning hand as he spoke, for we all could +hear a key softly inserted in the lock of the hall door. + +I could not but admire, even at such a moment, the way in which a +dominant spirit asserted itself. In all our hunting parties and +adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey Morris had always +been the one to arrange the plan of action, and Arthur and I had been +accustomed to obey him implicitly. Now, the old habit seemed to be +renewed instinctively. With a swift glance around the room, he at once +laid out our plan of attack, and, without speaking a word, with a +gesture, placed us each in position. Van Helsing, Harker, and I were +just behind the door, so that when it was opened the Professor could +guard it whilst we two stepped between the incomer and the door. +Godalming behind and Quincey in front stood just out of sight ready to +move in front of the window. We waited in a suspense that made the +seconds pass with nightmare slowness. The slow, careful steps came along +the hall; the Count was evidently prepared for some surprise--at least +he feared it. + +Suddenly with a single bound he leaped into the room, winning a way past +us before any of us could raise a hand to stay him. There was something +so panther-like in the movement--something so unhuman, that it seemed +to sober us all from the shock of his coming. The first to act was +Harker, who, with a quick movement, threw himself before the door +leading into the room in the front of the house. As the Count saw us, a +horrible sort of snarl passed over his face, showing the eye-teeth long +and pointed; but the evil smile as quickly passed into a cold stare of +lion-like disdain. His expression again changed as, with a single +impulse, we all advanced upon him. It was a pity that we had not some +better organised plan of attack, for even at the moment I wondered what +we were to do. I did not myself know whether our lethal weapons would +avail us anything. Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had +ready his great Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him. The +blow was a powerful one; only the diabolical quickness of the Count’s +leap back saved him. A second less and the trenchant blade had shorne +through his heart. As it was, the point just cut the cloth of his coat, +making a wide gap whence a bundle of bank-notes and a stream of gold +fell out. The expression of the Count’s face was so hellish, that for a +moment I feared for Harker, though I saw him throw the terrible knife +aloft again for another stroke. Instinctively I moved forward with a +protective impulse, holding the Crucifix and Wafer in my left hand. I +felt a mighty power fly along my arm; and it was without surprise that I +saw the monster cower back before a similar movement made spontaneously +by each one of us. It would be impossible to describe the expression of +hate and baffled malignity--of anger and hellish rage--which came over +the Count’s face. His waxen hue became greenish-yellow by the contrast +of his burning eyes, and the red scar on the forehead showed on the +pallid skin like a palpitating wound. The next instant, with a sinuous +dive he swept under Harker’s arm, ere his blow could fall, and, grasping +a handful of the money from the floor, dashed across the room, threw +himself at the window. Amid the crash and glitter of the falling glass, +he tumbled into the flagged area below. Through the sound of the +shivering glass I could hear the “ting” of the gold, as some of the +sovereigns fell on the flagging. + +We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground. He, rushing up +the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and pushed open the stable door. +There he turned and spoke to us:-- + +“You think to baffle me, you--with your pale faces all in a row, like +sheep in a butcher’s. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think +you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My revenge is +just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your +girls that you all love are mine already; and through them you and +others shall yet be mine--my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my +jackals when I want to feed. Bah!” With a contemptuous sneer, he passed +quickly through the door, and we heard the rusty bolt creak as he +fastened it behind him. A door beyond opened and shut. The first of us +to speak was the Professor, as, realising the difficulty of following +him through the stable, we moved toward the hall. + +“We have learnt something--much! Notwithstanding his brave words, he +fears us; he fear time, he fear want! For if not, why he hurry so? His +very tone betray him, or my ears deceive. Why take that money? You +follow quick. You are hunters of wild beast, and understand it so. For +me, I make sure that nothing here may be of use to him, if so that he +return.” As he spoke he put the money remaining into his pocket; took +the title-deeds in the bundle as Harker had left them, and swept the +remaining things into the open fireplace, where he set fire to them with +a match. + +Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and Harker had +lowered himself from the window to follow the Count. He had, however, +bolted the stable door; and by the time they had forced it open there +was no sign of him. Van Helsing and I tried to make inquiry at the back +of the house; but the mews was deserted and no one had seen him depart. + +It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far off. We had to +recognise that our game was up; with heavy hearts we agreed with the +Professor when he said:-- + +“Let us go back to Madam Mina--poor, poor dear Madam Mina. All we can do +just now is done; and we can there, at least, protect her. But we need +not despair. There is but one more earth-box, and we must try to find +it; when that is done all may yet be well.” I could see that he spoke as +bravely as he could to comfort Harker. The poor fellow was quite broken +down; now and again he gave a low groan which he could not suppress--he +was thinking of his wife. + +With sad hearts we came back to my house, where we found Mrs. Harker +waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness which did honour to her +bravery and unselfishness. When she saw our faces, her own became as +pale as death: for a second or two her eyes were closed as if she were +in secret prayer; and then she said cheerfully:-- + +“I can never thank you all enough. Oh, my poor darling!” As she spoke, +she took her husband’s grey head in her hands and kissed it--“Lay your +poor head here and rest it. All will yet be well, dear! God will protect +us if He so will it in His good intent.” The poor fellow groaned. There +was no place for words in his sublime misery. + +We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I think it cheered us +all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the mere animal heat of food to hungry +people--for none of us had eaten anything since breakfast--or the sense +of companionship may have helped us; but anyhow we were all less +miserable, and saw the morrow as not altogether without hope. True to +our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything which had passed; and +although she grew snowy white at times when danger had seemed to +threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to her was +manifested, she listened bravely and with calmness. When we came to the +part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung to +her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could +protect him from any harm that might come. She said nothing, however, +till the narration was all done, and matters had been brought right up +to the present time. Then without letting go her husband’s hand she +stood up amongst us and spoke. Oh, that I could give any idea of the +scene; of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all the radiant beauty +of her youth and animation, with the red scar on her forehead, of which +she was conscious, and which we saw with grinding of our +teeth--remembering whence and how it came; her loving kindness against +our grim hate; her tender faith against all our fears and doubting; and +we, knowing that so far as symbols went, she with all her goodness and +purity and faith, was outcast from God. + +“Jonathan,” she said, and the word sounded like music on her lips it was +so full of love and tenderness, “Jonathan dear, and you all my true, +true friends, I want you to bear something in mind through all this +dreadful time. I know that you must fight--that you must destroy even as +you destroyed the false Lucy so that the true Lucy might live hereafter; +but it is not a work of hate. That poor soul who has wrought all this +misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when +he, too, is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may have +spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him, too, though it may +not hold your hands from his destruction.” + +As she spoke I could see her husband’s face darken and draw together, as +though the passion in him were shrivelling his being to its core. +Instinctively the clasp on his wife’s hand grew closer, till his +knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from the pain which I knew she +must have suffered, but looked at him with eyes that were more appealing +than ever. As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet, almost tearing +his hand from hers as he spoke:-- + +“May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy that +earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond it I could send +his soul for ever and ever to burning hell I would do it!” + +“Oh, hush! oh, hush! in the name of the good God. Don’t say such things, +Jonathan, my husband; or you will crush me with fear and horror. Just +think, my dear--I have been thinking all this long, long day of it--that +... perhaps ... some day ... I, too, may need such pity; and that some +other like you--and with equal cause for anger--may deny it to me! Oh, +my husband! my husband, indeed I would have spared you such a thought +had there been another way; but I pray that God may not have treasured +your wild words, except as the heart-broken wail of a very loving and +sorely stricken man. Oh, God, let these poor white hairs go in evidence +of what he has suffered, who all his life has done no wrong, and on whom +so many sorrows have come.” + +We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them, and we wept +openly. She wept, too, to see that her sweeter counsels had prevailed. +Her husband flung himself on his knees beside her, and putting his arms +round her, hid his face in the folds of her dress. Van Helsing beckoned +to us and we stole out of the room, leaving the two loving hearts alone +with their God. + +Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room against any coming +of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Harker that she might rest in peace. +She tried to school herself to the belief, and, manifestly for her +husband’s sake, tried to seem content. It was a brave struggle; and was, +I think and believe, not without its reward. Van Helsing had placed at +hand a bell which either of them was to sound in case of any emergency. +When they had retired, Quincey, Godalming, and I arranged that we should +sit up, dividing the night between us, and watch over the safety of the +poor stricken lady. The first watch falls to Quincey, so the rest of us +shall be off to bed as soon as we can. Godalming has already turned in, +for his is the second watch. Now that my work is done I, too, shall go +to bed. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_3-4 October, close to midnight._--I thought yesterday would never end. +There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind belief +that to wake would be to find things changed, and that any change must +now be for the better. Before we parted, we discussed what our next step +was to be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew was that one +earth-box remained, and that the Count alone knew where it was. If he +chooses to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years; and in the +meantime!--the thought is too horrible, I dare not think of it even now. +This I know: that if ever there was a woman who was all perfection, that +one is my poor wronged darling. I love her a thousand times more for her +sweet pity of last night, a pity that made my own hate of the monster +seem despicable. Surely God will not permit the world to be the poorer +by the loss of such a creature. This is hope to me. We are all drifting +reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor. Thank God! Mina is +sleeping, and sleeping without dreams. I fear what her dreams might be +like, with such terrible memories to ground them in. She has not been so +calm, within my seeing, since the sunset. Then, for a while, there came +over her face a repose which was like spring after the blasts of March. +I thought at the time that it was the softness of the red sunset on her +face, but somehow now I think it has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy +myself, though I am weary--weary to death. However, I must try to sleep; +for there is to-morrow to think of, and there is no rest for me +until.... + + * * * * * + +_Later._--I must have fallen asleep, for I was awaked by Mina, who was +sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her face. I could see easily, +for we did not leave the room in darkness; she had placed a warning hand +over my mouth, and now she whispered in my ear:-- + +“Hush! there is someone in the corridor!” I got up softly, and crossing +the room, gently opened the door. + +Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide awake. He +raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to me:-- + +“Hush! go back to bed; it is all right. One of us will be here all +night. We don’t mean to take any chances!” + +His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and told Mina. +She sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole over her poor, pale +face as she put her arms round me and said softly:-- + +“Oh, thank God for good brave men!” With a sigh she sank back again to +sleep. I write this now as I am not sleepy, though I must try again. + + * * * * * + +_4 October, morning._--Once again during the night I was wakened by +Mina. This time we had all had a good sleep, for the grey of the coming +dawn was making the windows into sharp oblongs, and the gas flame was +like a speck rather than a disc of light. She said to me hurriedly:-- + +“Go, call the Professor. I want to see him at once.” + +“Why?” I asked. + +“I have an idea. I suppose it must have come in the night, and matured +without my knowing it. He must hypnotise me before the dawn, and then I +shall be able to speak. Go quick, dearest; the time is getting close.” I +went to the door. Dr. Seward was resting on the mattress, and, seeing +me, he sprang to his feet. + +“Is anything wrong?” he asked, in alarm. + +“No,” I replied; “but Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at once.” + +“I will go,” he said, and hurried into the Professor’s room. + +In two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his +dressing-gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming were with Dr. Seward at +the door asking questions. When the Professor saw Mina smile--a +positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face; he rubbed his hands as he +said:-- + +“Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is indeed a change. See! friend Jonathan, +we have got our dear Madam Mina, as of old, back to us to-day!” Then +turning to her, he said, cheerfully: “And what am I do for you? For at +this hour you do not want me for nothings.” + +“I want you to hypnotise me!” she said. “Do it before the dawn, for I +feel that then I can speak, and speak freely. Be quick, for the time is +short!” Without a word he motioned her to sit up in bed. + +Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in front of her, +from over the top of her head downward, with each hand in turn. Mina +gazed at him fixedly for a few minutes, during which my own heart beat +like a trip hammer, for I felt that some crisis was at hand. Gradually +her eyes closed, and she sat, stock still; only by the gentle heaving of +her bosom could one know that she was alive. The Professor made a few +more passes and then stopped, and I could see that his forehead was +covered with great beads of perspiration. Mina opened her eyes; but she +did not seem the same woman. There was a far-away look in her eyes, and +her voice had a sad dreaminess which was new to me. Raising his hand to +impose silence, the Professor motioned to me to bring the others in. +They came on tip-toe, closing the door behind them, and stood at the +foot of the bed, looking on. Mina appeared not to see them. The +stillness was broken by Van Helsing’s voice speaking in a low level tone +which would not break the current of her thoughts:-- + +“Where are you?” The answer came in a neutral way:-- + +“I do not know. Sleep has no place it can call its own.” For several +minutes there was silence. Mina sat rigid, and the Professor stood +staring at her fixedly; the rest of us hardly dared to breathe. The room +was growing lighter; without taking his eyes from Mina’s face, Dr. Van +Helsing motioned me to pull up the blind. I did so, and the day seemed +just upon us. A red streak shot up, and a rosy light seemed to diffuse +itself through the room. On the instant the Professor spoke again:-- + +“Where are you now?” The answer came dreamily, but with intention; it +were as though she were interpreting something. I have heard her use the +same tone when reading her shorthand notes. + +“I do not know. It is all strange to me!” + +“What do you see?” + +“I can see nothing; it is all dark.” + +“What do you hear?” I could detect the strain in the Professor’s patient +voice. + +“The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves leap. I can +hear them on the outside.” + +“Then you are on a ship?” We all looked at each other, trying to glean +something each from the other. We were afraid to think. The answer came +quick:-- + +“Oh, yes!” + +“What else do you hear?” + +“The sound of men stamping overhead as they run about. There is the +creaking of a chain, and the loud tinkle as the check of the capstan +falls into the rachet.” + +“What are you doing?” + +“I am still--oh, so still. It is like death!” The voice faded away into +a deep breath as of one sleeping, and the open eyes closed again. + +By this time the sun had risen, and we were all in the full light of +day. Dr. Van Helsing placed his hands on Mina’s shoulders, and laid her +head down softly on her pillow. She lay like a sleeping child for a few +moments, and then, with a long sigh, awoke and stared in wonder to see +us all around her. “Have I been talking in my sleep?” was all she said. +She seemed, however, to know the situation without telling, though she +was eager to know what she had told. The Professor repeated the +conversation, and she said:-- + +“Then there is not a moment to lose: it may not be yet too late!” Mr. +Morris and Lord Godalming started for the door but the Professor’s calm +voice called them back:-- + +“Stay, my friends. That ship, wherever it was, was weighing anchor +whilst she spoke. There are many ships weighing anchor at the moment in +your so great Port of London. Which of them is it that you seek? God be +thanked that we have once again a clue, though whither it may lead us we +know not. We have been blind somewhat; blind after the manner of men, +since when we can look back we see what we might have seen looking +forward if we had been able to see what we might have seen! Alas, but +that sentence is a puddle; is it not? We can know now what was in the +Count’s mind, when he seize that money, though Jonathan’s so fierce +knife put him in the danger that even he dread. He meant escape. Hear +me, ESCAPE! He saw that with but one earth-box left, and a pack of men +following like dogs after a fox, this London was no place for him. He +have take his last earth-box on board a ship, and he leave the land. He +think to escape, but no! we follow him. Tally Ho! as friend Arthur would +say when he put on his red frock! Our old fox is wily; oh! so wily, and +we must follow with wile. I, too, am wily and I think his mind in a +little while. In meantime we may rest and in peace, for there are waters +between us which he do not want to pass, and which he could not if he +would--unless the ship were to touch the land, and then only at full or +slack tide. See, and the sun is just rose, and all day to sunset is to +us. Let us take bath, and dress, and have breakfast which we all need, +and which we can eat comfortably since he be not in the same land with +us.” Mina looked at him appealingly as she asked:-- + +“But why need we seek him further, when he is gone away from us?” He +took her hand and patted it as he replied:-- + +“Ask me nothings as yet. When we have breakfast, then I answer all +questions.” He would say no more, and we separated to dress. + +After breakfast Mina repeated her question. He looked at her gravely for +a minute and then said sorrowfully:-- + +“Because my dear, dear Madam Mina, now more than ever must we find him +even if we have to follow him to the jaws of Hell!” She grew paler as +she asked faintly:-- + +“Why?” + +“Because,” he answered solemnly, “he can live for centuries, and you are +but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded--since once he put that mark +upon your throat.” + +I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a faint. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DR. SEWARD’S PHONOGRAPH DIARY, SPOKEN BY VAN HELSING + + +This to Jonathan Harker. + +You are to stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall go to make our +search--if I can call it so, for it is not search but knowing, and we +seek confirmation only. But do you stay and take care of her to-day. +This is your best and most holiest office. This day nothing can find him +here. Let me tell you that so you will know what we four know already, +for I have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone away; he have gone back +to his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so well, as if a great hand of +fire wrote it on the wall. He have prepare for this in some way, and +that last earth-box was ready to ship somewheres. For this he took the +money; for this he hurry at the last, lest we catch him before the sun +go down. It was his last hope, save that he might hide in the tomb that +he think poor Miss Lucy, being as he thought like him, keep open to him. +But there was not of time. When that fail he make straight for his last +resource--his last earth-work I might say did I wish _double entente_. +He is clever, oh, so clever! he know that his game here was finish; and +so he decide he go back home. He find ship going by the route he came, +and he go in it. We go off now to find what ship, and whither bound; +when we have discover that, we come back and tell you all. Then we will +comfort you and poor dear Madam Mina with new hope. For it will be hope +when you think it over: that all is not lost. This very creature that we +pursue, he take hundreds of years to get so far as London; and yet in +one day, when we know of the disposal of him we drive him out. He is +finite, though he is powerful to do much harm and suffers not as we do. +But we are strong, each in our purpose; and we are all more strong +together. Take heart afresh, dear husband of Madam Mina. This battle is +but begun, and in the end we shall win--so sure as that God sits on high +to watch over His children. Therefore be of much comfort till we return. + +VAN HELSING. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_4 October._--When I read to Mina, Van Helsing’s message in the +phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably. Already the +certainty that the Count is out of the country has given her comfort; +and comfort is strength to her. For my own part, now that his horrible +danger is not face to face with us, it seems almost impossible to +believe in it. Even my own terrible experiences in Castle Dracula seem +like a long-forgotten dream. Here in the crisp autumn air in the bright +sunlight---- + +Alas! how can I disbelieve! In the midst of my thought my eye fell on +the red scar on my poor darling’s white forehead. Whilst that lasts, +there can be no disbelief. And afterwards the very memory of it will +keep faith crystal clear. Mina and I fear to be idle, so we have been +over all the diaries again and again. Somehow, although the reality +seems greater each time, the pain and the fear seem less. There is +something of a guiding purpose manifest throughout, which is comforting. +Mina says that perhaps we are the instruments of ultimate good. It may +be! I shall try to think as she does. We have never spoken to each other +yet of the future. It is better to wait till we see the Professor and +the others after their investigations. + +The day is running by more quickly than I ever thought a day could run +for me again. It is now three o’clock. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_5 October, 5 p. m._--Our meeting for report. Present: Professor Van +Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey Morris, Jonathan +Harker, Mina Harker. + +Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during the day to +discover on what boat and whither bound Count Dracula made his escape:-- + +“As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt sure that +he must go by the Danube mouth; or by somewhere in the Black Sea, since +by that way he come. It was a dreary blank that was before us. _Omne +ignotum pro magnifico_; and so with heavy hearts we start to find what +ships leave for the Black Sea last night. He was in sailing ship, since +Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These not so important as to go in +your list of the shipping in the _Times_, and so we go, by suggestion of +Lord Godalming, to your Lloyd’s, where are note of all ships that sail, +however so small. There we find that only one Black-Sea-bound ship go +out with the tide. She is the _Czarina Catherine_, and she sail from +Doolittle’s Wharf for Varna, and thence on to other parts and up the +Danube. ‘Soh!’ said I, ‘this is the ship whereon is the Count.’ So off +we go to Doolittle’s Wharf, and there we find a man in an office of wood +so small that the man look bigger than the office. From him we inquire +of the goings of the _Czarina Catherine_. He swear much, and he red face +and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the same; and when Quincey +give him something from his pocket which crackle as he roll it up, and +put it in a so small bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he +still better fellow and humble servant to us. He come with us, and ask +many men who are rough and hot; these be better fellows too when they +have been no more thirsty. They say much of blood and bloom, and of +others which I comprehend not, though I guess what they mean; but +nevertheless they tell us all things which we want to know. + +“They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at about five +o’clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and pale, with high nose +and teeth so white, and eyes that seem to be burning. That he be all in +black, except that he have a hat of straw which suit not him or the +time. That he scatter his money in making quick inquiry as to what ship +sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took him to the office and +then to the ship, where he will not go aboard but halt at shore end of +gang-plank, and ask that the captain come to him. The captain come, when +told that he will be pay well; and though he swear much at the first he +agree to term. Then the thin man go and some one tell him where horse +and cart can be hired. He go there and soon he come again, himself +driving cart on which a great box; this he himself lift down, though it +take several to put it on truck for the ship. He give much talk to +captain as to how and where his box is to be place; but the captain like +it not and swear at him in many tongues, and tell him that if he like he +can come and see where it shall be. But he say ‘no’; that he come not +yet, for that he have much to do. Whereupon the captain tell him that he +had better be quick--with blood--for that his ship will leave the +place--of blood--before the turn of the tide--with blood. Then the thin +man smile and say that of course he must go when he think fit; but he +will be surprise if he go quite so soon. The captain swear again, +polyglot, and the thin man make him bow, and thank him, and say that he +will so far intrude on his kindness as to come aboard before the +sailing. Final the captain, more red than ever, and in more tongues tell +him that he doesn’t want no Frenchmen--with bloom upon them and also +with blood--in his ship--with blood on her also. And so, after asking +where there might be close at hand a ship where he might purchase ship +forms, he departed. + +“No one knew where he went ‘or bloomin’ well cared,’ as they said, for +they had something else to think of--well with blood again; for it soon +became apparent to all that the _Czarina Catherine_ would not sail as +was expected. A thin mist began to creep up from the river, and it grew, +and grew; till soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and all around her. +The captain swore polyglot--very polyglot--polyglot with bloom and +blood; but he could do nothing. The water rose and rose; and he began to +fear that he would lose the tide altogether. He was in no friendly mood, +when just at full tide, the thin man came up the gang-plank again and +asked to see where his box had been stowed. Then the captain replied +that he wished that he and his box--old and with much bloom and +blood--were in hell. But the thin man did not be offend, and went down +with the mate and saw where it was place, and came up and stood awhile +on deck in fog. He must have come off by himself, for none notice him. +Indeed they thought not of him; for soon the fog begin to melt away, and +all was clear again. My friends of the thirst and the language that was +of bloom and blood laughed, as they told how the captain’s swears +exceeded even his usual polyglot, and was more than ever full of +picturesque, when on questioning other mariners who were on movement up +and down on the river that hour, he found that few of them had seen any +of fog at all, except where it lay round the wharf. However, the ship +went out on the ebb tide; and was doubtless by morning far down the +river mouth. She was by then, when they told us, well out to sea. + +“And so, my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a time, for +our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his command, on his way to the +Danube mouth. To sail a ship takes time, go she never so quick; and when +we start we go on land more quick, and we meet him there. Our best hope +is to come on him when in the box between sunrise and sunset; for then +he can make no struggle, and we may deal with him as we should. There +are days for us, in which we can make ready our plan. We know all about +where he go; for we have seen the owner of the ship, who have shown us +invoices and all papers that can be. The box we seek is to be landed in +Varna, and to be given to an agent, one Ristics who will there present +his credentials; and so our merchant friend will have done his part. +When he ask if there be any wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and +have inquiry made at Varna, we say ‘no’; for what is to be done is not +for police or of the customs. It must be done by us alone and in our own +way.” + +When Dr. Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he were certain +that the Count had remained on board the ship. He replied: “We have the +best proof of that: your own evidence, when in the hypnotic trance this +morning.” I asked him again if it were really necessary that they should +pursue the Count, for oh! I dread Jonathan leaving me, and I know that +he would surely go if the others went. He answered in growing passion, +at first quietly. As he went on, however, he grew more angry and more +forceful, till in the end we could not but see wherein was at least some +of that personal dominance which made him so long a master amongst +men:-- + +“Yes, it is necessary--necessary--necessary! For your sake in the first, +and then for the sake of humanity. This monster has done much harm +already, in the narrow scope where he find himself, and in the short +time when as yet he was only as a body groping his so small measure in +darkness and not knowing. All this have I told these others; you, my +dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of my friend John, or +in that of your husband. I have told them how the measure of leaving his +own barren land--barren of peoples--and coming to a new land where life +of man teems till they are like the multitude of standing corn, was the +work of centuries. Were another of the Un-Dead, like him, to try to do +what he has done, perhaps not all the centuries of the world that have +been, or that will be, could aid him. With this one, all the forces of +nature that are occult and deep and strong must have worked together in +some wondrous way. The very place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead for +all these centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and chemical +world. There are deep caverns and fissures that reach none know whither. +There have been volcanoes, some of whose openings still send out waters +of strange properties, and gases that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, +there is something magnetic or electric in some of these combinations of +occult forces which work for physical life in strange way; and in +himself were from the first some great qualities. In a hard and warlike +time he was celebrate that he have more iron nerve, more subtle brain, +more braver heart, than any man. In him some vital principle have in +strange way found their utmost; and as his body keep strong and grow and +thrive, so his brain grow too. All this without that diabolic aid which +is surely to him; for it have to yield to the powers that come from, +and are, symbolic of good. And now this is what he is to us. He have +infect you--oh, forgive me, my dear, that I must say such; but it is for +good of you that I speak. He infect you in such wise, that even if he do +no more, you have only to live--to live in your own old, sweet way; and +so in time, death, which is of man’s common lot and with God’s sanction, +shall make you like to him. This must not be! We have sworn together +that it must not. Thus are we ministers of God’s own wish: that the +world, and men for whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, +whose very existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one +soul already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem +more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise; and like them, if +we fall, we fall in good cause.” He paused and I said:-- + +“But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely? Since he has been driven +from England, will he not avoid it, as a tiger does the village from +which he has been hunted?” + +“Aha!” he said, “your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I shall +adopt him. Your man-eater, as they of India call the tiger who has once +tasted blood of the human, care no more for the other prey, but prowl +unceasing till he get him. This that we hunt from our village is a +tiger, too, a man-eater, and he never cease to prowl. Nay, in himself he +is not one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his living life, he go +over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on his own ground; he be +beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and again, and again. +Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain that was to +him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a great city. What +does he do? He find out the place of all the world most of promise for +him. Then he deliberately set himself down to prepare for the task. He +find in patience just how is his strength, and what are his powers. He +study new tongues. He learn new social life; new environment of old +ways, the politic, the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new +land and a new people who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that +he have had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help +him to grow as to his brain; for it all prove to him how right he was at +the first in his surmises. He have done this alone; all alone! from a +ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the greater +world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know +him; who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole +peoples. Oh, if such an one was to come from God, and not the Devil, +what a force for good might he not be in this old world of ours. But we +are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence, and our +efforts all in secret; for in this enlightened age, when men believe not +even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest +strength. It would be at once his sheath and his armour, and his weapons +to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls +for the safety of one we love--for the good of mankind, and for the +honour and glory of God.” + +After a general discussion it was determined that for to-night nothing +be definitely settled; that we should all sleep on the facts, and try to +think out the proper conclusions. To-morrow, at breakfast, we are to +meet again, and, after making our conclusions known to one another, we +shall decide on some definite cause of action. + + * * * * * + +I feel a wonderful peace and rest to-night. It is as if some haunting +presence were removed from me. Perhaps ... + +My surmise was not finished, could not be; for I caught sight in the +mirror of the red mark upon my forehead; and I knew that I was still +unclean. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_5 October._--We all rose early, and I think that sleep did much for +each and all of us. When we met at early breakfast there was more +general cheerfulness than any of us had ever expected to experience +again. + +It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let +any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way--even by +death--and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment. More +than once as we sat around the table, my eyes opened in wonder whether +the whole of the past days had not been a dream. It was only when I +caught sight of the red blotch on Mrs. Harker’s forehead that I was +brought back to reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving the +matter, it is almost impossible to realise that the cause of all our +trouble is still existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her +trouble for whole spells; it is only now and again, when something +recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her terrible scar. We are to +meet here in my study in half an hour and decide on our course of +action. I see only one immediate difficulty, I know it by instinct +rather than reason: we shall all have to speak frankly; and yet I fear +that in some mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker’s tongue is tied. I _know_ +that she forms conclusions of her own, and from all that has been I can +guess how brilliant and how true they must be; but she will not, or +cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned this to Van Helsing, and +he and I are to talk it over when we are alone. I suppose it is some of +that horrid poison which has got into her veins beginning to work. The +Count had his own purposes when he gave her what Van Helsing called “the +Vampire’s baptism of blood.” Well, there may be a poison that distils +itself out of good things; in an age when the existence of ptomaines is +a mystery we should not wonder at anything! One thing I know: that if my +instinct be true regarding poor Mrs. Harker’s silences, then there is a +terrible difficulty--an unknown danger--in the work before us. The same +power that compels her silence may compel her speech. I dare not think +further; for so I should in my thoughts dishonour a noble woman! + +Van Helsing is coming to my study a little before the others. I shall +try to open the subject with him. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--When the Professor came in, we talked over the state of +things. I could see that he had something on his mind which he wanted to +say, but felt some hesitancy about broaching the subject. After beating +about the bush a little, he said suddenly:-- + +“Friend John, there is something that you and I must talk of alone, just +at the first at any rate. Later, we may have to take the others into our +confidence”; then he stopped, so I waited; he went on:-- + +“Madam Mina, our poor, dear Madam Mina is changing.” A cold shiver ran +through me to find my worst fears thus endorsed. Van Helsing +continued:-- + +“With the sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time be warned +before things go too far. Our task is now in reality more difficult than +ever, and this new trouble makes every hour of the direst importance. I +can see the characteristics of the vampire coming in her face. It is now +but very, very slight; but it is to be seen if we have eyes to notice +without to prejudge. Her teeth are some sharper, and at times her eyes +are more hard. But these are not all, there is to her the silence now +often; as so it was with Miss Lucy. She did not speak, even when she +wrote that which she wished to be known later. Now my fear is this. If +it be that she can, by our hypnotic trance, tell what the Count see and +hear, is it not more true that he who have hypnotise her first, and who +have drink of her very blood and make her drink of his, should, if he +will, compel her mind to disclose to him that which she know?” I nodded +acquiescence; he went on:-- + +“Then, what we must do is to prevent this; we must keep her ignorant of +our intent, and so she cannot tell what she know not. This is a painful +task! Oh, so painful that it heart-break me to think of; but it must be. +When to-day we meet, I must tell her that for reason which we will not +to speak she must not more be of our council, but be simply guarded by +us.” He wiped his forehead, which had broken out in profuse perspiration +at the thought of the pain which he might have to inflict upon the poor +soul already so tortured. I knew that it would be some sort of comfort +to him if I told him that I also had come to the same conclusion; for at +any rate it would take away the pain of doubt. I told him, and the +effect was as I expected. + +It is now close to the time of our general gathering. Van Helsing has +gone away to prepare for the meeting, and his painful part of it. I +really believe his purpose is to be able to pray alone. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--At the very outset of our meeting a great personal relief was +experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs. Harker had sent a +message by her husband to say that she would not join us at present, as +she thought it better that we should be free to discuss our movements +without her presence to embarrass us. The Professor and I looked at each +other for an instant, and somehow we both seemed relieved. For my own +part, I thought that if Mrs. Harker realised the danger herself, it was +much pain as well as much danger averted. Under the circumstances we +agreed, by a questioning look and answer, with finger on lip, to +preserve silence in our suspicions, until we should have been able to +confer alone again. We went at once into our Plan of Campaign. Van +Helsing roughly put the facts before us first:-- + +“The _Czarina Catherine_ left the Thames yesterday morning. It will take +her at the quickest speed she has ever made at least three weeks to +reach Varna; but we can travel overland to the same place in three days. +Now, if we allow for two days less for the ship’s voyage, owing to such +weather influences as we know that the Count can bring to bear; and if +we allow a whole day and night for any delays which may occur to us, +then we have a margin of nearly two weeks. Thus, in order to be quite +safe, we must leave here on 17th at latest. Then we shall at any rate +be in Varna a day before the ship arrives, and able to make such +preparations as may be necessary. Of course we shall all go armed--armed +against evil things, spiritual as well as physical.” Here Quincey Morris +added:-- + +“I understand that the Count comes from a wolf country, and it may be +that he shall get there before us. I propose that we add Winchesters to +our armament. I have a kind of belief in a Winchester when there is any +trouble of that sort around. Do you remember, Art, when we had the pack +after us at Tobolsk? What wouldn’t we have given then for a repeater +apiece!” + +“Good!” said Van Helsing, “Winchesters it shall be. Quincey’s head is +level at all times, but most so when there is to hunt, metaphor be more +dishonour to science than wolves be of danger to man. In the meantime we +can do nothing here; and as I think that Varna is not familiar to any of +us, why not go there more soon? It is as long to wait here as there. +To-night and to-morrow we can get ready, and then, if all be well, we +four can set out on our journey.” + +“We four?” said Harker interrogatively, looking from one to another of +us. + +“Of course!” answered the Professor quickly, “you must remain to take +care of your so sweet wife!” Harker was silent for awhile and then said +in a hollow voice:-- + +“Let us talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to consult with +Mina.” I thought that now was the time for Van Helsing to warn him not +to disclose our plans to her; but he took no notice. I looked at him +significantly and coughed. For answer he put his finger on his lips and +turned away. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_5 October, afternoon._--For some time after our meeting this morning I +could not think. The new phases of things leave my mind in a state of +wonder which allows no room for active thought. Mina’s determination not +to take any part in the discussion set me thinking; and as I could not +argue the matter with her, I could only guess. I am as far as ever from +a solution now. The way the others received it, too, puzzled me; the +last time we talked of the subject we agreed that there was to be no +more concealment of anything amongst us. Mina is sleeping now, calmly +and sweetly like a little child. Her lips are curved and her face beams +with happiness. Thank God, there are such moments still for her. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina’s happy sleep, and +came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I shall ever be. As the +evening drew on, and the earth took its shadows from the sun sinking +lower, the silence of the room grew more and more solemn to me. All at +once Mina opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly, said:-- + +“Jonathan, I want you to promise me something on your word of honour. A +promise made to me, but made holily in God’s hearing, and not to be +broken though I should go down on my knees and implore you with bitter +tears. Quick, you must make it to me at once.” + +“Mina,” I said, “a promise like that, I cannot make at once. I may have +no right to make it.” + +“But, dear one,” she said, with such spiritual intensity that her eyes +were like pole stars, “it is I who wish it; and it is not for myself. +You can ask Dr. Van Helsing if I am not right; if he disagrees you may +do as you will. Nay, more, if you all agree, later, you are absolved +from the promise.” + +“I promise!” I said, and for a moment she looked supremely happy; though +to me all happiness for her was denied by the red scar on her forehead. +She said:-- + +“Promise me that you will not tell me anything of the plans formed for +the campaign against the Count. Not by word, or inference, or +implication; not at any time whilst this remains to me!” and she +solemnly pointed to the scar. I saw that she was in earnest, and said +solemnly:-- + +“I promise!” and as I said it I felt that from that instant a door had +been shut between us. + + * * * * * + +_Later, midnight._--Mina has been bright and cheerful all the evening. +So much so that all the rest seemed to take courage, as if infected +somewhat with her gaiety; as a result even I myself felt as if the pall +of gloom which weighs us down were somewhat lifted. We all retired +early. Mina is now sleeping like a little child; it is a wonderful thing +that her faculty of sleep remains to her in the midst of her terrible +trouble. Thank God for it, for then at least she can forget her care. +Perhaps her example may affect me as her gaiety did to-night. I shall +try it. Oh! for a dreamless sleep. + + * * * * * + +_6 October, morning._--Another surprise. Mina woke me early, about the +same time as yesterday, and asked me to bring Dr. Van Helsing. I thought +that it was another occasion for hypnotism, and without question went +for the Professor. He had evidently expected some such call, for I found +him dressed in his room. His door was ajar, so that he could hear the +opening of the door of our room. He came at once; as he passed into the +room, he asked Mina if the others might come, too. + +“No,” she said quite simply, “it will not be necessary. You can tell +them just as well. I must go with you on your journey.” + +Dr. Van Helsing was as startled as I was. After a moment’s pause he +asked:-- + +“But why?” + +“You must take me with you. I am safer with you, and you shall be safer, +too.” + +“But why, dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety is our solemnest +duty. We go into danger, to which you are, or may be, more liable than +any of us from--from circumstances--things that have been.” He paused, +embarrassed. + +As she replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her forehead:-- + +“I know. That is why I must go. I can tell you now, whilst the sun is +coming up; I may not be able again. I know that when the Count wills me +I must go. I know that if he tells me to come in secret, I must come by +wile; by any device to hoodwink--even Jonathan.” God saw the look that +she turned on me as she spoke, and if there be indeed a Recording Angel +that look is noted to her everlasting honour. I could only clasp her +hand. I could not speak; my emotion was too great for even the relief of +tears. She went on:-- + +“You men are brave and strong. You are strong in your numbers, for you +can defy that which would break down the human endurance of one who had +to guard alone. Besides, I may be of service, since you can hypnotise me +and so learn that which even I myself do not know.” Dr. Van Helsing said +very gravely:-- + +“Madam Mina, you are, as always, most wise. You shall with us come; and +together we shall do that which we go forth to achieve.” When he had +spoken, Mina’s long spell of silence made me look at her. She had fallen +back on her pillow asleep; she did not even wake when I had pulled up +the blind and let in the sunlight which flooded the room. Van Helsing +motioned to me to come with him quietly. We went to his room, and within +a minute Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris were with us also. +He told them what Mina had said, and went on:-- + +“In the morning we shall leave for Varna. We have now to deal with a +new factor: Madam Mina. Oh, but her soul is true. It is to her an agony +to tell us so much as she has done; but it is most right, and we are +warned in time. There must be no chance lost, and in Varna we must be +ready to act the instant when that ship arrives.” + +“What shall we do exactly?” asked Mr. Morris laconically. The Professor +paused before replying:-- + +“We shall at the first board that ship; then, when we have identified +the box, we shall place a branch of the wild rose on it. This we shall +fasten, for when it is there none can emerge; so at least says the +superstition. And to superstition must we trust at the first; it was +man’s faith in the early, and it have its root in faith still. Then, +when we get the opportunity that we seek, when none are near to see, we +shall open the box, and--and all will be well.” + +“I shall not wait for any opportunity,” said Morris. “When I see the box +I shall open it and destroy the monster, though there were a thousand +men looking on, and if I am to be wiped out for it the next moment!” I +grasped his hand instinctively and found it as firm as a piece of steel. +I think he understood my look; I hope he did. + +“Good boy,” said Dr. Van Helsing. “Brave boy. Quincey is all man. God +bless him for it. My child, believe me none of us shall lag behind or +pause from any fear. I do but say what we may do--what we must do. But, +indeed, indeed we cannot say what we shall do. There are so many things +which may happen, and their ways and their ends are so various that +until the moment we may not say. We shall all be armed, in all ways; and +when the time for the end has come, our effort shall not be lack. Now +let us to-day put all our affairs in order. Let all things which touch +on others dear to us, and who on us depend, be complete; for none of us +can tell what, or when, or how, the end may be. As for me, my own +affairs are regulate; and as I have nothing else to do, I shall go make +arrangements for the travel. I shall have all tickets and so forth for +our journey.” + +There was nothing further to be said, and we parted. I shall now settle +up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for whatever may come.... + + * * * * * + +_Later._--It is all done; my will is made, and all complete. Mina if she +survive is my sole heir. If it should not be so, then the others who +have been so good to us shall have remainder. + +It is now drawing towards the sunset; Mina’s uneasiness calls my +attention to it. I am sure that there is something on her mind which the +time of exact sunset will reveal. These occasions are becoming harrowing +times for us all, for each sunrise and sunset opens up some new +danger--some new pain, which, however, may in God’s will be means to a +good end. I write all these things in the diary since my darling must +not hear them now; but if it may be that she can see them again, they +shall be ready. + +She is calling to me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_11 October, Evening._--Jonathan Harker has asked me to note this, as he +says he is hardly equal to the task, and he wants an exact record kept. + +I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked to see Mrs. +Harker a little before the time of sunset. We have of late come to +understand that sunrise and sunset are to her times of peculiar freedom; +when her old self can be manifest without any controlling force subduing +or restraining her, or inciting her to action. This mood or condition +begins some half hour or more before actual sunrise or sunset, and lasts +till either the sun is high, or whilst the clouds are still aglow with +the rays streaming above the horizon. At first there is a sort of +negative condition, as if some tie were loosened, and then the absolute +freedom quickly follows; when, however, the freedom ceases the +change-back or relapse comes quickly, preceded only by a spell of +warning silence. + +To-night, when we met, she was somewhat constrained, and bore all the +signs of an internal struggle. I put it down myself to her making a +violent effort at the earliest instant she could do so. A very few +minutes, however, gave her complete control of herself; then, motioning +her husband to sit beside her on the sofa where she was half reclining, +she made the rest of us bring chairs up close. Taking her husband’s hand +in hers began:-- + +“We are all here together in freedom, for perhaps the last time! I know, +dear; I know that you will always be with me to the end.” This was to +her husband whose hand had, as we could see, tightened upon hers. “In +the morning we go out upon our task, and God alone knows what may be in +store for any of us. You are going to be so good to me as to take me +with you. I know that all that brave earnest men can do for a poor weak +woman, whose soul perhaps is lost--no, no, not yet, but is at any rate +at stake--you will do. But you must remember that I am not as you are. +There is a poison in my blood, in my soul, which may destroy me; which +must destroy me, unless some relief comes to us. Oh, my friends, you +know as well as I do, that my soul is at stake; and though I know there +is one way out for me, you must not and I must not take it!” She looked +appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her husband. + +“What is that way?” asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice. “What is that +way, which we must not--may not--take?” + +“That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of another, before +the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know, and you know, that were I +once dead you could and would set free my immortal spirit, even as you +did my poor Lucy’s. Were death, or the fear of death, the only thing +that stood in the way I would not shrink to die here, now, amidst the +friends who love me. But death is not all. I cannot believe that to die +in such a case, when there is hope before us and a bitter task to be +done, is God’s will. Therefore, I, on my part, give up here the +certainty of eternal rest, and go out into the dark where may be the +blackest things that the world or the nether world holds!” We were all +silent, for we knew instinctively that this was only a prelude. The +faces of the others were set and Harker’s grew ashen grey; perhaps he +guessed better than any of us what was coming. She continued:-- + +“This is what I can give into the hotch-pot.” I could not but note the +quaint legal phrase which she used in such a place, and with all +seriousness. “What will each of you give? Your lives I know,” she went +on quickly, “that is easy for brave men. Your lives are God’s, and you +can give them back to Him; but what will you give to me?” She looked +again questioningly, but this time avoided her husband’s face. Quincey +seemed to understand; he nodded, and her face lit up. “Then I shall tell +you plainly what I want, for there must be no doubtful matter in this +connection between us now. You must promise me, one and all--even you, +my beloved husband--that, should the time come, you will kill me.” + +“What is that time?” The voice was Quincey’s, but it was low and +strained. + +“When you shall be convinced that I am so changed that it is better that +I die than I may live. When I am thus dead in the flesh, then you will, +without a moment’s delay, drive a stake through me and cut off my head; +or do whatever else may be wanting to give me rest!” + +Quincey was the first to rise after the pause. He knelt down before her +and taking her hand in his said solemnly:-- + +“I’m only a rough fellow, who hasn’t, perhaps, lived as a man should to +win such a distinction, but I swear to you by all that I hold sacred and +dear that, should the time ever come, I shall not flinch from the duty +that you have set us. And I promise you, too, that I shall make all +certain, for if I am only doubtful I shall take it that the time has +come!” + +“My true friend!” was all she could say amid her fast-falling tears, as, +bending over, she kissed his hand. + +“I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!” said Van Helsing. + +“And I!” said Lord Godalming, each of them in turn kneeling to her to +take the oath. I followed, myself. Then her husband turned to her +wan-eyed and with a greenish pallor which subdued the snowy whiteness of +his hair, and asked:-- + +“And must I, too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?” + +“You too, my dearest,” she said, with infinite yearning of pity in her +voice and eyes. “You must not shrink. You are nearest and dearest and +all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for all life and all +time. Think, dear, that there have been times when brave men have killed +their wives and their womenkind, to keep them from falling into the +hands of the enemy. Their hands did not falter any the more because +those that they loved implored them to slay them. It is men’s duty +towards those whom they love, in such times of sore trial! And oh, my +dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any hand, let it be at +the hand of him that loves me best. Dr. Van Helsing, I have not +forgotten your mercy in poor Lucy’s case to him who loved”--she stopped +with a flying blush, and changed her phrase--“to him who had best right +to give her peace. If that time shall come again, I look to you to make +it a happy memory of my husband’s life that it was his loving hand which +set me free from the awful thrall upon me.” + +“Again I swear!” came the Professor’s resonant voice. Mrs. Harker +smiled, positively smiled, as with a sigh of relief she leaned back and +said:-- + +“And now one word of warning, a warning which you must never forget: +this time, if it ever come, may come quickly and unexpectedly, and in +such case you must lose no time in using your opportunity. At such a +time I myself might be--nay! if the time ever comes, _shall be_--leagued +with your enemy against you.” + +“One more request;” she became very solemn as she said this, “it is not +vital and necessary like the other, but I want you to do one thing for +me, if you will.” We all acquiesced, but no one spoke; there was no need +to speak:-- + +“I want you to read the Burial Service.” She was interrupted by a deep +groan from her husband; taking his hand in hers, she held it over her +heart, and continued: “You must read it over me some day. Whatever may +be the issue of all this fearful state of things, it will be a sweet +thought to all or some of us. You, my dearest, will I hope read it, for +then it will be in your voice in my memory for ever--come what may!” + +“But oh, my dear one,” he pleaded, “death is afar off from you.” + +“Nay,” she said, holding up a warning hand. “I am deeper in death at +this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay heavy upon me!” + +“Oh, my wife, must I read it?” he said, before he began. + +“It would comfort me, my husband!” was all she said; and he began to +read when she had got the book ready. + +“How can I--how could any one--tell of that strange scene, its +solemnity, its gloom, its sadness, its horror; and, withal, its +sweetness. Even a sceptic, who can see nothing but a travesty of bitter +truth in anything holy or emotional, would have been melted to the heart +had he seen that little group of loving and devoted friends kneeling +round that stricken and sorrowing lady; or heard the tender passion of +her husband’s voice, as in tones so broken with emotion that often he +had to pause, he read the simple and beautiful service from the Burial +of the Dead. I--I cannot go on--words--and--v-voice--f-fail m-me!” + + * * * * * + +She was right in her instinct. Strange as it all was, bizarre as it may +hereafter seem even to us who felt its potent influence at the time, it +comforted us much; and the silence, which showed Mrs. Harker’s coming +relapse from her freedom of soul, did not seem so full of despair to any +of us as we had dreaded. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_15 October, Varna._--We left Charing Cross on the morning of the 12th, +got to Paris the same night, and took the places secured for us in the +Orient Express. We travelled night and day, arriving here at about five +o’clock. Lord Godalming went to the Consulate to see if any telegram had +arrived for him, whilst the rest of us came on to this hotel--“the +Odessus.” The journey may have had incidents; I was, however, too eager +to get on, to care for them. Until the _Czarina Catherine_ comes into +port there will be no interest for me in anything in the wide world. +Thank God! Mina is well, and looks to be getting stronger; her colour is +coming back. She sleeps a great deal; throughout the journey she slept +nearly all the time. Before sunrise and sunset, however, she is very +wakeful and alert; and it has become a habit for Van Helsing to +hypnotise her at such times. At first, some effort was needed, and he +had to make many passes; but now, she seems to yield at once, as if by +habit, and scarcely any action is needed. He seems to have power at +these particular moments to simply will, and her thoughts obey him. He +always asks her what she can see and hear. She answers to the first:-- + +“Nothing; all is dark.” And to the second:-- + +“I can hear the waves lapping against the ship, and the water rushing +by. Canvas and cordage strain and masts and yards creak. The wind is +high--I can hear it in the shrouds, and the bow throws back the foam.” +It is evident that the _Czarina Catherine_ is still at sea, hastening on +her way to Varna. Lord Godalming has just returned. He had four +telegrams, one each day since we started, and all to the same effect: +that the _Czarina Catherine_ had not been reported to Lloyd’s from +anywhere. He had arranged before leaving London that his agent should +send him every day a telegram saying if the ship had been reported. He +was to have a message even if she were not reported, so that he might be +sure that there was a watch being kept at the other end of the wire. + +We had dinner and went to bed early. To-morrow we are to see the +Vice-Consul, and to arrange, if we can, about getting on board the ship +as soon as she arrives. Van Helsing says that our chance will be to get +on the boat between sunrise and sunset. The Count, even if he takes the +form of a bat, cannot cross the running water of his own volition, and +so cannot leave the ship. As he dare not change to man’s form without +suspicion--which he evidently wishes to avoid--he must remain in the +box. If, then, we can come on board after sunrise, he is at our mercy; +for we can open the box and make sure of him, as we did of poor Lucy, +before he wakes. What mercy he shall get from us will not count for +much. We think that we shall not have much trouble with officials or the +seamen. Thank God! this is the country where bribery can do anything, +and we are well supplied with money. We have only to make sure that the +ship cannot come into port between sunset and sunrise without our being +warned, and we shall be safe. Judge Moneybag will settle this case, I +think! + + * * * * * + +_16 October._--Mina’s report still the same: lapping waves and rushing +water, darkness and favouring winds. We are evidently in good time, and +when we hear of the _Czarina Catherine_ we shall be ready. As she must +pass the Dardanelles we are sure to have some report. + + * * * * * + +_17 October._--Everything is pretty well fixed now, I think, to welcome +the Count on his return from his tour. Godalming told the shippers that +he fancied that the box sent aboard might contain something stolen from +a friend of his, and got a half consent that he might open it at his own +risk. The owner gave him a paper telling the Captain to give him every +facility in doing whatever he chose on board the ship, and also a +similar authorisation to his agent at Varna. We have seen the agent, who +was much impressed with Godalming’s kindly manner to him, and we are all +satisfied that whatever he can do to aid our wishes will be done. We +have already arranged what to do in case we get the box open. If the +Count is there, Van Helsing and Seward will cut off his head at once and +drive a stake through his heart. Morris and Godalming and I shall +prevent interference, even if we have to use the arms which we shall +have ready. The Professor says that if we can so treat the Count’s body, +it will soon after fall into dust. In such case there would be no +evidence against us, in case any suspicion of murder were aroused. But +even if it were not, we should stand or fall by our act, and perhaps +some day this very script may be evidence to come between some of us and +a rope. For myself, I should take the chance only too thankfully if it +were to come. We mean to leave no stone unturned to carry out our +intent. We have arranged with certain officials that the instant the +_Czarina Catherine_ is seen, we are to be informed by a special +messenger. + + * * * * * + +_24 October._--A whole week of waiting. Daily telegrams to Godalming, +but only the same story: “Not yet reported.” Mina’s morning and evening +hypnotic answer is unvaried: lapping waves, rushing water, and creaking +masts. + +_Telegram, October 24th._ + +_Rufus Smith, Lloyd’s, London, to Lord Godalming, care of H. B. M. +Vice-Consul, Varna._ + +“_Czarina Catherine_ reported this morning from Dardanelles.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_25 October._--How I miss my phonograph! To write diary with a pen is +irksome to me; but Van Helsing says I must. We were all wild with +excitement yesterday when Godalming got his telegram from Lloyd’s. I +know now what men feel in battle when the call to action is heard. Mrs. +Harker, alone of our party, did not show any signs of emotion. After +all, it is not strange that she did not; for we took special care not to +let her know anything about it, and we all tried not to show any +excitement when we were in her presence. In old days she would, I am +sure, have noticed, no matter how we might have tried to conceal it; but +in this way she is greatly changed during the past three weeks. The +lethargy grows upon her, and though she seems strong and well, and is +getting back some of her colour, Van Helsing and I are not satisfied. We +talk of her often; we have not, however, said a word to the others. It +would break poor Harker’s heart--certainly his nerve--if he knew that we +had even a suspicion on the subject. Van Helsing examines, he tells me, +her teeth very carefully, whilst she is in the hypnotic condition, for +he says that so long as they do not begin to sharpen there is no active +danger of a change in her. If this change should come, it would be +necessary to take steps!... We both know what those steps would have to +be, though we do not mention our thoughts to each other. We should +neither of us shrink from the task--awful though it be to contemplate. +“Euthanasia” is an excellent and a comforting word! I am grateful to +whoever invented it. + +It is only about 24 hours’ sail from the Dardanelles to here, at the +rate the _Czarina Catherine_ has come from London. She should therefore +arrive some time in the morning; but as she cannot possibly get in +before then, we are all about to retire early. We shall get up at one +o’clock, so as to be ready. + + * * * * * + +_25 October, Noon_.--No news yet of the ship’s arrival. Mrs. Harker’s +hypnotic report this morning was the same as usual, so it is possible +that we may get news at any moment. We men are all in a fever of +excitement, except Harker, who is calm; his hands are cold as ice, and +an hour ago I found him whetting the edge of the great Ghoorka knife +which he now always carries with him. It will be a bad lookout for the +Count if the edge of that “Kukri” ever touches his throat, driven by +that stern, ice-cold hand! + +Van Helsing and I were a little alarmed about Mrs. Harker to-day. About +noon she got into a sort of lethargy which we did not like; although we +kept silence to the others, we were neither of us happy about it. She +had been restless all the morning, so that we were at first glad to know +that she was sleeping. When, however, her husband mentioned casually +that she was sleeping so soundly that he could not wake her, we went to +her room to see for ourselves. She was breathing naturally and looked so +well and peaceful that we agreed that the sleep was better for her than +anything else. Poor girl, she has so much to forget that it is no wonder +that sleep, if it brings oblivion to her, does her good. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Our opinion was justified, for when after a refreshing sleep +of some hours she woke up, she seemed brighter and better than she had +been for days. At sunset she made the usual hypnotic report. Wherever he +may be in the Black Sea, the Count is hurrying to his destination. To +his doom, I trust! + + * * * * * + +_26 October._--Another day and no tidings of the _Czarina Catherine_. +She ought to be here by now. That she is still journeying _somewhere_ is +apparent, for Mrs. Harker’s hypnotic report at sunrise was still the +same. It is possible that the vessel may be lying by, at times, for fog; +some of the steamers which came in last evening reported patches of fog +both to north and south of the port. We must continue our watching, as +the ship may now be signalled any moment. + + * * * * * + +_27 October, Noon._--Most strange; no news yet of the ship we wait for. +Mrs. Harker reported last night and this morning as usual: “lapping +waves and rushing water,” though she added that “the waves were very +faint.” The telegrams from London have been the same: “no further +report.” Van Helsing is terribly anxious, and told me just now that he +fears the Count is escaping us. He added significantly:-- + +“I did not like that lethargy of Madam Mina’s. Souls and memories can do +strange things during trance.” I was about to ask him more, but Harker +just then came in, and he held up a warning hand. We must try to-night +at sunset to make her speak more fully when in her hypnotic state. + + * * * * * + + _28 October._--Telegram. _Rufus Smith, London, to Lord Godalming, + care H. B. M. Vice Consul, Varna._ + + “_Czarina Catherine_ reported entering Galatz at one o’clock + to-day.” + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_28 October._--When the telegram came announcing the arrival in Galatz I +do not think it was such a shock to any of us as might have been +expected. True, we did not know whence, or how, or when, the bolt would +come; but I think we all expected that something strange would happen. +The delay of arrival at Varna made us individually satisfied that things +would not be just as we had expected; we only waited to learn where the +change would occur. None the less, however, was it a surprise. I suppose +that nature works on such a hopeful basis that we believe against +ourselves that things will be as they ought to be, not as we should know +that they will be. Transcendentalism is a beacon to the angels, even if +it be a will-o’-the-wisp to man. It was an odd experience and we all +took it differently. Van Helsing raised his hand over his head for a +moment, as though in remonstrance with the Almighty; but he said not a +word, and in a few seconds stood up with his face sternly set. Lord +Godalming grew very pale, and sat breathing heavily. I was myself half +stunned and looked in wonder at one after another. Quincey Morris +tightened his belt with that quick movement which I knew so well; in our +old wandering days it meant “action.” Mrs. Harker grew ghastly white, so +that the scar on her forehead seemed to burn, but she folded her hands +meekly and looked up in prayer. Harker smiled--actually smiled--the +dark, bitter smile of one who is without hope; but at the same time his +action belied his words, for his hands instinctively sought the hilt of +the great Kukri knife and rested there. “When does the next train start +for Galatz?” said Van Helsing to us generally. + +“At 6:30 to-morrow morning!” We all started, for the answer came from +Mrs. Harker. + +“How on earth do you know?” said Art. + +“You forget--or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so +does Dr. Van Helsing--that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I +always used to make up the time-tables, so as to be helpful to my +husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of +the time-tables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to Castle +Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate through Bucharest, so I +learned the times very carefully. Unhappily there are not many to learn, +as the only train to-morrow leaves as I say.” + +“Wonderful woman!” murmured the Professor. + +“Can’t we get a special?” asked Lord Godalming. Van Helsing shook his +head: “I fear not. This land is very different from yours or mine; even +if we did have a special, it would probably not arrive as soon as our +regular train. Moreover, we have something to prepare. We must think. +Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the train and get the +tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to go in the morning. Do +you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of the ship and get from him +letters to the agent in Galatz, with authority to make search the ship +just as it was here. Morris Quincey, you see the Vice-Consul, and get +his aid with his fellow in Galatz and all he can do to make our way +smooth, so that no times be lost when over the Danube. John will stay +with Madam Mina and me, and we shall consult. For so if time be long you +may be delayed; and it will not matter when the sun set, since I am here +with Madam to make report.” + +“And I,” said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old self than she +had been for many a long day, “shall try to be of use in all ways, and +shall think and write for you as I used to do. Something is shifting +from me in some strange way, and I feel freer than I have been of late!” +The three younger men looked happier at the moment as they seemed to +realise the significance of her words; but Van Helsing and I, turning to +each other, met each a grave and troubled glance. We said nothing at the +time, however. + +When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Helsing asked Mrs. +Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find him the part of +Harker’s journal at the Castle. She went away to get it; when the door +was shut upon her he said to me:-- + +“We mean the same! speak out!” + +“There is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick, for it may +deceive us.” + +“Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the manuscript?” + +“No!” said I, “unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing me alone.” + +“You are in part right, friend John, but only in part. I want to tell +you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking a great--a terrible--risk; +but I believe it is right. In the moment when Madam Mina said those +words that arrest both our understanding, an inspiration came to me. In +the trance of three days ago the Count sent her his spirit to read her +mind; or more like he took her to see him in his earth-box in the ship +with water rushing, just as it go free at rise and set of sun. He learn +then that we are here; for she have more to tell in her open life with +eyes to see and ears to hear than he, shut, as he is, in his coffin-box. +Now he make his most effort to escape us. At present he want her not. + +“He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at his call; +but he cut her off--take her, as he can do, out of his own power, that +so she come not to him. Ah! there I have hope that our man-brains that +have been of man so long and that have not lost the grace of God, will +come higher than his child-brain that lie in his tomb for centuries, +that grow not yet to our stature, and that do only work selfish and +therefore small. Here comes Madam Mina; not a word to her of her trance! +She know it not; and it would overwhelm her and make despair just when +we want all her hope, all her courage; when most we want all her great +brain which is trained like man’s brain, but is of sweet woman and have +a special power which the Count give her, and which he may not take away +altogether--though he think not so. Hush! let me speak, and you shall +learn. Oh, John, my friend, we are in awful straits. I fear, as I never +feared before. We can only trust the good God. Silence! here she comes!” + +I thought that the Professor was going to break down and have hysterics, +just as he had when Lucy died, but with a great effort he controlled +himself and was at perfect nervous poise when Mrs. Harker tripped into +the room, bright and happy-looking and, in the doing of work, seemingly +forgetful of her misery. As she came in, she handed a number of sheets +of typewriting to Van Helsing. He looked over them gravely, his face +brightening up as he read. Then holding the pages between his finger and +thumb he said:-- + +“Friend John, to you with so much of experience already--and you, too, +dear Madam Mina, that are young--here is a lesson: do not fear ever to +think. A half-thought has been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to +let him loose his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to +where that half-thought come from and I find that he be no half-thought +at all; that be a whole thought, though so young that he is not yet +strong to use his little wings. Nay, like the “Ugly Duck” of my friend +Hans Andersen, he be no duck-thought at all, but a big swan-thought that +sail nobly on big wings, when the time come for him to try them. See I +read here what Jonathan have written:-- + +“That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again, brought +his forces over The Great River into Turkey Land; who, when he was +beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come +alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, +since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph.” + +“What does this tell us? Not much? no! The Count’s child-thought see +nothing; therefore he speak so free. Your man-thought see nothing; my +man-thought see nothing, till just now. No! But there comes another word +from some one who speak without thought because she, too, know not what +it mean--what it _might_ mean. Just as there are elements which rest, +yet when in nature’s course they move on their way and they touch--then +pouf! and there comes a flash of light, heaven wide, that blind and kill +and destroy some; but that show up all earth below for leagues and +leagues. Is it not so? Well, I shall explain. To begin, have you ever +study the philosophy of crime? ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ You, John, yes; for it is +a study of insanity. You, no, Madam Mina; for crime touch you not--not +but once. Still, your mind works true, and argues not _a particulari ad +universale_. There is this peculiarity in criminals. It is so constant, +in all countries and at all times, that even police, who know not much +from philosophy, come to know it empirically, that _it is_. That is to +be empiric. The criminal always work at one crime--that is the true +criminal who seems predestinate to crime, and who will of none other. +This criminal has not full man-brain. He is clever and cunning and +resourceful; but he be not of man-stature as to brain. He be of +child-brain in much. Now this criminal of ours is predestinate to crime +also; he, too, have child-brain, and it is of the child to do what he +have done. The little bird, the little fish, the little animal learn not +by principle, but empirically; and when he learn to do, then there is to +him the ground to start from to do more. ‘_Dos pou sto_,’ said +Archimedes. ‘Give me a fulcrum, and I shall move the world!’ To do once, +is the fulcrum whereby child-brain become man-brain; and until he have +the purpose to do more, he continue to do the same again every time, +just as he have done before! Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes are +opened, and that to you the lightning flash show all the leagues,” for +Mrs. Harker began to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled. He went on:-- + +“Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of science what you see with +those so bright eyes.” He took her hand and held it whilst she spoke. +His finger and thumb closed on her pulse, as I thought instinctively and +unconsciously, as she spoke:-- + +“The Count is a criminal and of criminal type. Nordau and Lombroso would +so classify him, and _quâ_ criminal he is of imperfectly formed mind. +Thus, in a difficulty he has to seek resource in habit. His past is a +clue, and the one page of it that we know--and that from his own +lips--tells that once before, when in what Mr. Morris would call a +‘tight place,’ he went back to his own country from the land he had +tried to invade, and thence, without losing purpose, prepared himself +for a new effort. He came again better equipped for his work; and won. +So he came to London to invade a new land. He was beaten, and when all +hope of success was lost, and his existence in danger, he fled back over +the sea to his home; just as formerly he had fled back over the Danube +from Turkey Land.” + +“Good, good! oh, you so clever lady!” said Van Helsing, +enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later he +said to me, as calmly as though we had been having a sick-room +consultation:-- + +“Seventy-two only; and in all this excitement. I have hope.” Turning to +her again, he said with keen expectation:-- + +“But go on. Go on! there is more to tell if you will. Be not afraid; +John and I know. I do in any case, and shall tell you if you are right. +Speak, without fear!” + +“I will try to; but you will forgive me if I seem egotistical.” + +“Nay! fear not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that we think.” + +“Then, as he is criminal he is selfish; and as his intellect is small +and his action is based on selfishness, he confines himself to one +purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he fled back over the Danube, +leaving his forces to be cut to pieces, so now he is intent on being +safe, careless of all. So his own selfishness frees my soul somewhat +from the terrible power which he acquired over me on that dreadful +night. I felt it! Oh, I felt it! Thank God, for His great mercy! My soul +is freer than it has been since that awful hour; and all that haunts me +is a fear lest in some trance or dream he may have used my knowledge for +his ends.” The Professor stood up:-- + +“He has so used your mind; and by it he has left us here in Varna, +whilst the ship that carried him rushed through enveloping fog up to +Galatz, where, doubtless, he had made preparation for escaping from us. +But his child-mind only saw so far; and it may be that, as ever is in +God’s Providence, the very thing that the evil-doer most reckoned on for +his selfish good, turns out to be his chiefest harm. The hunter is taken +in his own snare, as the great Psalmist says. For now that he think he +is free from every trace of us all, and that he has escaped us with so +many hours to him, then his selfish child-brain will whisper him to +sleep. He think, too, that as he cut himself off from knowing your mind, +there can be no knowledge of him to you; there is where he fail! That +terrible baptism of blood which he give you makes you free to go to him +in spirit, as you have as yet done in your times of freedom, when the +sun rise and set. At such times you go by my volition and not by his; +and this power to good of you and others, as you have won from your +suffering at his hands. This is now all the more precious that he know +it not, and to guard himself have even cut himself off from his +knowledge of our where. We, however, are not selfish, and we believe +that God is with us through all this blackness, and these many dark +hours. We shall follow him; and we shall not flinch; even if we peril +ourselves that we become like him. Friend John, this has been a great +hour; and it have done much to advance us on our way. You must be scribe +and write him all down, so that when the others return from their work +you can give it to them; then they shall know as we do.” + +And so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and Mrs. Harker +has written with her typewriter all since she brought the MS. to us. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +DR. SEWARD’S DIARY + + +_29 October._--This is written in the train from Varna to Galatz. Last +night we all assembled a little before the time of sunset. Each of us +had done his work as well as he could; so far as thought, and endeavour, +and opportunity go, we are prepared for the whole of our journey, and +for our work when we get to Galatz. When the usual time came round Mrs. +Harker prepared herself for her hypnotic effort; and after a longer and +more serious effort on the part of Van Helsing than has been usually +necessary, she sank into the trance. Usually she speaks on a hint; but +this time the Professor had to ask her questions, and to ask them pretty +resolutely, before we could learn anything; at last her answer came:-- + +“I can see nothing; we are still; there are no waves lapping, but only a +steady swirl of water softly running against the hawser. I can hear +men’s voices calling, near and far, and the roll and creak of oars in +the rowlocks. A gun is fired somewhere; the echo of it seems far away. +There is tramping of feet overhead, and ropes and chains are dragged +along. What is this? There is a gleam of light; I can feel the air +blowing upon me.” + +Here she stopped. She had risen, as if impulsively, from where she lay +on the sofa, and raised both her hands, palms upwards, as if lifting a +weight. Van Helsing and I looked at each other with understanding. +Quincey raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at her intently, whilst +Harker’s hand instinctively closed round the hilt of his Kukri. There +was a long pause. We all knew that the time when she could speak was +passing; but we felt that it was useless to say anything. Suddenly she +sat up, and, as she opened her eyes, said sweetly:-- + +“Would none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be so tired!” We +could only make her happy, and so acquiesced. She bustled off to get +tea; when she had gone Van Helsing said:-- + +“You see, my friends. _He_ is close to land: he has left his +earth-chest. But he has yet to get on shore. In the night he may lie +hidden somewhere; but if he be not carried on shore, or if the ship do +not touch it, he cannot achieve the land. In such case he can, if it be +in the night, change his form and can jump or fly on shore, as he did +at Whitby. But if the day come before he get on shore, then, unless he +be carried he cannot escape. And if he be carried, then the customs men +may discover what the box contain. Thus, in fine, if he escape not on +shore to-night, or before dawn, there will be the whole day lost to him. +We may then arrive in time; for if he escape not at night we shall come +on him in daytime, boxed up and at our mercy; for he dare not be his +true self, awake and visible, lest he be discovered.” + +There was no more to be said, so we waited in patience until the dawn; +at which time we might learn more from Mrs. Harker. + +Early this morning we listened, with breathless anxiety, for her +response in her trance. The hypnotic stage was even longer in coming +than before; and when it came the time remaining until full sunrise was +so short that we began to despair. Van Helsing seemed to throw his whole +soul into the effort; at last, in obedience to his will she made +reply:-- + +“All is dark. I hear lapping water, level with me, and some creaking as +of wood on wood.” She paused, and the red sun shot up. We must wait till +to-night. + +And so it is that we are travelling towards Galatz in an agony of +expectation. We are due to arrive between two and three in the morning; +but already, at Bucharest, we are three hours late, so we cannot +possibly get in till well after sun-up. Thus we shall have two more +hypnotic messages from Mrs. Harker; either or both may possibly throw +more light on what is happening. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Sunset has come and gone. Fortunately it came at a time when +there was no distraction; for had it occurred whilst we were at a +station, we might not have secured the necessary calm and isolation. +Mrs. Harker yielded to the hypnotic influence even less readily than +this morning. I am in fear that her power of reading the Count’s +sensations may die away, just when we want it most. It seems to me that +her imagination is beginning to work. Whilst she has been in the trance +hitherto she has confined herself to the simplest of facts. If this goes +on it may ultimately mislead us. If I thought that the Count’s power +over her would die away equally with her power of knowledge it would be +a happy thought; but I am afraid that it may not be so. When she did +speak, her words were enigmatical:-- + +“Something is going out; I can feel it pass me like a cold wind. I can +hear, far off, confused sounds--as of men talking in strange tongues, +fierce-falling water, and the howling of wolves.” She stopped and a +shudder ran through her, increasing in intensity for a few seconds, +till, at the end, she shook as though in a palsy. She said no more, even +in answer to the Professor’s imperative questioning. When she woke from +the trance, she was cold, and exhausted, and languid; but her mind was +all alert. She could not remember anything, but asked what she had said; +when she was told, she pondered over it deeply for a long time and in +silence. + + * * * * * + +_30 October, 7 a. m._--We are near Galatz now, and I may not have time +to write later. Sunrise this morning was anxiously looked for by us all. +Knowing of the increasing difficulty of procuring the hypnotic trance, +Van Helsing began his passes earlier than usual. They produced no +effect, however, until the regular time, when she yielded with a still +greater difficulty, only a minute before the sun rose. The Professor +lost no time in his questioning; her answer came with equal quickness:-- + +“All is dark. I hear water swirling by, level with my ears, and the +creaking of wood on wood. Cattle low far off. There is another sound, a +queer one like----” She stopped and grew white, and whiter still. + +“Go on; go on! Speak, I command you!” said Van Helsing in an agonised +voice. At the same time there was despair in his eyes, for the risen sun +was reddening even Mrs. Harker’s pale face. She opened her eyes, and we +all started as she said, sweetly and seemingly with the utmost +unconcern:-- + +“Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I can’t? I don’t remember +anything.” Then, seeing the look of amazement on our faces, she said, +turning from one to the other with a troubled look:-- + +“What have I said? What have I done? I know nothing, only that I was +lying here, half asleep, and heard you say ‘go on! speak, I command you!’ +It seemed so funny to hear you order me about, as if I were a bad +child!” + +“Oh, Madam Mina,” he said, sadly, “it is proof, if proof be needed, of +how I love and honour you, when a word for your good, spoken more +earnest than ever, can seem so strange because it is to order her whom I +am proud to obey!” + +The whistles are sounding; we are nearing Galatz. We are on fire with +anxiety and eagerness. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_30 October._--Mr. Morris took me to the hotel where our rooms had been +ordered by telegraph, he being the one who could best be spared, since +he does not speak any foreign language. The forces were distributed +much as they had been at Varna, except that Lord Godalming went to the +Vice-Consul, as his rank might serve as an immediate guarantee of some +sort to the official, we being in extreme hurry. Jonathan and the two +doctors went to the shipping agent to learn particulars of the arrival +of the _Czarina Catherine_. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Lord Godalming has returned. The Consul is away, and the +Vice-Consul sick; so the routine work has been attended to by a clerk. +He was very obliging, and offered to do anything in his power. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_30 October._--At nine o’clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Seward, and I called +on Messrs. Mackenzie & Steinkoff, the agents of the London firm of +Hapgood. They had received a wire from London, in answer to Lord +Godalming’s telegraphed request, asking us to show them any civility in +their power. They were more than kind and courteous, and took us at once +on board the _Czarina Catherine_, which lay at anchor out in the river +harbour. There we saw the Captain, Donelson by name, who told us of his +voyage. He said that in all his life he had never had so favourable a +run. + +“Man!” he said, “but it made us afeard, for we expeckit that we should +have to pay for it wi’ some rare piece o’ ill luck, so as to keep up the +average. It’s no canny to run frae London to the Black Sea wi’ a wind +ahint ye, as though the Deil himself were blawin’ on yer sail for his +ain purpose. An’ a’ the time we could no speer a thing. Gin we were nigh +a ship, or a port, or a headland, a fog fell on us and travelled wi’ us, +till when after it had lifted and we looked out, the deil a thing could +we see. We ran by Gibraltar wi’oot bein’ able to signal; an’ till we +came to the Dardanelles and had to wait to get our permit to pass, we +never were within hail o’ aught. At first I inclined to slack off sail +and beat about till the fog was lifted; but whiles, I thocht that if the +Deil was minded to get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it +whether we would or no. If we had a quick voyage it would be no to our +miscredit wi’ the owners, or no hurt to our traffic; an’ the Old Mon who +had served his ain purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no +hinderin’ him.” This mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition +and commercial reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said:-- + +“Mine friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought by some; and +he know when he meet his match!” The skipper was not displeased with the +compliment, and went on:-- + +“When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumble; some o’ them, +the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box which had +been put on board by a queer lookin’ old man just before we had started +frae London. I had seen them speer at the fellow, and put out their twa +fingers when they saw him, to guard against the evil eye. Man! but the +supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly rideeculous! I sent them aboot +their business pretty quick; but as just after a fog closed in on us I +felt a wee bit as they did anent something, though I wouldn’t say it was +agin the big box. Well, on we went, and as the fog didn’t let up for +five days I joost let the wind carry us; for if the Deil wanted to get +somewheres--well, he would fetch it up a’reet. An’ if he didn’t, well, +we’d keep a sharp lookout anyhow. Sure eneuch, we had a fair way and +deep water all the time; and two days ago, when the mornin’ sun came +through the fog, we found ourselves just in the river opposite Galatz. +The Roumanians were wild, and wanted me right or wrong to take out the +box and fling it in the river. I had to argy wi’ them aboot it wi’ a +handspike; an’ when the last o’ them rose off the deck wi’ his head in +his hand, I had convinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the +property and the trust of my owners were better in my hands than in the +river Danube. They had, mind ye, taken the box on the deck ready to +fling in, and as it was marked Galatz _via_ Varna, I thocht I’d let it +lie till we discharged in the port an’ get rid o’t althegither. We +didn’t do much clearin’ that day, an’ had to remain the nicht at anchor; +but in the mornin’, braw an’ airly, an hour before sun-up, a man came +aboard wi’ an order, written to him from England, to receive a box +marked for one Count Dracula. Sure eneuch the matter was one ready to +his hand. He had his papers a’ reet, an’ glad I was to be rid o’ the +dam’ thing, for I was beginnin’ masel’ to feel uneasy at it. If the Deil +did have any luggage aboord the ship, I’m thinkin’ it was nane ither +than that same!” + +“What was the name of the man who took it?” asked Dr. Van Helsing with +restrained eagerness. + +“I’ll be tellin’ ye quick!” he answered, and, stepping down to his +cabin, produced a receipt signed “Immanuel Hildesheim.” Burgen-strasse +16 was the address. We found out that this was all the Captain knew; so +with thanks we came away. + +We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the Adelphi +Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fez. His arguments were +pointed with specie--we doing the punctuation--and with a little +bargaining he told us what he knew. This turned out to be simple but +important. He had received a letter from Mr. de Ville of London, telling +him to receive, if possible before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a box +which would arrive at Galatz in the _Czarina Catherine_. This he was to +give in charge to a certain Petrof Skinsky, who dealt with the Slovaks +who traded down the river to the port. He had been paid for his work by +an English bank note, which had been duly cashed for gold at the Danube +International Bank. When Skinsky had come to him, he had taken him to +the ship and handed over the box, so as to save porterage. That was all +he knew. + +We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him. One of his +neighbours, who did not seem to bear him any affection, said that he had +gone away two days before, no one knew whither. This was corroborated by +his landlord, who had received by messenger the key of the house +together with the rent due, in English money. This had been between ten +and eleven o’clock last night. We were at a standstill again. + +Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly gasped out that +the body of Skinsky had been found inside the wall of the churchyard of +St. Peter, and that the throat had been torn open as if by some wild +animal. Those we had been speaking with ran off to see the horror, the +women crying out “This is the work of a Slovak!” We hurried away lest we +should have been in some way drawn into the affair, and so detained. + +As we came home we could arrive at no definite conclusion. We were all +convinced that the box was on its way, by water, to somewhere; but where +that might be we would have to discover. With heavy hearts we came home +to the hotel to Mina. + +When we met together, the first thing was to consult as to taking Mina +again into our confidence. Things are getting desperate, and it is at +least a chance, though a hazardous one. As a preliminary step, I was +released from my promise to her. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_30 October, evening._--They were so tired and worn out and dispirited +that there was nothing to be done till they had some rest; so I asked +them all to lie down for half an hour whilst I should enter everything +up to the moment. I feel so grateful to the man who invented the +“Traveller’s” typewriter, and to Mr. Morris for getting this one for +me. I should have felt quite astray doing the work if I had to write +with a pen.... + +It is all done; poor dear, dear Jonathan, what he must have suffered, +what must he be suffering now. He lies on the sofa hardly seeming to +breathe, and his whole body appears in collapse. His brows are knit; his +face is drawn with pain. Poor fellow, maybe he is thinking, and I can +see his face all wrinkled up with the concentration of his thoughts. Oh! +if I could only help at all.... I shall do what I can. + +I have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the papers that I +have not yet seen.... Whilst they are resting, I shall go over all +carefully, and perhaps I may arrive at some conclusion. I shall try to +follow the Professor’s example, and think without prejudice on the facts +before me.... + + * * * * * + +I do believe that under God’s providence I have made a discovery. I +shall get the maps and look over them.... + + * * * * * + +I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion is ready, so +I shall get our party together and read it. They can judge it; it is +well to be accurate, and every minute is precious. + + +_Mina Harker’s Memorandum._ + +(Entered in her Journal.) + +_Ground of inquiry._--Count Dracula’s problem is to get back to his own +place. + +(_a_) He must be _brought back_ by some one. This is evident; for had he +power to move himself as he wished he could go either as man, or wolf, +or bat, or in some other way. He evidently fears discovery or +interference, in the state of helplessness in which he must be--confined +as he is between dawn and sunset in his wooden box. + +(_b_) _How is he to be taken?_--Here a process of exclusions may help +us. By road, by rail, by water? + +1. _By Road._--There are endless difficulties, especially in leaving the +city. + +(_x_) There are people; and people are curious, and investigate. A hint, +a surmise, a doubt as to what might be in the box, would destroy him. + +(_y_) There are, or there may be, customs and octroi officers to pass. + +(_z_) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear; and in order +to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so far as he can, even +his victim--me! + +2. _By Rail._--There is no one in charge of the box. It would have to +take its chance of being delayed; and delay would be fatal, with enemies +on the track. True, he might escape at night; but what would he be, if +left in a strange place with no refuge that he could fly to? This is not +what he intends; and he does not mean to risk it. + +3. _By Water._--Here is the safest way, in one respect, but with most +danger in another. On the water he is powerless except at night; even +then he can only summon fog and storm and snow and his wolves. But were +he wrecked, the living water would engulf him, helpless; and he would +indeed be lost. He could have the vessel drive to land; but if it were +unfriendly land, wherein he was not free to move, his position would +still be desperate. + +We know from the record that he was on the water; so what we have to do +is to ascertain _what_ water. + +The first thing is to realise exactly what he has done as yet; we may, +then, get a light on what his later task is to be. + +_Firstly._--We must differentiate between what he did in London as part +of his general plan of action, when he was pressed for moments and had +to arrange as best he could. + +_Secondly_ we must see, as well as we can surmise it from the facts we +know of, what he has done here. + +As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz, and sent +invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascertain his means of +exit from England; his immediate and sole purpose then was to escape. +The proof of this, is the letter of instructions sent to Immanuel +Hildesheim to clear and take away the box _before sunrise_. There is +also the instruction to Petrof Skinsky. These we must only guess at; but +there must have been some letter or message, since Skinsky came to +Hildesheim. + +That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The _Czarina Catherine_ +made a phenomenally quick journey--so much so that Captain Donelson’s +suspicions were aroused; but his superstition united with his canniness +played the Count’s game for him, and he ran with his favouring wind +through fogs and all till he brought up blindfold at Galatz. That the +Count’s arrangements were well made, has been proved. Hildesheim cleared +the box, took it off, and gave it to Skinsky. Skinsky took it--and here +we lose the trail. We only know that the box is somewhere on the water, +moving along. The customs and the octroi, if there be any, have been +avoided. + +Now we come to what the Count must have done after his arrival--_on +land_, at Galatz. + +The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise the Count could +appear in his own form. Here, we ask why Skinsky was chosen at all to +aid in the work? In my husband’s diary, Skinsky is mentioned as dealing +with the Slovaks who trade down the river to the port; and the man’s +remark, that the murder was the work of a Slovak, showed the general +feeling against his class. The Count wanted isolation. + +My surmise is, this: that in London the Count decided to get back to his +castle by water, as the most safe and secret way. He was brought from +the castle by Szgany, and probably they delivered their cargo to Slovaks +who took the boxes to Varna, for there they were shipped for London. +Thus the Count had knowledge of the persons who could arrange this +service. When the box was on land, before sunrise or after sunset, he +came out from his box, met Skinsky and instructed him what to do as to +arranging the carriage of the box up some river. When this was done, and +he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his traces, as he thought, +by murdering his agent. + +I have examined the map and find that the river most suitable for the +Slovaks to have ascended is either the Pruth or the Sereth. I read in +the typescript that in my trance I heard cows low and water swirling +level with my ears and the creaking of wood. The Count in his box, then, +was on a river in an open boat--propelled probably either by oars or +poles, for the banks are near and it is working against stream. There +would be no such sound if floating down stream. + +Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth, but we may +possibly investigate further. Now of these two, the Pruth is the more +easily navigated, but the Sereth is, at Fundu, joined by the Bistritza +which runs up round the Borgo Pass. The loop it makes is manifestly as +close to Dracula’s castle as can be got by water. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal--continued._ + +When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms and kissed me. The +others kept shaking me by both hands, and Dr. Van Helsing said:-- + +“Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her eyes have been where +we were blinded. Now we are on the track once again, and this time we +may succeed. Our enemy is at his most helpless; and if we can come on +him by day, on the water, our task will be over. He has a start, but he +is powerless to hasten, as he may not leave his box lest those who carry +him may suspect; for them to suspect would be to prompt them to throw +him in the stream where he perish. This he knows, and will not. Now men, +to our Council of War; for, here and now, we must plan what each and all +shall do.” + +“I shall get a steam launch and follow him,” said Lord Godalming. + +“And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land,” said Mr. +Morris. + +“Good!” said the Professor, “both good. But neither must go alone. There +must be force to overcome force if need be; the Slovak is strong and +rough, and he carries rude arms.” All the men smiled, for amongst them +they carried a small arsenal. Said Mr. Morris:-- + +“I have brought some Winchesters; they are pretty handy in a crowd, and +there may be wolves. The Count, if you remember, took some other +precautions; he made some requisitions on others that Mrs. Harker could +not quite hear or understand. We must be ready at all points.” Dr. +Seward said:-- + +“I think I had better go with Quincey. We have been accustomed to hunt +together, and we two, well armed, will be a match for whatever may come +along. You must not be alone, Art. It may be necessary to fight the +Slovaks, and a chance thrust--for I don’t suppose these fellows carry +guns--would undo all our plans. There must be no chances, this time; we +shall not rest until the Count’s head and body have been separated, and +we are sure that he cannot re-incarnate.” He looked at Jonathan as he +spoke, and Jonathan looked at me. I could see that the poor dear was +torn about in his mind. Of course he wanted to be with me; but then the +boat service would, most likely, be the one which would destroy the ... +the ... the ... Vampire. (Why did I hesitate to write the word?) He was +silent awhile, and during his silence Dr. Van Helsing spoke:-- + +“Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons. First, because you +are young and brave and can fight, and all energies may be needed at the +last; and again that it is your right to destroy him--that--which has +wrought such woe to you and yours. Be not afraid for Madam Mina; she +will be my care, if I may. I am old. My legs are not so quick to run as +once; and I am not used to ride so long or to pursue as need be, or to +fight with lethal weapons. But I can be of other service; I can fight in +other way. And I can die, if need be, as well as younger men. Now let +me say that what I would is this: while you, my Lord Godalming and +friend Jonathan go in your so swift little steamboat up the river, and +whilst John and Quincey guard the bank where perchance he might be +landed, I will take Madam Mina right into the heart of the enemy’s +country. Whilst the old fox is tied in his box, floating on the running +stream whence he cannot escape to land--where he dares not raise the lid +of his coffin-box lest his Slovak carriers should in fear leave him to +perish--we shall go in the track where Jonathan went,--from Bistritz +over the Borgo, and find our way to the Castle of Dracula. Here, Madam +Mina’s hypnotic power will surely help, and we shall find our way--all +dark and unknown otherwise--after the first sunrise when we are near +that fateful place. There is much to be done, and other places to be +made sanctify, so that that nest of vipers be obliterated.” Here +Jonathan interrupted him hotly:-- + +“Do you mean to say, Professor Van Helsing, that you would bring Mina, +in her sad case and tainted as she is with that devil’s illness, right +into the jaws of his death-trap? Not for the world! Not for Heaven or +Hell!” He became almost speechless for a minute, and then went on:-- + +“Do you know what the place is? Have you seen that awful den of hellish +infamy--with the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes, and every +speck of dust that whirls in the wind a devouring monster in embryo? +Have you felt the Vampire’s lips upon your throat?” Here he turned to +me, and as his eyes lit on my forehead he threw up his arms with a cry: +“Oh, my God, what have we done to have this terror upon us!” and he sank +down on the sofa in a collapse of misery. The Professor’s voice, as he +spoke in clear, sweet tones, which seemed to vibrate in the air, calmed +us all:-- + +“Oh, my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina from that awful +place that I would go. God forbid that I should take her into that +place. There is work--wild work--to be done there, that her eyes may not +see. We men here, all save Jonathan, have seen with their own eyes what +is to be done before that place can be purify. Remember that we are in +terrible straits. If the Count escape us this time--and he is strong and +subtle and cunning--he may choose to sleep him for a century, and then +in time our dear one”--he took my hand--“would come to him to keep him +company, and would be as those others that you, Jonathan, saw. You have +told us of their gloating lips; you heard their ribald laugh as they +clutched the moving bag that the Count threw to them. You shudder; and +well may it be. Forgive me that I make you so much pain, but it is +necessary. My friend, is it not a dire need for the which I am giving, +possibly my life? If it were that any one went into that place to stay, +it is I who would have to go to keep them company.” + +“Do as you will,” said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him all over, “we +are in the hands of God!” + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave men worked. +How can women help loving men when they are so earnest, and so true, and +so brave! And, too, it made me think of the wonderful power of money! +What can it not do when it is properly applied; and what might it do +when basely used. I felt so thankful that Lord Godalming is rich, and +that both he and Mr. Morris, who also has plenty of money, are willing +to spend it so freely. For if they did not, our little expedition could +not start, either so promptly or so well equipped, as it will within +another hour. It is not three hours since it was arranged what part each +of us was to do; and now Lord Godalming and Jonathan have a lovely steam +launch, with steam up ready to start at a moment’s notice. Dr. Seward +and Mr. Morris have half a dozen good horses, well appointed. We have +all the maps and appliances of various kinds that can be had. Professor +Van Helsing and I are to leave by the 11:40 train to-night for Veresti, +where we are to get a carriage to drive to the Borgo Pass. We are +bringing a good deal of ready money, as we are to buy a carriage and +horses. We shall drive ourselves, for we have no one whom we can trust +in the matter. The Professor knows something of a great many languages, +so we shall get on all right. We have all got arms, even for me a +large-bore revolver; Jonathan would not be happy unless I was armed like +the rest. Alas! I cannot carry one arm that the rest do; the scar on my +forehead forbids that. Dear Dr. Van Helsing comforts me by telling me +that I am fully armed as there may be wolves; the weather is getting +colder every hour, and there are snow-flurries which come and go as +warnings. + + * * * * * + +_Later._--It took all my courage to say good-bye to my darling. We may +never meet again. Courage, Mina! the Professor is looking at you keenly; +his look is a warning. There must be no tears now--unless it may be that +God will let them fall in gladness. + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_October 30. Night._--I am writing this in the light from the furnace +door of the steam launch: Lord Godalming is firing up. He is an +experienced hand at the work, as he has had for years a launch of his +own on the Thames, and another on the Norfolk Broads. Regarding our +plans, we finally decided that Mina’s guess was correct, and that if any +waterway was chosen for the Count’s escape back to his Castle, the +Sereth and then the Bistritza at its junction, would be the one. We took +it, that somewhere about the 47th degree, north latitude, would be the +place chosen for the crossing the country between the river and the +Carpathians. We have no fear in running at good speed up the river at +night; there is plenty of water, and the banks are wide enough apart to +make steaming, even in the dark, easy enough. Lord Godalming tells me to +sleep for a while, as it is enough for the present for one to be on +watch. But I cannot sleep--how can I with the terrible danger hanging +over my darling, and her going out into that awful place.... My only +comfort is that we are in the hands of God. Only for that faith it would +be easier to die than to live, and so be quit of all the trouble. Mr. +Morris and Dr. Seward were off on their long ride before we started; +they are to keep up the right bank, far enough off to get on higher +lands where they can see a good stretch of river and avoid the following +of its curves. They have, for the first stages, two men to ride and lead +their spare horses--four in all, so as not to excite curiosity. When +they dismiss the men, which shall be shortly, they shall themselves look +after the horses. It may be necessary for us to join forces; if so they +can mount our whole party. One of the saddles has a movable horn, and +can be easily adapted for Mina, if required. + +It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing along through +the darkness, with the cold from the river seeming to rise up and strike +us; with all the mysterious voices of the night around us, it all comes +home. We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways; into +a whole world of dark and dreadful things. Godalming is shutting the +furnace door.... + + * * * * * + +_31 October._--Still hurrying along. The day has come, and Godalming is +sleeping. I am on watch. The morning is bitterly cold; the furnace heat +is grateful, though we have heavy fur coats. As yet we have passed only +a few open boats, but none of them had on board any box or package of +anything like the size of the one we seek. The men were scared every +time we turned our electric lamp on them, and fell on their knees and +prayed. + + * * * * * + +_1 November, evening._--No news all day; we have found nothing of the +kind we seek. We have now passed into the Bistritza; and if we are wrong +in our surmise our chance is gone. We have over-hauled every boat, big +and little. Early this morning, one crew took us for a Government boat, +and treated us accordingly. We saw in this a way of smoothing matters, +so at Fundu, where the Bistritza runs into the Sereth, we got a +Roumanian flag which we now fly conspicuously. With every boat which we +have over-hauled since then this trick has succeeded; we have had every +deference shown to us, and not once any objection to whatever we chose +to ask or do. Some of the Slovaks tell us that a big boat passed them, +going at more than usual speed as she had a double crew on board. This +was before they came to Fundu, so they could not tell us whether the +boat turned into the Bistritza or continued on up the Sereth. At Fundu +we could not hear of any such boat, so she must have passed there in the +night. I am feeling very sleepy; the cold is perhaps beginning to tell +upon me, and nature must have rest some time. Godalming insists that he +shall keep the first watch. God bless him for all his goodness to poor +dear Mina and me. + + * * * * * + +_2 November, morning._--It is broad daylight. That good fellow would not +wake me. He says it would have been a sin to, for I slept peacefully and +was forgetting my trouble. It seems brutally selfish to me to have slept +so long, and let him watch all night; but he was quite right. I am a new +man this morning; and, as I sit here and watch him sleeping, I can do +all that is necessary both as to minding the engine, steering, and +keeping watch. I can feel that my strength and energy are coming back to +me. I wonder where Mina is now, and Van Helsing. They should have got to +Veresti about noon on Wednesday. It would take them some time to get the +carriage and horses; so if they had started and travelled hard, they +would be about now at the Borgo Pass. God guide and help them! I am +afraid to think what may happen. If we could only go faster! but we +cannot; the engines are throbbing and doing their utmost. I wonder how +Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris are getting on. There seem to be endless +streams running down the mountains into this river, but as none of them +are very large--at present, at all events, though they are terrible +doubtless in winter and when the snow melts--the horsemen may not have +met much obstruction. I hope that before we get to Strasba we may see +them; for if by that time we have not overtaken the Count, it may be +necessary to take counsel together what to do next. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_2 November._--Three days on the road. No news, and no time to write it +if there had been, for every moment is precious. We have had only the +rest needful for the horses; but we are both bearing it wonderfully. +Those adventurous days of ours are turning up useful. We must push on; +we shall never feel happy till we get the launch in sight again. + + * * * * * + +_3 November._--We heard at Fundu that the launch had gone up the +Bistritza. I wish it wasn’t so cold. There are signs of snow coming; and +if it falls heavy it will stop us. In such case we must get a sledge and +go on, Russian fashion. + + * * * * * + +_4 November._--To-day we heard of the launch having been detained by an +accident when trying to force a way up the rapids. The Slovak boats get +up all right, by aid of a rope and steering with knowledge. Some went up +only a few hours before. Godalming is an amateur fitter himself, and +evidently it was he who put the launch in trim again. Finally, they got +up the rapids all right, with local help, and are off on the chase +afresh. I fear that the boat is not any better for the accident; the +peasantry tell us that after she got upon smooth water again, she kept +stopping every now and again so long as she was in sight. We must push +on harder than ever; our help may be wanted soon. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_31 October._--Arrived at Veresti at noon. The Professor tells me that +this morning at dawn he could hardly hypnotise me at all, and that all I +could say was: “dark and quiet.” He is off now buying a carriage and +horses. He says that he will later on try to buy additional horses, so +that we may be able to change them on the way. We have something more +than 70 miles before us. The country is lovely, and most interesting; if +only we were under different conditions, how delightful it would be to +see it all. If Jonathan and I were driving through it alone what a +pleasure it would be. To stop and see people, and learn something of +their life, and to fill our minds and memories with all the colour and +picturesqueness of the whole wild, beautiful country and the quaint +people! But, alas!-- + + * * * * * + +_Later._--Dr. Van Helsing has returned. He has got the carriage and +horses; we are to have some dinner, and to start in an hour. The +landlady is putting us up a huge basket of provisions; it seems enough +for a company of soldiers. The Professor encourages her, and whispers to +me that it may be a week before we can get any good food again. He has +been shopping too, and has sent home such a wonderful lot of fur coats +and wraps, and all sorts of warm things. There will not be any chance of +our being cold. + + * * * * * + +We shall soon be off. I am afraid to think what may happen to us. We are +truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may be, and I pray Him, +with all the strength of my sad and humble soul, that He will watch over +my beloved husband; that whatever may happen, Jonathan may know that I +loved him and honoured him more than I can say, and that my latest and +truest thought will be always for him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL + + +_1 November._--All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed. The +horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they go +willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many +changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged to +think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is laconic; +he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and pays them well +to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or coffee, or tea; and +off we go. It is a lovely country; full of beauties of all imaginable +kinds, and the people are brave, and strong, and simple, and seem full +of nice qualities. They are _very, very_ superstitious. In the first +house where we stopped, when the woman who served us saw the scar on my +forehead, she crossed herself and put out two fingers towards me, to +keep off the evil eye. I believe they went to the trouble of putting an +extra amount of garlic into our food; and I can’t abide garlic. Ever +since then I have taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and so have +escaped their suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as we have no +driver with us to carry tales, we go ahead of scandal; but I daresay +that fear of the evil eye will follow hard behind us all the way. The +Professor seems tireless; all day he would not take any rest, though he +made me sleep for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotised me, and he +says that I answered as usual “darkness, lapping water and creaking +wood”; so our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of +Jonathan, but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself. I write +this whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be got ready. Dr. +Van Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired and old and +grey, but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror’s; even in his sleep +he is instinct with resolution. When we have well started I must make +him rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have days before us, +and we must not break down when most of all his strength will be +needed.... All is ready; we are off shortly. + + * * * * * + +_2 November, morning._--I was successful, and we took turns driving all +night; now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a strange +heaviness in the air--I say heaviness for want of a better word; I mean +that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only our warm furs keep +us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotised me; he says I answered +“darkness, creaking wood and roaring water,” so the river is changing as +they ascend. I do hope that my darling will not run any chance of +danger--more than need be; but we are in God’s hands. + + * * * * * + +_2 November, night._--All day long driving. The country gets wilder as +we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed +so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round us +and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits; I think we make an +effort each to cheer the other; in the doing so we cheer ourselves. Dr. +Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass. The +houses are very few here now, and the Professor says that the last horse +we got will have to go on with us, as we may not be able to change. He +got two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we have a rude +four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and they give us no +trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, and so even I can +drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight; we do not want to arrive +before. So we take it easy, and have each a long rest in turn. Oh, what +will to-morrow bring to us? We go to seek the place where my poor +darling suffered so much. God grant that we may be guided aright, and +that He will deign to watch over my husband and those dear to us both, +and who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not worthy in His +sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until He may deign +to let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who have not incurred +His wrath. + + +_Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing._ + +_4 November._--This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.D., of +Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may explain. It is +morning, and I write by a fire which all the night I have kept +alive--Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold; so cold that the grey +heavy sky is full of snow, which when it falls will settle for all +winter as the ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have +affected Madam Mina; she has been so heavy of head all day that she was +not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She who is usual +so alert, have done literally nothing all the day; she even have lost +her appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she who write so +faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all is not well. +However, to-night she is more _vif_. Her long sleep all day have refresh +and restore her, for now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sunset +I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no effect; the power has grown +less and less with each day, and to-night it fail me altogether. Well, +God’s will be done--whatever it may be, and whithersoever it may lead! + +Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her stenography, I +must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each day of us may not go +unrecorded. + +We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday morning. When I +saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the hypnotism. We stopped our +carriage, and got down so that there might be no disturbance. I made a +couch with furs, and Madam Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual, but +more slow and more short time than ever, to the hypnotic sleep. As +before, came the answer: “darkness and the swirling of water.” Then she +woke, bright and radiant and we go on our way and soon reach the Pass. +At this time and place, she become all on fire with zeal; some new +guiding power be in her manifested, for she point to a road and say:-- + +“This is the way.” + +“How know you it?” I ask. + +“Of course I know it,” she answer, and with a pause, add: “Have not my +Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?” + +At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be only one +such by-road. It is used but little, and very different from the coach +road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more wide and hard, and +more of use. + +So we came down this road; when we meet other ways--not always were we +sure that they were roads at all, for they be neglect and light snow +have fallen--the horses know and they only. I give rein to them, and +they go on so patient. By-and-by we find all the things which Jonathan +have note in that wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long +hours and hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep; she try, and +she succeed. She sleep all the time; till at the last, I feel myself to +suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she sleep on, and I may +not wake her though I try. I do not wish to try too hard lest I harm +her; for I know that she have suffer much, and sleep at times be +all-in-all to her. I think I drowse myself, for all of sudden I feel +guilt, as though I have done something; I find myself bolt up, with the +reins in my hand, and the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever. I +look down and find Madam Mina still sleep. It is now not far off sunset +time, and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood, +so that we throw great long shadow on where the mountain rise so steep. +For we are going up, and up; and all is oh! so wild and rocky, as though +it were the end of the world. + +Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much trouble, and +then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she sleep not, being as +though I were not. Still I try and try, till all at once I find her and +myself in dark; so I look round, and find that the sun have gone down. +Madam Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her. She is now quite awake, +and look so well as I never saw her since that night at Carfax when we +first enter the Count’s house. I am amaze, and not at ease then; but she +is so bright and tender and thoughtful for me that I forget all fear. I +light a fire, for we have brought supply of wood with us, and she +prepare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered in shelter, +to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my supper ready. I go +to help her; but she smile, and tell me that she have eat already--that +she was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have +grave doubts; but I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. She +help me and I eat alone; and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the +fire, and I tell her to sleep while I watch. But presently I forget all +of watching; and when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her lying +quiet, but awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes. Once, twice +more the same occur, and I get much sleep till before morning. When I +wake I try to hypnotise her; but alas! though she shut her eyes +obedient, she may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up; and then +sleep come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. I have +to lift her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when I have +harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep, and she look +in her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like it +not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid!--I am afraid of all things--even +to think but I must go on my way. The stake we play for is life and +death, or more than these, and we must not flinch. + + * * * * * + +_5 November, morning._--Let me be accurate in everything, for though you +and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think +that I, Van Helsing, am mad--that the many horrors and the so long +strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain. + +All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, and +moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great, +frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seem to have held +sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still sleep and sleep; and though I +did have hunger and appeased it, I could not waken her--even for food. I +began to fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon her, tainted as +she is with that Vampire baptism. “Well,” said I to myself, “if it be +that she sleep all the day, it shall also be that I do not sleep at +night.” As we travel on the rough road, for a road of an ancient and +imperfect kind there was, I held down my head and slept. Again I waked +with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and found Madam Mina still +sleeping, and the sun low down. But all was indeed changed; the frowning +mountains seemed further away, and we were near the top of a +steep-rising hill, on summit of which was such a castle as Jonathan tell +of in his diary. At once I exulted and feared; for now, for good or ill, +the end was near. + +I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotise her; but alas! +unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came upon us--for +even after down-sun the heavens reflected the gone sun on the snow, and +all was for a time in a great twilight--I took out the horses and fed +them in what shelter I could. Then I make a fire; and near it I make +Madam Mina, now awake and more charming than ever, sit comfortable amid +her rugs. I got ready food: but she would not eat, simply saying that +she had not hunger. I did not press her, knowing her unavailingness. But +I myself eat, for I must needs now be strong for all. Then, with the +fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for her comfort, round +where Madam Mina sat; and over the ring I passed some of the wafer, and +I broke it fine so that all was well guarded. She sat still all the +time--so still as one dead; and she grew whiter and ever whiter till the +snow was not more pale; and no word she said. But when I drew near, she +clung to me, and I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to +feet with a tremor that was pain to feel. I said to her presently, when +she had grown more quiet:-- + +“Will you not come over to the fire?” for I wished to make a test of +what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a step she +stopped, and stood as one stricken. + +“Why not go on?” I asked. She shook her head, and, coming back, sat +down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, as of one waked +from sleep, she said simply:-- + +“I cannot!” and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she +could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be +danger to her body, yet her soul was safe! + +Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their tethers till I +came to them and quieted them. When they did feel my hands on them, they +whinnied low as in joy, and licked at my hands and were quiet for a +time. Many times through the night did I come to them, till it arrive to +the cold hour when all nature is at lowest; and every time my coming was +with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire began to die, and I was +about stepping forth to replenish it, for now the snow came in flying +sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in the dark there was a light of +some kind, as there ever is over snow; and it seemed as though the +snow-flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of women with +trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence only that the horses +whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of the worst. I began to +fear--horrible fears; but then came to me the sense of safety in that +ring wherein I stood. I began, too, to think that my imaginings were of +the night, and the gloom, and the unrest that I have gone through, and +all the terrible anxiety. It was as though my memories of all Jonathan’s +horrid experience were befooling me; for the snow flakes and the mist +began to wheel and circle round, till I could get as though a shadowy +glimpse of those women that would have kissed him. And then the horses +cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as men do in pain. Even +the madness of fright was not to them, so that they could break away. I +feared for my dear Madam Mina when these weird figures drew near and +circled round. I looked at her, but she sat calm, and smiled at me; when +I would have stepped to the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held +me back, and whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so low +it was:-- + +“No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!” I turned to her, and +looking in her eyes, said:-- + +“But you? It is for you that I fear!” whereat she laughed--a laugh, low +and unreal, and said:-- + +“Fear for _me_! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from them +than I am,” and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a puff of +wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her forehead. +Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have learned, for the +wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer, but keeping ever without +the Holy circle. Then they began to materialise till--if God have not +take away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes--there were before me +in actual flesh the same three women that Jonathan saw in the room, when +they would have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the +bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous +lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina; and as their laugh came +through the silence of the night, they twined their arms and pointed to +her, and said in those so sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were +of the intolerable sweetness of the water-glasses:-- + +“Come, sister. Come to us. Come! Come!” In fear I turned to my poor +Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame; for oh! the +terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my +heart that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not, yet, of them. I +seized some of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some of the +Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They drew back before me, and +laughed their low horrid laugh. I fed the fire, and feared them not; for +I knew that we were safe within our protections. They could not +approach, me, whilst so armed, nor Madam Mina whilst she remained within +the ring, which she could not leave no more than they could enter. The +horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on the ground; the snow fell on +them softly, and they grew whiter. I knew that there was for the poor +beasts no more of terror. + +And so we remained till the red of the dawn to fall through the +snow-gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror; but +when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again. +At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the +whirling mist and snow; the wreaths of transparent gloom moved away +towards the castle, and were lost. + +Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina, intending +to hypnotise her; but she lay in a deep and sudden sleep, from which I +could not wake her. I tried to hypnotise through her sleep, but she made +no response, none at all; and the day broke. I fear yet to stir. I have +made my fire and have seen the horses, they are all dead. To-day I have +much to do here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up high; for there +may be places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow and mist +obscure it, will be to me a safety. + +I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will to my terrible +work. Madam Mina still sleeps; and, God be thanked! she is calm in her +sleep.... + + +_Jonathan Harker’s Journal._ + +_4 November, evening._--The accident to the launch has been a terrible +thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long ago; +and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to think of her, +off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses, and we +follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is getting ready. We +have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they mean fight. Oh, if only +Morris and Seward were with us. We must only hope! If I write no more +Good-bye, Mina! God bless and keep you. + + +_Dr. Seward’s Diary._ + +_5 November._--With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us dashing +away from the river with their leiter-wagon. They surrounded it in a +cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The snow is falling lightly +and there is a strange excitement in the air. It may be our own +feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I hear the howling of +wolves; the snow brings them down from the mountains, and there are +dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The horses are nearly ready, +and we are soon off. We ride to death of some one. God alone knows who, +or where, or what, or when, or how it may be.... + + +_Dr. Van Helsing’s Memorandum._ + +_5 November, afternoon._--I am at least sane. Thank God for that mercy +at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful. When I left +Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy circle, I took my way to the castle. +The blacksmith hammer which I took in the carriage from Veresti was +useful; though the doors were all open I broke them off the rusty +hinges, lest some ill-intent or ill-chance should close them, so that +being entered I might not get out. Jonathan’s bitter experience served +me here. By memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, for I +knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive; it seemed as if +there was some sulphurous fume, which at times made me dizzy. Either +there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar off the howl of wolves. +Then I bethought me of my dear Madam Mina, and I was in terrible plight. +The dilemma had me between his horns. + +Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe from the +Vampire in that Holy circle; and yet even there would be the wolf! I +resolve me that my work lay here, and that as to the wolves we must +submit, if it were God’s will. At any rate it was only death and +freedom beyond. So did I choose for her. Had it but been for myself the +choice had been easy, the maw of the wolf were better to rest in than +the grave of the Vampire! So I make my choice to go on with my work. + +I knew that there were at least three graves to find--graves that are +inhabit; so I search, and search, and I find one of them. She lay in her +Vampire sleep, so full of life and voluptuous beauty that I shudder as +though I have come to do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in old time, when +such things were, many a man who set forth to do such a task as mine, +found at the last his heart fail him, and then his nerve. So he delay, +and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the fascination of the +wanton Un-Dead have hypnotise him; and he remain on and on, till sunset +come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then the beautiful eyes of the fair +woman open and look love, and the voluptuous mouth present to a +kiss--and man is weak. And there remain one more victim in the Vampire +fold; one more to swell the grim and grisly ranks of the Un-Dead!... + +There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere presence +of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted with age and +heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that horrid odour such +as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was moved--I, Van Helsing, +with all my purpose and with my motive for hate--I was moved to a +yearning for delay which seemed to paralyse my faculties and to clog my +very soul. It may have been that the need of natural sleep, and the +strange oppression of the air were beginning to overcome me. Certain it +was that I was lapsing into sleep, the open-eyed sleep of one who yields +to a sweet fascination, when there came through the snow-stilled air a +long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that it woke me like the sound +of a clarion. For it was the voice of my dear Madam Mina that I heard. + +Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by wrenching +away tomb-tops one other of the sisters, the other dark one. I dared not +pause to look on her as I had on her sister, lest once more I should +begin to be enthrall; but I go on searching until, presently, I find in +a high great tomb as if made to one much beloved that other fair sister +which, like Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of +the mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so +exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me, which calls +some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, made my head whirl +with new emotion. But God be thanked, that soul-wail of my dear Madam +Mina had not died out of my ears; and, before the spell could be wrought +further upon me, I had nerved myself to my wild work. By this time I had +searched all the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell; and as +there had been only three of these Un-Dead phantoms around us in the +night, I took it that there were no more of active Un-Dead existent. +There was one great tomb more lordly than all the rest; huge it was, and +nobly proportioned. On it was but one word + + DRACULA. + +This then was the Un-Dead home of the King-Vampire, to whom so many more +were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to make certain what I knew. +Before I began to restore these women to their dead selves through my +awful work, I laid in Dracula’s tomb some of the Wafer, and so banished +him from it, Un-Dead, for ever. + +Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been but one, it +had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin twice more after I had +been through a deed of horror; for if it was terrible with the sweet +Miss Lucy, what would it not be with these strange ones who had survived +through centuries, and who had been strengthened by the passing of the +years; who would, if they could, have fought for their foul lives.... + +Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work; had I not been nerved by +thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom hung such a pall of +fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble and tremble even yet, though +till all was over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I not seen +the repose in the first place, and the gladness that stole over it just +ere the final dissolution came, as realisation that the soul had been +won, I could not have gone further with my butchery. I could not have +endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove home; the plunging of +writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I should have fled in terror and +left my work undone. But it is over! And the poor souls, I can pity them +now and weep, as I think of them placid each in her full sleep of death +for a short moment ere fading. For, friend John, hardly had my knife +severed the head of each, before the whole body began to melt away and +crumble in to its native dust, as though the death that should have come +centuries agone had at last assert himself and say at once and loud “I +am here!” + +Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can +the Count enter there Un-Dead. + +When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she woke from her +sleep, and, seeing, me, cried out in pain that I had endured too much. + +“Come!” she said, “come away from this awful place! Let us go to meet my +husband who is, I know, coming towards us.” She was looking thin and +pale and weak; but her eyes were pure and glowed with fervour. I was +glad to see her paleness and her illness, for my mind was full of the +fresh horror of that ruddy vampire sleep. + +And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go eastward to meet +our friends--and _him_--whom Madam Mina tell me that she _know_ are +coming to meet us. + + +_Mina Harker’s Journal._ + +_6 November._--It was late in the afternoon when the Professor and I +took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was coming. We did +not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill, for we had to take +heavy rugs and wraps with us; we dared not face the possibility of being +left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to take some of our +provisions, too, for we were in a perfect desolation, and, so far as we +could see through the snowfall, there was not even the sign of +habitation. When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with the heavy +walking and sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw where the +clear line of Dracula’s castle cut the sky; for we were so deep under +the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the +Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur, +perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer precipice, and with +seemingly a great gap between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain +on any side. There was something wild and uncanny about the place. We +could hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but the +sound, even though coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was +full of terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about +that he was trying to seek some strategic point, where we would be less +exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led downwards; we +could trace it through the drifted snow. + +In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and joined +him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow in a rock, +with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders. He took me by the +hand and drew me in: “See!” he said, “here you will be in shelter; and +if the wolves do come I can meet them one by one.” He brought in our +furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out some provisions and +forced them upon me. But I could not eat; to even try to do so was +repulsive to me, and, much as I would have liked to please him, I could +not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very sad, but did not +reproach me. Taking his field-glasses from the case, he stood on the top +of the rock, and began to search the horizon. Suddenly he called out:-- + +“Look! Madam Mina, look! look!” I sprang up and stood beside him on the +rock; he handed me his glasses and pointed. The snow was now falling +more heavily, and swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning +to blow. However, there were times when there were pauses between the +snow flurries and I could see a long way round. From the height where we +were it was possible to see a great distance; and far off, beyond the +white waste of snow, I could see the river lying like a black ribbon in +kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight in front of us and not far +off--in fact, so near that I wondered we had not noticed before--came a +group of mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of them was a cart, a +long leiter-wagon which swept from side to side, like a dog’s tail +wagging, with each stern inequality of the road. Outlined against the +snow as they were, I could see from the men’s clothes that they were +peasants or gypsies of some kind. + +On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw it, for I +felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing close, and +well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then imprisoned +there, would take new freedom and could in any of many forms elude all +pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor; to my consternation, +however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw him below me. Round +the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had found shelter in last +night. When he had completed it he stood beside me again, saying:-- + +“At least you shall be safe here from _him_!” He took the glasses from +me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below us. +“See,” he said, “they come quickly; they are flogging the horses, and +galloping as hard as they can.” He paused and went on in a hollow +voice:-- + +“They are racing for the sunset. We may be too late. God’s will be +done!” Down came another blinding rush of driving snow, and the whole +landscape was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and once more his +glasses were fixed on the plain. Then came a sudden cry:-- + +“Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow fast, coming up from the +south. It must be Quincey and John. Take the glass. Look before the snow +blots it all out!” I took it and looked. The two men might be Dr. Seward +and Mr. Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was Jonathan. +At the same time I _knew_ that Jonathan was not far off; looking around +I saw on the north side of the coming party two other men, riding at +break-neck speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, +of course, to be Lord Godalming. They, too, were pursuing the party with +the cart. When I told the Professor he shouted in glee like a schoolboy, +and, after looking intently till a snow fall made sight impossible, he +laid his Winchester rifle ready for use against the boulder at the +opening of our shelter. “They are all converging,” he said. “When the +time comes we shall have gypsies on all sides.” I got out my revolver +ready to hand, for whilst we were speaking the howling of wolves came +louder and closer. When the snow storm abated a moment we looked again. +It was strange to see the snow falling in such heavy flakes close to us, +and beyond, the sun shining more and more brightly as it sank down +towards the far mountain tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could +see here and there dots moving singly and in twos and threes and larger +numbers--the wolves were gathering for their prey. + +Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came now in +fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept upon us in +circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm’s length before us; +but at others, as the hollow-sounding wind swept by us, it seemed to +clear the air-space around us so that we could see afar off. We had of +late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that we knew +with fair accuracy when it would be; and we knew that before long the +sun would set. It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less +than an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the various +bodies began to converge close upon us. The wind came now with fiercer +and more bitter sweeps, and more steadily from the north. It seemingly +had driven the snow clouds from us, for, with only occasional bursts, +the snow fell. We could distinguish clearly the individuals of each +party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued did +not seem to realise, or at least to care, that they were pursued; they +seemed, however, to hasten with redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower +and lower on the mountain tops. + +Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down behind +our rock, and held our weapons ready; I could see that he was determined +that they should not pass. One and all were quite unaware of our +presence. + +All at once two voices shouted out to: “Halt!” One was my Jonathan’s, +raised in a high key of passion; the other Mr. Morris’ strong resolute +tone of quiet command. The gypsies may not have known the language, but +there was no mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the words were +spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant Lord Godalming +and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the +other. The leader of the gypsies, a splendid-looking fellow who sat his +horse like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce voice gave to his +companions some word to proceed. They lashed the horses which sprang +forward; but the four men raised their Winchester rifles, and in an +unmistakable way commanded them to stop. At the same moment Dr. Van +Helsing and I rose behind the rock and pointed our weapons at them. +Seeing that they were surrounded the men tightened their reins and drew +up. The leader turned to them and gave a word at which every man of the +gypsy party drew what weapon he carried, knife or pistol, and held +himself in readiness to attack. Issue was joined in an instant. + +The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse out in +front, and pointing first to the sun--now close down on the hill +tops--and then to the castle, said something which I did not understand. +For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves from their horses +and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt terrible fear at seeing +Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardour of battle must have been +upon me as well as the rest of them; I felt no fear, but only a wild, +surging desire to do something. Seeing the quick movement of our +parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a command; his men instantly +formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined endeavour, each one +shouldering and pushing the other in his eagerness to carry out the +order. + +In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the ring +of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the cart; it was +evident that they were bent on finishing their task before the sun +should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them. Neither the +levelled weapons nor the flashing knives of the gypsies in front, nor +the howling of the wolves behind, appeared to even attract their +attention. Jonathan’s impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his +purpose, seemed to overawe those in front of him; instinctively they +cowered, aside and let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the +cart, and, with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the great +box, and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. +Morris had had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of +Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, +with the tail of my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and had +seen the knives of the gypsies flash as he won a way through them, and +they cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first +I thought that he too had come through in safety; but as he sprang +beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see that +with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the blood was +spurting through his fingers. He did not delay notwithstanding this, for +as Jonathan, with desperate energy, attacked one end of the chest, +attempting to prize off the lid with his great Kukri knife, he attacked +the other frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men the +lid began to yield; the nails drew with a quick screeching sound, and +the top of the box was thrown back. + +By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the Winchesters, +and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had given in and made +no resistance. The sun was almost down on the mountain tops, and the +shadows of the whole group fell long upon the snow. I saw the Count +lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from +the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen +image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I +knew too well. + +As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them +turned to triumph. + +But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan’s great knife. +I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the same +moment Mr. Morris’s bowie knife plunged into the heart. + +It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the +drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from +our sight. + +I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final +dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never +could have imagined might have rested there. + +The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and every stone +of its broken battlements was articulated against the light of the +setting sun. + +The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the extraordinary +disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a word, and rode away as +if for their lives. Those who were unmounted jumped upon the +leiter-wagon and shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The wolves, +which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their wake, leaving +us alone. + +Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding his +hand pressed to his side; the blood still gushed through his fingers. I +flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me back; so did the +two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man laid back his +head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a feeble effort, my hand +in that of his own which was unstained. He must have seen the anguish of +my heart in my face, for he smiled at me and said:-- + +“I am only too happy to have been of any service! Oh, God!” he cried +suddenly, struggling up to a sitting posture and pointing to me, “It was +worth for this to die! Look! look!” + +The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red gleams +fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With one impulse +the men sank on their knees and a deep and earnest “Amen” broke from all +as their eyes followed the pointing of his finger. The dying man +spoke:-- + +“Now God be thanked that all has not been in vain! See! the snow is not +more stainless than her forehead! The curse has passed away!” + +And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a +gallant gentleman. + + + + + NOTE + + +Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of +some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. It +is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy’s birthday is the same +day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know, the +secret belief that some of our brave friend’s spirit has passed into +him. His bundle of names links all our little band of men together; but +we call him Quincey. + +In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and went +over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and +terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the things +which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were +living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The +castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation. + +When we got home we were talking of the old time--which we could all +look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both happily +married. I took the papers from the safe where they had been ever since +our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact, that in all the +mass of material of which the record is composed, there is hardly one +authentic document; nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later +note-books of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing’s memorandum. +We could hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept these as +proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with +our boy on his knee:-- + +“We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will some day +know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he knows her +sweetness and loving care; later on he will understand how some men so +loved her, that they did dare much for her sake.” + +JONATHAN HARKER. + + THE END + + * * * * * + + _There’s More to Follow!_ + + More stories of the sort you like; more, probably, by the author of + this one; more than 500 titles all told by writers of world-wide + reputation, in the Authors’ Alphabetical List which you will find + on the _reverse side_ of the wrapper of this book. Look it over + before you lay it aside. There are books here you are sure to + want--some, possibly, that you have _always_ wanted. + + It is a _selected_ list; every book in it has achieved a certain + measure of _success_. + + The Grosset & Dunlap list is not only the greatest Index of Good + Fiction available, it represents in addition a generally accepted + Standard of Value. It will pay you to + + _Look on the Other Side of the Wrapper!_ + + _In case the wrapper is lost write to the publishers for a complete + catalog_ + + * * * * * + +DETECTIVE STORIES BY J. S. FLETCHER + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list + + +THE SECRET OF THE BARBICAN + +THE ANNEXATION SOCIETY + +THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB + +GREEN INK + +THE KING versus WARGRAVE + +THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE + +THE MILL OF MANY WINDOWS + +THE HEAVEN-KISSED HILL + +THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER + +RAVENSDENE COURT + +THE RAYNER-SLADE AMALGAMATION + +THE SAFETY PIN + +THE SECRET WAY + +THE VALLEY OF HEADSTRONG MEN + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK diff --git a/search-engine/books/Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus.txt b/search-engine/books/Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89dbe84 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7246 @@ +Title: Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus +Author: Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley + + FRANKENSTEIN; + + OR, + + THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + VOL. I. + + London: + + _PRINTED FOR_ + LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES, + FINSBURY SQUARE. + + 1818. + + * * * * * + + Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay + To mould me man? Did I solicit thee + From darkness to promote me?—— + + Paradise Lost. + + * * * * * + + _TO_ + WILLIAM GODWIN, + _AUTHOR OF POLITICAL JUSTICE, CALEB WILLIAMS, &c._ + THESE VOLUMES + _Are respectfully inscribed_ + BY + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The event on which this fiction is founded has been supposed, by Dr. +Darwin, and some of the physiological writers of Germany, as not of +impossible occurrence. I shall not be supposed as according the remotest +degree of serious faith to such an imagination; yet, in assuming it as +the basis of a work of fancy, I have not considered myself as merely +weaving a series of supernatural terrors. The event on which the +interest of the story depends is exempt from the disadvantages of a mere +tale of spectres or enchantment. It was recommended by the novelty of +the situations which it developes; and, however impossible as a physical +fact, affords a point of view to the imagination for the delineating of +human passions more comprehensive and commanding than any which the +ordinary relations of existing events can yield. + +I have thus endeavoured to preserve the truth of the elementary +principles of human nature, while I have not scrupled to innovate +upon their combinations. The _Iliad_, the tragic poetry of +Greece,—Shakespeare, in the _Tempest_ and _Midsummer Night’s +Dream_,—and most especially Milton, in _Paradise Lost_, conform to this +rule; and the most humble novelist, who seeks to confer or receive +amusement from his labours, may, without presumption, apply to prose +fiction a licence, or rather a rule, from the adoption of which so many +exquisite combinations of human feeling have resulted in the highest +specimens of poetry. + +The circumstance on which my story rests was suggested in casual +conversation. It was commenced, partly as a source of amusement, and +partly as an expedient for exercising any untried resources of mind. +Other motives were mingled with these, as the work proceeded. I am by no +means indifferent to the manner in which whatever moral tendencies exist +in the sentiments or characters it contains shall affect the reader; yet +my chief concern in this respect has been limited to the avoiding of the +enervating effects of the novels of the present day, and to the +exhibitions of the amiableness of domestic affection, and the excellence +of universal virtue. The opinions which naturally spring from the +character and situation of the hero are by no means to be conceived as +existing always in my own conviction; nor is any inference justly to be +drawn from the following pages as prejudicing any philosophical doctrine +of whatever kind. + +It is a subject also of additional interest to the author, that this +story was begun in the majestic region where the scene is principally +laid, and in society which cannot cease to be regretted. I passed the +summer of 1816 in the environs of Geneva. The season was cold and rainy, +and in the evenings we crowded around a blazing wood fire, and +occasionally amused ourselves with some German stories of ghosts, which +happened to fall into our hands. These tales excited in us a playful +desire of imitation. Two other friends (a tale from the pen of one of +whom would be far more acceptable to the public than any thing I can +ever hope to produce) and myself agreed to write each a story, founded +on some supernatural occurrence. + +The weather, however, suddenly became serene; and my two friends left me +on a journey among the Alps, and lost, in the magnificent scenes which +they present, all memory of their ghostly visions. The following tale is +the only one which has been completed. + + + + +FRANKENSTEIN; + +OR, THE + +_MODERN PROMETHEUS._ + + + + +LETTER I. + + +_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_. + +St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—. + +You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the +commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil +forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first task is to assure my +dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence in the success of +my undertaking. + +I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets of +Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which +braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand this +feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which +I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by +this wind of promise, my day dreams become more fervent and vivid. I try +in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and +desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of +beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible; its +broad disk just skirting the horizon, and diffusing a perpetual +splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust +in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing +over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in +beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its +productions and features may be without example, as the phænomena of the +heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What +may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there discover +the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may regulate a +thousand celestial observations, that require only this voyage to render +their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my +ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before +visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. +These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of +danger or death, and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with +the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday +mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But, supposing +all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable +benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by +discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which +at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret +of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an +undertaking such as mine. + +These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my +letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to +heaven; for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a +steady purpose,—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye. +This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I have +read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have been +made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the +seas which surround the pole. You may remember, that a history of all +the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the whole of our +good uncle Thomas’s library. My education was neglected, yet I was +passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night, +and my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as +a child, on learning that my father’s dying injunction had forbidden my +uncle to allow me to embark in a sea-faring life. + +These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets +whose effusions entranced my soul, and lifted it to heaven. I also +became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; +I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the +names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted +with my failure, and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at +that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were +turned into the channel of their earlier bent. + +Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, +even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great +enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied +the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily +endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder +than the common sailors during the day, and devoted my nights to the +study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of +physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest +practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an under-mate in +a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I +felt a little proud, when my captain offered me the second dignity in +the vessel, and entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness; so +valuable did he consider my services. + +And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great +purpose. My life might have been passed in ease and luxury; but I +preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, +that some encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage +and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are +often depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage; +the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not +only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, +when their’s are failing. + +This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly +quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in +my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stage-coach. The +cold is not excessive, if you are wrapt in furs, a dress which I have +already adopted; for there is a great difference between walking the +deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise +prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no +ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and +Archangel. + +I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my +intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying +the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think +necessary among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not +intend to sail until the month of June: and when shall I return? Ah, +dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many +months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, +you will see me again soon, or never. + +Farewell, my dear, excellent, Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on +you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for +all your love and kindness. + +Your affectionate brother, + +R. WALTON. + + + + +LETTER II. + + +_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_. + +Archangel, 28th March, 17—. + +How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow; +yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a vessel, +and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have already +engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend, and are certainly +possessed of dauntless courage. + +But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy; and the +absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil. I have +no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, +there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by +disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I +shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium +for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who +could sympathize with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem +me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I +have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as +well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve +or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of your +poor brother! I am too ardent in execution, and too impatient of +difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that I am +self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a +common, and read nothing but our uncle Thomas’s books of voyages. At +that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own +country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive +its most important benefits from such a conviction, that I perceived the +necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my +native country. Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate +than many school-boys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, +and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want +(as the painters call it) _keeping_; and I greatly need a friend who +would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection +enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind. + +Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on +the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. +Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in +these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful +courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory. He is an +Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices, +unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of +humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel: +finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to +assist in my enterprise. + +The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in +the ship for his gentleness, and the mildness of his discipline. He is, +indeed, of so amiable a nature, that he will not hunt (a favourite, and +almost the only amusement here), because he cannot endure to spill +blood. He is, moreover, heroically generous. Some years ago he loved a +young Russian lady, of moderate fortune; and having amassed a +considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the +match. He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she +was bathed in tears, and, throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to +spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that +he was poor, and that her father would never consent to the union. My +generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the +name of her lover instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought +a farm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of +his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the +remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited +the young woman’s father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But +the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my +friend; who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, +nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married +according to her inclinations. “What a noble fellow!” you will exclaim. +He is so; but then he has passed all his life on board a vessel, and has +scarcely an idea beyond the rope and the shroud. + +But do not suppose that, because I complain a little, or because I can +conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am +wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is +only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The +winter has been dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it +is considered as a remarkably early season; so that, perhaps, I may sail +sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly; you know me +sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the +safety of others is committed to my care. + +I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my +undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the +trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am +preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to “the land of +mist and snow;” but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be +alarmed for my safety. + +Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and +returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not +expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the +picture. Continue to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive +your letters (though the chance is very doubtful) on some occasions when +I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. +Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again. + +Your affectionate brother, + +ROBERT WALTON. + + + + +LETTER III. + + +_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_. + +July 7th, 17—. + +MY DEAR SISTER, + +I write a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced +on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchant-man now on +its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not +see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good +spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the +floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers +of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We +have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of +summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, +which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire +to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not +expected. + +No incidents have hitherto befallen us, that would make a figure in a +letter. One or two stiff gales, and the breaking of a mast, are +accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record; and +I shall be well content, if nothing worse happen to us during our +voyage. + +Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured, that for my own sake, as well as +your’s, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, +and prudent. + +Remember me to all my English friends. + +Most affectionately yours, + +R. W. + + + + +LETTER IV. + + +_To Mrs._ SAVILLE, _England_. + +August 5th, 17—. + +So strange an accident has happened to us, that I cannot forbear +recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before +these papers can come into your possession. + +Last Monday (July 31st), we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed +in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea room in which she +floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were +compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that +some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather. + +About two o’clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in +every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have +no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow +watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly attracted +our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We +perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on +towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being which had the +shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge, +and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller +with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of +the ice. + +This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, +many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition seemed to denote +that it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, +however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had +observed with the greatest attention. + +About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea; and +before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however, lay to +until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose +masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of +this time to rest for a few hours. + +In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck, and +found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking +to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we had seen +before, which had drifted towards us in the night, on a large fragment +of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human being within +it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as +the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some +undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck, the +master said, “Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish +on the open sea.” + +On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a +foreign accent. “Before I come on board your vessel,” said he, “will you +have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?” + +You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to +me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have +supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not +have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I +replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the +northern pole. + +Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board. +Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his +safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly +frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I +never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him +into the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted. +We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to +animation by rubbing him with brandy, and forcing him to swallow a small +quantity. As soon as he shewed signs of life, we wrapped him up in +blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen-stove. By slow +degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him +wonderfully. + +Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak; and I often +feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he +had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and +attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more +interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, +and even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act +of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service, his +whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence +and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is generally melancholy +and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of +the weight of woes that oppresses him. + +When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep off +the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not +allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body +and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose. Once, +however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so +strange a vehicle? + +His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he +replied, “To seek one who fled from me.” + +“And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then I fancy we have seen him; for, the day before we picked you up, we +saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice.” + +This aroused the stranger’s attention; and he asked a multitude of +questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had +pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, “I have, +doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people; +but you are too considerate to make inquiries.” + +“Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to +trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine.” + +“And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have +benevolently restored me to life.” + +Soon after this he inquired, if I thought that the breaking up of the +ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied, that I could not answer +with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near +midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety +before that time; but of this I could not judge. + +From this time the stranger seemed very eager to be upon deck, to watch +for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to +remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of +the atmosphere. But I have promised that some one should watch for him, +and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight. + +Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the +present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very +silent, and appears uneasy when any one except myself enters his cabin. +Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all +interested in him, although they have had very little communication with +him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant +and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been +a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so +attractive and amiable. + +I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no +friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit +had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as +the brother of my heart. + +I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should +I have any fresh incidents to record. + + * * * * * + +August 13th, 17—. + +My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my +admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble +a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant grief? +He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated; and when he +speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they +flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence. + +He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on the +deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, +although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but +that he interests himself deeply in the employments of others. He has +asked me many questions concerning my design; and I have related my +little history frankly to him. He appeared pleased with the confidence, +and suggested several alterations in my plan, which I shall find +exceedingly useful. There is no pedantry in his manner; but all he does +appears to spring solely from the interest he instinctively takes in the +welfare of those who surround him. He is often overcome by gloom, and +then he sits by himself, and tries to overcome all that is sullen or +unsocial in his humour. These paroxysms pass from him like a cloud from +before the sun, though his dejection never leaves him. I have +endeavoured to win his confidence; and I trust that I have succeeded. +One day I mentioned to him the desire I had always felt of finding a +friend who might sympathize with me, and direct me by his counsel. I +said, I did not belong to that class of men who are offended by advice. +“I am self-educated, and perhaps I hardly rely sufficiently upon my own +powers. I wish therefore that my companion should be wiser and more +experienced than myself, to confirm and support me; nor have I believed +it impossible to find a true friend.” + +“I agree with you,” replied the stranger, “in believing that friendship +is not only a desirable, but a possible acquisition. I once had a +friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, +to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, +and have no cause for despair. But I——I have lost every thing, and +cannot begin life anew.” + +As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm settled +grief, that touched me to the heart. But he was silent, and presently +retired to his cabin. + +Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does +the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight +afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of +elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may +suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet when he has +retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a +halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures. + +Will you laugh at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine +wanderer? If you do, you must have certainly lost that simplicity which +was once your characteristic charm. Yet, if you will, smile at the +warmth of my expressions, while I find every day new causes for +repeating them. + + * * * * * + +August 19th, 17—. + +Yesterday the stranger said to me, “You may easily perceive, Captain +Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had +determined, once, that the memory of these evils should die with me; but +you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for knowledge and +wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of +your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do +not know that the relation of my misfortunes will be useful to you, yet, +if you are inclined, listen to my tale. I believe that the strange +incidents connected with it will afford a view of nature, which may +enlarge your faculties and understanding. You will hear of powers and +occurrences, such as you have been accustomed to believe impossible: but +I do not doubt that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of +the truth of the events of which it is composed.” + +You may easily conceive that I was much gratified by the offered +communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by +a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the +promised narrative, partly from curiosity, and partly from a strong +desire to ameliorate his fate, if it were in my power. I expressed these +feelings in my answer. + +“I thank you,” he replied, “for your sympathy, but it is useless; my +fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall +repose in peace. I understand your feeling,” continued he, perceiving +that I wished to interrupt him; “but you are mistaken, my friend, if +thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny: listen +to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined.” + +He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when +I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I +have resolved every night, when I am not engaged, to record, as nearly +as possible in his own words, what he has related during the day. If I +should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will +doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to me, who know him, and +who hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I +read it in some future day! + + + + +FRANKENSTEIN; + +OR, + +THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I am by birth a Genevese; and my family is one of the most distinguished +of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and +syndics; and my father had filled several public situations with honour +and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his integrity +and indefatigable attention to public business. He passed his younger +days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; and it was not +until the decline of life that he thought of marrying, and bestowing on +the state sons who might carry his virtues and his name down to +posterity. + +As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot +refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a +merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous +mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a +proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty +and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been +distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, +therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his daughter +to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My +father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship, and was deeply grieved +by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He grieved also for +the loss of his society, and resolved to seek him out and endeavour to +persuade him to begin the world again through his credit and assistance. + +Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten +months before my father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this +discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean +street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and despair alone +welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the +wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with +sustenance for some months, and in the mean time he hoped to procure +some respectable employment in a merchant’s house. The interval was +consequently spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and +rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so +fast hold of his mind, that at the end of three months he lay on a bed +of sickness, incapable of any exertion. + +His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness; but she saw with +despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there +was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind +of an uncommon mould; and her courage rose to support her in her +adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw; and by various +means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life. + +Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time +was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence +decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving +her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her; and she knelt +by Beaufort’s coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the +chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who +committed herself to his care, and after the interment of his friend he +conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a +relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife. + +When my father became a husband and a parent, he found his time so +occupied by the duties of his new situation, that he relinquished many +of his public employments, and devoted himself to the education of his +children. Of these I was the eldest, and the destined successor to all +his labours and utility. No creature could have more tender parents than +mine. My improvement and health were their constant care, especially as +I remained for several years their only child. But before I continue my +narrative, I must record an incident which took place when I was four +years of age. + +My father had a sister, whom he tenderly loved, and who had married +early in life an Italian gentleman. Soon after her marriage, she had +accompanied her husband into her native country, and for some years my +father had very little communication with her. About the time I +mentioned she died; and a few months afterwards he received a letter +from her husband, acquainting him with his intention of marrying an +Italian lady, and requesting my father to take charge of the infant +Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he +said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate +her thus. Her mother’s fortune is secured to her, the documents of which +I will commit to your keeping. Reflect upon this proposition; and decide +whether you would prefer educating your niece yourself to her being +brought up by a stepmother.” + +My father did not hesitate, and immediately went to Italy, that he +might accompany the little Elizabeth to her future home. I have often +heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child +she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and +affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as +closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to +consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found +reason to repent. + +From this time Elizabeth Lavenza became my playfellow, and, as we grew +older, my friend. She was docile and good tempered, yet gay and playful +as a summer insect. Although she was lively and animated, her feelings +were strong and deep, and her disposition uncommonly affectionate. No +one could better enjoy liberty, yet no one could submit with more grace +than she did to constraint and caprice. Her imagination was luxuriant, +yet her capability of application was great. Her person was the image of +her mind; her hazel eyes, although as lively as a bird’s, possessed an +attractive softness. Her figure was light and airy; and, though capable +of enduring great fatigue, she appeared the most fragile creature in the +world. While I admired her understanding and fancy, I loved to tend on +her, as I should on a favourite animal; and I never saw so much grace +both of person and mind united to so little pretension. + +Every one adored Elizabeth. If the servants had any request to make, it +was always through her intercession. We were strangers to any species of +disunion and dispute; for although there was a great dissimilitude in +our characters, there was an harmony in that very dissimilitude. I was +more calm and philosophical than my companion; yet my temper was not so +yielding. My application was of longer endurance; but it was not so +severe whilst it endured. I delighted in investigating the facts +relative to the actual world; she busied herself in following the aërial +creations of the poets. The world was to me a secret, which I desired to +discover; to her it was a vacancy, which she sought to people with +imaginations of her own. + +My brothers were considerably younger than myself; but I had a friend +in one of my schoolfellows, who compensated for this deficiency. Henry +Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva, an intimate friend of my +father. He was a boy of singular talent and fancy. I remember, when he +was nine years old, he wrote a fairy tale, which was the delight and +amazement of all his companions. His favourite study consisted in books +of chivalry and romance; and when very young, I can remember, that we +used to act plays composed by him out of these favourite books, the +principal characters of which were Orlando, Robin Hood, Amadis, and St. +George. + +No youth could have passed more happily than mine. My parents were +indulgent, and my companions amiable. Our studies were never forced; and +by some means we always had an end placed in view, which excited us to +ardour in the prosecution of them. It was by this method, and not by +emulation, that we were urged to application. Elizabeth was not incited +to apply herself to drawing, that her companions might not outstrip her; +but through the desire of pleasing her aunt, by the representation of +some favourite scene done by her own hand. We learned Latin and English, +that we might read the writings in those languages; and so far from +study being made odious to us through punishment, we loved application, +and our amusements would have been the labours of other children. +Perhaps we did not read so many books, or learn languages so quickly, as +those who are disciplined according to the ordinary methods; but what +we learned was impressed the more deeply on our memories. + +In this description of our domestic circle I include Henry Clerval; for +he was constantly with us. He went to school with me, and generally +passed the afternoon at our house; for being an only child, and +destitute of companions at home, his father was well pleased that he +should find associates at our house; and we were never completely happy +when Clerval was absent. + +I feel pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before +misfortune had tainted my mind, and changed its bright visions of +extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. But, +in drawing the picture of my early days, I must not omit to record those +events which led, by insensible steps to my after tale of misery: for +when I would account to myself for the birth of that passion, which +afterwards ruled my destiny, I find it arise, like a mountain river, +from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it +proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away +all my hopes and joys. + +Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire +therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my +predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age, we all +went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon: the inclemency of +the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this +house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I +opened it with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate, and +the wonderful facts which he relates, soon changed this feeling into +enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind; and, bounding with +joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. I cannot help remarking +here the many opportunities instructors possess of directing the +attention of their pupils to useful knowledge, which they utterly +neglect. My father looked carelessly at the title-page of my book, and +said, “Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time +upon this; it is sad trash.” + +If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains, to explain to +me, that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded, and that +a modern system of science had been introduced, which possessed much +greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were +chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical; under +such circumstances, I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside, and, +with my imagination warmed as it was, should probably have applied +myself to the more rational theory of chemistry which has resulted from +modern discoveries. It is even possible, that the train of my ideas +would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the +cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me +that he was acquainted with its contents; and I continued to read with +the greatest avidity. + +When I returned home, my first care was to procure the whole works of +this author, and afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read +and studied the wild fancies of these writers with delight; they +appeared to me treasures known to few beside myself; and although I +often wished to communicate these secret stores of knowledge to my +father, yet his indefinite censure of my favourite Agrippa always +withheld me. I disclosed my discoveries to Elizabeth, therefore, under a +promise of strict secrecy; but she did not interest herself in the +subject, and I was left by her to pursue my studies alone. + +It may appear very strange, that a disciple of Albertus Magnus should +arise in the eighteenth century; but our family was not scientifical, +and I had not attended any of the lectures given at the schools of +Geneva. My dreams were therefore undisturbed by reality; and I entered +with the greatest diligence into the search of the philosopher’s stone +and the elixir of life. But the latter obtained my most undivided +attention: wealth was an inferior object; but what glory would attend +the discovery, if I could banish disease from the human frame, and +render man invulnerable to any but a violent death! + +Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a +promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of +which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always +unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and +mistake, than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. + +The natural phænomena that take place every day before our eyes did not +escape my examinations. Distillation, and the wonderful effects of +steam, processes of which my favourite authors were utterly ignorant, +excited my astonishment; but my utmost wonder was engaged by some +experiments on an air-pump, which I saw employed by a gentleman whom we +were in the habit of visiting. + +The ignorance of the early philosophers on these and several other +points served to decrease their credit with me: but I could not entirely +throw them aside, before some other system should occupy their place in +my mind. + +When I was about fifteen years old, we had retired to our house near +Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunder-storm. It +advanced from behind the mountains of Jura; and the thunder burst at +once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I +remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity +and delight. As I stood at the door, on a sudden I beheld a stream of +fire issue from an old and beautiful oak, which stood about twenty yards +from our house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had +disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited +it the next morning, we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. +It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin +ribbands of wood. I never beheld any thing so utterly destroyed. + +The catastrophe of this tree excited my extreme astonishment; and I +eagerly inquired of my father the nature and origin of thunder and +lightning. He replied, “Electricity;” describing at the same time the +various effects of that power. He constructed a small electrical +machine, and exhibited a few experiments; he made also a kite, with a +wire and string, which drew down that fluid from the clouds. + +This last stroke completed the overthrow of Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus +Magnus, and Paracelsus, who had so long reigned the lords of my +imagination. But by some fatality I did not feel inclined to commence +the study of any modern system; and this disinclination was influenced +by the following circumstance. + +My father expressed a wish that I should attend a course of lectures +upon natural philosophy, to which I cheerfully consented. Some accident +prevented my attending these lectures until the course was nearly +finished. The lecture, being therefore one of the last, was entirely +incomprehensible to me. The professor discoursed with the greatest +fluency of potassium and boron, of sulphates and oxyds, terms to which I +could affix no idea; and I became disgusted with the science of natural +philosophy, although I still read Pliny and Buffon with delight, +authors, in my estimation, of nearly equal interest and utility. + +My occupations at this age were principally the mathematics, and most of +the branches of study appertaining to that science. I was busily +employed in learning languages; Latin was already familiar to me, and I +began to read some of the easiest Greek authors without the help of a +lexicon. I also perfectly understood English and German. This is the +list of my accomplishments at the age of seventeen; and you may conceive +that my hours were fully employed in acquiring and maintaining a +knowledge of this various literature. + +Another task also devolved upon me, when I became the instructor of my +brothers. Ernest was six years younger than myself, and was my principal +pupil. He had been afflicted with ill health from his infancy, through +which Elizabeth and I had been his constant nurses: his disposition was +gentle, but he was incapable of any severe application. William, the +youngest of our family, was yet an infant, and the most beautiful little +fellow in the world; his lively blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and endearing +manners, inspired the tenderest affection. + +Such was our domestic circle, from which care and pain seemed for ever +banished. My father directed our studies, and my mother partook of our +enjoyments. Neither of us possessed the slightest pre-eminence over the +other; the voice of command was never heard amongst us; but mutual +affection engaged us all to comply with and obey the slightest desire of +each other. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +When I had attained the age of seventeen, my parents resolved that I +should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had hitherto +attended the schools of Geneva; but my father thought it necessary, for +the completion of my education, that I should be made acquainted with +other customs than those of my native country. My departure was +therefore fixed at an early date; but, before the day resolved upon +could arrive, the first misfortune of my life occurred—an omen, as it +were, of my future misery. + +Elizabeth had caught the scarlet fever; but her illness was not severe, +and she quickly recovered. During her confinement, many arguments had +been urged to persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She +had, at first, yielded to our entreaties; but when she heard that her +favourite was recovering, she could no longer debar herself from her +society, and entered her chamber long before the danger of infection was +past. The consequences of this imprudence were fatal. On the third day +my mother sickened; her fever was very malignant, and the looks of her +attendants prognosticated the worst event. On her death-bed the +fortitude and benignity of this admirable woman did not desert her. She +joined the hands of Elizabeth and myself: “My children,” she said, “my +firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your +union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father. +Elizabeth, my love, you must supply my place to your younger cousins. +Alas! I regret that I am taken from you; and, happy and beloved as I +have been, is it not hard to quit you all? But these are not thoughts +befitting me; I will endeavour to resign myself cheerfully to death, and +will indulge a hope of meeting you in another world.” + +She died calmly; and her countenance expressed affection even in death. +I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by +that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, +and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long +before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and +whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for +ever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished, +and the sound of a voice so familiar, and dear to the ear, can be +hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first +days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then +the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that +rude hand rent away some dear connexion; and why should I describe a +sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives, +when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that +plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not +banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to +perform; we must continue our course with the rest, and learn to think +ourselves fortunate, whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized. + +My journey to Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events, was +now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of some +weeks. This period was spent sadly; my mother’s death, and my speedy +departure, depressed our spirits; but Elizabeth endeavoured to renew the +spirit of cheerfulness in our little society. Since the death of her +aunt, her mind had acquired new firmness and vigour. She determined to +fulfil her duties with the greatest exactness; and she felt that that +most imperious duty, of rendering her uncle and cousins happy, had +devolved upon her. She consoled me, amused her uncle, instructed my +brothers; and I never beheld her so enchanting as at this time, when she +was continually endeavouring to contribute to the happiness of others, +entirely forgetful of herself. + +The day of my departure at length arrived. I had taken leave of all my +friends, excepting Clerval, who spent the last evening with us. He +bitterly lamented that he was unable to accompany me: but his father +could not be persuaded to part with him, intending that he should become +a partner with him in business, in compliance with his favourite theory, +that learning was superfluous in the commerce of ordinary life. Henry +had a refined mind; he had no desire to be idle, and was well pleased to +become his father’s partner, but he believed that a man might be a very +good trader, and yet possess a cultivated understanding. + +We sat late, listening to his complaints, and making many little +arrangements for the future. The next morning early I departed. Tears +gushed from the eyes of Elizabeth; they proceeded partly from sorrow at +my departure, and partly because she reflected that the same journey was +to have taken place three months before, when a mother’s blessing would +have accompanied me. + +I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away, and indulged +in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by +amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow +mutual pleasure, I was now alone. In the university, whither I was +going, I must form my own friends, and be my own protector. My life had +hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic; and this had given me +invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, +Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were “old familiar faces;” but I believed +myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my +reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits +and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had +often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up +in one place, and had longed to enter the world, and take my station +among other human beings. Now my desires were complied with, and it +would, indeed, have been folly to repent. + +I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my +journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the high +white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted, and was conducted to +my solitary apartment, to spend the evening as I pleased. + +The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction, and paid a +visit to some of the principal professors, and among others to M. +Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. He received me with politeness, +and asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different +branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I mentioned, it +is true, with fear and trembling, the only authors I had ever read upon +those subjects. The professor stared: “Have you,” he said, “really spent +your time in studying such nonsense?” + +I replied in the affirmative. “Every minute,” continued M. Krempe with +warmth, “every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly +and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems, +and useless names. Good God! in what desert land have you lived, where +no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies, which you have +so greedily imbibed, are a thousand years old, and as musty as they are +ancient? I little expected in this enlightened and scientific age to +find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear Sir, you must +begin your studies entirely anew.” + +So saying, he stept aside, and wrote down a list of several books +treating of natural philosophy, which he desired me to procure, and +dismissed me, after mentioning that in the beginning of the following +week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural +philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a +fellow-professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that +he missed. + +I returned home, not disappointed, for I had long considered those +authors useless whom the professor had so strongly reprobated; but I did +not feel much inclined to study the books which I procured at his +recommendation. M. Krempe was a little squat man, with a gruff voice and +repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in +favour of his doctrine. Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern +natural philosophy. It was very different, when the masters of the +science sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were +grand: but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer +seemed to limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my +interest in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange +chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth. + +Such were my reflections during the first two or three days spent almost +in solitude. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the +information which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And +although I could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow +deliver sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M. +Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town. + +Partly from curiosity, and partly from idleness, I went into the +lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor +was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, but +with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few gray hairs +covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were nearly +black. His person was short, but remarkably erect; and his voice the +sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a recapitulation of +the history of chemistry and the various improvements made by different +men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names of the most +distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of the present +state of the science, and explained many of its elementary terms. After +having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded with a panegyric +upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall never forget:— + +“The ancient teachers of this science,” said he, “promised +impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very +little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir +of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made +to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pour over the microscope or +crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the +recesses of nature, and shew how she works in her hiding places. They +ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, +and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost +unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the +earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.” + +I departed highly pleased with the professor and his lecture, and paid +him a visit the same evening. His manners in private were even more mild +and attractive than in public; for there was a certain dignity in his +mien during his lecture, which in his own house was replaced by the +greatest affability and kindness. He heard with attention my little +narration concerning my studies, and smiled at the names of Cornelius +Agrippa, and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had +exhibited. He said, that “these were men to whose indefatigable zeal +modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their +knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names, +and arrange in connected classifications, the facts which they in a +great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The labours +of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in +ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.” I listened to his +statement, which was delivered without any presumption or affectation; +and then added, that his lecture had removed my prejudices against +modern chemists; and I, at the same time, requested his advice +concerning the books I ought to procure. + +“I am happy,” said M. Waldman, “to have gained a disciple; and if your +application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success. +Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest +improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I +have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time I have not +neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very +sorry chemist, if he attended to that department of human knowledge +alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science, and not merely +a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every branch of +natural philosophy, including mathematics.” + +He then took me into his laboratory, and explained to me the uses of +his various machines; instructing me as to what I ought to procure, and +promising me the use of his own, when I should have advanced far enough +in the science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list +of books which I had requested; and I took my leave. + +Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the +most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation. +I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, +which modern inquirers have written on these subjects. I attended the +lectures, and cultivated the acquaintance, of the men of science of the +university; and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense +and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive physiognomy +and manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In M. Waldman I +found a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by dogmatism; and +his instructions were given with an air of frankness and good nature, +that banished every idea of pedantry. It was, perhaps, the amiable +character of this man that inclined me more to that branch of natural +philosophy which he professed, than an intrinsic love for the science +itself. But this state of mind had place only in the first steps towards +knowledge: the more fully I entered into the science, the more +exclusively I pursued it for its own sake. That application, which at +first had been a matter of duty and resolution, now became so ardent and +eager, that the stars often disappeared in the light of morning whilst +I was yet engaged in my laboratory. + +As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that I improved +rapidly. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students; and my +proficiency, that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me, with +a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on? whilst M. Waldman expressed +the most heart-felt exultation in my progress. Two years passed in this +manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was engaged, heart +and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries, which I hoped to make. +None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements +of science. In other studies you go as far as others have gone before +you, and there is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuit +there is continual food for discovery and wonder. A mind of moderate +capacity, which closely pursues one study, must infallibly arrive at +great proficiency in that study; and I, who continually sought the +attainment of one object of pursuit, and was solely wrapt up in this, +improved so rapidly, that, at the end of two years, I made some +discoveries in the improvement of some chemical instruments, which +procured me great esteem and admiration at the university. When I had +arrived at this point, and had become as well acquainted with the theory +and practice of natural philosophy as depended on the lessons of any of +the professors at Ingolstadt, my residence there being no longer +conducive to my improvements, I thought of returning to my friends and +my native town, when an incident happened that protracted my stay. + +One of the phænonema which had peculiarly attracted my attention was the +structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with life. +Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? It was +a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a mystery; +yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted, +if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries. I revolved +these circumstances in my mind, and determined thenceforth to apply +myself more particularly to those branches of natural philosophy which +relate to physiology. Unless I had been animated by an almost +supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this study would have been +irksome, and almost intolerable. To examine the causes of life, we must +first have recourse to death. I became acquainted with the science of +anatomy: but this was not sufficient; I must also observe the natural +decay and corruption of the human body. In my education my father had +taken the greatest precautions that my mind should be impressed with no +supernatural horrors. I do not ever remember to have trembled at a tale +of superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness +had no effect upon my fancy; and a church-yard was to me merely the +receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of +beauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led to +examine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend days +and nights in vaults and charnel houses. My attention was fixed upon +every object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human +feelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I +beheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I +saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused, +examining and analysing all the minutiæ of causation, as exemplified in +the change from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst +of this darkness a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant +and wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the +immensity of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that +among so many men of genius, who had directed their inquiries towards +the same science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so +astonishing a secret. + +Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not +more certainly shine in the heavens, than that which I now affirm is +true. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the +discovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of +incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of +generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing +animation upon lifeless matter. + +The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery soon +gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in painful +labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires, was the most +gratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so great +and overwhelming, that all the steps by which I had been progressively +led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. What had been +the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the world, +was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it all opened +upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a nature rather +to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them towards the +object of my search, than to exhibit that object already accomplished. I +was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead, and found a +passage to life aided only by one glimmering, and seemingly ineffectual +light. + +I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes +express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with +which I am acquainted; that cannot be: listen patiently until the end of +my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that +subject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, to +your destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by my +precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of +knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town +to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature +will allow. + +When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated +a long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it. Although +I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare a frame +for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of fibres, muscles, +and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable difficulty and labour. +I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of a being like +myself or one of simpler organization; but my imagination was too much +exalted by my first success to permit me to doubt of my ability to give +life to an animal as complex and wonderful as man. The materials at +present within my command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous an +undertaking; but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed. I +prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might be +incessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect: yet, when I +considered the improvement which every day takes place in science and +mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least +lay the foundations of future success. Nor could I consider the +magnitude and complexity of my plan as any argument of its +impracticability. It was with these feelings that I began the creation +of a human being. As the minuteness of the parts formed a great +hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first intention, to +make the being of a gigantic stature; that is to say, about eight feet +in height, and proportionably large. After having formed this +determination, and having spent some months in successfully collecting +and arranging my materials, I began. + +No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like +a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death appeared +to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a +torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as +its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their +being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so +completely as I should deserve their’s. Pursuing these reflections, I +thought, that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might +in process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where +death had apparently devoted the body to corruption. + +These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking with +unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my person +had become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very brink of +certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the next day or +the next hour might realize. One secret which I alone possessed was the +hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight +labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued +nature to her hiding places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret +toil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or tortured +the living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble, +and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, and almost +frantic impulse, urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or +sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance, +that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural +stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits. I +collected bones from charnel houses; and disturbed, with profane +fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary +chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all +the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop of +filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from their sockets in +attending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room and the +slaughter-house furnished many of my materials; and often did my human +nature turn with loathing from my occupation, whilst, still urged on by +an eagerness which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to a +conclusion. + +The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in +one pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow +a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: +but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the same +feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to +forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not +seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them; and I well +remembered the words of my father: “I know that while you are pleased +with yourself, you will think of us with affection, and we shall hear +regularly from you. You must pardon me, if I regard any interruption in +your correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equally +neglected.” + +I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings; but I could +not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which +had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it were, +to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection until the +great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should be +completed. + +I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect +to vice, or faultiness on my part; but I am now convinced that he was +justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from blame. +A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful +mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his +tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an +exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself has a +tendency to weaken your affections, and to destroy your taste for those +simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that study is +certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human mind. If +this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit +whatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic +affections, Greece had not been enslaved; Cæsar would have spared his +country; America would have been discovered more gradually; and the +empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed. + +But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my +tale; and your looks remind me to proceed. + +My father made no reproach in his letters; and only took notice of my +silence by inquiring into my occupations more particularly than before. +Winter, spring, and summer, passed away during my labours; but I did not +watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always +yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation. +The leaves of that year had withered before my work drew near to a +close; and now every day shewed me more plainly how well I had +succeeded. But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared +rather like one doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other +unwholesome trade, than an artist occupied by his favourite employment. +Every night I was oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a +most painful degree; a disease that I regretted the more because I had +hitherto enjoyed most excellent health, and had always boasted of the +firmness of my nerves. But I believed that exercise and amusement would +soon drive away such symptoms; and I promised myself both of these, when +my creation should be complete. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment +of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected +the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being +into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the +morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was +nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I +saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a +convulsive motion agitated its limbs. + +How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the +wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? +His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as +beautiful. Beautiful!—Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the +work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, +and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only +formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost +of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his +shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips. + +The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of +human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole +purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had deprived +myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour that far +exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the +dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. +Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of +the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable +to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude succeeded to the +tumult I had before endured; and I threw myself on the bed in my +clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was +in vain: I slept indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I +thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets +of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her; but as I +imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of +death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the +corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I +saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from +my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth +chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow +light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window-shutters, I +beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up +the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were +fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, +while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not +hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped, +and rushed down stairs. I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the +house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night, +walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, +catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach +of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life. + +Oh! no mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy +again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I +had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those +muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing +such as even Dante could not have conceived. + +I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and +hardly, that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly +sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with +this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment: dreams that had +been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space, were now become a +hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete! + +Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned, and discovered to my +sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple +and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates +of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into the +streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the +wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my +view. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt +impelled to hurry on, although wetted by the rain, which poured from a +black and comfortless sky. + +I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring, by +bodily exercise, to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I +traversed the streets, without any clear conception of where I was, or +what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear; and I +hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me: + + Like one who, on a lonely road, + Doth walk in fear and dread, + And, having once turn’d round, walks on, + And turns no more his head; + Because he knows a frightful fiend + Doth close behind him tread. + +Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the +various diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, I knew +not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach that +was coming towards me from the other end of the street. As it drew +nearer, I observed that it was the Swiss diligence: it stopped just +where I was standing; and, on the door being opened, I perceived Henry +Clerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out. “My dear +Frankenstein,” exclaimed he, “how glad I am to see you! how fortunate +that you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!” + +Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought +back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home +so dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot +my horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time during +many months, calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend, therefore, in +the most cordial manner, and we walked towards my college. Clerval +continued talking for some time about our mutual friends, and his own +good fortune in being permitted to come to Ingolstadt. “You may easily +believe,” said he, “how great was the difficulty to persuade my father +that it was not absolutely necessary for a merchant not to understand +any thing except book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe I left him +incredulous to the last, for his constant answer to my unwearied +entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in the Vicar +of Wakefield: ‘I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek, I eat +heartily without Greek.’ But his affection for me at length overcame his +dislike of learning, and he has permitted me to undertake a voyage of +discovery to the land of knowledge.” + +“It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left +my father, brothers, and Elizabeth.” + +“Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from you +so seldom. By the bye, I mean to lecture you a little upon their account +myself.—But, my dear Frankenstein,” continued he, stopping short, and +gazing full in my face, “I did not before remark how very ill you +appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for +several nights.” + +“You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one +occupation, that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see: +but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an +end, and that I am at length free.” + +I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to +allude to the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a quick +pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and the +thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my +apartment might still be there, alive, and walking about. I dreaded to +behold this monster; but I feared still more that Henry should see him. +Entreating him therefore to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the +stairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the lock +of the door before I recollected myself. I then paused; and a cold +shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as children are +accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them +on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped fearfully in: the +apartment was empty; and my bedroom was also freed from its hideous +guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good-fortune could have +befallen me; but when I became assured that my enemy had indeed fled, I +clapped my hands for joy, and ran down to Clerval. + +We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast; +but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed +me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse +beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same +place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud. +Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival; +but when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes +for which he could not account; and my loud, unrestrained, heartless +laughter, frightened and astonished him. + +“My dear Victor,” cried he, “what, for God’s sake, is the matter? Do not +laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of all this?” + +“Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought +I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “_he_ can tell.—Oh, save +me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled +furiously, and fell down in a fit. + +Poor Clerval! what must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he +anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I was +not the witness of his grief; for I was lifeless, and did not recover my +senses for a long, long time. + +This was the commencement of a nervous fever, which confined me for +several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. I +afterwards learned that, knowing my father’s advanced age, and unfitness +for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make +Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my +disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive nurse +than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he did not +doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest action that +he could towards them. + +But I was in reality very ill; and surely nothing but the unbounded and +unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life. The +form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before +my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless my words +surprised Henry: he at first believed them to be the wanderings of my +disturbed imagination; but the pertinacity with which I continually +recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder indeed owed +its origin to some uncommon and terrible event. + +By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and +grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became +capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I +perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared, and that the young +buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was a +divine spring; and the season contributed greatly to my convalescence. I +felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in my bosom; my gloom +disappeared, and in a short time I became as cheerful as before I was +attacked by the fatal passion. + +“Dearest Clerval,” exclaimed I, “how kind, how very good you are to me. +This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised +yourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repay +you? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I have +been the occasion; but you will forgive me.” + +“You will repay me entirely, if you do not discompose yourself, but get +well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I +may speak to you on one subject, may I not?” + +I trembled. One subject! what could it be? Could he allude to an object +on whom I dared not even think? + +“Compose yourself,” said Clerval, who observed my change of colour, “I +will not mention it, if it agitates you; but your father and cousin +would be very happy if they received a letter from you in your own +hand-writing. They hardly know how ill you have been, and are uneasy at +your long silence.” + +“Is that all? my dear Henry. How could you suppose that my first thought +would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love, and who are +so deserving of my love.” + +“If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad to +see a letter that has been lying here some days for you: it is from your +cousin, I believe.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. + + * * * * * + +“_To_ V. FRANKENSTEIN. + +“MY DEAR COUSIN, + +“I cannot describe to you the uneasiness we have all felt concerning +your health. We cannot help imagining that your friend Clerval conceals +the extent of your disorder: for it is now several months since we have +seen your hand-writing; and all this time you have been obliged to +dictate your letters to Henry. Surely, Victor, you must have been +exceedingly ill; and this makes us all very wretched, as much so nearly +as after the death of your dear mother. My uncle was almost persuaded +that you were indeed dangerously ill, and could hardly be restrained +from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. Clerval always writes that you +are getting better; I eagerly hope that you will confirm this +intelligence soon in your own hand-writing; for indeed, indeed, Victor, +we are all very miserable on this account. Relieve us from this fear, +and we shall be the happiest creatures in the world. Your father’s +health is now so vigorous, that he appears ten years younger since last +winter. Ernest also is so much improved, that you would hardly know him: +he is now nearly sixteen, and has lost that sickly appearance which he +had some years ago; he is grown quite robust and active. + +“My uncle and I conversed a long time last night about what profession +Ernest should follow. His constant illness when young has deprived him +of the habits of application; and now that he enjoys good health, he is +continually in the open air, climbing the hills, or rowing on the lake. +I therefore proposed that he should be a farmer; which you know, Cousin, +is a favourite scheme of mine. A farmer’s is a very healthy happy life; +and the least hurtful, or rather the most beneficial profession of any. +My uncle had an idea of his being educated as an advocate, that through +his interest he might become a judge. But, besides that he is not at all +fitted for such an occupation, it is certainly more creditable to +cultivate the earth for the sustenance of man, than to be the confidant, +and sometimes the accomplice, of his vices; which is the profession of a +lawyer. I said, that the employments of a prosperous farmer, if they +were not a more honourable, they were at least a happier species of +occupation than that of a judge, whose misfortune it was always to +meddle with the dark side of human nature. My uncle smiled, and said, +that I ought to be an advocate myself, which put an end to the +conversation on that subject. + +“And now I must tell you a little story that will please, and perhaps +amuse you. Do you not remember Justine Moritz? Probably you do not; I +will relate her history, therefore, in a few words. Madame Moritz, her +mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the third. +This girl had always been the favourite of her father; but, through a +strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and, after the +death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed this; and, +when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother to allow +her to live at her house. The republican institutions of our country +have produced simpler and happier manners than those which prevail in +the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less distinction +between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the lower orders +being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are more refined +and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same thing as a servant +in France and England. Justine, thus received in our family, learned the +duties of a servant; a condition which, in our fortunate country, does +not include the idea of ignorance, and a sacrifice of the dignity of a +human being. + +“After what I have said, I dare say you well remember the heroine of my +little tale: for Justine was a great favourite of your’s; and I +recollect you once remarked, that if you were in an ill-humour, one +glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that Ariosto +gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked so frank-hearted and +happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her, by which she was +induced to give her an education superior to that which she had at +first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; Justine was the most +grateful little creature in the world: I do not mean that she made any +professions, I never heard one pass her lips; but you could see by her +eyes that she almost adored her protectress. Although her disposition +was gay, and in many respects inconsiderate, yet she paid the greatest +attention to every gesture of my aunt. She thought her the model of all +excellence, and endeavoured to imitate her phraseology and manners, so +that even now she often reminds me of her. + +“When my dearest aunt died, every one was too much occupied in their own +grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness +with the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but other +trials were reserved for her. + +“One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the +exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The conscience +of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the deaths of her +favourites was a judgment from heaven to chastise her partiality. She +was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor confirmed the idea +which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months after your departure +for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her repentant mother. Poor +girl! she wept when she quitted our house: she was much altered since +the death of my aunt; grief had given softness and a winning mildness to +her manners, which had before been remarkable for vivacity. Nor was her +residence at her mother’s house of a nature to restore her gaiety. The +poor woman was very vacillating in her repentance. She sometimes begged +Justine to forgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her of +having caused the deaths of her brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting +at length threw Madame Moritz into a decline, which at first increased +her irritability, but she is now at peace for ever. She died on the +first approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter. +Justine has returned to us; and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is +very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her +mien and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt. + +“I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling +William. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with +sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eye-lashes, and curling hair. When he +smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with +health. He has already had one or two little _wives_, but Louisa Biron +is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age. + +“Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip +concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield has +already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage +with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly sister, Manon, +married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favourite +schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since the +departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already recovered his +spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a very lively +pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much older +than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with every +body. + +“I have written myself into good spirits, dear cousin; yet I cannot +conclude without again anxiously inquiring concerning your health. Dear +Victor, if you are not very ill, write yourself, and make your father +and all of us happy; or——I cannot bear to think of the other side of +the question; my tears already flow. Adieu, my dearest cousin.” + +“ELIZABETH LAVENZA. + +“Geneva, March 18th, 17—.” + + * * * * * + +“Dear, dear Elizabeth!” I exclaimed when I had read her letter, “I will +write instantly, and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel.” I +wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence had +commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was able to +leave my chamber. + +One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the +several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a kind +of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had sustained. +Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the beginning of +my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even to the name of +natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored to health, the +sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony of my nervous +symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my apparatus from my view. +He had also changed my apartment; for he perceived that I had acquired a +dislike for the room which had previously been my laboratory. But these +cares of Clerval were made of no avail when I visited the professors. M. +Waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the +astonishing progress I had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that +I disliked the subject; but, not guessing the real cause, he attributed +my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement to +the science itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me +out. What could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as +if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments +which were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel +death. I writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt. +Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the +sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his +total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I +thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly that +he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from me; and +although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence that knew +no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide to him that +event which was so often present to my recollection, but which I feared +the detail to another would only impress more deeply. + +M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of +almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me +even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. “D—n the +fellow!” cried he; “why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript us +all. Aye, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A youngster +who, but a few years ago, believed Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as the +gospel, has now set himself at the head of the university; and if he is +not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of countenance.—Aye, aye,” +continued he, observing my face expressive of suffering, “M. +Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young man. Young men +should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. Clerval; I was myself +when young: but that wears out in a very short time.” + +M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned +the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me. + +Clerval was no natural philosopher. His imagination was too vivid for +the minutiæ of science. Languages were his principal study; and he +sought, by acquiring their elements, to open a field for +self-instruction on his return to Geneva. Persian, Arabic, and Hebrew, +gained his attention, after he had made himself perfectly master of +Greek and Latin. For my own part, idleness had ever been irksome to me; +and now that I wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former +studies, I felt great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, +and found not only instruction but consolation in the works of the +orientalists. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy elevating to a +degree I never experienced in studying the authors of any other country. +When you read their writings, life appears to consist in a warm sun and +garden of roses,—in the smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire +that consumes your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical +poetry of Greece and Rome. + +Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was +fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several +accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable, +and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this delay +very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town, and my beloved +friends. My return had only been delayed so long from an unwillingness +to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become acquainted +with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent cheerfully; +and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came, its beauty +compensated for its dilatoriness. + +The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily +which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a +pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt that I might bid a +personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded +with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval +had always been my favourite companion in the rambles of this nature +that I had taken among the scenes of my native country. + +We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits had +long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the +salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and +the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the +intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but +Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught me +to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children. +Excellent friend! how sincerely did you love me, and endeavour to +elevate my mind, until it was on a level with your own. A selfish +pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection +warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature who, a few +years ago, loving and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. When happy, +inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful +sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with ecstacy. The +present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring bloomed in the +hedges, while those of summer were already in bud: I was undisturbed by +thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed upon me, +notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an invincible +burden. + +Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathized in my feelings: +he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that +filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly +astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, +in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of +wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite +poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great +ingenuity. + +We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the peasants were +dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My own spirits +were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled joy and +hilarity. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +On my return, I found the following letter from my father:— + + * * * * * + +“_To_ V. FRANKENSTEIN. + +“MY DEAR VICTOR, + +“You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of +your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few lines, +merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But that would +be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be your surprise, +my son, when you expected a happy and gay welcome, to behold, on the +contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can I relate our +misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to our joys and +griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on an absent child? I wish to +prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is impossible; even now +your eye skims over the page, to seek the words which are to convey to +you the horrible tidings. + +“William is dead!—that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed +my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered! + +“I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the +circumstances of the transaction. + +“Last Thursday (May 7th) I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to +walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged +our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of +returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone +on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until +they should return. Presently Ernest came, and inquired if we had seen +his brother: he said, that they had been playing together, that William +had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and +afterwards waited for him a long time, but that he did not return. + +“This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him +until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have returned +to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with torches; for I +could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had lost himself, and +was exposed to all the damps and dews of night: Elizabeth also suffered +extreme anguish. About five in the morning I discovered my lovely boy, +whom the night before I had seen blooming and active in health, +stretched on the grass livid and motionless: the print of the murderer’s +finger was on his neck. + +“He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my +countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to +see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her; but she persisted, +and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the +victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, ‘O God! I have murdered my +darling infant!’ + +“She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again +lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same evening +William had teazed her to let him wear a very valuable miniature that +she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and was doubtless +the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We have no trace of +him at present, although our exertions to discover him are unremitted; +but they will not restore my beloved William. + +“Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps +continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; her +words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an +additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? Your +dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live to +witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling! + +“Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, +but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of +festering the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my +friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not +with hatred for your enemies. + +“Your affectionate and afflicted father, + +“ALPHONSE FRANKENSTEIN. + +“Geneva, May 12th, 17—.” + + * * * * * + +Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was +surprised to observe the despair that succeeded to the joy I at first +expressed on receiving news from my friends. I threw the letter on the +table, and covered my face with my hands. + +“My dear Frankenstein,” exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with +bitterness, “are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has +happened?” + +I motioned to him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the +room in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes of +Clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune. + +“I can offer you no consolation, my friend,” said he; “your disaster is +irreparable. What do you intend to do?” + +“To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order the horses.” + +During our walk, Clerval endeavoured to raise my spirits. He did not do +this by common topics of consolation, but by exhibiting the truest +sympathy. “Poor William!” said he, “that dear child; he now sleeps with +his angel mother. His friends mourn and weep, but he is at rest: he does +not now feel the murderer’s grasp; a sod covers his gentle form, and he +knows no pain. He can no longer be a fit subject for pity; the survivors +are the greatest sufferers, and for them time is the only consolation. +Those maxims of the Stoics, that death was no evil, and that the mind of +man ought to be superior to despair on the eternal absence of a beloved +object, ought not to be urged. Even Cato wept over the dead body of his +brother.” + +Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words +impressed themselves on my mind, and I remembered them afterwards in +solitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a +cabriole, and bade farewell to my friend. + +My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I +longed to console and sympathize with my loved and sorrowing friends; +but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could +hardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I +passed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen for +nearly six years. How altered every thing might be during that time? One +sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little +circumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations which, +although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less decisive. +Fear overcame me; I dared not advance, dreading a thousand nameless +evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define them. + +I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. I +contemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm, and +the snowy mountains, “the palaces of nature,” were not changed. By +degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my +journey towards Geneva. + +The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I +approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black sides +of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blânc; I wept like a child: “Dear +mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your wanderer? Your +summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to +prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?” + +I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on +these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative +happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved +country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again beholding +thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely lake. + +Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night also +closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I felt +still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil, +and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched +of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only in one single +circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and dreaded, I did not +conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was destined to endure. + +It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva; the +gates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to pass the night +at Secheron, a village half a league to the east of the city. The sky +was serene; and, as I was unable to rest, I resolved to visit the spot +where my poor William had been murdered. As I could not pass through the +town, I was obliged to cross the lake in a boat to arrive at +Plainpalais. During this short voyage I saw the lightnings playing on +the summit of Mont Blânc in the most beautiful figures. The storm +appeared to approach rapidly; and, on landing, I ascended a low hill, +that I might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were +clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its +violence quickly increased. + +I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm +increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash +over my head. It was echoed from Salêve, the Juras, and the Alps of +Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the +lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant +every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself +from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in +Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The most +violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over that part of the lake +which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of Copêt. +Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another darkened +and sometimes disclosed the Môle, a peaked mountain to the east of the +lake. + +While I watched the storm, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with +a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped +my hands, and exclaimed aloud, “William, dear angel! this is thy +funeral, this thy dirge!” As I said these words, I perceived in the +gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I stood +fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning +illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its +gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than +belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the +filthy dæmon to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be (I +shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No sooner did +that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of its truth; my +teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree for support. +The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. Nothing in +human shape could have destroyed that fair child. _He_ was the murderer! +I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible +proof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but it would have +been in vain, for another flash discovered him to me hanging among the +rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont Salêve, a hill that +bounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reached the summit, and +disappeared. + +I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still continued, +and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I revolved in +my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: the whole +train of my progress towards the creation; the appearance of the work of +my own hands alive at my bed side; its departure. Two years had now +nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was +this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a depraved +wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not murdered my +brother? + +No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the +night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not feel +the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in scenes of +evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind, +and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such +as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own +vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy +all that was dear to me. + +Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were +open; and I hastened to my father’s house. My first thought was to +discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be +made. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A +being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at +midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I remembered +also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at the time +that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of delirium to a +tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that if any other had +communicated such a relation to me, I should have looked upon it as the +ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature of the animal would +elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited as to persuade my +relatives to commence it. Besides, of what use would be pursuit? Who +could arrest a creature capable of scaling the overhanging sides of Mont +Salêve? These reflections determined me, and I resolved to remain +silent. + +It was about five in the morning when I entered my father’s house. I +told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library +to attend their usual hour of rising. + +Six years had elapsed, passed as a dream but for one indelible trace, +and I stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father before +my departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and respectable parent! He still +remained to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood over +the mantle-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at my father’s +desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony of despair, +kneeling by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb was rustic, and her +cheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty, that hardly +permitted the sentiment of pity. Below this picture was a miniature of +William; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it. While I was thus +engaged, Ernest entered: he had heard me arrive, and hastened to welcome +me. He expressed a sorrowful delight to see me: “Welcome, my dearest +Victor,” said he. “Ah! I wish you had come three months ago, and then +you would have found us all joyous and delighted. But we are now +unhappy; and, I am afraid, tears instead of smiles will be your welcome. +Our father looks so sorrowful: this dreadful event seems to have revived +in his mind his grief on the death of Mamma. Poor Elizabeth also is +quite inconsolable.” Ernest began to weep as he said these words. + +“Do not,” said I, “welcome me thus; try to be more calm, that I may not +be absolutely miserable the moment I enter my father’s house after so +long an absence. But, tell me, how does my father support his +misfortunes? and how is my poor Elizabeth?” + +“She indeed requires consolation; she accused herself of having caused +the death of my brother, and that made her very wretched. But since the +murderer has been discovered——” + +“The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt +to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the +winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.” + +“I do not know what you mean; but we were all very unhappy when she was +discovered. No one would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth +will not be convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who +would credit that Justine Moritz, who was so amiable, and fond of all +the family, could all at once become so extremely wicked?” + +“Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is +wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?” + +“No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have +almost forced conviction upon us: and her own behaviour has been so +confused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear, +leaves no hope for doubt. But she will be tried to-day, and you will +then hear all.” + +He related that, the morning on which the murder of poor William had +been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to her bed; +and, after several days, one of the servants, happening to examine the +apparel she had worn on the night of the murder, had discovered in her +pocket the picture of my mother, which had been judged to be the +temptation of the murderer. The servant instantly shewed it to one of +the others, who, without saying a word to any of the family, went to a +magistrate; and, upon their deposition, Justine was apprehended. On +being charged with the fact, the poor girl confirmed the suspicion in a +great measure by her extreme confusion of manner. + +This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied +earnestly, “You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor, +good Justine, is innocent.” + +At that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressed on +his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and, after +we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced some other +topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed, “Good God, +Papa! Victor says that he knows who was the murderer of poor William.” + +“We do also, unfortunately,” replied my father; “for indeed I had rather +have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much depravity and +ingratitude in one I valued so highly.” + +“My dear father, you are mistaken; Justine is innocent.” + +“If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty. She is to be +tried to-day, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted.” + +This speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind that +Justine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. I +had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be +brought forward strong enough to convict her; and, in this assurance, I +calmed myself, expecting the trial with eagerness, but without +prognosticating an evil result. + +We were soon joined by Elizabeth. Time had made great alterations in her +form since I had last beheld her. Six years before she had been a +pretty, good-humoured girl, whom every one loved and caressed. She was +now a woman in stature and expression of countenance, which was +uncommonly lovely. An open and capacious forehead gave indications of a +good understanding, joined to great frankness of disposition. Her eyes +were hazel, and expressive of mildness, now through recent affliction +allied to sadness. Her hair was of a rich, dark auburn, her complexion +fair, and her figure slight and graceful. She welcomed me with the +greatest affection. “Your arrival, my dear cousin,” said she, “fills me +with hope. You perhaps will find some means to justify my poor guiltless +Justine. Alas! who is safe, if she be convicted of crime? I rely on her +innocence as certainly as I do upon my own. Our misfortune is doubly +hard to us; we have not only lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor +girl, whom I sincerely love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If +she is condemned, I never shall know joy more. But she will not, I am +sure she will not; and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad +death of my little William.” + +“She is innocent, my Elizabeth,” said I, “and that shall be proved; +fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her +acquittal.” + +“How kind you are! every one else believes in her guilt, and that made +me wretched; for I knew that it was impossible: and to see every one +else prejudiced in so deadly a manner, rendered me hopeless and +despairing.” She wept. + +“Sweet niece,” said my father, “dry your tears. If she is, as you +believe, innocent, rely on the justice of our judges, and the activity +with which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of partiality.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +We passed a few sad hours, until eleven o’clock, when the trial was to +commence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend +as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of this +wretched mockery of justice, I suffered living torture. It was to be +decided, whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would +cause the death of two of my fellow-beings: one a smiling babe, full of +innocence and joy; the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every +aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror. +Justine also was a girl of merit, and possessed qualities which promised +to render her life happy: now all was to be obliterated in an +ignominious grave; and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I have +confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine; but I was +absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have been +considered as the ravings of a madman, and would not have exculpated her +who suffered through me. + +The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning; and her +countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her +feelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in +innocence, and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by +thousands; for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have +excited, was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the +imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She was +tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as her +confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she worked up +her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the court, she +threw her eyes round it, and quickly discovered where we were seated. A +tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us; but she quickly recovered +herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest her utter +guiltlessness. + +The trial began; and after the advocate against her had stated the +charge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined +against her, which might have staggered any one who had not such proof +of her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on +which the murder had been committed, and towards morning had been +perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the +murdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she +did there; but she looked very strangely, and only returned a confused +and unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight +o’clock; and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she +replied, that she had been looking for the child, and demanded +earnestly, if any thing had been heard concerning him. When shewn the +body, she fell into violent hysterics, and kept her bed for several +days. The picture was then produced, which the servant had found in her +pocket; and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the +same which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed +round his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court. + +Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her +countenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery, were strongly +expressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears; but when she was +desired to plead, she collected her powers, and spoke in an audible +although variable voice:— + +“God knows,” she said, “how entirely I am innocent. But I do not pretend +that my protestations should acquit me: I rest my innocence on a plain +and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced against me; +and I hope the character I have always borne will incline my judges to a +favourable interpretation, where any circumstance appears doubtful or +suspicious.” + +She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed +the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed, at the +house of an aunt at Chêne, a village situated at about a league from +Geneva. On her return, at about nine o’clock, she met a man, who asked +her if she had seen any thing of the child who was lost. She was alarmed +by this account, and passed several hours in looking for him, when the +gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain several hours of +the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being unwilling to call up +the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Unable to rest or sleep, +she quitted her asylum early, that she might again endeavour to find my +brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay, it was +without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when questioned by +the market-woman, was not surprising, since she had passed a sleepless +night, and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain. Concerning the +picture she could give no account. + +“I know,” continued the unhappy victim, “how heavily and fatally this +one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining +it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to +conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been +placed in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I have +no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to +destroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no +opportunity afforded him for so doing; or if I had, why should he have +stolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon? + +“I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for +hope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my +character; and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed guilt, +I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my +innocence.” + +Several witnesses were called, who had known her for many years, and +they spoke well of her; but fear, and hatred of the crime of which they +supposed her guilty, rendered them timorous, and unwilling to come +forward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent +dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused, +when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address the +court. + +“I am,” said she, “the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or +rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his parents +ever since and even long before his birth. It may therefore be judged +indecent in me to come forward on this occasion; but when I see a +fellow-creature about to perish through the cowardice of her pretended +friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I know of +her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have lived in +the same house with her, at one time for five, and at another for nearly +two years. During all that period she appeared to me the most amiable +and benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame Frankenstein, my +aunt, in her last illness with the greatest affection and care; and +afterwards attended her own mother during a tedious illness, in a manner +that excited the admiration of all who knew her. After which she again +lived in my uncle’s house, where she was beloved by all the family. She +was warmly attached to the child who is now dead, and acted towards him +like a most affectionate mother. For my own part, I do not hesitate to +say, that, notwithstanding all the evidence produced against her, I +believe and rely on her perfect innocence. She had no temptation for +such an action: as to the bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she +had earnestly desired it, I should have willingly given it to her; so +much do I esteem and value her.” + +Excellent Elizabeth! A murmur of approbation was heard; but it was +excited by her generous interference, and not in favour of poor Justine, +on whom the public indignation was turned with renewed violence, +charging her with the blackest ingratitude. She herself wept as +Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My own agitation and anguish +was extreme during the whole trial. I believed in her innocence; I knew +it. Could the dæmon, who had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my +brother, also in his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death +and ignominy. I could not sustain the horror of my situation; and when I +perceived that the popular voice, and the countenances of the judges, +had already condemned my unhappy victim, I rushed out of the court in +agony. The tortures of the accused did not equal mine; she was sustained +by innocence, but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom, and would not +forego their hold. + +I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to the +court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal +question; but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my +visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine was +condemned. + +I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before experienced +sensations of horror; and I have endeavoured to bestow upon them +adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the +heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I +addressed myself added, that Justine had already confessed her guilt. +“That evidence,” he observed, “was hardly required in so glaring a case, +but I am glad of it; and, indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a +criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive.” + +When I returned home, Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result. + +“My cousin,” replied I, “it is decided as you may have expected; all +judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer, than that one guilty +should escape. But she has confessed.” + +This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness +upon Justine’s innocence. “Alas!” said she, “how shall I ever again +believe in human benevolence? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my +sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray; +her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or ill-humour, and yet +she has committed a murder.” + +Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a wish to see my +cousin. My father wished her not to go; but said, that he left it to her +own judgment and feelings to decide. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, “I will go, +although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me: I cannot go +alone.” The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I could not +refuse. + +We entered the gloomy prison-chamber, and beheld Justine sitting on some +straw at the further end; her hands were manacled, and her head rested +on her knees. She rose on seeing us enter; and when we were left alone +with her, she threw herself at the feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly. +My cousin wept also. + +“Oh, Justine!” said she, “why did you rob me of my last consolation. I +relied on your innocence; and although I was then very wretched, I was +not so miserable as I am now.” + +“And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also +join with my enemies to crush me?” Her voice was suffocated with sobs. + +“Rise, my poor girl,” said Elizabeth, “why do you kneel, if you are +innocent? I am not one of your enemies; I believed you guiltless, +notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself +declared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be assured, +dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment, +but your own confession.” + +“I did confess; but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might obtain +absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than all my +other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was condemned, my +confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced, until I almost +began to think that I was the monster that he said I was. He threatened +excommunication and hell fire in my last moments, if I continued +obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked on me as a +wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do? In an evil +hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly miserable.” + +She paused, weeping, and then continued—“I thought with horror, my +sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed aunt +had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable of a +crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated. Dear +William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in heaven, +where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I am to +suffer ignominy and death.” + +“Oh, Justine! forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. Why +did you confess? But do not mourn, my dear girl; I will every where +proclaim your innocence, and force belief. Yet you must die; you, my +playfellow, my companion, my more than sister. I never can survive so +horrible a misfortune.” + +“Dear, sweet Elizabeth, do not weep. You ought to raise me with thoughts +of a better life, and elevate me from the petty cares of this world of +injustice and strife. Do not you, excellent friend, drive me to +despair.” + +“I will try to comfort you; but this, I fear, is an evil too deep and +poignant to admit of consolation, for there is no hope. Yet heaven +bless thee, my dearest Justine, with resignation, and a confidence +elevated beyond this world. Oh! how I hate its shews and mockeries! when +one creature is murdered, another is immediately deprived of life in a +slow torturing manner; then the executioners, their hands yet reeking +with the blood of innocence, believe that they have done a great deed. +They call this _retribution_. Hateful name! When that word is +pronounced, I know greater and more horrid punishments are going to be +inflicted than the gloomiest tyrant has ever invented to satiate his +utmost revenge. Yet this is not consolation for you, my Justine, unless +indeed that you may glory in escaping from so miserable a den. Alas! I +would I were in peace with my aunt and my lovely William, escaped from a +world which is hateful to me, and the visages of men which I abhor.” + +Justine smiled languidly. “This, dear lady, is despair, and not +resignation. I must not learn the lesson that you would teach me. Talk +of something else, something that will bring peace, and not increase of +misery.” + +During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison-room, +where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! Who +dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass the +dreary boundary between life and death, felt not as I did, such deep and +bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth, and ground them together, uttering a +groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. When she saw who +it was, she approached me, and said, “Dear Sir, you are very kind to +visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty.” + +I could not answer. “No, Justine,” said Elizabeth; “he is more convinced +of your innocence than I was; for even when he heard that you had +confessed, he did not credit it.” + +“I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest gratitude +towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is the affection +of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than half my +misfortune; and I feel as if I could die in peace, now that my innocence +is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin.” + +Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed +gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the +never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or +consolation. Elizabeth also wept, and was unhappy; but her’s also was +the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair +moon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and +despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within +me, which nothing could extinguish. We staid several hours with Justine; +and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear herself away. +“I wish,” cried she, “that I were to die with you; I cannot live in this +world of misery.” + +Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty +repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth, and said, in a voice +of half-suppressed emotion, “Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth, my +beloved and only friend; may heaven in its bounty bless and preserve +you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever suffer. Live, +and be happy, and make others so.” + +As we returned, Elizabeth said, “You know not, my dear Victor, how much +I am relieved, now that I trust in the innocence of this unfortunate +girl. I never could again have known peace, if I had been deceived in my +reliance on her. For the moment that I did believe her guilty, I felt an +anguish that I could not have long sustained. Now my heart is lightened. +The innocent suffers; but she whom I thought amiable and good has not +betrayed the trust I reposed in her, and I am consoled.” + +Amiable cousin! such were your thoughts, mild and gentle as your own +dear eyes and voice. But I—I was a wretch, and none ever conceived of +the misery that I then endured. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + +FRANKENSTEIN; + +OR, + +THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + VOL. II. + + London: + + _PRINTED FOR_ + LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES, + FINSBURY SQUARE. + + 1818. + + * * * * * + + Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay + To mould me man? Did I solicit thee + From darkness to promote me?—— + + Paradise Lost. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Nothing is more painful to the human mind, than, after the feelings have +been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of +inaction and certainty which follows, and deprives the soul both of hope +and fear. Justine died; she rested; and I was alive. The blood flowed +freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my +heart, which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered +like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond +description horrible, and more, much more, (I persuaded myself) was yet +behind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness, and the love of virtue. I +had begun life with benevolent intentions, and thirsted for the moment +when I should put them in practice, and make myself useful to my +fellow-beings. Now all was blasted: instead of that serenity of +conscience, which allowed me to look back upon the past with +self-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I +was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to +a hell of intense tortures, such as no language can describe. + +This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered +from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all +sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only +consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude. + +My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my +disposition and habits, and endeavoured to reason with me on the folly +of giving way to immoderate grief. “Do you think, Victor,” said he, +“that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved +your brother;” (tears came into his eyes as he spoke); “but is it not a +duty to the survivors, that we should refrain from augmenting their +unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed +to yourself; for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or +even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for +society.” + +This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I +should have been the first to hide my grief, and console my friends, if +remorse had not mingled its bitterness with my other sensations. Now I +could only answer my father with a look of despair, and endeavour to +hide myself from his view. + +About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was +particularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at ten +o’clock, and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that +hour, had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome +to me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had retired +for the night, I took the boat, and passed many hours upon the water. +Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and sometimes, +after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to pursue its +own course, and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I was often +tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only unquiet thing +that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and heavenly, if I except +some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard +only when I approached the shore—often, I say, I was tempted to plunge +into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my +calamities for ever. But I was restrained, when I thought of the heroic +and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly loved, and whose existence was +bound up in mine. I thought also of my father, and surviving brother: +should I by my base desertion leave them exposed and unprotected to the +malice of the fiend whom I had let loose among them? + +At these moments I wept bitterly, and wished that peace would revisit my +mind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that +could not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of +unalterable evils; and I lived in daily fear, lest the monster whom I +had created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure +feeling that all was not over, and that he would still commit some +signal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface the +recollection of the past. There was always scope for fear, so long as +any thing I loved remained behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot be +conceived. When I thought of him, I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became +inflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so +thoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my +hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a +pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I, when there, have +precipitated him to their base. I wished to see him again, that I might +wreak the utmost extent of anger on his head, and avenge the deaths of +William and Justine. + +Our house was the house of mourning. My father’s health was deeply +shaken by the horror of the recent events. Elizabeth was sad and +desponding; she no longer took delight in her ordinary occupations; all +pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the dead; eternal woe and tears +she then thought was the just tribute she should pay to innocence so +blasted and destroyed. She was no longer that happy creature, who in +earlier youth wandered with me on the banks of the lake, and talked with +ecstacy of our future prospects. She had become grave, and often +conversed of the inconstancy of fortune, and the instability of human +life. + +“When I reflect, my dear cousin,” said she, “on the miserable death of +Justine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they before +appeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and +injustice, that I read in books or heard from others, as tales of +ancient days, or imaginary evils; at least they were remote, and more +familiar to reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come +home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood. +Yet I am certainly unjust. Every body believed that poor girl to be +guilty; and if she could have committed the crime for which she +suffered, assuredly she would have been the most depraved of human +creatures. For the sake of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her +benefactor and friend, a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and +appeared to love as if it had been her own! I could not consent to the +death of any human being; but certainly I should have thought such a +creature unfit to remain in the society of men. Yet she was innocent. I +know, I feel she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that +confirms me. Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, +who can assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were +walking on the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are +crowding, and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and +Justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the +world free, and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to +suffer on the scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places +with such a wretch.” + +I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I, not in deed, +but in effect, was the true murderer. Elizabeth read my anguish in my +countenance, and kindly taking my hand said, “My dearest cousin, you +must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how deeply; +but I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of despair, +and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance, that makes me tremble. Be +calm, my dear Victor; I would sacrifice my life to your peace. We surely +shall be happy: quiet in our native country, and not mingling in the +world, what can disturb our tranquillity?” + +She shed tears as she said this, distrusting the very solace that she +gave; but at the same time she smiled, that she might chase away the +fiend that lurked in my heart. My father, who saw in the unhappiness +that was painted in my face only an exaggeration of that sorrow which I +might naturally feel, thought that an amusement suited to my taste would +be the best means of restoring to me my wonted serenity. It was from +this cause that he had removed to the country; and, induced by the same +motive, he now proposed that we should all make an excursion to the +valley of Chamounix. I had been there before, but Elizabeth and Ernest +never had; and both had often expressed an earnest desire to see the +scenery of this place, which had been described to them as so wonderful +and sublime. Accordingly we departed from Geneva on this tour about the +middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of +Justine. + +The weather was uncommonly fine; and if mine had been a sorrow to be +chased away by any fleeting circumstance, this excursion would certainly +have had the effect intended by my father. As it was, I was somewhat +interested in the scene; it sometimes lulled, although it could not +extinguish my grief. During the first day we travelled in a carriage. In +the morning we had seen the mountains at a distance, towards which we +gradually advanced. We perceived that the valley through which we wound, +and which was formed by the river Arve, whose course we followed, closed +in upon us by degrees; and when the sun had set, we beheld immense +mountains and precipices overhanging us on every side, and heard the +sound of the river raging among rocks, and the dashing of water-falls +around. + +The next day we pursued our journey upon mules; and as we ascended still +higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character. +Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains; the +impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from +among the trees, formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented +and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and shining +pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another earth, the +habitations of another race of beings. + +We passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the river +forms, opened before us, and we began to ascend the mountain that +overhangs it. Soon after we entered the valley of Chamounix. This valley +is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and picturesque as +that of Servox, through which we had just passed. The high and snowy +mountains were its immediate boundaries; but we saw no more ruined +castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached the road; we +heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche, and marked the +smoke of its passage. Mont Blânc, the supreme and magnificent Mont +Blânc, raised itself from the surrounding _aiguilles_, and its +tremendous _dome_ overlooked the valley. + +During this journey, I sometimes joined Elizabeth, and exerted myself to +point out to her the various beauties of the scene. I often suffered my +mule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection. At other +times I spurred on the animal before my companions, that I might forget +them, the world, and, more than all, myself. When at a distance, I +alighted, and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and +despair. At eight in the evening I arrived at Chamounix. My father and +Elizabeth were very much fatigued; Ernest, who accompanied us, was +delighted, and in high spirits: the only circumstance that detracted +from his pleasure was the south wind, and the rain it seemed to promise +for the next day. + +We retired early to our apartments, but not to sleep; at least I did +not. I remained many hours at the window, watching the pallid lightning +that played above Mont Blânc, and listening to the rushing of the Arve, +which ran below my window. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The next day, contrary to the prognostications of our guides, was fine, +although clouded. We visited the source of the Arveiron, and rode about +the valley until evening. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded +me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They +elevated me from all littleness of feeling; and although they did not +remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree, +also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded +for the last month. I returned in the evening, fatigued, but less +unhappy, and conversed with my family with more cheerfulness than had +been my custom for some time. My father was pleased, and Elizabeth +overjoyed. “My dear cousin,” said she, “you see what happiness you +diffuse when you are happy; do not relapse again!” + +The following morning the rain poured down in torrents, and thick mists +hid the summits of the mountains. I rose early, but felt unusually +melancholy. The rain depressed me; my old feelings recurred, and I was +miserable. I knew how disappointed my father would be at this sudden +change, and I wished to avoid him until I had recovered myself so far as +to be enabled to conceal those feelings that overpowered me. I knew +that they would remain that day at the inn; and as I had ever inured +myself to rain, moisture, and cold, I resolved to go alone to the summit +of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous +and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. +It had then filled me with a sublime ecstacy that gave wings to the +soul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. +The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the +effect of solemnizing my mind, and causing me to forget the passing +cares of life. I determined to go alone, for I was well acquainted with +the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary +grandeur of the scene. + +The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short +windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the +mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the +traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken +and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning +upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other +trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of +snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is +particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in +a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw +destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or +luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene. +I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers +which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite +mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain +poured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I +received from the objects around me. Alas! why does man boast of +sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders +them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, +thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by +every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may +convey to us. + + We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. + We rise; one wand’ring thought pollutes the day. + We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh, or weep, + Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; + It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, + The path of its departure still is free. + Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow; + Nought may endure but mutability! + +It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some +time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered +both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated +the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very uneven, +rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and +interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a +league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The +opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I +now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league; +and above it rose Mont Blânc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess +of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, or +rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose +aërial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks +shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before +sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed—“Wandering +spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow +me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, away from the +joys of life.” + +As I said this, I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, +advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices +in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature also, as +he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came +over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly +restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape +came nearer, (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch +whom I had created. I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait +his approach, and then close with him in mortal combat. He approached; +his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and +malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible +for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; anger and hatred had at +first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him +with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt. + +“Devil!” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? and do not you fear the +fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile +insect! or rather stay, that I may trample you to dust! and, oh, that I +could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those +victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!” + +“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; +how then must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet +you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art +bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You +purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty +towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If +you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; +but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated +with the blood of your remaining friends.” + +“Abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! the tortures of hell are too +mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! you reproach me with +your creation; come on then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so +negligently bestowed.” + +My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the +feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another. + +He easily eluded me, and said, + +“Be calm! I entreat you to hear me, before you give vent to your hatred +on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to +increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of +anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made +me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine; my joints +more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to +thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my +natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which +thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other, and +trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and +affection, is most due. Remember, that I am thy creature: I ought to be +thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy +for no misdeed. Every where I see bliss, from which I alone am +irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. +Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.” + +“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and +me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, in +which one must fall.” + +“How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable +eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe +me, Frankenstein: I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and +humanity: but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor +me; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me +nothing? they spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary +glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the caves of +ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one +which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder +to me than your fellow-beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my +existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my +destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no +terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my +wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them +from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that not +only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed +up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do +not disdain me. Listen to my tale: when you have heard that, abandon or +commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The +guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they may be, to speak in +their own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein. +You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, +destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I +ask you not to spare me: listen to me; and then, if you can, and if you +will, destroy the work of your hands.” + +“Why do you call to my remembrance circumstances of which I shudder to +reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and author? Cursed be the +day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light! Cursed (although I +curse myself) be the hands that formed you! You have made me wretched +beyond expression. You have left me no power to consider whether I am +just to you, or not. Begone! relieve me from the sight of your detested +form.” + +“Thus I relieve thee, my creator,” he said, and placed his hated hands +before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; “thus I take from +thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me, and grant +me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this +from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of +this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon +the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends to +hide itself behind yon snowy precipices, and illuminate another world, +you will have heard my story, and can decide. On you it rests, whether I +quit for ever the neighbourhood of man, and lead a harmless life, or +become the scourge of your fellow-creatures, and the author of your own +speedy ruin.” + +As he said this, he led the way across the ice: I followed. My heart was +full, and I did not answer him; but, as I proceeded, I weighed the +various arguments that he had used, and determined at least to listen to +his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my +resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my +brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion. +For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards +his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I +complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his +demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock. +The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend: we entered the +hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy heart, and +depressed spirits. But I consented to listen; and, seating myself by the +fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began his tale. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +“It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original æra of +my being: all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. +A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard, +and smelt, at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I +learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By +degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I +was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me, and troubled +me; but hardly had I felt this, when, by opening my eyes, as I now +suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked, and, I believe, +descended; but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations. +Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my touch +or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with no +obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light became +more and more oppressive to me; and, the heat wearying me as I walked, I +sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near +Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting from my +fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me +from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I found +hanging on the trees, or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the +brook; and then lying down, was overcome by sleep. + +“It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half-frightened as it +were instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted +your apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some +clothes; but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of +night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could +distinguish, nothing; but, feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat +down and wept. + +“Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of +pleasure. I started up, and beheld a radiant form rise from among the +trees. I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly, but it +enlightened my path; and I again went out in search of berries. I was +still cold, when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with which +I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinct ideas +occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger, and +thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rung in my ears, and on all +sides various scents saluted me: the only object that I could +distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with +pleasure. + +“Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had +greatly lessened when I began to distinguish my sensations from each +other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with +drink, and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted +when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my +ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had +often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, with +greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me, and to perceive the +boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I +tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable. +Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the +uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into +silence again. + +“The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened +form, shewed itself, while I still remained in the forest. My sensations +had, by this time, become distinct, and my mind received every day +additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light, and to +perceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from +the herb, and, by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the +sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and +thrush were sweet and enticing. + +“One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been +left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the +warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live +embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, I +thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! I +examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be +composed of wood. I quickly collected some branches; but they were wet, +and would not burn. I was pained at this, and sat still watching the +operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat +dried, and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this; and, by touching +the various branches, I discovered the cause, and busied myself in +collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it, and have a +plentiful supply of fire. When night came on, and brought sleep with it, +I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I +covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves, and placed wet branches +upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground, and sunk +into sleep. + +“It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. I +uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I +observed this also, and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the +embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again, I +found, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat; and that +the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food; for I found +some of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and +tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I +tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on the +live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this operation, +and the nuts and roots much improved. + +“Food, however, became scarce; and I often spent the whole day searching +in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When I found +this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto inhabited, to +seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be more easily +satisfied. In this emigration, I exceedingly lamented the loss of the +fire which I had obtained through accident, and knew not how to +re-produce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of +this difficulty; but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply +it; and, wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood +towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles, and at +length discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken place +the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the +appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold +damp substance that covered the ground. + +“It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and +shelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which +had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This was +a new sight to me; and I examined the structure with great curiosity. +Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it, near a fire, +over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on hearing a noise; +and, perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and, quitting the hut, ran across +the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared +capable. His appearance, different from any I had ever before seen, and +his flight, somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted by the appearance +of the hut: here the snow and rain could not penetrate; the ground was +dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite and divine a retreat as +Pandæmonium appeared to the dæmons of hell after their sufferings in the +lake of fire. I greedily devoured the remnants of the shepherd’s +breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, milk, and wine; the +latter, however, I did not like. Then overcome by fatigue, I lay down +among some straw, and fell asleep. + +“It was noon when I awoke; and, allured by the warmth of the sun, which +shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my +travels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant’s breakfast in a +wallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until +at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! the +huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses, engaged my admiration by +turns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw +placed at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One +of the best of these I entered; but I had hardly placed my foot within +the door, before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted. +The whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until, +grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I +escaped to the open country, and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel, +quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had +beheld in the village. This hovel, however, joined a cottage of a neat +and pleasant appearance; but, after my late dearly-bought experience, I +dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so +low, that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however, +was placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and +although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an +agreeable asylum from the snow and rain. + +“Here then I retreated, and lay down, happy to have found a shelter, +however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more +from the barbarity of man. + +“As soon as morning dawned, I crept from my kennel, that I might view +the adjacent cottage, and discover if I could remain in the habitation I +had found. It was situated against the back of the cottage, and +surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig-stye and a clear +pool of water. One part was open, and by that I had crept in; but now I +covered every crevice by which I might be perceived with stones and +wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on occasion to pass +out: all the light I enjoyed came through the stye, and that was +sufficient for me. + +“Having thus arranged my dwelling, and carpeted it with clean straw, I +retired; for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered +too well my treatment the night before, to trust myself in his power. I +had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day, by a loaf +of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink, +more conveniently than from my hand, of the pure water which flowed by +my retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept perfectly +dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was tolerably +warm. + +“Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel, until +something should occur which might alter my determination. It was indeed +a paradise, compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, the +rain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with +pleasure, and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little +water, when I heard a step, and, looking through a small chink, I beheld +a young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The +girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found +cottagers and farm-house servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a +coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair +hair was plaited, but not adorned; she looked patient, yet sad. I lost +sight of her; and in about a quarter of an hour she returned, bearing +the pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along, +seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose +countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with +an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head, and bore it to the +cottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw the +young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field behind the +cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the house, and +sometimes in the yard. + +“On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the +cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been +filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost +imperceptible chink, through which the eye could just penetrate. Through +this crevice, a small room was visible, white-washed and clean, but very +bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an old man, +leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The young girl +was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she took something +out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat down beside the +old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play, and to produce +sounds, sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the nightingale. It was +a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch! who had never beheld aught +beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged +cottager, won my reverence; while the gentle manners of the girl enticed +my love. He played a sweet mournful air, which I perceived drew tears +from the eyes of his amiable companion, of which the old man took no +notice, until she sobbed audibly; he then pronounced a few sounds, and +the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt at his feet. He raised her, +and smiled with such kindness and affection, that I felt sensations of a +peculiar and over-powering nature: they were a mixture of pain and +pleasure, such as I had never before experienced, either from hunger or +cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the window, unable to bear +these emotions. + +“Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a load +of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of his +burden, and, taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on the +fire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage, and +he shewed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed pleased; +and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she placed in +water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her work, whilst +the young man went into the garden, and appeared busily employed in +digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed thus about an +hour, the young woman joined him, and they entered the cottage together. + +“The old man had, in the mean time, been pensive; but, on the appearance +of his companions, he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to +eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again occupied +in arranging the cottage; the old man walked before the cottage in the +sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. Nothing could +exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent creatures. One +was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming with benevolence +and love: the younger was slight and graceful in his figure, and his +features were moulded with the finest symmetry; yet his eyes and +attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The old man +returned to the cottage; and the youth, with tools different from those +he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the fields. + +“Night quickly shut in; but, to my extreme wonder, I found that the +cottagers had a means of prolonging light, by the use of tapers, and was +delighted to find, that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the +pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the evening, +the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations +which I did not understand; and the old man again took up the +instrument, which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in +the morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play, +but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the +harmony of the old man’s instrument or the songs of the birds; I since +found that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the science +of words or letters. + +“The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time, +extinguished their lights, and retired, as I conjectured, to rest.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +“I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the occurrences +of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these +people; and I longed to join them, but dared not. I remembered too well +the treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous +villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I might hereafter +think it right to pursue, that for the present I would remain quietly in +my hovel, watching, and endeavouring to discover the motives which +influenced their actions. + +“The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman +arranged the cottage, and prepared the food; and the youth departed +after the first meal. + +“This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it. The +young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various +laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon perceived to be +blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument, or in +contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the +younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. They +performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with +gentleness; and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles. + +“They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often +went apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness; +but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were +miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, +should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They +possessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes), and every +luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill, and delicious viands +when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more, +they enjoyed one another’s company and speech, interchanging each day +looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they +really express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions; but +perpetual attention, and time, explained to me many appearances which +were at first enigmatic. + +“A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of +the uneasiness of this amiable family; it was poverty: and they suffered +that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment consisted +entirely of the vegetables of their garden, and the milk of one cow, who +gave very little during the winter, when its masters could scarcely +procure food to support it. They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of +hunger very poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers; for +several times they placed food before the old man, when they reserved +none for themselves. + +“This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed, +during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own consumption; +but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on the cottagers, I +abstained, and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and roots, which I +gathered from a neighbouring wood. + +“I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist +their labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day in +collecting wood for the family fire; and, during the night, I often took +his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home +firing sufficient for the consumption of several days. + +“I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she +opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a +great pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud +voice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I +observed, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, but +spent it in repairing the cottage, and cultivating the garden. + +“By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that +these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and +feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words +they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in +the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike +science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was +baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation +was quick; and the words they uttered, not having any apparent connexion +with visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could +unravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however, +and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the +moon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the +most familiar objects of discourse: I learned and applied the words +_fire_, _milk_, _bread_, and _wood_. I learned also the names of the +cottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each of them +several names, but the old man had only one, which was _father_. The +girl was called _sister_, or _Agatha_; and the youth _Felix_, _brother_, +or _son_. I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas +appropriated to each of these sounds, and was able to pronounce them. I +distinguished several other words, without being able as yet to +understand or apply them; such as _good_, _dearest_, _unhappy_. + +“I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of the +cottagers greatly endeared them to me: when they were unhappy, I felt +depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw few +human beings beside them; and if any other happened to enter the +cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the +superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive, +often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that +he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a +cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure +even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled +with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I +generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after +having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus with +Felix. He was always the saddest of the groupe; and, even to my +unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his +friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more +cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old +man. + +“I could mention innumerable instances, which, although slight, marked +the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty and +want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white +flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in the +morning before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed +her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and brought the +wood from the out-house, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found +his store always replenished by an invisible hand. In the day, I +believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring farmer, because he often +went forth, and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with +him. At other times he worked in the garden; but, as there was little to +do in the frosty season, he read to the old man and Agatha. + +“This reading had puzzled me extremely at first; but, by degrees, I +discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when +he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs +for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend +these also; but how was that possible, when I did not even understand +the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however, sensibly +in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of +conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour: for I +easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to +the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become +master of their language; which knowledge might enable me to make them +overlook the deformity of my figure; for with this also the contrast +perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted. + +“I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers—their grace, beauty, +and delicate complexions: but how was I terrified, when I viewed myself +in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that +it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became fully +convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with +the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. Alas! I did +not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity. + +“As the sun became warmer, and the light of day longer, the snow +vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this +time Felix was more employed; and the heart-moving indications of +impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was +coarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it. +Several new kinds of plants sprung up in the garden, which they dressed; +and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced. + +“The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did +not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its +waters. This frequently took place; but a high wind quickly dried the +earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been. + +“My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I attended +the motions of the cottagers; and when they were dispersed in various +occupations, I slept: the remainder of the day was spent in observing my +friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any moon, or the +night was star-light, I went into the woods, and collected my own food +and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it was necessary, +I cleared their path from the snow, and performed those offices that I +had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these labours, performed +by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and once or twice I heard +them, on these occasions, utter the words _good spirit_, _wonderful_; +but I did not then understand the signification of these terms. + +“My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the +motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to +know why Felix appeared so miserable, and Agatha so sad. I thought +(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to +these deserving people. When I slept, or was absent, the forms of the +venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix, +flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings, who would be +the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a thousand +pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of me. I +imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle demeanour and +conciliating words, I should first win their favour, and afterwards +their love. + +“These thoughts exhilarated me, and led me to apply with fresh ardour to +the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but +supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their +tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease. +It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass, whose +intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved +better treatment than blows and execration. + +“The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the +aspect of the earth. Men, who before this change seemed to have been hid +in caves, dispersed themselves, and were employed in various arts of +cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves +began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! fit habitation for +gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and unwholesome. +My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the +past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the +future gilded by bright rays of hope, and anticipations of joy.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +“I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate events +that impressed me with feelings which, from what I was, have made me +what I am. + +“Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine, and the skies +cloudless. It surprised me, that what before was desert and gloomy +should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My senses +were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight, and a +thousand sights of beauty. + +“It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested from +labour—the old man played on his guitar, and the children listened to +him—I observed that the countenance of Felix was melancholy beyond +expression: he sighed frequently; and once his father paused in his +music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired the cause of his +son’s sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and the old man was +recommencing his music, when some one tapped at the door. + +“It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a countryman as a guide. The +lady was dressed in a dark suit, and covered with a thick black veil. +Agatha asked a question; to which the stranger only replied by +pronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice was +musical, but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word, +Felix came up hastily to the lady; who, when she saw him, threw up her +veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her +hair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were +dark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular +proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with a +lovely pink. + +“Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of +sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of +ecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his eyes +sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I +thought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by +different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held +out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously, and called her, as +well as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to +understand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and, dismissing +her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some conversation took place +between him and his father; and the young stranger knelt at the old +man’s feet, and would have kissed his hand, but he raised her, and +embraced her affectionately. + +“I soon perceived, that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds, +and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood +by, or herself understood, the cottagers. They made many signs which I +did not comprehend; but I saw that her presence diffused gladness +through the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the +morning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy, and with smiles of delight +welcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed the hands +of the lovely stranger; and, pointing to her brother, made signs which +appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she came. Some +hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances, expressed joy, the +cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I found, by the frequent +recurrence of one sound which the stranger repeated after them, that she +was endeavouring to learn their language; and the idea instantly +occurred to me, that I should make use of the same instructions to the +same end. The stranger learned about twenty words at the first lesson, +most of them indeed were those which I had before understood, but I +profited by the others. + +“As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they +separated, Felix kissed the hand of the stranger, and said, ‘Good night, +sweet Safie.’ He sat up much longer, conversing with his father; and, by +the frequent repetition of her name, I conjectured that their lovely +guest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to +understand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found +it utterly impossible. + +“The next morning Felix went out to his work; and, after the usual +occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the +old man, and, taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly +beautiful, that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my +eyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or +dying away, like a nightingale of the woods. + +“When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first +declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in +sweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The old +man appeared enraptured, and said some words, which Agatha endeavoured +to explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that +she bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music. + +“The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration, +that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends. +Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the +knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most +of the words uttered by my protectors. + +“In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and +the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the +scent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods; +the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal +rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably +shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun; for I never +ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same +treatment as I had formerly endured in the first village which I +entered. + +“My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily +master the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than +the Arabian, who understood very little, and conversed in broken +accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that +was spoken. + +“While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters, as it +was taught to the stranger; and this opened before me a wide field for +wonder and delight. + +“The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney’s _Ruins of +Empires_. I should not have understood the purport of this book, had not +Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen this +work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in imitation of +the eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a cursory knowledge of +history, and a view of the several empires at present existing in the +world; it gave me an insight into the manners, governments, and +religions of the different nations of the earth. I heard of the slothful +Asiatics; of the stupendous genius and mental activity of the Grecians; +of the wars and wonderful virtue of the early Romans—of their +subsequent degeneration—of the decline of that mighty empire; of +chivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard of the discovery of the +American hemisphere, and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of its +original inhabitants. + +“These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was man, +indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so +vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil +principle, and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and +godlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour that +can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on record +have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more abject than +that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I could not +conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or even why +there were laws and governments; but when I heard details of vice and +bloodshed, my wonder ceased, and I turned away with disgust and +loathing. + +“Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me. While +I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the Arabian, +the strange system of human society was explained to me. I heard of the +division of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty; of rank, +descent, and noble blood. + +“The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the +possessions most esteemed by your fellow-creatures were, high and +unsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with only +one of these acquisitions; but without either he was considered, except +in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to waste his +powers for the profit of the chosen few. And what was I? Of my creation +and creator I was absolutely ignorant; but I knew that I possessed no +money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, endowed with a +figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even of the same +nature as man. I was more agile than they, and could subsist upon +coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with less injury to +my frame; my stature far exceeded their’s. When I looked around, I saw +and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth, +from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned? + +“I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted +upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with +knowledge. Oh, that I had for ever remained in my native wood, nor known +or felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat! + +“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it +has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to +shake off all thought and feeling; but I learned that there was but one +means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death—a state +which I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good +feelings, and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my +cottagers; but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except through +means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and unknown, and +which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of becoming one +among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha, and the animated smiles of +the charming Arabian, were not for me. The mild exhortations of the old +man, and the lively conversation of the loved Felix, were not for me. +Miserable, unhappy wretch! + +“Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the +difference of sexes; of the birth and growth of children; how the father +doated on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the older +child; how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapt up in the +precious charge; how the mind of youth expanded and gained knowledge; of +brother, sister, and all the various relationships which bind one human +being to another in mutual bonds. + +“But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my +infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if +they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I +distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I then +was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being resembling +me, or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The question +again recurred, to be answered only with groans. + +“I will soon explain to what these feelings tended; but allow me now to +return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various feelings +of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in +additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in an +innocent, half painful self-deceit, to call them).” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +“Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was +one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding +as it did a number of circumstances each interesting and wonderful to +one so utterly inexperienced as I was. + +“The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good +family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence, +respected by his superiors, and beloved by his equals. His son was bred +in the service of his country; and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the +highest distinction. A few months before my arrival, they had lived in a +large and luxurious city, called Paris, surrounded by friends, and +possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or +taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford. + +“The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish +merchant, and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some reason +which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government. He was +seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from +Constantinople to join him. He was tried, and condemned to death. The +injustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant; +and it was judged that his religion and wealth, rather than the crime +alleged against him, had been the cause of his condemnation. + +“Felix had been present at the trial; his horror and indignation were +uncontrollable, when he heard the decision of the court. He made, at +that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him, and then looked around for the +means. After many fruitless attempts to gain admittance to the prison, +he found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building, +which lighted the dungeon of the unfortunate Mahometan; who, loaded with +chains, waited in despair the execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix +visited the grate at night, and made known to the prisoner his +intentions in his favour. The Turk, amazed and delighted, endeavoured to +kindle the zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix +rejected his offers with contempt; yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who +was allowed to visit her father, and who, by her gestures, expressed her +lively gratitude, the youth could not help owning to his own mind, that +the captive possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and +hazard. + +“The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on +the heart of Felix, and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in his +interests by the promise of her hand in marriage, so soon as he should +be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to accept this +offer; yet he looked forward to the probability of that event as to the +consummation of his happiness. + +“During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for +the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several +letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to +express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old +man, a servant of her father’s, who understood French. She thanked him +in the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her father; +and at the same time she gently deplored her own fate. + +“I have copies of these letters; for I found means, during my residence +in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters were +often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart, I will give them +to you, they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present, as the +sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat the +substance of them to you. + +“Safie related, that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a +slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of +the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and +enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom spurned the +bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the +tenets of her religion, and taught her to aspire to higher powers of +intellect, and an independence of spirit, forbidden to the female +followers of Mahomet. This lady died; but her lessons were indelibly +impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again +returning to Asia, and the being immured within the walls of a harem, +allowed only to occupy herself with puerile amusements, ill suited to +the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble +emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian, and +remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in +society, was enchanting to her. + +“The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed; but, on the night +previous to it, he had quitted prison, and before morning was distant +many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of his +father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his plan to +the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under the +pretence of a journey, and concealed himself, with his daughter, in an +obscure part of Paris. + +“Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons, and across Mont +Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable +opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions. + +“Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his +departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she +should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in +expectation of that event; and in the mean time he enjoyed the society +of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest +affection. They conversed with one another through the means of an +interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie +sang to him the divine airs of her native country. + +“The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place, and encouraged the hopes +of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other +plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a +Christian; but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear +lukewarm; for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer, +if he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they +inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled to +prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and secretly +to take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans were greatly +facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris. + +“The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their +victim, and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The plot +of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were thrown +into prison. The news reached Felix, and roused him from his dream of +pleasure. His blind and aged father, and his gentle sister, lay in a +noisome dungeon, while he enjoyed the free air, and the society of her +whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged with +the Turk, that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity for +escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a +boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian, +he hastened to Paris, and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the +law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding. + +“He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the +trial took place; the result of which deprived them of their fortune, +and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country. + +“They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I +discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for whom +he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on discovering +that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and impotence, became a +traitor to good feeling and honour, and had quitted Italy with his +daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as +he said, in some plan of future maintenance. + +“Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix, and rendered +him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could +have endured poverty, and when this distress had been the meed of his +virtue, he would have gloried in it: but the ingratitude of the Turk, +and the loss of his beloved Safie, were misfortunes more bitter and +irreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his +soul. + +“When the news reached Leghorn, that Felix was deprived of his wealth +and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her +lover, but to prepare to return with him to her native country. The +generous nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to +expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his +tyrannical mandate. + +“A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter’s apartment, and told +her hastily, that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn +had been divulged, and that he should speedily be delivered up to the +French government; he had, consequently, hired a vessel to convey him +to Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He +intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential servant, +to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which +had not yet arrived at Leghorn. + +“When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it +would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was +abhorrent to her; her religion and feelings were alike adverse to it. By +some papers of her father’s, which fell into her hands, she heard of the +exile of her lover, and learnt the name of the spot where he then +resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her +determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her, and a +small sum of money, she quitted Italy, with an attendant, a native of +Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed +for Germany. + +“She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage +of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her +with the most devoted affection; but the poor girl died, and the Arabian +was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country, and +utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into +good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for which +they were bound; and, after her death, the woman of the house in which +they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the +cottage of her lover.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +“Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I +learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire +their virtues, and to deprecate the vices of mankind. + +“As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil; benevolence and +generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to +become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were +called forth and displayed. But, in giving an account of the progress of +my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the +beginning of the month of August of the same year. + +“One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood, where I +collected my own food, and brought home firing for my protectors, I +found on the ground a leathern portmanteau, containing several articles +of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize, and returned with +it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language the +elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of +_Paradise Lost_, a volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_, and the _Sorrows of +Werter_. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I +now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, +whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations. + +“I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced +in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me +to ecstacy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In +the _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and +affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed, and so many lights +thrown upon what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects, that I found +in it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle +and domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and +feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded +well with my experience among my protectors, and with the wants which +were for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more +divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained +no pretension, but it sunk deep. The disquisitions upon death and +suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to +enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions +of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely understanding +it. + +“As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and +condition. I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike +the beings concerning whom I read, and to whose conversation I was a +listener. I sympathized with, and partly understood them, but I was +unformed in mind; I was dependent on none, and related to none. ‘The +path of my departure was free;’ and there was none to lament my +annihilation. My person was hideous, and my stature gigantic: what did +this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my +destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to +solve them. + +“The volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_ which I possessed, contained the +histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had +a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I learned +from Werter’s imaginations despondency and gloom: but Plutarch taught me +high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own +reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I +read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused +knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and +boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns, and large +assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only +school in which I had studied human nature; but this book developed new +and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs +governing or massacring their species. I felt the greatest ardour for +virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as far as I understood +the signification of those terms, relative as they were, as I applied +them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these feelings, I was of +course led to admire peaceable law-givers, Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus, +in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The patriarchal lives of my +protectors caused these impressions to take a firm hold on my mind; +perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had been made by a young +soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should have been imbued with +different sensations. + +“But _Paradise Lost_ excited different and far deeper emotions. I read +it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as a +true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe, that the picture +of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of exciting. +I often referred the several situations, as their similarity struck me, +to my own. Like Adam, I was created apparently united by no link to any +other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in +every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect +creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his +Creator; he was allowed to converse with, and acquire knowledge from +beings of a superior nature: but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. +Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for +often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter +gall of envy rose within me. + +“Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon +after my arrival in the hovel, I discovered some papers in the pocket of +the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had +neglected them; but now that I was able to decypher the characters in +which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was +your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You minutely +described in these papers every step you took in the progress of your +work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic occurrences. +You, doubtless, recollect these papers. Here they are. Every thing is +related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole +detail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is +set in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person +is given, in language which painted your own horrors, and rendered mine +ineffaceable. I sickened as I read. ‘Hateful day when I received life!’ +I exclaimed in agony. ‘Cursed creator! Why did you form a monster so +hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God in pity made man +beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy +type of your’s, more horrid from its very resemblance. Satan had his +companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am +solitary and detested.’ + +“These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude; but +when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and +benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should become +acquainted with my admiration of their virtues, they would compassionate +me, and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn from their door +one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship? +I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way to fit myself for +an interview with them which would decide my fate. I postponed this +attempt for some months longer; for the importance attached to its +success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. Besides, I found +that my understanding improved so much with every day’s experience, that +I was unwilling to commence this undertaking until a few more months +should have added to my wisdom. + +“Several changes, in the mean time, took place in the cottage. The +presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants; and I also +found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha +spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in +their labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were +contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while mine +became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only discovered +to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I cherished hope, it +is true; but it vanished, when I beheld my person reflected in water, or +my shadow in the moon-shine, even as that frail image and that +inconstant shade. + +“I endeavoured to crush these fears, and to fortify myself for the trial +which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my +thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and +dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my +feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed +smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream: no Eve soothed my +sorrows, or shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s +supplication to his Creator; but where was mine? he had abandoned me, +and, in the bitterness of my heart, I cursed him. + +“Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay +and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it had +worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did not +heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my +conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief delights +were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay apparel of +summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention towards the +cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the absence of summer. +They loved, and sympathized with one another; and their joys, depending +on each other, were not interrupted by the casualties that took place +around them. The more I saw of them, the greater became my desire to +claim their protection and kindness; my heart yearned to be known and +loved by these amiable creatures: to see their sweet looks turned +towards me with affection, was the utmost limit of my ambition. I dared +not think that they would turn them from me with disdain and horror. The +poor that stopped at their door were never driven away. I asked, it is +true, for greater treasures than a little food or rest; I required +kindness and sympathy; but I did not believe myself utterly unworthy of +it. + +“The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken +place since I awoke into life. My attention, at this time, was solely +directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my +protectors. I revolved many projects; but that on which I finally fixed +was, to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. I had +sagacity enough to discover, that the unnatural hideousness of my person +was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly beheld me. My +voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I thought, therefore, +that if, in the absence of his children, I could gain the good-will and +mediation of the old De Lacy, I might, by his means, be tolerated by my +younger protectors. + +“One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground, +and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha, and +Felix, departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own +desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed, +he took up his guitar, and played several mournful, but sweet airs, more +sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his +countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but, as he continued, +thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the +instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection. + +“My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which +would decide my hopes, or realize my fears. The servants were gone to a +neighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage: it was an +excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my +limbs failed me, and I sunk to the ground. Again I rose; and, exerting +all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had +placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived me, +and, with renewed determination, I approached the door of their cottage. + +“I knocked. ‘Who is there?’ said the old man—‘Come in.’ + +“I entered; ‘Pardon this intrusion,’ said I, ‘I am a traveller in want +of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me, if you would allow me to +remain a few minutes before the fire.’ + +“‘Enter,’ said De Lacy; ‘and I will try in what manner I can relieve +your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and, as I am +blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.’ + +“‘Do not trouble yourself, my kind host, I have food; it is warmth and +rest only that I need.’ + +“I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was precious +to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence the +interview; when the old man addressed me— + +“‘By your language, stranger, I suppose you are my countryman;—are you +French?’ + +“‘No; but I was educated by a French family, and understand that +language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends, +whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.’ + +“‘Are these Germans?’ + +“‘No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an +unfortunate and deserted creature; I look around, and I have no relation +or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen +me, and know little of me. I am full of fears; for if I fail there, I am +an outcast in the world for ever.’ + +“‘Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate; but the +hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full +of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if +these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.’ + +“‘They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world; +but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good +dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless, and, in some degree, +beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they +ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable +monster.’ + +“‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot +you undeceive them?’ + +“‘I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I +feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I +have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily +kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and +it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.’ + +“‘Where do these friends reside?’ + +“‘Near this spot.’ + +“The old man paused, and then continued, ‘If you will unreservedly +confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in +undeceiving them. I am blind, and cannot judge of your countenance, but +there is something in your words which persuades me that you are +sincere. I am poor, and an exile; but it will afford me true pleasure to +be in any way serviceable to a human creature.’ + +“‘Excellent man! I thank you, and accept your generous offer. You raise +me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid, I +shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your +fellow-creatures.’ + +“‘Heaven forbid! even if you were really criminal; for that can only +drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am +unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent: +judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.’ + +“‘How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? from your lips first +have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall be for +ever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success with +those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.’ + +“‘May I know the names and residence of those friends?’ + +“I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to rob +me of, or bestow happiness on me for ever. I struggled vainly for +firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my +remaining strength; I sank on the chair, and sobbed aloud. At that +moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment to +lose; but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, ‘Now is the +time!—save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I +seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!’ + +“‘Great God!’ exclaimed the old man, ‘who are you?’ + +“At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and +Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on +beholding me? Agatha fainted; and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, +rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural +force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung: in a transport of +fury, he dashed me to the ground, and struck me violently with a stick. +I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends the antelope. +But my heart sunk within me as with bitter sickness, and I refrained. I +saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain and +anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped +unperceived to my hovel.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +“Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not +extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? I +know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my feelings were +those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have destroyed the +cottage and its inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks +and misery. + +“When night came, I quitted my retreat, and wandered in the wood; and +now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my +anguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken the +toils; destroying the objects that obstructed me, and ranging through +the wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! what a miserable night I +passed! the cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees waved their +branches above me: now and then the sweet voice of a bird burst forth +amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest or in +enjoyment: I, like the arch fiend, bore a hell within me; and, finding +myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread havoc and +destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed the ruin. + +“But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became +fatigued with excess of bodily exertion, and sank on the damp grass in +the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men +that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness +towards my enemies? No: from that moment I declared everlasting war +against the species, and, more than all, against him who had formed me, +and sent me forth to this insupportable misery. + +“The sun rose; I heard the voices of men, and knew that it was +impossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hid +myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours +to reflection on my situation. + +“The pleasant sunshine, and the pure air of day, restored me to some +degree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the +cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my +conclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that my +conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a fool in +having exposed my person to the horror of his children. I ought to have +familiarized the old De Lacy to me, and by degrees have discovered +myself to the rest of his family, when they should have been prepared +for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be irretrievable; +and, after much consideration, I resolved to return to the cottage, seek +the old man, and by my representations win him to my party. + +“These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound +sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by +peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was for ever +acting before my eyes; the females were flying, and the enraged Felix +tearing me from his father’s feet. I awoke exhausted; and, finding that +it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in +search of food. + +“When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the well-known +path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. I crept into +my hovel, and remained in silent expectation of the accustomed hour when +the family arose. That hour past, the sun mounted high in the heavens, +but the cottagers did not appear. I trembled violently, apprehending +some dreadful misfortune. The inside of the cottage was dark, and I +heard no motion; I cannot describe the agony of this suspence. + +“Presently two countrymen passed by; but, pausing near the cottage, they +entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not +understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country, +which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix +approached with another man: I was surprised, as I knew that he had not +quitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover, from +his discourse, the meaning of these unusual appearances. + +“‘Do you consider,’ said his companion to him, ‘that you will be obliged +to pay three months’ rent, and to lose the produce of your garden? I do +not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg therefore that you will +take some days to consider of your determination.’ + +“‘It is utterly useless,’ replied Felix, ‘we can never again inhabit +your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owing to +the dreadful circumstance that I have related. My wife and my sister +will never recover their horror. I entreat you not to reason with me any +more. Take possession of your tenement, and let me fly from this place.’ + +“Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion entered +the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then +departed. I never saw any of the family of De Lacy more. + +“I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of +utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed, and had broken the +only link that held me to the world. For the first time the feelings of +revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to controul +them; but, allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my +mind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends, of the mild +voice of De Lacy, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the exquisite beauty of +the Arabian, these thoughts vanished, and a gush of tears somewhat +soothed me. But again, when I reflected that they had spurned and +deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger; and, unable to injure any +thing human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As night +advanced, I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage; and, +after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, I +waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my +operations. + +“As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods, and quickly +dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens: the blast tore +along like a mighty avalanche, and produced a kind of insanity in my +spirits, that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the +dry branch of a tree, and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, +my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon +nearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my +brand; it sunk, and, with a loud scream, I fired the straw, and heath, +and bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the +cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it, and +licked it with their forked and destroying tongues. + +“As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of +the habitation, I quitted the scene, and sought for refuge in the woods. + +“And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I +resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated +and despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the +thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you were +my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness than +to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had bestowed +upon Safie geography had not been omitted: I had learned from these the +relative situations of the different countries of the earth. You had +mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town; and towards this place +I resolved to proceed. + +“But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a +south-westerly direction to reach my destination; but the sun was my +only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass +through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I +did not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although +towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, heartless +creator! you had endowed me with perceptions and passions, and then cast +me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only +had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I determined to seek +that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from any other being that +wore the human form. + +“My travels were long, and the sufferings I endured intense. It was late +in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. I +travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a human +being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; rain and +snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface of the +earth was hard, and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, earth! +how often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being! The mildness +of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall and +bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more deeply +did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow fell, and +the waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidents now and then +directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I often wandered +wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite: no +incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its +food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived on the confines of +Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth, and the earth again +began to look green, confirmed in an especial manner the bitterness and +horror of my feelings. + +“I generally rested during the day, and travelled only when I was +secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding +that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey +after the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring, +cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of +the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long +appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these +sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them; and, forgetting +my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears again bedewed +my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with thankfulness towards the +blessed sun which bestowed such joy upon me. + +“I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its +boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many +of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. +Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the +sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a +cypress. I was scarcely hid, when a young girl came running towards the +spot where I was concealed, laughing as if she ran from some one in +sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the +river, when suddenly her foot slipt, and she fell into the rapid stream. +I rushed from my hiding-place, and, with extreme labour from the force +of the current, saved her, and dragged her to shore. She was senseless; +and I endeavoured, by every means in my power, to restore animation, +when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was +probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he +darted towards me, and, tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards +the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why; +but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at +my body, and fired. I sunk to the ground, and my injurer, with increased +swiftness, escaped into the wood. + +“This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being +from destruction, and, as a recompense, I now writhed under the +miserable pain of a wound, which shattered the flesh and bone. The +feelings of kindness and gentleness, which I had entertained but a few +moments before, gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. +Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. +But the agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted. + +“For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to +cure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder, +and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any +rate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented also +by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their +infliction. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge, +such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had +endured. + +“After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The +labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or +gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery, which insulted my +desolate state, and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for +the enjoyment of pleasure. + +“But my toils now drew near a close; and, two months from this time, I +reached the environs of Geneva. + +“It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among +the fields that surround it, to meditate in what manner I should apply +to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger, and far too unhappy to +enjoy the gentle breezes of evening, or the prospect of the sun setting +behind the stupendous mountains of Jura. + +“At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection, +which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came +running into the recess I had chosen with all the sportiveness of +infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me, that this +little creature was unprejudiced, and had lived too short a time to have +imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him, and +educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in +this peopled earth. + +“Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed, and drew him +towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his +eyes, and uttered a shrill scream: I drew his hand forcibly from his +face, and said, ‘Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to +hurt you; listen to me.’ + +“He struggled violently; ‘Let me go,’ he cried; ‘monster! ugly wretch! +you wish to eat me, and tear me to pieces—You are an ogre—Let me go, +or I will tell my papa.’ + +“‘Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.’ + +“‘Hideous monster! let me go; My papa is a Syndic—he is M. +Frankenstein—he would punish you. You dare not keep me.’ + +“‘Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have +sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.’ + +“The child still struggled, and loaded me with epithets which carried +despair to my heart: I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a +moment he lay dead at my feet. + +“I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish +triumph: clapping my hands, I exclaimed, ‘I, too, can create desolation; +my enemy is not impregnable; this death will carry despair to him, and a +thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.’ + +“As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his +breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite of +my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I gazed +with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her lovely +lips; but presently my rage returned: I remembered that I was for ever +deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could bestow; and +that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in regarding me, have +changed that air of divine benignity to one expressive of disgust and +affright. + +“Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only +wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in +exclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind, and perish in the +attempt to destroy them. + +“While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had +committed the murder, and was seeking a more secluded hiding-place, when +I perceived a woman passing near me. She was young, not indeed so +beautiful as her whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect, and +blooming in the loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one +of those whose smiles are bestowed on all but me; she shall not escape: +thanks to the lessons of Felix, and the sanguinary laws of man, I have +learned how to work mischief. I approached her unperceived, and placed +the portrait securely in one of the folds of her dress. + +“For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place; +sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and +its miseries for ever. At length I wandered towards these mountains, and +have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning +passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have +promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone, and miserable; man +will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself +would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species, +and have the same defects. This being you must create.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The being finished speaking, and fixed his looks upon me in expectation +of a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to arrange my +ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his proposition. He +continued— + +“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the +interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone +can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.” + +The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had +died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and, +as he said this, I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within +me. + +“I do refuse it,” I replied; “and no torture shall ever extort a consent +from me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but you shall +never make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another like yourself, +whose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! I have answered +you; you may torture me, but I will never consent.” + +“You are in the wrong,” replied the fiend; “and, instead of threatening, +I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable; +am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear +me to pieces, and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity +man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder, if you could +precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts, and destroy my frame, the +work of your own hands. Shall I respect man, when he contemns me? Let +him live with me in the interchange of kindness, and, instead of injury, +I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude at his +acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable +barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject +slavery. I will revenge my injuries: if I cannot inspire love, I will +cause fear; and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, +do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care: I will work at your +destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse +the hour of your birth.” + +A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled into +contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently he +calmed himself, and proceeded— + +“I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me; for you do not +reflect that you are the cause of its excess. If any being felt emotions +of benevolence towards me, I should return them an hundred and an +hundred fold; for that one creature’s sake, I would make peace with the +whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be +realized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a +creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself: the gratification is +small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It is +true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that +account we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not be +happy, but they will be harmless, and free from the misery I now feel. +Oh! my creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards you for one +benefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some existing thing; +do not deny me my request!” + +I was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences of +my consent; but I felt that there was some justice in his argument. His +tale, and the feelings he now expressed, proved him to be a creature of +fine sensations; and did I not, as his maker, owe him all the portion of +happiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change of +feeling, and continued— + +“If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us +again: I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not that +of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid, to glut my appetite; +acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion will +be of the same nature as myself, and will be content with the same fare. +We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on +man, and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peaceful +and human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the +wantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me, I +now see compassion in your eyes: let me seize the favourable moment, and +persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire.” + +“You propose,” replied I, “to fly from the habitations of man, to dwell +in those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your only +companions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man, +persevere in this exile? You will return, and again seek their kindness, +and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions will be +renewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in the task of +destruction. This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I cannot +consent.” + +“How inconstant are your feelings! but a moment ago you were moved by my +representations, and why do you again harden yourself to my complaints? +I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you that made me, +that, with the companion you bestow, I will quit the neighbourhood of +man, and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of places. My evil +passions will have fled, for I shall meet with sympathy; my life will +flow quietly away, and, in my dying moments, I shall not curse my +maker.” + +His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him, and +sometimes felt a wish to console him; but when I looked upon him, when I +saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened, and my +feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stifle +these sensations; I thought, that as I could not sympathize with him, I +had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which +was yet in my power to bestow. + +“You swear,” I said, “to be harmless; but have you not already shewn a +degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you? May not +even this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording a +wider scope for your revenge?” + +“How is this? I thought I had moved your compassion, and yet you still +refuse to bestow on me the only benefit that can soften my heart, and +render me harmless. If I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice +must be my portion; the love of another will destroy the cause of my +crimes, and I shall become a thing, of whose existence every one will be +ignorant. My vices are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor; +and my virtues will necessarily arise when I live in communion with an +equal. I shall feel the affections of a sensitive being, and become +linked to the chain of existence and events, from which I am now +excluded.” + +I paused some time to reflect on all he had related, and the various +arguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtues +which he had displayed on the opening of his existence, and the +subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which +his protectors had manifested towards him. His power and threats were +not omitted in my calculations: a creature who could exist in the ice +caves of the glaciers, and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of +inaccessible precipices, was a being possessing faculties it would be +vain to cope with. After a long pause of reflection, I concluded, that +the justice due both to him and my fellow-creatures demanded of me that +I should comply with his request. Turning to him, therefore, I said— + +“I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe for ever, +and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall +deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile.” + +“I swear,” he cried, “by the sun, and by the blue sky of heaven, that if +you grant my prayer, while they exist you shall never behold me again. +Depart to your home, and commence your labours: I shall watch their +progress with unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are +ready I shall appear.” + +Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in +my sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than +the flight of an eagle, and quickly lost him among the undulations of +the sea of ice. + +His tale had occupied the whole day; and the sun was upon the verge of +the horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descent +towards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my +heart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among the +little paths of the mountains, and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced, +perplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences of +the day had produced. Night was far advanced, when I came to the +half-way resting-place, and seated myself beside the fountain. The stars +shone at intervals, as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines +rose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the +ground: it was a scene of wonderful solemnity, and stirred strange +thoughts within me. I wept bitterly; and, clasping my hands in agony, I +exclaimed, “Oh! stars, and clouds, and winds, ye are all about to mock +me: if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as +nought; but if not, depart, depart and leave me in darkness.” + +These were wild and miserable thoughts; but I cannot describe to you how +the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me, and how I listened +to every blast of wind, as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way to +consume me. + +Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; but my +presence, so haggard and strange, hardly calmed the fears of my family, +who had waited the whole night in anxious expectation of my return. + +The following day we returned to Geneva. The intention of my father in +coming had been to divert my mind, and to restore me to my lost +tranquillity; but the medicine had been fatal. And, unable to account +for the excess of misery I appeared to suffer, he hastened to return +home, hoping the quiet and monotony of a domestic life would by degrees +alleviate my sufferings from whatsoever cause they might spring. + +For myself, I was passive in all their arrangements; and the gentle +affection of my beloved Elizabeth was inadequate to draw me from the +depth of my despair. The promise I had made to the dæmon weighed upon my +mind, like Dante’s iron cowl on the heads of the hellish hypocrites. All +pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that +thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that +sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually +about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant +torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans? + +By degrees, however, these feelings became calmed. I entered again into +the every-day scene of life, if not with interest, at least with some +degree of tranquillity. + + +END OF VOL. II. + + + + +FRANKENSTEIN; + +OR, + +THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + VOL. III. + + London: + + _PRINTED FOR_ + LACKINGTON, HUGHES, HARDING, MAVOR, & JONES, + FINSBURY SQUARE. + + 1818. + + * * * * * + + Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay + To mould me man? Did I solicit thee + From darkness to promote me?—— + + Paradise Lost. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and +I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the +vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my +repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not +compose a female without again devoting several months to profound study +and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries having been +made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was material to +my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my father’s consent to +visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every pretence of delay, +and could not resolve to interrupt my returning tranquillity. My health, +which had hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when +unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My +father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards +the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, which +every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring blackness +overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in the +most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake alone in a little +boat, watching the clouds, and listening to the rippling of the waves, +silent and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun seldom failed to +restore me to some degree of composure; and, on my return, I met the +salutations of my friends with a readier smile and a more cheerful +heart. + +It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, calling +me aside, thus addressed me:— + +“I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former +pleasures, and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still +unhappy, and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in +conjecture as to the cause of this; but yesterday an idea struck me, and +if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a point +would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all.” + +I trembled violently at this exordium, and my father continued— + +“I confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage +with your cousin as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my +declining years. You were attached to each other from your earliest +infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions and tastes, +entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the experience of man, +that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my plan may have +entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your sister, without +any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may have met with +another whom you may love; and, considering yourself as bound in honour +to your cousin, this struggle may occasion the poignant misery which you +appear to feel.” + +“My dear father, re-assure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and +sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my +warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are +entirely bound up in the expectation of our union.” + +“The expression of your sentiments on this subject, my dear Victor, +gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you +feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast +a gloom over us. But it is this gloom, which appears to have taken so +strong a hold of your mind, that I wish to dissipate. Tell me, +therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the +marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us from +that every-day tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You are +younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent +fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future +plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose, +however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you, or that a delay on +your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words +with candour, and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and +sincerity.” + +I listened to my father in silence, and remained for some time incapable +of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of +thoughts, and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! to me the +idea of an immediate union with my cousin was one of horror and dismay. +I was bound by a solemn promise, which I had not yet fulfilled, and +dared not break; or, if I did, what manifold miseries might not impend +over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival with this +deadly weight yet hanging round my neck, and bowing me to the ground. I +must perform my engagement, and let the monster depart with his mate, +before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of an union from which I +expected peace. + +I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to +England, or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers +of that country, whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable +use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining the +desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory: besides, any +variation was agreeable to me, and I was delighted with the idea of +spending a year or two in change of scene and variety of occupation, in +absence from my family; during which period some event might happen +which would restore me to them in peace and happiness: my promise might +be fulfilled, and the monster have departed; or some accident might +occur to destroy him, and put an end to my slavery for ever. + +These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to +visit England; but, concealing the true reasons of this request, I +clothed my desires under the guise of wishing to travel and see the +world before I sat down for life within the walls of my native town. + +I urged my entreaty with earnestness, and my father was easily induced +to comply; for a more indulgent and less dictatorial parent did not +exist upon earth. Our plan was soon arranged. I should travel to +Strasburgh, where Clerval would join me. Some short time would be spent +in the towns of Holland, and our principal stay would be in England. We +should return by France; and it was agreed that the tour should occupy +the space of two years. + +My father pleased himself with the reflection, that my union with +Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return to Geneva. “These +two years,” said he, “will pass swiftly, and it will be the last delay +that will oppose itself to your happiness. And, indeed, I earnestly +desire that period to arrive, when we shall all be united, and neither +hopes or fears arise to disturb our domestic calm.” + +“I am content,” I replied, “with your arrangement. By that time we shall +both have become wiser, and I hope happier, than we at present are.” I +sighed; but my father kindly forbore to question me further concerning +the cause of my dejection. He hoped that new scenes, and the amusement +of travelling, would restore my tranquillity. + +I now made arrangements for my journey; but one feeling haunted me, +which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should +leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy, and +unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my +departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go; and +would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in +itself, but soothing, inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends. +I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this +might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the slave +of my creature, I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of the +moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend +would follow me, and exempt my family from the danger of his +machinations. + +It was in the latter end of August that I departed, to pass two years of +exile. Elizabeth approved of the reasons of my departure, and only +regretted that she had not the same opportunities of enlarging her +experience, and cultivating her understanding. She wept, however, as she +bade me farewell, and entreated me to return happy and tranquil. “We +all,” said she, “depend upon you; and if you are miserable, what must be +our feelings?” + +I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly +knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. I +remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on +it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with +me: for I resolved to fulfil my promise while abroad, and return, if +possible, a free man. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through +many beautiful and majestic scenes; but my eyes were fixed and +unobserving. I could only think of the bourne of my travels, and the +work which was to occupy me whilst they endured. + +After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed +many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for +Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was +alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting +sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He +pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the +appearances of the sky. “This is what it is to live;” he cried, “now I +enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you +desponding and sorrowful?” In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts, +and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise +reflected in the Rhine.—And you, my friend, would be far more amused +with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of +feeling and delight, than to listen to my reflections. I, a miserable +wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment. + +We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to +Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage, +we passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We +staid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from +Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence +becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds +between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many +ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black +woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a +singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills, +ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine +rushing beneath; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing +vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and +populous towns, occupy the scene. + +We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the +labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and +my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased. +I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue +sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a +stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of +Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairy-land, and enjoyed +a happiness seldom tasted by man. “I have seen,” he said, “the most +beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne +and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the +water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy +and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that +relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated +by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an +idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves +dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his +mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche, and where their dying voices +are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have +seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country, +Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of +Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the +banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at +that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island, +almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that +group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village +half-hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that +inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than +those who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the +mountains of our own country.” + +Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words, +and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He +was a being formed in the “very poetry of nature.” His wild and +enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart. +His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of +that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to +look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not +sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature, +which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour: + + —— ——“The sounding cataract + Haunted _him_ like a passion: the tall rock, + The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, + Their colours and their forms, were then to him + An appetite; a feeling, and a love, + That had no need of a remoter charm, + By thought supplied, or any interest + Unborrowed from the eye.” + +And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for +ever? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and +magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life +of its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my +memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming +with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your +unhappy friend. + +Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight +tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, +overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will +proceed with my tale. + +Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to +post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream +of the river was too gentle to aid us. + +Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but +we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to +England. It was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that +I first saw the white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames +presented a new scene; they were flat, but fertile, and almost every +town was marked by the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort, +and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich, +places which I had heard of even in my country. + +At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul’s towering +above all, and the Tower famed in English history. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several +months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the +intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this time; +but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally occupied with +the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of +my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction +that I had brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural +philosophers. + +If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness, +it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come +over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of the +information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was +so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I could +fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of Henry +soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory peace. But +busy uninteresting joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw +an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow-men; this +barrier was sealed with the blood of William and Justine; and to reflect +on the events connected with those names filled my soul with anguish. + +But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive, +and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of +manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of +instruction and amusement. He was for ever busy; and the only check to +his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mien. I tried to conceal +this as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures +natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by +any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him, +alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also began +to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to +me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the +head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme anguish, and +every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver, and +my heart to palpitate. + +After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person +in Scotland, who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned +the beauties of his native country, and asked us if those were not +sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north +as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this +invitation; and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again +mountains and streams, and all the wondrous works with which Nature +adorns her chosen dwelling-places. + +We had arrived in England at the beginning of October, and it was now +February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the +north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not +intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, +Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the +completion of this tour about the end of July. I packed my chemical +instruments, and the materials I had collected, resolving to finish my +labours in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland. + +We quitted London on the 27th of March, and remained a few days at +Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us +mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of +stately deer, were all novelties to us. + +From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city, our minds +were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted +there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I. +had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, after +the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of +parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king, and his +companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Gower, his queen, and +son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city, which they +might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a +dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these +feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the +city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The +colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost +magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows +of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters, +which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and domes, +embosomed among aged trees. + +I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the +memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for +peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my +mind; and if I was ever overcome by _ennui_, the sight of what is +beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in +the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate +elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered +my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall +soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to +others, and abhorrent to myself. + +We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs, +and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most +animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery were +often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. We +visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden, and the field on which that +patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated from its debasing and +miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas of liberty and +self-sacrifice, of which these sights were the monuments and the +remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains, and look +around me with a free and lofty spirit; but the iron had eaten into my +flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self. + +We left Oxford with regret, and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next +place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village +resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but every +thing is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of distant +white Alps, which always attend on the piny mountains of my native +country. We visited the wondrous cave, and the little cabinets of +natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same manner +as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name made me +tremble, when pronounced by Henry; and I hastened to quit Matlock, with +which that terrible scene was thus associated. + +From Derby still journeying northward, we passed two months in +Cumberland and Westmoreland. I could now almost fancy myself among the +Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the +northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the rocky +streams, were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we made some +acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into happiness. The +delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than mine; his mind +expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found in his own nature +greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined himself to +have possessed while he associated with his inferiors. “I could pass my +life here,” said he to me; “and among these mountains I should scarcely +regret Switzerland and the Rhine.” + +But he found that a traveller’s life is one that includes much pain +amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and +when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit +that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again +engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties. + +We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and +Westmoreland, and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants, +when the period of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, +and we left them to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had +now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the +dæmon’s disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland, and wreak his +vengeance on my relatives. This idea pursued me, and tormented me at +every moment from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and +peace. I waited for my letters with feverish impatience: if they were +delayed, I was miserable, and overcome by a thousand fears; and when +they arrived, and I saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I +hardly dared to read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the +fiend followed me, and might expedite my remissness by murdering my +companion. When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for +a moment, but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the +fancied rage of his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great +crime, the consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had +indeed drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of +crime. + +I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might +have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so +well as Oxford; for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing +to him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its +romantic castle, and its environs, the most delightful in the world, +Arthur’s Seat, St. Bernard’s Well, and the Pentland Hills, compensated +him for the change, and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But +I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey. + +We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrews, and +along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. But +I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers, or enter into their +feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and +accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland +alone. “Do you,” said I, “enjoy yourself, and let this be our +rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with my +motions, I entreat you: leave me to peace and solitude for a short time; +and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more +congenial to your own temper.” + +Henry wished to dissuade me; but, seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to +remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. “I had rather be with you,” +he said, “in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch people, whom +I do not know: hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again +feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.” + +Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of +Scotland, and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the +monster followed me, and would discover himself to me when I should have +finished, that he might receive his companion. + +With this resolution I traversed the northern highlands, and fixed on +one of the remotest of the Orkneys as the scene labours. It was a place +fitted for such a work, being hardly more than a rock, whose high sides +were continually beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely +affording pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its +inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy +limbs gave tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when +they indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured +from the main land, which was about five miles distant. + +On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of +these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two +rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable +penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the +door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some +furniture, and took possession; an incident which would, doubtless, have +occasioned some surprise, had not all the senses of the cottagers been +benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at and +unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes which I +gave; so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations of men. + +In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening, +when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea, to +listen to the waves as they roared, and dashed at my feet. It was a +monotonous, yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was +far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are +covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the +plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky; and, when troubled +by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant, when +compared to the roarings of the giant ocean. + +In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived; but, +as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and +irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my +laboratory for several days; and at other times I toiled day and night +in order to complete my work. It was indeed a filthy process in which I +was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of enthusiastic frenzy +had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my mind was intently +fixed on the sequel of my labour, and my eyes were shut to the horror of +my proceedings. But now I went to it in cold blood, and my heart often +sickened at the work of my hands. + +Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in a +solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the +actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I grew +restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. +Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them +lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold. +I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow-creatures, lest when +alone he should come to claim his companion. + +In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably +advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager +hope, which I dared not trust myself to question, but which was +intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil, that made my heart sicken +in my bosom. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was +just rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, +and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should +leave my labour for the night, or hasten its conclusion by an +unremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to +me, which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three +years before I was engaged in the same manner, and had created a fiend +whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart, and filled it for +ever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another being, +of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten +thousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its own +sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood +of man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in +all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might +refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might +even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own +deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for it when it +came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with +disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and +he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being +deserted by one of his own species. + +Even if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new +world, yet one of the first results of those sympathies for which the +dæmon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be +propagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the +species of man a condition precarious and full of terror. Had I a right, +for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? +I had before been moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I +had been struck senseless by his fiendish threats: but now, for the +first time, the wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to +think that future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness +had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price perhaps of the +existence of the whole human race. + +I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw, +by the light of the moon, the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin +wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task +which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he +had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide +and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress, and claim the +fulfilment of my promise. + +As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of +malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my +promise of creating another like to him, and, trembling with passion, +tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me +destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for +happiness, and, with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew. + +I left the room, and, locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own +heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I +sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate the +gloom, and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most terrible +reveries. + +Several hours past, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea; it +was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature reposed +under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone specked the +water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices, as +the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence, although I was +hardly conscious of its extreme profundity until my ear was suddenly +arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a person landed +close to my house. + +In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one +endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a +presentiment of who it was, and wished to rouse one of the peasants who +dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the +sensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you +in vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to the +spot. + +Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door +opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he +approached me, and said, in a smothered voice— + +“You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you +intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and +misery: I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the +Rhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I +have dwelt many months in the heaths of England, and among the deserts +of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; +do you dare destroy my hopes?” + +“Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like +yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.” + +“Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself +unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe +yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day +will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your +master;—obey!” + +“The hour of my weakness is past, and the period of your power is +arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but +they confirm me in a resolution of not creating you a companion in vice. +Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a dæmon, whose delight +is in death and wretchedness. Begone! I am firm, and your words will +only exasperate my rage.” + +The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in +the impotence of anger. “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a wife for his +bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of +affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you may +hate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the +bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are +you to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You +can blast my other passions; but revenge remains—revenge, henceforth +dearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and +tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I +am fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a +snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the +injuries you inflict.” + +“Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I +have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath +words. Leave me; I am inexorable.” + +“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your +wedding-night.” + +I started forward, and exclaimed, “Villain! before you sign my +death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.” + +I would have seized him; but he eluded me, and quitted the house with +precipitation: in a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across +the waters with an arrowy swiftness, and was soon lost amidst the waves. + +All was again silent; but his words rung in my ears. I burned with rage +to pursue the murderer of my peace, and precipitate him into the ocean. +I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination +conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not +followed him, and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered +him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the main land. I +shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his +insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—“_I will be +with you on your wedding-night._” That then was the period fixed for the +fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die, and at once satisfy +and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet +when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth,—of her tears and endless +sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from +her,—tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my +eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter +struggle. + +The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings +became calmer, if it may be called calmness, when the violence of rage +sinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene of +the last night’s contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which I +almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my +fellow-creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole +across me. I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, +wearily it is true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If +I returned, it was to be sacrificed, or to see those whom I most loved +die under the grasp of a dæmon whom I had myself created. + +I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it +loved, and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the sun +rose higher, I lay down on the grass, and was overpowered by a deep +sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves were +agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep into +which I now sunk refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as if I +belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to reflect +upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the words of the +fiend rung in my ears like a death-knell, they appeared like a dream, +yet distinct and oppressive as a reality. + +The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my +appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a +fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet; +it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval, entreating me to +join him. He said that nearly a year had elapsed since we had quitted +Switzerland, and France was yet unvisited. He entreated me, therefore, +to leave my solitary isle, and meet him at Perth, in a week from that +time, when we might arrange the plan of our future proceedings. This +letter in a degree recalled me to life, and I determined to quit my +island at the expiration of two days. + +Yet, before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I +shuddered to reflect: I must pack my chemical instruments; and for that +purpose I must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious +work, and I must handle those utensils, the sight of which was sickening +to me. The next morning, at day-break, I summoned sufficient courage, +and unlocked the door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished +creature, whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost +felt as if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to +collect myself, and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I +conveyed the instruments out of the room; but I reflected that I ought +not to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion of +the peasants, and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great +quantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into +the sea that very night; and in the mean time I sat upon the beach, +employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus. + +Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place +in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the dæmon. I had +before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair, as a thing that, with +whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film +had been taken from before my eyes, and that I, for the first time, saw +clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur +to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not +reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in +my own mind, that to create another like the fiend I had first made +would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I +banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different +conclusion. + +Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting +my basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the +shore. The scene was perfectly solitary: a few boats were returning +towards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about the +commission of a dreadful crime, and avoided with shuddering anxiety any +encounter with my fellow-creatures. At one time the moon, which had +before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took +advantage of the moment of darkness, and cast my basket into the sea; I +listened to the gurgling sound as it sunk, and then sailed away from the +spot. The sky became clouded; but the air was pure, although chilled by +the north-east breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed me, and +filled me with such agreeable sensations, that I resolved to prolong my +stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct position, stretched +myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the moon, every thing was +obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat, as its keel cut through +the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short time I slept soundly. + +I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke I +found that the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high, +and the waves continually threatened the safety of my little skiff. I +found that the wind was north-east, and must have driven me far from the +coast from which I had embarked. I endeavoured to change my course, but +quickly found that if I again made the attempt the boat would be +instantly filled with water. Thus situated, my only resource was to +drive before the wind. I confess that I felt a few sensations of terror. +I had no compass with me, and was so little acquainted with the +geography of this part of the world that the sun was of little benefit +to me. I might be driven into the wide Atlantic, and feel all the +tortures of starvation, or be swallowed up in the immeasurable waters +that roared and buffeted around me. I had already been out many hours, +and felt the torment of a burning thirst, a prelude to my other +sufferings. I looked on the heavens, which were covered by clouds that +flew before the wind only to be replaced by others: I looked upon the +sea, it was to be my grave. “Fiend,” I exclaimed, “your task is already +fulfilled!” I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval; and +sunk into a reverie, so despairing and frightful, that even now, when +the scene is on the point of closing before me for ever, I shudder to +reflect on it. + +Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the +horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze, and the sea became +free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick, +and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high +land towards the south. + +Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue, and the dreadful suspense I endured +for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of +warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes. + +How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we +have of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail +with a part of my dress, and eagerly steered my course towards the land. +It had a wild and rocky appearance; but as I approached nearer, I easily +perceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore, and +found myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of civilized +man. I eagerly traced the windings of the land, and hailed a steeple +which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. As I was +in a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly towards the +town as a place where I could most easily procure nourishment. +Fortunately I had money with me. As I turned the promontory, I perceived +a small neat town and a good harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding +with joy at my unexpected escape. + +As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several +people crowded towards the spot. They seemed very much surprised at my +appearance; but, instead of offering me any assistance, whispered +together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me +a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they +spoke English; and I therefore addressed them in that language: “My good +friends,” said I, “will you be so kind as to tell me the name of this +town, and inform me where I am?” + +“You will know that soon enough,” replied a man with a gruff voice. “May +be you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste; but +you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you.” + +I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a +stranger; and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and +angry countenances of his companions. “Why do you answer me so roughly?” +I replied: “surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to receive +strangers so inhospitably.” + +“I do not know,” said the man, “what the custom of the English may be; +but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains.” + +While this strange dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly +increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which +annoyed, and in some degree alarmed me. I inquired the way to the inn; +but no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose +from the crowd as they followed and surrounded me; when an ill-looking +man approaching, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Come, Sir, you +must follow me to Mr. Kirwin’s, to give an account of yourself.” + +“Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not this a +free country?” + +“Aye, Sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate; and +you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was found +murdered here last night.” + +This answer startled me; but I presently recovered myself. I was +innocent; that could easily be proved: accordingly I followed my +conductor in silence, and was led to one of the best houses in the town. +I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger; but, being surrounded by a +crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical +debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt. Little +did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to overwhelm +me, and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy or death. + +I must pause here; for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory +of the frightful events which I am about to relate, in proper detail, to +my recollection. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old +benevolent man, with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however, +with some degree of severity; and then, turning towards my conductors, +he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion. + +About half a dozen men came forward; and one being selected by the +magistrate, he deposed, that he had been out fishing the night before +with his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten o’clock, +they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they accordingly put +in for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had not yet risen; +they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been accustomed, at a +creek about two miles below. He walked on first, carrying a part of the +fishing tackle, and his companions followed him at some distance. As he +was proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against something, +and fell all his length on the ground. His companions came up to assist +him; and, by the light of their lantern, they found that he had fallen +on the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Their first +supposition was, that it was the corpse of some person who had been +drowned, and was thrown on shore by the waves; but, upon examination, +they found that the clothes were not wet, and even that the body was not +then cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman near +the spot, and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. He +appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of age. +He had apparently been strangled; for there was no sign of any violence, +except the black mark of fingers on his neck. + +The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me; but +when the mark of the fingers was mentioned, I remembered the murder of +my brother, and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a +mist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for support. +The magistrate observed me with a keen eye, and of course drew an +unfavourable augury from my manner. + +The son confirmed his father’s account: but when Daniel Nugent was +called, he swore positively that, just before the fall of his companion, +he saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the +shore; and, as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was +the same boat in which I had just landed. + +A woman deposed, that she lived near the beach, and was standing at the +door of her cottage, waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an +hour before she heard of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat, +with only one man in it, push off from that part of the shore where the +corpse was afterwards found. + +Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the +body into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed, and rubbed +it; and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was quite +gone. + +Several other men were examined concerning my landing; and they agreed, +that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it +was very probable that I had beaten about for many hours, and had been +obliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed. +Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body from +another place, and it was likely, that as I did not appear to know the +shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance of the +town of —— from the place where I had deposited the corpse. + +Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken +into the room where the body lay for interment that it might be observed +what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea was +probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when the +mode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly conducted, by +the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I could not help +being struck by the strange coincidences that had taken place during +this eventful night; but, knowing that I had been conversing with +several persons in the island I had inhabited about the time that the +body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the consequences of +the affair. + +I entered the room where the corpse lay, and was led up to the coffin. +How can I describe my sensations on beholding it? I feel yet parched +with horror, nor can I reflect on that terrible moment without +shuddering and agony, that faintly reminds me of the anguish of the +recognition. The trial, the presence of the magistrate and witnesses, +passed like a dream from my memory, when I saw the lifeless form of +Henry Clerval stretched before me. I gasped for breath; and, throwing +myself on the body, I exclaimed, “Have my murderous machinations +deprived you also, my dearest Henry, of life? Two I have already +destroyed; other victims await their destiny: but you, Clerval, my +friend, my benefactor”—— + +The human frame could no longer support the agonizing suffering that I +endured, and I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions. + +A fever succeeded to this. I lay for two months on the point of death: +my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the +murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated +my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was +tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already +grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. Fortunately, +as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood me; but my +gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the other +witnesses. + +Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I +not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming +children, the only hopes of their doating parents: how many brides and +youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and +the next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials +was I made, that I could thus resist so many shocks, which, like the +turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture. + +But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking +from a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by +gaolers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon. +It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had +forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some +great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around, +and saw the barred windows, and the squalidness of the room in which I +was, all flashed across my memory, and I groaned bitterly. + +This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside me. +She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her +countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize +that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of +persons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her +tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, and +the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings: + +“Are you better now, Sir?” said she. + +I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, “I believe I am; +but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am +still alive to feel this misery and horror.” + +“For that matter,” replied the old woman, “if you mean about the +gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you +were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you; but you will be hung +when the next sessions come on. However, that’s none of my business, I +am sent to nurse you, and get you well; I do my duty with a safe +conscience, it were well if every body did the same.” + +I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a +speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt +languid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series +of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it +were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force +of reality. + +As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew +feverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed +me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The +physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared them +for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the +expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the second. +Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer, but the hangman who +would gain his fee? + +These were my first reflections; but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had +shewn me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison to +be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who had +provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to see me; +for, although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of every +human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and +miserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to see +that I was not neglected; but his visits were short, and at long +intervals. + +One day, when I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my +eyes half open, and my cheeks livid like those in death, I was overcome +by gloom and misery, and often reflected I had better seek death than +remain miserably pent up only to be let loose in a world replete with +wretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declare +myself guilty, and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than +poor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts, when the door of my +apartment was opened, and Mr. Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed +sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine, and addressed me +in French— + +“I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do any thing to +make you more comfortable?” + +“I thank you; but all that you mention is nothing to me: on the whole +earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.” + +“I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to +one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I +hope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless, evidence can +easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge.” + +“That is my least concern: I am, by a course of strange events, become +the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have +been, can death be any evil to me?” + +“Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the strange +chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some surprising +accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality: seized +immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was presented +to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so unaccountable a +manner, and placed, as it were, by some fiend across your path.” + +As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on this +retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at the +knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some +astonishment was exhibited in my countenance; for Mr. Kirwin hastened to +say— + +“It was not until a day or two after your illness that I thought of +examining your dress, that I might discover some trace by which I could +send to your relations an account of your misfortune and illness. I +found several letters, and, among others, one which I discovered from +its commencement to be from your father. I instantly wrote to Geneva: +nearly two months have elapsed since the departure of my letter.—But +you are ill; even now you tremble: you are unfit for agitation of any +kind.” + +“This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event: +tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am +now to lament.” + +“Your family is perfectly well,” said Mr. Kirwin, with gentleness; “and +some one, a friend, is come to visit you.” + +I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it +instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my +misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for +me to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, and +cried out in agony— + +“Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him +enter!” + +Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help +regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt, and said, in +rather a severe tone— + +“I should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father +would have been welcome, instead of inspiring such violent repugnance.” + +“My father!” cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed +from anguish to pleasure. “Is my father, indeed, come? How kind, how +very kind. But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?” + +My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he +thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium, +and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose, and +quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it. + +Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the +arrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him, and cried— + +“Are you then safe—and Elizabeth—and Ernest?” + +My father calmed me with assurances of their welfare, and endeavoured, +by dwelling on these subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my +desponding spirits; but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode +of cheerfulness. “What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!” said +he, looking mournfully at the barred windows, and wretched appearance of +the room. “You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to +pursue you. And poor Clerval—” + +The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too +great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears. + +“Alas! yes, my father,” replied I; “some destiny of the most horrible +kind hangs over me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should +have died on the coffin of Henry.” + +We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the +precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that +could insure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in, and insisted that my +strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the +appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I +gradually recovered my health. + +As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black +melancholy, that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was for +ever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation into +which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous +relapse. Alas! why did they preserve so miserable and detested a life? +It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now drawing to a +close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these throbbings, and +relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears me to the dust; +and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also sink to rest. Then +the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present +to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless, +wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer +in its ruins. + +The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months +in prison; and although I was still weak, and in continual danger of a +relapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the +county-town, where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself with +every care of collecting witnesses, and arranging my defence. I was +spared the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was +not brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grand +jury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney +Islands at the hour the body of my friend was found, and a fortnight +after my removal I was liberated from prison. + +My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a +criminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh +atmosphere, and allowed to return to my native country. I did not +participate in these feelings; for to me the walls of a dungeon or a +palace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned for ever; and +although the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I +saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by +no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they +were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs +nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them; +sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw +them in my chamber at Ingolstadt. + +My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked of +Geneva, which I should soon visit—of Elizabeth, and Ernest; but these +words only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a wish +for happiness; and thought, with melancholy delight, of my beloved +cousin; or longed, with a devouring _maladie du pays_, to see once more +the blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early +childhood: but my general state of feeling was a torpor, in which a +prison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and +these fits were seldom interrupted, but by paroxysms of anguish and +despair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the +existence I loathed; and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance +to restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence. + +I remember, as I quitted the prison, I heard one of the men say, “He may +be innocent of the murder, but he has certainly a bad conscience.” These +words struck me. A bad conscience! yes, surely I had one. William, +Justine, and Clerval, had died through my infernal machinations; “And +whose death,” cried I, “is to finish the tragedy? Ah! my father, do not +remain in this wretched country; take me where I may forget myself, my +existence, and all the world.” + +My father easily acceded to my desire; and, after having taken leave of +Mr. Kirwin, we hastened to Dublin. I felt as if I was relieved from a +heavy weight, when the packet sailed with a fair wind from Ireland, and +I had quitted for ever the country which had been to me the scene of so +much misery. + +It was midnight. My father slept in the cabin; and I lay on the deck, +looking at the stars, and listening to the dashing of the waves. I +hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and my pulse beat +with a feverish joy, when I reflected that I should soon see Geneva. The +past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream; yet the vessel in +which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested shore of Ireland, +and the sea which surrounded me, told me too forcibly that I was +deceived by no vision, and that Clerval, my friend and dearest +companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my creation. I +repassed, in my memory, my whole life; my quiet happiness while residing +with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my departure for +Ingolstadt. I remembered shuddering at the mad enthusiasm that hurried +me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to mind the +night during which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the train of +thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept bitterly. + +Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the custom of taking +every night a small quantity of laudanum; for it was by means of this +drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest necessary for the +preservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection of my various +misfortunes, I now took a double dose, and soon slept profoundly. But +sleep did not afford me respite from thought and misery; my dreams +presented a thousand objects that scared me. Towards morning I was +possessed by a kind of night-mare; I felt the fiend’s grasp in my neck, +and could not free myself from it; groans and cries rung in my ears. My +father, who was watching over me, perceiving my restlessness, awoke me, +and pointed to the port of Holyhead, which we were now entering. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +We had resolved not to go to London, but to cross the country to +Portsmouth, and thence to embark for Havre. I preferred this plan +principally because I dreaded to see again those places in which I had +enjoyed a few moments of tranquillity with my beloved Clerval. I thought +with horror of seeing again those persons whom we had been accustomed to +visit together, and who might make inquiries concerning an event, the +very remembrance of which made me again feel the pang I endured when I +gazed on his lifeless form in the inn at ——. + +As for my father, his desires and exertions were bounded to the again +seeing me restored to health and peace of mind. His tenderness and +attentions were unremitting; my grief and gloom was obstinate, but he +would not despair. Sometimes he thought that I felt deeply the +degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of murder, and he +endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride. + +“Alas! my father,” said I, “how little do you know me. Human beings, +their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded, if such a wretch +as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I, +and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause +of this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all died by +my hands.” + +My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same +assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an +explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as caused by +delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had +presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved +in my convalescence. I avoided explanation, and maintained a continual +silence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a feeling that I +should be supposed mad, and this for ever chained my tongue, when I +would have given the whole world to have confided the fatal secret. + +Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded +wonder, “What do you mean, Victor? are you mad? My dear son, I entreat +you never to make such an assertion again.” + +“I am not mad,” I cried energetically; “the sun and the heavens, who +have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the +assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. A +thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have +saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not +sacrifice the whole human race.” + +The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were +deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation, and +endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as +possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in +Ireland, and never alluded to them, or suffered me to speak of my +misfortunes. + +As time passed away I became more calm: misery had her dwelling in my +heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own +crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost +self-violence, I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which +sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world; and my manners +were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey +to the sea of ice. + +We arrived at Havre on the 8th of May, and instantly proceeded to Paris, +where my father had some business which detained us a few weeks. In this +city, I received the following letter from Elizabeth:— + + * * * * * + +“_To_ VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN. + +“MY DEAREST FRIEND, + +“It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle +dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may +hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you +must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than when +you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, tortured +as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in your +countenance, and to find that your heart is not totally devoid of +comfort and tranquillity. + +“Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable +a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at +this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you; but a conversation +that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders some +explanation necessary before we meet. + +“Explanation! you may possibly say; what can Elizabeth have to explain? +If you really say this, my questions are answered, and I have no more to +do than to sign myself your affectionate cousin. But you are distant +from me, and it is possible that you may dread, and yet be pleased with +this explanation; and, in a probability of this being the case, I dare +not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I have often +wished to express to you, but have never had the courage to begin. + +“You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of +your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and +taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take +place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I +believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But as +brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each +other, without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our +case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you, by our mutual +happiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another? + +“You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at +Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last +autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude, from the society of every +creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our +connexion, and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of +your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But +this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my cousin, that I love you, +and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend +and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own, when +I declare to you, that our marriage would render me eternally miserable, +unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to +think, that, borne down as you are by the cruelest misfortunes, you may +stifle, by the word _honour_, all hope of that love and happiness which +would alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so interested an +affection for you, may increase your miseries ten-fold, by being an +obstacle to your wishes. Ah, Victor, be assured that your cousin and +playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this +supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one +request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to +interrupt my tranquillity. + +“Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer it to-morrow, or the +next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle +will send me news of your health; and if I see but one smile on your +lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I +shall need no other happiness. + +“ELIZABETH LAVENZA. + +“Geneva, May 18th, 17—.” + + * * * * * + +This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat +of the fiend—“_I will be with you on your wedding-night!_” Such was my +sentence, and on that night would the dæmon employ every art to destroy +me, and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to +console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his +crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then +assuredly take place, in which if he was victorious, I should be at +peace, and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I +should be a free man. Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys +when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt, +his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, pennyless, and +alone, but free. Such would be my liberty, except that in my Elizabeth I +possessed a treasure; alas! balanced by those horrors of remorse and +guilt, which would pursue me until death. + +Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and re-read her letter, and some +softened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisaical +dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the +angel’s arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her +happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet, +again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My +destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner; but if my torturer +should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would +surely find other, and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had +vowed _to be with me on my wedding-night_, yet he did not consider that +threat as binding him to peace in the mean time; for, as if to shew me +that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval +immediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore, +that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to her’s +or my father’s happiness, my adversary’s designs against my life should +not retard it a single hour. + +In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and +affectionate. “I fear, my beloved girl,” I said, “little happiness +remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is concentered +in you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my +life, and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a +dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with +horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only +wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of +misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place; +for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But +until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most +earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply.” + +In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth’s letter, we returned to +Geneva. My cousin welcomed me with warm affection; yet tears were in her +eyes, as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a +change in her also. She was thinner, and had lost much of that heavenly +vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness, and soft looks +of compassion, made her a more fit companion for one blasted and +miserable as I was. + +The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought +madness with it; and when I thought on what had passed, a real insanity +possessed me; sometimes I was furious, and burnt with rage, sometimes +low and despondent. I neither spoke or looked, but sat motionless, +bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me. + +Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle +voice would soothe me when transported by passion, and inspire me with +human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me, and for me. When +reason returned, she would remonstrate, and endeavour to inspire me with +resignation. Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for +the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury +there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief. + +Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage with my +cousin. I remained silent. + +“Have you, then, some other attachment?” + +“None on earth. I love Elizabeth, and look forward to our union with +delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate +myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin.” + +“My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us; +but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for +those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be small, +but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when +time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will +be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived.” + +Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the +threat returned: nor can you wonder, that, omnipotent as the fiend had +yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as +invincible; and that when he had pronounced the words, “_I shall be with +you on your wedding-night_,” I should regard the threatened fate as +unavoidable. But death was no evil to me, if the loss of Elizabeth were +balanced with it; and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful +countenance, agreed with my father, that if my cousin would consent, the +ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the +seal to my fate. + +Great God! if for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish +intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself +for ever from my native country, and wandered a friendless outcast over +the earth, than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if +possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real +intentions; and when I thought that I prepared only my own death, I +hastened that of a far dearer victim. + +As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice +or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed +my feelings by an appearance of hilarity, that brought smiles and joy to +the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and +nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid +contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes +had impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness, +might soon dissipate into an airy dream, and leave no trace but deep and +everlasting regret. + +Preparations were made for the event; congratulatory visits were +received; and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I +could, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there, and entered with +seeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might +only serve as the decorations of my tragedy. A house was purchased for +us near Cologny, by which we should enjoy the pleasures of the country, +and yet be so near Geneva as to see my father every day; who would +still reside within the walls, for the benefit of Ernest, that he might +follow his studies at the schools. + +In the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case +the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger +constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and +by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the +period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be +regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for +in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed +for its solemnization drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of +as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent. + +Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to +calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my +destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her; +and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret, which I had +promised to reveal to her the following day. My father was in the mean +time overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only observed in the +melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride. + +After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my +father’s; but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should pass the +afternoon and night at Evian, and return to Cologny the next morning. As +the day was fair, and the wind favourable, we resolved to go by water. + +Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the +feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we +were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the +beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw +Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalêgre, and at a distance, +surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blânc, and the assemblage of snowy +mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the +opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the +ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost +insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it. + +I took the hand of Elizabeth: “You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you +knew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would +endeavour to let me taste the quiet, and freedom from despair, that this +one day at least permits me to enjoy.” + +“Be happy, my dear Victor,” replied Elizabeth; “there is, I hope, +nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not +painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not +to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will +not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and +how the clouds which sometimes obscure, and sometimes rise above the +dome of Mont Blânc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting. +Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear +waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom. +What a divine day! how happy and serene all nature appears!” + +Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all +reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy +for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to +distraction and reverie. + +The sun sunk lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance, and +observed its path through the chasms of the higher, and the glens of the +lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached +the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The +spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it, and the range +of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung. + +The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity, +sunk at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water, +and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore, +from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The +sun sunk beneath the horizon as we landed; and as I touched the shore, I +felt those cares and fears revive, which soon were to clasp me, and +cling to me for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +It was eight o’clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the +shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn, and +contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured +in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines. + +The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in +the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens, and was +beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight +of the vulture, and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene +of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that +were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended. + +I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes +of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and +watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my +bosom; every sound terrified me; but I resolved that I would sell my +life dearly, and not relax the impending conflict until my own life, or +that of my adversary, were extinguished. + +Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful +silence; at length she said, “What is it that agitates you, my dear +Victor? What is it you fear?” + +“Oh! peace, peace, my love,” replied I, “this night, and all will be +safe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.” + +I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how +dreadful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife, +and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until +I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy. + +She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages +of the house, and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to +my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him, and was beginning to +conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the +execution of his menaces; when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful +scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I +heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the +motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood +trickling in my veins, and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This +state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed +into the room. + +Great God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the +destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was +there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging +down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. +Every where I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed +form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this, and +live? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most +hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fainted. + +When I recovered, I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn; +their countenances expressed a breathless terror: but the horror of +others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that +oppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of +Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She +had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her; and +now, as she lay, her head upon her arm, and a handkerchief thrown across +her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards +her, and embraced her with ardour; but the deathly languor and coldness +of the limbs told me, that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be +the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the +fiend’s grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from +her lips. + +While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look +up. The windows of the room had before been darkened; and I felt a kind +of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the +chamber. The shutters had been thrown back; and, with a sensation of +horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most +hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed +to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my +wife. I rushed towards the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom, +shot; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, and, running with the +swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake. + +The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the +spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats; +nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we returned +hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form +conjured by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search the +country, parties going in different directions among the woods and +vines. + +I did not accompany them; I was exhausted: a film covered my eyes, and +my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I lay on a +bed, hardly conscious of what had happened; my eyes wandered round the +room, as if to seek something that I had lost. + +At length I remembered that my father would anxiously expect the return +of Elizabeth and myself, and that I must return alone. This reflection +brought tears into my eyes, and I wept for a long time; but my thoughts +rambled to various subjects, reflecting on my misfortunes, and their +cause. I was bewildered in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death of +William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly of +my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining friends +were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now might be +writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his feet. This +idea made me shudder, and recalled me to action. I started up, and +resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed. + +There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but +the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it +was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I +hired men to row, and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced +relief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing +misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured, rendered +me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar; and, leaning my head +upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I looked up, +I saw the scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time, and which +I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her who was now +but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain +had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the waters as they +had done a few hours before; they had then been observed by Elizabeth. +Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. +The sun might shine, or the clouds might lour; but nothing could appear +to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had snatched from me every +hope of future happiness: no creature had ever been so miserable as I +was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man. + +But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last +overwhelming event. Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have reached +their _acme_, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to you. Know +that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left desolate. My +own strength is exhausted; and I must tell, in a few words, what remains +of my hideous narration. + +I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived; but the former sunk +under the tidings that I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable +old man! his eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and +their delight—his niece, his more than daughter, whom he doated on with +all that affection which a man feels, who, in the decline of life, +having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. +Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs, and +doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the horrors +that were accumulated around him; an apoplectic fit was brought on, and +in a few days he died in my arms. + +What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and +darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes, indeed, +I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales with the +friends of my youth; but awoke, and found myself in a dungeon. +Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear conception of my +miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they +had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary +cell had been my habitation. + +But liberty had been a useless gift to me had I not, as I awakened to +reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the memory of past +misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their cause—the +monster whom I had created, the miserable dæmon whom I had sent abroad +into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a maddening rage +when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might have +him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on his cursed +head. + +Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to +reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about a +month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town, and +told him that I had an accusation to make; that I knew the destroyer of +my family; and that I required him to exert his whole authority for the +apprehension of the murderer. + +The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness: “Be assured, +sir,” said he, “no pains or exertions on my part shall be spared to +discover the villain.” + +“I thank you,” replied I; “listen, therefore, to the deposition that I +have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange, that I should fear you +would not credit it, were there not something in truth which, however +wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be mistaken +for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.” My manner, as I thus +addressed him, was impressive, but calm; I had formed in my own heart a +resolution to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my +agony, and provisionally reconciled me to life. I now related my history +briefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with +accuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation. + +The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I +continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes +shudder with horror, at others a lively surprise, unmingled with +disbelief, was painted on his countenance. + +When I had concluded my narration, I said. “This is the being whom I +accuse, and for whose detection and punishment I call upon you to exert +your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and +hope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of +those functions on this occasion.” + +This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my +auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is +given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was +called upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his +incredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, “I would willingly +afford you every aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you +speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to +defiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice, +and inhabit caves and dens, where no man would venture to intrude? +Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes, +and no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered, or what region +he may now inhabit.” + +“I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit; and if he +has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois, +and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts: you do +not credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the +punishment which is his desert.” + +As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated; +“You are mistaken,” said he, “I will exert myself; and if it is in my +power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment +proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself +described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable, and +that, while every proper measure is pursued, you should endeavour to +make up your mind to disappointment.” + +“That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My +revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I +confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is +unspeakable, when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose +upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand: I have but one +resource; and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his +destruction.” + +I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a phrenzy +in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness, +which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan +magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of +devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of +madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and +reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium. + +“Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease; +you know not what it is you say.” + +I broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on +some other mode of action. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was +swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed +me with strength and composure; it modelled my feelings, and allowed me +to be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death +would have been my portion. + +My first resolution was to quit Geneva for ever; my country, which, when +I was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became +hateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few +jewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed. + +And now my wanderings began, which are to cease but with life. I have +traversed a vast portion of the earth, and have endured all the +hardships which travellers, in deserts and barbarous countries, are wont +to meet. How I have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my +failing limbs upon the sandy plain, and prayed for death. But revenge +kept me alive; I dared not die, and leave my adversary in being. + +When I quitted Geneva, my first labour was to gain some clue by which I +might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled; +and I wandered many hours around the confines of the town, uncertain +what path I should pursue. As night approached, I found myself at the +entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father, +reposed. I entered it, and approached the tomb which marked their +graves. Every thing was silent, except the leaves of the trees, which +were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark; and the +scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested +observer. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around, and to cast +a shadow, which was felt but seen not, around the head of the mourner. + +The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to +rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also +lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on +the grass, and kissed the earth, and with quivering lips exclaimed, “By +the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by +the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night, +and by the spirits that preside over thee, I swear to pursue the dæmon, +who caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. +For this purpose I will preserve my life: to execute this dear revenge, +will I again behold the sun, and tread the green herbage of earth, which +otherwise should vanish from my eyes for ever. And I call on you, +spirits of the dead; and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to +aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster drink +deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me.” + +I had begun my adjuration with solemnity, and an awe which almost +assured me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my +devotion; but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choaked +my utterance. + +I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish +laugh. It rung on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed it, +and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter. +Surely in that moment I should have been possessed by phrenzy, and have +destroyed my miserable existence, but that my vow was heard, and that I +was reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away: when a well-known +and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an +audible whisper—“I am satisfied: miserable wretch! you have determined +to live, and I am satisfied.” + +I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded; but the devil +eluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose, and shone +full upon his ghastly and distorted shape, as he fled with more than +mortal speed. + +I pursued him; and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a +slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The blue +Mediterranean appeared; and, by a strange chance, I saw the fiend enter +by night, and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I took +my passage in the same ship; but he escaped, I know not how. + +Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I +have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by this +horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, who +feared that if I lost all trace I should despair and die, often left +some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw the +print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering on +life, to whom care is new, and agony unknown, how can you understand +what I have felt, and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue, were the least +pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil, and +carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good +followed and directed my steps, and, when I most murmured, would +suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. +Sometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sunk under the exhaustion, a +repast was prepared for me in the desert, that restored and inspirited +me. The fare was indeed coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate; +but I may not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had +invoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and I +was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the few +drops that revived me, and vanish. + +I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the dæmon +generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the +country chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom +seen; and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my +path. I had money with me, and gained the friendship of the villagers by +distributing it, or bringing with me some food that I had killed, which, +after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had provided +me with fire and utensils for cooking. + +My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during +sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! often, when most +miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture. +The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather hours, +of happiness, that I might retain strength to fulfil my pilgrimage. +Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my hardships. During +the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope of night: for in +sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved country; again I saw the +benevolent countenance of my father, heard the silver tones of my +Elizabeth’s voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying health and youth. Often, +when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded myself that I was dreaming +until night should come, and that I should then enjoy reality in the +arms of my dearest friends. What agonizing fondness did I feel for them! +how did I cling to their dear forms, as sometimes they haunted even my +waking hours, and persuade myself that they still lived! At such +moments vengeance, that burned within me, died in my heart, and I +pursued my path towards the destruction of the dæmon, more as a task +enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of some power of which I +was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my soul. + +What his feelings were whom I pursued, I cannot know. Sometimes, indeed, +he left marks in writing on the barks of the trees, or cut in stone, +that guided me, and instigated my fury. “My reign is not yet over,” +(these words were legible in one of these inscriptions); “you live, and +my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the +north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to which I am +impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not too tardily, +a dead hare; eat, and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we have yet to +wrestle for our lives; but many hard and miserable hours must you +endure, until that period shall arrive.” + +Scoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee, +miserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I omit my search, +until he or I perish; and then with what ecstacy shall I join my +Elizabeth, and those who even now prepare for me the reward of my +tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage. + +As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened, and +the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The +peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy +ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from +their hiding places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice, +and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief +article of maintenance. + +The triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One +inscription that he left was in these words: “Prepare! your toils only +begin: wrap yourself in furs, and provide food, for we shall soon enter +upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting +hatred.” + +My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I +resolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support +me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until +the ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the +horizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered +with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior +wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the +Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the +boundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a +full heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the +place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary’s gibe, to meet and +grapple with him. + +Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs, and thus +traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the +fiend possessed the same advantages; but I found that, as before I had +daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him; so much so, that +when I first saw the ocean, he was but one day’s journey in advance, and +I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new +courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched +hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the +fiend, and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said, +had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols; putting +to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage, through fear of his +terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter food, and, +placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a numerous drove +of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same night, to the joy +of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his journey across the sea +in a direction that led to no land; and they conjectured that he must +speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice, or frozen by the +eternal frosts. + +On hearing this information, I suffered a temporary access of despair. +He had escaped me; and I must commence a destructive and almost endless +journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean,—amidst cold that few +of the inhabitants could long endure, and which I, the native of a +genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea +that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance +returned, and, like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling. +After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered +round, and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my +journey. + +I exchanged my land sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of the +frozen ocean; and, purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I +departed from land. + +I cannot guess how many days have passed since then; but I have endured +misery, which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution +burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and +rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard +the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But +again the frost came, and made the paths of the sea secure. + +By the quantity of provision which I had consumed I should guess that I +had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction of +hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of +despondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured +her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery; when once, +after the poor animals that carried me had with incredible toil gained +the summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one sinking under his fatigue +died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye +caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to +discover what it could be, and uttered a wild cry of ecstacy when I +distinguished a sledge, and the distorted proportions of a well-known +form within. Oh! with what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart! +warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might +not intercept the view I had of the dæmon; but still my sight was dimmed +by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that oppressed +me, I wept aloud. + +But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their +dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food; and, after an +hour’s rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly +irksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible; nor +did I again lose sight of it, except at the moments when for a short +time some ice rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed +perceptibly gained on it; and when, after nearly two days’ journey, I +beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within +me. + +But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my enemy, my hopes were +suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I +had ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its +progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every +moment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind +arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, +it split, and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. The work +was soon finished: in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me +and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece of ice, that +was continually lessening, and thus preparing for me a hideous death. + +In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and +I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I +saw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of +succour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever came so far +north, and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my +sledge to construct oars; and by these means was enabled, with infinite +fatigue, to move my ice-raft in the direction of your ship. I had +determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the +mercy of the seas, rather than abandon my purpose. I hoped to induce you +to grant me a boat with which I could still pursue my enemy. But your +direction was northward. You took me on board when my vigour was +exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships +into a death, which I still dread,—for my task is unfulfilled. + +Oh! when will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the dæmon, allow me +the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do, +swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape; that you will seek him, +and satisfy my vengeance in his death. Yet, do I dare ask you to +undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone? +No; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear; if +the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he +shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated +woes, and live to make another such a wretch as I am. He is eloquent +and persuasive; and once his words had even power over my heart: but +trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and +fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the manes of William, Justine, +Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and thrust +your sword into his heart. I will hover near, and direct the steel +aright. + + * * * * * + +WALTON, _in continuation_. + +August 26th, 17—. + +You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not +feel your blood congealed with horror, like that which even now curdles +mine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his +tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with difficulty +the words so replete with agony. His fine and lovely eyes were now +lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow, and +quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his +countenance and tones, and related the most horrible incidents with a +tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a +volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression +of the wildest rage, as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor. + +His tale is connected, and told with an appearance of the simplest +truth; yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he +shewed me, and the apparition of the monster, seen from our ship, +brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than +his asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has +then really existence; I cannot doubt it; yet I am lost in surprise and +admiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the +particulars of his creature’s formation; but on this point he was +impenetrable. + +“Are you mad, my friend?” said he, “or whither does your senseless +curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the world a +demoniacal enemy? Or to what do your questions tend? Peace, peace! learn +my miseries, and do not seek to increase your own.” + +Frankenstein discovered that I made notes concerning his history: he +asked to see them, and then himself corrected and augmented them in many +places; but principally in giving the life and spirit to the +conversations he held with his enemy. “Since you have preserved my +narration,” said he, “I would not that a mutilated one should go down to +posterity.” + +Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest tale +that ever imagination formed. My thoughts, and every feeling of my soul, +have been drunk up by the interest for my guest, which this tale, and +his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe him; +yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of every +hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! the only joy that he can now know +will be when he composes his shattered feelings to peace and death. Yet +he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and delirium: he +believes, that, when in dreams he holds converse with his friends, and +derives from that communion consolation for his miseries, or excitements +to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his fancy, but the +real beings who visit him from the regions of a remote world. This faith +gives a solemnity to his reveries that render them to me almost as +imposing and interesting as truth. + +Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and +misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded +knowledge, and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is +forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic +incident, or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without +tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his +prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin. He seems to feel +his own worth, and the greatness of his fall. + +“When younger,” said he, “I felt as if I were destined for some great +enterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness of +judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of +the worth of my nature supported me, when others would have been +oppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those +talents that might be useful to my fellow-creatures. When I reflected on +the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a +sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of +common projectors. But this feeling, which supported me in the +commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the +dust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing; and, like the +archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell. +My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were +intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and +executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect, without +passion, my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my +thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their +effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty +ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I +once was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation. +Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me +on, until I fell, never, never again to rise.” + +Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I +have sought one who would sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these +desert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained him only +to know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he +repulses the idea. + +“I thank you, Walton,” he said, “for your kind intentions towards so +miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties, and fresh +affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any +man be to me as Clerval was; or any woman another Elizabeth? Even where +the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, the +companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our +minds, which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our infantine +dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified, are never +eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more certain +conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a brother +can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shewn early, suspect +the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend, however +strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be invaded with +suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only through habit and +association, but from their own merits; and, wherever I am, the soothing +voice of my Elizabeth, and the conversation of Clerval, will be ever +whispered in my ear. They are dead; and but one feeling in such a +solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in any +high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive utility to my +fellow-creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But such is not my +destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence; +then my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die.” + + * * * * * + +September 2d. + +MY BELOVED SISTER, + +I write to you, encompassed by peril, and ignorant whether I am ever +doomed to see again dear England, and the dearer friends that inhabit +it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice, which admit of no escape, and +threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows, whom I have +persuaded to be my companions, look towards me for aid; but I have none +to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our situation, yet +my courage and hopes do not desert me. We may survive; and if we do not, +I will repeat the lessons of my Seneca, and die with a good heart. + +Yet what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear of +my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will pass, +and you will have visitings of despair, and yet be tortured by hope. Oh! +my beloved sister, the sickening failings of your heart-felt +expectations are, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death. +But you have a husband, and lovely children; you may be happy: heaven +bless you, and make you so! + +My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He +endeavours to fill me with hope; and talks as if life were a possession +which he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have +happened to other navigators, who have attempted this sea, and, in spite +of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel the +power of his eloquence: when he speaks, they no longer despair: he +rouses their energies, and, while they hear his voice, they believe +these vast mountains of ice are mole-hills, which will vanish before the +resolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day’s +expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny +caused by this despair. + + * * * * * + +September 5th. + +A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest, that although it is +highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot +forbear recording it. + +We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger of +being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of my +unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of +desolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health: a feverish fire +still glimmers in his eyes; but he is exhausted, and, when suddenly +roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent +lifelessness. + +I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. This +morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend—his eyes +half closed, and his limbs hanging listlessly,—I was roused by half a +dozen of the sailors, who desired admission into the cabin. They +entered; and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his +companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation to +me, to make me a demand, which, in justice, I could not refuse. We were +immured in ice, and should probably never escape; but they feared that +if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate, and a free passage be +opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage, and lead them +into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted this. They +desired, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn promise, that if +the vessel should be freed, I would instantly direct my coarse +southward. + +This speech troubled me. I had not despaired; nor had I yet conceived +the idea of returning, if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in +possibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered; when +Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and, indeed, appeared hardly +to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled, +and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men, +he said— + +“What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so +easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious +expedition? and wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was +smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers +and terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be +called forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death +surrounded, and these dangers you were to brave and overcome. For this +was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were +hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your name +adored, as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and +the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of +danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your +courage, you shrink away, and are content to be handed down as men who +had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls, +they were chilly, and returned to their warm fire-sides. Why, that +requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far, and +dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat, merely to prove +yourselves cowards. Oh! be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your +purposes, and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your +hearts might be; it is mutable, cannot withstand you, if you say that it +shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace +marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered, +and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.” + +He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings +expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and +heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved. They looked at +one another, and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire, +and consider of what had been said: that I would not lead them further +north, if they strenuously desired the contrary; but that I hoped that, +with reflection, their courage would return. + +They retired, and I turned towards my friend; but he was sunk in +languor, and almost deprived of life. + +How all this will terminate, I know not; but I had rather die, than +return shamefully,—my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my +fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never +willingly continue to endure their present hardships. + + * * * * * + +September 7th. + +The die is cast; I have consented to return, if we are not destroyed. +Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back +ignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess, +to bear this injustice with patience. + + * * * * * + +September 12th. + +It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility +and glory;—I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these +bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and, while I am wafted +towards England, and towards you, I will not despond. + +September 19th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were +heard at a distance, as the islands split and cracked in every +direction. We were in the most imminent peril; but, as we could only +remain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest, +whose illness increased in such a degree, that he was entirely confined +to his bed. The ice cracked behind us, and was driven with force towards +the north; a breeze sprung from the west, and on the 11th the passage +towards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors saw this, and +that their return to their native country was apparently assured, a +shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud and long-continued. +Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke, and asked the cause of the tumult. +“They shout,” I said, “because they will soon return to England.” + +“Do you then really return?” + +“Alas! yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them +unwillingly to danger, and I must return.” + +“Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose; but +mine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak; but surely +the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with sufficient +strength.” Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the bed, but the +exertion was too great for him; he fell back, and fainted. + +It was long before he was restored; and I often thought that life was +entirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes, but he breathed with +difficulty, and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing +draught, and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the mean time he +told me, that my friend had certainly not many hours to live. + +His sentence was pronounced; and I could only grieve, and be patient. I +sat by his bed watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he +slept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and, bidding me +come near, said—“Alas! the strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I +shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in being. +Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I feel that +burning hatred, and ardent desire of revenge, I once expressed, but I +feel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary. During +these last days I have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor +do I find it blameable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a +rational creature, and was bound towards him, to assure, as far as was +in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty; but there +was another still paramount to that. My duties towards my +fellow-creatures had greater claims to my attention, because they +included a greater proportion of happiness or misery. Urged by this +view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for +the first creature. He shewed unparalleled malignity and selfishness, in +evil: he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction beings who +possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I know +where this thirst for vengeance may end. Miserable himself, that he may +render no other wretched, he ought to die. The task of his destruction +was mine, but I have failed. When actuated by selfish and vicious +motives, I asked you to undertake my unfinished work; and I renew this +request now, when I am only induced by reason and virtue. + +“Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends, to fulfil +this task; and now, that you are returning to England, you will have +little chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these +points, and the well-balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I +leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near +approach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I +may still be misled by passion. + +“That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in +other respects this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the +only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of the +beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell, +Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity, and avoid ambition, even if it +be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in +science and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been +blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed.” + +His voice became fainter as he spoke; and at length, exhausted by his +effort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards he attempted +again to speak, but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes +closed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away +from his lips. + +Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this +glorious spirit? What can I say, that will enable you to understand the +depth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and +feeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of +disappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find +consolation. + +I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the +breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again; there +is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin +where the remains of Frankenstein still lie. I must arise, and examine. +Good night, my sister. + +Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I am yet dizzy with the +remembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power to +detail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete +without this final and wonderful catastrophe. + +I entered the cabin, where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable +friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe; +gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he +hung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long locks of ragged +hair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture +like that of a mummy. When he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased +to utter exclamations of grief and horror, and sprung towards the +window. Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such +loathsome, yet appalling hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily, and +endeavoured to recollect what were my duties with regard to this +destroyer. I called on him to stay. + +He paused, looking on me with wonder; and, again turning towards the +lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and every +feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some +uncontrollable passion. + +“That is also my victim!” he exclaimed; “in his murder my crimes are +consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh, +Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I +now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by +destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me.” + +His voice seemed suffocated; and my first impulses, which had suggested +to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend, in destroying +his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and compassion. +I approached this tremendous being; I dared not again raise my looks +upon his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his +ugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The +monster continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At +length I gathered resolution to address him, in a pause of the tempest +of his passion: “Your repentance,” I said, “is now superfluous. If you +had listened to the voice of conscience, and heeded the stings of +remorse, before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this +extremity, Frankenstein would yet have lived.” + +“And do you dream?” said the dæmon; “do you think that I was then dead +to agony and remorse?—He,” he continued, pointing to the corpse, “he +suffered not more in the consummation of the deed;—oh! not the +ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the lingering +detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while +my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think ye that the groans of Clerval +were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love +and sympathy; and, when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did +not endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot +even imagine. + +“After the murder of Clerval, I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken +and overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror: I +abhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of my +existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for happiness; +that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me, he sought +his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the indulgence of which +I was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter indignation filled +me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I recollected my threat, and +resolved that it should be accomplished. I knew that I was preparing for +myself a deadly torture; but I was the slave, not the master of an +impulse, which I detested, yet could not disobey. Yet when she +died!—nay, then I was not miserable. I had cast off all feeling, +subdued all anguish to riot in the excess of my despair. Evil +thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no choice but to adapt +my nature to an element which I had willingly chosen. The completion of +my demoniacal design became an insatiable passion. And now it is ended; +there is my last victim!” + +I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet when I +called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence and +persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of my +friend, indignation was re-kindled within me. “Wretch!” I said, “it is +well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have made. +You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are consumed +you sit among the ruins, and lament the fall. Hypocritical fiend! if he +whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, again would he +become the prey of your accursed vengeance. It is not pity that you +feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn +from your power.” + +“Oh, it is not thus—not thus,” interrupted the being; “yet such must be +the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of my +actions. Yet I seek not a fellow-feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I +ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the +feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being +overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now, that virtue has +become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into +bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am +content to suffer alone, while my sufferings shall endure: when I die, I +am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. +Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of +enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings, who, pardoning my +outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was +capable of bringing forth. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour +and devotion. But now vice has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. +No crime, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable +to mine. When I call over the frightful catalogue of my deeds, I cannot +believe that I am he whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and +transcendant visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it +is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that +enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am +quite alone. + +“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my +crimes and his misfortunes. But, in the detail which he gave you of +them, he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I +endured, wasting in impotent passions. For whilst I destroyed his hopes, +I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; +still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there +no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all +human kind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his +friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic +who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous +and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an +abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my +blood boils at the recollection of this injustice. + +“But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the +helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept, and grasped to +death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I have +devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of love +and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to that +irremediable ruin. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me; +but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look +on the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the +imagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when they will +meet my eyes, when it will haunt my thoughts, no more. + +“Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is +nearly complete. Neither your’s nor any man’s death is needed to +consummate the series of my being, and accomplish that which must be +done; but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to +perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice-raft which +brought me hither, and shall seek the most northern extremity of the +globe; I shall collect my funeral pile, and consume to ashes this +miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and +unhallowed wretch, who would create such another as I have been. I shall +die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me, or be the +prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me +into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both +will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel +the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away; +and in this condition must I find my happiness. Some years ago, when the +images which this world affords first opened upon me, when I felt the +cheering warmth of summer, and heard the rustling of the leaves and the +chirping of the birds, and these were all to me, I should have wept to +die; now it is my only consolation. Polluted by crimes, and torn by the +bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death? + +“Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of human kind whom these +eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive, +and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better +satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou +didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness; +and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hast not yet ceased to +think and feel, thou desirest not my life for my own misery. Blasted as +thou wert, my agony was still superior to thine; for the bitter sting of +remorse may not cease to rankle in my wounds until death shall close +them for ever. + +“But soon,” he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, “I shall die, and +what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be +extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly, and exult in the +agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade +away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will +sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. +Farewell.” + +He sprung from the cabin-window, as he said this, upon the ice-raft +which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves, and +lost in darkness and distance. + + +THE END. diff --git a/search-engine/books/Gulliver's Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World.txt b/search-engine/books/Gulliver's Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1112252 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Gulliver's Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9540 @@ +Title: Gulliver's Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World +Author: Jonathan Swift + +GULLIVER’S TRAVELS + +into several + +REMOTE NATIONS OF THE WORLD + + +BY JONATHAN SWIFT, D.D., + +dean of st. patrick’s, dublin. + +[_First published in_ 1726–7.] + +cover + +Contents + + + THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER. + A LETTER FROM CAPTAIN GULLIVER TO HIS COUSIN SYMPSON. + PART I. A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. + PART II. A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG. + PART III. A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI, GLUBBDUBDRIB, LUGGNAGG AND JAPAN. + PART IV. A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHNMS. + + +THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER. + +[_As given in the original edition_.] + + +The author of these Travels, Mr. Lemuel Gulliver, is my ancient and +intimate friend; there is likewise some relation between us on the +mother’s side. About three years ago, Mr. Gulliver growing weary of the +concourse of curious people coming to him at his house in Redriff, made +a small purchase of land, with a convenient house, near Newark, in +Nottinghamshire, his native country; where he now lives retired, yet in +good esteem among his neighbours. + +Although Mr. Gulliver was born in Nottinghamshire, where his father +dwelt, yet I have heard him say his family came from Oxfordshire; to +confirm which, I have observed in the churchyard at Banbury in that +county, several tombs and monuments of the Gullivers. + +Before he quitted Redriff, he left the custody of the following papers +in my hands, with the liberty to dispose of them as I should think fit. +I have carefully perused them three times. The style is very plain and +simple; and the only fault I find is, that the author, after the manner +of travellers, is a little too circumstantial. There is an air of truth +apparent through the whole; and indeed the author was so distinguished +for his veracity, that it became a sort of proverb among his neighbours +at Redriff, when any one affirmed a thing, to say, it was as true as if +Mr. Gulliver had spoken it. + +By the advice of several worthy persons, to whom, with the author’s +permission, I communicated these papers, I now venture to send them +into the world, hoping they may be, at least for some time, a better +entertainment to our young noblemen, than the common scribbles of +politics and party. + +This volume would have been at least twice as large, if I had not made +bold to strike out innumerable passages relating to the winds and +tides, as well as to the variations and bearings in the several +voyages, together with the minute descriptions of the management of the +ship in storms, in the style of sailors; likewise the account of +longitudes and latitudes; wherein I have reason to apprehend, that Mr. +Gulliver may be a little dissatisfied. But I was resolved to fit the +work as much as possible to the general capacity of readers. However, +if my own ignorance in sea affairs shall have led me to commit some +mistakes, I alone am answerable for them. And if any traveller hath a +curiosity to see the whole work at large, as it came from the hands of +the author, I will be ready to gratify him. + +As for any further particulars relating to the author, the reader will +receive satisfaction from the first pages of the book. + + + RICHARD SYMPSON. + + +A LETTER FROM CAPTAIN GULLIVER TO HIS COUSIN SYMPSON. + +Written in the Year 1727. + +I hope you will be ready to own publicly, whenever you shall be called +to it, that by your great and frequent urgency you prevailed on me to +publish a very loose and uncorrect account of my travels, with +directions to hire some young gentleman of either university to put +them in order, and correct the style, as my cousin Dampier did, by my +advice, in his book called “A Voyage round the world.” But I do not +remember I gave you power to consent that any thing should be omitted, +and much less that any thing should be inserted; therefore, as to the +latter, I do here renounce every thing of that kind; particularly a +paragraph about her majesty Queen Anne, of most pious and glorious +memory; although I did reverence and esteem her more than any of human +species. But you, or your interpolator, ought to have considered, that +it was not my inclination, so was it not decent to praise any animal of +our composition before my master _Houyhnhnm_: And besides, the fact was +altogether false; for to my knowledge, being in England during some +part of her majesty’s reign, she did govern by a chief minister; nay +even by two successively, the first whereof was the lord of Godolphin, +and the second the lord of Oxford; so that you have made me say the +thing that was not. Likewise in the account of the academy of +projectors, and several passages of my discourse to my master +_Houyhnhnm_, you have either omitted some material circumstances, or +minced or changed them in such a manner, that I do hardly know my own +work. When I formerly hinted to you something of this in a letter, you +were pleased to answer that you were afraid of giving offence; that +people in power were very watchful over the press, and apt not only to +interpret, but to punish every thing which looked like an _innuendo_ +(as I think you call it). But, pray how could that which I spoke so +many years ago, and at about five thousand leagues distance, in another +reign, be applied to any of the _Yahoos_, who now are said to govern +the herd; especially at a time when I little thought, or feared, the +unhappiness of living under them? Have not I the most reason to +complain, when I see these very _Yahoos_ carried by _Houyhnhnms_ in a +vehicle, as if they were brutes, and those the rational creatures? And +indeed to avoid so monstrous and detestable a sight was one principal +motive of my retirement hither. + +Thus much I thought proper to tell you in relation to yourself, and to +the trust I reposed in you. + +I do, in the next place, complain of my own great want of judgment, in +being prevailed upon by the entreaties and false reasoning of you and +some others, very much against my own opinion, to suffer my travels to +be published. Pray bring to your mind how often I desired you to +consider, when you insisted on the motive of public good, that the +_Yahoos_ were a species of animals utterly incapable of amendment by +precept or example: and so it has proved; for, instead of seeing a full +stop put to all abuses and corruptions, at least in this little island, +as I had reason to expect; behold, after above six months warning, I +cannot learn that my book has produced one single effect according to +my intentions. I desired you would let me know, by a letter, when party +and faction were extinguished; judges learned and upright; pleaders +honest and modest, with some tincture of common sense, and Smithfield +blazing with pyramids of law books; the young nobility’s education +entirely changed; the physicians banished; the female _Yahoos_ +abounding in virtue, honour, truth, and good sense; courts and levees +of great ministers thoroughly weeded and swept; wit, merit, and +learning rewarded; all disgracers of the press in prose and verse +condemned to eat nothing but their own cotton, and quench their thirst +with their own ink. These, and a thousand other reformations, I firmly +counted upon by your encouragement; as indeed they were plainly +deducible from the precepts delivered in my book. And it must be owned, +that seven months were a sufficient time to correct every vice and +folly to which _Yahoos_ are subject, if their natures had been capable +of the least disposition to virtue or wisdom. Yet, so far have you been +from answering my expectation in any of your letters; that on the +contrary you are loading our carrier every week with libels, and keys, +and reflections, and memoirs, and second parts; wherein I see myself +accused of reflecting upon great state folk; of degrading human nature +(for so they have still the confidence to style it), and of abusing the +female sex. I find likewise that the writers of those bundles are not +agreed among themselves; for some of them will not allow me to be the +author of my own travels; and others make me author of books to which I +am wholly a stranger. + +I find likewise that your printer has been so careless as to confound +the times, and mistake the dates, of my several voyages and returns; +neither assigning the true year, nor the true month, nor day of the +month: and I hear the original manuscript is all destroyed since the +publication of my book; neither have I any copy left: however, I have +sent you some corrections, which you may insert, if ever there should +be a second edition: and yet I cannot stand to them; but shall leave +that matter to my judicious and candid readers to adjust it as they +please. + +I hear some of our sea _Yahoos_ find fault with my sea-language, as not +proper in many parts, nor now in use. I cannot help it. In my first +voyages, while I was young, I was instructed by the oldest mariners, +and learned to speak as they did. But I have since found that the sea +_Yahoos_ are apt, like the land ones, to become new-fangled in their +words, which the latter change every year; insomuch, as I remember upon +each return to my own country their old dialect was so altered, that I +could hardly understand the new. And I observe, when any _Yahoo_ comes +from London out of curiosity to visit me at my house, we neither of us +are able to deliver our conceptions in a manner intelligible to the +other. + +If the censure of the _Yahoos_ could any way affect me, I should have +great reason to complain, that some of them are so bold as to think my +book of travels a mere fiction out of mine own brain, and have gone so +far as to drop hints, that the _Houyhnhnms_ and _Yahoos_ have no more +existence than the inhabitants of Utopia. + +Indeed I must confess, that as to the people of _Lilliput_, +_Brobdingrag_ (for so the word should have been spelt, and not +erroneously _Brobdingnag_), and _Laputa_, I have never yet heard of any +_Yahoo_ so presumptuous as to dispute their being, or the facts I have +related concerning them; because the truth immediately strikes every +reader with conviction. And is there less probability in my account of +the _Houyhnhnms_ or _Yahoos_, when it is manifest as to the latter, +there are so many thousands even in this country, who only differ from +their brother brutes in _Houyhnhnmland_, because they use a sort of +jabber, and do not go naked? I wrote for their amendment, and not their +approbation. The united praise of the whole race would be of less +consequence to me, than the neighing of those two degenerate +_Houyhnhnms_ I keep in my stable; because from these, degenerate as +they are, I still improve in some virtues without any mixture of vice. + +Do these miserable animals presume to think, that I am so degenerated +as to defend my veracity? _Yahoo_ as I am, it is well known through all +_Houyhnhnmland_, that, by the instructions and example of my +illustrious master, I was able in the compass of two years (although I +confess with the utmost difficulty) to remove that infernal habit of +lying, shuffling, deceiving, and equivocating, so deeply rooted in the +very souls of all my species; especially the Europeans. + +I have other complaints to make upon this vexatious occasion; but I +forbear troubling myself or you any further. I must freely confess, +that since my last return, some corruptions of my _Yahoo_ nature have +revived in me by conversing with a few of your species, and +particularly those of my own family, by an unavoidable necessity; else +I should never have attempted so absurd a project as that of reforming +the _Yahoo_ race in this kingdom; but I have now done with all such +visionary schemes for ever. + +_April_ 2, 1727 + + +PART I. A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT. + + +CHAPTER I. + +The author gives some account of himself and family. His first +inducements to travel. He is shipwrecked, and swims for his life, gets +safe on shore in the country of Lilliput; is made a prisoner, and +carried up the country. + + +My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire; I was the third of +five sons. He sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge at fourteen years +old, where I resided three years, and applied myself close to my +studies; but the charge of maintaining me, although I had a very scanty +allowance, being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice +to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in London, with whom I continued +four years. My father now and then sending me small sums of money, I +laid them out in learning navigation, and other parts of the +mathematics, useful to those who intend to travel, as I always believed +it would be, some time or other, my fortune to do. When I left Mr. +Bates, I went down to my father: where, by the assistance of him and my +uncle John, and some other relations, I got forty pounds, and a promise +of thirty pounds a year to maintain me at Leyden: there I studied +physic two years and seven months, knowing it would be useful in long +voyages. + +Soon after my return from Leyden, I was recommended by my good master, +Mr. Bates, to be surgeon to the Swallow, Captain Abraham Pannel, +commander; with whom I continued three years and a half, making a +voyage or two into the Levant, and some other parts. When I came back I +resolved to settle in London; to which Mr. Bates, my master, encouraged +me, and by him I was recommended to several patients. I took part of a +small house in the Old Jewry; and being advised to alter my condition, +I married Mrs. Mary Burton, second daughter to Mr. Edmund Burton, +hosier, in Newgate-street, with whom I received four hundred pounds for +a portion. + +But my good master Bates dying in two years after, and I having few +friends, my business began to fail; for my conscience would not suffer +me to imitate the bad practice of too many among my brethren. Having +therefore consulted with my wife, and some of my acquaintance, I +determined to go again to sea. I was surgeon successively in two ships, +and made several voyages, for six years, to the East and West Indies, +by which I got some addition to my fortune. My hours of leisure I spent +in reading the best authors, ancient and modern, being always provided +with a good number of books; and when I was ashore, in observing the +manners and dispositions of the people, as well as learning their +language; wherein I had a great facility, by the strength of my memory. + +The last of these voyages not proving very fortunate, I grew weary of +the sea, and intended to stay at home with my wife and family. I +removed from the Old Jewry to Fetter Lane, and from thence to Wapping, +hoping to get business among the sailors; but it would not turn to +account. After three years expectation that things would mend, I +accepted an advantageous offer from Captain William Prichard, master of +the Antelope, who was making a voyage to the South Sea. We set sail +from Bristol, May 4, 1699, and our voyage was at first very prosperous. + +It would not be proper, for some reasons, to trouble the reader with +the particulars of our adventures in those seas; let it suffice to +inform him, that in our passage from thence to the East Indies, we were +driven by a violent storm to the north-west of Van Diemen’s Land. By an +observation, we found ourselves in the latitude of 30 degrees 2 minutes +south. Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate labour and ill food; +the rest were in a very weak condition. On the 5th of November, which +was the beginning of summer in those parts, the weather being very +hazy, the seamen spied a rock within half a cable’s length of the ship; +but the wind was so strong, that we were driven directly upon it, and +immediately split. Six of the crew, of whom I was one, having let down +the boat into the sea, made a shift to get clear of the ship and the +rock. We rowed, by my computation, about three leagues, till we were +able to work no longer, being already spent with labour while we were +in the ship. We therefore trusted ourselves to the mercy of the waves, +and in about half an hour the boat was overset by a sudden flurry from +the north. What became of my companions in the boat, as well as of +those who escaped on the rock, or were left in the vessel, I cannot +tell; but conclude they were all lost. For my own part, I swam as +fortune directed me, and was pushed forward by wind and tide. I often +let my legs drop, and could feel no bottom; but when I was almost gone, +and able to struggle no longer, I found myself within my depth; and by +this time the storm was much abated. The declivity was so small, that I +walked near a mile before I got to the shore, which I conjectured was +about eight o’clock in the evening. I then advanced forward near half a +mile, but could not discover any sign of houses or inhabitants; at +least I was in so weak a condition, that I did not observe them. I was +extremely tired, and with that, and the heat of the weather, and about +half a pint of brandy that I drank as I left the ship, I found myself +much inclined to sleep. I lay down on the grass, which was very short +and soft, where I slept sounder than ever I remembered to have done in +my life, and, as I reckoned, about nine hours; for when I awaked, it +was just day-light. I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir: for, +as I happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were strongly +fastened on each side to the ground; and my hair, which was long and +thick, tied down in the same manner. I likewise felt several slender +ligatures across my body, from my arm-pits to my thighs. I could only +look upwards; the sun began to grow hot, and the light offended my +eyes. I heard a confused noise about me; but in the posture I lay, +could see nothing except the sky. In a little time I felt something +alive moving on my left leg, which advancing gently forward over my +breast, came almost up to my chin; when, bending my eyes downwards as +much as I could, I perceived it to be a human creature not six inches +high, with a bow and arrow in his hands, and a quiver at his back. In +the mean time, I felt at least forty more of the same kind (as I +conjectured) following the first. I was in the utmost astonishment, and +roared so loud, that they all ran back in a fright; and some of them, +as I was afterwards told, were hurt with the falls they got by leaping +from my sides upon the ground. However, they soon returned, and one of +them, who ventured so far as to get a full sight of my face, lifting up +his hands and eyes by way of admiration, cried out in a shrill but +distinct voice, _Hekinah degul_: the others repeated the same words +several times, but then I knew not what they meant. I lay all this +while, as the reader may believe, in great uneasiness. At length, +struggling to get loose, I had the fortune to break the strings, and +wrench out the pegs that fastened my left arm to the ground; for, by +lifting it up to my face, I discovered the methods they had taken to +bind me, and at the same time with a violent pull, which gave me +excessive pain, I a little loosened the strings that tied down my hair +on the left side, so that I was just able to turn my head about two +inches. But the creatures ran off a second time, before I could seize +them; whereupon there was a great shout in a very shrill accent, and +after it ceased I heard one of them cry aloud _Tolgo phonac_; when in +an instant I felt above a hundred arrows discharged on my left hand, +which, pricked me like so many needles; and besides, they shot another +flight into the air, as we do bombs in Europe, whereof many, I suppose, +fell on my body, (though I felt them not), and some on my face, which I +immediately covered with my left hand. When this shower of arrows was +over, I fell a groaning with grief and pain; and then striving again to +get loose, they discharged another volley larger than the first, and +some of them attempted with spears to stick me in the sides; but by +good luck I had on a buff jerkin, which they could not pierce. I +thought it the most prudent method to lie still, and my design was to +continue so till night, when, my left hand being already loose, I could +easily free myself: and as for the inhabitants, I had reason to believe +I might be a match for the greatest army they could bring against me, +if they were all of the same size with him that I saw. But fortune +disposed otherwise of me. When the people observed I was quiet, they +discharged no more arrows; but, by the noise I heard, I knew their +numbers increased; and about four yards from me, over against my right +ear, I heard a knocking for above an hour, like that of people at work; +when turning my head that way, as well as the pegs and strings would +permit me, I saw a stage erected about a foot and a half from the +ground, capable of holding four of the inhabitants, with two or three +ladders to mount it: from whence one of them, who seemed to be a person +of quality, made me a long speech, whereof I understood not one +syllable. But I should have mentioned, that before the principal person +began his oration, he cried out three times, _Langro dehul san_ (these +words and the former were afterwards repeated and explained to me); +whereupon, immediately, about fifty of the inhabitants came and cut the +strings that fastened the left side of my head, which gave me the +liberty of turning it to the right, and of observing the person and +gesture of him that was to speak. He appeared to be of a middle age, +and taller than any of the other three who attended him, whereof one +was a page that held up his train, and seemed to be somewhat longer +than my middle finger; the other two stood one on each side to support +him. He acted every part of an orator, and I could observe many periods +of threatenings, and others of promises, pity, and kindness. I answered +in a few words, but in the most submissive manner, lifting up my left +hand, and both my eyes to the sun, as calling him for a witness; and +being almost famished with hunger, having not eaten a morsel for some +hours before I left the ship, I found the demands of nature so strong +upon me, that I could not forbear showing my impatience (perhaps +against the strict rules of decency) by putting my finger frequently to +my mouth, to signify that I wanted food. The _hurgo_ (for so they call +a great lord, as I afterwards learnt) understood me very well. He +descended from the stage, and commanded that several ladders should be +applied to my sides, on which above a hundred of the inhabitants +mounted and walked towards my mouth, laden with baskets full of meat, +which had been provided and sent thither by the king’s orders, upon the +first intelligence he received of me. I observed there was the flesh of +several animals, but could not distinguish them by the taste. There +were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those of mutton, and very +well dressed, but smaller than the wings of a lark. I ate them by two +or three at a mouthful, and took three loaves at a time, about the +bigness of musket bullets. They supplied me as fast as they could, +showing a thousand marks of wonder and astonishment at my bulk and +appetite. I then made another sign, that I wanted drink. They found by +my eating that a small quantity would not suffice me; and being a most +ingenious people, they slung up, with great dexterity, one of their +largest hogsheads, then rolled it towards my hand, and beat out the +top; I drank it off at a draught, which I might well do, for it did not +hold half a pint, and tasted like a small wine of Burgundy, but much +more delicious. They brought me a second hogshead, which I drank in the +same manner, and made signs for more; but they had none to give me. +When I had performed these wonders, they shouted for joy, and danced +upon my breast, repeating several times as they did at first, _Hekinah +degul_. They made me a sign that I should throw down the two hogsheads, +but first warning the people below to stand out of the way, crying +aloud, _Borach mevolah_; and when they saw the vessels in the air, +there was a universal shout of _Hekinah degul_. I confess I was often +tempted, while they were passing backwards and forwards on my body, to +seize forty or fifty of the first that came in my reach, and dash them +against the ground. But the remembrance of what I had felt, which +probably might not be the worst they could do, and the promise of +honour I made them—for so I interpreted my submissive behaviour—soon +drove out these imaginations. Besides, I now considered myself as bound +by the laws of hospitality, to a people who had treated me with so much +expense and magnificence. However, in my thoughts I could not +sufficiently wonder at the intrepidity of these diminutive mortals, who +durst venture to mount and walk upon my body, while one of my hands was +at liberty, without trembling at the very sight of so prodigious a +creature as I must appear to them. After some time, when they observed +that I made no more demands for meat, there appeared before me a person +of high rank from his imperial majesty. His excellency, having mounted +on the small of my right leg, advanced forwards up to my face, with +about a dozen of his retinue; and producing his credentials under the +signet royal, which he applied close to my eyes, spoke about ten +minutes without any signs of anger, but with a kind of determinate +resolution, often pointing forwards, which, as I afterwards found, was +towards the capital city, about half a mile distant; whither it was +agreed by his majesty in council that I must be conveyed. I answered in +few words, but to no purpose, and made a sign with my hand that was +loose, putting it to the other (but over his excellency’s head for fear +of hurting him or his train) and then to my own head and body, to +signify that I desired my liberty. It appeared that he understood me +well enough, for he shook his head by way of disapprobation, and held +his hand in a posture to show that I must be carried as a prisoner. +However, he made other signs to let me understand that I should have +meat and drink enough, and very good treatment. Whereupon I once more +thought of attempting to break my bonds; but again, when I felt the +smart of their arrows upon my face and hands, which were all in +blisters, and many of the darts still sticking in them, and observing +likewise that the number of my enemies increased, I gave tokens to let +them know that they might do with me what they pleased. Upon this, the +_hurgo_ and his train withdrew, with much civility and cheerful +countenances. Soon after I heard a general shout, with frequent +repetitions of the words _Peplom selan_; and I felt great numbers of +people on my left side relaxing the cords to such a degree, that I was +able to turn upon my right, and to ease myself with making water; which +I very plentifully did, to the great astonishment of the people; who, +conjecturing by my motion what I was going to do, immediately opened to +the right and left on that side, to avoid the torrent, which fell with +such noise and violence from me. But before this, they had daubed my +face and both my hands with a sort of ointment, very pleasant to the +smell, which, in a few minutes, removed all the smart of their arrows. +These circumstances, added to the refreshment I had received by their +victuals and drink, which were very nourishing, disposed me to sleep. I +slept about eight hours, as I was afterwards assured; and it was no +wonder, for the physicians, by the emperor’s order, had mingled a +sleepy potion in the hogsheads of wine. + +It seems, that upon the first moment I was discovered sleeping on the +ground, after my landing, the emperor had early notice of it by an +express; and determined in council, that I should be tied in the manner +I have related, (which was done in the night while I slept;) that +plenty of meat and drink should be sent to me, and a machine prepared +to carry me to the capital city. + +This resolution perhaps may appear very bold and dangerous, and I am +confident would not be imitated by any prince in Europe on the like +occasion. However, in my opinion, it was extremely prudent, as well as +generous: for, supposing these people had endeavoured to kill me with +their spears and arrows, while I was asleep, I should certainly have +awaked with the first sense of smart, which might so far have roused my +rage and strength, as to have enabled me to break the strings wherewith +I was tied; after which, as they were not able to make resistance, so +they could expect no mercy. + +These people are most excellent mathematicians, and arrived to a great +perfection in mechanics, by the countenance and encouragement of the +emperor, who is a renowned patron of learning. This prince has several +machines fixed on wheels, for the carriage of trees and other great +weights. He often builds his largest men of war, whereof some are nine +feet long, in the woods where the timber grows, and has them carried on +these engines three or four hundred yards to the sea. Five hundred +carpenters and engineers were immediately set at work to prepare the +greatest engine they had. It was a frame of wood raised three inches +from the ground, about seven feet long, and four wide, moving upon +twenty-two wheels. The shout I heard was upon the arrival of this +engine, which, it seems, set out in four hours after my landing. It was +brought parallel to me, as I lay. But the principal difficulty was to +raise and place me in this vehicle. Eighty poles, each of one foot +high, were erected for this purpose, and very strong cords, of the +bigness of packthread, were fastened by hooks to many bandages, which +the workmen had girt round my neck, my hands, my body, and my legs. +Nine hundred of the strongest men were employed to draw up these cords, +by many pulleys fastened on the poles; and thus, in less than three +hours, I was raised and slung into the engine, and there tied fast. All +this I was told; for, while the operation was performing, I lay in a +profound sleep, by the force of that soporiferous medicine infused into +my liquor. Fifteen hundred of the emperor’s largest horses, each about +four inches and a half high, were employed to draw me towards the +metropolis, which, as I said, was half a mile distant. + +About four hours after we began our journey, I awaked by a very +ridiculous accident; for the carriage being stopped a while, to adjust +something that was out of order, two or three of the young natives had +the curiosity to see how I looked when I was asleep; they climbed up +into the engine, and advancing very softly to my face, one of them, an +officer in the guards, put the sharp end of his half-pike a good way up +into my left nostril, which tickled my nose like a straw, and made me +sneeze violently; whereupon they stole off unperceived, and it was +three weeks before I knew the cause of my waking so suddenly. We made a +long march the remaining part of the day, and, rested at night with +five hundred guards on each side of me, half with torches, and half +with bows and arrows, ready to shoot me if I should offer to stir. The +next morning at sunrise we continued our march, and arrived within two +hundred yards of the city gates about noon. The emperor, and all his +court, came out to meet us; but his great officers would by no means +suffer his majesty to endanger his person by mounting on my body. + +At the place where the carriage stopped there stood an ancient temple, +esteemed to be the largest in the whole kingdom; which, having been +polluted some years before by an unnatural murder, was, according to +the zeal of those people, looked upon as profane, and therefore had +been applied to common use, and all the ornaments and furniture carried +away. In this edifice it was determined I should lodge. The great gate +fronting to the north was about four feet high, and almost two feet +wide, through which I could easily creep. On each side of the gate was +a small window, not above six inches from the ground: into that on the +left side, the king’s smith conveyed fourscore and eleven chains, like +those that hang to a lady’s watch in Europe, and almost as large, which +were locked to my left leg with six-and-thirty padlocks. Over against +this temple, on the other side of the great highway, at twenty feet +distance, there was a turret at least five feet high. Here the emperor +ascended, with many principal lords of his court, to have an +opportunity of viewing me, as I was told, for I could not see them. It +was reckoned that above a hundred thousand inhabitants came out of the +town upon the same errand; and, in spite of my guards, I believe there +could not be fewer than ten thousand at several times, who mounted my +body by the help of ladders. But a proclamation was soon issued, to +forbid it upon pain of death. When the workmen found it was impossible +for me to break loose, they cut all the strings that bound me; +whereupon I rose up, with as melancholy a disposition as ever I had in +my life. But the noise and astonishment of the people, at seeing me +rise and walk, are not to be expressed. The chains that held my left +leg were about two yards long, and gave me not only the liberty of +walking backwards and forwards in a semicircle, but, being fixed within +four inches of the gate, allowed me to creep in, and lie at my full +length in the temple. + + +CHAPTER II. + +The emperor of Lilliput, attended by several of the nobility, comes to +see the author in his confinement. The emperor’s person and habit +described. Learned men appointed to teach the author their language. He +gains favour by his mild disposition. His pockets are searched, and his +sword and pistols taken from him. + + +When I found myself on my feet, I looked about me, and must confess I +never beheld a more entertaining prospect. The country around appeared +like a continued garden, and the enclosed fields, which were generally +forty feet square, resembled so many beds of flowers. These fields were +intermingled with woods of half a stang, [301] and the tallest trees, +as I could judge, appeared to be seven feet high. I viewed the town on +my left hand, which looked like the painted scene of a city in a +theatre. + +I had been for some hours extremely pressed by the necessities of +nature; which was no wonder, it being almost two days since I had last +disburdened myself. I was under great difficulties between urgency and +shame. The best expedient I could think of, was to creep into my house, +which I accordingly did; and shutting the gate after me, I went as far +as the length of my chain would suffer, and discharged my body of that +uneasy load. But this was the only time I was ever guilty of so +uncleanly an action; for which I cannot but hope the candid reader will +give some allowance, after he has maturely and impartially considered +my case, and the distress I was in. From this time my constant practice +was, as soon as I rose, to perform that business in open air, at the +full extent of my chain; and due care was taken every morning before +company came, that the offensive matter should be carried off in +wheel-barrows, by two servants appointed for that purpose. I would not +have dwelt so long upon a circumstance that, perhaps, at first sight, +may appear not very momentous, if I had not thought it necessary to +justify my character, in point of cleanliness, to the world; which, I +am told, some of my maligners have been pleased, upon this and other +occasions, to call in question. + +When this adventure was at an end, I came back out of my house, having +occasion for fresh air. The emperor was already descended from the +tower, and advancing on horseback towards me, which had like to have +cost him dear; for the beast, though very well trained, yet wholly +unused to such a sight, which appeared as if a mountain moved before +him, reared up on its hinder feet: but that prince, who is an excellent +horseman, kept his seat, till his attendants ran in, and held the +bridle, while his majesty had time to dismount. When he alighted, he +surveyed me round with great admiration; but kept beyond the length of +my chain. He ordered his cooks and butlers, who were already prepared, +to give me victuals and drink, which they pushed forward in a sort of +vehicles upon wheels, till I could reach them. I took these vehicles +and soon emptied them all; twenty of them were filled with meat, and +ten with liquor; each of the former afforded me two or three good +mouthfuls; and I emptied the liquor of ten vessels, which was contained +in earthen vials, into one vehicle, drinking it off at a draught; and +so I did with the rest. The empress, and young princes of the blood of +both sexes, attended by many ladies, sat at some distance in their +chairs; but upon the accident that happened to the emperor’s horse, +they alighted, and came near his person, which I am now going to +describe. He is taller by almost the breadth of my nail, than any of +his court; which alone is enough to strike an awe into the beholders. +His features are strong and masculine, with an Austrian lip and arched +nose, his complexion olive, his countenance erect, his body and limbs +well proportioned, all his motions graceful, and his deportment +majestic. He was then past his prime, being twenty-eight years and +three quarters old, of which he had reigned about seven in great +felicity, and generally victorious. For the better convenience of +beholding him, I lay on my side, so that my face was parallel to his, +and he stood but three yards off: however, I have had him since many +times in my hand, and therefore cannot be deceived in the description. +His dress was very plain and simple, and the fashion of it between the +Asiatic and the European; but he had on his head a light helmet of +gold, adorned with jewels, and a plume on the crest. He held his sword +drawn in his hand to defend himself, if I should happen to break loose; +it was almost three inches long; the hilt and scabbard were gold +enriched with diamonds. His voice was shrill, but very clear and +articulate; and I could distinctly hear it when I stood up. The ladies +and courtiers were all most magnificently clad; so that the spot they +stood upon seemed to resemble a petticoat spread upon the ground, +embroidered with figures of gold and silver. His imperial majesty spoke +often to me, and I returned answers: but neither of us could understand +a syllable. There were several of his priests and lawyers present (as I +conjectured by their habits), who were commanded to address themselves +to me; and I spoke to them in as many languages as I had the least +smattering of, which were High and Low Dutch, Latin, French, Spanish, +Italian, and Lingua Franca, but all to no purpose. After about two +hours the court retired, and I was left with a strong guard, to prevent +the impertinence, and probably the malice of the rabble, who were very +impatient to crowd about me as near as they durst; and some of them had +the impudence to shoot their arrows at me, as I sat on the ground by +the door of my house, whereof one very narrowly missed my left eye. But +the colonel ordered six of the ringleaders to be seized, and thought no +punishment so proper as to deliver them bound into my hands; which some +of his soldiers accordingly did, pushing them forward with the +butt-ends of their pikes into my reach. I took them all in my right +hand, put five of them into my coat-pocket; and as to the sixth, I made +a countenance as if I would eat him alive. The poor man squalled +terribly, and the colonel and his officers were in much pain, +especially when they saw me take out my penknife: but I soon put them +out of fear; for, looking mildly, and immediately cutting the strings +he was bound with, I set him gently on the ground, and away he ran. I +treated the rest in the same manner, taking them one by one out of my +pocket; and I observed both the soldiers and people were highly +delighted at this mark of my clemency, which was represented very much +to my advantage at court. + +Towards night I got with some difficulty into my house, where I lay on +the ground, and continued to do so about a fortnight; during which +time, the emperor gave orders to have a bed prepared for me. Six +hundred beds of the common measure were brought in carriages, and +worked up in my house; a hundred and fifty of their beds, sewn +together, made up the breadth and length; and these were four double: +which, however, kept me but very indifferently from the hardness of the +floor, that was of smooth stone. By the same computation, they provided +me with sheets, blankets, and coverlets, tolerable enough for one who +had been so long inured to hardships. + +As the news of my arrival spread through the kingdom, it brought +prodigious numbers of rich, idle, and curious people to see me; so that +the villages were almost emptied; and great neglect of tillage and +household affairs must have ensued, if his imperial majesty had not +provided, by several proclamations and orders of state, against this +inconveniency. He directed that those who had already beheld me should +return home, and not presume to come within fifty yards of my house, +without license from the court; whereby the secretaries of state got +considerable fees. + +In the mean time the emperor held frequent councils, to debate what +course should be taken with me; and I was afterwards assured by a +particular friend, a person of great quality, who was as much in the +secret as any, that the court was under many difficulties concerning +me. They apprehended my breaking loose; that my diet would be very +expensive, and might cause a famine. Sometimes they determined to +starve me; or at least to shoot me in the face and hands with poisoned +arrows, which would soon despatch me; but again they considered, that +the stench of so large a carcass might produce a plague in the +metropolis, and probably spread through the whole kingdom. In the midst +of these consultations, several officers of the army went to the door +of the great council-chamber, and two of them being admitted, gave an +account of my behaviour to the six criminals above-mentioned; which +made so favourable an impression in the breast of his majesty and the +whole board, in my behalf, that an imperial commission was issued out, +obliging all the villages, nine hundred yards round the city, to +deliver in every morning six beeves, forty sheep, and other victuals +for my sustenance; together with a proportionable quantity of bread, +and wine, and other liquors; for the due payment of which, his majesty +gave assignments upon his treasury:—for this prince lives chiefly upon +his own demesnes; seldom, except upon great occasions, raising any +subsidies upon his subjects, who are bound to attend him in his wars at +their own expense. An establishment was also made of six hundred +persons to be my domestics, who had board-wages allowed for their +maintenance, and tents built for them very conveniently on each side of +my door. It was likewise ordered, that three hundred tailors should +make me a suit of clothes, after the fashion of the country; that six +of his majesty’s greatest scholars should be employed to instruct me in +their language; and lastly, that the emperor’s horses, and those of the +nobility and troops of guards, should be frequently exercised in my +sight, to accustom themselves to me. All these orders were duly put in +execution; and in about three weeks I made a great progress in learning +their language; during which time the emperor frequently honoured me +with his visits, and was pleased to assist my masters in teaching me. +We began already to converse together in some sort; and the first words +I learnt, were to express my desire “that he would please give me my +liberty;” which I every day repeated on my knees. His answer, as I +could comprehend it, was, “that this must be a work of time, not to be +thought on without the advice of his council, and that first I must +_lumos kelmin pesso desmar lon emposo_;” that is, swear a peace with +him and his kingdom. However, that I should be used with all kindness. +And he advised me to “acquire, by my patience and discreet behaviour, +the good opinion of himself and his subjects.” He desired “I would not +take it ill, if he gave orders to certain proper officers to search me; +for probably I might carry about me several weapons, which must needs +be dangerous things, if they answered the bulk of so prodigious a +person.” I said, “His majesty should be satisfied; for I was ready to +strip myself, and turn up my pockets before him.” This I delivered part +in words, and part in signs. He replied, “that, by the laws of the +kingdom, I must be searched by two of his officers; that he knew this +could not be done without my consent and assistance; and he had so good +an opinion of my generosity and justice, as to trust their persons in +my hands; that whatever they took from me, should be returned when I +left the country, or paid for at the rate which I would set upon them.” +I took up the two officers in my hands, put them first into my +coat-pockets, and then into every other pocket about me, except my two +fobs, and another secret pocket, which I had no mind should be +searched, wherein I had some little necessaries that were of no +consequence to any but myself. In one of my fobs there was a silver +watch, and in the other a small quantity of gold in a purse. These +gentlemen, having pen, ink, and paper, about them, made an exact +inventory of every thing they saw; and when they had done, desired I +would set them down, that they might deliver it to the emperor. This +inventory I afterwards translated into English, and is, word for word, +as follows: + + +“_Imprimis_: In the right coat-pocket of the great man-mountain” (for +so I interpret the words _quinbus flestrin_,) “after the strictest +search, we found only one great piece of coarse-cloth, large enough to +be a foot-cloth for your majesty’s chief room of state. In the left +pocket we saw a huge silver chest, with a cover of the same metal, +which we, the searchers, were not able to lift. We desired it should be +opened, and one of us stepping into it, found himself up to the mid leg +in a sort of dust, some part whereof flying up to our faces set us both +a sneezing for several times together. In his right waistcoat-pocket we +found a prodigious bundle of white thin substances, folded one over +another, about the bigness of three men, tied with a strong cable, and +marked with black figures; which we humbly conceive to be writings, +every letter almost half as large as the palm of our hands. In the left +there was a sort of engine, from the back of which were extended twenty +long poles, resembling the pallisados before your majesty’s court: +wherewith we conjecture the man-mountain combs his head; for we did not +always trouble him with questions, because we found it a great +difficulty to make him understand us. In the large pocket, on the right +side of his middle cover” (so I translate the word _ranfulo_, by which +they meant my breeches,) “we saw a hollow pillar of iron, about the +length of a man, fastened to a strong piece of timber larger than the +pillar; and upon one side of the pillar, were huge pieces of iron +sticking out, cut into strange figures, which we know not what to make +of. In the left pocket, another engine of the same kind. In the smaller +pocket on the right side, were several round flat pieces of white and +red metal, of different bulk; some of the white, which seemed to be +silver, were so large and heavy, that my comrade and I could hardly +lift them. In the left pocket were two black pillars irregularly +shaped: we could not, without difficulty, reach the top of them, as we +stood at the bottom of his pocket. One of them was covered, and seemed +all of a piece: but at the upper end of the other there appeared a +white round substance, about twice the bigness of our heads. Within +each of these was enclosed a prodigious plate of steel; which, by our +orders, we obliged him to show us, because we apprehended they might be +dangerous engines. He took them out of their cases, and told us, that +in his own country his practice was to shave his beard with one of +these, and cut his meat with the other. There were two pockets which we +could not enter: these he called his fobs; they were two large slits +cut into the top of his middle cover, but squeezed close by the +pressure of his belly. Out of the right fob hung a great silver chain, +with a wonderful kind of engine at the bottom. We directed him to draw +out whatever was at the end of that chain; which appeared to be a +globe, half silver, and half of some transparent metal; for, on the +transparent side, we saw certain strange figures circularly drawn, and +thought we could touch them, till we found our fingers stopped by the +lucid substance. He put this engine into our ears, which made an +incessant noise, like that of a water-mill: and we conjecture it is +either some unknown animal, or the god that he worships; but we are +more inclined to the latter opinion, because he assured us, (if we +understood him right, for he expressed himself very imperfectly) that +he seldom did any thing without consulting it. He called it his oracle, +and said, it pointed out the time for every action of his life. From +the left fob he took out a net almost large enough for a fisherman, but +contrived to open and shut like a purse, and served him for the same +use: we found therein several massy pieces of yellow metal, which, if +they be real gold, must be of immense value. + +“Having thus, in obedience to your majesty’s commands, diligently +searched all his pockets, we observed a girdle about his waist made of +the hide of some prodigious animal, from which, on the left side, hung +a sword of the length of five men; and on the right, a bag or pouch +divided into two cells, each cell capable of holding three of your +majesty’s subjects. In one of these cells were several globes, or +balls, of a most ponderous metal, about the bigness of our heads, and +requiring a strong hand to lift them: the other cell contained a heap +of certain black grains, but of no great bulk or weight, for we could +hold above fifty of them in the palms of our hands. + +“This is an exact inventory of what we found about the body of the +man-mountain, who used us with great civility, and due respect to your +majesty’s commission. Signed and sealed on the fourth day of the +eighty-ninth moon of your majesty’s auspicious reign. + + + Clefrin Frelock, Marsi Frelock.” + +When this inventory was read over to the emperor, he directed me, +although in very gentle terms, to deliver up the several particulars. +He first called for my scimitar, which I took out, scabbard and all. In +the mean time he ordered three thousand of his choicest troops (who +then attended him) to surround me at a distance, with their bows and +arrows just ready to discharge; but I did not observe it, for my eyes +were wholly fixed upon his majesty. He then desired me to draw my +scimitar, which, although it had got some rust by the sea water, was, +in most parts, exceeding bright. I did so, and immediately all the +troops gave a shout between terror and surprise; for the sun shone +clear, and the reflection dazzled their eyes, as I waved the scimitar +to and fro in my hand. His majesty, who is a most magnanimous prince, +was less daunted than I could expect: he ordered me to return it into +the scabbard, and cast it on the ground as gently as I could, about six +feet from the end of my chain. The next thing he demanded was one of +the hollow iron pillars; by which he meant my pocket pistols. I drew it +out, and at his desire, as well as I could, expressed to him the use of +it; and charging it only with powder, which, by the closeness of my +pouch, happened to escape wetting in the sea (an inconvenience against +which all prudent mariners take special care to provide,) I first +cautioned the emperor not to be afraid, and then I let it off in the +air. The astonishment here was much greater than at the sight of my +scimitar. Hundreds fell down as if they had been struck dead; and even +the emperor, although he stood his ground, could not recover himself +for some time. I delivered up both my pistols in the same manner as I +had done my scimitar, and then my pouch of powder and bullets; begging +him that the former might be kept from fire, for it would kindle with +the smallest spark, and blow up his imperial palace into the air. I +likewise delivered up my watch, which the emperor was very curious to +see, and commanded two of his tallest yeomen of the guards to bear it +on a pole upon their shoulders, as draymen in England do a barrel of +ale. He was amazed at the continual noise it made, and the motion of +the minute-hand, which he could easily discern; for their sight is much +more acute than ours: he asked the opinions of his learned men about +it, which were various and remote, as the reader may well imagine +without my repeating; although indeed I could not very perfectly +understand them. I then gave up my silver and copper money, my purse, +with nine large pieces of gold, and some smaller ones; my knife and +razor, my comb and silver snuff-box, my handkerchief and journal-book. +My scimitar, pistols, and pouch, were conveyed in carriages to his +majesty’s stores; but the rest of my goods were returned me. + +I had as I before observed, one private pocket, which escaped their +search, wherein there was a pair of spectacles (which I sometimes use +for the weakness of my eyes,) a pocket perspective, and some other +little conveniences; which, being of no consequence to the emperor, I +did not think myself bound in honour to discover, and I apprehended +they might be lost or spoiled if I ventured them out of my possession. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The author diverts the emperor, and his nobility of both sexes, in a +very uncommon manner. The diversions of the court of Lilliput +described. The author has his liberty granted him upon certain +conditions. + + +My gentleness and good behaviour had gained so far on the emperor and +his court, and indeed upon the army and people in general, that I began +to conceive hopes of getting my liberty in a short time. I took all +possible methods to cultivate this favourable disposition. The natives +came, by degrees, to be less apprehensive of any danger from me. I +would sometimes lie down, and let five or six of them dance on my hand; +and at last the boys and girls would venture to come and play at +hide-and-seek in my hair. I had now made a good progress in +understanding and speaking the language. The emperor had a mind one day +to entertain me with several of the country shows, wherein they exceed +all nations I have known, both for dexterity and magnificence. I was +diverted with none so much as that of the rope-dancers, performed upon +a slender white thread, extended about two feet, and twelve inches from +the ground. Upon which I shall desire liberty, with the reader’s +patience, to enlarge a little. + +This diversion is only practised by those persons who are candidates +for great employments, and high favour at court. They are trained in +this art from their youth, and are not always of noble birth, or +liberal education. When a great office is vacant, either by death or +disgrace (which often happens) five or six of those candidates +petition the emperor to entertain his majesty and the court with a +dance on the rope; and whoever jumps the highest, without falling, +succeeds in the office. Very often the chief ministers themselves are +commanded to show their skill, and to convince the emperor that they +have not lost their faculty. Flimnap, the treasurer, is allowed to cut +a caper on the straight rope, at least an inch higher than any other +lord in the whole empire. I have seen him do the summerset several +times together, upon a trencher fixed on a rope which is no thicker +than a common packthread in England. My friend Reldresal, principal +secretary for private affairs, is, in my opinion, if I am not partial, +the second after the treasurer; the rest of the great officers are much +upon a par. + +These diversions are often attended with fatal accidents, whereof great +numbers are on record. I myself have seen two or three candidates break +a limb. But the danger is much greater, when the ministers themselves +are commanded to show their dexterity; for, by contending to excel +themselves and their fellows, they strain so far that there is hardly +one of them who has not received a fall, and some of them two or three. +I was assured that, a year or two before my arrival, Flimnap would +infallibly have broke his neck, if one of the king’s cushions, that +accidentally lay on the ground, had not weakened the force of his fall. + +There is likewise another diversion, which is only shown before the +emperor and empress, and first minister, upon particular occasions. The +emperor lays on the table three fine silken threads of six inches long; +one is blue, the other red, and the third green. These threads are +proposed as prizes for those persons whom the emperor has a mind to +distinguish by a peculiar mark of his favour. The ceremony is performed +in his majesty’s great chamber of state, where the candidates are to +undergo a trial of dexterity very different from the former, and such +as I have not observed the least resemblance of in any other country of +the new or old world. The emperor holds a stick in his hands, both ends +parallel to the horizon, while the candidates advancing, one by one, +sometimes leap over the stick, sometimes creep under it, backward and +forward, several times, according as the stick is advanced or +depressed. Sometimes the emperor holds one end of the stick, and his +first minister the other; sometimes the minister has it entirely to +himself. Whoever performs his part with most agility, and holds out the +longest in leaping and creeping, is rewarded with the blue-coloured +silk; the red is given to the next, and the green to the third, which +they all wear girt twice round about the middle; and you see few great +persons about this court who are not adorned with one of these girdles. + +The horses of the army, and those of the royal stables, having been +daily led before me, were no longer shy, but would come up to my very +feet without starting. The riders would leap them over my hand, as I +held it on the ground; and one of the emperor’s huntsmen, upon a large +courser, took my foot, shoe and all; which was indeed a prodigious +leap. I had the good fortune to divert the emperor one day after a very +extraordinary manner. I desired he would order several sticks of two +feet high, and the thickness of an ordinary cane, to be brought me; +whereupon his majesty commanded the master of his woods to give +directions accordingly; and the next morning six woodmen arrived with +as many carriages, drawn by eight horses to each. I took nine of these +sticks, and fixing them firmly in the ground in a quadrangular figure, +two feet and a half square, I took four other sticks, and tied them +parallel at each corner, about two feet from the ground; then I +fastened my handkerchief to the nine sticks that stood erect; and +extended it on all sides, till it was tight as the top of a drum; and +the four parallel sticks, rising about five inches higher than the +handkerchief, served as ledges on each side. When I had finished my +work, I desired the emperor to let a troop of his best horses +twenty-four in number, come and exercise upon this plain. His majesty +approved of the proposal, and I took them up, one by one, in my hands, +ready mounted and armed, with the proper officers to exercise them. As +soon as they got into order they divided into two parties, performed +mock skirmishes, discharged blunt arrows, drew their swords, fled and +pursued, attacked and retired, and in short discovered the best +military discipline I ever beheld. The parallel sticks secured them and +their horses from falling over the stage; and the emperor was so much +delighted, that he ordered this entertainment to be repeated several +days, and once was pleased to be lifted up and give the word of +command; and with great difficulty persuaded even the empress herself +to let me hold her in her close chair within two yards of the stage, +when she was able to take a full view of the whole performance. It was +my good fortune, that no ill accident happened in these entertainments; +only once a fiery horse, that belonged to one of the captains, pawing +with his hoof, struck a hole in my handkerchief, and his foot slipping, +he overthrew his rider and himself; but I immediately relieved them +both, and covering the hole with one hand, I set down the troop with +the other, in the same manner as I took them up. The horse that fell +was strained in the left shoulder, but the rider got no hurt; and I +repaired my handkerchief as well as I could: however, I would not trust +to the strength of it any more, in such dangerous enterprises. + +About two or three days before I was set at liberty, as I was +entertaining the court with this kind of feat, there arrived an express +to inform his majesty, that some of his subjects, riding near the place +where I was first taken up, had seen a great black substance lying on +the ground, very oddly shaped, extending its edges round, as wide as +his majesty’s bedchamber, and rising up in the middle as high as a man; +that it was no living creature, as they at first apprehended, for it +lay on the grass without motion; and some of them had walked round it +several times; that, by mounting upon each other’s shoulders, they had +got to the top, which was flat and even, and, stamping upon it, they +found that it was hollow within; that they humbly conceived it might be +something belonging to the man-mountain; and if his majesty pleased, +they would undertake to bring it with only five horses. I presently +knew what they meant, and was glad at heart to receive this +intelligence. It seems, upon my first reaching the shore after our +shipwreck, I was in such confusion, that before I came to the place +where I went to sleep, my hat, which I had fastened with a string to my +head while I was rowing, and had stuck on all the time I was swimming, +fell off after I came to land; the string, as I conjecture, breaking by +some accident, which I never observed, but thought my hat had been lost +at sea. I entreated his imperial majesty to give orders it might be +brought to me as soon as possible, describing to him the use and the +nature of it: and the next day the waggoners arrived with it, but not +in a very good condition; they had bored two holes in the brim, within +an inch and half of the edge, and fastened two hooks in the holes; +these hooks were tied by a long cord to the harness, and thus my hat +was dragged along for above half an English mile; but, the ground in +that country being extremely smooth and level, it received less damage +than I expected. + +Two days after this adventure, the emperor, having ordered that part of +his army which quarters in and about his metropolis, to be in +readiness, took a fancy of diverting himself in a very singular manner. +He desired I would stand like a Colossus, with my legs as far asunder +as I conveniently could. He then commanded his general (who was an old +experienced leader, and a great patron of mine) to draw up the troops +in close order, and march them under me; the foot by twenty-four +abreast, and the horse by sixteen, with drums beating, colours flying, +and pikes advanced. This body consisted of three thousand foot, and a +thousand horse. His majesty gave orders, upon pain of death, that every +soldier in his march should observe the strictest decency with regard +to my person; which however could not prevent some of the younger +officers from turning up their eyes as they passed under me: and, to +confess the truth, my breeches were at that time in so ill a condition, +that they afforded some opportunities for laughter and admiration. + +I had sent so many memorials and petitions for my liberty, that his +majesty at length mentioned the matter, first in the cabinet, and then +in a full council; where it was opposed by none, except Skyresh +Bolgolam, who was pleased, without any provocation, to be my mortal +enemy. But it was carried against him by the whole board, and confirmed +by the emperor. That minister was _galbet_, or admiral of the realm, +very much in his master’s confidence, and a person well versed in +affairs, but of a morose and sour complexion. However, he was at length +persuaded to comply; but prevailed that the articles and conditions +upon which I should be set free, and to which I must swear, should be +drawn up by himself. These articles were brought to me by Skyresh +Bolgolam in person attended by two under-secretaries, and several +persons of distinction. After they were read, I was demanded to swear +to the performance of them; first in the manner of my own country, and +afterwards in the method prescribed by their laws; which was, to hold +my right foot in my left hand, and to place the middle finger of my +right hand on the crown of my head, and my thumb on the tip of my right +ear. But because the reader may be curious to have some idea of the +style and manner of expression peculiar to that people, as well as to +know the article upon which I recovered my liberty, I have made a +translation of the whole instrument, word for word, as near as I was +able, which I here offer to the public. + + +“Golbasto Momarem Evlame Gurdilo Shefin Mully Ully Gue, most mighty +Emperor of Lilliput, delight and terror of the universe, whose +dominions extend five thousand _blustrugs_ (about twelve miles in +circumference) to the extremities of the globe; monarch of all +monarchs, taller than the sons of men; whose feet press down to the +centre, and whose head strikes against the sun; at whose nod the +princes of the earth shake their knees; pleasant as the spring, +comfortable as the summer, fruitful as autumn, dreadful as winter: his +most sublime majesty proposes to the man-mountain, lately arrived at +our celestial dominions, the following articles, which, by a solemn +oath, he shall be obliged to perform:— + +“1st, The man-mountain shall not depart from our dominions, without our +license under our great seal. + +“2d, He shall not presume to come into our metropolis, without our +express order; at which time, the inhabitants shall have two hours +warning to keep within doors. + +“3d, The said man-mountain shall confine his walks to our principal +high roads, and not offer to walk, or lie down, in a meadow or field of +corn. + +“4th, As he walks the said roads, he shall take the utmost care not to +trample upon the bodies of any of our loving subjects, their horses, or +carriages, nor take any of our subjects into his hands without their +own consent. + +“5th, If an express requires extraordinary despatch, the man-mountain +shall be obliged to carry, in his pocket, the messenger and horse a six +days journey, once in every moon, and return the said messenger back +(if so required) safe to our imperial presence. + +“6th, He shall be our ally against our enemies in the island of +Blefuscu, and do his utmost to destroy their fleet, which is now +preparing to invade us. + +“7th, That the said man-mountain shall, at his times of leisure, be +aiding and assisting to our workmen, in helping to raise certain great +stones, towards covering the wall of the principal park, and other our +royal buildings. + +“8th, That the said man-mountain shall, in two moons’ time, deliver in +an exact survey of the circumference of our dominions, by a computation +of his own paces round the coast. + +“Lastly, That, upon his solemn oath to observe all the above articles, +the said man-mountain shall have a daily allowance of meat and drink +sufficient for the support of 1724 of our subjects, with free access to +our royal person, and other marks of our favour. Given at our palace at +Belfaborac, the twelfth day of the ninety-first moon of our reign.” + + +I swore and subscribed to these articles with great cheerfulness and +content, although some of them were not so honourable as I could have +wished; which proceeded wholly from the malice of Skyresh Bolgolam, the +high-admiral: whereupon my chains were immediately unlocked, and I was +at full liberty. The emperor himself, in person, did me the honour to +be by at the whole ceremony. I made my acknowledgements by prostrating +myself at his majesty’s feet: but he commanded me to rise; and after +many gracious expressions, which, to avoid the censure of vanity, I +shall not repeat, he added, “that he hoped I should prove a useful +servant, and well deserve all the favours he had already conferred upon +me, or might do for the future.” + +The reader may please to observe, that, in the last article of the +recovery of my liberty, the emperor stipulates to allow me a quantity +of meat and drink sufficient for the support of 1724 Lilliputians. Some +time after, asking a friend at court how they came to fix on that +determinate number, he told me that his majesty’s mathematicians, +having taken the height of my body by the help of a quadrant, and +finding it to exceed theirs in the proportion of twelve to one, they +concluded from the similarity of their bodies, that mine must contain +at least 1724 of theirs, and consequently would require as much food as +was necessary to support that number of Lilliputians. By which the +reader may conceive an idea of the ingenuity of that people, as well as +the prudent and exact economy of so great a prince. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Mildendo, the metropolis of Lilliput, described, together with the +emperor’s palace. A conversation between the author and a principal +secretary, concerning the affairs of that empire. The author’s offers +to serve the emperor in his wars. + + +The first request I made, after I had obtained my liberty, was, that I +might have license to see Mildendo, the metropolis; which the emperor +easily granted me, but with a special charge to do no hurt either to +the inhabitants or their houses. The people had notice, by +proclamation, of my design to visit the town. The wall which +encompassed it is two feet and a half high, and at least eleven inches +broad, so that a coach and horses may be driven very safely round it; +and it is flanked with strong towers at ten feet distance. I stepped +over the great western gate, and passed very gently, and sidling, +through the two principal streets, only in my short waistcoat, for fear +of damaging the roofs and eaves of the houses with the skirts of my +coat. I walked with the utmost circumspection, to avoid treading on any +stragglers who might remain in the streets, although the orders were +very strict, that all people should keep in their houses, at their own +peril. The garret windows and tops of houses were so crowded with +spectators, that I thought in all my travels I had not seen a more +populous place. The city is an exact square, each side of the wall +being five hundred feet long. The two great streets, which run across +and divide it into four quarters, are five feet wide. The lanes and +alleys, which I could not enter, but only view them as I passed, are +from twelve to eighteen inches. The town is capable of holding five +hundred thousand souls: the houses are from three to five stories: the +shops and markets well provided. + +The emperor’s palace is in the centre of the city where the two great +streets meet. It is enclosed by a wall of two feet high, and twenty +feet distance from the buildings. I had his majesty’s permission to +step over this wall; and, the space being so wide between that and the +palace, I could easily view it on every side. The outward court is a +square of forty feet, and includes two other courts: in the inmost are +the royal apartments, which I was very desirous to see, but found it +extremely difficult; for the great gates, from one square into another, +were but eighteen inches high, and seven inches wide. Now the buildings +of the outer court were at least five feet high, and it was impossible +for me to stride over them without infinite damage to the pile, though +the walls were strongly built of hewn stone, and four inches thick. At +the same time the emperor had a great desire that I should see the +magnificence of his palace; but this I was not able to do till three +days after, which I spent in cutting down with my knife some of the +largest trees in the royal park, about a hundred yards distant from the +city. Of these trees I made two stools, each about three feet high, and +strong enough to bear my weight. The people having received notice a +second time, I went again through the city to the palace with my two +stools in my hands. When I came to the side of the outer court, I stood +upon one stool, and took the other in my hand; this I lifted over the +roof, and gently set it down on the space between the first and second +court, which was eight feet wide. I then stept over the building very +conveniently from one stool to the other, and drew up the first after +me with a hooked stick. By this contrivance I got into the inmost +court; and, lying down upon my side, I applied my face to the windows +of the middle stories, which were left open on purpose, and discovered +the most splendid apartments that can be imagined. There I saw the +empress and the young princes, in their several lodgings, with their +chief attendants about them. Her imperial majesty was pleased to smile +very graciously upon me, and gave me out of the window her hand to +kiss. + +But I shall not anticipate the reader with further descriptions of this +kind, because I reserve them for a greater work, which is now almost +ready for the press; containing a general description of this empire, +from its first erection, through a long series of princes; with a +particular account of their wars and politics, laws, learning, and +religion; their plants and animals; their peculiar manners and customs, +with other matters very curious and useful; my chief design at present +being only to relate such events and transactions as happened to the +public or to myself during a residence of about nine months in that +empire. + +One morning, about a fortnight after I had obtained my liberty, +Reldresal, principal secretary (as they style him) for private affairs, +came to my house attended only by one servant. He ordered his coach to +wait at a distance, and desired I would give him an hour’s audience; +which I readily consented to, on account of his quality and personal +merits, as well as of the many good offices he had done me during my +solicitations at court. I offered to lie down that he might the more +conveniently reach my ear, but he chose rather to let me hold him in my +hand during our conversation. He began with compliments on my liberty; +said “he might pretend to some merit in it;” but, however, added, “that +if it had not been for the present situation of things at court, +perhaps I might not have obtained it so soon. For,” said he, “as +flourishing a condition as we may appear to be in to foreigners, we +labour under two mighty evils: a violent faction at home, and the +danger of an invasion, by a most potent enemy, from abroad. As to the +first, you are to understand, that for about seventy moons past there +have been two struggling parties in this empire, under the names of +_Tramecksan_ and _Slamecksan_, from the high and low heels of their +shoes, by which they distinguish themselves. It is alleged, indeed, +that the high heels are most agreeable to our ancient constitution; +but, however this be, his majesty has determined to make use only of +low heels in the administration of the government, and all offices in +the gift of the crown, as you cannot but observe; and particularly that +his majesty’s imperial heels are lower at least by a _drurr_ than any +of his court (_drurr_ is a measure about the fourteenth part of an +inch). The animosities between these two parties run so high, that they +will neither eat, nor drink, nor talk with each other. We compute the +_Tramecksan_, or high heels, to exceed us in number; but the power is +wholly on our side. We apprehend his imperial highness, the heir to the +crown, to have some tendency towards the high heels; at least we can +plainly discover that one of his heels is higher than the other, which +gives him a hobble in his gait. Now, in the midst of these intestine +disquiets, we are threatened with an invasion from the island of +Blefuscu, which is the other great empire of the universe, almost as +large and powerful as this of his majesty. For as to what we have heard +you affirm, that there are other kingdoms and states in the world +inhabited by human creatures as large as yourself, our philosophers are +in much doubt, and would rather conjecture that you dropped from the +moon, or one of the stars; because it is certain, that a hundred +mortals of your bulk would in a short time destroy all the fruits and +cattle of his majesty’s dominions: besides, our histories of six +thousand moons make no mention of any other regions than the two great +empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Which two mighty powers have, as I +was going to tell you, been engaged in a most obstinate war for +six-and-thirty moons past. It began upon the following occasion. It is +allowed on all hands, that the primitive way of breaking eggs, before +we eat them, was upon the larger end; but his present majesty’s +grandfather, while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and breaking it +according to the ancient practice, happened to cut one of his fingers. +Whereupon the emperor his father published an edict, commanding all his +subjects, upon great penalties, to break the smaller end of their eggs. +The people so highly resented this law, that our histories tell us, +there have been six rebellions raised on that account; wherein one +emperor lost his life, and another his crown. These civil commotions +were constantly fomented by the monarchs of Blefuscu; and when they +were quelled, the exiles always fled for refuge to that empire. It is +computed that eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered +death, rather than submit to break their eggs at the smaller end. Many +hundred large volumes have been published upon this controversy: but +the books of the Big-endians have been long forbidden, and the whole +party rendered incapable by law of holding employments. During the +course of these troubles, the emperors of Blefuscu did frequently +expostulate by their ambassadors, accusing us of making a schism in +religion, by offending against a fundamental doctrine of our great +prophet Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth chapter of the Blundecral (which +is their Alcoran). This, however, is thought to be a mere strain upon +the text; for the words are these: ‘that all true believers break their +eggs at the convenient end.’ And which is the convenient end, seems, in +my humble opinion to be left to every man’s conscience, or at least in +the power of the chief magistrate to determine. Now, the Big-endian +exiles have found so much credit in the emperor of Blefuscu’s court, +and so much private assistance and encouragement from their party here +at home, that a bloody war has been carried on between the two empires +for six-and-thirty moons, with various success; during which time we +have lost forty capital ships, and a much greater number of smaller +vessels, together with thirty thousand of our best seamen and soldiers; +and the damage received by the enemy is reckoned to be somewhat greater +than ours. However, they have now equipped a numerous fleet, and are +just preparing to make a descent upon us; and his imperial majesty, +placing great confidence in your valour and strength, has commanded me +to lay this account of his affairs before you.” + +I desired the secretary to present my humble duty to the emperor; and +to let him know, “that I thought it would not become me, who was a +foreigner, to interfere with parties; but I was ready, with the hazard +of my life, to defend his person and state against all invaders.” + + +CHAPTER V. + +The author, by an extraordinary stratagem, prevents an invasion. A high +title of honour is conferred upon him. Ambassadors arrive from the +emperor of Blefuscu, and sue for peace. The empress’s apartment on fire +by an accident; the author instrumental in saving the rest of the +palace. + + +The empire of Blefuscu is an island situated to the north-east of +Lilliput, from which it is parted only by a channel of eight hundred +yards wide. I had not yet seen it, and upon this notice of an intended +invasion, I avoided appearing on that side of the coast, for fear of +being discovered, by some of the enemy’s ships, who had received no +intelligence of me; all intercourse between the two empires having been +strictly forbidden during the war, upon pain of death, and an embargo +laid by our emperor upon all vessels whatsoever. I communicated to his +majesty a project I had formed of seizing the enemy’s whole fleet; +which, as our scouts assured us, lay at anchor in the harbour, ready to +sail with the first fair wind. I consulted the most experienced seamen +upon the depth of the channel, which they had often plumbed; who told +me, that in the middle, at high-water, it was seventy _glumgluffs_ +deep, which is about six feet of European measure; and the rest of it +fifty _glumgluffs_ at most. I walked towards the north-east coast, over +against Blefuscu, where, lying down behind a hillock, I took out my +small perspective glass, and viewed the enemy’s fleet at anchor, +consisting of about fifty men of war, and a great number of transports: +I then came back to my house, and gave orders (for which I had a +warrant) for a great quantity of the strongest cable and bars of iron. +The cable was about as thick as packthread and the bars of the length +and size of a knitting-needle. I trebled the cable to make it stronger, +and for the same reason I twisted three of the iron bars together, +bending the extremities into a hook. Having thus fixed fifty hooks to +as many cables, I went back to the north-east coast, and putting off my +coat, shoes, and stockings, walked into the sea, in my leathern jerkin, +about half an hour before high water. I waded with what haste I could, +and swam in the middle about thirty yards, till I felt ground. I +arrived at the fleet in less than half an hour. The enemy was so +frightened when they saw me, that they leaped out of their ships, and +swam to shore, where there could not be fewer than thirty thousand +souls. I then took my tackling, and, fastening a hook to the hole at +the prow of each, I tied all the cords together at the end. While I was +thus employed, the enemy discharged several thousand arrows, many of +which stuck in my hands and face, and, beside the excessive smart, gave +me much disturbance in my work. My greatest apprehension was for my +eyes, which I should have infallibly lost, if I had not suddenly +thought of an expedient. I kept, among other little necessaries, a pair +of spectacles in a private pocket, which, as I observed before, had +escaped the emperor’s searchers. These I took out and fastened as +strongly as I could upon my nose, and thus armed, went on boldly with +my work, in spite of the enemy’s arrows, many of which struck against +the glasses of my spectacles, but without any other effect, further +than a little to discompose them. I had now fastened all the hooks, +and, taking the knot in my hand, began to pull; but not a ship would +stir, for they were all too fast held by their anchors, so that the +boldest part of my enterprise remained. I therefore let go the cord, +and leaving the hooks fixed to the ships, I resolutely cut with my +knife the cables that fastened the anchors, receiving about two hundred +shots in my face and hands; then I took up the knotted end of the +cables, to which my hooks were tied, and with great ease drew fifty of +the enemy’s largest men of war after me. + +The Blefuscudians, who had not the least imagination of what I +intended, were at first confounded with astonishment. They had seen me +cut the cables, and thought my design was only to let the ships run +adrift or fall foul on each other: but when they perceived the whole +fleet moving in order, and saw me pulling at the end, they set up such +a scream of grief and despair as it is almost impossible to describe or +conceive. When I had got out of danger, I stopped awhile to pick out +the arrows that stuck in my hands and face; and rubbed on some of the +same ointment that was given me at my first arrival, as I have formerly +mentioned. I then took off my spectacles, and waiting about an hour, +till the tide was a little fallen, I waded through the middle with my +cargo, and arrived safe at the royal port of Lilliput. + +The emperor and his whole court stood on the shore, expecting the issue +of this great adventure. They saw the ships move forward in a large +half-moon, but could not discern me, who was up to my breast in water. +When I advanced to the middle of the channel, they were yet more in +pain, because I was under water to my neck. The emperor concluded me to +be drowned, and that the enemy’s fleet was approaching in a hostile +manner: but he was soon eased of his fears; for the channel growing +shallower every step I made, I came in a short time within hearing, and +holding up the end of the cable, by which the fleet was fastened, I +cried in a loud voice, “Long live the most puissant king of Lilliput!” +This great prince received me at my landing with all possible +encomiums, and created me a _nardac_ upon the spot, which is the +highest title of honour among them. + +His majesty desired I would take some other opportunity of bringing all +the rest of his enemy’s ships into his ports. And so unmeasureable is +the ambition of princes, that he seemed to think of nothing less than +reducing the whole empire of Blefuscu into a province, and governing +it, by a viceroy; of destroying the Big-endian exiles, and compelling +that people to break the smaller end of their eggs, by which he would +remain the sole monarch of the whole world. But I endeavoured to divert +him from this design, by many arguments drawn from the topics of policy +as well as justice; and I plainly protested, “that I would never be an +instrument of bringing a free and brave people into slavery.” And, when +the matter was debated in council, the wisest part of the ministry were +of my opinion. + +This open bold declaration of mine was so opposite to the schemes and +politics of his imperial majesty, that he could never forgive me. He +mentioned it in a very artful manner at council, where I was told that +some of the wisest appeared, at least by their silence, to be of my +opinion; but others, who were my secret enemies, could not forbear some +expressions which, by a side-wind, reflected on me. And from this time +began an intrigue between his majesty and a junto of ministers, +maliciously bent against me, which broke out in less than two months, +and had like to have ended in my utter destruction. Of so little weight +are the greatest services to princes, when put into the balance with a +refusal to gratify their passions. + +About three weeks after this exploit, there arrived a solemn embassy +from Blefuscu, with humble offers of a peace, which was soon concluded, +upon conditions very advantageous to our emperor, wherewith I shall not +trouble the reader. There were six ambassadors, with a train of about +five hundred persons, and their entry was very magnificent, suitable to +the grandeur of their master, and the importance of their business. +When their treaty was finished, wherein I did them several good offices +by the credit I now had, or at least appeared to have, at court, their +excellencies, who were privately told how much I had been their friend, +made me a visit in form. They began with many compliments upon my +valour and generosity, invited me to that kingdom in the emperor their +master’s name, and desired me to show them some proofs of my prodigious +strength, of which they had heard so many wonders; wherein I readily +obliged them, but shall not trouble the reader with the particulars. + +When I had for some time entertained their excellencies, to their +infinite satisfaction and surprise, I desired they would do me the +honour to present my most humble respects to the emperor their master, +the renown of whose virtues had so justly filled the whole world with +admiration, and whose royal person I resolved to attend, before I +returned to my own country. Accordingly, the next time I had the honour +to see our emperor, I desired his general license to wait on the +Blefuscudian monarch, which he was pleased to grant me, as I could +perceive, in a very cold manner; but could not guess the reason, till I +had a whisper from a certain person, “that Flimnap and Bolgolam had +represented my intercourse with those ambassadors as a mark of +disaffection;” from which I am sure my heart was wholly free. And this +was the first time I began to conceive some imperfect idea of courts +and ministers. + +It is to be observed, that these ambassadors spoke to me, by an +interpreter, the languages of both empires differing as much from each +other as any two in Europe, and each nation priding itself upon the +antiquity, beauty, and energy of their own tongue, with an avowed +contempt for that of their neighbour; yet our emperor, standing upon +the advantage he had got by the seizure of their fleet, obliged them to +deliver their credentials, and make their speech, in the Lilliputian +tongue. And it must be confessed, that from the great intercourse of +trade and commerce between both realms, from the continual reception of +exiles which is mutual among them, and from the custom, in each empire, +to send their young nobility and richer gentry to the other, in order +to polish themselves by seeing the world, and understanding men and +manners; there are few persons of distinction, or merchants, or seamen, +who dwell in the maritime parts, but what can hold conversation in both +tongues; as I found some weeks after, when I went to pay my respects to +the emperor of Blefuscu, which, in the midst of great misfortunes, +through the malice of my enemies, proved a very happy adventure to me, +as I shall relate in its proper place. + +The reader may remember, that when I signed those articles upon which I +recovered my liberty, there were some which I disliked, upon account of +their being too servile; neither could anything but an extreme +necessity have forced me to submit. But being now a _nardac_ of the +highest rank in that empire, such offices were looked upon as below my +dignity, and the emperor (to do him justice), never once mentioned them +to me. However, it was not long before I had an opportunity of doing +his majesty, at least as I then thought, a most signal service. I was +alarmed at midnight with the cries of many hundred people at my door; +by which, being suddenly awaked, I was in some kind of terror. I heard +the word _Burglum_ repeated incessantly: several of the emperor’s +court, making their way through the crowd, entreated me to come +immediately to the palace, where her imperial majesty’s apartment was +on fire, by the carelessness of a maid of honour, who fell asleep while +she was reading a romance. I got up in an instant; and orders being +given to clear the way before me, and it being likewise a moonshine +night, I made a shift to get to the palace without trampling on any of +the people. I found they had already applied ladders to the walls of +the apartment, and were well provided with buckets, but the water was +at some distance. These buckets were about the size of large thimbles, +and the poor people supplied me with them as fast as they could: but +the flame was so violent that they did little good. I might easily have +stifled it with my coat, which I unfortunately left behind me for +haste, and came away only in my leathern jerkin. The case seemed wholly +desperate and deplorable; and this magnificent palace would have +infallibly been burnt down to the ground, if, by a presence of mind +unusual to me, I had not suddenly thought of an expedient. I had, the +evening before, drunk plentifully of a most delicious wine called +_glimigrim_, (the Blefuscudians call it _flunec_, but ours is esteemed +the better sort,) which is very diuretic. By the luckiest chance in the +world, I had not discharged myself of any part of it. The heat I had +contracted by coming very near the flames, and by labouring to quench +them, made the wine begin to operate by urine; which I voided in such a +quantity, and applied so well to the proper places, that in three +minutes the fire was wholly extinguished, and the rest of that noble +pile, which had cost so many ages in erecting, preserved from +destruction. + +It was now day-light, and I returned to my house without waiting to +congratulate with the emperor: because, although I had done a very +eminent piece of service, yet I could not tell how his majesty might +resent the manner by which I had performed it: for, by the fundamental +laws of the realm, it is capital in any person, of what quality soever, +to make water within the precincts of the palace. But I was a little +comforted by a message from his majesty, “that he would give orders to +the grand justiciary for passing my pardon in form:” which, however, I +could not obtain; and I was privately assured, “that the empress, +conceiving the greatest abhorrence of what I had done, removed to the +most distant side of the court, firmly resolved that those buildings +should never be repaired for her use: and, in the presence of her chief +confidents could not forbear vowing revenge.” + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Of the inhabitants of Lilliput; their learning, laws, and customs; the +manner of educating their children. The author’s way of living in that +country. His vindication of a great lady. + + +Although I intend to leave the description of this empire to a +particular treatise, yet, in the mean time, I am content to gratify the +curious reader with some general ideas. As the common size of the +natives is somewhat under six inches high, so there is an exact +proportion in all other animals, as well as plants and trees: for +instance, the tallest horses and oxen are between four and five inches +in height, the sheep an inch and half, more or less: their geese about +the bigness of a sparrow, and so the several gradations downwards till +you come to the smallest, which to my sight, were almost invisible; but +nature has adapted the eyes of the Lilliputians to all objects proper +for their view: they see with great exactness, but at no great +distance. And, to show the sharpness of their sight towards objects +that are near, I have been much pleased with observing a cook pulling a +lark, which was not so large as a common fly; and a young girl +threading an invisible needle with invisible silk. Their tallest trees +are about seven feet high: I mean some of those in the great royal +park, the tops whereof I could but just reach with my fist clenched. +The other vegetables are in the same proportion; but this I leave to +the reader’s imagination. + +I shall say but little at present of their learning, which, for many +ages, has flourished in all its branches among them: but their manner +of writing is very peculiar, being neither from the left to the right, +like the Europeans, nor from the right to the left, like the Arabians, +nor from up to down, like the Chinese, but aslant, from one corner of +the paper to the other, like ladies in England. + +They bury their dead with their heads directly downward, because they +hold an opinion, that in eleven thousand moons they are all to rise +again; in which period the earth (which they conceive to be flat) will +turn upside down, and by this means they shall, at their resurrection, +be found ready standing on their feet. The learned among them confess +the absurdity of this doctrine; but the practice still continues, in +compliance to the vulgar. + +There are some laws and customs in this empire very peculiar; and if +they were not so directly contrary to those of my own dear country, I +should be tempted to say a little in their justification. It is only to +be wished they were as well executed. The first I shall mention, +relates to informers. All crimes against the state, are punished here +with the utmost severity; but, if the person accused makes his +innocence plainly to appear upon his trial, the accuser is immediately +put to an ignominious death; and out of his goods or lands the innocent +person is quadruply recompensed for the loss of his time, for the +danger he underwent, for the hardship of his imprisonment, and for all +the charges he has been at in making his defence; or, if that fund be +deficient, it is largely supplied by the crown. The emperor also +confers on him some public mark of his favour, and proclamation is made +of his innocence through the whole city. + +They look upon fraud as a greater crime than theft, and therefore +seldom fail to punish it with death; for they allege, that care and +vigilance, with a very common understanding, may preserve a man’s goods +from thieves, but honesty has no defence against superior cunning; and, +since it is necessary that there should be a perpetual intercourse of +buying and selling, and dealing upon credit, where fraud is permitted +and connived at, or has no law to punish it, the honest dealer is +always undone, and the knave gets the advantage. I remember, when I was +once interceding with the emperor for a criminal who had wronged his +master of a great sum of money, which he had received by order and ran +away with; and happening to tell his majesty, by way of extenuation, +that it was only a breach of trust, the emperor thought it monstrous in +me to offer as a defence the greatest aggravation of the crime; and +truly I had little to say in return, farther than the common answer, +that different nations had different customs; for, I confess, I was +heartily ashamed. [330] + +Although we usually call reward and punishment the two hinges upon +which all government turns, yet I could never observe this maxim to be +put in practice by any nation except that of Lilliput. Whoever can +there bring sufficient proof, that he has strictly observed the laws of +his country for seventy-three moons, has a claim to certain privileges, +according to his quality or condition of life, with a proportionable +sum of money out of a fund appropriated for that use: he likewise +acquires the title of _snilpall_, or legal, which is added to his name, +but does not descend to his posterity. And these people thought it a +prodigious defect of policy among us, when I told them that our laws +were enforced only by penalties, without any mention of reward. It is +upon this account that the image of Justice, in their courts of +judicature, is formed with six eyes, two before, as many behind, and on +each side one, to signify circumspection; with a bag of gold open in +her right hand, and a sword sheathed in her left, to show she is more +disposed to reward than to punish. + +In choosing persons for all employments, they have more regard to good +morals than to great abilities; for, since government is necessary to +mankind, they believe, that the common size of human understanding is +fitted to some station or other; and that Providence never intended to +make the management of public affairs a mystery to be comprehended only +by a few persons of sublime genius, of which there seldom are three +born in an age: but they suppose truth, justice, temperance, and the +like, to be in every man’s power; the practice of which virtues, +assisted by experience and a good intention, would qualify any man for +the service of his country, except where a course of study is required. +But they thought the want of moral virtues was so far from being +supplied by superior endowments of the mind, that employments could +never be put into such dangerous hands as those of persons so +qualified; and, at least, that the mistakes committed by ignorance, in +a virtuous disposition, would never be of such fatal consequence to the +public weal, as the practices of a man, whose inclinations led him to +be corrupt, and who had great abilities to manage, to multiply, and +defend his corruptions. + +In like manner, the disbelief of a Divine Providence renders a man +incapable of holding any public station; for, since kings avow +themselves to be the deputies of Providence, the Lilliputians think +nothing can be more absurd than for a prince to employ such men as +disown the authority under which he acts. + +In relating these and the following laws, I would only be understood to +mean the original institutions, and not the most scandalous +corruptions, into which these people are fallen by the degenerate +nature of man. For, as to that infamous practice of acquiring great +employments by dancing on the ropes, or badges of favour and +distinction by leaping over sticks and creeping under them, the reader +is to observe, that they were first introduced by the grandfather of +the emperor now reigning, and grew to the present height by the gradual +increase of party and faction. + +Ingratitude is among them a capital crime, as we read it to have been +in some other countries: for they reason thus; that whoever makes ill +returns to his benefactor, must needs be a common enemy to the rest of +mankind, from whom he has received no obligation, and therefore such a +man is not fit to live. + +Their notions relating to the duties of parents and children differ +extremely from ours. For, since the conjunction of male and female is +founded upon the great law of nature, in order to propagate and +continue the species, the Lilliputians will needs have it, that men and +women are joined together, like other animals, by the motives of +concupiscence; and that their tenderness towards their young proceeds +from the like natural principle: for which reason they will never allow +that a child is under any obligation to his father for begetting him, +or to his mother for bringing him into the world; which, considering +the miseries of human life, was neither a benefit in itself, nor +intended so by his parents, whose thoughts, in their love encounters, +were otherwise employed. Upon these, and the like reasonings, their +opinion is, that parents are the last of all others to be trusted with +the education of their own children; and therefore they have in every +town public nurseries, where all parents, except cottagers and +labourers, are obliged to send their infants of both sexes to be reared +and educated, when they come to the age of twenty moons, at which time +they are supposed to have some rudiments of docility. These schools are +of several kinds, suited to different qualities, and both sexes. They +have certain professors well skilled in preparing children for such a +condition of life as befits the rank of their parents, and their own +capacities, as well as inclinations. I shall first say something of the +male nurseries, and then of the female. + +The nurseries for males of noble or eminent birth, are provided with +grave and learned professors, and their several deputies. The clothes +and food of the children are plain and simple. They are bred up in the +principles of honour, justice, courage, modesty, clemency, religion, +and love of their country; they are always employed in some business, +except in the times of eating and sleeping, which are very short, and +two hours for diversions consisting of bodily exercises. They are +dressed by men till four years of age, and then are obliged to dress +themselves, although their quality be ever so great; and the women +attendant, who are aged proportionably to ours at fifty, perform only +the most menial offices. They are never suffered to converse with +servants, but go together in smaller or greater numbers to take their +diversions, and always in the presence of a professor, or one of his +deputies; whereby they avoid those early bad impressions of folly and +vice, to which our children are subject. Their parents are suffered to +see them only twice a year; the visit is to last but an hour; they are +allowed to kiss the child at meeting and parting; but a professor, who +always stands by on those occasions, will not suffer them to whisper, +or use any fondling expressions, or bring any presents of toys, +sweetmeats, and the like. + +The pension from each family for the education and entertainment of a +child, upon failure of due payment, is levied by the emperor’s +officers. + +The nurseries for children of ordinary gentlemen, merchants, traders, +and handicrafts, are managed proportionably after the same manner; only +those designed for trades are put out apprentices at eleven years old, +whereas those of persons of quality continue in their exercises till +fifteen, which answers to twenty-one with us: but the confinement is +gradually lessened for the last three years. + +In the female nurseries, the young girls of quality are educated much +like the males, only they are dressed by orderly servants of their own +sex; but always in the presence of a professor or deputy, till they +come to dress themselves, which is at five years old. And if it be +found that these nurses ever presume to entertain the girls with +frightful or foolish stories, or the common follies practised by +chambermaids among us, they are publicly whipped thrice about the city, +imprisoned for a year, and banished for life to the most desolate part +of the country. Thus the young ladies are as much ashamed of being +cowards and fools as the men, and despise all personal ornaments, +beyond decency and cleanliness: neither did I perceive any difference +in their education made by their difference of sex, only that the +exercises of the females were not altogether so robust; and that some +rules were given them relating to domestic life, and a smaller compass +of learning was enjoined them: for their maxim is, that among peoples +of quality, a wife should be always a reasonable and agreeable +companion, because she cannot always be young. When the girls are +twelve years old, which among them is the marriageable age, their +parents or guardians take them home, with great expressions of +gratitude to the professors, and seldom without tears of the young lady +and her companions. + +In the nurseries of females of the meaner sort, the children are +instructed in all kinds of works proper for their sex, and their +several degrees: those intended for apprentices are dismissed at seven +years old, the rest are kept to eleven. + +The meaner families who have children at these nurseries, are obliged, +besides their annual pension, which is as low as possible, to return to +the steward of the nursery a small monthly share of their gettings, to +be a portion for the child; and therefore all parents are limited in +their expenses by the law. For the Lilliputians think nothing can be +more unjust, than for people, in subservience to their own appetites, +to bring children into the world, and leave the burthen of supporting +them on the public. As to persons of quality, they give security to +appropriate a certain sum for each child, suitable to their condition; +and these funds are always managed with good husbandry and the most +exact justice. + +The cottagers and labourers keep their children at home, their business +being only to till and cultivate the earth, and therefore their +education is of little consequence to the public: but the old and +diseased among them are supported by hospitals; for begging is a trade +unknown in this empire. + +And here it may, perhaps, divert the curious reader, to give some +account of my domestics, and my manner of living in this country, +during a residence of nine months, and thirteen days. Having a head +mechanically turned, and being likewise forced by necessity, I had made +for myself a table and chair convenient enough, out of the largest +trees in the royal park. Two hundred sempstresses were employed to make +me shirts, and linen for my bed and table, all of the strongest and +coarsest kind they could get; which, however, they were forced to quilt +together in several folds, for the thickest was some degrees finer than +lawn. Their linen is usually three inches wide, and three feet make a +piece. The sempstresses took my measure as I lay on the ground, one +standing at my neck, and another at my mid-leg, with a strong cord +extended, that each held by the end, while a third measured the length +of the cord with a rule of an inch long. Then they measured my right +thumb, and desired no more; for by a mathematical computation, that +twice round the thumb is once round the wrist, and so on to the neck +and the waist, and by the help of my old shirt, which I displayed on +the ground before them for a pattern, they fitted me exactly. Three +hundred tailors were employed in the same manner to make me clothes; +but they had another contrivance for taking my measure. I kneeled down, +and they raised a ladder from the ground to my neck; upon this ladder +one of them mounted, and let fall a plumb-line from my collar to the +floor, which just answered the length of my coat: but my waist and arms +I measured myself. When my clothes were finished, which was done in my +house (for the largest of theirs would not have been able to hold +them), they looked like the patch-work made by the ladies in England, +only that mine were all of a colour. + +I had three hundred cooks to dress my victuals, in little convenient +huts built about my house, where they and their families lived, and +prepared me two dishes a-piece. I took up twenty waiters in my hand, +and placed them on the table: a hundred more attended below on the +ground, some with dishes of meat, and some with barrels of wine and +other liquors slung on their shoulders; all which the waiters above +drew up, as I wanted, in a very ingenious manner, by certain cords, as +we draw the bucket up a well in Europe. A dish of their meat was a good +mouthful, and a barrel of their liquor a reasonable draught. Their +mutton yields to ours, but their beef is excellent. I have had a +sirloin so large, that I have been forced to make three bites of it; +but this is rare. My servants were astonished to see me eat it, bones +and all, as in our country we do the leg of a lark. Their geese and +turkeys I usually ate at a mouthful, and I confess they far exceed +ours. Of their smaller fowl I could take up twenty or thirty at the end +of my knife. + +One day his imperial majesty, being informed of my way of living, +desired “that himself and his royal consort, with the young princes of +the blood of both sexes, might have the happiness,” as he was pleased +to call it, “of dining with me.” They came accordingly, and I placed +them in chairs of state, upon my table, just over against me, with +their guards about them. Flimnap, the lord high treasurer, attended +there likewise with his white staff; and I observed he often looked on +me with a sour countenance, which I would not seem to regard, but ate +more than usual, in honour to my dear country, as well as to fill the +court with admiration. I have some private reasons to believe, that +this visit from his majesty gave Flimnap an opportunity of doing me ill +offices to his master. That minister had always been my secret enemy, +though he outwardly caressed me more than was usual to the moroseness +of his nature. He represented to the emperor “the low condition of his +treasury; that he was forced to take up money at a great discount; that +exchequer bills would not circulate under nine per cent. below par; +that I had cost his majesty above a million and a half of _sprugs_” +(their greatest gold coin, about the bigness of a spangle) “and, upon +the whole, that it would be advisable in the emperor to take the first +fair occasion of dismissing me.” + +I am here obliged to vindicate the reputation of an excellent lady, who +was an innocent sufferer upon my account. The treasurer took a fancy to +be jealous of his wife, from the malice of some evil tongues, who +informed him that her grace had taken a violent affection for my +person; and the court scandal ran for some time, that she once came +privately to my lodging. This I solemnly declare to be a most infamous +falsehood, without any grounds, further than that her grace was pleased +to treat me with all innocent marks of freedom and friendship. I own +she came often to my house, but always publicly, nor ever without three +more in the coach, who were usually her sister and young daughter, and +some particular acquaintance; but this was common to many other ladies +of the court. And I still appeal to my servants round, whether they at +any time saw a coach at my door, without knowing what persons were in +it. On those occasions, when a servant had given me notice, my custom +was to go immediately to the door, and, after paying my respects, to +take up the coach and two horses very carefully in my hands (for, if +there were six horses, the postillion always unharnessed four,) and +place them on a table, where I had fixed a movable rim quite round, of +five inches high, to prevent accidents. And I have often had four +coaches and horses at once on my table, full of company, while I sat in +my chair, leaning my face towards them; and when I was engaged with one +set, the coachmen would gently drive the others round my table. I have +passed many an afternoon very agreeably in these conversations. But I +defy the treasurer, or his two informers (I will name them, and let +them make the best of it) Clustril and Drunlo, to prove that any person +ever came to me _incognito_, except the secretary Reldresal, who was +sent by express command of his imperial majesty, as I have before +related. I should not have dwelt so long upon this particular, if it +had not been a point wherein the reputation of a great lady is so +nearly concerned, to say nothing of my own; though I then had the +honour to be a _nardac_, which the treasurer himself is not; for all +the world knows, that he is only a _glumglum_, a title inferior by one +degree, as that of a marquis is to a duke in England; yet I allow he +preceded me in right of his post. These false informations, which I +afterwards came to the knowledge of by an accident not proper to +mention, made the treasurer show his lady for some time an ill +countenance, and me a worse; and although he was at last undeceived and +reconciled to her, yet I lost all credit with him, and found my +interest decline very fast with the emperor himself, who was, indeed, +too much governed by that favourite. + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The author, being informed of a design to accuse him of high-treason, +makes his escape to Blefuscu. His reception there. + + +Before I proceed to give an account of my leaving this kingdom, it may +be proper to inform the reader of a private intrigue which had been for +two months forming against me. + +I had been hitherto, all my life, a stranger to courts, for which I was +unqualified by the meanness of my condition. I had indeed heard and +read enough of the dispositions of great princes and ministers, but +never expected to have found such terrible effects of them, in so +remote a country, governed, as I thought, by very different maxims from +those in Europe. + +When I was just preparing to pay my attendance on the emperor of +Blefuscu, a considerable person at court (to whom I had been very +serviceable, at a time when he lay under the highest displeasure of his +imperial majesty) came to my house very privately at night, in a close +chair, and, without sending his name, desired admittance. The chairmen +were dismissed; I put the chair, with his lordship in it, into my +coat-pocket: and, giving orders to a trusty servant, to say I was +indisposed and gone to sleep, I fastened the door of my house, placed +the chair on the table, according to my usual custom, and sat down by +it. After the common salutations were over, observing his lordship’s +countenance full of concern, and inquiring into the reason, he desired +“I would hear him with patience, in a matter that highly concerned my +honour and my life.” His speech was to the following effect, for I took +notes of it as soon as he left me:— + +“You are to know,” said he, “that several committees of council have +been lately called, in the most private manner, on your account; and it +is but two days since his majesty came to a full resolution. + +“You are very sensible that Skyresh Bolgolam” (_galbet_, or +high-admiral) “has been your mortal enemy, almost ever since your +arrival. His original reasons I know not; but his hatred is increased +since your great success against Blefuscu, by which his glory as +admiral is much obscured. This lord, in conjunction with Flimnap the +high-treasurer, whose enmity against you is notorious on account of his +lady, Limtoc the general, Lalcon the chamberlain, and Balmuff the grand +justiciary, have prepared articles of impeachment against you, for +treason and other capital crimes.” + +This preface made me so impatient, being conscious of my own merits and +innocence, that I was going to interrupt him; when he entreated me to +be silent, and thus proceeded:— + +“Out of gratitude for the favours you have done me, I procured +information of the whole proceedings, and a copy of the articles; +wherein I venture my head for your service. + + +“‘_Articles of Impeachment against_ QUINBUS FLESTRIN, (_the +Man-Mountain_.) + +Article I. + + +“‘Whereas, by a statute made in the reign of his imperial majesty Calin +Deffar Plune, it is enacted, that, whoever shall make water within the +precincts of the royal palace, shall be liable to the pains and +penalties of high-treason; notwithstanding, the said Quinbus Flestrin, +in open breach of the said law, under colour of extinguishing the fire +kindled in the apartment of his majesty’s most dear imperial consort, +did maliciously, traitorously, and devilishly, by discharge of his +urine, put out the said fire kindled in the said apartment, lying and +being within the precincts of the said royal palace, against the +statute in that case provided, etc. against the duty, etc. + +Article II. + + +“‘That the said Quinbus Flestrin, having brought the imperial fleet of +Blefuscu into the royal port, and being afterwards commanded by his +imperial majesty to seize all the other ships of the said empire of +Blefuscu, and reduce that empire to a province, to be governed by a +viceroy from hence, and to destroy and put to death, not only all the +Big-endian exiles, but likewise all the people of that empire who would +not immediately forsake the Big-endian heresy, he, the said Flestrin, +like a false traitor against his most auspicious, serene, imperial +majesty, did petition to be excused from the said service, upon +pretence of unwillingness to force the consciences, or destroy the +liberties and lives of an innocent people. + +Article III. + + +“‘That, whereas certain ambassadors arrived from the Court of Blefuscu, +to sue for peace in his majesty’s court, he, the said Flestrin, did, +like a false traitor, aid, abet, comfort, and divert, the said +ambassadors, although he knew them to be servants to a prince who was +lately an open enemy to his imperial majesty, and in an open war +against his said majesty. + +Article IV. + + +“‘That the said Quinbus Flestrin, contrary to the duty of a faithful +subject, is now preparing to make a voyage to the court and empire of +Blefuscu, for which he has received only verbal license from his +imperial majesty; and, under colour of the said license, does falsely +and traitorously intend to take the said voyage, and thereby to aid, +comfort, and abet the emperor of Blefuscu, so lately an enemy, and in +open war with his imperial majesty aforesaid.’ + + +“There are some other articles; but these are the most important, of +which I have read you an abstract. + +“In the several debates upon this impeachment, it must be confessed +that his majesty gave many marks of his great lenity; often urging the +services you had done him, and endeavouring to extenuate your crimes. +The treasurer and admiral insisted that you should be put to the most +painful and ignominious death, by setting fire to your house at night, +and the general was to attend with twenty thousand men, armed with +poisoned arrows, to shoot you on the face and hands. Some of your +servants were to have private orders to strew a poisonous juice on your +shirts and sheets, which would soon make you tear your own flesh, and +die in the utmost torture. The general came into the same opinion; so +that for a long time there was a majority against you; but his majesty +resolving, if possible, to spare your life, at last brought off the +chamberlain. + +“Upon this incident, Reldresal, principal secretary for private +affairs, who always approved himself your true friend, was commanded by +the emperor to deliver his opinion, which he accordingly did; and +therein justified the good thoughts you have of him. He allowed your +crimes to be great, but that still there was room for mercy, the most +commendable virtue in a prince, and for which his majesty was so justly +celebrated. He said, the friendship between you and him was so well +known to the world, that perhaps the most honourable board might think +him partial; however, in obedience to the command he had received, he +would freely offer his sentiments. That if his majesty, in +consideration of your services, and pursuant to his own merciful +disposition, would please to spare your life, and only give orders to +put out both your eyes, he humbly conceived, that by this expedient +justice might in some measure be satisfied, and all the world would +applaud the lenity of the emperor, as well as the fair and generous +proceedings of those who have the honour to be his counsellors. That +the loss of your eyes would be no impediment to your bodily strength, +by which you might still be useful to his majesty; that blindness is an +addition to courage, by concealing dangers from us; that the fear you +had for your eyes, was the greatest difficulty in bringing over the +enemy’s fleet, and it would be sufficient for you to see by the eyes of +the ministers, since the greatest princes do no more. + +“This proposal was received with the utmost disapprobation by the whole +board. Bolgolam, the admiral, could not preserve his temper, but, +rising up in fury, said, he wondered how the secretary durst presume to +give his opinion for preserving the life of a traitor; that the +services you had performed were, by all true reasons of state, the +great aggravation of your crimes; that you, who were able to extinguish +the fire by discharge of urine in her majesty’s apartment (which he +mentioned with horror), might, at another time, raise an inundation by +the same means, to drown the whole palace; and the same strength which +enabled you to bring over the enemy’s fleet, might serve, upon the +first discontent, to carry it back; that he had good reasons to think +you were a Big-endian in your heart; and, as treason begins in the +heart, before it appears in overt acts, so he accused you as a traitor +on that account, and therefore insisted you should be put to death. + +“The treasurer was of the same opinion: he showed to what straits his +majesty’s revenue was reduced, by the charge of maintaining you, which +would soon grow insupportable; that the secretary’s expedient of +putting out your eyes, was so far from being a remedy against this +evil, that it would probably increase it, as is manifest from the +common practice of blinding some kind of fowls, after which they fed +the faster, and grew sooner fat; that his sacred majesty and the +council, who are your judges, were, in their own consciences, fully +convinced of your guilt, which was a sufficient argument to condemn you +to death, without the formal proofs required by the strict letter of +the law. + +“But his imperial majesty, fully determined against capital punishment, +was graciously pleased to say, that since the council thought the loss +of your eyes too easy a censure, some other way may be inflicted +hereafter. And your friend the secretary, humbly desiring to be heard +again, in answer to what the treasurer had objected, concerning the +great charge his majesty was at in maintaining you, said, that his +excellency, who had the sole disposal of the emperor’s revenue, might +easily provide against that evil, by gradually lessening your +establishment; by which, for want of sufficient food, you would grow +weak and faint, and lose your appetite, and consequently, decay, and +consume in a few months; neither would the stench of your carcass be +then so dangerous, when it should become more than half diminished; and +immediately upon your death five or six thousand of his majesty’s +subjects might, in two or three days, cut your flesh from your bones, +take it away by cart-loads, and bury it in distant parts, to prevent +infection, leaving the skeleton as a monument of admiration to +posterity. + +“Thus, by the great friendship of the secretary, the whole affair was +compromised. It was strictly enjoined, that the project of starving you +by degrees should be kept a secret; but the sentence of putting out +your eyes was entered on the books; none dissenting, except Bolgolam +the admiral, who, being a creature of the empress, was perpetually +instigated by her majesty to insist upon your death, she having borne +perpetual malice against you, on account of that infamous and illegal +method you took to extinguish the fire in her apartment. + +“In three days your friend the secretary will be directed to come to +your house, and read before you the articles of impeachment; and then +to signify the great lenity and favour of his majesty and council, +whereby you are only condemned to the loss of your eyes, which his +majesty does not question you will gratefully and humbly submit to; and +twenty of his majesty’s surgeons will attend, in order to see the +operation well performed, by discharging very sharp-pointed arrows into +the balls of your eyes, as you lie on the ground. + +“I leave to your prudence what measures you will take; and to avoid +suspicion, I must immediately return in as private a manner as I came.” + +His lordship did so; and I remained alone, under many doubts and +perplexities of mind. + +It was a custom introduced by this prince and his ministry (very +different, as I have been assured, from the practice of former times,) +that after the court had decreed any cruel execution, either to gratify +the monarch’s resentment, or the malice of a favourite, the emperor +always made a speech to his whole council, expressing his great lenity +and tenderness, as qualities known and confessed by all the world. This +speech was immediately published throughout the kingdom; nor did any +thing terrify the people so much as those encomiums on his majesty’s +mercy; because it was observed, that the more these praises were +enlarged and insisted on, the more inhuman was the punishment, and the +sufferer more innocent. Yet, as to myself, I must confess, having never +been designed for a courtier, either by my birth or education, I was so +ill a judge of things, that I could not discover the lenity and favour +of this sentence, but conceived it (perhaps erroneously) rather to be +rigorous than gentle. I sometimes thought of standing my trial, for, +although I could not deny the facts alleged in the several articles, +yet I hoped they would admit of some extenuation. But having in my life +perused many state-trials, which I ever observed to terminate as the +judges thought fit to direct, I durst not rely on so dangerous a +decision, in so critical a juncture, and against such powerful enemies. +Once I was strongly bent upon resistance, for, while I had liberty the +whole strength of that empire could hardly subdue me, and I might +easily with stones pelt the metropolis to pieces; but I soon rejected +that project with horror, by remembering the oath I had made to the +emperor, the favours I received from him, and the high title of +_nardac_ he conferred upon me. Neither had I so soon learned the +gratitude of courtiers, to persuade myself, that his majesty’s present +severities acquitted me of all past obligations. + +At last, I fixed upon a resolution, for which it is probable I may +incur some censure, and not unjustly; for I confess I owe the +preserving of my eyes, and consequently my liberty, to my own great +rashness and want of experience; because, if I had then known the +nature of princes and ministers, which I have since observed in many +other courts, and their methods of treating criminals less obnoxious +than myself, I should, with great alacrity and readiness, have +submitted to so easy a punishment. But hurried on by the precipitancy +of youth, and having his imperial majesty’s license to pay my +attendance upon the emperor of Blefuscu, I took this opportunity, +before the three days were elapsed, to send a letter to my friend the +secretary, signifying my resolution of setting out that morning for +Blefuscu, pursuant to the leave I had got; and, without waiting for an +answer, I went to that side of the island where our fleet lay. I seized +a large man of war, tied a cable to the prow, and, lifting up the +anchors, I stripped myself, put my clothes (together with my coverlet, +which I carried under my arm) into the vessel, and, drawing it after +me, between wading and swimming arrived at the royal port of Blefuscu, +where the people had long expected me: they lent me two guides to +direct me to the capital city, which is of the same name. I held them +in my hands, till I came within two hundred yards of the gate, and +desired them “to signify my arrival to one of the secretaries, and let +him know, I there waited his majesty’s command.” I had an answer in +about an hour, “that his majesty, attended by the royal family, and +great officers of the court, was coming out to receive me.” I advanced +a hundred yards. The emperor and his train alighted from their horses, +the empress and ladies from their coaches, and I did not perceive they +were in any fright or concern. I lay on the ground to kiss his +majesty’s and the empress’s hands. I told his majesty, “that I was come +according to my promise, and with the license of the emperor my master, +to have the honour of seeing so mighty a monarch, and to offer him any +service in my power, consistent with my duty to my own prince;” not +mentioning a word of my disgrace, because I had hitherto no regular +information of it, and might suppose myself wholly ignorant of any such +design; neither could I reasonably conceive that the emperor would +discover the secret, while I was out of his power; wherein, however, it +soon appeared I was deceived. + +I shall not trouble the reader with the particular account of my +reception at this court, which was suitable to the generosity of so +great a prince; nor of the difficulties I was in for want of a house +and bed, being forced to lie on the ground, wrapped up in my coverlet. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +The author, by a lucky accident, finds means to leave Blefuscu; and, +after some difficulties, returns safe to his native country. + + +Three days after my arrival, walking out of curiosity to the north-east +coast of the island, I observed, about half a league off in the sea, +somewhat that looked like a boat overturned. I pulled off my shoes and +stockings, and, wading two or three hundred yards, I found the object +to approach nearer by force of the tide; and then plainly saw it to be +a real boat, which I supposed might by some tempest have been driven +from a ship. Whereupon, I returned immediately towards the city, and +desired his imperial majesty to lend me twenty of the tallest vessels +he had left, after the loss of his fleet, and three thousand seamen, +under the command of his vice-admiral. This fleet sailed round, while I +went back the shortest way to the coast, where I first discovered the +boat. I found the tide had driven it still nearer. The seamen were all +provided with cordage, which I had beforehand twisted to a sufficient +strength. When the ships came up, I stripped myself, and waded till I +came within a hundred yards of the boat, after which I was forced to +swim till I got up to it. The seamen threw me the end of the cord, +which I fastened to a hole in the fore-part of the boat, and the other +end to a man of war; but I found all my labour to little purpose; for, +being out of my depth, I was not able to work. In this necessity I was +forced to swim behind, and push the boat forward, as often as I could, +with one of my hands; and the tide favouring me, I advanced so far that +I could just hold up my chin and feel the ground. I rested two or three +minutes, and then gave the boat another shove, and so on, till the sea +was no higher than my arm-pits; and now, the most laborious part being +over, I took out my other cables, which were stowed in one of the +ships, and fastened them first to the boat, and then to nine of the +vessels which attended me; the wind being favourable, the seamen towed, +and I shoved, until we arrived within forty yards of the shore; and, +waiting till the tide was out, I got dry to the boat, and by the +assistance of two thousand men, with ropes and engines, I made a shift +to turn it on its bottom, and found it was but little damaged. + +I shall not trouble the reader with the difficulties I was under, by +the help of certain paddles, which cost me ten days making, to get my +boat to the royal port of Blefuscu, where a mighty concourse of people +appeared upon my arrival, full of wonder at the sight of so prodigious +a vessel. I told the emperor “that my good fortune had thrown this boat +in my way, to carry me to some place whence I might return into my +native country; and begged his majesty’s orders for getting materials +to fit it up, together with his license to depart;” which, after some +kind expostulations, he was pleased to grant. + +I did very much wonder, in all this time, not to have heard of any +express relating to me from our emperor to the court of Blefuscu. But I +was afterward given privately to understand, that his imperial majesty, +never imagining I had the least notice of his designs, believed I was +only gone to Blefuscu in performance of my promise, according to the +license he had given me, which was well known at our court, and would +return in a few days, when the ceremony was ended. But he was at last +in pain at my long absence; and after consulting with the treasurer and +the rest of that cabal, a person of quality was dispatched with the +copy of the articles against me. This envoy had instructions to +represent to the monarch of Blefuscu, “the great lenity of his master, +who was content to punish me no farther than with the loss of my eyes; +that I had fled from justice; and if I did not return in two hours, I +should be deprived of my title of _nardac_, and declared a traitor.” +The envoy further added, “that in order to maintain the peace and amity +between both empires, his master expected that his brother of Blefuscu +would give orders to have me sent back to Lilliput, bound hand and +foot, to be punished as a traitor.” + +The emperor of Blefuscu, having taken three days to consult, returned +an answer consisting of many civilities and excuses. He said, “that as +for sending me bound, his brother knew it was impossible; that, +although I had deprived him of his fleet, yet he owed great obligations +to me for many good offices I had done him in making the peace. That, +however, both their majesties would soon be made easy; for I had found +a prodigious vessel on the shore, able to carry me on the sea, which he +had given orders to fit up, with my own assistance and direction; and +he hoped, in a few weeks, both empires would be freed from so +insupportable an encumbrance.” + +With this answer the envoy returned to Lilliput; and the monarch of +Blefuscu related to me all that had passed; offering me at the same +time (but under the strictest confidence) his gracious protection, if I +would continue in his service; wherein, although I believed him +sincere, yet I resolved never more to put any confidence in princes or +ministers, where I could possibly avoid it; and therefore, with all due +acknowledgments for his favourable intentions, I humbly begged to be +excused. I told him, “that since fortune, whether good or evil, had +thrown a vessel in my way, I was resolved to venture myself on the +ocean, rather than be an occasion of difference between two such mighty +monarchs.” Neither did I find the emperor at all displeased; and I +discovered, by a certain accident, that he was very glad of my +resolution, and so were most of his ministers. + +These considerations moved me to hasten my departure somewhat sooner +than I intended; to which the court, impatient to have me gone, very +readily contributed. Five hundred workmen were employed to make two +sails to my boat, according to my directions, by quilting thirteen +folds of their strongest linen together. I was at the pains of making +ropes and cables, by twisting ten, twenty, or thirty of the thickest +and strongest of theirs. A great stone that I happened to find, after a +long search, by the sea-shore, served me for an anchor. I had the +tallow of three hundred cows, for greasing my boat, and other uses. I +was at incredible pains in cutting down some of the largest +timber-trees, for oars and masts, wherein I was, however, much assisted +by his majesty’s ship-carpenters, who helped me in smoothing them, +after I had done the rough work. + +In about a month, when all was prepared, I sent to receive his +majesty’s commands, and to take my leave. The emperor and royal family +came out of the palace; I lay down on my face to kiss his hand, which +he very graciously gave me: so did the empress and young princes of the +blood. His majesty presented me with fifty purses of two hundred +_sprugs_ a-piece, together with his picture at full length, which I put +immediately into one of my gloves, to keep it from being hurt. The +ceremonies at my departure were too many to trouble the reader with at +this time. + +I stored the boat with the carcases of a hundred oxen, and three +hundred sheep, with bread and drink proportionable, and as much meat +ready dressed as four hundred cooks could provide. I took with me six +cows and two bulls alive, with as many ewes and rams, intending to +carry them into my own country, and propagate the breed. And to feed +them on board, I had a good bundle of hay, and a bag of corn. I would +gladly have taken a dozen of the natives, but this was a thing the +emperor would by no means permit; and, besides a diligent search into +my pockets, his majesty engaged my honour “not to carry away any of his +subjects, although with their own consent and desire.” + +Having thus prepared all things as well as I was able, I set sail on +the twenty-fourth day of September 1701, at six in the morning; and +when I had gone about four leagues to the northward, the wind being at +south-east, at six in the evening I descried a small island, about half +a league to the north-west. I advanced forward, and cast anchor on the +lee-side of the island, which seemed to be uninhabited. I then took +some refreshment, and went to my rest. I slept well, and as I +conjectured at least six hours, for I found the day broke in two hours +after I awaked. It was a clear night. I ate my breakfast before the sun +was up; and heaving anchor, the wind being favourable, I steered the +same course that I had done the day before, wherein I was directed by +my pocket compass. My intention was to reach, if possible, one of those +islands which I had reason to believe lay to the north-east of Van +Diemen’s Land. I discovered nothing all that day; but upon the next, +about three in the afternoon, when I had by my computation made +twenty-four leagues from Blefuscu, I descried a sail steering to the +south-east; my course was due east. I hailed her, but could get no +answer; yet I found I gained upon her, for the wind slackened. I made +all the sail I could, and in half an hour she spied me, then hung out +her ancient, and discharged a gun. It is not easy to express the joy I +was in, upon the unexpected hope of once more seeing my beloved +country, and the dear pledges I left in it. The ship slackened her +sails, and I came up with her between five and six in the evening, +September 26th; but my heart leaped within me to see her English +colours. I put my cows and sheep into my coat-pockets, and got on board +with all my little cargo of provisions. The vessel was an English +merchantman, returning from Japan by the North and South seas; the +captain, Mr. John Biddel, of Deptford, a very civil man, and an +excellent sailor. + +We were now in the latitude of 30 degrees south; there were about fifty +men in the ship; and here I met an old comrade of mine, one Peter +Williams, who gave me a good character to the captain. This gentleman +treated me with kindness, and desired I would let him know what place I +came from last, and whither I was bound; which I did in a few words, +but he thought I was raving, and that the dangers I underwent had +disturbed my head; whereupon I took my black cattle and sheep out of my +pocket, which, after great astonishment, clearly convinced him of my +veracity. I then showed him the gold given me by the emperor of +Blefuscu, together with his majesty’s picture at full length, and some +other rarities of that country. I gave him two purses of two hundreds +_sprugs_ each, and promised, when we arrived in England, to make him a +present of a cow and a sheep big with young. + +I shall not trouble the reader with a particular account of this +voyage, which was very prosperous for the most part. We arrived in the +Downs on the 13th of April, 1702. I had only one misfortune, that the +rats on board carried away one of my sheep; I found her bones in a +hole, picked clean from the flesh. The rest of my cattle I got safe +ashore, and set them a-grazing in a bowling-green at Greenwich, where +the fineness of the grass made them feed very heartily, though I had +always feared the contrary: neither could I possibly have preserved +them in so long a voyage, if the captain had not allowed me some of his +best biscuit, which, rubbed to powder, and mingled with water, was +their constant food. The short time I continued in England, I made a +considerable profit by showing my cattle to many persons of quality and +others: and before I began my second voyage, I sold them for six +hundred pounds. Since my last return I find the breed is considerably +increased, especially the sheep, which I hope will prove much to the +advantage of the woollen manufacture, by the fineness of the fleeces. + +I stayed but two months with my wife and family, for my insatiable +desire of seeing foreign countries, would suffer me to continue no +longer. I left fifteen hundred pounds with my wife, and fixed her in a +good house at Redriff. My remaining stock I carried with me, part in +money and part in goods, in hopes to improve my fortunes. My eldest +uncle John had left me an estate in land, near Epping, of about thirty +pounds a year; and I had a long lease of the Black Bull in Fetter Lane, +which yielded me as much more; so that I was not in any danger of +leaving my family upon the parish. My son Johnny, named so after his +uncle, was at the grammar school, and a towardly child. My daughter +Betty (who is now well married, and has children) was then at her +needlework. I took leave of my wife, and boy and girl, with tears on +both sides, and went on board the Adventure, a merchant ship of three +hundred tons, bound for Surat, captain John Nicholas, of Liverpool, +commander. But my account of this voyage must be referred to the Second +Part of my Travels. + + +PART II. A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG. + + +CHAPTER I. + +A great storm described; the long boat sent to fetch water; the author +goes with it to discover the country. He is left on shore, is seized by +one of the natives, and carried to a farmer’s house. His reception, +with several accidents that happened there. A description of the +inhabitants. + + +Having been condemned, by nature and fortune, to active and restless +life, in two months after my return, I again left my native country, +and took shipping in the Downs, on the 20th day of June, 1702, in the +Adventure, Captain John Nicholas, a Cornish man, commander, bound for +Surat. We had a very prosperous gale, till we arrived at the Cape of +Good Hope, where we landed for fresh water; but discovering a leak, we +unshipped our goods and wintered there; for the captain falling sick of +an ague, we could not leave the Cape till the end of March. We then set +sail, and had a good voyage till we passed the Straits of Madagascar; +but having got northward of that island, and to about five degrees +south latitude, the winds, which in those seas are observed to blow a +constant equal gale between the north and west, from the beginning of +December to the beginning of May, on the 19th of April began to blow +with much greater violence, and more westerly than usual, continuing so +for twenty days together: during which time, we were driven a little to +the east of the Molucca Islands, and about three degrees northward of +the line, as our captain found by an observation he took the 2nd of +May, at which time the wind ceased, and it was a perfect calm, whereat +I was not a little rejoiced. But he, being a man well experienced in +the navigation of those seas, bid us all prepare against a storm, which +accordingly happened the day following: for the southern wind, called +the southern monsoon, began to set in. + +Finding it was likely to overblow, we took in our sprit-sail, and stood +by to hand the fore-sail; but making foul weather, we looked the guns +were all fast, and handed the mizen. The ship lay very broad off, so we +thought it better spooning before the sea, than trying or hulling. We +reefed the fore-sail and set him, and hauled aft the fore-sheet; the +helm was hard a-weather. The ship wore bravely. We belayed the fore +down-haul; but the sail was split, and we hauled down the yard, and got +the sail into the ship, and unbound all the things clear of it. It was +a very fierce storm; the sea broke strange and dangerous. We hauled off +upon the laniard of the whip-staff, and helped the man at the helm. We +would not get down our topmast, but let all stand, because she scudded +before the sea very well, and we knew that the top-mast being aloft, +the ship was the wholesomer, and made better way through the sea, +seeing we had sea-room. When the storm was over, we set fore-sail and +main-sail, and brought the ship to. Then we set the mizen, +main-top-sail, and the fore-top-sail. Our course was east-north-east, +the wind was at south-west. We got the starboard tacks aboard, we cast +off our weather-braces and lifts; we set in the lee-braces, and hauled +forward by the weather-bowlings, and hauled them tight, and belayed +them, and hauled over the mizen tack to windward, and kept her full and +by as near as she would lie. + +During this storm, which was followed by a strong wind west-south-west, +we were carried, by my computation, about five hundred leagues to the +east, so that the oldest sailor on board could not tell in what part of +the world we were. Our provisions held out well, our ship was staunch, +and our crew all in good health; but we lay in the utmost distress for +water. We thought it best to hold on the same course, rather than turn +more northerly, which might have brought us to the north-west part of +Great Tartary, and into the Frozen Sea. + +On the 16th day of June, 1703, a boy on the top-mast discovered land. +On the 17th, we came in full view of a great island, or continent (for +we knew not whether;) on the south side whereof was a small neck of +land jutting out into the sea, and a creek too shallow to hold a ship +of above one hundred tons. We cast anchor within a league of this +creek, and our captain sent a dozen of his men well armed in the +long-boat, with vessels for water, if any could be found. I desired his +leave to go with them, that I might see the country, and make what +discoveries I could. When we came to land we saw no river or spring, +nor any sign of inhabitants. Our men therefore wandered on the shore to +find out some fresh water near the sea, and I walked alone about a mile +on the other side, where I observed the country all barren and rocky. I +now began to be weary, and seeing nothing to entertain my curiosity, I +returned gently down towards the creek; and the sea being full in my +view, I saw our men already got into the boat, and rowing for life to +the ship. I was going to holla after them, although it had been to +little purpose, when I observed a huge creature walking after them in +the sea, as fast as he could: he waded not much deeper than his knees, +and took prodigious strides: but our men had the start of him half a +league, and, the sea thereabouts being full of sharp-pointed rocks, the +monster was not able to overtake the boat. This I was afterwards told, +for I durst not stay to see the issue of the adventure; but ran as fast +as I could the way I first went, and then climbed up a steep hill, +which gave me some prospect of the country. I found it fully +cultivated; but that which first surprised me was the length of the +grass, which, in those grounds that seemed to be kept for hay, was +about twenty feet high. + +I fell into a high road, for so I took it to be, though it served to +the inhabitants only as a foot-path through a field of barley. Here I +walked on for some time, but could see little on either side, it being +now near harvest, and the corn rising at least forty feet. I was an +hour walking to the end of this field, which was fenced in with a hedge +of at least one hundred and twenty feet high, and the trees so lofty +that I could make no computation of their altitude. There was a stile +to pass from this field into the next. It had four steps, and a stone +to cross over when you came to the uppermost. It was impossible for me +to climb this stile, because every step was six-feet high, and the +upper stone about twenty. I was endeavouring to find some gap in the +hedge, when I discovered one of the inhabitants in the next field, +advancing towards the stile, of the same size with him whom I saw in +the sea pursuing our boat. He appeared as tall as an ordinary spire +steeple, and took about ten yards at every stride, as near as I could +guess. I was struck with the utmost fear and astonishment, and ran to +hide myself in the corn, whence I saw him at the top of the stile +looking back into the next field on the right hand, and heard him call +in a voice many degrees louder than a speaking-trumpet: but the noise +was so high in the air, that at first I certainly thought it was +thunder. Whereupon seven monsters, like himself, came towards him with +reaping-hooks in their hands, each hook about the largeness of six +scythes. These people were not so well clad as the first, whose +servants or labourers they seemed to be; for, upon some words he spoke, +they went to reap the corn in the field where I lay. I kept from them +at as great a distance as I could, but was forced to move with extreme +difficulty, for the stalks of the corn were sometimes not above a foot +distant, so that I could hardly squeeze my body betwixt them. However, +I made a shift to go forward, till I came to a part of the field where +the corn had been laid by the rain and wind. Here it was impossible for +me to advance a step; for the stalks were so interwoven, that I could +not creep through, and the beards of the fallen ears so strong and +pointed, that they pierced through my clothes into my flesh. At the +same time I heard the reapers not a hundred yards behind me. Being +quite dispirited with toil, and wholly overcome by grief and dispair, I +lay down between two ridges, and heartily wished I might there end my +days. I bemoaned my desolate widow and fatherless children. I lamented +my own folly and wilfulness, in attempting a second voyage, against the +advice of all my friends and relations. In this terrible agitation of +mind, I could not forbear thinking of Lilliput, whose inhabitants +looked upon me as the greatest prodigy that ever appeared in the world; +where I was able to draw an imperial fleet in my hand, and perform +those other actions, which will be recorded for ever in the chronicles +of that empire, while posterity shall hardly believe them, although +attested by millions. I reflected what a mortification it must prove to +me, to appear as inconsiderable in this nation, as one single +Lilliputian would be among us. But this I conceived was to be the least +of my misfortunes; for, as human creatures are observed to be more +savage and cruel in proportion to their bulk, what could I expect but +to be a morsel in the mouth of the first among these enormous +barbarians that should happen to seize me? Undoubtedly philosophers are +in the right, when they tell us that nothing is great or little +otherwise than by comparison. It might have pleased fortune, to have +let the Lilliputians find some nation, where the people were as +diminutive with respect to them, as they were to me. And who knows but +that even this prodigious race of mortals might be equally overmatched +in some distant part of the world, whereof we have yet no discovery. + +Scared and confounded as I was, I could not forbear going on with these +reflections, when one of the reapers, approaching within ten yards of +the ridge where I lay, made me apprehend that with the next step I +should be squashed to death under his foot, or cut in two with his +reaping-hook. And therefore, when he was again about to move, I +screamed as loud as fear could make me: whereupon the huge creature +trod short, and, looking round about under him for some time, at last +espied me as I lay on the ground. He considered awhile, with the +caution of one who endeavours to lay hold on a small dangerous animal +in such a manner that it shall not be able either to scratch or bite +him, as I myself have sometimes done with a weasel in England. At +length he ventured to take me behind, by the middle, between his +fore-finger and thumb, and brought me within three yards of his eyes, +that he might behold my shape more perfectly. I guessed his meaning, +and my good fortune gave me so much presence of mind, that I resolved +not to struggle in the least as he held me in the air above sixty feet +from the ground, although he grievously pinched my sides, for fear I +should slip through his fingers. All I ventured was to raise my eyes +towards the sun, and place my hands together in a supplicating posture, +and to speak some words in a humble melancholy tone, suitable to the +condition I then was in: for I apprehended every moment that he would +dash me against the ground, as we usually do any little hateful animal, +which we have a mind to destroy. But my good star would have it, that +he appeared pleased with my voice and gestures, and began to look upon +me as a curiosity, much wondering to hear me pronounce articulate +words, although he could not understand them. In the mean time I was +not able to forbear groaning and shedding tears, and turning my head +towards my sides; letting him know, as well as I could, how cruelly I +was hurt by the pressure of his thumb and finger. He seemed to +apprehend my meaning; for, lifting up the lappet of his coat, he put me +gently into it, and immediately ran along with me to his master, who +was a substantial farmer, and the same person I had first seen in the +field. + +The farmer having (as I suppose by their talk) received such an account +of me as his servant could give him, took a piece of a small straw, +about the size of a walking-staff, and therewith lifted up the lappets +of my coat; which it seems he thought to be some kind of covering that +nature had given me. He blew my hairs aside to take a better view of my +face. He called his hinds about him, and asked them, as I afterwards +learned, whether they had ever seen in the fields any little creature +that resembled me. He then placed me softly on the ground upon all +fours, but I got immediately up, and walked slowly backward and +forward, to let those people see I had no intent to run away. They all +sat down in a circle about me, the better to observe my motions. I +pulled off my hat, and made a low bow towards the farmer. I fell on my +knees, and lifted up my hands and eyes, and spoke several words as loud +as I could: I took a purse of gold out of my pocket, and humbly +presented it to him. He received it on the palm of his hand, then +applied it close to his eye to see what it was, and afterwards turned +it several times with the point of a pin (which he took out of his +sleeve,) but could make nothing of it. Whereupon I made a sign that he +should place his hand on the ground. I then took the purse, and, +opening it, poured all the gold into his palm. There were six Spanish +pieces of four pistoles each, beside twenty or thirty smaller coins. I +saw him wet the tip of his little finger upon his tongue, and take up +one of my largest pieces, and then another; but he seemed to be wholly +ignorant what they were. He made me a sign to put them again into my +purse, and the purse again into my pocket, which, after offering it to +him several times, I thought it best to do. + +The farmer, by this time, was convinced I must be a rational creature. +He spoke often to me; but the sound of his voice pierced my ears like +that of a water-mill, yet his words were articulate enough. I answered +as loud as I could in several languages, and he often laid his ear +within two yards of me: but all in vain, for we were wholly +unintelligible to each other. He then sent his servants to their work, +and taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, he doubled and spread it +on his left hand, which he placed flat on the ground with the palm +upward, making me a sign to step into it, as I could easily do, for it +was not above a foot in thickness. I thought it my part to obey, and, +for fear of falling, laid myself at full length upon the handkerchief, +with the remainder of which he lapped me up to the head for further +security, and in this manner carried me home to his house. There he +called his wife, and showed me to her; but she screamed and ran back, +as women in England do at the sight of a toad or a spider. However, +when she had a while seen my behaviour, and how well I observed the +signs her husband made, she was soon reconciled, and by degrees grew +extremely tender of me. + +It was about twelve at noon, and a servant brought in dinner. It was +only one substantial dish of meat (fit for the plain condition of a +husbandman,) in a dish of about four-and-twenty feet diameter. The +company were, the farmer and his wife, three children, and an old +grandmother. When they were sat down, the farmer placed me at some +distance from him on the table, which was thirty feet high from the +floor. I was in a terrible fright, and kept as far as I could from the +edge, for fear of falling. The wife minced a bit of meat, then crumbled +some bread on a trencher, and placed it before me. I made her a low +bow, took out my knife and fork, and fell to eat, which gave them +exceeding delight. The mistress sent her maid for a small dram cup, +which held about two gallons, and filled it with drink; I took up the +vessel with much difficulty in both hands, and in a most respectful +manner drank to her ladyship’s health, expressing the words as loud as +I could in English, which made the company laugh so heartily, that I +was almost deafened with the noise. This liquor tasted like a small +cider, and was not unpleasant. Then the master made me a sign to come +to his trencher side; but as I walked on the table, being in great +surprise all the time, as the indulgent reader will easily conceive and +excuse, I happened to stumble against a crust, and fell flat on my +face, but received no hurt. I got up immediately, and observing the +good people to be in much concern, I took my hat (which I held under my +arm out of good manners,) and waving it over my head, made three +huzzas, to show I had got no mischief by my fall. But advancing forward +towards my master (as I shall henceforth call him,) his youngest son, +who sat next to him, an arch boy of about ten years old, took me up by +the legs, and held me so high in the air, that I trembled every limb: +but his father snatched me from him, and at the same time gave him such +a box on the left ear, as would have felled an European troop of horse +to the earth, ordering him to be taken from the table. But being afraid +the boy might owe me a spite, and well remembering how mischievous all +children among us naturally are to sparrows, rabbits, young kittens, +and puppy dogs, I fell on my knees, and pointing to the boy, made my +master to understand, as well as I could, that I desired his son might +be pardoned. The father complied, and the lad took his seat again, +whereupon I went to him, and kissed his hand, which my master took, and +made him stroke me gently with it. + +In the midst of dinner, my mistress’s favourite cat leaped into her +lap. I heard a noise behind me like that of a dozen stocking-weavers at +work; and turning my head, I found it proceeded from the purring of +that animal, who seemed to be three times larger than an ox, as I +computed by the view of her head, and one of her paws, while her +mistress was feeding and stroking her. The fierceness of this +creature’s countenance altogether discomposed me; though I stood at the +farther end of the table, above fifty feet off; and although my +mistress held her fast, for fear she might give a spring, and seize me +in her talons. But it happened there was no danger, for the cat took +not the least notice of me when my master placed me within three yards +of her. And as I have been always told, and found true by experience in +my travels, that flying or discovering fear before a fierce animal, is +a certain way to make it pursue or attack you, so I resolved, in this +dangerous juncture, to show no manner of concern. I walked with +intrepidity five or six times before the very head of the cat, and came +within half a yard of her; whereupon she drew herself back, as if she +were more afraid of me: I had less apprehension concerning the dogs, +whereof three or four came into the room, as it is usual in farmers’ +houses; one of which was a mastiff, equal in bulk to four elephants, +and another a greyhound, somewhat taller than the mastiff, but not so +large. + +When dinner was almost done, the nurse came in with a child of a year +old in her arms, who immediately spied me, and began a squall that you +might have heard from London Bridge to Chelsea, after the usual oratory +of infants, to get me for a plaything. The mother, out of pure +indulgence, took me up, and put me towards the child, who presently +seized me by the middle, and got my head into his mouth, where I roared +so loud that the urchin was frighted, and let me drop, and I should +infallibly have broke my neck, if the mother had not held her apron +under me. The nurse, to quiet her babe, made use of a rattle which was +a kind of hollow vessel filled with great stones, and fastened by a +cable to the child’s waist: but all in vain; so that she was forced to +apply the last remedy by giving it suck. I must confess no object ever +disgusted me so much as the sight of her monstrous breast, which I +cannot tell what to compare with, so as to give the curious reader an +idea of its bulk, shape, and colour. It stood prominent six feet, and +could not be less than sixteen in circumference. The nipple was about +half the bigness of my head, and the hue both of that and the dug, so +varied with spots, pimples, and freckles, that nothing could appear +more nauseous: for I had a near sight of her, she sitting down, the +more conveniently to give suck, and I standing on the table. This made +me reflect upon the fair skins of our English ladies, who appear so +beautiful to us, only because they are of our own size, and their +defects not to be seen but through a magnifying glass; where we find by +experiment that the smoothest and whitest skins look rough, and coarse, +and ill-coloured. + +I remember when I was at Lilliput, the complexion of those diminutive +people appeared to me the fairest in the world; and talking upon this +subject with a person of learning there, who was an intimate friend of +mine, he said that my face appeared much fairer and smoother when he +looked on me from the ground, than it did upon a nearer view, when I +took him up in my hand, and brought him close, which he confessed was +at first a very shocking sight. He said, “he could discover great holes +in my skin; that the stumps of my beard were ten times stronger than +the bristles of a boar, and my complexion made up of several colours +altogether disagreeable:” although I must beg leave to say for myself, +that I am as fair as most of my sex and country, and very little +sunburnt by all my travels. On the other side, discoursing of the +ladies in that emperor’s court, he used to tell me, “one had freckles; +another too wide a mouth; a third too large a nose;” nothing of which I +was able to distinguish. I confess this reflection was obvious enough; +which, however, I could not forbear, lest the reader might think those +vast creatures were actually deformed: for I must do them the justice +to say, they are a comely race of people, and particularly the features +of my master’s countenance, although he was but a farmer, when I beheld +him from the height of sixty feet, appeared very well proportioned. + +When dinner was done, my master went out to his labourers, and, as I +could discover by his voice and gesture, gave his wife strict charge to +take care of me. I was very much tired, and disposed to sleep, which my +mistress perceiving, she put me on her own bed, and covered me with a +clean white handkerchief, but larger and coarser than the mainsail of a +man of war. + +I slept about two hours, and dreamt I was at home with my wife and +children, which aggravated my sorrows when I awaked, and found myself +alone in a vast room, between two and three hundred feet wide, and +above two hundred high, lying in a bed twenty yards wide. My mistress +was gone about her household affairs, and had locked me in. The bed was +eight yards from the floor. Some natural necessities required me to get +down; I durst not presume to call; and if I had, it would have been in +vain, with such a voice as mine, at so great a distance from the room +where I lay to the kitchen where the family kept. While I was under +these circumstances, two rats crept up the curtains, and ran smelling +backwards and forwards on the bed. One of them came up almost to my +face, whereupon I rose in a fright, and drew out my hanger to defend +myself. These horrible animals had the boldness to attack me on both +sides, and one of them held his forefeet at my collar; but I had the +good fortune to rip up his belly before he could do me any mischief. He +fell down at my feet; and the other, seeing the fate of his comrade, +made his escape, but not without one good wound on the back, which I +gave him as he fled, and made the blood run trickling from him. After +this exploit, I walked gently to and fro on the bed, to recover my +breath and loss of spirits. These creatures were of the size of a large +mastiff, but infinitely more nimble and fierce; so that if I had taken +off my belt before I went to sleep, I must have infallibly been torn to +pieces and devoured. I measured the tail of the dead rat, and found it +to be two yards long, wanting an inch; but it went against my stomach +to drag the carcass off the bed, where it lay still bleeding; I +observed it had yet some life, but with a strong slash across the neck, +I thoroughly despatched it. + +Soon after my mistress came into the room, who seeing me all bloody, +ran and took me up in her hand. I pointed to the dead rat, smiling, and +making other signs to show I was not hurt; whereat she was extremely +rejoiced, calling the maid to take up the dead rat with a pair of +tongs, and throw it out of the window. Then she set me on a table, +where I showed her my hanger all bloody, and wiping it on the lappet of +my coat, returned it to the scabbard. I was pressed to do more than one +thing which another could not do for me, and therefore endeavoured to +make my mistress understand, that I desired to be set down on the +floor; which after she had done, my bashfulness would not suffer me to +express myself farther, than by pointing to the door, and bowing +several times. The good woman, with much difficulty, at last perceived +what I would be at, and taking me up again in her hand, walked into the +garden, where she set me down. I went on one side about two hundred +yards, and beckoning to her not to look or to follow me, I hid myself +between two leaves of sorrel, and there discharged the necessities of +nature. + +I hope the gentle reader will excuse me for dwelling on these and the +like particulars, which, however insignificant they may appear to +groveling vulgar minds, yet will certainly help a philosopher to +enlarge his thoughts and imagination, and apply them to the benefit of +public as well as private life, which was my sole design in presenting +this and other accounts of my travels to the world; wherein I have been +chiefly studious of truth, without affecting any ornaments of learning +or of style. But the whole scene of this voyage made so strong an +impression on my mind, and is so deeply fixed in my memory, that, in +committing it to paper I did not omit one material circumstance: +however, upon a strict review, I blotted out several passages of less +moment which were in my first copy, for fear of being censured as +tedious and trifling, whereof travellers are often, perhaps not without +justice, accused. + + +CHAPTER II. + +A description of the farmer’s daughter. The author carried to a +market-town, and then to the metropolis. The particulars of his +journey. + + +My mistress had a daughter of nine years old, a child of towardly parts +for her age, very dexterous at her needle, and skilful in dressing her +baby. Her mother and she contrived to fit up the baby’s cradle for me +against night: the cradle was put into a small drawer of a cabinet, and +the drawer placed upon a hanging shelf for fear of the rats. This was +my bed all the time I staid with those people, though made more +convenient by degrees, as I began to learn their language and make my +wants known. This young girl was so handy, that after I had once or +twice pulled off my clothes before her, she was able to dress and +undress me, though I never gave her that trouble when she would let me +do either myself. She made me seven shirts, and some other linen, of as +fine cloth as could be got, which indeed was coarser than sackcloth; +and these she constantly washed for me with her own hands. She was +likewise my school-mistress, to teach me the language: when I pointed +to any thing, she told me the name of it in her own tongue, so that in +a few days I was able to call for whatever I had a mind to. She was +very good-natured, and not above forty feet high, being little for her +age. She gave me the name of _Grildrig_, which the family took up, and +afterwards the whole kingdom. The word imports what the Latins call +_nanunculus_, the Italians _homunceletino_, and the English _mannikin_. +To her I chiefly owe my preservation in that country: we never parted +while I was there; I called her my _Glumdalclitch_, or little nurse; +and should be guilty of great ingratitude, if I omitted this honourable +mention of her care and affection towards me, which I heartily wish it +lay in my power to requite as she deserves, instead of being the +innocent, but unhappy instrument of her disgrace, as I have too much +reason to fear. + +It now began to be known and talked of in the neighbourhood, that my +master had found a strange animal in the field, about the bigness of a +_splacnuck_, but exactly shaped in every part like a human creature; +which it likewise imitated in all its actions; seemed to speak in a +little language of its own, had already learned several words of +theirs, went erect upon two legs, was tame and gentle, would come when +it was called, do whatever it was bid, had the finest limbs in the +world, and a complexion fairer than a nobleman’s daughter of three +years old. Another farmer, who lived hard by, and was a particular +friend of my master, came on a visit on purpose to inquire into the +truth of this story. I was immediately produced, and placed upon a +table, where I walked as I was commanded, drew my hanger, put it up +again, made my reverence to my master’s guest, asked him in his own +language how he did, and told him _he was welcome_, just as my little +nurse had instructed me. This man, who was old and dim-sighted, put on +his spectacles to behold me better; at which I could not forbear +laughing very heartily, for his eyes appeared like the full moon +shining into a chamber at two windows. Our people, who discovered the +cause of my mirth, bore me company in laughing, at which the old fellow +was fool enough to be angry and out of countenance. He had the +character of a great miser; and, to my misfortune, he well deserved it, +by the cursed advice he gave my master, to show me as a sight upon a +market-day in the next town, which was half an hour’s riding, about +two-and-twenty miles from our house. I guessed there was some mischief +when I observed my master and his friend whispering together, sometimes +pointing at me; and my fears made me fancy that I overheard and +understood some of their words. But the next morning Glumdalclitch, my +little nurse, told me the whole matter, which she had cunningly picked +out from her mother. The poor girl laid me on her bosom, and fell a +weeping with shame and grief. She apprehended some mischief would +happen to me from rude vulgar folks, who might squeeze me to death, or +break one of my limbs by taking me in their hands. She had also +observed how modest I was in my nature, how nicely I regarded my +honour, and what an indignity I should conceive it, to be exposed for +money as a public spectacle, to the meanest of the people. She said, +her papa and mamma had promised that Grildrig should be hers; but now +she found they meant to serve her as they did last year, when they +pretended to give her a lamb, and yet, as soon as it was fat, sold it +to a butcher. For my own part, I may truly affirm, that I was less +concerned than my nurse. I had a strong hope, which never left me, that +I should one day recover my liberty: and as to the ignominy of being +carried about for a monster, I considered myself to be a perfect +stranger in the country, and that such a misfortune could never be +charged upon me as a reproach, if ever I should return to England, +since the king of Great Britain himself, in my condition, must have +undergone the same distress. + +My master, pursuant to the advice of his friend, carried me in a box +the next market-day to the neighbouring town, and took along with him +his little daughter, my nurse, upon a pillion behind him. The box was +close on every side, with a little door for me to go in and out, and a +few gimlet holes to let in air. The girl had been so careful as to put +the quilt of her baby’s bed into it, for me to lie down on. However, I +was terribly shaken and discomposed in this journey, though it was but +of half an hour: for the horse went about forty feet at every step and +trotted so high, that the agitation was equal to the rising and falling +of a ship in a great storm, but much more frequent. Our journey was +somewhat farther than from London to St. Alban’s. My master alighted at +an inn which he used to frequent; and after consulting a while with the +inn-keeper, and making some necessary preparations, he hired the +_grultrud_, or crier, to give notice through the town of a strange +creature to be seen at the sign of the Green Eagle, not so big as a +_splacnuck_ (an animal in that country very finely shaped, about six +feet long,) and in every part of the body resembling a human creature, +could speak several words, and perform a hundred diverting tricks. + +I was placed upon a table in the largest room of the inn, which might +be near three hundred feet square. My little nurse stood on a low stool +close to the table, to take care of me, and direct what I should do. My +master, to avoid a crowd, would suffer only thirty people at a time to +see me. I walked about on the table as the girl commanded; she asked me +questions, as far as she knew my understanding of the language reached, +and I answered them as loud as I could. I turned about several times to +the company, paid my humble respects, said _they were welcome_, and +used some other speeches I had been taught. I took up a thimble filled +with liquor, which Glumdalclitch had given me for a cup, and drank +their health, I drew out my hanger, and flourished with it after the +manner of fencers in England. My nurse gave me a part of a straw, which +I exercised as a pike, having learnt the art in my youth. I was that +day shown to twelve sets of company, and as often forced to act over +again the same fopperies, till I was half dead with weariness and +vexation; for those who had seen me made such wonderful reports, that +the people were ready to break down the doors to come in. My master, +for his own interest, would not suffer any one to touch me except my +nurse; and to prevent danger, benches were set round the table at such +a distance as to put me out of every body’s reach. However, an unlucky +school-boy aimed a hazel nut directly at my head, which very narrowly +missed me; otherwise it came with so much violence, that it would have +infallibly knocked out my brains, for it was almost as large as a small +pumpkin, but I had the satisfaction to see the young rogue well beaten, +and turned out of the room. + +My master gave public notice that he would show me again the next +market-day; and in the meantime he prepared a convenient vehicle for +me, which he had reason enough to do; for I was so tired with my first +journey, and with entertaining company for eight hours together, that I +could hardly stand upon my legs, or speak a word. It was at least three +days before I recovered my strength; and that I might have no rest at +home, all the neighbouring gentlemen from a hundred miles round, +hearing of my fame, came to see me at my master’s own house. There +could not be fewer than thirty persons with their wives and children +(for the country is very populous;) and my master demanded the rate of +a full room whenever he showed me at home, although it were only to a +single family; so that for some time I had but little ease every day of +the week (except Wednesday, which is their Sabbath,) although I were +not carried to the town. + +My master, finding how profitable I was likely to be, resolved to carry +me to the most considerable cities of the kingdom. Having therefore +provided himself with all things necessary for a long journey, and +settled his affairs at home, he took leave of his wife, and upon the +17th of August, 1703, about two months after my arrival, we set out for +the metropolis, situated near the middle of that empire, and about +three thousand miles distance from our house. My master made his +daughter Glumdalclitch ride behind him. She carried me on her lap, in a +box tied about her waist. The girl had lined it on all sides with the +softest cloth she could get, well quilted underneath, furnished it with +her baby’s bed, provided me with linen and other necessaries, and made +everything as convenient as she could. We had no other company but a +boy of the house, who rode after us with the luggage. + +My master’s design was to show me in all the towns by the way, and to +step out of the road for fifty or a hundred miles, to any village, or +person of quality’s house, where he might expect custom. We made easy +journeys, of not above seven or eight score miles a day; for +Glumdalclitch, on purpose to spare me, complained she was tired with +the trotting of the horse. She often took me out of my box, at my own +desire, to give me air, and show me the country, but always held me +fast by a leading-string. We passed over five or six rivers, many +degrees broader and deeper than the Nile or the Ganges: and there was +hardly a rivulet so small as the Thames at London Bridge. We were ten +weeks in our journey, and I was shown in eighteen large towns, besides +many villages, and private families. + +On the 26th day of October we arrived at the metropolis, called in +their language _Lorbrulgrud_, or Pride of the Universe. My master took +a lodging in the principal street of the city, not far from the royal +palace, and put out bills in the usual form, containing an exact +description of my person and parts. He hired a large room between three +and four hundred feet wide. He provided a table sixty feet in diameter, +upon which I was to act my part, and pallisadoed it round three feet +from the edge, and as many high, to prevent my falling over. I was +shown ten times a day, to the wonder and satisfaction of all people. I +could now speak the language tolerably well, and perfectly understood +every word, that was spoken to me. Besides, I had learnt their +alphabet, and could make a shift to explain a sentence here and there; +for Glumdalclitch had been my instructor while we were at home, and at +leisure hours during our journey. She carried a little book in her +pocket, not much larger than a Sanson’s Atlas; it was a common treatise +for the use of young girls, giving a short account of their religion: +out of this she taught me my letters, and interpreted the words. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The author sent for to court. The queen buys him of his master the +farmer, and presents him to the king. He disputes with his majesty’s +great scholars. An apartment at court provided for the author. He is in +high favour with the queen. He stands up for the honour of his own +country. His quarrels with the queen’s dwarf. + + +The frequent labours I underwent every day, made, in a few weeks, a +very considerable change in my health: the more my master got by me, +the more insatiable he grew. I had quite lost my stomach, and was +almost reduced to a skeleton. The farmer observed it, and concluding I +must soon die, resolved to make as good a hand of me as he could. While +he was thus reasoning and resolving with himself, a _sardral_, or +gentleman-usher, came from court, commanding my master to carry me +immediately thither for the diversion of the queen and her ladies. Some +of the latter had already been to see me, and reported strange things +of my beauty, behaviour, and good sense. Her majesty, and those who +attended her, were beyond measure delighted with my demeanour. I fell +on my knees, and begged the honour of kissing her imperial foot; but +this gracious princess held out her little finger towards me, after I +was set on the table, which I embraced in both my arms, and put the tip +of it with the utmost respect to my lip. She made me some general +questions about my country and my travels, which I answered as +distinctly, and in as few words as I could. She asked, “whether I could +be content to live at court?” I bowed down to the board of the table, +and humbly answered “that I was my master’s slave: but, if I were at my +own disposal, I should be proud to devote my life to her majesty’s +service.” She then asked my master, “whether he was willing to sell me +at a good price?” He, who apprehended I could not live a month, was +ready enough to part with me, and demanded a thousand pieces of gold, +which were ordered him on the spot, each piece being about the bigness +of eight hundred moidores; but allowing for the proportion of all +things between that country and Europe, and the high price of gold +among them, was hardly so great a sum as a thousand guineas would be in +England. I then said to the queen, “since I was now her majesty’s most +humble creature and vassal, I must beg the favour, that Glumdalclitch, +who had always tended me with so much care and kindness, and understood +to do it so well, might be admitted into her service, and continue to +be my nurse and instructor.” + +Her majesty agreed to my petition, and easily got the farmer’s consent, +who was glad enough to have his daughter preferred at court, and the +poor girl herself was not able to hide her joy. My late master +withdrew, bidding me farewell, and saying he had left me in a good +service; to which I replied not a word, only making him a slight bow. + +The queen observed my coldness; and, when the farmer was gone out of +the apartment, asked me the reason. I made bold to tell her majesty, +“that I owed no other obligation to my late master, than his not +dashing out the brains of a poor harmless creature, found by chance in +his fields: which obligation was amply recompensed, by the gain he had +made in showing me through half the kingdom, and the price he had now +sold me for. That the life I had since led was laborious enough to kill +an animal of ten times my strength. That my health was much impaired, +by the continual drudgery of entertaining the rabble every hour of the +day; and that, if my master had not thought my life in danger, her +majesty would not have got so cheap a bargain. But as I was out of all +fear of being ill-treated under the protection of so great and good an +empress, the ornament of nature, the darling of the world, the delight +of her subjects, the phœnix of the creation, so I hoped my late +master’s apprehensions would appear to be groundless; for I already +found my spirits revive, by the influence of her most august presence.” + +This was the sum of my speech, delivered with great improprieties and +hesitation. The latter part was altogether framed in the style peculiar +to that people, whereof I learned some phrases from Glumdalclitch, +while she was carrying me to court. + +The queen, giving great allowance for my defectiveness in speaking, +was, however, surprised at so much wit and good sense in so diminutive +an animal. She took me in her own hand, and carried me to the king, who +was then retired to his cabinet. His majesty, a prince of much gravity +and austere countenance, not well observing my shape at first view, +asked the queen after a cold manner “how long it was since she grew +fond of a _splacnuck_?” for such it seems he took me to be, as I lay +upon my breast in her majesty’s right hand. But this princess, who has +an infinite deal of wit and humour, set me gently on my feet upon the +scrutoire, and commanded me to give his majesty an account of myself, +which I did in a very few words: and Glumdalclitch who attended at the +cabinet door, and could not endure I should be out of her sight, being +admitted, confirmed all that had passed from my arrival at her father’s +house. + +The king, although he be as learned a person as any in his dominions, +had been educated in the study of philosophy, and particularly +mathematics; yet when he observed my shape exactly, and saw me walk +erect, before I began to speak, conceived I might be a piece of +clock-work (which is in that country arrived to a very great +perfection) contrived by some ingenious artist. But when he heard my +voice, and found what I delivered to be regular and rational, he could +not conceal his astonishment. He was by no means satisfied with the +relation I gave him of the manner I came into his kingdom, but thought +it a story concerted between Glumdalclitch and her father, who had +taught me a set of words to make me sell at a better price. Upon this +imagination, he put several other questions to me, and still received +rational answers: no otherwise defective than by a foreign accent, and +an imperfect knowledge in the language, with some rustic phrases which +I had learned at the farmer’s house, and did not suit the polite style +of a court. + +His majesty sent for three great scholars, who were then in their +weekly waiting, according to the custom in that country. These +gentlemen, after they had a while examined my shape with much nicety, +were of different opinions concerning me. They all agreed that I could +not be produced according to the regular laws of nature, because I was +not framed with a capacity of preserving my life, either by swiftness, +or climbing of trees, or digging holes in the earth. They observed by +my teeth, which they viewed with great exactness, that I was a +carnivorous animal; yet most quadrupeds being an overmatch for me, and +field mice, with some others, too nimble, they could not imagine how I +should be able to support myself, unless I fed upon snails and other +insects, which they offered, by many learned arguments, to evince that +I could not possibly do. One of these virtuosi seemed to think that I +might be an embryo, or abortive birth. But this opinion was rejected by +the other two, who observed my limbs to be perfect and finished; and +that I had lived several years, as it was manifest from my beard, the +stumps whereof they plainly discovered through a magnifying glass. They +would not allow me to be a dwarf, because my littleness was beyond all +degrees of comparison; for the queen’s favourite dwarf, the smallest +ever known in that kingdom, was near thirty feet high. After much +debate, they concluded unanimously, that I was only _relplum scalcath_, +which is interpreted literally _lusus naturæ_; a determination exactly +agreeable to the modern philosophy of Europe, whose professors, +disdaining the old evasion of occult causes, whereby the followers of +Aristotle endeavoured in vain to disguise their ignorance, have +invented this wonderful solution of all difficulties, to the +unspeakable advancement of human knowledge. + +After this decisive conclusion, I entreated to be heard a word or two. +I applied myself to the king, and assured his majesty, “that I came +from a country which abounded with several millions of both sexes, and +of my own stature; where the animals, trees, and houses, were all in +proportion, and where, by consequence, I might be as able to defend +myself, and to find sustenance, as any of his majesty’s subjects could +do here; which I took for a full answer to those gentlemen’s +arguments.” To this they only replied with a smile of contempt, saying, +“that the farmer had instructed me very well in my lesson.” The king, +who had a much better understanding, dismissing his learned men, sent +for the farmer, who by good fortune was not yet gone out of town. +Having therefore first examined him privately, and then confronted him +with me and the young girl, his majesty began to think that what we +told him might possibly be true. He desired the queen to order that a +particular care should be taken of me; and was of opinion that +Glumdalclitch should still continue in her office of tending me, +because he observed we had a great affection for each other. A +convenient apartment was provided for her at court: she had a sort of +governess appointed to take care of her education, a maid to dress her, +and two other servants for menial offices; but the care of me was +wholly appropriated to herself. The queen commanded her own +cabinet-maker to contrive a box, that might serve me for a bedchamber, +after the model that Glumdalclitch and I should agree upon. This man +was a most ingenious artist, and according to my direction, in three +weeks finished for me a wooden chamber of sixteen feet square, and +twelve high, with sash-windows, a door, and two closets, like a London +bed-chamber. The board, that made the ceiling, was to be lifted up and +down by two hinges, to put in a bed ready furnished by her majesty’s +upholsterer, which Glumdalclitch took out every day to air, made it +with her own hands, and letting it down at night, locked up the roof +over me. A nice workman, who was famous for little curiosities, +undertook to make me two chairs, with backs and frames, of a substance +not unlike ivory, and two tables, with a cabinet to put my things in. +The room was quilted on all sides, as well as the floor and the +ceiling, to prevent any accident from the carelessness of those who +carried me, and to break the force of a jolt, when I went in a coach. I +desired a lock for my door, to prevent rats and mice from coming in. +The smith, after several attempts, made the smallest that ever was seen +among them, for I have known a larger at the gate of a gentleman’s +house in England. I made a shift to keep the key in a pocket of my own, +fearing Glumdalclitch might lose it. The queen likewise ordered the +thinnest silks that could be gotten, to make me clothes, not much +thicker than an English blanket, very cumbersome till I was accustomed +to them. They were after the fashion of the kingdom, partly resembling +the Persian, and partly the Chinese, and are a very grave and decent +habit. + +The queen became so fond of my company, that she could not dine without +me. I had a table placed upon the same at which her majesty ate, just +at her left elbow, and a chair to sit on. Glumdalclitch stood on a +stool on the floor near my table, to assist and take care of me. I had +an entire set of silver dishes and plates, and other necessaries, +which, in proportion to those of the queen, were not much bigger than +what I have seen in a London toy-shop for the furniture of a +baby-house: these my little nurse kept in her pocket in a silver box, +and gave me at meals as I wanted them, always cleaning them herself. No +person dined with the queen but the two princesses royal, the eldest +sixteen years old, and the younger at that time thirteen and a month. +Her majesty used to put a bit of meat upon one of my dishes, out of +which I carved for myself, and her diversion was to see me eat in +miniature: for the queen (who had indeed but a weak stomach) took up, +at one mouthful, as much as a dozen English farmers could eat at a +meal, which to me was for some time a very nauseous sight. She would +craunch the wing of a lark, bones and all, between her teeth, although +it were nine times as large as that of a full-grown turkey; and put a +bit of bread into her mouth as big as two twelve-penny loaves. She +drank out of a golden cup, above a hogshead at a draught. Her knives +were twice as long as a scythe, set straight upon the handle. The +spoons, forks, and other instruments, were all in the same proportion. +I remember when Glumdalclitch carried me, out of curiosity, to see some +of the tables at court, where ten or a dozen of those enormous knives +and forks were lifted up together, I thought I had never till then +beheld so terrible a sight. + +It is the custom, that every Wednesday (which, as I have observed, is +their Sabbath) the king and queen, with the royal issue of both sexes, +dine together in the apartment of his majesty, to whom I was now become +a great favourite; and at these times, my little chair and table were +placed at his left hand, before one of the salt-cellars. This prince +took a pleasure in conversing with me, inquiring into the manners, +religion, laws, government, and learning of Europe; wherein I gave him +the best account I was able. His apprehension was so clear, and his +judgment so exact, that he made very wise reflections and observations +upon all I said. But I confess, that, after I had been a little too +copious in talking of my own beloved country, of our trade and wars by +sea and land, of our schisms in religion, and parties in the state; the +prejudices of his education prevailed so far, that he could not forbear +taking me up in his right hand, and stroking me gently with the other, +after a hearty fit of laughing, asked me, “whether I was a whig or +tory?” Then turning to his first minister, who waited behind him with a +white staff, near as tall as the mainmast of the Royal Sovereign, he +observed “how contemptible a thing was human grandeur, which could be +mimicked by such diminutive insects as I: and yet,” says he, “I dare +engage these creatures have their titles and distinctions of honour; +they contrive little nests and burrows, that they call houses and +cities; they make a figure in dress and equipage; they love, they +fight, they dispute, they cheat, they betray!” And thus he continued +on, while my colour came and went several times, with indignation, to +hear our noble country, the mistress of arts and arms, the scourge of +France, the arbitress of Europe, the seat of virtue, piety, honour, and +truth, the pride and envy of the world, so contemptuously treated. + +But as I was not in a condition to resent injuries, so upon mature +thoughts I began to doubt whether I was injured or no. For, after +having been accustomed several months to the sight and converse of this +people, and observed every object upon which I cast my eyes to be of +proportionable magnitude, the horror I had at first conceived from +their bulk and aspect was so far worn off, that if I had then beheld a +company of English lords and ladies in their finery and birth-day +clothes, acting their several parts in the most courtly manner of +strutting, and bowing, and prating, to say the truth, I should have +been strongly tempted to laugh as much at them as the king and his +grandees did at me. Neither, indeed, could I forbear smiling at myself, +when the queen used to place me upon her hand towards a looking-glass, +by which both our persons appeared before me in full view together; and +there could be nothing more ridiculous than the comparison; so that I +really began to imagine myself dwindled many degrees below my usual +size. + +Nothing angered and mortified me so much as the queen’s dwarf; who +being of the lowest stature that was ever in that country (for I verily +think he was not full thirty feet high), became so insolent at seeing a +creature so much beneath him, that he would always affect to swagger +and look big as he passed by me in the queen’s antechamber, while I was +standing on some table talking with the lords or ladies of the court, +and he seldom failed of a smart word or two upon my littleness; against +which I could only revenge myself by calling him brother, challenging +him to wrestle, and such repartees as are usually in the mouths of +court pages. One day, at dinner, this malicious little cub was so +nettled with something I had said to him, that, raising himself upon +the frame of her majesty’s chair, he took me up by the middle, as I was +sitting down, not thinking any harm, and let me drop into a large +silver bowl of cream, and then ran away as fast as he could. I fell +over head and ears, and, if I had not been a good swimmer, it might +have gone very hard with me; for Glumdalclitch in that instant happened +to be at the other end of the room, and the queen was in such a fright, +that she wanted presence of mind to assist me. But my little nurse ran +to my relief, and took me out, after I had swallowed above a quart of +cream. I was put to bed: however, I received no other damage than the +loss of a suit of clothes, which was utterly spoiled. The dwarf was +soundly whipt, and as a farther punishment, forced to drink up the bowl +of cream into which he had thrown me: neither was he ever restored to +favour; for soon after the queen bestowed him on a lady of high +quality, so that I saw him no more, to my very great satisfaction; for +I could not tell to what extremities such a malicious urchin might have +carried his resentment. + +He had before served me a scurvy trick, which set the queen a-laughing, +although at the same time she was heartily vexed, and would have +immediately cashiered him, if I had not been so generous as to +intercede. Her majesty had taken a marrow-bone upon her plate, and, +after knocking out the marrow, placed the bone again in the dish erect, +as it stood before; the dwarf, watching his opportunity, while +Glumdalclitch was gone to the side-board, mounted the stool that she +stood on to take care of me at meals, took me up in both hands, and +squeezing my legs together, wedged them into the marrow bone above my +waist, where I stuck for some time, and made a very ridiculous figure. +I believe it was near a minute before any one knew what was become of +me; for I thought it below me to cry out. But, as princes seldom get +their meat hot, my legs were not scalded, only my stockings and +breeches in a sad condition. The dwarf, at my entreaty, had no other +punishment than a sound whipping. + +I was frequently rallied by the queen upon account of my fearfulness; +and she used to ask me whether the people of my country were as great +cowards as myself? The occasion was this: the kingdom is much pestered +with flies in summer; and these odious insects, each of them as big as +a Dunstable lark, hardly gave me any rest while I sat at dinner, with +their continual humming and buzzing about mine ears. They would +sometimes alight upon my victuals, and leave their loathsome excrement, +or spawn behind, which to me was very visible, though not to the +natives of that country, whose large optics were not so acute as mine, +in viewing smaller objects. Sometimes they would fix upon my nose, or +forehead, where they stung me to the quick, smelling very offensively; +and I could easily trace that viscous matter, which, our naturalists +tell us, enables those creatures to walk with their feet upwards upon a +ceiling. I had much ado to defend myself against these detestable +animals, and could not forbear starting when they came on my face. It +was the common practice of the dwarf, to catch a number of these +insects in his hand, as schoolboys do among us, and let them out +suddenly under my nose, on purpose to frighten me, and divert the +queen. My remedy was to cut them in pieces with my knife, as they flew +in the air, wherein my dexterity was much admired. + +I remember, one morning, when Glumdalclitch had set me in a box upon a +window, as she usually did in fair days to give me air (for I durst not +venture to let the box be hung on a nail out of the window, as we do +with cages in England), after I had lifted up one of my sashes, and sat +down at my table to eat a piece of sweet cake for my breakfast, above +twenty wasps, allured by the smell, came flying into the room, humming +louder than the drones of as many bagpipes. Some of them seized my +cake, and carried it piecemeal away; others flew about my head and +face, confounding me with the noise, and putting me in the utmost +terror of their stings. However, I had the courage to rise and draw my +hanger, and attack them in the air. I dispatched four of them, but the +rest got away, and I presently shut my window. These insects were as +large as partridges: I took out their stings, found them an inch and a +half long, and as sharp as needles. I carefully preserved them all; and +having since shown them, with some other curiosities, in several parts +of Europe, upon my return to England I gave three of them to Gresham +College, and kept the fourth for myself. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The country described. A proposal for correcting modern maps. The +king’s palace; and some account of the metropolis. The author’s way of +travelling. The chief temple described. + + +I now intend to give the reader a short description of this country, as +far as I travelled in it, which was not above two thousand miles round +Lorbrulgrud, the metropolis. For the queen, whom I always attended, +never went farther when she accompanied the king in his progresses, and +there staid till his majesty returned from viewing his frontiers. The +whole extent of this prince’s dominions reaches about six thousand +miles in length, and from three to five in breadth: whence I cannot but +conclude, that our geographers of Europe are in a great error, by +supposing nothing but sea between Japan and California; for it was ever +my opinion, that there must be a balance of earth to counterpoise the +great continent of Tartary; and therefore they ought to correct their +maps and charts, by joining this vast tract of land to the north-west +parts of America, wherein I shall be ready to lend them my assistance. + +The kingdom is a peninsula, terminated to the north-east by a ridge of +mountains thirty miles high, which are altogether impassable, by reason +of the volcanoes upon the tops: neither do the most learned know what +sort of mortals inhabit beyond those mountains, or whether they be +inhabited at all. On the three other sides, it is bounded by the ocean. +There is not one seaport in the whole kingdom: and those parts of the +coasts into which the rivers issue, are so full of pointed rocks, and +the sea generally so rough, that there is no venturing with the +smallest of their boats; so that these people are wholly excluded from +any commerce with the rest of the world. But the large rivers are full +of vessels, and abound with excellent fish; for they seldom get any +from the sea, because the sea fish are of the same size with those in +Europe, and consequently not worth catching; whereby it is manifest, +that nature, in the production of plants and animals of so +extraordinary a bulk, is wholly confined to this continent, of which I +leave the reasons to be determined by philosophers. However, now and +then they take a whale that happens to be dashed against the rocks, +which the common people feed on heartily. These whales I have known so +large, that a man could hardly carry one upon his shoulders; and +sometimes, for curiosity, they are brought in hampers to Lorbrulgrud; I +saw one of them in a dish at the king’s table, which passed for a +rarity, but I did not observe he was fond of it; for I think, indeed, +the bigness disgusted him, although I have seen one somewhat larger in +Greenland. + +The country is well inhabited, for it contains fifty-one cities, near a +hundred walled towns, and a great number of villages. To satisfy my +curious reader, it may be sufficient to describe Lorbrulgrud. This city +stands upon almost two equal parts, on each side the river that passes +through. It contains above eighty thousand houses, and about six +hundred thousand inhabitants. It is in length three _glomglungs_ (which +make about fifty-four English miles,) and two and a half in breadth; as +I measured it myself in the royal map made by the king’s order, which +was laid on the ground on purpose for me, and extended a hundred feet: +I paced the diameter and circumference several times barefoot, and, +computing by the scale, measured it pretty exactly. + +The king’s palace is no regular edifice, but a heap of buildings, about +seven miles round: the chief rooms are generally two hundred and forty +feet high, and broad and long in proportion. A coach was allowed to +Glumdalclitch and me, wherein her governess frequently took her out to +see the town, or go among the shops; and I was always of the party, +carried in my box; although the girl, at my own desire, would often +take me out, and hold me in her hand, that I might more conveniently +view the houses and the people, as we passed along the streets. I +reckoned our coach to be about a square of Westminster-hall, but not +altogether so high: however, I cannot be very exact. One day the +governess ordered our coachman to stop at several shops, where the +beggars, watching their opportunity, crowded to the sides of the coach, +and gave me the most horrible spectacle that ever a European eye +beheld. There was a woman with a cancer in her breast, swelled to a +monstrous size, full of holes, in two or three of which I could have +easily crept, and covered my whole body. There was a fellow with a wen +in his neck, larger than five wool-packs; and another, with a couple of +wooden legs, each about twenty feet high. But the most hateful sight of +all, was the lice crawling on their clothes. I could see distinctly the +limbs of these vermin with my naked eye, much better than those of a +European louse through a microscope, and their snouts with which they +rooted like swine. They were the first I had ever beheld, and I should +have been curious enough to dissect one of them, if I had had proper +instruments, which I unluckily left behind me in the ship, although, +indeed, the sight was so nauseous, that it perfectly turned my stomach. + +Besides the large box in which I was usually carried, the queen ordered +a smaller one to be made for me, of about twelve feet square, and ten +high, for the convenience of travelling; because the other was somewhat +too large for Glumdalclitch’s lap, and cumbersome in the coach; it was +made by the same artist, whom I directed in the whole contrivance. This +travelling-closet was an exact square, with a window in the middle of +three of the squares, and each window was latticed with iron wire on +the outside, to prevent accidents in long journeys. On the fourth side, +which had no window, two strong staples were fixed, through which the +person that carried me, when I had a mind to be on horseback, put a +leathern belt, and buckled it about his waist. This was always the +office of some grave trusty servant, in whom I could confide, whether I +attended the king and queen in their progresses, or were disposed to +see the gardens, or pay a visit to some great lady or minister of state +in the court, when Glumdalclitch happened to be out of order; for I +soon began to be known and esteemed among the greatest officers, I +suppose more upon account of their majesties’ favour, than any merit of +my own. In journeys, when I was weary of the coach, a servant on +horseback would buckle on my box, and place it upon a cushion before +him; and there I had a full prospect of the country on three sides, +from my three windows. I had, in this closet, a field-bed and a +hammock, hung from the ceiling, two chairs and a table, neatly screwed +to the floor, to prevent being tossed about by the agitation of the +horse or the coach. And having been long used to sea-voyages, those +motions, although sometimes very violent, did not much discompose me. + +Whenever I had a mind to see the town, it was always in my +travelling-closet; which Glumdalclitch held in her lap in a kind of +open sedan, after the fashion of the country, borne by four men, and +attended by two others in the queen’s livery. The people, who had often +heard of me, were very curious to crowd about the sedan, and the girl +was complaisant enough to make the bearers stop, and to take me in her +hand, that I might be more conveniently seen. + +I was very desirous to see the chief temple, and particularly the tower +belonging to it, which is reckoned the highest in the kingdom. +Accordingly one day my nurse carried me thither, but I may truly say I +came back disappointed; for the height is not above three thousand +feet, reckoning from the ground to the highest pinnacle top; which, +allowing for the difference between the size of those people and us in +Europe, is no great matter for admiration, nor at all equal in +proportion (if I rightly remember) to Salisbury steeple. But, not to +detract from a nation, to which, during my life, I shall acknowledge +myself extremely obliged, it must be allowed, that whatever this famous +tower wants in height, is amply made up in beauty and strength: for the +walls are near a hundred feet thick, built of hewn stone, whereof each +is about forty feet square, and adorned on all sides with statues of +gods and emperors, cut in marble, larger than the life, placed in their +several niches. I measured a little finger which had fallen down from +one of these statues, and lay unperceived among some rubbish, and found +it exactly four feet and an inch in length. Glumdalclitch wrapped it up +in her handkerchief, and carried it home in her pocket, to keep among +other trinkets, of which the girl was very fond, as children at her age +usually are. + +The king’s kitchen is indeed a noble building, vaulted at top, and +about six hundred feet high. The great oven is not so wide, by ten +paces, as the cupola at St. Paul’s: for I measured the latter on +purpose, after my return. But if I should describe the kitchen grate, +the prodigious pots and kettles, the joints of meat turning on the +spits, with many other particulars, perhaps I should be hardly +believed; at least a severe critic would be apt to think I enlarged a +little, as travellers are often suspected to do. To avoid which censure +I fear I have run too much into the other extreme; and that if this +treatise should happen to be translated into the language of +Brobdingnag (which is the general name of that kingdom,) and +transmitted thither, the king and his people would have reason to +complain that I had done them an injury, by a false and diminutive +representation. + +His majesty seldom keeps above six hundred horses in his stables: they +are generally from fifty-four to sixty feet high. But, when he goes +abroad on solemn days, he is attended, for state, by a military guard +of five hundred horse, which, indeed, I thought was the most splendid +sight that could be ever beheld, till I saw part of his army in +battalia, whereof I shall find another occasion to speak. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Several adventures that happened to the author. The execution of a +criminal. The author shows his skill in navigation. + + +I should have lived happy enough in that country, if my littleness had +not exposed me to several ridiculous and troublesome accidents; some of +which I shall venture to relate. Glumdalclitch often carried me into +the gardens of the court in my smaller box, and would sometimes take me +out of it, and hold me in her hand, or set me down to walk. I remember, +before the dwarf left the queen, he followed us one day into those +gardens, and my nurse having set me down, he and I being close +together, near some dwarf apple trees, I must needs show my wit, by a +silly allusion between him and the trees, which happens to hold in +their language as it does in ours. Whereupon, the malicious rogue, +watching his opportunity, when I was walking under one of them, shook +it directly over my head, by which a dozen apples, each of them near as +large as a Bristol barrel, came tumbling about my ears; one of them hit +me on the back as I chanced to stoop, and knocked me down flat on my +face; but I received no other hurt, and the dwarf was pardoned at my +desire, because I had given the provocation. + +Another day, Glumdalclitch left me on a smooth grass-plot to divert +myself, while she walked at some distance with her governess. In the +meantime, there suddenly fell such a violent shower of hail, that I was +immediately by the force of it, struck to the ground: and when I was +down, the hailstones gave me such cruel bangs all over the body, as if +I had been pelted with tennis-balls; however, I made a shift to creep +on all fours, and shelter myself, by lying flat on my face, on the +lee-side of a border of lemon-thyme, but so bruised from head to foot, +that I could not go abroad in ten days. Neither is this at all to be +wondered at, because nature, in that country, observing the same +proportion through all her operations, a hailstone is near eighteen +hundred times as large as one in Europe; which I can assert upon +experience, having been so curious as to weigh and measure them. + +But a more dangerous accident happened to me in the same garden, when +my little nurse, believing she had put me in a secure place (which I +often entreated her to do, that I might enjoy my own thoughts,) and +having left my box at home, to avoid the trouble of carrying it, went +to another part of the garden with her governess and some ladies of her +acquaintance. While she was absent, and out of hearing, a small white +spaniel that belonged to one of the chief gardeners, having got by +accident into the garden, happened to range near the place where I lay: +the dog, following the scent, came directly up, and taking me in his +mouth, ran straight to his master wagging his tail, and set me gently +on the ground. By good fortune he had been so well taught, that I was +carried between his teeth without the least hurt, or even tearing my +clothes. But the poor gardener, who knew me well, and had a great +kindness for me, was in a terrible fright: he gently took me up in both +his hands, and asked me how I did? but I was so amazed and out of +breath, that I could not speak a word. In a few minutes I came to +myself, and he carried me safe to my little nurse, who, by this time, +had returned to the place where she left me, and was in cruel agonies +when I did not appear, nor answer when she called. She severely +reprimanded the gardener on account of his dog. But the thing was +hushed up, and never known at court, for the girl was afraid of the +queen’s anger; and truly, as to myself, I thought it would not be for +my reputation, that such a story should go about. + +This accident absolutely determined Glumdalclitch never to trust me +abroad for the future out of her sight. I had been long afraid of this +resolution, and therefore concealed from her some little unlucky +adventures, that happened in those times when I was left by myself. +Once a kite, hovering over the garden, made a stoop at me, and if I had +not resolutely drawn my hanger, and run under a thick espalier, he +would have certainly carried me away in his talons. Another time, +walking to the top of a fresh mole-hill, I fell to my neck in the hole, +through which that animal had cast up the earth, and coined some lie, +not worth remembering, to excuse myself for spoiling my clothes. I +likewise broke my right shin against the shell of a snail, which I +happened to stumble over, as I was walking alone and thinking on poor +England. + +I cannot tell whether I were more pleased or mortified to observe, in +those solitary walks, that the smaller birds did not appear to be at +all afraid of me, but would hop about within a yard’s distance, looking +for worms and other food, with as much indifference and security as if +no creature at all were near them. I remember, a thrush had the +confidence to snatch out of my hand, with his bill, a piece of cake +that Glumdalclitch had just given me for my breakfast. When I attempted +to catch any of these birds, they would boldly turn against me, +endeavouring to peck my fingers, which I durst not venture within their +reach; and then they would hop back unconcerned, to hunt for worms or +snails, as they did before. But one day, I took a thick cudgel, and +threw it with all my strength so luckily, at a linnet, that I knocked +him down, and seizing him by the neck with both my hands, ran with him +in triumph to my nurse. However, the bird, who had only been stunned, +recovering himself gave me so many boxes with his wings, on both sides +of my head and body, though I held him at arm’s length, and was out of +the reach of his claws, that I was twenty times thinking to let him go. +But I was soon relieved by one of our servants, who wrung off the +bird’s neck, and I had him next day for dinner, by the queen’s command. +This linnet, as near as I can remember, seemed to be somewhat larger +than an English swan. + +The maids of honour often invited Glumdalclitch to their apartments, +and desired she would bring me along with her, on purpose to have the +pleasure of seeing and touching me. They would often strip me naked +from top to toe, and lay me at full length in their bosoms; wherewith I +was much disgusted because, to say the truth, a very offensive smell +came from their skins; which I do not mention, or intend, to the +disadvantage of those excellent ladies, for whom I have all manner of +respect; but I conceive that my sense was more acute in proportion to +my littleness, and that those illustrious persons were no more +disagreeable to their lovers, or to each other, than people of the same +quality are with us in England. And, after all, I found their natural +smell was much more supportable, than when they used perfumes, under +which I immediately swooned away. I cannot forget, that an intimate +friend of mine in Lilliput, took the freedom in a warm day, when I had +used a good deal of exercise, to complain of a strong smell about me, +although I am as little faulty that way, as most of my sex: but I +suppose his faculty of smelling was as nice with regard to me, as mine +was to that of this people. Upon this point, I cannot forbear doing +justice to the queen my mistress, and Glumdalclitch my nurse, whose +persons were as sweet as those of any lady in England. + +That which gave me most uneasiness among these maids of honour (when my +nurse carried me to visit them) was, to see them use me without any +manner of ceremony, like a creature who had no sort of consequence: for +they would strip themselves to the skin, and put on their smocks in my +presence, while I was placed on their toilet, directly before their +naked bodies, which I am sure to me was very far from being a tempting +sight, or from giving me any other emotions than those of horror and +disgust: their skins appeared so coarse and uneven, so variously +coloured, when I saw them near, with a mole here and there as broad as +a trencher, and hairs hanging from it thicker than packthreads, to say +nothing farther concerning the rest of their persons. Neither did they +at all scruple, while I was by, to discharge what they had drank, to +the quantity of at least two hogsheads, in a vessel that held above +three tuns. The handsomest among these maids of honour, a pleasant, +frolicsome girl of sixteen, would sometimes set me astride upon one of +her nipples, with many other tricks, wherein the reader will excuse me +for not being over particular. But I was so much displeased, that I +entreated Glumdalclitch to contrive some excuse for not seeing that +young lady any more. + +One day, a young gentleman, who was nephew to my nurse’s governess, +came and pressed them both to see an execution. It was of a man, who +had murdered one of that gentleman’s intimate acquaintance. +Glumdalclitch was prevailed on to be of the company, very much against +her inclination, for she was naturally tender-hearted: and, as for +myself, although I abhorred such kind of spectacles, yet my curiosity +tempted me to see something that I thought must be extraordinary. The +malefactor was fixed in a chair upon a scaffold erected for that +purpose, and his head cut off at one blow, with a sword of about forty +feet long. The veins and arteries spouted up such a prodigious quantity +of blood, and so high in the air, that the great _jet d’eau_ at +Versailles was not equal to it for the time it lasted: and the head, +when it fell on the scaffold floor, gave such a bounce as made me +start, although I was at least half an English mile distant. + +The queen, who often used to hear me talk of my sea-voyages, and took +all occasions to divert me when I was melancholy, asked me whether I +understood how to handle a sail or an oar, and whether a little +exercise of rowing might not be convenient for my health? I answered, +that I understood both very well: for although my proper employment had +been to be surgeon or doctor to the ship, yet often, upon a pinch, I +was forced to work like a common mariner. But I could not see how this +could be done in their country, where the smallest wherry was equal to +a first-rate man of war among us; and such a boat as I could manage +would never live in any of their rivers. Her majesty said, if I would +contrive a boat, her own joiner should make it, and she would provide a +place for me to sail in. The fellow was an ingenious workman, and by my +instructions, in ten days, finished a pleasure-boat with all its +tackling, able conveniently to hold eight Europeans. When it was +finished, the queen was so delighted, that she ran with it in her lap +to the king, who ordered it to be put into a cistern full of water, +with me in it, by way of trial, where I could not manage my two sculls, +or little oars, for want of room. But the queen had before contrived +another project. She ordered the joiner to make a wooden trough of +three hundred feet long, fifty broad, and eight deep; which, being well +pitched, to prevent leaking, was placed on the floor, along the wall, +in an outer room of the palace. It had a cock near the bottom to let +out the water, when it began to grow stale; and two servants could +easily fill it in half an hour. Here I often used to row for my own +diversion, as well as that of the queen and her ladies, who thought +themselves well entertained with my skill and agility. Sometimes I +would put up my sail, and then my business was only to steer, while the +ladies gave me a gale with their fans; and, when they were weary, some +of their pages would blow my sail forward with their breath, while I +showed my art by steering starboard or larboard as I pleased. When I +had done, Glumdalclitch always carried back my boat into her closet, +and hung it on a nail to dry. + +In this exercise I once met an accident, which had like to have cost me +my life; for, one of the pages having put my boat into the trough, the +governess who attended Glumdalclitch very officiously lifted me up, to +place me in the boat: but I happened to slip through her fingers, and +should infallibly have fallen down forty feet upon the floor, if, by +the luckiest chance in the world, I had not been stopped by a +corking-pin that stuck in the good gentlewoman’s stomacher; the head of +the pin passing between my shirt and the waistband of my breeches, and +thus I was held by the middle in the air, till Glumdalclitch ran to my +relief. + +Another time, one of the servants, whose office it was to fill my +trough every third day with fresh water, was so careless as to let a +huge frog (not perceiving it) slip out of his pail. The frog lay +concealed till I was put into my boat, but then, seeing a +resting-place, climbed up, and made it lean so much on one side, that I +was forced to balance it with all my weight on the other, to prevent +overturning. When the frog was got in, it hopped at once half the +length of the boat, and then over my head, backward and forward, +daubing my face and clothes with its odious slime. The largeness of its +features made it appear the most deformed animal that can be conceived. +However, I desired Glumdalclitch to let me deal with it alone. I banged +it a good while with one of my sculls, and at last forced it to leap +out of the boat. + +But the greatest danger I ever underwent in that kingdom, was from a +monkey, who belonged to one of the clerks of the kitchen. Glumdalclitch +had locked me up in her closet, while she went somewhere upon business, +or a visit. The weather being very warm, the closet-window was left +open, as well as the windows and the door of my bigger box, in which I +usually lived, because of its largeness and conveniency. As I sat +quietly meditating at my table, I heard something bounce in at the +closet-window, and skip about from one side to the other: whereat, +although I was much alarmed, yet I ventured to look out, but not +stirring from my seat; and then I saw this frolicsome animal frisking +and leaping up and down, till at last he came to my box, which he +seemed to view with great pleasure and curiosity, peeping in at the +door and every window. I retreated to the farther corner of my room; or +box; but the monkey looking in at every side, put me in such a fright, +that I wanted presence of mind to conceal myself under the bed, as I +might easily have done. After some time spent in peeping, grinning, and +chattering, he at last espied me; and reaching one of his paws in at +the door, as a cat does when she plays with a mouse, although I often +shifted place to avoid him, he at length seized the lappet of my coat +(which being made of that country silk, was very thick and strong), and +dragged me out. He took me up in his right fore-foot and held me as a +nurse does a child she is going to suckle, just as I have seen the same +sort of creature do with a kitten in Europe; and when I offered to +struggle he squeezed me so hard, that I thought it more prudent to +submit. I have good reason to believe, that he took me for a young one +of his own species, by his often stroking my face very gently with his +other paw. In these diversions he was interrupted by a noise at the +closet door, as if somebody were opening it: whereupon he suddenly +leaped up to the window at which he had come in, and thence upon the +leads and gutters, walking upon three legs, and holding me in the +fourth, till he clambered up to a roof that was next to ours. I heard +Glumdalclitch give a shriek at the moment he was carrying me out. The +poor girl was almost distracted: that quarter of the palace was all in +an uproar; the servants ran for ladders; the monkey was seen by +hundreds in the court, sitting upon the ridge of a building, holding me +like a baby in one of his forepaws, and feeding me with the other, by +cramming into my mouth some victuals he had squeezed out of the bag on +one side of his chaps, and patting me when I would not eat; whereat +many of the rabble below could not forbear laughing; neither do I think +they justly ought to be blamed, for, without question, the sight was +ridiculous enough to every body but myself. Some of the people threw up +stones, hoping to drive the monkey down; but this was strictly +forbidden, or else, very probably, my brains had been dashed out. + +The ladders were now applied, and mounted by several men; which the +monkey observing, and finding himself almost encompassed, not being +able to make speed enough with his three legs, let me drop on a ridge +tile, and made his escape. Here I sat for some time, five hundred yards +from the ground, expecting every moment to be blown down by the wind, +or to fall by my own giddiness, and come tumbling over and over from +the ridge to the eaves; but an honest lad, one of my nurse’s footmen, +climbed up, and putting me into his breeches pocket, brought me down +safe. + +I was almost choked with the filthy stuff the monkey had crammed down +my throat: but my dear little nurse picked it out of my mouth with a +small needle, and then I fell a-vomiting, which gave me great relief. +Yet I was so weak and bruised in the sides with the squeezes given me +by this odious animal, that I was forced to keep my bed a fortnight. +The king, queen, and all the court, sent every day to inquire after my +health; and her majesty made me several visits during my sickness. The +monkey was killed, and an order made, that no such animal should be +kept about the palace. + +When I attended the king after my recovery, to return him thanks for +his favours, he was pleased to rally me a good deal upon this +adventure. He asked me, “what my thoughts and speculations were, while +I lay in the monkey’s paw; how I liked the victuals he gave me; his +manner of feeding; and whether the fresh air on the roof had sharpened +my stomach.” He desired to know, “what I would have done upon such an +occasion in my own country.” I told his majesty, “that in Europe we had +no monkeys, except such as were brought for curiosity from other +places, and so small, that I could deal with a dozen of them together, +if they presumed to attack me. And as for that monstrous animal with +whom I was so lately engaged (it was indeed as large as an elephant), +if my fears had suffered me to think so far as to make use of my +hanger,” (looking fiercely, and clapping my hand on the hilt, as I +spoke) “when he poked his paw into my chamber, perhaps I should have +given him such a wound, as would have made him glad to withdraw it with +more haste than he put it in.” This I delivered in a firm tone, like a +person who was jealous lest his courage should be called in question. +However, my speech produced nothing else beside a loud laughter, which +all the respect due to his majesty from those about him could not make +them contain. This made me reflect, how vain an attempt it is for a man +to endeavour to do himself honour among those who are out of all degree +of equality or comparison with him. And yet I have seen the moral of my +own behaviour very frequent in England since my return; where a little +contemptible varlet, without the least title to birth, person, wit, or +common sense, shall presume to look with importance, and put himself +upon a foot with the greatest persons of the kingdom. + +I was every day furnishing the court with some ridiculous story: and +Glumdalclitch, although she loved me to excess, yet was arch enough to +inform the queen, whenever I committed any folly that she thought would +be diverting to her majesty. The girl, who had been out of order, was +carried by her governess to take the air about an hour’s distance, or +thirty miles from town. They alighted out of the coach near a small +foot-path in a field, and Glumdalclitch setting down my travelling box, +I went out of it to walk. There was a cow-dung in the path, and I must +need try my activity by attempting to leap over it. I took a run, but +unfortunately jumped short, and found myself just in the middle up to +my knees. I waded through with some difficulty, and one of the footmen +wiped me as clean as he could with his handkerchief, for I was filthily +bemired; and my nurse confined me to my box, till we returned home; +where the queen was soon informed of what had passed, and the footmen +spread it about the court: so that all the mirth for some days was at +my expense. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Several contrivances of the author to please the king and queen. He +shows his skill in music. The king inquires into the state of England, +which the author relates to him. The king’s observations thereon. + + +I used to attend the king’s levee once or twice a week, and had often +seen him under the barber’s hand, which indeed was at first very +terrible to behold; for the razor was almost twice as long as an +ordinary scythe. His majesty, according to the custom of the country, +was only shaved twice a week. I once prevailed on the barber to give me +some of the suds or lather, out of which I picked forty or fifty of the +strongest stumps of hair. I then took a piece of fine wood, and cut it +like the back of a comb, making several holes in it at equal distances +with as small a needle as I could get from Glumdalclitch. I fixed in +the stumps so artificially, scraping and sloping them with my knife +toward the points, that I made a very tolerable comb; which was a +seasonable supply, my own being so much broken in the teeth, that it +was almost useless: neither did I know any artist in that country so +nice and exact, as would undertake to make me another. + +And this puts me in mind of an amusement, wherein I spent many of my +leisure hours. I desired the queen’s woman to save for me the combings +of her majesty’s hair, whereof in time I got a good quantity; and +consulting with my friend the cabinet-maker, who had received general +orders to do little jobs for me, I directed him to make two +chair-frames, no larger than those I had in my box, and to bore little +holes with a fine awl, round those parts where I designed the backs and +seats; through these holes I wove the strongest hairs I could pick out, +just after the manner of cane chairs in England. When they were +finished, I made a present of them to her majesty; who kept them in her +cabinet, and used to show them for curiosities, as indeed they were the +wonder of every one that beheld them. The queen would have me sit upon +one of these chairs, but I absolutely refused to obey her, protesting I +would rather die than place a dishonourable part of my body on those +precious hairs, that once adorned her majesty’s head. Of these hairs +(as I had always a mechanical genius) I likewise made a neat little +purse, about five feet long, with her majesty’s name deciphered in gold +letters, which I gave to Glumdalclitch, by the queen’s consent. To say +the truth, it was more for show than use, being not of strength to bear +the weight of the larger coins, and therefore she kept nothing in it +but some little toys that girls are fond of. + +The king, who delighted in music, had frequent concerts at court, to +which I was sometimes carried, and set in my box on a table to hear +them: but the noise was so great that I could hardly distinguish the +tunes. I am confident that all the drums and trumpets of a royal army, +beating and sounding together just at your ears, could not equal it. My +practice was to have my box removed from the place where the performers +sat, as far as I could, then to shut the doors and windows of it, and +draw the window curtains; after which I found their music not +disagreeable. + +I had learned in my youth to play a little upon the spinet. +Glumdalclitch kept one in her chamber, and a master attended twice a +week to teach her: I called it a spinet, because it somewhat resembled +that instrument, and was played upon in the same manner. A fancy came +into my head, that I would entertain the king and queen with an English +tune upon this instrument. But this appeared extremely difficult: for +the spinet was near sixty feet long, each key being almost a foot wide, +so that with my arms extended I could not reach to above five keys, and +to press them down required a good smart stroke with my fist, which +would be too great a labour, and to no purpose. The method I contrived +was this: I prepared two round sticks, about the bigness of common +cudgels; they were thicker at one end than the other, and I covered the +thicker ends with pieces of a mouse’s skin, that by rapping on them I +might neither damage the tops of the keys nor interrupt the sound. +Before the spinet a bench was placed, about four feet below the keys, +and I was put upon the bench. I ran sideling upon it, that way and +this, as fast as I could, banging the proper keys with my two sticks, +and made a shift to play a jig, to the great satisfaction of both their +majesties; but it was the most violent exercise I ever underwent; and +yet I could not strike above sixteen keys, nor consequently play the +bass and treble together, as other artists do; which was a great +disadvantage to my performance. + +The king, who, as I before observed, was a prince of excellent +understanding, would frequently order that I should be brought in my +box, and set upon the table in his closet: he would then command me to +bring one of my chairs out of the box, and sit down within three yards +distance upon the top of the cabinet, which brought me almost to a +level with his face. In this manner I had several conversations with +him. I one day took the freedom to tell his majesty, “that the contempt +he discovered towards Europe, and the rest of the world, did not seem +answerable to those excellent qualities of mind that he was master of; +that reason did not extend itself with the bulk of the body; on the +contrary, we observed in our country, that the tallest persons were +usually the least provided with it; that among other animals, bees and +ants had the reputation of more industry, art, and sagacity, than many +of the larger kinds; and that, as inconsiderable as he took me to be, I +hoped I might live to do his majesty some signal service.” The king +heard me with attention, and began to conceive a much better opinion of +me than he had ever before. He desired “I would give him as exact an +account of the government of England as I possibly could; because, as +fond as princes commonly are of their own customs (for so he +conjectured of other monarchs, by my former discourses), he should be +glad to hear of any thing that might deserve imitation.” + +Imagine with thyself, courteous reader, how often I then wished for the +tongue of Demosthenes or Cicero, that might have enabled me to +celebrate the praise of my own dear native country in a style equal to +its merits and felicity. + +I began my discourse by informing his majesty, that our dominions +consisted of two islands, which composed three mighty kingdoms, under +one sovereign, beside our plantations in America. I dwelt long upon the +fertility of our soil, and the temperature of our climate. I then spoke +at large upon the constitution of an English parliament; partly made up +of an illustrious body called the House of Peers; persons of the +noblest blood, and of the most ancient and ample patrimonies. I +described that extraordinary care always taken of their education in +arts and arms, to qualify them for being counsellors both to the king +and kingdom; to have a share in the legislature; to be members of the +highest court of judicature, whence there can be no appeal; and to be +champions always ready for the defence of their prince and country, by +their valour, conduct, and fidelity. That these were the ornament and +bulwark of the kingdom, worthy followers of their most renowned +ancestors, whose honour had been the reward of their virtue, from which +their posterity were never once known to degenerate. To these were +joined several holy persons, as part of that assembly, under the title +of bishops, whose peculiar business is to take care of religion, and of +those who instruct the people therein. These were searched and sought +out through the whole nation, by the prince and his wisest counsellors, +among such of the priesthood as were most deservedly distinguished by +the sanctity of their lives, and the depth of their erudition; who were +indeed the spiritual fathers of the clergy and the people. + +That the other part of the parliament consisted of an assembly called +the House of Commons, who were all principal gentlemen, freely picked +and culled out by the people themselves, for their great abilities and +love of their country, to represent the wisdom of the whole nation. And +that these two bodies made up the most august assembly in Europe; to +whom, in conjunction with the prince, the whole legislature is +committed. + +I then descended to the courts of justice; over which the judges, those +venerable sages and interpreters of the law, presided, for determining +the disputed rights and properties of men, as well as for the +punishment of vice and protection of innocence. I mentioned the prudent +management of our treasury; the valour and achievements of our forces, +by sea and land. I computed the number of our people, by reckoning how +many millions there might be of each religious sect, or political party +among us. I did not omit even our sports and pastimes, or any other +particular which I thought might redound to the honour of my country. +And I finished all with a brief historical account of affairs and +events in England for about a hundred years past. + +This conversation was not ended under five audiences, each of several +hours; and the king heard the whole with great attention, frequently +taking notes of what I spoke, as well as memorandums of what questions +he intended to ask me. + +When I had put an end to these long discourses, his majesty, in a sixth +audience, consulting his notes, proposed many doubts, queries, and +objections, upon every article. He asked, “What methods were used to +cultivate the minds and bodies of our young nobility, and in what kind +of business they commonly spent the first and teachable parts of their +lives? What course was taken to supply that assembly, when any noble +family became extinct? What qualifications were necessary in those who +are to be created new lords: whether the humour of the prince, a sum of +money to a court lady, or a design of strengthening a party opposite to +the public interest, ever happened to be the motive in those +advancements? What share of knowledge these lords had in the laws of +their country, and how they came by it, so as to enable them to decide +the properties of their fellow-subjects in the last resort? Whether +they were always so free from avarice, partialities, or want, that a +bribe, or some other sinister view, could have no place among them? +Whether those holy lords I spoke of were always promoted to that rank +upon account of their knowledge in religious matters, and the sanctity +of their lives; had never been compliers with the times, while they +were common priests; or slavish prostitute chaplains to some nobleman, +whose opinions they continued servilely to follow, after they were +admitted into that assembly?” + +He then desired to know, “What arts were practised in electing those +whom I called commoners: whether a stranger, with a strong purse, might +not influence the vulgar voters to choose him before their own +landlord, or the most considerable gentleman in the neighbourhood? How +it came to pass, that people were so violently bent upon getting into +this assembly, which I allowed to be a great trouble and expense, often +to the ruin of their families, without any salary or pension? because +this appeared such an exalted strain of virtue and public spirit, that +his majesty seemed to doubt it might possibly not be always sincere.” +And he desired to know, “Whether such zealous gentlemen could have any +views of refunding themselves for the charges and trouble they were at +by sacrificing the public good to the designs of a weak and vicious +prince, in conjunction with a corrupted ministry?” He multiplied his +questions, and sifted me thoroughly upon every part of this head, +proposing numberless inquiries and objections, which I think it not +prudent or convenient to repeat. + +Upon what I said in relation to our courts of justice, his majesty +desired to be satisfied in several points: and this I was the better +able to do, having been formerly almost ruined by a long suit in +chancery, which was decreed for me with costs. He asked, “What time was +usually spent in determining between right and wrong, and what degree +of expense? Whether advocates and orators had liberty to plead in +causes manifestly known to be unjust, vexatious, or oppressive? Whether +party, in religion or politics, were observed to be of any weight in +the scale of justice? Whether those pleading orators were persons +educated in the general knowledge of equity, or only in provincial, +national, and other local customs? Whether they or their judges had any +part in penning those laws, which they assumed the liberty of +interpreting, and glossing upon at their pleasure? Whether they had +ever, at different times, pleaded for and against the same cause, and +cited precedents to prove contrary opinions? Whether they were a rich +or a poor corporation? Whether they received any pecuniary reward for +pleading, or delivering their opinions? And particularly, whether they +were ever admitted as members in the lower senate?” + +He fell next upon the management of our treasury; and said, “he thought +my memory had failed me, because I computed our taxes at about five or +six millions a year, and when I came to mention the issues, he found +they sometimes amounted to more than double; for the notes he had taken +were very particular in this point, because he hoped, as he told me, +that the knowledge of our conduct might be useful to him, and he could +not be deceived in his calculations. But, if what I told him were true, +he was still at a loss how a kingdom could run out of its estate, like +a private person.” He asked me, “who were our creditors; and where we +found money to pay them?” He wondered to hear me talk of such +chargeable and expensive wars; “that certainly we must be a quarrelsome +people, or live among very bad neighbours, and that our generals must +needs be richer than our kings.” He asked, what business we had out of +our own islands, unless upon the score of trade, or treaty, or to +defend the coasts with our fleet?” Above all, he was amazed to hear me +talk of a mercenary standing army, in the midst of peace, and among a +free people. He said, “if we were governed by our own consent, in the +persons of our representatives, he could not imagine of whom we were +afraid, or against whom we were to fight; and would hear my opinion, +whether a private man’s house might not be better defended by himself, +his children, and family, than by half-a-dozen rascals, picked up at a +venture in the streets for small wages, who might get a hundred times +more by cutting their throats?” + +He laughed at my “odd kind of arithmetic,” as he was pleased to call +it, “in reckoning the numbers of our people, by a computation drawn +from the several sects among us, in religion and politics.” He said, +“he knew no reason why those, who entertain opinions prejudicial to the +public, should be obliged to change, or should not be obliged to +conceal them. And as it was tyranny in any government to require the +first, so it was weakness not to enforce the second: for a man may be +allowed to keep poisons in his closet, but not to vend them about for +cordials.” + +He observed, “that among the diversions of our nobility and gentry, I +had mentioned gaming: he desired to know at what age this entertainment +was usually taken up, and when it was laid down; how much of their time +it employed; whether it ever went so high as to affect their fortunes; +whether mean, vicious people, by their dexterity in that art, might not +arrive at great riches, and sometimes keep our very nobles in +dependence, as well as habituate them to vile companions, wholly take +them from the improvement of their minds, and force them, by the losses +they received, to learn and practise that infamous dexterity upon +others?” + +He was perfectly astonished with the historical account I gave him of +our affairs during the last century; protesting “it was only a heap of +conspiracies, rebellions, murders, massacres, revolutions, banishments, +the very worst effects that avarice, faction, hypocrisy, +perfidiousness, cruelty, rage, madness, hatred, envy, lust, malice, and +ambition, could produce.” + +His majesty, in another audience, was at the pains to recapitulate the +sum of all I had spoken; compared the questions he made with the +answers I had given; then taking me into his hands, and stroking me +gently, delivered himself in these words, which I shall never forget, +nor the manner he spoke them in: “My little friend Grildrig, you have +made a most admirable panegyric upon your country; you have clearly +proved, that ignorance, idleness, and vice, are the proper ingredients +for qualifying a legislator; that laws are best explained, interpreted, +and applied, by those whose interest and abilities lie in perverting, +confounding, and eluding them. I observe among you some lines of an +institution, which, in its original, might have been tolerable, but +these half erased, and the rest wholly blurred and blotted by +corruptions. It does not appear, from all you have said, how any one +perfection is required toward the procurement of any one station among +you; much less, that men are ennobled on account of their virtue; that +priests are advanced for their piety or learning; soldiers, for their +conduct or valour; judges, for their integrity; senators, for the love +of their country; or counsellors for their wisdom. As for yourself,” +continued the king, “who have spent the greatest part of your life in +travelling, I am well disposed to hope you may hitherto have escaped +many vices of your country. But by what I have gathered from your own +relation, and the answers I have with much pains wrung and extorted +from you, I cannot but conclude the bulk of your natives to be the most +pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature ever suffered to +crawl upon the surface of the earth.” + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The author’s love of his country. He makes a proposal of much advantage +to the king, which is rejected. The king’s great ignorance in politics. +The learning of that country very imperfect and confined. The laws, and +military affairs, and parties in the state. + + +Nothing but an extreme love of truth could have hindered me from +concealing this part of my story. It was in vain to discover my +resentments, which were always turned into ridicule; and I was forced +to rest with patience, while my noble and beloved country was so +injuriously treated. I am as heartily sorry as any of my readers can +possibly be, that such an occasion was given: but this prince happened +to be so curious and inquisitive upon every particular, that it could +not consist either with gratitude or good manners, to refuse giving him +what satisfaction I was able. Yet thus much I may be allowed to say in +my own vindication, that I artfully eluded many of his questions, and +gave to every point a more favourable turn, by many degrees, than the +strictness of truth would allow. For I have always borne that laudable +partiality to my own country, which Dionysius Halicarnassensis, with so +much justice, recommends to an historian: I would hide the frailties +and deformities of my political mother, and place her virtues and +beauties in the most advantageous light. This was my sincere endeavour +in those many discourses I had with that monarch, although it +unfortunately failed of success. + +But great allowances should be given to a king, who lives wholly +secluded from the rest of the world, and must therefore be altogether +unacquainted with the manners and customs that most prevail in other +nations: the want of which knowledge will ever produce many prejudices, +and a certain narrowness of thinking, from which we, and the politer +countries of Europe, are wholly exempted. And it would be hard indeed, +if so remote a prince’s notions of virtue and vice were to be offered +as a standard for all mankind. + +To confirm what I have now said, and further to show the miserable +effects of a confined education, I shall here insert a passage, which +will hardly obtain belief. In hopes to ingratiate myself further into +his majesty’s favour, I told him of “an invention, discovered between +three and four hundred years ago, to make a certain powder, into a heap +of which, the smallest spark of fire falling, would kindle the whole in +a moment, although it were as big as a mountain, and make it all fly up +in the air together, with a noise and agitation greater than thunder. +That a proper quantity of this powder rammed into a hollow tube of +brass or iron, according to its bigness, would drive a ball of iron or +lead, with such violence and speed, as nothing was able to sustain its +force. That the largest balls thus discharged, would not only destroy +whole ranks of an army at once, but batter the strongest walls to the +ground, sink down ships, with a thousand men in each, to the bottom of +the sea, and when linked together by a chain, would cut through masts +and rigging, divide hundreds of bodies in the middle, and lay all waste +before them. That we often put this powder into large hollow balls of +iron, and discharged them by an engine into some city we were +besieging, which would rip up the pavements, tear the houses to pieces, +burst and throw splinters on every side, dashing out the brains of all +who came near. That I knew the ingredients very well, which were cheap +and common; I understood the manner of compounding them, and could +direct his workmen how to make those tubes, of a size proportionable to +all other things in his majesty’s kingdom, and the largest need not be +above a hundred feet long; twenty or thirty of which tubes, charged +with the proper quantity of powder and balls, would batter down the +walls of the strongest town in his dominions in a few hours, or destroy +the whole metropolis, if ever it should pretend to dispute his absolute +commands.” This I humbly offered to his majesty, as a small tribute of +acknowledgment, in turn for so many marks that I had received, of his +royal favour and protection. + +The king was struck with horror at the description I had given of those +terrible engines, and the proposal I had made. “He was amazed, how so +impotent and grovelling an insect as I” (these were his expressions) +“could entertain such inhuman ideas, and in so familiar a manner, as to +appear wholly unmoved at all the scenes of blood and desolation which I +had painted as the common effects of those destructive machines; +whereof,” he said, “some evil genius, enemy to mankind, must have been +the first contriver. As for himself, he protested, that although few +things delighted him so much as new discoveries in art or in nature, +yet he would rather lose half his kingdom, than be privy to such a +secret; which he commanded me, as I valued any life, never to mention +any more.” + +A strange effect of narrow principles and views! that a prince +possessed of every quality which procures veneration, love, and esteem; +of strong parts, great wisdom, and profound learning, endowed with +admirable talents, and almost adored by his subjects, should, from a +nice, unnecessary scruple, whereof in Europe we can have no conception, +let slip an opportunity put into his hands that would have made him +absolute master of the lives, the liberties, and the fortunes of his +people! Neither do I say this, with the least intention to detract from +the many virtues of that excellent king, whose character, I am +sensible, will, on this account, be very much lessened in the opinion +of an English reader: but I take this defect among them to have risen +from their ignorance, by not having hitherto reduced politics into a +science, as the more acute wits of Europe have done. For, I remember +very well, in a discourse one day with the king, when I happened to +say, “there were several thousand books among us written upon the art +of government,” it gave him (directly contrary to my intention) a very +mean opinion of our understandings. He professed both to abominate and +despise all mystery, refinement, and intrigue, either in a prince or a +minister. He could not tell what I meant by secrets of state, where an +enemy, or some rival nation, were not in the case. He confined the +knowledge of governing within very narrow bounds, to common sense and +reason, to justice and lenity, to the speedy determination of civil and +criminal causes; with some other obvious topics, which are not worth +considering. And he gave it for his opinion, “that whoever could make +two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground +where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do +more essential service to his country, than the whole race of +politicians put together.” + +The learning of this people is very defective, consisting only in +morality, history, poetry, and mathematics, wherein they must be +allowed to excel. But the last of these is wholly applied to what may +be useful in life, to the improvement of agriculture, and all +mechanical arts; so that among us, it would be little esteemed. And as +to ideas, entities, abstractions, and transcendentals, I could never +drive the least conception into their heads. + +No law in that country must exceed in words the number of letters in +their alphabet, which consists only of two and twenty. But indeed few +of them extend even to that length. They are expressed in the most +plain and simple terms, wherein those people are not mercurial enough +to discover above one interpretation: and to write a comment upon any +law, is a capital crime. As to the decision of civil causes, or +proceedings against criminals, their precedents are so few, that they +have little reason to boast of any extraordinary skill in either. + +They have had the art of printing, as well as the Chinese, time out of +mind: but their libraries are not very large; for that of the king, +which is reckoned the largest, does not amount to above a thousand +volumes, placed in a gallery of twelve hundred feet long, whence I had +liberty to borrow what books I pleased. The queen’s joiner had +contrived in one of Glumdalclitch’s rooms, a kind of wooden machine +five-and-twenty feet high, formed like a standing ladder; the steps +were each fifty feet long. It was indeed a moveable pair of stairs, the +lowest end placed at ten feet distance from the wall of the chamber. +The book I had a mind to read, was put up leaning against the wall: I +first mounted to the upper step of the ladder, and turning my face +towards the book, began at the top of the page, and so walking to the +right and left about eight or ten paces, according to the length of the +lines, till I had gotten a little below the level of my eyes, and then +descending gradually till I came to the bottom: after which I mounted +again, and began the other page in the same manner, and so turned over +the leaf, which I could easily do with both my hands, for it was as +thick and stiff as a pasteboard, and in the largest folios not above +eighteen or twenty feet long. + +Their style is clear, masculine, and smooth, but not florid; for they +avoid nothing more than multiplying unnecessary words, or using various +expressions. I have perused many of their books, especially those in +history and morality. Among the rest, I was much diverted with a little +old treatise, which always lay in Glumdalclitch’s bed chamber, and +belonged to her governess, a grave elderly gentlewoman, who dealt in +writings of morality and devotion. The book treats of the weakness of +humankind, and is in little esteem, except among the women and the +vulgar. However, I was curious to see what an author of that country +could say upon such a subject. This writer went through all the usual +topics of European moralists, showing “how diminutive, contemptible, +and helpless an animal was man in his own nature; how unable to defend +himself from inclemencies of the air, or the fury of wild beasts: how +much he was excelled by one creature in strength, by another in speed, +by a third in foresight, by a fourth in industry.” He added, “that +nature was degenerated in these latter declining ages of the world, and +could now produce only small abortive births, in comparison of those in +ancient times.” He said “it was very reasonable to think, not only that +the species of men were originally much larger, but also that there +must have been giants in former ages; which, as it is asserted by +history and tradition, so it has been confirmed by huge bones and +skulls, casually dug up in several parts of the kingdom, far exceeding +the common dwindled race of men in our days.” He argued, “that the very +laws of nature absolutely required we should have been made, in the +beginning of a size more large and robust; not so liable to destruction +from every little accident, of a tile falling from a house, or a stone +cast from the hand of a boy, or being drowned in a little brook.” From +this way of reasoning, the author drew several moral applications, +useful in the conduct of life, but needless here to repeat. For my own +part, I could not avoid reflecting how universally this talent was +spread, of drawing lectures in morality, or indeed rather matter of +discontent and repining, from the quarrels we raise with nature. And I +believe, upon a strict inquiry, those quarrels might be shown as +ill-grounded among us as they are among that people. + +As to their military affairs, they boast that the king’s army consists +of a hundred and seventy-six thousand foot, and thirty-two thousand +horse: if that may be called an army, which is made up of tradesmen in +the several cities, and farmers in the country, whose commanders are +only the nobility and gentry, without pay or reward. They are indeed +perfect enough in their exercises, and under very good discipline, +wherein I saw no great merit; for how should it be otherwise, where +every farmer is under the command of his own landlord, and every +citizen under that of the principal men in his own city, chosen after +the manner of Venice, by ballot? + +I have often seen the militia of Lorbrulgrud drawn out to exercise, in +a great field near the city of twenty miles square. They were in all +not above twenty-five thousand foot, and six thousand horse; but it was +impossible for me to compute their number, considering the space of +ground they took up. A cavalier, mounted on a large steed, might be +about ninety feet high. I have seen this whole body of horse, upon a +word of command, draw their swords at once, and brandish them in the +air. Imagination can figure nothing so grand, so surprising, and so +astonishing! It looked as if ten thousand flashes of lightning were +darting at the same time from every quarter of the sky. + +I was curious to know how this prince, to whose dominions there is no +access from any other country, came to think of armies, or to teach his +people the practice of military discipline. But I was soon informed, +both by conversation and reading their histories; for, in the course of +many ages, they have been troubled with the same disease to which the +whole race of mankind is subject; the nobility often contending for +power, the people for liberty, and the king for absolute dominion. All +which, however happily tempered by the laws of that kingdom, have been +sometimes violated by each of the three parties, and have more than +once occasioned civil wars; the last whereof was happily put an end to +by this prince’s grandfather, in a general composition; and the +militia, then settled with common consent, has been ever since kept in +the strictest duty. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +The king and queen make a progress to the frontiers. The author attends +them. The manner in which he leaves the country very particularly +related. He returns to England. + + +I had always a strong impulse that I should some time recover my +liberty, though it was impossible to conjecture by what means, or to +form any project with the least hope of succeeding. The ship in which I +sailed, was the first ever known to be driven within sight of that +coast, and the king had given strict orders, that if at any time +another appeared, it should be taken ashore, and with all its crew and +passengers brought in a tumbril to Lorbrulgrud. He was strongly bent to +get me a woman of my own size, by whom I might propagate the breed: but +I think I should rather have died than undergone the disgrace of +leaving a posterity to be kept in cages, like tame canary-birds, and +perhaps, in time, sold about the kingdom, to persons of quality, for +curiosities. I was indeed treated with much kindness: I was the +favourite of a great king and queen, and the delight of the whole +court; but it was upon such a foot as ill became the dignity of +humankind. I could never forget those domestic pledges I had left +behind me. I wanted to be among people, with whom I could converse upon +even terms, and walk about the streets and fields without being afraid +of being trod to death like a frog or a young puppy. But my deliverance +came sooner than I expected, and in a manner not very common; the whole +story and circumstances of which I shall faithfully relate. + +I had now been two years in this country; and about the beginning of +the third, Glumdalclitch and I attended the king and queen, in a +progress to the south coast of the kingdom. I was carried, as usual, in +my travelling-box, which as I have already described, was a very +convenient closet, of twelve feet wide. And I had ordered a hammock to +be fixed, by silken ropes from the four corners at the top, to break +the jolts, when a servant carried me before him on horseback, as I +sometimes desired; and would often sleep in my hammock, while we were +upon the road. On the roof of my closet, not directly over the middle +of the hammock, I ordered the joiner to cut out a hole of a foot +square, to give me air in hot weather, as I slept; which hole I shut at +pleasure with a board that drew backward and forward through a groove. + +When we came to our journey’s end, the king thought proper to pass a +few days at a palace he has near Flanflasnic, a city within eighteen +English miles of the seaside. Glumdalclitch and I were much fatigued: I +had gotten a small cold, but the poor girl was so ill as to be confined +to her chamber. I longed to see the ocean, which must be the only scene +of my escape, if ever it should happen. I pretended to be worse than I +really was, and desired leave to take the fresh air of the sea, with a +page, whom I was very fond of, and who had sometimes been trusted with +me. I shall never forget with what unwillingness Glumdalclitch +consented, nor the strict charge she gave the page to be careful of me, +bursting at the same time into a flood of tears, as if she had some +forboding of what was to happen. The boy took me out in my box, about +half an hour’s walk from the palace, towards the rocks on the +sea-shore. I ordered him to set me down, and lifting up one of my +sashes, cast many a wistful melancholy look towards the sea. I found +myself not very well, and told the page that I had a mind to take a nap +in my hammock, which I hoped would do me good. I got in, and the boy +shut the window close down, to keep out the cold. I soon fell asleep, +and all I can conjecture is, while I slept, the page, thinking no +danger could happen, went among the rocks to look for birds’ eggs, +having before observed him from my window searching about, and picking +up one or two in the clefts. Be that as it will, I found myself +suddenly awaked with a violent pull upon the ring, which was fastened +at the top of my box for the conveniency of carriage. I felt my box +raised very high in the air, and then borne forward with prodigious +speed. The first jolt had like to have shaken me out of my hammock, but +afterward the motion was easy enough. I called out several times, as +loud as I could raise my voice, but all to no purpose. I looked towards +my windows, and could see nothing but the clouds and sky. I heard a +noise just over my head, like the clapping of wings, and then began to +perceive the woful condition I was in; that some eagle had got the ring +of my box in his beak, with an intent to let it fall on a rock, like a +tortoise in a shell, and then pick out my body, and devour it: for the +sagacity and smell of this bird enables him to discover his quarry at a +great distance, though better concealed than I could be within a +two-inch board. + +In a little time, I observed the noise and flutter of wings to increase +very fast, and my box was tossed up and down, like a sign in a windy +day. I heard several bangs or buffets, as I thought given to the eagle +(for such I am certain it must have been that held the ring of my box +in his beak), and then, all on a sudden, felt myself falling +perpendicularly down, for above a minute, but with such incredible +swiftness, that I almost lost my breath. My fall was stopped by a +terrible squash, that sounded louder to my ears than the cataract of +Niagara; after which, I was quite in the dark for another minute, and +then my box began to rise so high, that I could see light from the tops +of the windows. I now perceived I was fallen into the sea. My box, by +the weight of my body, the goods that were in, and the broad plates of +iron fixed for strength at the four corners of the top and bottom, +floated about five feet deep in water. I did then, and do now suppose, +that the eagle which flew away with my box was pursued by two or three +others, and forced to let me drop, while he defended himself against +the rest, who hoped to share in the prey. The plates of iron fastened +at the bottom of the box (for those were the strongest) preserved the +balance while it fell, and hindered it from being broken on the surface +of the water. Every joint of it was well grooved; and the door did not +move on hinges, but up and down like a sash, which kept my closet so +tight that very little water came in. I got with much difficulty out of +my hammock, having first ventured to draw back the slip-board on the +roof already mentioned, contrived on purpose to let in air, for want of +which I found myself almost stifled. + +How often did I then wish myself with my dear Glumdalclitch, from whom +one single hour had so far divided me! And I may say with truth, that +in the midst of my own misfortunes I could not forbear lamenting my +poor nurse, the grief she would suffer for my loss, the displeasure of +the queen, and the ruin of her fortune. Perhaps many travellers have +not been under greater difficulties and distress than I was at this +juncture, expecting every moment to see my box dashed to pieces, or at +least overset by the first violent blast, or rising wave. A breach in +one single pane of glass would have been immediate death: nor could any +thing have preserved the windows, but the strong lattice wires placed +on the outside, against accidents in travelling. I saw the water ooze +in at several crannies, although the leaks were not considerable, and I +endeavoured to stop them as well as I could. I was not able to lift up +the roof of my closet, which otherwise I certainly should have done, +and sat on the top of it; where I might at least preserve myself some +hours longer, than by being shut up (as I may call it) in the hold. Or +if I escaped these dangers for a day or two, what could I expect but a +miserable death of cold and hunger? I was four hours under these +circumstances, expecting, and indeed wishing, every moment to be my +last. + +I have already told the reader that there were two strong staples fixed +upon that side of my box which had no window, and into which the +servant, who used to carry me on horseback, would put a leathern belt, +and buckle it about his waist. Being in this disconsolate state, I +heard, or at least thought I heard, some kind of grating noise on that +side of my box where the staples were fixed; and soon after I began to +fancy that the box was pulled or towed along the sea; for I now and +then felt a sort of tugging, which made the waves rise near the tops of +my windows, leaving me almost in the dark. This gave me some faint +hopes of relief, although I was not able to imagine how it could be +brought about. I ventured to unscrew one of my chairs, which were +always fastened to the floor; and having made a hard shift to screw it +down again, directly under the slipping-board that I had lately opened, +I mounted on the chair, and putting my mouth as near as I could to the +hole, I called for help in a loud voice, and in all the languages I +understood. I then fastened my handkerchief to a stick I usually +carried, and thrusting it up the hole, waved it several times in the +air, that if any boat or ship were near, the seamen might conjecture +some unhappy mortal to be shut up in the box. + +I found no effect from all I could do, but plainly perceived my closet +to be moved along; and in the space of an hour, or better, that side of +the box where the staples were, and had no windows, struck against +something that was hard. I apprehended it to be a rock, and found +myself tossed more than ever. I plainly heard a noise upon the cover of +my closet, like that of a cable, and the grating of it as it passed +through the ring. I then found myself hoisted up, by degrees, at least +three feet higher than I was before. Whereupon I again thrust up my +stick and handkerchief, calling for help till I was almost hoarse. In +return to which, I heard a great shout repeated three times, giving me +such transports of joy as are not to be conceived but by those who feel +them. I now heard a trampling over my head, and somebody calling +through the hole with a loud voice, in the English tongue, “If there be +any body below, let them speak.” I answered, “I was an Englishman, +drawn by ill fortune into the greatest calamity that ever any creature +underwent, and begged, by all that was moving, to be delivered out of +the dungeon I was in.” The voice replied, “I was safe, for my box was +fastened to their ship; and the carpenter should immediately come and +saw a hole in the cover, large enough to pull me out.” I answered, +“that was needless, and would take up too much time; for there was no +more to be done, but let one of the crew put his finger into the ring, +and take the box out of the sea into the ship, and so into the +captain’s cabin.” Some of them, upon hearing me talk so wildly, thought +I was mad: others laughed; for indeed it never came into my head, that +I was now got among people of my own stature and strength. The +carpenter came, and in a few minutes sawed a passage about four feet +square, then let down a small ladder, upon which I mounted, and thence +was taken into the ship in a very weak condition. + +The sailors were all in amazement, and asked me a thousand questions, +which I had no inclination to answer. I was equally confounded at the +sight of so many pigmies, for such I took them to be, after having so +long accustomed my eyes to the monstrous objects I had left. But the +captain, Mr. Thomas Wilcocks, an honest worthy Shropshire man, +observing I was ready to faint, took me into his cabin, gave me a +cordial to comfort me, and made me turn in upon his own bed, advising +me to take a little rest, of which I had great need. Before I went to +sleep, I gave him to understand that I had some valuable furniture in +my box, too good to be lost: a fine hammock, a handsome field-bed, two +chairs, a table, and a cabinet; that my closet was hung on all sides, +or rather quilted, with silk and cotton; that if he would let one of +the crew bring my closet into his cabin, I would open it there before +him, and show him my goods. The captain, hearing me utter these +absurdities, concluded I was raving; however (I suppose to pacify me) +he promised to give order as I desired, and going upon deck, sent some +of his men down into my closet, whence (as I afterwards found) they +drew up all my goods, and stripped off the quilting; but the chairs, +cabinet, and bedstead, being screwed to the floor, were much damaged by +the ignorance of the seamen, who tore them up by force. Then they +knocked off some of the boards for the use of the ship, and when they +had got all they had a mind for, let the hull drop into the sea, which +by reason of many breaches made in the bottom and sides, sunk to +rights. And, indeed, I was glad not to have been a spectator of the +havoc they made, because I am confident it would have sensibly touched +me, by bringing former passages into my mind, which I would rather have +forgot. + +I slept some hours, but perpetually disturbed with dreams of the place +I had left, and the dangers I had escaped. However, upon waking, I +found myself much recovered. It was now about eight o’clock at night, +and the captain ordered supper immediately, thinking I had already +fasted too long. He entertained me with great kindness, observing me +not to look wildly, or talk inconsistently: and, when we were left +alone, desired I would give him a relation of my travels, and by what +accident I came to be set adrift, in that monstrous wooden chest. He +said “that about twelve o’clock at noon, as he was looking through his +glass, he spied it at a distance, and thought it was a sail, which he +had a mind to make, being not much out of his course, in hopes of +buying some biscuit, his own beginning to fall short. That upon coming +nearer, and finding his error, he sent out his long-boat to discover +what it was; that his men came back in a fright, swearing they had seen +a swimming house. That he laughed at their folly, and went himself in +the boat, ordering his men to take a strong cable along with them. That +the weather being calm, he rowed round me several times, observed my +windows and wire lattices that defended them. That he discovered two +staples upon one side, which was all of boards, without any passage for +light. He then commanded his men to row up to that side, and fastening +a cable to one of the staples, ordered them to tow my chest, as they +called it, toward the ship. When it was there, he gave directions to +fasten another cable to the ring fixed in the cover, and to raise up my +chest with pulleys, which all the sailors were not able to do above two +or three feet.” He said, “they saw my stick and handkerchief thrust out +of the hole, and concluded that some unhappy man must be shut up in the +cavity.” I asked, “whether he or the crew had seen any prodigious birds +in the air, about the time he first discovered me.” To which he +answered, “that discoursing this matter with the sailors while I was +asleep, one of them said, he had observed three eagles flying towards +the north, but remarked nothing of their being larger than the usual +size:” which I suppose must be imputed to the great height they were +at; and he could not guess the reason of my question. I then asked the +captain, “how far he reckoned we might be from land?” He said, “by the +best computation he could make, we were at least a hundred leagues.” I +assured him, “that he must be mistaken by almost half, for I had not +left the country whence I came above two hours before I dropped into +the sea.” Whereupon he began again to think that my brain was +disturbed, of which he gave me a hint, and advised me to go to bed in a +cabin he had provided. I assured him, “I was well refreshed with his +good entertainment and company, and as much in my senses as ever I was +in my life.” He then grew serious, and desired to ask me freely, +“whether I were not troubled in my mind by the consciousness of some +enormous crime, for which I was punished, at the command of some +prince, by exposing me in that chest; as great criminals, in other +countries, have been forced to sea in a leaky vessel, without +provisions: for although he should be sorry to have taken so ill a man +into his ship, yet he would engage his word to set me safe ashore, in +the first port where we arrived.” He added, “that his suspicions were +much increased by some very absurd speeches I had delivered at first to +his sailors, and afterwards to himself, in relation to my closet or +chest, as well as by my odd looks and behaviour while I was at supper.” + +I begged his patience to hear me tell my story, which I faithfully did, +from the last time I left England, to the moment he first discovered +me. And, as truth always forces its way into rational minds, so this +honest worthy gentleman, who had some tincture of learning, and very +good sense, was immediately convinced of my candour and veracity. But +further to confirm all I had said, I entreated him to give order that +my cabinet should be brought, of which I had the key in my pocket; for +he had already informed me how the seamen disposed of my closet. I +opened it in his own presence, and showed him the small collection of +rarities I made in the country from which I had been so strangely +delivered. There was the comb I had contrived out of the stumps of the +king’s beard, and another of the same materials, but fixed into a +paring of her majesty’s thumb-nail, which served for the back. There +was a collection of needles and pins, from a foot to half a yard long; +four wasp stings, like joiner’s tacks; some combings of the queen’s +hair; a gold ring, which one day she made me a present of, in a most +obliging manner, taking it from her little finger, and throwing it over +my head like a collar. I desired the captain would please to accept +this ring in return for his civilities; which he absolutely refused. I +showed him a corn that I had cut off with my own hand, from a maid of +honour’s toe; it was about the bigness of Kentish pippin, and grown so +hard, that when I returned to England, I got it hollowed into a cup, +and set in silver. Lastly, I desired him to see the breeches I had then +on, which were made of a mouse’s skin. + +I could force nothing on him but a footman’s tooth, which I observed +him to examine with great curiosity, and found he had a fancy for it. +He received it with abundance of thanks, more than such a trifle could +deserve. It was drawn by an unskilful surgeon, in a mistake, from one +of Glumdalclitch’s men, who was afflicted with the tooth-ache, but it +was as sound as any in his head. I got it cleaned, and put it into my +cabinet. It was about a foot long, and four inches in diameter. + +The captain was very well satisfied with this plain relation I had +given him, and said, “he hoped, when we returned to England, I would +oblige the world by putting it on paper, and making it public.” My +answer was, “that we were overstocked with books of travels: that +nothing could now pass which was not extraordinary; wherein I doubted +some authors less consulted truth, than their own vanity, or interest, +or the diversion of ignorant readers; that my story could contain +little beside common events, without those ornamental descriptions of +strange plants, trees, birds, and other animals; or of the barbarous +customs and idolatry of savage people, with which most writers abound. +However, I thanked him for his good opinion, and promised to take the +matter into my thoughts.” + +He said “he wondered at one thing very much, which was, to hear me +speak so loud;” asking me “whether the king or queen of that country +were thick of hearing?” I told him, “it was what I had been used to for +above two years past, and that I admired as much at the voices of him +and his men, who seemed to me only to whisper, and yet I could hear +them well enough. But, when I spoke in that country, it was like a man +talking in the streets, to another looking out from the top of a +steeple, unless when I was placed on a table, or held in any person’s +hand.” I told him, “I had likewise observed another thing, that, when I +first got into the ship, and the sailors stood all about me, I thought +they were the most little contemptible creatures I had ever beheld.” +For indeed, while I was in that prince’s country, I could never endure +to look in a glass, after my eyes had been accustomed to such +prodigious objects, because the comparison gave me so despicable a +conceit of myself. The captain said, “that while we were at supper, he +observed me to look at every thing with a sort of wonder, and that I +often seemed hardly able to contain my laughter, which he knew not well +how to take, but imputed it to some disorder in my brain.” I answered, +“it was very true; and I wondered how I could forbear, when I saw his +dishes of the size of a silver three-pence, a leg of pork hardly a +mouthful, a cup not so big as a nut-shell;” and so I went on, +describing the rest of his household-stuff and provisions, after the +same manner. For, although the queen had ordered a little equipage of +all things necessary for me, while I was in her service, yet my ideas +were wholly taken up with what I saw on every side of me, and I winked +at my own littleness, as people do at their own faults. The captain +understood my raillery very well, and merrily replied with the old +English proverb, “that he doubted my eyes were bigger than my belly, +for he did not observe my stomach so good, although I had fasted all +day;” and, continuing in his mirth, protested “he would have gladly +given a hundred pounds, to have seen my closet in the eagle’s bill, and +afterwards in its fall from so great a height into the sea; which would +certainly have been a most astonishing object, worthy to have the +description of it transmitted to future ages:” and the comparison of +Phaeton was so obvious, that he could not forbear applying it, although +I did not much admire the conceit. + +The captain having been at Tonquin, was, in his return to England, +driven north-eastward to the latitude of 44 degrees, and longitude of +143. But meeting a trade-wind two days after I came on board him, we +sailed southward a long time, and coasting New Holland, kept our course +west-south-west, and then south-south-west, till we doubled the Cape of +Good Hope. Our voyage was very prosperous, but I shall not trouble the +reader with a journal of it. The captain called in at one or two ports, +and sent in his long-boat for provisions and fresh water; but I never +went out of the ship till we came into the Downs, which was on the +third day of June, 1706, about nine months after my escape. I offered +to leave my goods in security for payment of my freight: but the +captain protested he would not receive one farthing. We took a kind +leave of each other, and I made him promise he would come to see me at +my house in Redriff. I hired a horse and guide for five shillings, +which I borrowed of the captain. + +As I was on the road, observing the littleness of the houses, the +trees, the cattle, and the people, I began to think myself in Lilliput. +I was afraid of trampling on every traveller I met, and often called +aloud to have them stand out of the way, so that I had like to have +gotten one or two broken heads for my impertinence. + +When I came to my own house, for which I was forced to inquire, one of +the servants opening the door, I bent down to go in, (like a goose +under a gate,) for fear of striking my head. My wife ran out to embrace +me, but I stooped lower than her knees, thinking she could otherwise +never be able to reach my mouth. My daughter kneeled to ask my +blessing, but I could not see her till she arose, having been so long +used to stand with my head and eyes erect to above sixty feet; and then +I went to take her up with one hand by the waist. I looked down upon +the servants, and one or two friends who were in the house, as if they +had been pigmies and I a giant. I told my wife, “she had been too +thrifty, for I found she had starved herself and her daughter to +nothing.” In short, I behaved myself so unaccountably, that they were +all of the captain’s opinion when he first saw me, and concluded I had +lost my wits. This I mention as an instance of the great power of habit +and prejudice. + +In a little time, I and my family and friends came to a right +understanding: but my wife protested “I should never go to sea any +more;” although my evil destiny so ordered, that she had not power to +hinder me, as the reader may know hereafter. In the mean time, I here +conclude the second part of my unfortunate voyages. + + +PART III. A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI, GLUBBDUBDRIB, LUGGNAGG AND +JAPAN. + + +CHAPTER I. + +The author sets out on his third voyage. Is taken by pirates. The +malice of a Dutchman. His arrival at an island. He is received into +Laputa. + + +I had not been at home above ten days, when Captain William Robinson, a +Cornish man, commander of the Hopewell, a stout ship of three hundred +tons, came to my house. I had formerly been surgeon of another ship +where he was master, and a fourth part owner, in a voyage to the +Levant. He had always treated me more like a brother, than an inferior +officer; and, hearing of my arrival, made me a visit, as I apprehended +only out of friendship, for nothing passed more than what is usual +after long absences. But repeating his visits often, expressing his joy +to find me in good health, asking, “whether I were now settled for +life?” adding, “that he intended a voyage to the East Indies in two +months,” at last he plainly invited me, though with some apologies, to +be surgeon of the ship; “that I should have another surgeon under me, +beside our two mates; that my salary should be double to the usual pay; +and that having experienced my knowledge in sea-affairs to be at least +equal to his, he would enter into any engagement to follow my advice, +as much as if I had shared in the command.” + +He said so many other obliging things, and I knew him to be so honest a +man, that I could not reject this proposal; the thirst I had of seeing +the world, notwithstanding my past misfortunes, continuing as violent +as ever. The only difficulty that remained, was to persuade my wife, +whose consent however I at last obtained, by the prospect of advantage +she proposed to her children. + +We set out the 5th day of August, 1706, and arrived at Fort St. George +the 11th of April, 1707. We staid there three weeks to refresh our +crew, many of whom were sick. From thence we went to Tonquin, where the +captain resolved to continue some time, because many of the goods he +intended to buy were not ready, nor could he expect to be dispatched in +several months. Therefore, in hopes to defray some of the charges he +must be at, he bought a sloop, loaded it with several sorts of goods, +wherewith the Tonquinese usually trade to the neighbouring islands, and +putting fourteen men on board, whereof three were of the country, he +appointed me master of the sloop, and gave me power to traffic, while +he transacted his affairs at Tonquin. + +We had not sailed above three days, when a great storm arising, we were +driven five days to the north-north-east, and then to the east: after +which we had fair weather, but still with a pretty strong gale from the +west. Upon the tenth day we were chased by two pirates, who soon +overtook us; for my sloop was so deep laden, that she sailed very slow, +neither were we in a condition to defend ourselves. + +We were boarded about the same time by both the pirates, who entered +furiously at the head of their men; but finding us all prostrate upon +our faces (for so I gave order), they pinioned us with strong ropes, +and setting guard upon us, went to search the sloop. + +I observed among them a Dutchman, who seemed to be of some authority, +though he was not commander of either ship. He knew us by our +countenances to be Englishmen, and jabbering to us in his own language, +swore we should be tied back to back and thrown into the sea. I spoke +Dutch tolerably well; I told him who we were, and begged him, in +consideration of our being Christians and Protestants, of neighbouring +countries in strict alliance, that he would move the captains to take +some pity on us. This inflamed his rage; he repeated his threatenings, +and turning to his companions, spoke with great vehemence in the +Japanese language, as I suppose, often using the word _Christianos_. + +The largest of the two pirate ships was commanded by a Japanese +captain, who spoke a little Dutch, but very imperfectly. He came up to +me, and after several questions, which I answered in great humility, he +said, “we should not die.” I made the captain a very low bow, and then, +turning to the Dutchman, said, “I was sorry to find more mercy in a +heathen, than in a brother christian.” But I had soon reason to repent +those foolish words: for that malicious reprobate, having often +endeavoured in vain to persuade both the captains that I might be +thrown into the sea (which they would not yield to, after the promise +made me that I should not die), however, prevailed so far, as to have a +punishment inflicted on me, worse, in all human appearance, than death +itself. My men were sent by an equal division into both the pirate +ships, and my sloop new manned. As to myself, it was determined that I +should be set adrift in a small canoe, with paddles and a sail, and +four days’ provisions; which last, the Japanese captain was so kind to +double out of his own stores, and would permit no man to search me. I +got down into the canoe, while the Dutchman, standing upon the deck, +loaded me with all the curses and injurious terms his language could +afford. + +About an hour before we saw the pirates I had taken an observation, and +found we were in the latitude of 46 N. and longitude of 183. When I was +at some distance from the pirates, I discovered, by my pocket-glass, +several islands to the south-east. I set up my sail, the wind being +fair, with a design to reach the nearest of those islands, which I made +a shift to do, in about three hours. It was all rocky: however I got +many birds’ eggs; and, striking fire, I kindled some heath and dry +sea-weed, by which I roasted my eggs. I ate no other supper, being +resolved to spare my provisions as much as I could. I passed the night +under the shelter of a rock, strewing some heath under me, and slept +pretty well. + +The next day I sailed to another island, and thence to a third and +fourth, sometimes using my sail, and sometimes my paddles. But, not to +trouble the reader with a particular account of my distresses, let it +suffice, that on the fifth day I arrived at the last island in my +sight, which lay south-south-east to the former. + +This island was at a greater distance than I expected, and I did not +reach it in less than five hours. I encompassed it almost round, before +I could find a convenient place to land in; which was a small creek, +about three times the wideness of my canoe. I found the island to be +all rocky, only a little intermingled with tufts of grass, and +sweet-smelling herbs. I took out my small provisions and after having +refreshed myself, I secured the remainder in a cave, whereof there were +great numbers; I gathered plenty of eggs upon the rocks, and got a +quantity of dry sea-weed, and parched grass, which I designed to kindle +the next day, and roast my eggs as well as I could, for I had about me +my flint, steel, match, and burning-glass. I lay all night in the cave +where I had lodged my provisions. My bed was the same dry grass and +sea-weed which I intended for fuel. I slept very little, for the +disquiets of my mind prevailed over my weariness, and kept me awake. I +considered how impossible it was to preserve my life in so desolate a +place, and how miserable my end must be: yet found myself so listless +and desponding, that I had not the heart to rise; and before I could +get spirits enough to creep out of my cave, the day was far advanced. I +walked awhile among the rocks: the sky was perfectly clear, and the sun +so hot, that I was forced to turn my face from it: when all on a sudden +it became obscure, as I thought, in a manner very different from what +happens by the interposition of a cloud. I turned back, and perceived a +vast opaque body between me and the sun moving forwards towards the +island: it seemed to be about two miles high, and hid the sun six or +seven minutes; but I did not observe the air to be much colder, or the +sky more darkened, than if I had stood under the shade of a mountain. +As it approached nearer over the place where I was, it appeared to be a +firm substance, the bottom flat, smooth, and shining very bright, from +the reflection of the sea below. I stood upon a height about two +hundred yards from the shore, and saw this vast body descending almost +to a parallel with me, at less than an English mile distance. I took +out my pocket perspective, and could plainly discover numbers of people +moving up and down the sides of it, which appeared to be sloping; but +what those people were doing I was not able to distinguish. + +The natural love of life gave me some inward motion of joy, and I was +ready to entertain a hope that this adventure might, some way or other, +help to deliver me from the desolate place and condition I was in. But +at the same time the reader can hardly conceive my astonishment, to +behold an island in the air, inhabited by men, who were able (as it +should seem) to raise or sink, or put it into progressive motion, as +they pleased. But not being at that time in a disposition to +philosophise upon this phenomenon, I rather chose to observe what +course the island would take, because it seemed for a while to stand +still. Yet soon after, it advanced nearer, and I could see the sides of +it encompassed with several gradations of galleries, and stairs, at +certain intervals, to descend from one to the other. In the lowest +gallery, I beheld some people fishing with long angling rods, and +others looking on. I waved my cap (for my hat was long since worn out) +and my handkerchief toward the island; and upon its nearer approach, I +called and shouted with the utmost strength of my voice; and then +looking circumspectly, I beheld a crowd gather to that side which was +most in my view. I found by their pointing towards me and to each +other, that they plainly discovered me, although they made no return to +my shouting. But I could see four or five men running in great haste, +up the stairs, to the top of the island, who then disappeared. I +happened rightly to conjecture, that these were sent for orders to some +person in authority upon this occasion. + +The number of people increased, and, in less than half an hour, the +island was moved and raised in such a manner, that the lowest gallery +appeared in a parallel of less than a hundred yards distance from the +height where I stood. I then put myself in the most supplicating +posture, and spoke in the humblest accent, but received no answer. +Those who stood nearest over against me, seemed to be persons of +distinction, as I supposed by their habit. They conferred earnestly +with each other, looking often upon me. At length one of them called +out in a clear, polite, smooth dialect, not unlike in sound to the +Italian: and therefore I returned an answer in that language, hoping at +least that the cadence might be more agreeable to his ears. Although +neither of us understood the other, yet my meaning was easily known, +for the people saw the distress I was in. + +They made signs for me to come down from the rock, and go towards the +shore, which I accordingly did; and the flying island being raised to a +convenient height, the verge directly over me, a chain was let down +from the lowest gallery, with a seat fastened to the bottom, to which I +fixed myself, and was drawn up by pulleys. + + +CHAPTER II. + +The humours and dispositions of the Laputians described. An account of +their learning. Of the king and his court. The author’s reception +there. The inhabitants subject to fear and disquietudes. An account of +the women. + + +At my alighting, I was surrounded with a crowd of people, but those who +stood nearest seemed to be of better quality. They beheld me with all +the marks and circumstances of wonder; neither indeed was I much in +their debt, having never till then seen a race of mortals so singular +in their shapes, habits, and countenances. Their heads were all +reclined, either to the right, or the left; one of their eyes turned +inward, and the other directly up to the zenith. Their outward garments +were adorned with the figures of suns, moons, and stars; interwoven +with those of fiddles, flutes, harps, trumpets, guitars, harpsichords, +and many other instruments of music, unknown to us in Europe. I +observed, here and there, many in the habit of servants, with a blown +bladder, fastened like a flail to the end of a stick, which they +carried in their hands. In each bladder was a small quantity of dried +peas, or little pebbles, as I was afterwards informed. With these +bladders, they now and then flapped the mouths and ears of those who +stood near them, of which practice I could not then conceive the +meaning. It seems the minds of these people are so taken up with +intense speculations, that they neither can speak, nor attend to the +discourses of others, without being roused by some external taction +upon the organs of speech and hearing; for which reason, those persons +who are able to afford it always keep a flapper (the original is +_climenole_) in their family, as one of their domestics; nor ever walk +abroad, or make visits, without him. And the business of this officer +is, when two, three, or more persons are in company, gently to strike +with his bladder the mouth of him who is to speak, and the right ear of +him or them to whom the speaker addresses himself. This flapper is +likewise employed diligently to attend his master in his walks, and +upon occasion to give him a soft flap on his eyes; because he is always +so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in manifest danger of falling +down every precipice, and bouncing his head against every post; and in +the streets, of justling others, or being justled himself into the +kennel. + +It was necessary to give the reader this information, without which he +would be at the same loss with me to understand the proceedings of +these people, as they conducted me up the stairs to the top of the +island, and from thence to the royal palace. While we were ascending, +they forgot several times what they were about, and left me to myself, +till their memories were again roused by their flappers; for they +appeared altogether unmoved by the sight of my foreign habit and +countenance, and by the shouts of the vulgar, whose thoughts and minds +were more disengaged. + +At last we entered the palace, and proceeded into the chamber of +presence, where I saw the king seated on his throne, attended on each +side by persons of prime quality. Before the throne, was a large table +filled with globes and spheres, and mathematical instruments of all +kinds. His majesty took not the least notice of us, although our +entrance was not without sufficient noise, by the concourse of all +persons belonging to the court. But he was then deep in a problem; and +we attended at least an hour, before he could solve it. There stood by +him, on each side, a young page with flaps in their hands, and when +they saw he was at leisure, one of them gently struck his mouth, and +the other his right ear; at which he startled like one awaked on the +sudden, and looking towards me and the company I was in, recollected +the occasion of our coming, whereof he had been informed before. He +spoke some words, whereupon immediately a young man with a flap came up +to my side, and flapped me gently on the right ear; but I made signs, +as well as I could, that I had no occasion for such an instrument; +which, as I afterwards found, gave his majesty, and the whole court, a +very mean opinion of my understanding. The king, as far as I could +conjecture, asked me several questions, and I addressed myself to him +in all the languages I had. When it was found I could neither +understand nor be understood, I was conducted by his order to an +apartment in his palace (this prince being distinguished above all his +predecessors for his hospitality to strangers), where two servants were +appointed to attend me. My dinner was brought, and four persons of +quality, whom I remembered to have seen very near the king’s person, +did me the honour to dine with me. We had two courses, of three dishes +each. In the first course, there was a shoulder of mutton cut into an +equilateral triangle, a piece of beef into a rhomboides, and a pudding +into a cycloid. The second course was two ducks trussed up in the form +of fiddles; sausages and puddings resembling flutes and hautboys, and a +breast of veal in the shape of a harp. The servants cut our bread into +cones, cylinders, parallelograms, and several other mathematical +figures. + +While we were at dinner, I made bold to ask the names of several things +in their language, and those noble persons, by the assistance of their +flappers, delighted to give me answers, hoping to raise my admiration +of their great abilities if I could be brought to converse with them. I +was soon able to call for bread and drink, or whatever else I wanted. + +After dinner my company withdrew, and a person was sent to me by the +king’s order, attended by a flapper. He brought with him pen, ink, and +paper, and three or four books, giving me to understand by signs, that +he was sent to teach me the language. We sat together four hours, in +which time I wrote down a great number of words in columns, with the +translations over against them; I likewise made a shift to learn +several short sentences; for my tutor would order one of my servants to +fetch something, to turn about, to make a bow, to sit, or to stand, or +walk, and the like. Then I took down the sentence in writing. He showed +me also, in one of his books, the figures of the sun, moon, and stars, +the zodiac, the tropics, and polar circles, together with the +denominations of many planes and solids. He gave me the names and +descriptions of all the musical instruments, and the general terms of +art in playing on each of them. After he had left me, I placed all my +words, with their interpretations, in alphabetical order. And thus, in +a few days, by the help of a very faithful memory, I got some insight +into their language. The word, which I interpret the flying or floating +island, is in the original _Laputa_, whereof I could never learn the +true etymology. _Lap_, in the old obsolete language, signifies high; +and _untuh_, a governor; from which they say, by corruption, was +derived _Laputa_, from _Lapuntuh_. But I do not approve of this +derivation, which seems to be a little strained. I ventured to offer to +the learned among them a conjecture of my own, that Laputa was _quasi +lap outed_; _lap_, signifying properly, the dancing of the sunbeams in +the sea, and _outed_, a wing; which, however, I shall not obtrude, but +submit to the judicious reader. + +Those to whom the king had entrusted me, observing how ill I was clad, +ordered a tailor to come next morning, and take measure for a suit of +clothes. This operator did his office after a different manner from +those of his trade in Europe. He first took my altitude by a quadrant, +and then, with a rule and compasses, described the dimensions and +outlines of my whole body, all which he entered upon paper; and in six +days brought my clothes very ill made, and quite out of shape, by +happening to mistake a figure in the calculation. But my comfort was, +that I observed such accidents very frequent, and little regarded. + +During my confinement for want of clothes, and by an indisposition that +held me some days longer, I much enlarged my dictionary; and when I +went next to court, was able to understand many things the king spoke, +and to return him some kind of answers. His majesty had given orders, +that the island should move north-east and by east, to the vertical +point over Lagado, the metropolis of the whole kingdom below, upon the +firm earth. It was about ninety leagues distant, and our voyage lasted +four days and a half. I was not in the least sensible of the +progressive motion made in the air by the island. On the second +morning, about eleven o’clock, the king himself in person, attended by +his nobility, courtiers, and officers, having prepared all their +musical instruments, played on them for three hours without +intermission, so that I was quite stunned with the noise; neither could +I possibly guess the meaning, till my tutor informed me. He said that, +the people of their island had their ears adapted to hear “the music of +the spheres, which always played at certain periods, and the court was +now prepared to bear their part, in whatever instrument they most +excelled.” + +In our journey towards Lagado, the capital city, his majesty ordered +that the island should stop over certain towns and villages, from +whence he might receive the petitions of his subjects. And to this +purpose, several packthreads were let down, with small weights at the +bottom. On these packthreads the people strung their petitions, which +mounted up directly, like the scraps of paper fastened by schoolboys at +the end of the string that holds their kite. Sometimes we received wine +and victuals from below, which were drawn up by pulleys. + +The knowledge I had in mathematics gave me great assistance in +acquiring their phraseology, which depended much upon that science, and +music; and in the latter I was not unskilled. Their ideas are +perpetually conversant in lines and figures. If they would, for +example, praise the beauty of a woman, or any other animal, they +describe it by rhombs, circles, parallelograms, ellipses, and other +geometrical terms, or by words of art drawn from music, needless here +to repeat. I observed in the king’s kitchen all sorts of mathematical +and musical instruments, after the figures of which they cut up the +joints that were served to his majesty’s table. + +Their houses are very ill built, the walls bevel, without one right +angle in any apartment; and this defect arises from the contempt they +bear to practical geometry, which they despise as vulgar and mechanic; +those instructions they give being too refined for the intellects of +their workmen, which occasions perpetual mistakes. And although they +are dexterous enough upon a piece of paper, in the management of the +rule, the pencil, and the divider, yet in the common actions and +behaviour of life, I have not seen a more clumsy, awkward, and unhandy +people, nor so slow and perplexed in their conceptions upon all other +subjects, except those of mathematics and music. They are very bad +reasoners, and vehemently given to opposition, unless when they happen +to be of the right opinion, which is seldom their case. Imagination, +fancy, and invention, they are wholly strangers to, nor have any words +in their language, by which those ideas can be expressed; the whole +compass of their thoughts and mind being shut up within the two +forementioned sciences. + +Most of them, and especially those who deal in the astronomical part, +have great faith in judicial astrology, although they are ashamed to +own it publicly. But what I chiefly admired, and thought altogether +unaccountable, was the strong disposition I observed in them towards +news and politics, perpetually inquiring into public affairs, giving +their judgments in matters of state, and passionately disputing every +inch of a party opinion. I have indeed observed the same disposition +among most of the mathematicians I have known in Europe, although I +could never discover the least analogy between the two sciences; unless +those people suppose, that because the smallest circle has as many +degrees as the largest, therefore the regulation and management of the +world require no more abilities than the handling and turning of a +globe; but I rather take this quality to spring from a very common +infirmity of human nature, inclining us to be most curious and +conceited in matters where we have least concern, and for which we are +least adapted by study or nature. + +These people are under continual disquietudes, never enjoying a +minute’s peace of mind; and their disturbances proceed from causes +which very little affect the rest of mortals. Their apprehensions arise +from several changes they dread in the celestial bodies: for instance, +that the earth, by the continual approaches of the sun towards it, +must, in course of time, be absorbed, or swallowed up; that the face of +the sun, will, by degrees, be encrusted with its own effluvia, and give +no more light to the world; that the earth very narrowly escaped a +brush from the tail of the last comet, which would have infallibly +reduced it to ashes; and that the next, which they have calculated for +one-and-thirty years hence, will probably destroy us. For if, in its +perihelion, it should approach within a certain degree of the sun (as +by their calculations they have reason to dread) it will receive a +degree of heat ten thousand times more intense than that of red hot +glowing iron, and in its absence from the sun, carry a blazing tail ten +hundred thousand and fourteen miles long, through which, if the earth +should pass at the distance of one hundred thousand miles from the +nucleus, or main body of the comet, it must in its passage be set on +fire, and reduced to ashes: that the sun, daily spending its rays +without any nutriment to supply them, will at last be wholly consumed +and annihilated; which must be attended with the destruction of this +earth, and of all the planets that receive their light from it. + +They are so perpetually alarmed with the apprehensions of these, and +the like impending dangers, that they can neither sleep quietly in +their beds, nor have any relish for the common pleasures and amusements +of life. When they meet an acquaintance in the morning, the first +question is about the sun’s health, how he looked at his setting and +rising, and what hopes they have to avoid the stroke of the approaching +comet. This conversation they are apt to run into with the same temper +that boys discover in delighting to hear terrible stories of spirits +and hobgoblins, which they greedily listen to, and dare not go to bed +for fear. + +The women of the island have abundance of vivacity: they contemn their +husbands, and are exceedingly fond of strangers, whereof there is +always a considerable number from the continent below, attending at +court, either upon affairs of the several towns and corporations, or +their own particular occasions, but are much despised, because they +want the same endowments. Among these the ladies choose their gallants: +but the vexation is, that they act with too much ease and security; for +the husband is always so rapt in speculation, that the mistress and +lover may proceed to the greatest familiarities before his face, if he +be but provided with paper and implements, and without his flapper at +his side. + +The wives and daughters lament their confinement to the island, +although I think it the most delicious spot of ground in the world; and +although they live here in the greatest plenty and magnificence, and +are allowed to do whatever they please, they long to see the world, and +take the diversions of the metropolis, which they are not allowed to do +without a particular license from the king; and this is not easy to be +obtained, because the people of quality have found, by frequent +experience, how hard it is to persuade their women to return from +below. I was told that a great court lady, who had several children,—is +married to the prime minister, the richest subject in the kingdom, a +very graceful person, extremely fond of her, and lives in the finest +palace of the island,—went down to Lagado on the pretence of health, +there hid herself for several months, till the king sent a warrant to +search for her; and she was found in an obscure eating-house all in +rags, having pawned her clothes to maintain an old deformed footman, +who beat her every day, and in whose company she was taken, much +against her will. And although her husband received her with all +possible kindness, and without the least reproach, she soon after +contrived to steal down again, with all her jewels, to the same +gallant, and has not been heard of since. + +This may perhaps pass with the reader rather for an European or English +story, than for one of a country so remote. But he may please to +consider, that the caprices of womankind are not limited by any climate +or nation, and that they are much more uniform, than can be easily +imagined. + +In about a month’s time, I had made a tolerable proficiency in their +language, and was able to answer most of the king’s questions, when I +had the honour to attend him. His majesty discovered not the least +curiosity to inquire into the laws, government, history, religion, or +manners of the countries where I had been; but confined his questions +to the state of mathematics, and received the account I gave him with +great contempt and indifference, though often roused by his flapper on +each side. + + +CHAPTER III. + +A phenomenon solved by modern philosophy and astronomy. The Laputians’ +great improvements in the latter. The king’s method of suppressing +insurrections. + + +I desired leave of this prince to see the curiosities of the island, +which he was graciously pleased to grant, and ordered my tutor to +attend me. I chiefly wanted to know, to what cause, in art or in +nature, it owed its several motions, whereof I will now give a +philosophical account to the reader. + +The flying or floating island is exactly circular, its diameter 7837 +yards, or about four miles and a half, and consequently contains ten +thousand acres. It is three hundred yards thick. The bottom, or under +surface, which appears to those who view it below, is one even regular +plate of adamant, shooting up to the height of about two hundred yards. +Above it lie the several minerals in their usual order, and over all is +a coat of rich mould, ten or twelve feet deep. The declivity of the +upper surface, from the circumference to the centre, is the natural +cause why all the dews and rains, which fall upon the island, are +conveyed in small rivulets toward the middle, where they are emptied +into four large basins, each of about half a mile in circuit, and two +hundred yards distant from the centre. From these basins the water is +continually exhaled by the sun in the daytime, which effectually +prevents their overflowing. Besides, as it is in the power of the +monarch to raise the island above the region of clouds and vapours, he +can prevent the falling of dews and rain whenever he pleases. For the +highest clouds cannot rise above two miles, as naturalists agree, at +least they were never known to do so in that country. + +At the centre of the island there is a chasm about fifty yards in +diameter, whence the astronomers descend into a large dome, which is +therefore called _flandona gagnole_, or the astronomer’s cave, situated +at the depth of a hundred yards beneath the upper surface of the +adamant. In this cave are twenty lamps continually burning, which, from +the reflection of the adamant, cast a strong light into every part. The +place is stored with great variety of sextants, quadrants, telescopes, +astrolabes, and other astronomical instruments. But the greatest +curiosity, upon which the fate of the island depends, is a loadstone of +a prodigious size, in shape resembling a weaver’s shuttle. It is in +length six yards, and in the thickest part at least three yards over. +This magnet is sustained by a very strong axle of adamant passing +through its middle, upon which it plays, and is poised so exactly that +the weakest hand can turn it. It is hooped round with a hollow cylinder +of adamant, four feet deep, as many thick, and twelve yards in +diameter, placed horizontally, and supported by eight adamantine feet, +each six yards high. In the middle of the concave side, there is a +groove twelve inches deep, in which the extremities of the axle are +lodged, and turned round as there is occasion. + +The stone cannot be removed from its place by any force, because the +hoop and its feet are one continued piece with that body of adamant +which constitutes the bottom of the island. + +By means of this loadstone, the island is made to rise and fall, and +move from one place to another. For, with respect to that part of the +earth over which the monarch presides, the stone is endued at one of +its sides with an attractive power, and at the other with a repulsive. +Upon placing the magnet erect, with its attracting end towards the +earth, the island descends; but when the repelling extremity points +downwards, the island mounts directly upwards. When the position of the +stone is oblique, the motion of the island is so too. For in this +magnet, the forces always act in lines parallel to its direction. + +By this oblique motion, the island is conveyed to different parts of +the monarch’s dominions. To explain the manner of its progress, let _A_ +_B_ represent a line drawn across the dominions of Balnibarbi, let the +line _c_ _d_ represent the loadstone, of which let _d_ be the repelling +end, and _c_ the attracting end, the island being over _C_; let the +stone be placed in the position _c_ _d_, with its repelling end +downwards; then the island will be driven upwards obliquely towards +_D_. When it is arrived at _D_, let the stone be turned upon its axle, +till its attracting end points towards _E_, and then the island will be +carried obliquely towards _E_; where, if the stone be again turned upon +its axle till it stands in the position _E_ _F_, with its repelling +point downwards, the island will rise obliquely towards _F_, where, by +directing the attracting end towards _G_, the island may be carried to +_G_, and from _G_ to _H_, by turning the stone, so as to make its +repelling extremity to point directly downward. And thus, by changing +the situation of the stone, as often as there is occasion, the island +is made to rise and fall by turns in an oblique direction, and by those +alternate risings and fallings (the obliquity being not considerable) +is conveyed from one part of the dominions to the other. + +But it must be observed, that this island cannot move beyond the extent +of the dominions below, nor can it rise above the height of four miles. +For which the astronomers (who have written large systems concerning +the stone) assign the following reason: that the magnetic virtue does +not extend beyond the distance of four miles, and that the mineral, +which acts upon the stone in the bowels of the earth, and in the sea +about six leagues distant from the shore, is not diffused through the +whole globe, but terminated with the limits of the king’s dominions; +and it was easy, from the great advantage of such a superior situation, +for a prince to bring under his obedience whatever country lay within +the attraction of that magnet. + +When the stone is put parallel to the plane of the horizon, the island +stands still; for in that case the extremities of it, being at equal +distance from the earth, act with equal force, the one in drawing +downwards, the other in pushing upwards, and consequently no motion can +ensue. + +This loadstone is under the care of certain astronomers, who, from time +to time, give it such positions as the monarch directs. They spend the +greatest part of their lives in observing the celestial bodies, which +they do by the assistance of glasses, far excelling ours in goodness. +For, although their largest telescopes do not exceed three feet, they +magnify much more than those of a hundred with us, and show the stars +with greater clearness. This advantage has enabled them to extend their +discoveries much further than our astronomers in Europe; for they have +made a catalogue of ten thousand fixed stars, whereas the largest of +ours do not contain above one third part of that number. They have +likewise discovered two lesser stars, or satellites, which revolve +about Mars; whereof the innermost is distant from the centre of the +primary planet exactly three of his diameters, and the outermost, five; +the former revolves in the space of ten hours, and the latter in +twenty-one and a half; so that the squares of their periodical times +are very near in the same proportion with the cubes of their distance +from the centre of Mars; which evidently shows them to be governed by +the same law of gravitation that influences the other heavenly bodies. + +They have observed ninety-three different comets, and settled their +periods with great exactness. If this be true (and they affirm it with +great confidence) it is much to be wished, that their observations were +made public, whereby the theory of comets, which at present is very +lame and defective, might be brought to the same perfection with other +arts of astronomy. + +The king would be the most absolute prince in the universe, if he could +but prevail on a ministry to join with him; but these having their +estates below on the continent, and considering that the office of a +favourite has a very uncertain tenure, would never consent to the +enslaving of their country. + +If any town should engage in rebellion or mutiny, fall into violent +factions, or refuse to pay the usual tribute, the king has two methods +of reducing them to obedience. The first and the mildest course is, by +keeping the island hovering over such a town, and the lands about it, +whereby he can deprive them of the benefit of the sun and the rain, and +consequently afflict the inhabitants with dearth and diseases. And if +the crime deserve it, they are at the same time pelted from above with +great stones, against which they have no defence but by creeping into +cellars or caves, while the roofs of their houses are beaten to pieces. +But if they still continue obstinate, or offer to raise insurrections, +he proceeds to the last remedy, by letting the island drop directly +upon their heads, which makes a universal destruction both of houses +and men. However, this is an extremity to which the prince is seldom +driven, neither indeed is he willing to put it in execution; nor dare +his ministers advise him to an action, which, as it would render them +odious to the people, so it would be a great damage to their own +estates, which all lie below; for the island is the king’s demesne. + +But there is still indeed a more weighty reason, why the kings of this +country have been always averse from executing so terrible an action, +unless upon the utmost necessity. For, if the town intended to be +destroyed should have in it any tall rocks, as it generally falls out +in the larger cities, a situation probably chosen at first with a view +to prevent such a catastrophe; or if it abound in high spires, or +pillars of stone, a sudden fall might endanger the bottom or under +surface of the island, which, although it consist, as I have said, of +one entire adamant, two hundred yards thick, might happen to crack by +too great a shock, or burst by approaching too near the fires from the +houses below, as the backs, both of iron and stone, will often do in +our chimneys. Of all this the people are well apprised, and understand +how far to carry their obstinacy, where their liberty or property is +concerned. And the king, when he is highest provoked, and most +determined to press a city to rubbish, orders the island to descend +with great gentleness, out of a pretence of tenderness to his people, +but, indeed, for fear of breaking the adamantine bottom; in which case, +it is the opinion of all their philosophers, that the loadstone could +no longer hold it up, and the whole mass would fall to the ground. + +About three years before my arrival among them, while the king was in +his progress over his dominions, there happened an extraordinary +accident which had like to have put a period to the fate of that +monarchy, at least as it is now instituted. Lindalino, the second city +in the kingdom, was the first his majesty visited in his progress. +Three days after his departure the inhabitants, who had often +complained of great oppressions, shut the town gates, seized on the +governor, and with incredible speed and labour erected four large +towers, one at every corner of the city (which is an exact square), +equal in height to a strong pointed rock that stands directly in the +centre of the city. Upon the top of each tower, as well as upon the +rock, they fixed a great loadstone, and in case their design should +fail, they had provided a vast quantity of the most combustible fuel, +hoping to burst therewith the adamantine bottom of the island, if the +loadstone project should miscarry. + +It was eight months before the king had perfect notice that the +Lindalinians were in rebellion. He then commanded that the island +should be wafted over the city. The people were unanimous, and had laid +in store of provisions, and a great river runs through the middle of +the town. The king hovered over them several days to deprive them of +the sun and the rain. He ordered many packthreads to be let down, yet +not a person offered to send up a petition, but instead thereof very +bold demands, the redress of all their grievances, great immunities, +the choice of their own governor, and other the like exorbitances. Upon +which his majesty commanded all the inhabitants of the island to cast +great stones from the lower gallery into the town; but the citizens had +provided against this mischief by conveying their persons and effects +into the four towers, and other strong buildings, and vaults +underground. + +The king being now determined to reduce this proud people, ordered that +the island should descend gently within forty yards of the top of the +towers and rock. This was accordingly done; but the officers employed +in that work found the descent much speedier than usual, and by turning +the loadstone could not without great difficulty keep it in a firm +position, but found the island inclining to fall. They sent the king +immediate intelligence of this astonishing event, and begged his +majesty’s permission to raise the island higher; the king consented, a +general council was called, and the officers of the loadstone ordered +to attend. One of the oldest and expertest among them obtained leave to +try an experiment, he took a strong line of an hundred yards, and the +island being raised over the town above the attracting power they had +felt, he fastened a piece of adamant to the end of his line, which had +in it a mixture of iron mineral, of the same nature with that whereof +the bottom or lower surface of the island is composed, and from the +lower gallery let it down slowly towards the top of the towers. The +adamant was not descended four yards, before the officer felt it drawn +so strongly downwards that he could hardly pull it back, he then threw +down several small pieces of adamant, and observed that they were all +violently attracted by the top of the tower. The same experiment was +made on the other three towers, and on the rock with the same effect. + +This incident broke entirely the king’s measures, and (to dwell no +longer on other circumstances) he was forced to give the town their own +conditions. + +I was assured by a great minister that if the island had descended so +near the town as not to be able to raise itself, the citizens were +determined to fix it for ever, to kill the king and all his servants, +and entirely change the government. + +By a fundamental law of this realm, neither the king, nor either of his +two eldest sons, are permitted to leave the island; nor the queen, till +she is past child-bearing. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The author leaves Laputa; is conveyed to Balnibarbi; arrives at the +metropolis. A description of the metropolis, and the country adjoining. +The author hospitably received by a great lord. His conversation with +that lord. + + +Although I cannot say that I was ill treated in this island, yet I must +confess I thought myself too much neglected, not without some degree of +contempt; for neither prince nor people appeared to be curious in any +part of knowledge, except mathematics and music, wherein I was far +their inferior, and upon that account very little regarded. + +On the other side, after having seen all the curiosities of the island, +I was very desirous to leave it, being heartily weary of those people. +They were indeed excellent in two sciences for which I have great +esteem, and wherein I am not unversed; but, at the same time, so +abstracted and involved in speculation, that I never met with such +disagreeable companions. I conversed only with women, tradesmen, +flappers, and court-pages, during two months of my abode there; by +which, at last, I rendered myself extremely contemptible; yet these +were the only people from whom I could ever receive a reasonable +answer. + +I had obtained, by hard study, a good degree of knowledge in their +language; I was weary of being confined to an island where I received +so little countenance, and resolved to leave it with the first +opportunity. + +There was a great lord at court, nearly related to the king, and for +that reason alone used with respect. He was universally reckoned the +most ignorant and stupid person among them. He had performed many +eminent services for the crown, had great natural and acquired parts, +adorned with integrity and honour; but so ill an ear for music, that +his detractors reported, “he had been often known to beat time in the +wrong place;” neither could his tutors, without extreme difficulty, +teach him to demonstrate the most easy proposition in the mathematics. +He was pleased to show me many marks of favour, often did me the honour +of a visit, desired to be informed in the affairs of Europe, the laws +and customs, the manners and learning of the several countries where I +had travelled. He listened to me with great attention, and made very +wise observations on all I spoke. He had two flappers attending him for +state, but never made use of them, except at court and in visits of +ceremony, and would always command them to withdraw, when we were alone +together. + +I entreated this illustrious person, to intercede in my behalf with his +majesty, for leave to depart; which he accordingly did, as he was +pleased to tell me, with regret: for indeed he had made me several +offers very advantageous, which, however, I refused, with expressions +of the highest acknowledgment. + +On the 16th day of February I took leave of his majesty and the court. +The king made me a present to the value of about two hundred pounds +English, and my protector, his kinsman, as much more, together with a +letter of recommendation to a friend of his in Lagado, the metropolis. +The island being then hovering over a mountain about two miles from it, +I was let down from the lowest gallery, in the same manner as I had +been taken up. + +The continent, as far as it is subject to the monarch of the flying +island, passes under the general name of _Balnibarbi_; and the +metropolis, as I said before, is called _Lagado_. I felt some little +satisfaction in finding myself on firm ground. I walked to the city +without any concern, being clad like one of the natives, and +sufficiently instructed to converse with them. I soon found out the +person’s house to whom I was recommended, presented my letter from his +friend the grandee in the island, and was received with much kindness. +This great lord, whose name was Munodi, ordered me an apartment in his +own house, where I continued during my stay, and was entertained in a +most hospitable manner. + +The next morning after my arrival, he took me in his chariot to see the +town, which is about half the bigness of London; but the houses very +strangely built, and most of them out of repair. The people in the +streets walked fast, looked wild, their eyes fixed, and were generally +in rags. We passed through one of the town gates, and went about three +miles into the country, where I saw many labourers working with several +sorts of tools in the ground, but was not able to conjecture what they +were about; neither did I observe any expectation either of corn or +grass, although the soil appeared to be excellent. I could not forbear +admiring at these odd appearances, both in town and country; and I made +bold to desire my conductor, that he would be pleased to explain to me, +what could be meant by so many busy heads, hands, and faces, both in +the streets and the fields, because I did not discover any good effects +they produced; but, on the contrary, I never knew a soil so unhappily +cultivated, houses so ill contrived and so ruinous, or a people whose +countenances and habit expressed so much misery and want. + +This lord Munodi was a person of the first rank, and had been some +years governor of Lagado; but, by a cabal of ministers, was discharged +for insufficiency. However, the king treated him with tenderness, as a +well-meaning man, but of a low contemptible understanding. + +When I gave that free censure of the country and its inhabitants, he +made no further answer than by telling me, “that I had not been long +enough among them to form a judgment; and that the different nations of +the world had different customs;” with other common topics to the same +purpose. But, when we returned to his palace, he asked me “how I liked +the building, what absurdities I observed, and what quarrel I had with +the dress or looks of his domestics?” This he might safely do; because +every thing about him was magnificent, regular, and polite. I answered, +“that his excellency’s prudence, quality, and fortune, had exempted him +from those defects, which folly and beggary had produced in others.” He +said, “if I would go with him to his country-house, about twenty miles +distant, where his estate lay, there would be more leisure for this +kind of conversation.” I told his excellency “that I was entirely at +his disposal;” and accordingly we set out next morning. + +During our journey he made me observe the several methods used by +farmers in managing their lands, which to me were wholly unaccountable; +for, except in some very few places, I could not discover one ear of +corn or blade of grass. But, in three hours travelling, the scene was +wholly altered; we came into a most beautiful country; farmers’ houses, +at small distances, neatly built; the fields enclosed, containing +vineyards, corn-grounds, and meadows. Neither do I remember to have +seen a more delightful prospect. His excellency observed my countenance +to clear up; he told me, with a sigh, “that there his estate began, and +would continue the same, till we should come to his house: that his +countrymen ridiculed and despised him, for managing his affairs no +better, and for setting so ill an example to the kingdom; which, +however, was followed by very few, such as were old, and wilful, and +weak like himself.” + +We came at length to the house, which was indeed a noble structure, +built according to the best rules of ancient architecture. The +fountains, gardens, walks, avenues, and groves, were all disposed with +exact judgment and taste. I gave due praises to every thing I saw, +whereof his excellency took not the least notice till after supper; +when, there being no third companion, he told me with a very melancholy +air “that he doubted he must throw down his houses in town and country, +to rebuild them after the present mode; destroy all his plantations, +and cast others into such a form as modern usage required, and give the +same directions to all his tenants, unless he would submit to incur the +censure of pride, singularity, affectation, ignorance, caprice, and +perhaps increase his majesty’s displeasure; that the admiration I +appeared to be under would cease or diminish, when he had informed me +of some particulars which, probably, I never heard of at court, the +people there being too much taken up in their own speculations, to have +regard to what passed here below.” + +The sum of his discourse was to this effect: “That about forty years +ago, certain persons went up to Laputa, either upon business or +diversion, and, after five months continuance, came back with a very +little smattering in mathematics, but full of volatile spirits acquired +in that airy region: that these persons, upon their return, began to +dislike the management of every thing below, and fell into schemes of +putting all arts, sciences, languages, and mechanics, upon a new foot. +To this end, they procured a royal patent for erecting an academy of +projectors in Lagado; and the humour prevailed so strongly among the +people, that there is not a town of any consequence in the kingdom +without such an academy. In these colleges the professors contrive new +rules and methods of agriculture and building, and new instruments, and +tools for all trades and manufactures; whereby, as they undertake, one +man shall do the work of ten; a palace may be built in a week, of +materials so durable as to last for ever without repairing. All the +fruits of the earth shall come to maturity at whatever season we think +fit to choose, and increase a hundred fold more than they do at +present; with innumerable other happy proposals. The only inconvenience +is, that none of these projects are yet brought to perfection; and in +the mean time, the whole country lies miserably waste, the houses in +ruins, and the people without food or clothes. By all which, instead of +being discouraged, they are fifty times more violently bent upon +prosecuting their schemes, driven equally on by hope and despair: that +as for himself, being not of an enterprising spirit, he was content to +go on in the old forms, to live in the houses his ancestors had built, +and act as they did, in every part of life, without innovation: that +some few other persons of quality and gentry had done the same, but +were looked on with an eye of contempt and ill-will, as enemies to art, +ignorant, and ill common-wealth’s men, preferring their own ease and +sloth before the general improvement of their country.” + +His lordship added, “That he would not, by any further particulars, +prevent the pleasure I should certainly take in viewing the grand +academy, whither he was resolved I should go.” He only desired me to +observe a ruined building, upon the side of a mountain about three +miles distant, of which he gave me this account: “That he had a very +convenient mill within half a mile of his house, turned by a current +from a large river, and sufficient for his own family, as well as a +great number of his tenants; that about seven years ago, a club of +those projectors came to him with proposals to destroy this mill, and +build another on the side of that mountain, on the long ridge whereof a +long canal must be cut, for a repository of water, to be conveyed up by +pipes and engines to supply the mill, because the wind and air upon a +height agitated the water, and thereby made it fitter for motion, and +because the water, descending down a declivity, would turn the mill +with half the current of a river whose course is more upon a level.” He +said, “that being then not very well with the court, and pressed by +many of his friends, he complied with the proposal; and after employing +a hundred men for two years, the work miscarried, the projectors went +off, laying the blame entirely upon him, railing at him ever since, and +putting others upon the same experiment, with equal assurance of +success, as well as equal disappointment.” + +In a few days we came back to town; and his excellency, considering the +bad character he had in the academy, would not go with me himself, but +recommended me to a friend of his, to bear me company thither. My lord +was pleased to represent me as a great admirer of projects, and a +person of much curiosity and easy belief; which, indeed, was not +without truth; for I had myself been a sort of projector in my younger +days. + + +CHAPTER V. + +The author permitted to see the grand academy of Lagado. The academy +largely described. The arts wherein the professors employ themselves. + + +This academy is not an entire single building, but a continuation of +several houses on both sides of a street, which growing waste, was +purchased and applied to that use. + +I was received very kindly by the warden, and went for many days to the +academy. Every room has in it one or more projectors; and I believe I +could not be in fewer than five hundred rooms. + +The first man I saw was of a meagre aspect, with sooty hands and face, +his hair and beard long, ragged, and singed in several places. His +clothes, shirt, and skin, were all of the same colour. He had been +eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, +which were to be put in phials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm +the air in raw inclement summers. He told me, he did not doubt, that, +in eight years more, he should be able to supply the governor’s gardens +with sunshine, at a reasonable rate; but he complained that his stock +was low, and entreated me “to give him something as an encouragement to +ingenuity, especially since this had been a very dear season for +cucumbers.” I made him a small present, for my lord had furnished me +with money on purpose, because he knew their practice of begging from +all who go to see them. + +I went into another chamber, but was ready to hasten back, being almost +overcome with a horrible stink. My conductor pressed me forward, +conjuring me in a whisper “to give no offence, which would be highly +resented;” and therefore I durst not so much as stop my nose. The +projector of this cell was the most ancient student of the academy; his +face and beard were of a pale yellow; his hands and clothes daubed over +with filth. When I was presented to him, he gave me a close embrace, a +compliment I could well have excused. His employment, from his first +coming into the academy, was an operation to reduce human excrement to +its original food, by separating the several parts, removing the +tincture which it receives from the gall, making the odour exhale, and +scumming off the saliva. He had a weekly allowance, from the society, +of a vessel filled with human ordure, about the bigness of a Bristol +barrel. + +I saw another at work to calcine ice into gunpowder; who likewise +showed me a treatise he had written concerning the malleability of +fire, which he intended to publish. + +There was a most ingenious architect, who had contrived a new method +for building houses, by beginning at the roof, and working downward to +the foundation; which he justified to me, by the like practice of those +two prudent insects, the bee and the spider. + +There was a man born blind, who had several apprentices in his own +condition: their employment was to mix colours for painters, which +their master taught them to distinguish by feeling and smelling. It was +indeed my misfortune to find them at that time not very perfect in +their lessons, and the professor himself happened to be generally +mistaken. This artist is much encouraged and esteemed by the whole +fraternity. + +In another apartment I was highly pleased with a projector who had +found a device of ploughing the ground with hogs, to save the charges +of ploughs, cattle, and labour. The method is this: in an acre of +ground you bury, at six inches distance and eight deep, a quantity of +acorns, dates, chestnuts, and other mast or vegetables, whereof these +animals are fondest; then you drive six hundred or more of them into +the field, where, in a few days, they will root up the whole ground in +search of their food, and make it fit for sowing, at the same time +manuring it with their dung: it is true, upon experiment, they found +the charge and trouble very great, and they had little or no crop. +However it is not doubted, that this invention may be capable of great +improvement. + +I went into another room, where the walls and ceiling were all hung +round with cobwebs, except a narrow passage for the artist to go in and +out. At my entrance, he called aloud to me, “not to disturb his webs.” +He lamented “the fatal mistake the world had been so long in, of using +silkworms, while we had such plenty of domestic insects who infinitely +excelled the former, because they understood how to weave, as well as +spin.” And he proposed further, “that by employing spiders, the charge +of dyeing silks should be wholly saved;” whereof I was fully convinced, +when he showed me a vast number of flies most beautifully coloured, +wherewith he fed his spiders, assuring us “that the webs would take a +tincture from them; and as he had them of all hues, he hoped to fit +everybody’s fancy, as soon as he could find proper food for the flies, +of certain gums, oils, and other glutinous matter, to give a strength +and consistence to the threads.” + +There was an astronomer, who had undertaken to place a sun-dial upon +the great weathercock on the town-house, by adjusting the annual and +diurnal motions of the earth and sun, so as to answer and coincide with +all accidental turnings of the wind. + +I was complaining of a small fit of the colic, upon which my conductor +led me into a room where a great physician resided, who was famous for +curing that disease, by contrary operations from the same instrument. +He had a large pair of bellows, with a long slender muzzle of ivory. +This he conveyed eight inches up the anus, and drawing in the wind, he +affirmed he could make the guts as lank as a dried bladder. But when +the disease was more stubborn and violent, he let in the muzzle while +the bellows were full of wind, which he discharged into the body of the +patient; then withdrew the instrument to replenish it, clapping his +thumb strongly against the orifice of the fundament; and this being +repeated three or four times, the adventitious wind would rush out, +bringing the noxious along with it, (like water put into a pump), and +the patient recovered. I saw him try both experiments upon a dog, but +could not discern any effect from the former. After the latter the +animal was ready to burst, and made so violent a discharge as was very +offensive to me and my companions. The dog died on the spot, and we +left the doctor endeavouring to recover him, by the same operation. + +I visited many other apartments, but shall not trouble my reader with +all the curiosities I observed, being studious of brevity. + +I had hitherto seen only one side of the academy, the other being +appropriated to the advancers of speculative learning, of whom I shall +say something, when I have mentioned one illustrious person more, who +is called among them “the universal artist.” He told us “he had been +thirty years employing his thoughts for the improvement of human life.” +He had two large rooms full of wonderful curiosities, and fifty men at +work. Some were condensing air into a dry tangible substance, by +extracting the nitre, and letting the aqueous or fluid particles +percolate; others softening marble, for pillows and pin-cushions; +others petrifying the hoofs of a living horse, to preserve them from +foundering. The artist himself was at that time busy upon two great +designs; the first, to sow land with chaff, wherein he affirmed the +true seminal virtue to be contained, as he demonstrated by several +experiments, which I was not skilful enough to comprehend. The other +was, by a certain composition of gums, minerals, and vegetables, +outwardly applied, to prevent the growth of wool upon two young lambs; +and he hoped, in a reasonable time to propagate the breed of naked +sheep, all over the kingdom. + +We crossed a walk to the other part of the academy, where, as I have +already said, the projectors in speculative learning resided. + +The first professor I saw, was in a very large room, with forty pupils +about him. After salutation, observing me to look earnestly upon a +frame, which took up the greatest part of both the length and breadth +of the room, he said, “Perhaps I might wonder to see him employed in a +project for improving speculative knowledge, by practical and +mechanical operations. But the world would soon be sensible of its +usefulness; and he flattered himself, that a more noble, exalted +thought never sprang in any other man’s head. Every one knew how +laborious the usual method is of attaining to arts and sciences; +whereas, by his contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable +charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in +philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without +the least assistance from genius or study.” He then led me to the +frame, about the sides, whereof all his pupils stood in ranks. It was +twenty feet square, placed in the middle of the room. The superficies +was composed of several bits of wood, about the bigness of a die, but +some larger than others. They were all linked together by slender +wires. These bits of wood were covered, on every square, with paper +pasted on them; and on these papers were written all the words of their +language, in their several moods, tenses, and declensions; but without +any order. The professor then desired me “to observe; for he was going +to set his engine at work.” The pupils, at his command, took each of +them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were forty fixed round the +edges of the frame; and giving them a sudden turn, the whole +disposition of the words was entirely changed. He then commanded +six-and-thirty of the lads, to read the several lines softly, as they +appeared upon the frame; and where they found three or four words +together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four +remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was repeated three or four +times, and at every turn, the engine was so contrived, that the words +shifted into new places, as the square bits of wood moved upside down. + +The frame + + +Six hours a day the young students were employed in this labour; and +the professor showed me several volumes in large folio, already +collected, of broken sentences, which he intended to piece together, +and out of those rich materials, to give the world a complete body of +all arts and sciences; which, however, might be still improved, and +much expedited, if the public would raise a fund for making and +employing five hundred such frames in Lagado, and oblige the managers +to contribute in common their several collections. + +He assured me “that this invention had employed all his thoughts from +his youth; that he had emptied the whole vocabulary into his frame, and +made the strictest computation of the general proportion there is in +books between the numbers of particles, nouns, and verbs, and other +parts of speech.” + +I made my humblest acknowledgment to this illustrious person, for his +great communicativeness; and promised, “if ever I had the good fortune +to return to my native country, that I would do him justice, as the +sole inventor of this wonderful machine;” the form and contrivance of +which I desired leave to delineate on paper, as in the figure here +annexed. I told him, “although it were the custom of our learned in +Europe to steal inventions from each other, who had thereby at least +this advantage, that it became a controversy which was the right owner; +yet I would take such caution, that he should have the honour entire, +without a rival.” + +We next went to the school of languages, where three professors sat in +consultation upon improving that of their own country. + +The first project was to shorten discourse by cutting polysyllables +into one, and leaving out verbs and participles, because, in reality, +all things imaginable are but nouns. + +The other project was, a scheme for entirely abolishing all words +whatsoever; and this was urged as a great advantage in point of health, +as well as brevity. For it is plain, that every word we speak is, in +some degree, a diminution of our lungs by corrosion, and, consequently, +contributes to the shortening of our lives. An expedient was therefore +offered, “that since words are only names for _things_, it would be +more convenient for all men to carry about them such things as were +necessary to express a particular business they are to discourse on.” +And this invention would certainly have taken place, to the great ease +as well as health of the subject, if the women, in conjunction with the +vulgar and illiterate, had not threatened to raise a rebellion unless +they might be allowed the liberty to speak with their tongues, after +the manner of their forefathers; such constant irreconcilable enemies +to science are the common people. However, many of the most learned and +wise adhere to the new scheme of expressing themselves by things; which +has only this inconvenience attending it, that if a man’s business be +very great, and of various kinds, he must be obliged, in proportion, to +carry a greater bundle of things upon his back, unless he can afford +one or two strong servants to attend him. I have often beheld two of +those sages almost sinking under the weight of their packs, like +pedlars among us, who, when they met in the street, would lay down +their loads, open their sacks, and hold conversation for an hour +together; then put up their implements, help each other to resume their +burdens, and take their leave. + +But for short conversations, a man may carry implements in his pockets, +and under his arms, enough to supply him; and in his house, he cannot +be at a loss. Therefore the room where company meet who practise this +art, is full of all things, ready at hand, requisite to furnish matter +for this kind of artificial converse. + +Another great advantage proposed by this invention was, that it would +serve as a universal language, to be understood in all civilised +nations, whose goods and utensils are generally of the same kind, or +nearly resembling, so that their uses might easily be comprehended. And +thus ambassadors would be qualified to treat with foreign princes, or +ministers of state, to whose tongues they were utter strangers. + +I was at the mathematical school, where the master taught his pupils +after a method scarce imaginable to us in Europe. The proposition, and +demonstration, were fairly written on a thin wafer, with ink composed +of a cephalic tincture. This, the student was to swallow upon a fasting +stomach, and for three days following, eat nothing but bread and water. +As the wafer digested, the tincture mounted to his brain, bearing the +proposition along with it. But the success has not hitherto been +answerable, partly by some error in the _quantum_ or composition, and +partly by the perverseness of lads, to whom this bolus is so nauseous, +that they generally steal aside, and discharge it upwards, before it +can operate; neither have they been yet persuaded to use so long an +abstinence, as the prescription requires. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A further account of the academy. The author proposes some +improvements, which are honourably received. + + +In the school of political projectors, I was but ill entertained; the +professors appearing, in my judgment, wholly out of their senses, which +is a scene that never fails to make me melancholy. These unhappy people +were proposing schemes for persuading monarchs to choose favourites +upon the score of their wisdom, capacity, and virtue; of teaching +ministers to consult the public good; of rewarding merit, great +abilities, eminent services; of instructing princes to know their true +interest, by placing it on the same foundation with that of their +people; of choosing for employments persons qualified to exercise them, +with many other wild, impossible chimeras, that never entered before +into the heart of man to conceive; and confirmed in me the old +observation, “that there is nothing so extravagant and irrational, +which some philosophers have not maintained for truth.” + +But, however, I shall so far do justice to this part of the Academy, as +to acknowledge that all of them were not so visionary. There was a most +ingenious doctor, who seemed to be perfectly versed in the whole nature +and system of government. This illustrious person had very usefully +employed his studies, in finding out effectual remedies for all +diseases and corruptions to which the several kinds of public +administration are subject, by the vices or infirmities of those who +govern, as well as by the licentiousness of those who are to obey. For +instance: whereas all writers and reasoners have agreed, that there is +a strict universal resemblance between the natural and the political +body; can there be any thing more evident, than that the health of both +must be preserved, and the diseases cured, by the same prescriptions? +It is allowed, that senates and great councils are often troubled with +redundant, ebullient, and other peccant humours; with many diseases of +the head, and more of the heart; with strong convulsions, with grievous +contractions of the nerves and sinews in both hands, but especially the +right; with spleen, flatus, vertigos, and deliriums; with scrofulous +tumours, full of fetid purulent matter; with sour frothy ructations: +with canine appetites, and crudeness of digestion, besides many others, +needless to mention. This doctor therefore proposed, “that upon the +meeting of the senate, certain physicians should attend it the three +first days of their sitting, and at the close of each day’s debate feel +the pulses of every senator; after which, having maturely considered +and consulted upon the nature of the several maladies, and the methods +of cure, they should on the fourth day return to the senate house, +attended by their apothecaries stored with proper medicines; and before +the members sat, administer to each of them lenitives, aperitives, +abstersives, corrosives, restringents, palliatives, laxatives, +cephalalgics, icterics, apophlegmatics, acoustics, as their several +cases required; and, according as these medicines should operate, +repeat, alter, or omit them, at the next meeting.” + +This project could not be of any great expense to the public; and might +in my poor opinion, be of much use for the despatch of business, in +those countries where senates have any share in the legislative power; +beget unanimity, shorten debates, open a few mouths which are now +closed, and close many more which are now open; curb the petulancy of +the young, and correct the positiveness of the old; rouse the stupid, +and damp the pert. + +Again, because it is a general complaint, that the favourites of +princes are troubled with short and weak memories; the same doctor +proposed, “that whoever attended a first minister, after having told +his business, with the utmost brevity and in the plainest words, +should, at his departure, give the said minister a tweak by the nose, +or a kick in the belly, or tread on his corns, or lug him thrice by +both ears, or run a pin into his breech; or pinch his arm black and +blue, to prevent forgetfulness; and at every levee day, repeat the same +operation, till the business were done, or absolutely refused.” + +He likewise directed, “that every senator in the great council of a +nation, after he had delivered his opinion, and argued in the defence +of it, should be obliged to give his vote directly contrary; because if +that were done, the result would infallibly terminate in the good of +the public.” + +When parties in a state are violent, he offered a wonderful contrivance +to reconcile them. The method is this: You take a hundred leaders of +each party; you dispose them into couples of such whose heads are +nearest of a size; then let two nice operators saw off the occiput of +each couple at the same time, in such a manner that the brain may be +equally divided. Let the occiputs, thus cut off, be interchanged, +applying each to the head of his opposite party-man. It seems indeed to +be a work that requires some exactness, but the professor assured us, +“that if it were dexterously performed, the cure would be infallible.” +For he argued thus: “that the two half brains being left to debate the +matter between themselves within the space of one skull, would soon +come to a good understanding, and produce that moderation, as well as +regularity of thinking, so much to be wished for in the heads of those, +who imagine they come into the world only to watch and govern its +motion: and as to the difference of brains, in quantity or quality, +among those who are directors in faction,” the doctor assured us, from +his own knowledge, that “it was a perfect trifle.” + +I heard a very warm debate between two professors, about the most +commodious and effectual ways and means of raising money, without +grieving the subject. The first affirmed, “the justest method would be, +to lay a certain tax upon vices and folly; and the sum fixed upon every +man to be rated, after the fairest manner, by a jury of his +neighbours.” The second was of an opinion directly contrary; “to tax +those qualities of body and mind, for which men chiefly value +themselves; the rate to be more or less, according to the degrees of +excelling; the decision whereof should be left entirely to their own +breast.” The highest tax was upon men who are the greatest favourites +of the other sex, and the assessments, according to the number and +nature of the favours they have received; for which, they are allowed +to be their own vouchers. Wit, valour, and politeness, were likewise +proposed to be largely taxed, and collected in the same manner, by +every person’s giving his own word for the quantum of what he +possessed. But as to honour, justice, wisdom, and learning, they should +not be taxed at all; because they are qualifications of so singular a +kind, that no man will either allow them in his neighbour or value them +in himself. + +The women were proposed to be taxed according to their beauty and skill +in dressing, wherein they had the same privilege with the men, to be +determined by their own judgment. But constancy, chastity, good sense, +and good nature, were not rated, because they would not bear the charge +of collecting. + +To keep senators in the interest of the crown, it was proposed that the +members should raffle for employments; every man first taking an oath, +and giving security, that he would vote for the court, whether he won +or not; after which, the losers had, in their turn, the liberty of +raffling upon the next vacancy. Thus, hope and expectation would be +kept alive; none would complain of broken promises, but impute their +disappointments wholly to fortune, whose shoulders are broader and +stronger than those of a ministry. + +Another professor showed me a large paper of instructions for +discovering plots and conspiracies against the government. He advised +great statesmen to examine into the diet of all suspected persons; +their times of eating; upon which side they lay in bed; with which hand +they wipe their posteriors; take a strict view of their excrements, +and, from the colour, the odour, the taste, the consistence, the +crudeness or maturity of digestion, form a judgment of their thoughts +and designs; because men are never so serious, thoughtful, and intent, +as when they are at stool, which he found by frequent experiment; for, +in such conjunctures, when he used, merely as a trial, to consider +which was the best way of murdering the king, his ordure would have a +tincture of green; but quite different, when he thought only of raising +an insurrection, or burning the metropolis. + +The whole discourse was written with great acuteness, containing many +observations, both curious and useful for politicians; but, as I +conceived, not altogether complete. This I ventured to tell the author, +and offered, if he pleased, to supply him with some additions. He +received my proposition with more compliance than is usual among +writers, especially those of the projecting species, professing “he +would be glad to receive further information.” + +I told him, “that in the kingdom of Tribnia, [454a] by the natives +called Langden, [454b] where I had sojourned some time in my travels, +the bulk of the people consist in a manner wholly of discoverers, +witnesses, informers, accusers, prosecutors, evidences, swearers, +together with their several subservient and subaltern instruments, all +under the colours, the conduct, and the pay of ministers of state, and +their deputies. The plots, in that kingdom, are usually the workmanship +of those persons who desire to raise their own characters of profound +politicians; to restore new vigour to a crazy administration; to stifle +or divert general discontents; to fill their coffers with forfeitures; +and raise, or sink the opinion of public credit, as either shall best +answer their private advantage. It is first agreed and settled among +them, what suspected persons shall be accused of a plot; then, +effectual care is taken to secure all their letters and papers, and put +the owners in chains. These papers are delivered to a set of artists, +very dexterous in finding out the mysterious meanings of words, +syllables, and letters: for instance, they can discover a close stool, +to signify a privy council; a flock of geese, a senate; a lame dog, an +invader; a codshead; a ——; the plague, a standing army; a buzzard, a +prime minister; the gout, a high priest; a gibbet, a secretary of +state; a chamber pot, a committee of grandees; a sieve, a court lady; a +broom, a revolution; a mouse-trap, an employment; a bottomless pit, a +treasury; a sink, a court; a cap and bells, a favourite; a broken reed, +a court of justice; an empty tun, a general; a running sore, the +administration. [455] + +“When this method fails, they have two others more effectual, which the +learned among them call acrostics and anagrams. First, they can +decipher all initial letters into political meanings. Thus _N_. shall +signify a plot; _B_. a regiment of horse; _L_. a fleet at sea; or, +secondly, by transposing the letters of the alphabet in any suspected +paper, they can lay open the deepest designs of a discontented party. +So, for example, if I should say, in a letter to a friend, ‘Our brother +Tom has just got the piles,’ a skilful decipherer would discover, that +the same letters which compose that sentence, may be analysed into the +following words, ‘Resist, a plot is brought home; The tour.’ And this +is the anagrammatic method.” + +The professor made me great acknowledgments for communicating these +observations, and promised to make honourable mention of me in his +treatise. + +I saw nothing in this country that could invite me to a longer +continuance, and began to think of returning home to England. + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The author leaves Lagado: arrives at Maldonada. No ship ready. He takes +a short voyage to Glubbdubdrib. His reception by the governor. + + +The continent, of which this kingdom is apart, extends itself, as I +have reason to believe, eastward, to that unknown tract of America +westward of California; and north, to the Pacific Ocean, which is not +above a hundred and fifty miles from Lagado; where there is a good +port, and much commerce with the great island of Luggnagg, situated to +the north-west about 29 degrees north latitude, and 140 longitude. This +island of Luggnagg stands south-eastward of Japan, about a hundred +leagues distant. There is a strict alliance between the Japanese +emperor and the king of Luggnagg; which affords frequent opportunities +of sailing from one island to the other. I determined therefore to +direct my course this way, in order to direct my return to Europe. I +hired two mules, with a guide, to show me the way, and carry my small +baggage. I took leave of my noble protector, who had shown me so much +favour, and made me a generous present at my departure. + +My journey was without any accident or adventure worth relating. When I +arrived at the port of Maldonada (for so it is called) there was no +ship in the harbour bound for Luggnagg, nor likely to be in some time. +The town is about as large as Portsmouth. I soon fell into some +acquaintance, and was very hospitably received. A gentleman of +distinction said to me, “that since the ships bound for Luggnagg could +not be ready in less than a month, it might be no disagreeable +amusement for me to take a trip to the little island of Glubbdubdrib, +about five leagues off to the south-west.” He offered himself and a +friend to accompany me, and that I should be provided with a small +convenient bark for the voyage. + +Glubbdubdrib, as nearly as I can interpret the word, signifies the +island of sorcerers or magicians. It is about one third as large as the +Isle of Wight, and extremely fruitful: it is governed by the head of a +certain tribe, who are all magicians. This tribe marries only among +each other, and the eldest in succession is prince or governor. He has +a noble palace, and a park of about three thousand acres, surrounded by +a wall of hewn stone twenty feet high. In this park are several small +enclosures for cattle, corn, and gardening. + +The governor and his family are served and attended by domestics of a +kind somewhat unusual. By his skill in necromancy he has a power of +calling whom he pleases from the dead, and commanding their service for +twenty-four hours, but no longer; nor can he call the same persons up +again in less than three months, except upon very extraordinary +occasions. + +When we arrived at the island, which was about eleven in the morning, +one of the gentlemen who accompanied me went to the governor, and +desired admittance for a stranger, who came on purpose to have the +honour of attending on his highness. This was immediately granted, and +we all three entered the gate of the palace between two rows of guards, +armed and dressed after a very antic manner, and with something in +their countenances that made my flesh creep with a horror I cannot +express. We passed through several apartments, between servants of the +same sort, ranked on each side as before, till we came to the chamber +of presence; where, after three profound obeisances, and a few general +questions, we were permitted to sit on three stools, near the lowest +step of his highness’s throne. He understood the language of +Balnibarbi, although it was different from that of this island. He +desired me to give him some account of my travels; and, to let me see +that I should be treated without ceremony, he dismissed all his +attendants with a turn of his finger; at which, to my great +astonishment, they vanished in an instant, like visions in a dream when +we awake on a sudden. I could not recover myself in some time, till the +governor assured me, “that I should receive no hurt;” and observing my +two companions to be under no concern, who had been often entertained +in the same manner, I began to take courage, and related to his +highness a short history of my several adventures; yet not without some +hesitation, and frequently looking behind me to the place where I had +seen those domestic spectres. I had the honour to dine with the +governor, where a new set of ghosts served up the meat, and waited at +table. I now observed myself to be less terrified than I had been in +the morning. I stayed till sunset, but humbly desired his highness to +excuse me for not accepting his invitation of lodging in the palace. My +two friends and I lay at a private house in the town adjoining, which +is the capital of this little island; and the next morning we returned +to pay our duty to the governor, as he was pleased to command us. + +After this manner we continued in the island for ten days, most part of +every day with the governor, and at night in our lodging. I soon grew +so familiarized to the sight of spirits, that after the third or fourth +time they gave me no emotion at all: or, if I had any apprehensions +left, my curiosity prevailed over them. For his highness the governor +ordered me “to call up whatever persons I would choose to name, and in +whatever numbers, among all the dead from the beginning of the world to +the present time, and command them to answer any questions I should +think fit to ask; with this condition, that my questions must be +confined within the compass of the times they lived in. And one thing I +might depend upon, that they would certainly tell me the truth, for +lying was a talent of no use in the lower world.” + +I made my humble acknowledgments to his highness for so great a favour. +We were in a chamber, from whence there was a fair prospect into the +park. And because my first inclination was to be entertained with +scenes of pomp and magnificence, I desired to see Alexander the Great +at the head of his army, just after the battle of Arbela: which, upon a +motion of the governor’s finger, immediately appeared in a large field, +under the window where we stood. Alexander was called up into the room: +it was with great difficulty that I understood his Greek, and had but +little of my own. He assured me upon his honour “that he was not +poisoned, but died of a bad fever by excessive drinking.” + +Next, I saw Hannibal passing the Alps, who told me “he had not a drop +of vinegar in his camp.” + +I saw Cæsar and Pompey at the head of their troops, just ready to +engage. I saw the former, in his last great triumph. I desired that the +senate of Rome might appear before me, in one large chamber, and an +assembly of somewhat a later age in counterview, in another. The first +seemed to be an assembly of heroes and demigods; the other, a knot of +pedlars, pick-pockets, highwaymen, and bullies. + +The governor, at my request, gave the sign for Cæsar and Brutus to +advance towards us. I was struck with a profound veneration at the +sight of Brutus, and could easily discover the most consummate virtue, +the greatest intrepidity and firmness of mind, the truest love of his +country, and general benevolence for mankind, in every lineament of his +countenance. I observed, with much pleasure, that these two persons +were in good intelligence with each other; and Cæsar freely confessed +to me, “that the greatest actions of his own life were not equal, by +many degrees, to the glory of taking it away.” I had the honour to have +much conversation with Brutus; and was told, “that his ancestor Junius, +Socrates, Epaminondas, Cato the younger, Sir Thomas More, and himself +were perpetually together:” a sextumvirate, to which all the ages of +the world cannot add a seventh. + +It would be tedious to trouble the reader with relating what vast +numbers of illustrious persons were called up to gratify that +insatiable desire I had to see the world in every period of antiquity +placed before me. I chiefly fed my eyes with beholding the destroyers +of tyrants and usurpers, and the restorers of liberty to oppressed and +injured nations. But it is impossible to express the satisfaction I +received in my own mind, after such a manner as to make it a suitable +entertainment to the reader. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A further account of Glubbdubdrib. Ancient and modern history +corrected. + + +Having a desire to see those ancients who were most renowned for wit +and learning, I set apart one day on purpose. I proposed that Homer and +Aristotle might appear at the head of all their commentators; but these +were so numerous, that some hundreds were forced to attend in the +court, and outward rooms of the palace. I knew, and could distinguish +those two heroes, at first sight, not only from the crowd, but from +each other. Homer was the taller and comelier person of the two, walked +very erect for one of his age, and his eyes were the most quick and +piercing I ever beheld. Aristotle stooped much, and made use of a +staff. His visage was meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his voice +hollow. I soon discovered that both of them were perfect strangers to +the rest of the company, and had never seen or heard of them before; +and I had a whisper from a ghost who shall be nameless, “that these +commentators always kept in the most distant quarters from their +principals, in the lower world, through a consciousness of shame and +guilt, because they had so horribly misrepresented the meaning of those +authors to posterity.” I introduced Didymus and Eustathius to Homer, +and prevailed on him to treat them better than perhaps they deserved, +for he soon found they wanted a genius to enter into the spirit of a +poet. But Aristotle was out of all patience with the account I gave him +of Scotus and Ramus, as I presented them to him; and he asked them, +“whether the rest of the tribe were as great dunces as themselves?” + +I then desired the governor to call up Descartes and Gassendi, with +whom I prevailed to explain their systems to Aristotle. This great +philosopher freely acknowledged his own mistakes in natural philosophy, +because he proceeded in many things upon conjecture, as all men must +do; and he found that Gassendi, who had made the doctrine of Epicurus +as palatable as he could, and the _vortices_ of Descartes, were equally +to be exploded. He predicted the same fate to _attraction_, whereof the +present learned are such zealous asserters. He said, “that new systems +of nature were but new fashions, which would vary in every age; and +even those, who pretend to demonstrate them from mathematical +principles, would flourish but a short period of time, and be out of +vogue when that was determined.” + +I spent five days in conversing with many others of the ancient +learned. I saw most of the first Roman emperors. I prevailed on the +governor to call up Heliogabalus’s cooks to dress us a dinner, but they +could not show us much of their skill, for want of materials. A helot +of Agesilaus made us a dish of Spartan broth, but I was not able to get +down a second spoonful. + +The two gentlemen, who conducted me to the island, were pressed by +their private affairs to return in three days, which I employed in +seeing some of the modern dead, who had made the greatest figure, for +two or three hundred years past, in our own and other countries of +Europe; and having been always a great admirer of old illustrious +families, I desired the governor would call up a dozen or two of kings, +with their ancestors in order for eight or nine generations. But my +disappointment was grievous and unexpected. For, instead of a long +train with royal diadems, I saw in one family two fiddlers, three +spruce courtiers, and an Italian prelate. In another, a barber, an +abbot, and two cardinals. I have too great a veneration for crowned +heads, to dwell any longer on so nice a subject. But as to counts, +marquises, dukes, earls, and the like, I was not so scrupulous. And I +confess, it was not without some pleasure, that I found myself able to +trace the particular features, by which certain families are +distinguished, up to their originals. I could plainly discover whence +one family derives a long chin; why a second has abounded with knaves +for two generations, and fools for two more; why a third happened to be +crack-brained, and a fourth to be sharpers; whence it came, what +Polydore Virgil says of a certain great house, _Nec vir fortis_, _nec +femina casta_; how cruelty, falsehood, and cowardice, grew to be +characteristics by which certain families are distinguished as much as +by their coats of arms; who first brought the pox into a noble house, +which has lineally descended scrofulous tumours to their posterity. +Neither could I wonder at all this, when I saw such an interruption of +lineages, by pages, lackeys, valets, coachmen, gamesters, fiddlers, +players, captains, and pickpockets. + +I was chiefly disgusted with modern history. For having strictly +examined all the persons of greatest name in the courts of princes, for +a hundred years past, I found how the world had been misled by +prostitute writers, to ascribe the greatest exploits in war, to +cowards; the wisest counsel, to fools; sincerity, to flatterers; Roman +virtue, to betrayers of their country; piety, to atheists; chastity, to +sodomites; truth, to informers: how many innocent and excellent persons +had been condemned to death or banishment by the practising of great +ministers upon the corruption of judges, and the malice of factions: +how many villains had been exalted to the highest places of trust, +power, dignity, and profit: how great a share in the motions and events +of courts, councils, and senates might be challenged by bawds, whores, +pimps, parasites, and buffoons. How low an opinion I had of human +wisdom and integrity, when I was truly informed of the springs and +motives of great enterprises and revolutions in the world, and of the +contemptible accidents to which they owed their success. + +Here I discovered the roguery and ignorance of those who pretend to +write anecdotes, or secret history; who send so many kings to their +graves with a cup of poison; will repeat the discourse between a prince +and chief minister, where no witness was by; unlock the thoughts and +cabinets of ambassadors and secretaries of state; and have the +perpetual misfortune to be mistaken. Here I discovered the true causes +of many great events that have surprised the world; how a whore can +govern the back-stairs, the back-stairs a council, and the council a +senate. A general confessed, in my presence, “that he got a victory +purely by the force of cowardice and ill conduct;” and an admiral, +“that, for want of proper intelligence, he beat the enemy, to whom he +intended to betray the fleet.” Three kings protested to me, “that in +their whole reigns they never did once prefer any person of merit, +unless by mistake, or treachery of some minister in whom they confided; +neither would they do it if they were to live again:” and they showed, +with great strength of reason, “that the royal throne could not be +supported without corruption, because that positive, confident, restiff +temper, which virtue infused into a man, was a perpetual clog to public +business.” + +I had the curiosity to inquire in a particular manner, by what methods +great numbers had procured to themselves high titles of honour, and +prodigious estates; and I confined my inquiry to a very modern period: +however, without grating upon present times, because I would be sure to +give no offence even to foreigners (for I hope the reader need not be +told, that I do not in the least intend my own country, in what I say +upon this occasion,) a great number of persons concerned were called +up; and, upon a very slight examination, discovered such a scene of +infamy, that I cannot reflect upon it without some seriousness. +Perjury, oppression, subornation, fraud, pandarism, and the like +infirmities, were among the most excusable arts they had to mention; +and for these I gave, as it was reasonable, great allowance. But when +some confessed they owed their greatness and wealth to sodomy, or +incest; others, to the prostituting of their own wives and daughters; +others, to the betraying of their country or their prince; some, to +poisoning; more to the perverting of justice, in order to destroy the +innocent, I hope I may be pardoned, if these discoveries inclined me a +little to abate of that profound veneration, which I am naturally apt +to pay to persons of high rank, who ought to be treated with the utmost +respect due to their sublime dignity, by us their inferiors. + +I had often read of some great services done to princes and states, and +desired to see the persons by whom those services were performed. Upon +inquiry I was told, “that their names were to be found on no record, +except a few of them, whom history has represented as the vilest of +rogues and traitors.” As to the rest, I had never once heard of them. +They all appeared with dejected looks, and in the meanest habit; most +of them telling me, “they died in poverty and disgrace, and the rest on +a scaffold or a gibbet.” + +Among others, there was one person, whose case appeared a little +singular. He had a youth about eighteen years old standing by his side. +He told me, “he had for many years been commander of a ship; and in the +sea fight at Actium had the good fortune to break through the enemy’s +great line of battle, sink three of their capital ships, and take a +fourth, which was the sole cause of Antony’s flight, and of the victory +that ensued; that the youth standing by him, his only son, was killed +in the action.” He added, “that upon the confidence of some merit, the +war being at an end, he went to Rome, and solicited at the court of +Augustus to be preferred to a greater ship, whose commander had been +killed; but, without any regard to his pretensions, it was given to a +boy who had never seen the sea, the son of Libertina, who waited on one +of the emperor’s mistresses. Returning back to his own vessel, he was +charged with neglect of duty, and the ship given to a favourite page of +Publicola, the vice-admiral; whereupon he retired to a poor farm at a +great distance from Rome, and there ended his life.” I was so curious +to know the truth of this story, that I desired Agrippa might be +called, who was admiral in that fight. He appeared, and confirmed the +whole account: but with much more advantage to the captain, whose +modesty had extenuated or concealed a great part of his merit. + +I was surprised to find corruption grown so high and so quick in that +empire, by the force of luxury so lately introduced; which made me less +wonder at many parallel cases in other countries, where vices of all +kinds have reigned so much longer, and where the whole praise, as well +as pillage, has been engrossed by the chief commander, who perhaps had +the least title to either. + +As every person called up made exactly the same appearance he had done +in the world, it gave me melancholy reflections to observe how much the +race of humankind was degenerated among us within these hundred years +past; how the pox, under all its consequences and denominations had +altered every lineament of an English countenance; shortened the size +of bodies, unbraced the nerves, relaxed the sinews and muscles, +introduced a sallow complexion, and rendered the flesh loose and +rancid. + +I descended so low, as to desire some English yeoman of the old stamp +might be summoned to appear; once so famous for the simplicity of their +manners, diet, and dress; for justice in their dealings; for their true +spirit of liberty; for their valour, and love of their country. Neither +could I be wholly unmoved, after comparing the living with the dead, +when I considered how all these pure native virtues were prostituted +for a piece of money by their grand-children; who, in selling their +votes and managing at elections, have acquired every vice and +corruption that can possibly be learned in a court. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +The author returns to Maldonada. Sails to the kingdom of Luggnagg. The +author confined. He is sent for to court. The manner of his admittance. +The king’s great lenity to his subjects. + + +The day of our departure being come, I took leave of his highness, the +Governor of Glubbdubdrib, and returned with my two companions to +Maldonada, where, after a fortnight’s waiting, a ship was ready to sail +for Luggnagg. The two gentlemen, and some others, were so generous and +kind as to furnish me with provisions, and see me on board. I was a +month in this voyage. We had one violent storm, and were under a +necessity of steering westward to get into the trade wind, which holds +for above sixty leagues. On the 21st of April, 1708, we sailed into the +river of Clumegnig, which is a seaport town, at the south-east point of +Luggnagg. We cast anchor within a league of the town, and made a signal +for a pilot. Two of them came on board in less than half an hour, by +whom we were guided between certain shoals and rocks, which are very +dangerous in the passage, to a large basin, where a fleet may ride in +safety within a cable’s length of the town-wall. + +Some of our sailors, whether out of treachery or inadvertence, had +informed the pilots “that I was a stranger, and great traveller;” +whereof these gave notice to a custom-house officer, by whom I was +examined very strictly upon my landing. This officer spoke to me in the +language of Balnibarbi, which, by the force of much commerce, is +generally understood in that town, especially by seamen and those +employed in the customs. I gave him a short account of some +particulars, and made my story as plausible and consistent as I could; +but I thought it necessary to disguise my country, and call myself a +Hollander; because my intentions were for Japan, and I knew the Dutch +were the only Europeans permitted to enter into that kingdom. I +therefore told the officer, “that having been shipwrecked on the coast +of Balnibarbi, and cast on a rock, I was received up into Laputa, or +the flying island (of which he had often heard), and was now +endeavouring to get to Japan, whence I might find a convenience of +returning to my own country.” The officer said, “I must be confined +till he could receive orders from court, for which he would write +immediately, and hoped to receive an answer in a fortnight.” I was +carried to a convenient lodging with a sentry placed at the door; +however, I had the liberty of a large garden, and was treated with +humanity enough, being maintained all the time at the king’s charge. I +was invited by several persons, chiefly out of curiosity, because it +was reported that I came from countries very remote, of which they had +never heard. + +I hired a young man, who came in the same ship, to be an interpreter; +he was a native of Luggnagg, but had lived some years at Maldonada, and +was a perfect master of both languages. By his assistance, I was able +to hold a conversation with those who came to visit me; but this +consisted only of their questions, and my answers. + +The despatch came from court about the time we expected. It contained a +warrant for conducting me and my retinue to _Traldragdubh_, or +_Trildrogdrib_ (for it is pronounced both ways as near as I can +remember), by a party of ten horse. All my retinue was that poor lad +for an interpreter, whom I persuaded into my service, and, at my humble +request, we had each of us a mule to ride on. A messenger was +despatched half a day’s journey before us, to give the king notice of +my approach, and to desire, “that his majesty would please to appoint a +day and hour, when it would by his gracious pleasure that I might have +the honour to lick the dust before his footstool.” This is the court +style, and I found it to be more than matter of form: for, upon my +admittance two days after my arrival, I was commanded to crawl upon my +belly, and lick the floor as I advanced; but, on account of my being a +stranger, care was taken to have it made so clean, that the dust was +not offensive. However, this was a peculiar grace, not allowed to any +but persons of the highest rank, when they desire an admittance. Nay, +sometimes the floor is strewed with dust on purpose, when the person to +be admitted happens to have powerful enemies at court; and I have seen +a great lord with his mouth so crammed, that when he had crept to the +proper distance from the throne; he was not able to speak a word. +Neither is there any remedy; because it is capital for those who +receive an audience to spit or wipe their mouths in his majesty’s +presence. There is indeed another custom, which I cannot altogether +approve of: when the king has a mind to put any of his nobles to death +in a gentle indulgent manner, he commands the floor to be strewed with +a certain brown powder of a deadly composition, which being licked up, +infallibly kills him in twenty-four hours. But in justice to this +prince’s great clemency, and the care he has of his subjects’ lives +(wherein it were much to be wished that the Monarchs of Europe would +imitate him), it must be mentioned for his honour, that strict orders +are given to have the infected parts of the floor well washed after +every such execution, which, if his domestics neglect, they are in +danger of incurring his royal displeasure. I myself heard him give +directions, that one of his pages should be whipped, whose turn it was +to give notice about washing the floor after an execution, but +maliciously had omitted it; by which neglect a young lord of great +hopes, coming to an audience, was unfortunately poisoned, although the +king at that time had no design against his life. But this good prince +was so gracious as to forgive the poor page his whipping, upon promise +that he would do so no more, without special orders. + +To return from this digression. When I had crept within four yards of +the throne, I raised myself gently upon my knees, and then striking my +forehead seven times against the ground, I pronounced the following +words, as they had been taught me the night before, _Ickpling +gloffthrobb squutserumm blhiop mlashnalt zwin tnodbalkguffh slhiophad +gurdlubh asht_. This is the compliment, established by the laws of the +land, for all persons admitted to the king’s presence. It may be +rendered into English thus: “May your celestial majesty outlive the +sun, eleven moons and a half!” To this the king returned some answer, +which, although I could not understand, yet I replied as I had been +directed: _Fluft drin yalerick dwuldom prastrad mirpush_, which +properly signifies, “My tongue is in the mouth of my friend;” and by +this expression was meant, that I desired leave to bring my +interpreter; whereupon the young man already mentioned was accordingly +introduced, by whose intervention I answered as many questions as his +majesty could put in above an hour. I spoke in the Balnibarbian tongue, +and my interpreter delivered my meaning in that of Luggnagg. + +The king was much delighted with my company, and ordered his +_bliffmarklub_, or high-chamberlain, to appoint a lodging in the court +for me and my interpreter; with a daily allowance for my table, and a +large purse of gold for my common expenses. + +I staid three months in this country, out of perfect obedience to his +majesty; who was pleased highly to favour me, and made me very +honourable offers. But I thought it more consistent with prudence and +justice to pass the remainder of my days with my wife and family. + + +CHAPTER X. + +The Luggnaggians commended. A particular description of the +Struldbrugs, with many conversations between the author and some +eminent persons upon that subject. + + +The Luggnaggians are a polite and generous people; and although they +are not without some share of that pride which is peculiar to all +Eastern countries, yet they show themselves courteous to strangers, +especially such who are countenanced by the court. I had many +acquaintance, and among persons of the best fashion; and being always +attended by my interpreter, the conversation we had was not +disagreeable. + +One day, in much good company, I was asked by a person of quality, +“whether I had seen any of their _struldbrugs_, or immortals?” I said, +“I had not;” and desired he would explain to me “what he meant by such +an appellation, applied to a mortal creature.” He told me “that +sometimes, though very rarely, a child happened to be born in a family, +with a red circular spot in the forehead, directly over the left +eyebrow, which was an infallible mark that it should never die.” The +spot, as he described it, “was about the compass of a silver +threepence, but in the course of time grew larger, and changed its +colour; for at twelve years old it became green, so continued till five +and twenty, then turned to a deep blue: at five and forty it grew coal +black, and as large as an English shilling; but never admitted any +further alteration.” He said, “these births were so rare, that he did +not believe there could be above eleven hundred struldbrugs, of both +sexes, in the whole kingdom; of which he computed about fifty in the +metropolis, and, among the rest, a young girl born; about three years +ago: that these productions were not peculiar to any family, but a mere +effect of chance; and the children of the _struldbrugs_ themselves were +equally mortal with the rest of the people.” + +I freely own myself to have been struck with inexpressible delight, +upon hearing this account: and the person who gave it me happening to +understand the Balnibarbian language, which I spoke very well, I could +not forbear breaking out into expressions, perhaps a little too +extravagant. I cried out, as in a rapture, “Happy nation, where every +child hath at least a chance for being immortal! Happy people, who +enjoy so many living examples of ancient virtue, and have masters ready +to instruct them in the wisdom of all former ages! but happiest, beyond +all comparison, are those excellent _struldbrugs_, who, being born +exempt from that universal calamity of human nature, have their minds +free and disengaged, without the weight and depression of spirits +caused by the continual apprehensions of death!” I discovered my +admiration, “that I had not observed any of these illustrious persons +at court; the black spot on the forehead being so remarkable a +distinction, that I could not have easily overlooked it: and it was +impossible that his majesty, a most judicious prince, should not +provide himself with a good number of such wise and able counsellors. +Yet perhaps the virtue of those reverend sages was too strict for the +corrupt and libertine manners of a court: and we often find by +experience, that young men are too opinionated and volatile to be +guided by the sober dictates of their seniors. However, since the king +was pleased to allow me access to his royal person, I was resolved, +upon the very first occasion, to deliver my opinion to him on this +matter freely and at large, by the help of my interpreter; and whether +he would please to take my advice or not, yet in one thing I was +determined, that his majesty having frequently offered me an +establishment in this country, I would, with great thankfulness, accept +the favour, and pass my life here in the conversation of those superior +beings the _struldbrugs_, if they would please to admit me.” + +The gentleman to whom I addressed my discourse, because (as I have +already observed) he spoke the language of Balnibarbi, said to me, with +a sort of a smile which usually arises from pity to the ignorant, “that +he was glad of any occasion to keep me among them, and desired my +permission to explain to the company what I had spoke.” He did so, and +they talked together for some time in their own language, whereof I +understood not a syllable, neither could I observe by their +countenances, what impression my discourse had made on them. After a +short silence, the same person told me, “that his friends and mine (so +he thought fit to express himself) were very much pleased with the +judicious remarks I had made on the great happiness and advantages of +immortal life, and they were desirous to know, in a particular manner, +what scheme of living I should have formed to myself, if it had fallen +to my lot to have been born a _struldbrug_.” + +I answered, “it was easy to be eloquent on so copious and delightful a +subject, especially to me, who had been often apt to amuse myself with +visions of what I should do, if I were a king, a general, or a great +lord: and upon this very case, I had frequently run over the whole +system how I should employ myself, and pass the time, if I were sure to +live for ever. + +“That, if it had been my good fortune to come into the world a +_struldbrug_, as soon as I could discover my own happiness, by +understanding the difference between life and death, I would first +resolve, by all arts and methods, whatsoever, to procure myself riches. +In the pursuit of which, by thrift and management, I might reasonably +expect, in about two hundred years, to be the wealthiest man in the +kingdom. In the second place, I would, from my earliest youth, apply +myself to the study of arts and sciences, by which I should arrive in +time to excel all others in learning. Lastly, I would carefully record +every action and event of consequence, that happened in the public, +impartially draw the characters of the several successions of princes +and great ministers of state, with my own observations on every point. +I would exactly set down the several changes in customs, language, +fashions of dress, diet, and diversions. By all which acquirements, I +should be a living treasure of knowledge and wisdom, and certainly +become the oracle of the nation. + +“I would never marry after threescore, but live in a hospitable manner, +yet still on the saving side. I would entertain myself in forming and +directing the minds of hopeful young men, by convincing them, from my +own remembrance, experience, and observation, fortified by numerous +examples, of the usefulness of virtue in public and private life. But +my choice and constant companions should be a set of my own immortal +brotherhood; among whom, I would elect a dozen from the most ancient, +down to my own contemporaries. Where any of these wanted fortunes, I +would provide them with convenient lodges round my own estate, and have +some of them always at my table; only mingling a few of the most +valuable among you mortals, whom length of time would harden me to lose +with little or no reluctance, and treat your posterity after the same +manner; just as a man diverts himself with the annual succession of +pinks and tulips in his garden, without regretting the loss of those +which withered the preceding year. + +“These _struldbrugs_ and I would mutually communicate our observations +and memorials, through the course of time; remark the several +gradations by which corruption steals into the world, and oppose it in +every step, by giving perpetual warning and instruction to mankind; +which, added to the strong influence of our own example, would probably +prevent that continual degeneracy of human nature so justly complained +of in all ages. + +“Add to this, the pleasure of seeing the various revolutions of states +and empires; the changes in the lower and upper world; ancient cities +in ruins, and obscure villages become the seats of kings; famous rivers +lessening into shallow brooks; the ocean leaving one coast dry, and +overwhelming another; the discovery of many countries yet unknown; +barbarity overrunning the politest nations, and the most barbarous +become civilized. I should then see the discovery of the longitude, the +perpetual motion, the universal medicine, and many other great +inventions, brought to the utmost perfection. + +“What wonderful discoveries should we make in astronomy, by outliving +and confirming our own predictions; by observing the progress and +return of comets, with the changes of motion in the sun, moon, and +stars!” + +I enlarged upon many other topics, which the natural desire of endless +life, and sublunary happiness, could easily furnish me with. When I had +ended, and the sum of my discourse had been interpreted, as before, to +the rest of the company, there was a good deal of talk among them in +the language of the country, not without some laughter at my expense. +At last, the same gentleman who had been my interpreter, said, “he was +desired by the rest to set me right in a few mistakes, which I had +fallen into through the common imbecility of human nature, and upon +that allowance was less answerable for them. That this breed of +_struldbrugs_ was peculiar to their country, for there were no such +people either in Balnibarbi or Japan, where he had the honour to be +ambassador from his majesty, and found the natives in both those +kingdoms very hard to believe that the fact was possible: and it +appeared from my astonishment when he first mentioned the matter to me, +that I received it as a thing wholly new, and scarcely to be credited. +That in the two kingdoms above mentioned, where, during his residence, +he had conversed very much, he observed long life to be the universal +desire and wish of mankind. That whoever had one foot in the grave was +sure to hold back the other as strongly as he could. That the oldest +had still hopes of living one day longer, and looked on death as the +greatest evil, from which nature always prompted him to retreat. Only +in this island of Luggnagg the appetite for living was not so eager, +from the continual example of the _struldbrugs_ before their eyes. + +“That the system of living contrived by me, was unreasonable and +unjust; because it supposed a perpetuity of youth, health, and vigour, +which no man could be so foolish to hope, however extravagant he may be +in his wishes. That the question therefore was not, whether a man would +choose to be always in the prime of youth, attended with prosperity and +health; but how he would pass a perpetual life under all the usual +disadvantages which old age brings along with it. For although few men +will avow their desires of being immortal, upon such hard conditions, +yet in the two kingdoms before mentioned, of Balnibarbi and Japan, he +observed that every man desired to put off death some time longer, let +it approach ever so late: and he rarely heard of any man who died +willingly, except he were incited by the extremity of grief or torture. +And he appealed to me, whether in those countries I had travelled, as +well as my own, I had not observed the same general disposition.” + +After this preface, he gave me a particular account of the +_struldbrugs_ among them. He said, “they commonly acted like mortals +till about thirty years old; after which, by degrees, they grew +melancholy and dejected, increasing in both till they came to +fourscore. This he learned from their own confession: for otherwise, +there not being above two or three of that species born in an age, they +were too few to form a general observation by. When they came to +fourscore years, which is reckoned the extremity of living in this +country, they had not only all the follies and infirmities of other old +men, but many more which arose from the dreadful prospect of never +dying. They were not only opinionative, peevish, covetous, morose, +vain, talkative, but incapable of friendship, and dead to all natural +affection, which never descended below their grandchildren. Envy and +impotent desires are their prevailing passions. But those objects +against which their envy seems principally directed, are the vices of +the younger sort and the deaths of the old. By reflecting on the +former, they find themselves cut off from all possibility of pleasure; +and whenever they see a funeral, they lament and repine that others +have gone to a harbour of rest to which they themselves never can hope +to arrive. They have no remembrance of anything but what they learned +and observed in their youth and middle-age, and even that is very +imperfect; and for the truth or particulars of any fact, it is safer to +depend on common tradition, than upon their best recollections. The +least miserable among them appear to be those who turn to dotage, and +entirely lose their memories; these meet with more pity and assistance, +because they want many bad qualities which abound in others. + +“If a _struldbrug_ happen to marry one of his own kind, the marriage is +dissolved of course, by the courtesy of the kingdom, as soon as the +younger of the two comes to be fourscore; for the law thinks it a +reasonable indulgence, that those who are condemned, without any fault +of their own, to a perpetual continuance in the world, should not have +their misery doubled by the load of a wife. + +“As soon as they have completed the term of eighty years, they are +looked on as dead in law; their heirs immediately succeed to their +estates; only a small pittance is reserved for their support; and the +poor ones are maintained at the public charge. After that period, they +are held incapable of any employment of trust or profit; they cannot +purchase lands, or take leases; neither are they allowed to be +witnesses in any cause, either civil or criminal, not even for the +decision of meers and bounds. + +“At ninety, they lose their teeth and hair; they have at that age no +distinction of taste, but eat and drink whatever they can get, without +relish or appetite. The diseases they were subject to still continue, +without increasing or diminishing. In talking, they forget the common +appellation of things, and the names of persons, even of those who are +their nearest friends and relations. For the same reason, they never +can amuse themselves with reading, because their memory will not serve +to carry them from the beginning of a sentence to the end; and by this +defect, they are deprived of the only entertainment whereof they might +otherwise be capable. + +“The language of this country being always upon the flux, the +_struldbrugs_ of one age do not understand those of another; neither +are they able, after two hundred years, to hold any conversation +(farther than by a few general words) with their neighbours the +mortals; and thus they lie under the disadvantage of living like +foreigners in their own country.” + +This was the account given me of the _struldbrugs_, as near as I can +remember. I afterwards saw five or six of different ages, the youngest +not above two hundred years old, who were brought to me at several +times by some of my friends; but although they were told, “that I was a +great traveller, and had seen all the world,” they had not the least +curiosity to ask me a question; only desired “I would give them +_slumskudask_,” or a token of remembrance; which is a modest way of +begging, to avoid the law, that strictly forbids it, because they are +provided for by the public, although indeed with a very scanty +allowance. + +They are despised and hated by all sorts of people. When one of them is +born, it is reckoned ominous, and their birth is recorded very +particularly so that you may know their age by consulting the register, +which, however, has not been kept above a thousand years past, or at +least has been destroyed by time or public disturbances. But the usual +way of computing how old they are, is by asking them what kings or +great persons they can remember, and then consulting history; for +infallibly the last prince in their mind did not begin his reign after +they were fourscore years old. + +They were the most mortifying sight I ever beheld; and the women more +horrible than the men. Besides the usual deformities in extreme old +age, they acquired an additional ghastliness, in proportion to their +number of years, which is not to be described; and among half a dozen, +I soon distinguished which was the eldest, although there was not above +a century or two between them. + +The reader will easily believe, that from what I had heard and seen, my +keen appetite for perpetuity of life was much abated. I grew heartily +ashamed of the pleasing visions I had formed; and thought no tyrant +could invent a death into which I would not run with pleasure, from +such a life. The king heard of all that had passed between me and my +friends upon this occasion, and rallied me very pleasantly; wishing I +could send a couple of _struldbrugs_ to my own country, to arm our +people against the fear of death; but this, it seems, is forbidden by +the fundamental laws of the kingdom, or else I should have been well +content with the trouble and expense of transporting them. + +I could not but agree, that the laws of this kingdom relative to the +_struldbrugs_ were founded upon the strongest reasons, and such as any +other country would be under the necessity of enacting, in the like +circumstances. Otherwise, as avarice is the necessary consequence of +old age, those immortals would in time become proprietors of the whole +nation, and engross the civil power, which, for want of abilities to +manage, must end in the ruin of the public. + + +CHAPTER XI. + +The author leaves Luggnagg, and sails to Japan. From thence he returns +in a Dutch ship to Amsterdam, and from Amsterdam to England. + + +I thought this account of the _struldbrugs_ might be some entertainment +to the reader, because it seems to be a little out of the common way; +at least I do not remember to have met the like in any book of travels +that has come to my hands; and if I am deceived, my excuse must be, +that it is necessary for travellers who describe the same country, very +often to agree in dwelling on the same particulars, without deserving +the censure of having borrowed or transcribed from those who wrote +before them. + +There is indeed a perpetual commerce between this kingdom and the great +empire of Japan; and it is very probable, that the Japanese authors may +have given some account of the _struldbrugs_; but my stay in Japan was +so short, and I was so entirely a stranger to the language, that I was +not qualified to make any inquiries. But I hope the Dutch, upon this +notice, will be curious and able enough to supply my defects. + +His majesty having often pressed me to accept some employment in his +court, and finding me absolutely determined to return to my native +country, was pleased to give me his license to depart; and honoured me +with a letter of recommendation, under his own hand, to the Emperor of +Japan. He likewise presented me with four hundred and forty-four large +pieces of gold (this nation delighting in even numbers), and a red +diamond, which I sold in England for eleven hundred pounds. + +On the 6th day of May, 1709, I took a solemn leave of his majesty, and +all my friends. This prince was so gracious as to order a guard to +conduct me to Glanguenstald, which is a royal port to the south-west +part of the island. In six days I found a vessel ready to carry me to +Japan, and spent fifteen days in the voyage. We landed at a small +port-town called Xamoschi, situated on the south-east part of Japan; +the town lies on the western point, where there is a narrow strait +leading northward into a long arm of the sea, upon the north-west part +of which, Yedo, the metropolis, stands. At landing, I showed the +custom-house officers my letter from the king of Luggnagg to his +imperial majesty. They knew the seal perfectly well; it was as broad as +the palm of my hand. The impression was, _A king lifting up a lame +beggar from the earth_. The magistrates of the town, hearing of my +letter, received me as a public minister. They provided me with +carriages and servants, and bore my charges to Yedo; where I was +admitted to an audience, and delivered my letter, which was opened with +great ceremony, and explained to the Emperor by an interpreter, who +then gave me notice, by his majesty’s order, “that I should signify my +request, and, whatever it were, it should be granted, for the sake of +his royal brother of Luggnagg.” This interpreter was a person employed +to transact affairs with the Hollanders. He soon conjectured, by my +countenance, that I was a European, and therefore repeated his +majesty’s commands in Low Dutch, which he spoke perfectly well. I +answered, as I had before determined, “that I was a Dutch merchant, +shipwrecked in a very remote country, whence I had travelled by sea and +land to Luggnagg, and then took shipping for Japan; where I knew my +countrymen often traded, and with some of these I hoped to get an +opportunity of returning into Europe: I therefore most humbly entreated +his royal favour, to give order that I should be conducted in safety to +Nangasac.” To this I added another petition, “that for the sake of my +patron the king of Luggnagg, his majesty would condescend to excuse my +performing the ceremony imposed on my countrymen, of trampling upon the +crucifix, because I had been thrown into his kingdom by my misfortunes, +without any intention of trading.” When this latter petition was +interpreted to the Emperor, he seemed a little surprised; and said, “he +believed I was the first of my countrymen who ever made any scruple in +this point; and that he began to doubt, whether I was a real Hollander, +or not; but rather suspected I must be a Christian. However, for the +reasons I had offered, but chiefly to gratify the king of Luggnagg by +an uncommon mark of his favour, he would comply with the singularity of +my humour; but the affair must be managed with dexterity, and his +officers should be commanded to let me pass, as it were by +forgetfulness. For he assured me, that if the secret should be +discovered by my countrymen the Dutch, they would cut my throat in the +voyage.” I returned my thanks, by the interpreter, for so unusual a +favour; and some troops being at that time on their march to Nangasac, +the commanding officer had orders to convey me safe thither, with +particular instructions about the business of the crucifix. + +On the 9th day of June, 1709, I arrived at Nangasac, after a very long +and troublesome journey. I soon fell into the company of some Dutch +sailors belonging to the Amboyna, of Amsterdam, a stout ship of 450 +tons. I had lived long in Holland, pursuing my studies at Leyden, and I +spoke Dutch well. The seamen soon knew from whence I came last: they +were curious to inquire into my voyages and course of life. I made up a +story as short and probable as I could, but concealed the greatest +part. I knew many persons in Holland. I was able to invent names for my +parents, whom I pretended to be obscure people in the province of +Gelderland. I would have given the captain (one Theodorus Vangrult) +what he pleased to ask for my voyage to Holland; but understanding I +was a surgeon, he was contented to take half the usual rate, on +condition that I would serve him in the way of my calling. Before we +took shipping, I was often asked by some of the crew, whether I had +performed the ceremony above mentioned. I evaded the question by +general answers; “that I had satisfied the Emperor and court in all +particulars.” However, a malicious rogue of a skipper went to an +officer, and pointing to me, told him, “I had not yet trampled on the +crucifix;” but the other, who had received instructions to let me pass, +gave the rascal twenty strokes on the shoulders with a bamboo; after +which I was no more troubled with such questions. + +Nothing happened worth mentioning in this voyage. We sailed with a fair +wind to the Cape of Good Hope, where we staid only to take in fresh +water. On the 10th of April, 1710, we arrived safe at Amsterdam, having +lost only three men by sickness in the voyage, and a fourth, who fell +from the foremast into the sea, not far from the coast of Guinea. From +Amsterdam I soon after set sail for England, in a small vessel +belonging to that city. + +On the 16th of April, 1710, we put in at the Downs. I landed next +morning, and saw once more my native country, after an absence of five +years and six months complete. I went straight to Redriff, where I +arrived the same day at two in the afternoon, and found my wife and +family in good health. + + +PART IV. A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHNMS. + + +CHAPTER I. + +The author sets out as captain of a ship. His men conspire against him, +confine him a long time to his cabin, and set him on shore in an +unknown land. He travels up into the country. The Yahoos, a strange +sort of animal, described. The author meets two Houyhnhnms. + + +I continued at home with my wife and children about five months in a +very happy condition, if I could have learned the lesson of knowing +when I was well. I left my poor wife big with child, and accepted an +advantageous offer made me to be captain of the Adventurer, a stout +merchantman of 350 tons: for I understood navigation well, and being +grown weary of a surgeon’s employment at sea, which, however, I could +exercise upon occasion, I took a skilful young man of that calling, one +Robert Purefoy, into my ship. We set sail from Portsmouth upon the 7th +day of August, 1710; on the 14th we met with Captain Pocock, of +Bristol, at Teneriffe, who was going to the bay of Campechy to cut +logwood. On the 16th, he was parted from us by a storm; I heard since +my return, that his ship foundered, and none escaped but one cabin boy. +He was an honest man, and a good sailor, but a little too positive in +his own opinions, which was the cause of his destruction, as it has +been with several others; for if he had followed my advice, he might +have been safe at home with his family at this time, as well as myself. + +I had several men who died in my ship of calentures, so that I was +forced to get recruits out of Barbadoes and the Leeward Islands, where +I touched, by the direction of the merchants who employed me; which I +had soon too much cause to repent: for I found afterwards, that most of +them had been buccaneers. I had fifty hands on board; and my orders +were, that I should trade with the Indians in the South-Sea, and make +what discoveries I could. These rogues, whom I had picked up, debauched +my other men, and they all formed a conspiracy to seize the ship, and +secure me; which they did one morning, rushing into my cabin, and +binding me hand and foot, threatening to throw me overboard, if I +offered to stir. I told them, “I was their prisoner, and would submit.” +This they made me swear to do, and then they unbound me, only fastening +one of my legs with a chain, near my bed, and placed a sentry at my +door with his piece charged, who was commanded to shoot me dead if I +attempted my liberty. They sent me down victuals and drink, and took +the government of the ship to themselves. Their design was to turn +pirates, and plunder the Spaniards, which they could not do till they +got more men. But first they resolved to sell the goods in the ship, +and then go to Madagascar for recruits, several among them having died +since my confinement. They sailed many weeks, and traded with the +Indians; but I knew not what course they took, being kept a close +prisoner in my cabin, and expecting nothing less than to be murdered, +as they often threatened me. + +Upon the 9th day of May, 1711, one James Welch came down to my cabin, +and said, “he had orders from the captain to set me ashore.” I +expostulated with him, but in vain; neither would he so much as tell me +who their new captain was. They forced me into the long-boat, letting +me put on my best suit of clothes, which were as good as new, and take +a small bundle of linen, but no arms, except my hanger; and they were +so civil as not to search my pockets, into which I conveyed what money +I had, with some other little necessaries. They rowed about a league, +and then set me down on a strand. I desired them to tell me what +country it was. They all swore, “they knew no more than myself;” but +said, “that the captain” (as they called him) “was resolved, after they +had sold the lading, to get rid of me in the first place where they +could discover land.” They pushed off immediately, advising me to make +haste for fear of being overtaken by the tide, and so bade me farewell. + +In this desolate condition I advanced forward, and soon got upon firm +ground, where I sat down on a bank to rest myself, and consider what I +had best do. When I was a little refreshed, I went up into the country, +resolving to deliver myself to the first savages I should meet, and +purchase my life from them by some bracelets, glass rings, and other +toys, which sailors usually provide themselves with in those voyages, +and whereof I had some about me. The land was divided by long rows of +trees, not regularly planted, but naturally growing; there was great +plenty of grass, and several fields of oats. I walked very +circumspectly, for fear of being surprised, or suddenly shot with an +arrow from behind, or on either side. I fell into a beaten road, where +I saw many tracts of human feet, and some of cows, but most of horses. +At last I beheld several animals in a field, and one or two of the same +kind sitting in trees. Their shape was very singular and deformed, +which a little discomposed me, so that I lay down behind a thicket to +observe them better. Some of them coming forward near the place where I +lay, gave me an opportunity of distinctly marking their form. Their +heads and breasts were covered with a thick hair, some frizzled, and +others lank; they had beards like goats, and a long ridge of hair down +their backs, and the fore parts of their legs and feet; but the rest of +their bodies was bare, so that I might see their skins, which were of a +brown buff colour. They had no tails, nor any hair at all on their +buttocks, except about the anus, which, I presume, nature had placed +there to defend them as they sat on the ground, for this posture they +used, as well as lying down, and often stood on their hind feet. They +climbed high trees as nimbly as a squirrel, for they had strong +extended claws before and behind, terminating in sharp points, and +hooked. They would often spring, and bound, and leap, with prodigious +agility. The females were not so large as the males; they had long lank +hair on their heads, but none on their faces, nor any thing more than a +sort of down on the rest of their bodies, except about the anus and +pudenda. The dugs hung between their forefeet, and often reached almost +to the ground as they walked. The hair of both sexes was of several +colours, brown, red, black, and yellow. Upon the whole, I never beheld, +in all my travels, so disagreeable an animal, or one against which I +naturally conceived so strong an antipathy. So that, thinking I had +seen enough, full of contempt and aversion, I got up, and pursued the +beaten road, hoping it might direct me to the cabin of some Indian. I +had not got far, when I met one of these creatures full in my way, and +coming up directly to me. The ugly monster, when he saw me, distorted +several ways, every feature of his visage, and stared, as at an object +he had never seen before; then approaching nearer, lifted up his +fore-paw, whether out of curiosity or mischief I could not tell; but I +drew my hanger, and gave him a good blow with the flat side of it, for +I durst not strike with the edge, fearing the inhabitants might be +provoked against me, if they should come to know that I had killed or +maimed any of their cattle. When the beast felt the smart, he drew +back, and roared so loud, that a herd of at least forty came flocking +about me from the next field, howling and making odious faces; but I +ran to the body of a tree, and leaning my back against it, kept them +off by waving my hanger. Several of this cursed brood, getting hold of +the branches behind, leaped up into the tree, whence they began to +discharge their excrements on my head; however, I escaped pretty well +by sticking close to the stem of the tree, but was almost stifled with +the filth, which fell about me on every side. + +In the midst of this distress, I observed them all to run away on a +sudden as fast as they could; at which I ventured to leave the tree and +pursue the road, wondering what it was that could put them into this +fright. But looking on my left hand, I saw a horse walking softly in +the field; which my persecutors having sooner discovered, was the cause +of their flight. The horse started a little, when he came near me, but +soon recovering himself, looked full in my face with manifest tokens of +wonder; he viewed my hands and feet, walking round me several times. I +would have pursued my journey, but he placed himself directly in the +way, yet looking with a very mild aspect, never offering the least +violence. We stood gazing at each other for some time; at last I took +the boldness to reach my hand towards his neck with a design to stroke +it, using the common style and whistle of jockeys, when they are going +to handle a strange horse. But this animal seemed to receive my +civilities with disdain, shook his head, and bent his brows, softly +raising up his right fore-foot to remove my hand. Then he neighed three +or four times, but in so different a cadence, that I almost began to +think he was speaking to himself, in some language of his own. + +While he and I were thus employed, another horse came up; who applying +himself to the first in a very formal manner, they gently struck each +other’s right hoof before, neighing several times by turns, and varying +the sound, which seemed to be almost articulate. They went some paces +off, as if it were to confer together, walking side by side, backward +and forward, like persons deliberating upon some affair of weight, but +often turning their eyes towards me, as it were to watch that I might +not escape. I was amazed to see such actions and behaviour in brute +beasts; and concluded with myself, that if the inhabitants of this +country were endued with a proportionable degree of reason, they must +needs be the wisest people upon earth. This thought gave me so much +comfort, that I resolved to go forward, until I could discover some +house or village, or meet with any of the natives, leaving the two +horses to discourse together as they pleased. But the first, who was a +dapple gray, observing me to steal off, neighed after me in so +expressive a tone, that I fancied myself to understand what he meant; +whereupon I turned back, and came near to him to expect his farther +commands: but concealing my fear as much as I could, for I began to be +in some pain how this adventure might terminate; and the reader will +easily believe I did not much like my present situation. + +The two horses came up close to me, looking with great earnestness upon +my face and hands. The gray steed rubbed my hat all round with his +right fore-hoof, and discomposed it so much that I was forced to adjust +it better by taking it off and settling it again; whereat, both he and +his companion (who was a brown bay) appeared to be much surprised: the +latter felt the lappet of my coat, and finding it to hang loose about +me, they both looked with new signs of wonder. He stroked my right +hand, seeming to admire the softness and colour; but he squeezed it so +hard between his hoof and his pastern, that I was forced to roar; after +which they both touched me with all possible tenderness. They were +under great perplexity about my shoes and stockings, which they felt +very often, neighing to each other, and using various gestures, not +unlike those of a philosopher, when he would attempt to solve some new +and difficult phenomenon. + +Upon the whole, the behaviour of these animals was so orderly and +rational, so acute and judicious, that I at last concluded they must +needs be magicians, who had thus metamorphosed themselves upon some +design, and seeing a stranger in the way, resolved to divert themselves +with him; or, perhaps, were really amazed at the sight of a man so very +different in habit, feature, and complexion, from those who might +probably live in so remote a climate. Upon the strength of this +reasoning, I ventured to address them in the following manner: +“Gentlemen, if you be conjurers, as I have good cause to believe, you +can understand my language; therefore I make bold to let your worships +know that I am a poor distressed Englishman, driven by his misfortunes +upon your coast; and I entreat one of you to let me ride upon his back, +as if he were a real horse, to some house or village where I can be +relieved. In return of which favour, I will make you a present of this +knife and bracelet,” taking them out of my pocket. The two creatures +stood silent while I spoke, seeming to listen with great attention, and +when I had ended, they neighed frequently towards each other, as if +they were engaged in serious conversation. I plainly observed that +their language expressed the passions very well, and the words might, +with little pains, be resolved into an alphabet more easily than the +Chinese. + +I could frequently distinguish the word _Yahoo_, which was repeated by +each of them several times: and although it was impossible for me to +conjecture what it meant, yet while the two horses were busy in +conversation, I endeavoured to practise this word upon my tongue; and +as soon as they were silent, I boldly pronounced _Yahoo_ in a loud +voice, imitating at the same time, as near as I could, the neighing of +a horse; at which they were both visibly surprised; and the gray +repeated the same word twice, as if he meant to teach me the right +accent; wherein I spoke after him as well as I could, and found myself +perceivably to improve every time, though very far from any degree of +perfection. Then the bay tried me with a second word, much harder to be +pronounced; but reducing it to the English orthography, may be spelt +thus, _Houyhnhnm_. I did not succeed in this so well as in the former; +but after two or three farther trials, I had better fortune; and they +both appeared amazed at my capacity. + +After some further discourse, which I then conjectured might relate to +me, the two friends took their leaves, with the same compliment of +striking each other’s hoof; and the gray made me signs that I should +walk before him; wherein I thought it prudent to comply, till I could +find a better director. When I offered to slacken my pace, he would cry +_hhuun hhuun_: I guessed his meaning, and gave him to understand, as +well as I could, “that I was weary, and not able to walk faster;” upon +which he would stand a while to let me rest. + + +CHAPTER II. + +The author conducted by a Houyhnhnm to his house. The house described. +The author’s reception. The food of the Houyhnhnms. The author in +distress for want of meat, is at last relieved. His manner of feeding +in this country. + + +Having travelled about three miles, we came to a long kind of building, +made of timber stuck in the ground, and wattled across; the roof was +low and covered with straw. I now began to be a little comforted; and +took out some toys, which travellers usually carry for presents to the +savage Indians of America, and other parts, in hopes the people of the +house would be thereby encouraged to receive me kindly. The horse made +me a sign to go in first; it was a large room with a smooth clay floor, +and a rack and manger, extending the whole length on one side. There +were three nags and two mares, not eating, but some of them sitting +down upon their hams, which I very much wondered at; but wondered more +to see the rest employed in domestic business; these seemed but +ordinary cattle. However, this confirmed my first opinion, that a +people who could so far civilize brute animals, must needs excel in +wisdom all the nations of the world. The gray came in just after, and +thereby prevented any ill treatment which the others might have given +me. He neighed to them several times in a style of authority, and +received answers. + +Beyond this room there were three others, reaching the length of the +house, to which you passed through three doors, opposite to each other, +in the manner of a vista. We went through the second room towards the +third. Here the gray walked in first, beckoning me to attend: I waited +in the second room, and got ready my presents for the master and +mistress of the house; they were two knives, three bracelets of false +pearls, a small looking-glass, and a bead necklace. The horse neighed +three or four times, and I waited to hear some answers in a human +voice, but I heard no other returns than in the same dialect, only one +or two a little shriller than his. I began to think that this house +must belong to some person of great note among them, because there +appeared so much ceremony before I could gain admittance. But, that a +man of quality should be served all by horses, was beyond my +comprehension. I feared my brain was disturbed by my sufferings and +misfortunes. I roused myself, and looked about me in the room where I +was left alone: this was furnished like the first, only after a more +elegant manner. I rubbed my eyes often, but the same objects still +occurred. I pinched my arms and sides to awake myself, hoping I might +be in a dream. I then absolutely concluded, that all these appearances +could be nothing else but necromancy and magic. But I had no time to +pursue these reflections; for the gray horse came to the door, and made +me a sign to follow him into the third room where I saw a very comely +mare, together with a colt and foal, sitting on their haunches upon +mats of straw, not unartfully made, and perfectly neat and clean. + +The mare soon after my entrance rose from her mat, and coming up close, +after having nicely observed my hands and face, gave me a most +contemptuous look; and turning to the horse, I heard the word _Yahoo_ +often repeated betwixt them; the meaning of which word I could not then +comprehend, although it was the first I had learned to pronounce. But I +was soon better informed, to my everlasting mortification; for the +horse, beckoning to me with his head, and repeating the _hhuun_, +_hhuun_, as he did upon the road, which I understood was to attend him, +led me out into a kind of court, where was another building, at some +distance from the house. Here we entered, and I saw three of those +detestable creatures, which I first met after my landing, feeding upon +roots, and the flesh of some animals, which I afterwards found to be +that of asses and dogs, and now and then a cow, dead by accident or +disease. They were all tied by the neck with strong withes, fastened to +a beam; they held their food between the claws of their forefeet, and +tore it with their teeth. + +The master horse ordered a sorrel nag, one of his servants, to untie +the largest of these animals, and take him into the yard. The beast and +I were brought close together, and by our countenances diligently +compared both by master and servant, who thereupon repeated several +times the word _Yahoo_. My horror and astonishment are not to be +described, when I observed in this abominable animal, a perfect human +figure: the face of it indeed was flat and broad, the nose depressed, +the lips large, and the mouth wide; but these differences are common to +all savage nations, where the lineaments of the countenance are +distorted, by the natives suffering their infants to lie grovelling on +the earth, or by carrying them on their backs, nuzzling with their face +against the mothers’ shoulders. The forefeet of the _Yahoo_ differed +from my hands in nothing else but the length of the nails, the +coarseness and brownness of the palms, and the hairiness on the backs. +There was the same resemblance between our feet, with the same +differences; which I knew very well, though the horses did not, because +of my shoes and stockings; the same in every part of our bodies except +as to hairiness and colour, which I have already described. + +The great difficulty that seemed to stick with the two horses, was to +see the rest of my body so very different from that of a _Yahoo_, for +which I was obliged to my clothes, whereof they had no conception. The +sorrel nag offered me a root, which he held (after their manner, as we +shall describe in its proper place) between his hoof and pastern; I +took it in my hand, and, having smelt it, returned it to him again as +civilly as I could. He brought out of the _Yahoos_’ kennel a piece of +ass’s flesh; but it smelt so offensively that I turned from it with +loathing: he then threw it to the _Yahoo_, by whom it was greedily +devoured. He afterwards showed me a wisp of hay, and a fetlock full of +oats; but I shook my head, to signify that neither of these were food +for me. And indeed I now apprehended that I must absolutely starve, if +I did not get to some of my own species; for as to those filthy +_Yahoos_, although there were few greater lovers of mankind at that +time than myself, yet I confess I never saw any sensitive being so +detestable on all accounts; and the more I came near them the more +hateful they grew, while I stayed in that country. This the master +horse observed by my behaviour, and therefore sent the _Yahoo_ back to +his kennel. He then put his fore-hoof to his mouth, at which I was much +surprised, although he did it with ease, and with a motion that +appeared perfectly natural, and made other signs, to know what I would +eat; but I could not return him such an answer as he was able to +apprehend; and if he had understood me, I did not see how it was +possible to contrive any way for finding myself nourishment. While we +were thus engaged, I observed a cow passing by, whereupon I pointed to +her, and expressed a desire to go and milk her. This had its effect; +for he led me back into the house, and ordered a mare-servant to open a +room, where a good store of milk lay in earthen and wooden vessels, +after a very orderly and cleanly manner. She gave me a large bowlful, +of which I drank very heartily, and found myself well refreshed. + +About noon, I saw coming towards the house a kind of vehicle drawn like +a sledge by four _Yahoos_. There was in it an old steed, who seemed to +be of quality; he alighted with his hind-feet forward, having by +accident got a hurt in his left fore-foot. He came to dine with our +horse, who received him with great civility. They dined in the best +room, and had oats boiled in milk for the second course, which the old +horse ate warm, but the rest cold. Their mangers were placed circular +in the middle of the room, and divided into several partitions, round +which they sat on their haunches, upon bosses of straw. In the middle +was a large rack, with angles answering to every partition of the +manger; so that each horse and mare ate their own hay, and their own +mash of oats and milk, with much decency and regularity. The behaviour +of the young colt and foal appeared very modest, and that of the master +and mistress extremely cheerful and complaisant to their guest. The +gray ordered me to stand by him; and much discourse passed between him +and his friend concerning me, as I found by the stranger’s often +looking on me, and the frequent repetition of the word _Yahoo_. + +I happened to wear my gloves, which the master gray observing, seemed +perplexed, discovering signs of wonder what I had done to my forefeet. +He put his hoof three or four times to them, as if he would signify, +that I should reduce them to their former shape, which I presently did, +pulling off both my gloves, and putting them into my pocket. This +occasioned farther talk; and I saw the company was pleased with my +behaviour, whereof I soon found the good effects. I was ordered to +speak the few words I understood; and while they were at dinner, the +master taught me the names for oats, milk, fire, water, and some +others, which I could readily pronounce after him, having from my youth +a great facility in learning languages. + +When dinner was done, the master horse took me aside, and by signs and +words made me understand the concern he was in that I had nothing to +eat. Oats in their tongue are called _hlunnh_. This word I pronounced +two or three times; for although I had refused them at first, yet, upon +second thoughts, I considered that I could contrive to make of them a +kind of bread, which might be sufficient, with milk, to keep me alive, +till I could make my escape to some other country, and to creatures of +my own species. The horse immediately ordered a white mare servant of +his family to bring me a good quantity of oats in a sort of wooden +tray. These I heated before the fire, as well as I could, and rubbed +them till the husks came off, which I made a shift to winnow from the +grain. I ground and beat them between two stones; then took water, and +made them into a paste or cake, which I toasted at the fire and eat +warm with milk. It was at first a very insipid diet, though common +enough in many parts of Europe, but grew tolerable by time; and having +been often reduced to hard fare in my life, this was not the first +experiment I had made how easily nature is satisfied. And I cannot but +observe, that I never had one hour’s sickness while I stayed in this +island. It is true, I sometimes made a shift to catch a rabbit, or +bird, by springs made of _Yahoo’s_ hairs; and I often gathered +wholesome herbs, which I boiled, and ate as salads with my bread; and +now and then, for a rarity, I made a little butter, and drank the whey. +I was at first at a great loss for salt, but custom soon reconciled me +to the want of it; and I am confident that the frequent use of salt +among us is an effect of luxury, and was first introduced only as a +provocative to drink, except where it is necessary for preserving flesh +in long voyages, or in places remote from great markets; for we observe +no animal to be fond of it but man, and as to myself, when I left this +country, it was a great while before I could endure the taste of it in +anything that I ate. + +This is enough to say upon the subject of my diet, wherewith other +travellers fill their books, as if the readers were personally +concerned whether we fare well or ill. However, it was necessary to +mention this matter, lest the world should think it impossible that I +could find sustenance for three years in such a country, and among such +inhabitants. + +When it grew towards evening, the master horse ordered a place for me +to lodge in; it was but six yards from the house and separated from the +stable of the _Yahoos_. Here I got some straw, and covering myself with +my own clothes, slept very sound. But I was in a short time better +accommodated, as the reader shall know hereafter, when I come to treat +more particularly about my way of living. + + +CHAPTER III. + +The author studies to learn the language. The Houyhnhnm, his master, +assists in teaching him. The language described. Several Houyhnhnms of +quality come out of curiosity to see the author. He gives his master a +short account of his voyage. + + +My principal endeavour was to learn the language, which my master (for +so I shall henceforth call him), and his children, and every servant of +his house, were desirous to teach me; for they looked upon it as a +prodigy, that a brute animal should discover such marks of a rational +creature. I pointed to every thing, and inquired the name of it, which +I wrote down in my journal-book when I was alone, and corrected my bad +accent by desiring those of the family to pronounce it often. In this +employment, a sorrel nag, one of the under-servants, was very ready to +assist me. + +In speaking, they pronounced through the nose and throat, and their +language approaches nearest to the High-Dutch, or German, of any I know +in Europe; but is much more graceful and significant. The emperor +Charles V. made almost the same observation, when he said “that if he +were to speak to his horse, it should be in High-Dutch.” + +The curiosity and impatience of my master were so great, that he spent +many hours of his leisure to instruct me. He was convinced (as he +afterwards told me) that I must be a _Yahoo_; but my teachableness, +civility, and cleanliness, astonished him; which were qualities +altogether opposite to those animals. He was most perplexed about my +clothes, reasoning sometimes with himself, whether they were a part of +my body: for I never pulled them off till the family were asleep, and +got them on before they waked in the morning. My master was eager to +learn “whence I came; how I acquired those appearances of reason, which +I discovered in all my actions; and to know my story from my own mouth, +which he hoped he should soon do by the great proficiency I made in +learning and pronouncing their words and sentences.” To help my memory, +I formed all I learned into the English alphabet, and writ the words +down, with the translations. This last, after some time, I ventured to +do in my master’s presence. It cost me much trouble to explain to him +what I was doing; for the inhabitants have not the least idea of books +or literature. + +In about ten weeks time, I was able to understand most of his +questions; and in three months, could give him some tolerable answers. +He was extremely curious to know “from what part of the country I came, +and how I was taught to imitate a rational creature; because the +_Yahoos_ (whom he saw I exactly resembled in my head, hands, and face, +that were only visible), with some appearance of cunning, and the +strongest disposition to mischief, were observed to be the most +unteachable of all brutes.” I answered, “that I came over the sea, from +a far place, with many others of my own kind, in a great hollow vessel +made of the bodies of trees: that my companions forced me to land on +this coast, and then left me to shift for myself.” It was with some +difficulty, and by the help of many signs, that I brought him to +understand me. He replied, “that I must needs be mistaken, or that I +said the thing which was not;” for they have no word in their language +to express lying or falsehood. “He knew it was impossible that there +could be a country beyond the sea, or that a parcel of brutes could +move a wooden vessel whither they pleased upon water. He was sure no +_Houyhnhnm_ alive could make such a vessel, nor would trust _Yahoos_ to +manage it.” + +The word _Houyhnhnm_, in their tongue, signifies a _horse_, and, in its +etymology, the _perfection of nature_. I told my master, “that I was at +a loss for expression, but would improve as fast as I could; and hoped, +in a short time, I should be able to tell him wonders.” He was pleased +to direct his own mare, his colt, and foal, and the servants of the +family, to take all opportunities of instructing me; and every day, for +two or three hours, he was at the same pains himself. Several horses +and mares of quality in the neighbourhood came often to our house, upon +the report spread of “a wonderful _Yahoo_, that could speak like a +_Houyhnhnm_, and seemed, in his words and actions, to discover some +glimmerings of reason.” These delighted to converse with me: they put +many questions, and received such answers as I was able to return. By +all these advantages I made so great a progress, that, in five months +from my arrival I understood whatever was spoken, and could express +myself tolerably well. + +The _Houyhnhnms_, who came to visit my master out of a design of seeing +and talking with me, could hardly believe me to be a right _Yahoo_, +because my body had a different covering from others of my kind. They +were astonished to observe me without the usual hair or skin, except on +my head, face, and hands; but I discovered that secret to my master +upon an accident which happened about a fortnight before. + +I have already told the reader, that every night, when the family were +gone to bed, it was my custom to strip, and cover myself with my +clothes. It happened, one morning early, that my master sent for me by +the sorrel nag, who was his valet. When he came I was fast asleep, my +clothes fallen off on one side, and my shirt above my waist. I awaked +at the noise he made, and observed him to deliver his message in some +disorder; after which he went to my master, and in a great fright gave +him a very confused account of what he had seen. This I presently +discovered, for, going as soon as I was dressed to pay my attendance +upon his honour, he asked me “the meaning of what his servant had +reported, that I was not the same thing when I slept, as I appeared to +be at other times; that his valet assured him, some part of me was +white, some yellow, at least not so white, and some brown.” + +I had hitherto concealed the secret of my dress, in order to +distinguish myself, as much as possible, from that cursed race of +_Yahoos_; but now I found it in vain to do so any longer. Besides, I +considered that my clothes and shoes would soon wear out, which already +were in a declining condition, and must be supplied by some contrivance +from the hides of _Yahoos_, or other brutes; whereby the whole secret +would be known. I therefore told my master, “that in the country whence +I came, those of my kind always covered their bodies with the hairs of +certain animals prepared by art, as well for decency as to avoid the +inclemencies of air, both hot and cold; of which, as to my own person, +I would give him immediate conviction, if he pleased to command me: +only desiring his excuse, if I did not expose those parts that nature +taught us to conceal.” He said, “my discourse was all very strange, but +especially the last part; for he could not understand, why nature +should teach us to conceal what nature had given; that neither himself +nor family were ashamed of any parts of their bodies; but, however, I +might do as I pleased.” Whereupon I first unbuttoned my coat, and +pulled it off. I did the same with my waistcoat. I drew off my shoes, +stockings, and breeches. I let my shirt down to my waist, and drew up +the bottom; fastening it like a girdle about my middle, to hide my +nakedness. + +My master observed the whole performance with great signs of curiosity +and admiration. He took up all my clothes in his pastern, one piece +after another, and examined them diligently; he then stroked my body +very gently, and looked round me several times; after which, he said, +it was plain I must be a perfect _Yahoo_; but that I differed very much +from the rest of my species in the softness, whiteness, and smoothness +of my skin; my want of hair in several parts of my body; the shape and +shortness of my claws behind and before; and my affectation of walking +continually on my two hinder feet. He desired to see no more; and gave +me leave to put on my clothes again, for I was shuddering with cold. + +I expressed my uneasiness at his giving me so often the appellation of +_Yahoo_, an odious animal, for which I had so utter a hatred and +contempt: I begged he would forbear applying that word to me, and make +the same order in his family and among his friends whom he suffered to +see me. I requested likewise, “that the secret of my having a false +covering to my body, might be known to none but himself, at least as +long as my present clothing should last; for as to what the sorrel nag, +his valet, had observed, his honour might command him to conceal it.” + +All this my master very graciously consented to; and thus the secret +was kept till my clothes began to wear out, which I was forced to +supply by several contrivances that shall hereafter be mentioned. In +the meantime, he desired “I would go on with my utmost diligence to +learn their language, because he was more astonished at my capacity for +speech and reason, than at the figure of my body, whether it were +covered or not;” adding, “that he waited with some impatience to hear +the wonders which I promised to tell him.” + +From thenceforward he doubled the pains he had been at to instruct me: +he brought me into all company, and made them treat me with civility; +“because,” as he told them, privately, “this would put me into good +humour, and make me more diverting.” + +Every day, when I waited on him, beside the trouble he was at in +teaching, he would ask me several questions concerning myself, which I +answered as well as I could, and by these means he had already received +some general ideas, though very imperfect. It would be tedious to +relate the several steps by which I advanced to a more regular +conversation; but the first account I gave of myself in any order and +length was to this purpose: + +“That I came from a very far country, as I already had attempted to +tell him, with about fifty more of my own species; that we travelled +upon the seas in a great hollow vessel made of wood, and larger than +his honour’s house. I described the ship to him in the best terms I +could, and explained, by the help of my handkerchief displayed, how it +was driven forward by the wind. That upon a quarrel among us, I was set +on shore on this coast, where I walked forward, without knowing +whither, till he delivered me from the persecution of those execrable +_Yahoos_.” He asked me, “who made the ship, and how it was possible +that the _Houyhnhnms_ of my country would leave it to the management of +brutes?” My answer was, “that I durst proceed no further in my +relation, unless he would give me his word and honour that he would not +be offended, and then I would tell him the wonders I had so often +promised.” He agreed; and I went on by assuring him, that the ship was +made by creatures like myself; who, in all the countries I had +travelled, as well as in my own, were the only governing rational +animals; and that upon my arrival hither, I was as much astonished to +see the _Houyhnhnms_ act like rational beings, as he, or his friends, +could be, in finding some marks of reason in a creature he was pleased +to call a _Yahoo_; to which I owned my resemblance in every part, but +could not account for their degenerate and brutal nature. I said +farther, “that if good fortune ever restored me to my native country, +to relate my travels hither, as I resolved to do, everybody would +believe, that I said the thing that was not, that I invented the story +out of my own head; and (with all possible respect to himself, his +family, and friends, and under his promise of not being offended) our +countrymen would hardly think it probable that a _Houyhnhnm_ should be +the presiding creature of a nation, and a _Yahoo_ the brute.” + + +CHAPTER IV. + +The Houyhnhnms’ notion of truth and falsehood. The author’s discourse +disapproved by his master. The author gives a more particular account +of himself, and the accidents of his voyage. + + +My master heard me with great appearances of uneasiness in his +countenance; because _doubting_, or not believing, are so little known +in this country, that the inhabitants cannot tell how to behave +themselves under such circumstances. And I remember, in frequent +discourses with my master concerning the nature of manhood in other +parts of the world, having occasion to talk of _lying_ and _false +representation_, it was with much difficulty that he comprehended what +I meant, although he had otherwise a most acute judgment. For he argued +thus: “that the use of speech was to make us understand one another, +and to receive information of facts; now, if any one _said the thing +which was not_, these ends were defeated, because I cannot properly be +said to understand him; and I am so far from receiving information, +that he leaves me worse than in ignorance; for I am led to believe a +thing black, when it is white, and short, when it is long.” And these +were all the notions he had concerning that faculty of _lying_, so +perfectly well understood, and so universally practised, among human +creatures. + +To return from this digression. When I asserted that the _Yahoos_ were +the only governing animals in my country, which my master said was +altogether past his conception, he desired to know, “whether we had +_Houyhnhnms_ among us, and what was their employment?” I told him, “we +had great numbers; that in summer they grazed in the fields, and in +winter were kept in houses with hay and oats, where _Yahoo_ servants +were employed to rub their skins smooth, comb their manes, pick their +feet, serve them with food, and make their beds.” “I understand you +well,” said my master: “it is now very plain, from all you have spoken, +that whatever share of reason the _Yahoos_ pretend to, the _Houyhnhnms_ +are your masters; I heartily wish our _Yahoos_ would be so tractable.” +I begged “his honour would please to excuse me from proceeding any +further, because I was very certain that the account he expected from +me would be highly displeasing.” But he insisted in commanding me to +let him know the best and the worst. I told him “he should be obeyed.” +I owned “that the _Houyhnhnms_ among us, whom we called horses, were +the most generous and comely animals we had; that they excelled in +strength and swiftness; and when they belonged to persons of quality, +were employed in travelling, racing, or drawing chariots; they were +treated with much kindness and care, till they fell into diseases, or +became foundered in the feet; but then they were sold, and used to all +kind of drudgery till they died; after which their skins were stripped, +and sold for what they were worth, and their bodies left to be devoured +by dogs and birds of prey. But the common race of horses had not so +good fortune, being kept by farmers and carriers, and other mean +people, who put them to greater labour, and fed them worse.” I +described, as well as I could, our way of riding; the shape and use of +a bridle, a saddle, a spur, and a whip; of harness and wheels. I added, +“that we fastened plates of a certain hard substance, called iron, at +the bottom of their feet, to preserve their hoofs from being broken by +the stony ways, on which we often travelled.” + +My master, after some expressions of great indignation, wondered “how +we dared to venture upon a _Houyhnhnm’s_ back; for he was sure, that +the weakest servant in his house would be able to shake off the +strongest _Yahoo_; or by lying down and rolling on his back, squeeze +the brute to death.” I answered “that our horses were trained up, from +three or four years old, to the several uses we intended them for; that +if any of them proved intolerably vicious, they were employed for +carriages; that they were severely beaten, while they were young, for +any mischievous tricks; that the males, designed for the common use of +riding or draught, were generally castrated about two years after their +birth, to take down their spirits, and make them more tame and gentle; +that they were indeed sensible of rewards and punishments; but his +honour would please to consider, that they had not the least tincture +of reason, any more than the _Yahoos_ in this country.” + +It put me to the pains of many circumlocutions, to give my master a +right idea of what I spoke; for their language does not abound in +variety of words, because their wants and passions are fewer than among +us. But it is impossible to express his noble resentment at our savage +treatment of the _Houyhnhnm_ race; particularly after I had explained +the manner and use of castrating horses among us, to hinder them from +propagating their kind, and to render them more servile. He said, “if +it were possible there could be any country where _Yahoos_ alone were +endued with reason, they certainly must be the governing animal; +because reason in time will always prevail against brutal strength. +But, considering the frame of our bodies, and especially of mine, he +thought no creature of equal bulk was so ill-contrived for employing +that reason in the common offices of life;” whereupon he desired to +know “whether those among whom I lived resembled me, or the _Yahoos_ of +his country?” I assured him, “that I was as well shaped as most of my +age; but the younger, and the females, were much more soft and tender, +and the skins of the latter generally as white as milk.” He said, “I +differed indeed from other _Yahoos_, being much more cleanly, and not +altogether so deformed; but, in point of real advantage, he thought I +differed for the worse: that my nails were of no use either to my fore +or hinder feet; as to my forefeet, he could not properly call them by +that name, for he never observed me to walk upon them; that they were +too soft to bear the ground; that I generally went with them uncovered; +neither was the covering I sometimes wore on them of the same shape, or +so strong as that on my feet behind: that I could not walk with any +security, for if either of my hinder feet slipped, I must inevitably +fall.” He then began to find fault with other parts of my body: “the +flatness of my face, the prominence of my nose, my eyes placed directly +in front, so that I could not look on either side without turning my +head: that I was not able to feed myself, without lifting one of my +forefeet to my mouth: and therefore nature had placed those joints to +answer that necessity. He knew not what could be the use of those +several clefts and divisions in my feet behind; that these were too +soft to bear the hardness and sharpness of stones, without a covering +made from the skin of some other brute; that my whole body wanted a +fence against heat and cold, which I was forced to put on and off every +day, with tediousness and trouble: and lastly, that he observed every +animal in this country naturally to abhor the _Yahoos_, whom the weaker +avoided, and the stronger drove from them. So that, supposing us to +have the gift of reason, he could not see how it were possible to cure +that natural antipathy, which every creature discovered against us; nor +consequently how we could tame and render them serviceable. However, he +would,” as he said, “debate the matter no farther, because he was more +desirous to know my own story, the country where I was born, and the +several actions and events of my life, before I came hither.” + +I assured him, “how extremely desirous I was that he should be +satisfied on every point; but I doubted much, whether it would be +possible for me to explain myself on several subjects, whereof his +honour could have no conception; because I saw nothing in his country +to which I could resemble them; that, however, I would do my best, and +strive to express myself by similitudes, humbly desiring his assistance +when I wanted proper words;” which he was pleased to promise me. + +I said, “my birth was of honest parents, in an island called England; +which was remote from his country, as many days’ journey as the +strongest of his honour’s servants could travel in the annual course of +the sun; that I was bred a surgeon, whose trade it is to cure wounds +and hurts in the body, gotten by accident or violence; that my country +was governed by a female man, whom we called queen; that I left it to +get riches, whereby I might maintain myself and family, when I should +return; that, in my last voyage, I was commander of the ship, and had +about fifty _Yahoos_ under me, many of which died at sea, and I was +forced to supply them by others picked out from several nations; that +our ship was twice in danger of being sunk, the first time by a great +storm, and the second by striking against a rock.” Here my master +interposed, by asking me, “how I could persuade strangers, out of +different countries, to venture with me, after the losses I had +sustained, and the hazards I had run?” I said, “they were fellows of +desperate fortunes, forced to fly from the places of their birth on +account of their poverty or their crimes. Some were undone by lawsuits; +others spent all they had in drinking, whoring, and gaming; others fled +for treason; many for murder, theft, poisoning, robbery, perjury, +forgery, coining false money, for committing rapes, or sodomy; for +flying from their colours, or deserting to the enemy; and most of them +had broken prison; none of these durst return to their native +countries, for fear of being hanged, or of starving in a jail; and +therefore they were under the necessity of seeking a livelihood in +other places.” + +During this discourse, my master was pleased to interrupt me several +times. I had made use of many circumlocutions in describing to him the +nature of the several crimes for which most of our crew had been forced +to fly their country. This labour took up several days’ conversation, +before he was able to comprehend me. He was wholly at a loss to know +what could be the use or necessity of practising those vices. To clear +up which, I endeavoured to give some ideas of the desire of power and +riches; of the terrible effects of lust, intemperance, malice, and +envy. All this I was forced to define and describe by putting cases and +making suppositions. After which, like one whose imagination was struck +with something never seen or heard of before, he would lift up his eyes +with amazement and indignation. Power, government, war, law, +punishment, and a thousand other things, had no terms wherein that +language could express them, which made the difficulty almost +insuperable, to give my master any conception of what I meant. But +being of an excellent understanding, much improved by contemplation and +converse, he at last arrived at a competent knowledge of what human +nature, in our parts of the world, is capable to perform, and desired I +would give him some particular account of that land which we call +Europe, but especially of my own country. + + +CHAPTER V. + +The author at his master’s command, informs him of the state of +England. The causes of war among the princes of Europe. The author +begins to explain the English constitution. + + +The reader may please to observe, that the following extract of many +conversations I had with my master, contains a summary of the most +material points which were discoursed at several times for above two +years; his honour often desiring fuller satisfaction, as I farther +improved in the _Houyhnhnm_ tongue. I laid before him, as well as I +could, the whole state of Europe; I discoursed of trade and +manufactures, of arts and sciences; and the answers I gave to all the +questions he made, as they arose upon several subjects, were a fund of +conversation not to be exhausted. But I shall here only set down the +substance of what passed between us concerning my own country, reducing +it in order as well as I can, without any regard to time or other +circumstances, while I strictly adhere to truth. My only concern is, +that I shall hardly be able to do justice to my master’s arguments and +expressions, which must needs suffer by my want of capacity, as well as +by a translation into our barbarous English. + +In obedience, therefore, to his honour’s commands, I related to him the +Revolution under the Prince of Orange; the long war with France, +entered into by the said prince, and renewed by his successor, the +present queen, wherein the greatest powers of Christendom were engaged, +and which still continued: I computed, at his request, “that about a +million of _Yahoos_ might have been killed in the whole progress of it; +and perhaps a hundred or more cities taken, and five times as many +ships burnt or sunk.” + +He asked me, “what were the usual causes or motives that made one +country go to war with another?” I answered “they were innumerable; but +I should only mention a few of the chief. Sometimes the ambition of +princes, who never think they have land or people enough to govern; +sometimes the corruption of ministers, who engage their master in a +war, in order to stifle or divert the clamour of the subjects against +their evil administration. Difference in opinions has cost many +millions of lives: for instance, whether flesh be bread, or bread be +flesh; whether the juice of a certain berry be blood or wine; whether +whistling be a vice or a virtue; whether it be better to kiss a post, +or throw it into the fire; what is the best colour for a coat, whether +black, white, red, or gray; and whether it should be long or short, +narrow or wide, dirty or clean; with many more. Neither are any wars so +furious and bloody, or of so long a continuance, as those occasioned by +difference in opinion, especially if it be in things indifferent. + +“Sometimes the quarrel between two princes is to decide which of them +shall dispossess a third of his dominions, where neither of them +pretend to any right. Sometimes one prince quarrels with another for +fear the other should quarrel with him. Sometimes a war is entered +upon, because the enemy is too strong; and sometimes, because he is too +weak. Sometimes our neighbours want the things which we have, or have +the things which we want, and we both fight, till they take ours, or +give us theirs. It is a very justifiable cause of a war, to invade a +country after the people have been wasted by famine, destroyed by +pestilence, or embroiled by factions among themselves. It is +justifiable to enter into war against our nearest ally, when one of his +towns lies convenient for us, or a territory of land, that would render +our dominions round and complete. If a prince sends forces into a +nation, where the people are poor and ignorant, he may lawfully put +half of them to death, and make slaves of the rest, in order to +civilize and reduce them from their barbarous way of living. It is a +very kingly, honourable, and frequent practice, when one prince desires +the assistance of another, to secure him against an invasion, that the +assistant, when he has driven out the invader, should seize on the +dominions himself, and kill, imprison, or banish, the prince he came to +relieve. Alliance by blood, or marriage, is a frequent cause of war +between princes; and the nearer the kindred is, the greater their +disposition to quarrel; poor nations are hungry, and rich nations are +proud; and pride and hunger will ever be at variance. For these +reasons, the trade of a soldier is held the most honourable of all +others; because a soldier is a _Yahoo_ hired to kill, in cold blood, as +many of his own species, who have never offended him, as possibly he +can. + +“There is likewise a kind of beggarly princes in Europe, not able to +make war by themselves, who hire out their troops to richer nations, +for so much a day to each man; of which they keep three-fourths to +themselves, and it is the best part of their maintenance: such are +those in many northern parts of Europe.” + +“What you have told me,” said my master, “upon the subject of war, does +indeed discover most admirably the effects of that reason you pretend +to: however, it is happy that the shame is greater than the danger; and +that nature has left you utterly incapable of doing much mischief. For, +your mouths lying flat with your faces, you can hardly bite each other +to any purpose, unless by consent. Then as to the claws upon your feet +before and behind, they are so short and tender, that one of our +_Yahoos_ would drive a dozen of yours before him. And therefore, in +recounting the numbers of those who have been killed in battle, I +cannot but think you have said the thing which is not.” + +I could not forbear shaking my head, and smiling a little at his +ignorance. And being no stranger to the art of war, I gave him a +description of cannons, culverins, muskets, carabines, pistols, +bullets, powder, swords, bayonets, battles, sieges, retreats, attacks, +undermines, countermines, bombardments, sea fights, ships sunk with a +thousand men, twenty thousand killed on each side, dying groans, limbs +flying in the air, smoke, noise, confusion, trampling to death under +horses’ feet, flight, pursuit, victory; fields strewed with carcases, +left for food to dogs and wolves and birds of prey; plundering, +stripping, ravishing, burning, and destroying. And to set forth the +valour of my own dear countrymen, I assured him, “that I had seen them +blow up a hundred enemies at once in a siege, and as many in a ship, +and beheld the dead bodies drop down in pieces from the clouds, to the +great diversion of the spectators.” + +I was going on to more particulars, when my master commanded me +silence. He said, “whoever understood the nature of _Yahoos_, might +easily believe it possible for so vile an animal to be capable of every +action I had named, if their strength and cunning equalled their +malice. But as my discourse had increased his abhorrence of the whole +species, so he found it gave him a disturbance in his mind to which he +was wholly a stranger before. He thought his ears, being used to such +abominable words, might, by degrees, admit them with less detestation: +that although he hated the _Yahoos_ of this country, yet he no more +blamed them for their odious qualities, than he did a _gnnayh_ (a bird +of prey) for its cruelty, or a sharp stone for cutting his hoof. But +when a creature pretending to reason could be capable of such +enormities, he dreaded lest the corruption of that faculty might be +worse than brutality itself. He seemed therefore confident, that, +instead of reason we were only possessed of some quality fitted to +increase our natural vices; as the reflection from a troubled stream +returns the image of an ill-shapen body, not only larger but more +distorted.” + +He added, “that he had heard too much upon the subject of war, both in +this and some former discourses. There was another point, which a +little perplexed him at present. I had informed him, that some of our +crew left their country on account of being ruined by law; that I had +already explained the meaning of the word; but he was at a loss how it +should come to pass, that the law, which was intended for every man’s +preservation, should be any man’s ruin. Therefore he desired to be +further satisfied what I meant by law, and the dispensers thereof, +according to the present practice in my own country; because he thought +nature and reason were sufficient guides for a reasonable animal, as we +pretended to be, in showing us what we ought to do, and what to avoid.” + +I assured his honour, “that law was a science in which I had not much +conversed, further than by employing advocates, in vain, upon some +injustices that had been done me: however, I would give him all the +satisfaction I was able.” + +I said, “there was a society of men among us, bred up from their youth +in the art of proving, by words multiplied for the purpose, that white +is black, and black is white, according as they are paid. To this +society all the rest of the people are slaves. For example, if my +neighbour has a mind to my cow, he has a lawyer to prove that he ought +to have my cow from me. I must then hire another to defend my right, it +being against all rules of law that any man should be allowed to speak +for himself. Now, in this case, I, who am the right owner, lie under +two great disadvantages: first, my lawyer, being practised almost from +his cradle in defending falsehood, is quite out of his element when he +would be an advocate for justice, which is an unnatural office he +always attempts with great awkwardness, if not with ill-will. The +second disadvantage is, that my lawyer must proceed with great caution, +or else he will be reprimanded by the judges, and abhorred by his +brethren, as one that would lessen the practice of the law. And +therefore I have but two methods to preserve my cow. The first is, to +gain over my adversary’s lawyer with a double fee, who will then betray +his client by insinuating that he hath justice on his side. The second +way is for my lawyer to make my cause appear as unjust as he can, by +allowing the cow to belong to my adversary: and this, if it be +skilfully done, will certainly bespeak the favour of the bench. Now +your honour is to know, that these judges are persons appointed to +decide all controversies of property, as well as for the trial of +criminals, and picked out from the most dexterous lawyers, who are +grown old or lazy; and having been biassed all their lives against +truth and equity, lie under such a fatal necessity of favouring fraud, +perjury, and oppression, that I have known some of them refuse a large +bribe from the side where justice lay, rather than injure the faculty, +by doing any thing unbecoming their nature or their office. + +“It is a maxim among these lawyers that whatever has been done before, +may legally be done again: and therefore they take special care to +record all the decisions formerly made against common justice, and the +general reason of mankind. These, under the name of precedents, they +produce as authorities to justify the most iniquitous opinions; and the +judges never fail of directing accordingly. + +“In pleading, they studiously avoid entering into the merits of the +cause; but are loud, violent, and tedious, in dwelling upon all +circumstances which are not to the purpose. For instance, in the case +already mentioned; they never desire to know what claim or title my +adversary has to my cow; but whether the said cow were red or black; +her horns long or short; whether the field I graze her in be round or +square; whether she was milked at home or abroad; what diseases she is +subject to, and the like; after which they consult precedents, adjourn +the cause from time to time, and in ten, twenty, or thirty years, come +to an issue. + +“It is likewise to be observed, that this society has a peculiar cant +and jargon of their own, that no other mortal can understand, and +wherein all their laws are written, which they take special care to +multiply; whereby they have wholly confounded the very essence of truth +and falsehood, of right and wrong; so that it will take thirty years to +decide, whether the field left me by my ancestors for six generations +belongs to me, or to a stranger three hundred miles off. + +“In the trial of persons accused for crimes against the state, the +method is much more short and commendable: the judge first sends to +sound the disposition of those in power, after which he can easily hang +or save a criminal, strictly preserving all due forms of law.” + +Here my master interposing, said, “it was a pity, that creatures +endowed with such prodigious abilities of mind, as these lawyers, by +the description I gave of them, must certainly be, were not rather +encouraged to be instructors of others in wisdom and knowledge.” In +answer to which I assured his honour, “that in all points out of their +own trade, they were usually the most ignorant and stupid generation +among us, the most despicable in common conversation, avowed enemies to +all knowledge and learning, and equally disposed to pervert the general +reason of mankind in every other subject of discourse as in that of +their own profession.” + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A continuation of the state of England under Queen Anne. The character +of a first minister of state in European courts. + + +My master was yet wholly at a loss to understand what motives could +incite this race of lawyers to perplex, disquiet, and weary themselves, +and engage in a confederacy of injustice, merely for the sake of +injuring their fellow-animals; neither could he comprehend what I meant +in saying, they did it for hire. Whereupon I was at much pains to +describe to him the use of money, the materials it was made of, and the +value of the metals; “that when a _Yahoo_ had got a great store of this +precious substance, he was able to purchase whatever he had a mind to; +the finest clothing, the noblest houses, great tracts of land, the most +costly meats and drinks, and have his choice of the most beautiful +females. Therefore since money alone was able to perform all these +feats, our _Yahoos_ thought they could never have enough of it to +spend, or to save, as they found themselves inclined, from their +natural bent either to profusion or avarice; that the rich man enjoyed +the fruit of the poor man’s labour, and the latter were a thousand to +one in proportion to the former; that the bulk of our people were +forced to live miserably, by labouring every day for small wages, to +make a few live plentifully.” + +I enlarged myself much on these, and many other particulars to the same +purpose; but his honour was still to seek; for he went upon a +supposition, that all animals had a title to their share in the +productions of the earth, and especially those who presided over the +rest. Therefore he desired I would let him know, “what these costly +meats were, and how any of us happened to want them?” Whereupon I +enumerated as many sorts as came into my head, with the various methods +of dressing them, which could not be done without sending vessels by +sea to every part of the world, as well for liquors to drink as for +sauces and innumerable other conveniences. I assured him “that this +whole globe of earth must be at least three times gone round before one +of our better female _Yahoos_ could get her breakfast, or a cup to put +it in.” He said “that must needs be a miserable country which cannot +furnish food for its own inhabitants. But what he chiefly wondered at +was, how such vast tracts of ground as I described should be wholly +without fresh water, and the people put to the necessity of sending +over the sea for drink.” I replied “that England (the dear place of my +nativity) was computed to produce three times the quantity of food more +than its inhabitants are able to consume, as well as liquors extracted +from grain, or pressed out of the fruit of certain trees, which made +excellent drink, and the same proportion in every other convenience of +life. But, in order to feed the luxury and intemperance of the males, +and the vanity of the females, we sent away the greatest part of our +necessary things to other countries, whence, in return, we brought the +materials of diseases, folly, and vice, to spend among ourselves. Hence +it follows of necessity, that vast numbers of our people are compelled +to seek their livelihood by begging, robbing, stealing, cheating, +pimping, flattering, suborning, forswearing, forging, gaming, lying, +fawning, hectoring, voting, scribbling, star-gazing, poisoning, +whoring, canting, libelling, freethinking, and the like occupations:” +every one of which terms I was at much pains to make him understand. + +“That wine was not imported among us from foreign countries to supply +the want of water or other drinks, but because it was a sort of liquid +which made us merry by putting us out of our senses, diverted all +melancholy thoughts, begat wild extravagant imaginations in the brain, +raised our hopes and banished our fears, suspended every office of +reason for a time, and deprived us of the use of our limbs, till we +fell into a profound sleep; although it must be confessed, that we +always awaked sick and dispirited; and that the use of this liquor +filled us with diseases which made our lives uncomfortable and short. + +“But beside all this, the bulk of our people supported themselves by +furnishing the necessities or conveniences of life to the rich and to +each other. For instance, when I am at home, and dressed as I ought to +be, I carry on my body the workmanship of a hundred tradesmen; the +building and furniture of my house employ as many more, and five times +the number to adorn my wife.” + +I was going on to tell him of another sort of people, who get their +livelihood by attending the sick, having, upon some occasions, informed +his honour that many of my crew had died of diseases. But here it was +with the utmost difficulty that I brought him to apprehend what I +meant. “He could easily conceive, that a _Houyhnhnm_, grew weak and +heavy a few days before his death, or by some accident might hurt a +limb; but that nature, who works all things to perfection, should +suffer any pains to breed in our bodies, he thought impossible, and +desired to know the reason of so unaccountable an evil.” + +I told him “we fed on a thousand things which operated contrary to each +other; that we ate when we were not hungry, and drank without the +provocation of thirst; that we sat whole nights drinking strong +liquors, without eating a bit, which disposed us to sloth, inflamed our +bodies, and precipitated or prevented digestion; that prostitute female +_Yahoos_ acquired a certain malady, which bred rottenness in the bones +of those who fell into their embraces; that this, and many other +diseases, were propagated from father to son; so that great numbers +came into the world with complicated maladies upon them; that it would +be endless to give him a catalogue of all diseases incident to human +bodies, for they would not be fewer than five or six hundred, spread +over every limb and joint—in short, every part, external and intestine, +having diseases appropriated to itself. To remedy which, there was a +sort of people bred up among us in the profession, or pretence, of +curing the sick. And because I had some skill in the faculty, I would, +in gratitude to his honour, let him know the whole mystery and method +by which they proceed. + +“Their fundamental is, that all diseases arise from repletion; whence +they conclude, that a great evacuation of the body is necessary, either +through the natural passage or upwards at the mouth. Their next +business is from herbs, minerals, gums, oils, shells, salts, juices, +sea-weed, excrements, barks of trees, serpents, toads, frogs, spiders, +dead men’s flesh and bones, birds, beasts, and fishes, to form a +composition, for smell and taste, the most abominable, nauseous, and +detestable, they can possibly contrive, which the stomach immediately +rejects with loathing, and this they call a vomit; or else, from the +same store-house, with some other poisonous additions, they command us +to take in at the orifice above or below (just as the physician then +happens to be disposed) a medicine equally annoying and disgustful to +the bowels; which, relaxing the belly, drives down all before it; and +this they call a purge, or a clyster. For nature (as the physicians +allege) having intended the superior anterior orifice only for the +intromission of solids and liquids, and the inferior posterior for +ejection, these artists ingeniously considering that in all diseases +nature is forced out of her seat, therefore, to replace her in it, the +body must be treated in a manner directly contrary, by interchanging +the use of each orifice; forcing solids and liquids in at the anus, and +making evacuations at the mouth. + +“But, besides real diseases, we are subject to many that are only +imaginary, for which the physicians have invented imaginary cures; +these have their several names, and so have the drugs that are proper +for them; and with these our female _Yahoos_ are always infested. + +“One great excellency in this tribe, is their skill at prognostics, +wherein they seldom fail; their predictions in real diseases, when they +rise to any degree of malignity, generally portending death, which is +always in their power, when recovery is not: and therefore, upon any +unexpected signs of amendment, after they have pronounced their +sentence, rather than be accused as false prophets, they know how to +approve their sagacity to the world, by a seasonable dose. + +“They are likewise of special use to husbands and wives who are grown +weary of their mates; to eldest sons, to great ministers of state, and +often to princes.” + +I had formerly, upon occasion, discoursed with my master upon the +nature of government in general, and particularly of our own excellent +constitution, deservedly the wonder and envy of the whole world. But +having here accidentally mentioned a minister of state, he commanded +me, some time after, to inform him, “what species of _Yahoo_ I +particularly meant by that appellation.” + +I told him, “that a first or chief minister of state, who was the +person I intended to describe, was the creature wholly exempt from joy +and grief, love and hatred, pity and anger; at least, makes use of no +other passions, but a violent desire of wealth, power, and titles; that +he applies his words to all uses, except to the indication of his mind; +that he never tells a truth but with an intent that you should take it +for a lie; nor a lie, but with a design that you should take it for a +truth; that those he speaks worst of behind their backs are in the +surest way of preferment; and whenever he begins to praise you to +others, or to yourself, you are from that day forlorn. The worst mark +you can receive is a promise, especially when it is confirmed with an +oath; after which, every wise man retires, and gives over all hopes. + +“There are three methods, by which a man may rise to be chief minister. +The first is, by knowing how, with prudence, to dispose of a wife, a +daughter, or a sister; the second, by betraying or undermining his +predecessor; and the third is, by a furious zeal, in public assemblies, +against the corruptions of the court. But a wise prince would rather +choose to employ those who practise the last of these methods; because +such zealots prove always the most obsequious and subservient to the +will and passions of their master. That these ministers, having all +employments at their disposal, preserve themselves in power, by bribing +the majority of a senate or great council; and at last, by an +expedient, called an act of indemnity” (whereof I described the nature +to him), “they secure themselves from after-reckonings, and retire from +the public laden with the spoils of the nation. + +“The palace of a chief minister is a seminary to breed up others in his +own trade: the pages, lackeys, and porters, by imitating their master, +become ministers of state in their several districts, and learn to +excel in the three principal ingredients, of insolence, lying, and +bribery. Accordingly, they have a subaltern court paid to them by +persons of the best rank; and sometimes by the force of dexterity and +impudence, arrive, through several gradations, to be successors to +their lord. + +“He is usually governed by a decayed wench, or favourite footman, who +are the tunnels through which all graces are conveyed, and may properly +be called, in the last resort, the governors of the kingdom.” + +One day, in discourse, my master, having heard me mention the nobility +of my country, was pleased to make me a compliment which I could not +pretend to deserve: “that he was sure I must have been born of some +noble family, because I far exceeded in shape, colour, and cleanliness, +all the _Yahoos_ of his nation, although I seemed to fail in strength +and agility, which must be imputed to my different way of living from +those other brutes; and besides I was not only endowed with the faculty +of speech, but likewise with some rudiments of reason, to a degree +that, with all his acquaintance, I passed for a prodigy.” + +He made me observe, “that among the _Houyhnhnms_, the white, the +sorrel, and the iron-gray, were not so exactly shaped as the bay, the +dapple-gray, and the black; nor born with equal talents of mind, or a +capacity to improve them; and therefore continued always in the +condition of servants, without ever aspiring to match out of their own +race, which in that country would be reckoned monstrous and unnatural.” + +I made his honour my most humble acknowledgments for the good opinion +he was pleased to conceive of me, but assured him at the same time, +“that my birth was of the lower sort, having been born of plain honest +parents, who were just able to give me a tolerable education; that +nobility, among us, was altogether a different thing from the idea he +had of it; that our young noblemen are bred from their childhood in +idleness and luxury; that, as soon as years will permit, they consume +their vigour, and contract odious diseases among lewd females; and when +their fortunes are almost ruined, they marry some woman of mean birth, +disagreeable person, and unsound constitution (merely for the sake of +money), whom they hate and despise. That the productions of such +marriages are generally scrofulous, rickety, or deformed children; by +which means the family seldom continues above three generations, unless +the wife takes care to provide a healthy father, among her neighbours +or domestics, in order to improve and continue the breed. That a weak +diseased body, a meagre countenance, and sallow complexion, are the +true marks of noble blood; and a healthy robust appearance is so +disgraceful in a man of quality, that the world concludes his real +father to have been a groom or a coachman. The imperfections of his +mind run parallel with those of his body, being a composition of +spleen, dullness, ignorance, caprice, sensuality, and pride. + +“Without the consent of this illustrious body, no law can be enacted, +repealed, or altered: and these nobles have likewise the decision of +all our possessions, without appeal.” [514] + + +CHAPTER VII. + +The author’s great love of his native country. His master’s +observations upon the constitution and administration of England, as +described by the author, with parallel cases and comparisons. His +master’s observations upon human nature. + + +The reader may be disposed to wonder how I could prevail on myself to +give so free a representation of my own species, among a race of +mortals who are already too apt to conceive the vilest opinion of +humankind, from that entire congruity between me and their _Yahoos_. +But I must freely confess, that the many virtues of those excellent +quadrupeds, placed in opposite view to human corruptions, had so far +opened my eyes and enlarged my understanding, that I began to view the +actions and passions of man in a very different light, and to think the +honour of my own kind not worth managing; which, besides, it was +impossible for me to do, before a person of so acute a judgment as my +master, who daily convinced me of a thousand faults in myself, whereof +I had not the least perception before, and which, with us, would never +be numbered even among human infirmities. I had likewise learned, from +his example, an utter detestation of all falsehood or disguise; and +truth appeared so amiable to me, that I determined upon sacrificing +every thing to it. + +Let me deal so candidly with the reader as to confess that there was +yet a much stronger motive for the freedom I took in my representation +of things. I had not yet been a year in this country before I +contracted such a love and veneration for the inhabitants, that I +entered on a firm resolution never to return to humankind, but to pass +the rest of my life among these admirable _Houyhnhnms_, in the +contemplation and practice of every virtue, where I could have no +example or incitement to vice. But it was decreed by fortune, my +perpetual enemy, that so great a felicity should not fall to my share. +However, it is now some comfort to reflect, that in what I said of my +countrymen, I extenuated their faults as much as I durst before so +strict an examiner; and upon every article gave as favourable a turn as +the matter would bear. For, indeed, who is there alive that will not be +swayed by his bias and partiality to the place of his birth? + +I have related the substance of several conversations I had with my +master during the greatest part of the time I had the honour to be in +his service; but have, indeed, for brevity sake, omitted much more than +is here set down. + +When I had answered all his questions, and his curiosity seemed to be +fully satisfied, he sent for me one morning early, and commanded me to +sit down at some distance (an honour which he had never before +conferred upon me). He said, “he had been very seriously considering my +whole story, as far as it related both to myself and my country; that +he looked upon us as a sort of animals, to whose share, by what +accident he could not conjecture, some small pittance of reason had +fallen, whereof we made no other use, than by its assistance, to +aggravate our natural corruptions, and to acquire new ones, which +nature had not given us; that we disarmed ourselves of the few +abilities she had bestowed; had been very successful in multiplying our +original wants, and seemed to spend our whole lives in vain endeavours +to supply them by our own inventions; that, as to myself, it was +manifest I had neither the strength nor agility of a common _Yahoo_; +that I walked infirmly on my hinder feet; had found out a contrivance +to make my claws of no use or defence, and to remove the hair from my +chin, which was intended as a shelter from the sun and the weather: +lastly, that I could neither run with speed, nor climb trees like my +brethren,” as he called them, “the _Yahoos_ in his country. + +“That our institutions of government and law were plainly owing to our +gross defects in reason, and by consequence in virtue; because reason +alone is sufficient to govern a rational creature; which was, +therefore, a character we had no pretence to challenge, even from the +account I had given of my own people; although he manifestly perceived, +that, in order to favour them, I had concealed many particulars, and +often said the thing which was not. + +“He was the more confirmed in this opinion, because, he observed, that +as I agreed in every feature of my body with other _Yahoos_, except +where it was to my real disadvantage in point of strength, speed, and +activity, the shortness of my claws, and some other particulars where +nature had no part; so from the representation I had given him of our +lives, our manners, and our actions, he found as near a resemblance in +the disposition of our minds.” He said, “the _Yahoos_ were known to +hate one another, more than they did any different species of animals; +and the reason usually assigned was, the odiousness of their own +shapes, which all could see in the rest, but not in themselves. He had +therefore begun to think it not unwise in us to cover our bodies, and +by that invention conceal many of our deformities from each other, +which would else be hardly supportable. But he now found he had been +mistaken, and that the dissensions of those brutes in his country were +owing to the same cause with ours, as I had described them. For if,” +said he, “you throw among five _Yahoos_ as much food as would be +sufficient for fifty, they will, instead of eating peaceably, fall +together by the ears, each single one impatient to have all to itself; +and therefore a servant was usually employed to stand by while they +were feeding abroad, and those kept at home were tied at a distance +from each other: that if a cow died of age or accident, before a +_Houyhnhnm_ could secure it for his own _Yahoos_, those in the +neighbourhood would come in herds to seize it, and then would ensue +such a battle as I had described, with terrible wounds made by their +claws on both sides, although they seldom were able to kill one +another, for want of such convenient instruments of death as we had +invented. At other times, the like battles have been fought between the +_Yahoos_ of several neighbourhoods, without any visible cause; those of +one district watching all opportunities to surprise the next, before +they are prepared. But if they find their project has miscarried, they +return home, and, for want of enemies, engage in what I call a civil +war among themselves. + +“That in some fields of his country there are certain shining stones of +several colours, whereof the _Yahoos_ are violently fond: and when part +of these stones is fixed in the earth, as it sometimes happens, they +will dig with their claws for whole days to get them out; then carry +them away, and hide them by heaps in their kennels; but still looking +round with great caution, for fear their comrades should find out their +treasure.” My master said, “he could never discover the reason of this +unnatural appetite, or how these stones could be of any use to a +_Yahoo_; but now he believed it might proceed from the same principle +of avarice which I had ascribed to mankind. That he had once, by way of +experiment, privately removed a heap of these stones from the place +where one of his _Yahoos_ had buried it; whereupon the sordid animal, +missing his treasure, by his loud lamenting brought the whole herd to +the place, there miserably howled, then fell to biting and tearing the +rest, began to pine away, would neither eat, nor sleep, nor work, till +he ordered a servant privately to convey the stones into the same hole, +and hide them as before; which, when his _Yahoo_ had found, he +presently recovered his spirits and good humour, but took good care to +remove them to a better hiding place, and has ever since been a very +serviceable brute.” + +My master further assured me, which I also observed myself, “that in +the fields where the shining stones abound, the fiercest and most +frequent battles are fought, occasioned by perpetual inroads of the +neighbouring _Yahoos_.” + +He said, “it was common, when two _Yahoos_ discovered such a stone in a +field, and were contending which of them should be the proprietor, a +third would take the advantage, and carry it away from them both;” +which my master would needs contend to have some kind of resemblance +with our suits at law; wherein I thought it for our credit not to +undeceive him; since the decision he mentioned was much more equitable +than many decrees among us; because the plaintiff and defendant there +lost nothing beside the stone they contended for: whereas our courts of +equity would never have dismissed the cause, while either of them had +any thing left. + +My master, continuing his discourse, said, “there was nothing that +rendered the _Yahoos_ more odious, than their undistinguishing appetite +to devour every thing that came in their way, whether herbs, roots, +berries, the corrupted flesh of animals, or all mingled together: and +it was peculiar in their temper, that they were fonder of what they +could get by rapine or stealth, at a greater distance, than much better +food provided for them at home. If their prey held out, they would eat +till they were ready to burst; after which, nature had pointed out to +them a certain root that gave them a general evacuation. + +“There was also another kind of root, very juicy, but somewhat rare and +difficult to be found, which the _Yahoos_ sought for with much +eagerness, and would suck it with great delight; it produced in them +the same effects that wine has upon us. It would make them sometimes +hug, and sometimes tear one another; they would howl, and grin, and +chatter, and reel, and tumble, and then fall asleep in the mud.” + +I did indeed observe that the _Yahoos_ were the only animals in this +country subject to any diseases; which, however, were much fewer than +horses have among us, and contracted, not by any ill-treatment they +meet with, but by the nastiness and greediness of that sordid brute. +Neither has their language any more than a general appellation for +those maladies, which is borrowed from the name of the beast, and +called _hnea-yahoo_, or _Yahoo’s evil_; and the cure prescribed is a +mixture of their own dung and urine, forcibly put down the _Yahoo’s_ +throat. This I have since often known to have been taken with success, +and do here freely recommend it to my countrymen for the public good, +as an admirable specific against all diseases produced by repletion. + +“As to learning, government, arts, manufactures, and the like,” my +master confessed, “he could find little or no resemblance between the +_Yahoos_ of that country and those in ours; for he only meant to +observe what parity there was in our natures. He had heard, indeed, +some curious _Houyhnhnms_ observe, that in most herds there was a sort +of ruling _Yahoo_ (as among us there is generally some leading or +principal stag in a park), who was always more deformed in body, and +mischievous in disposition, than any of the rest; that this leader had +usually a favourite as like himself as he could get, whose employment +was to lick his master’s feet and posteriors, and drive the female +_Yahoos_ to his kennel; for which he was now and then rewarded with a +piece of ass’s flesh. This favourite is hated by the whole herd, and +therefore, to protect himself, keeps always near the person of his +leader. He usually continues in office till a worse can be found; but +the very moment he is discarded, his successor, at the head of all the +_Yahoos_ in that district, young and old, male and female, come in a +body, and discharge their excrements upon him from head to foot. But +how far this might be applicable to our courts, and favourites, and +ministers of state, my master said I could best determine.” + +I durst make no return to this malicious insinuation, which debased +human understanding below the sagacity of a common hound, who has +judgment enough to distinguish and follow the cry of the ablest dog in +the pack, without being ever mistaken. + +My master told me, “there were some qualities remarkable in the +_Yahoos_, which he had not observed me to mention, or at least very +slightly, in the accounts I had given of humankind.” He said, “those +animals, like other brutes, had their females in common; but in this +they differed, that the she _Yahoo_ would admit the males while she was +pregnant; and that the hes would quarrel and fight with the females, as +fiercely as with each other; both which practices were such degrees of +infamous brutality, as no other sensitive creature ever arrived at. + +“Another thing he wondered at in the _Yahoos_, was their strange +disposition to nastiness and dirt; whereas there appears to be a +natural love of cleanliness in all other animals.” As to the two former +accusations, I was glad to let them pass without any reply, because I +had not a word to offer upon them in defence of my species, which +otherwise I certainly had done from my own inclinations. But I could +have easily vindicated humankind from the imputation of singularity +upon the last article, if there had been any swine in that country (as +unluckily for me there were not), which, although it may be a sweeter +quadruped than a _Yahoo_, cannot, I humbly conceive, in justice, +pretend to more cleanliness; and so his honour himself must have owned, +if he had seen their filthy way of feeding, and their custom of +wallowing and sleeping in the mud. + +My master likewise mentioned another quality which his servants had +discovered in several Yahoos, and to him was wholly unaccountable. He +said, “a fancy would sometimes take a _Yahoo_ to retire into a corner, +to lie down, and howl, and groan, and spurn away all that came near +him, although he were young and fat, wanted neither food nor water, nor +did the servant imagine what could possibly ail him. And the only +remedy they found was, to set him to hard work, after which he would +infallibly come to himself.” To this I was silent out of partiality to +my own kind; yet here I could plainly discover the true seeds of +spleen, which only seizes on the lazy, the luxurious, and the rich; +who, if they were forced to undergo the same regimen, I would undertake +for the cure. + +His honour had further observed, “that a female _Yahoo_ would often +stand behind a bank or a bush, to gaze on the young males passing by, +and then appear, and hide, using many antic gestures and grimaces, at +which time it was observed that she had a most offensive smell; and +when any of the males advanced, would slowly retire, looking often +back, and with a counterfeit show of fear, run off into some convenient +place, where she knew the male would follow her. + +“At other times, if a female stranger came among them, three or four of +her own sex would get about her, and stare, and chatter, and grin, and +smell her all over; and then turn off with gestures, that seemed to +express contempt and disdain.” + +Perhaps my master might refine a little in these speculations, which he +had drawn from what he observed himself, or had been told him by +others; however, I could not reflect without some amazement, and much +sorrow, that the rudiments of lewdness, coquetry, censure, and scandal, +should have place by instinct in womankind. + +I expected every moment that my master would accuse the _Yahoos_ of +those unnatural appetites in both sexes, so common among us. But +nature, it seems, has not been so expert a school-mistress; and these +politer pleasures are entirely the productions of art and reason on our +side of the globe. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +The author relates several particulars of the _Yahoos_. The great +virtues of the _Houyhnhnms_. The education and exercise of their youth. +Their general assembly. + + +As I ought to have understood human nature much better than I supposed +it possible for my master to do, so it was easy to apply the character +he gave of the _Yahoos_ to myself and my countrymen; and I believed I +could yet make further discoveries, from my own observation. I +therefore often begged his honour to let me go among the herds of +_Yahoos_ in the neighbourhood; to which he always very graciously +consented, being perfectly convinced that the hatred I bore these +brutes would never suffer me to be corrupted by them; and his honour +ordered one of his servants, a strong sorrel nag, very honest and +good-natured, to be my guard; without whose protection I durst not +undertake such adventures. For I have already told the reader how much +I was pestered by these odious animals, upon my first arrival; and I +afterwards failed very narrowly, three or four times, of falling into +their clutches, when I happened to stray at any distance without my +hanger. And I have reason to believe they had some imagination that I +was of their own species, which I often assisted myself by stripping up +my sleeves, and showing my naked arms and breast in their sight, when +my protector was with me. At which times they would approach as near as +they durst, and imitate my actions after the manner of monkeys, but +ever with great signs of hatred; as a tame jackdaw with cap and +stockings is always persecuted by the wild ones, when he happens to be +got among them. + +They are prodigiously nimble from their infancy. However, I once caught +a young male of three years old, and endeavoured, by all marks of +tenderness, to make it quiet; but the little imp fell a squalling and +scratching and biting with such violence, that I was forced to let it +go; and it was high time, for a whole troop of old ones came about us +at the noise, but finding the cub was safe (for away it ran), and my +sorrel nag being by, they durst not venture near us. I observed the +young animal’s flesh to smell very rank, and the stink was somewhat +between a weasel and a fox, but much more disagreeable. I forgot +another circumstance (and perhaps I might have the reader’s pardon if +it were wholly omitted), that while I held the odious vermin in my +hands, it voided its filthy excrements of a yellow liquid substance all +over my clothes; but by good fortune there was a small brook hard by, +where I washed myself as clean as I could; although I durst not come +into my master’s presence until I were sufficiently aired. + +By what I could discover, the _Yahoos_ appear to be the most +unteachable of all animals, their capacity never reaching higher than +to draw or carry burdens. Yet I am of opinion this defect arises +chiefly from a perverse, restive disposition; for they are cunning, +malicious, treacherous, and revengeful. They are strong and hardy, but +of a cowardly spirit, and, by consequence, insolent, abject, and cruel. +It is observed, that the red haired of both sexes are more libidinous +and mischievous than the rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength +and activity. + +The _Houyhnhnms_ keep the _Yahoos_ for present use in huts not far from +the house; but the rest are sent abroad to certain fields, where they +dig up roots, eat several kinds of herbs, and search about for carrion, +or sometimes catch weasels and _luhimuhs_ (a sort of wild rat), which +they greedily devour. Nature has taught them to dig deep holes with +their nails on the side of a rising ground, wherein they lie by +themselves; only the kennels of the females are larger, sufficient to +hold two or three cubs. + +They swim from their infancy like frogs, and are able to continue long +under water, where they often take fish, which the females carry home +to their young. And, upon this occasion, I hope the reader will pardon +my relating an odd adventure. + +Being one day abroad with my protector the sorrel nag, and the weather +exceeding hot, I entreated him to let me bathe in a river that was +near. He consented, and I immediately stripped myself stark naked, and +went down softly into the stream. It happened that a young female +_Yahoo_, standing behind a bank, saw the whole proceeding, and inflamed +by desire, as the nag and I conjectured, came running with all speed, +and leaped into the water, within five yards of the place where I +bathed. I was never in my life so terribly frightened. The nag was +grazing at some distance, not suspecting any harm. She embraced me +after a most fulsome manner. I roared as loud as I could, and the nag +came galloping towards me, whereupon she quitted her grasp, with the +utmost reluctancy, and leaped upon the opposite bank, where she stood +gazing and howling all the time I was putting on my clothes. + +This was a matter of diversion to my master and his family, as well as +of mortification to myself. For now I could no longer deny that I was a +real _Yahoo_ in every limb and feature, since the females had a natural +propensity to me, as one of their own species. Neither was the hair of +this brute of a red colour (which might have been some excuse for an +appetite a little irregular), but black as a sloe, and her countenance +did not make an appearance altogether so hideous as the rest of her +kind; for I think she could not be above eleven years old. + +Having lived three years in this country, the reader, I suppose, will +expect that I should, like other travellers, give him some account of +the manners and customs of its inhabitants, which it was indeed my +principal study to learn. + +As these noble _Houyhnhnms_ are endowed by nature with a general +disposition to all virtues, and have no conceptions or ideas of what is +evil in a rational creature, so their grand maxim is, to cultivate +reason, and to be wholly governed by it. Neither is reason among them a +point problematical, as with us, where men can argue with plausibility +on both sides of the question, but strikes you with immediate +conviction; as it must needs do, where it is not mingled, obscured, or +discoloured, by passion and interest. I remember it was with extreme +difficulty that I could bring my master to understand the meaning of +the word opinion, or how a point could be disputable; because reason +taught us to affirm or deny only where we are certain; and beyond our +knowledge we cannot do either. So that controversies, wranglings, +disputes, and positiveness, in false or dubious propositions, are evils +unknown among the _Houyhnhnms_. In the like manner, when I used to +explain to him our several systems of natural philosophy, he would +laugh, “that a creature pretending to reason, should value itself upon +the knowledge of other people’s conjectures, and in things where that +knowledge, if it were certain, could be of no use.” Wherein he agreed +entirely with the sentiments of Socrates, as Plato delivers them; which +I mention as the highest honour I can do that prince of philosophers. I +have often since reflected, what destruction such doctrine would make +in the libraries of Europe; and how many paths of fame would be then +shut up in the learned world. + +Friendship and benevolence are the two principal virtues among the +_Houyhnhnms_; and these not confined to particular objects, but +universal to the whole race; for a stranger from the remotest part is +equally treated with the nearest neighbour, and wherever he goes, looks +upon himself as at home. They preserve decency and civility in the +highest degrees, but are altogether ignorant of ceremony. They have no +fondness for their colts or foals, but the care they take in educating +them proceeds entirely from the dictates of reason. And I observed my +master to show the same affection to his neighbour’s issue, that he had +for his own. They will have it that nature teaches them to love the +whole species, and it is reason only that makes a distinction of +persons, where there is a superior degree of virtue. + +When the matron _Houyhnhnms_ have produced one of each sex, they no +longer accompany with their consorts, except they lose one of their +issue by some casualty, which very seldom happens; but in such a case +they meet again; or when the like accident befalls a person whose wife +is past bearing, some other couple bestow on him one of their own +colts, and then go together again until the mother is pregnant. This +caution is necessary, to prevent the country from being overburdened +with numbers. But the race of inferior _Houyhnhnms_, bred up to be +servants, is not so strictly limited upon this article: these are +allowed to produce three of each sex, to be domestics in the noble +families. + +In their marriages, they are exactly careful to choose such colours as +will not make any disagreeable mixture in the breed. Strength is +chiefly valued in the male, and comeliness in the female; not upon the +account of love, but to preserve the race from degenerating; for where +a female happens to excel in strength, a consort is chosen, with regard +to comeliness. + +Courtship, love, presents, jointures, settlements have no place in +their thoughts, or terms whereby to express them in their language. The +young couple meet, and are joined, merely because it is the +determination of their parents and friends; it is what they see done +every day, and they look upon it as one of the necessary actions of a +reasonable being. But the violation of marriage, or any other +unchastity, was never heard of; and the married pair pass their lives +with the same friendship and mutual benevolence, that they bear to all +others of the same species who come in their way, without jealousy, +fondness, quarrelling, or discontent. + +In educating the youth of both sexes, their method is admirable, and +highly deserves our imitation. These are not suffered to taste a grain +of oats, except upon certain days, till eighteen years old; nor milk, +but very rarely; and in summer they graze two hours in the morning, and +as many in the evening, which their parents likewise observe; but the +servants are not allowed above half that time, and a great part of +their grass is brought home, which they eat at the most convenient +hours, when they can be best spared from work. + +Temperance, industry, exercise, and cleanliness, are the lessons +equally enjoined to the young ones of both sexes: and my master thought +it monstrous in us, to give the females a different kind of education +from the males, except in some articles of domestic management; +whereby, as he truly observed, one half of our natives were good for +nothing but bringing children into the world; and to trust the care of +our children to such useless animals, he said, was yet a greater +instance of brutality. + +But the _Houyhnhnms_ train up their youth to strength, speed, and +hardiness, by exercising them in running races up and down steep hills, +and over hard stony grounds; and when they are all in a sweat, they are +ordered to leap over head and ears into a pond or river. Four times a +year the youth of a certain district meet to show their proficiency in +running and leaping, and other feats of strength and agility; where the +victor is rewarded with a song in his or her praise. On this festival, +the servants drive a herd of _Yahoos_ into the field, laden with hay, +and oats, and milk, for a repast to the _Houyhnhnms_; after which, +these brutes are immediately driven back again, for fear of being +noisome to the assembly. + +Every fourth year, at the vernal equinox, there is a representative +council of the whole nation, which meets in a plain about twenty miles +from our house, and continues about five or six days. Here they inquire +into the state and condition of the several districts; whether they +abound or be deficient in hay or oats, or cows, or _Yahoos_; and +wherever there is any want (which is but seldom) it is immediately +supplied by unanimous consent and contribution. Here likewise the +regulation of children is settled: as for instance, if a _Houyhnhnm_ +has two males, he changes one of them with another that has two +females; and when a child has been lost by any casualty, where the +mother is past breeding, it is determined what family in the district +shall breed another to supply the loss. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A grand debate at the general assembly of the _Houyhnhnms_, and how it +was determined. The learning of the _Houyhnhnms_. Their buildings. +Their manner of burials. The defectiveness of their language. + + +One of these grand assemblies was held in my time, about three months +before my departure, whither my master went as the representative of +our district. In this council was resumed their old debate, and indeed +the only debate that ever happened in their country; whereof my master, +after his return, gave me a very particular account. + +The question to be debated was, “whether the _Yahoos_ should be +exterminated from the face of the earth?” One of the members for the +affirmative offered several arguments of great strength and weight, +alleging, “that as the _Yahoos_ were the most filthy, noisome, and +deformed animals which nature ever produced, so they were the most +restive and indocible, mischievous and malicious; they would privately +suck the teats of the _Houyhnhnms’_ cows, kill and devour their cats, +trample down their oats and grass, if they were not continually +watched, and commit a thousand other extravagancies.” He took notice of +a general tradition, “that _Yahoos_ had not been always in their +country; but that many ages ago, two of these brutes appeared together +upon a mountain; whether produced by the heat of the sun upon corrupted +mud and slime, or from the ooze and froth of the sea, was never known; +that these _Yahoos_ engendered, and their brood, in a short time, grew +so numerous as to overrun and infest the whole nation; that the +_Houyhnhnms_, to get rid of this evil, made a general hunting, and at +last enclosed the whole herd; and destroying the elder, every +_Houyhnhnm_ kept two young ones in a kennel, and brought them to such a +degree of tameness, as an animal, so savage by nature, can be capable +of acquiring, using them for draught and carriage; that there seemed to +be much truth in this tradition, and that those creatures could not be +_yinhniamshy_ (or _aborigines_ of the land), because of the violent +hatred the _Houyhnhnms_, as well as all other animals, bore them, +which, although their evil disposition sufficiently deserved, could +never have arrived at so high a degree if they had been _aborigines_, +or else they would have long since been rooted out; that the +inhabitants, taking a fancy to use the service of the _Yahoos_, had, +very imprudently, neglected to cultivate the breed of asses, which are +a comely animal, easily kept, more tame and orderly, without any +offensive smell, strong enough for labour, although they yield to the +other in agility of body, and if their braying be no agreeable sound, +it is far preferable to the horrible howlings of the _Yahoos_.” + +Several others declared their sentiments to the same purpose, when my +master proposed an expedient to the assembly, whereof he had indeed +borrowed the hint from me. “He approved of the tradition mentioned by +the honourable member who spoke before, and affirmed, that the two +_Yahoos_ said to be seen first among them, had been driven thither over +the sea; that coming to land, and being forsaken by their companions, +they retired to the mountains, and degenerating by degrees, became in +process of time much more savage than those of their own species in the +country whence these two originals came. The reason of this assertion +was, that he had now in his possession a certain wonderful _Yahoo_ +(meaning myself) which most of them had heard of, and many of them had +seen. He then related to them how he first found me; that my body was +all covered with an artificial composure of the skins and hairs of +other animals; that I spoke in a language of my own, and had thoroughly +learned theirs; that I had related to him the accidents which brought +me thither; that when he saw me without my covering, I was an exact +_Yahoo_ in every part, only of a whiter colour, less hairy, and with +shorter claws. He added, how I had endeavoured to persuade him, that in +my own and other countries, the _Yahoos_ acted as the governing, +rational animal, and held the _Houyhnhnms_ in servitude; that he +observed in me all the qualities of a _Yahoo_, only a little more +civilized by some tincture of reason, which, however, was in a degree +as far inferior to the _Houyhnhnm_ race, as the _Yahoos_ of their +country were to me; that, among other things, I mentioned a custom we +had of castrating _Houyhnhnms_ when they were young, in order to render +them tame; that the operation was easy and safe; that it was no shame +to learn wisdom from brutes, as industry is taught by the ant, and +building by the swallow (for so I translate the word _lyhannh_, +although it be a much larger fowl); that this invention might be +practised upon the younger _Yahoos_ here, which besides rendering them +tractable and fitter for use, would in an age put an end to the whole +species, without destroying life; that in the mean time the +_Houyhnhnms_ should be exhorted to cultivate the breed of asses, which, +as they are in all respects more valuable brutes, so they have this +advantage, to be fit for service at five years old, which the others +are not till twelve.” + +This was all my master thought fit to tell me, at that time, of what +passed in the grand council. But he was pleased to conceal one +particular, which related personally to myself, whereof I soon felt the +unhappy effect, as the reader will know in its proper place, and whence +I date all the succeeding misfortunes of my life. + +The _Houyhnhnms_ have no letters, and consequently their knowledge is +all traditional. But there happening few events of any moment among a +people so well united, naturally disposed to every virtue, wholly +governed by reason, and cut off from all commerce with other nations, +the historical part is easily preserved without burdening their +memories. I have already observed that they are subject to no diseases, +and therefore can have no need of physicians. However, they have +excellent medicines, composed of herbs, to cure accidental bruises and +cuts in the pastern or frog of the foot, by sharp stones, as well as +other maims and hurts in the several parts of the body. + +They calculate the year by the revolution of the sun and moon, but use +no subdivisions into weeks. They are well enough acquainted with the +motions of those two luminaries, and understand the nature of eclipses; +and this is the utmost progress of their astronomy. + +In poetry, they must be allowed to excel all other mortals; wherein the +justness of their similes, and the minuteness as well as exactness of +their descriptions, are indeed inimitable. Their verses abound very +much in both of these, and usually contain either some exalted notions +of friendship and benevolence or the praises of those who were victors +in races and other bodily exercises. Their buildings, although very +rude and simple, are not inconvenient, but well contrived to defend +them from all injuries of cold and heat. They have a kind of tree, +which at forty years old loosens in the root, and falls with the first +storm: it grows very straight, and being pointed like stakes with a +sharp stone (for the _Houyhnhnms_ know not the use of iron), they stick +them erect in the ground, about ten inches asunder, and then weave in +oat straw, or sometimes wattles, between them. The roof is made after +the same manner, and so are the doors. + +The _Houyhnhnms_ use the hollow part, between the pastern and the hoof +of their fore-foot, as we do our hands, and this with greater dexterity +than I could at first imagine. I have seen a white mare of our family +thread a needle (which I lent her on purpose) with that joint. They +milk their cows, reap their oats, and do all the work which requires +hands, in the same manner. They have a kind of hard flints, which, by +grinding against other stones, they form into instruments, that serve +instead of wedges, axes, and hammers. With tools made of these flints, +they likewise cut their hay, and reap their oats, which there grow +naturally in several fields; the _Yahoos_ draw home the sheaves in +carriages, and the servants tread them in certain covered huts to get +out the grain, which is kept in stores. They make a rude kind of +earthen and wooden vessels, and bake the former in the sun. + +If they can avoid casualties, they die only of old age, and are buried +in the obscurest places that can be found, their friends and relations +expressing neither joy nor grief at their departure; nor does the dying +person discover the least regret that he is leaving the world, any more +than if he were upon returning home from a visit to one of his +neighbours. I remember my master having once made an appointment with a +friend and his family to come to his house, upon some affair of +importance: on the day fixed, the mistress and her two children came +very late; she made two excuses, first for her husband, who, as she +said, happened that very morning to _shnuwnh_. The word is strongly +expressive in their language, but not easily rendered into English; it +signifies, “to retire to his first mother.” Her excuse for not coming +sooner, was, that her husband dying late in the morning, she was a good +while consulting her servants about a convenient place where his body +should be laid; and I observed, she behaved herself at our house as +cheerfully as the rest. She died about three months after. + +They live generally to seventy, or seventy-five years, very seldom to +fourscore. Some weeks before their death, they feel a gradual decay; +but without pain. During this time they are much visited by their +friends, because they cannot go abroad with their usual ease and +satisfaction. However, about ten days before their death, which they +seldom fail in computing, they return the visits that have been made +them by those who are nearest in the neighbourhood, being carried in a +convenient sledge drawn by _Yahoos_; which vehicle they use, not only +upon this occasion, but when they grow old, upon long journeys, or when +they are lamed by any accident: and therefore when the dying +_Houyhnhnms_ return those visits, they take a solemn leave of their +friends, as if they were going to some remote part of the country, +where they designed to pass the rest of their lives. + +I know not whether it may be worth observing, that the _Houyhnhnms_ +have no word in their language to express any thing that is evil, +except what they borrow from the deformities or ill qualities of the +_Yahoos_. Thus they denote the folly of a servant, an omission of a +child, a stone that cuts their feet, a continuance of foul or +unseasonable weather, and the like, by adding to each the epithet of +_Yahoo_. For instance, _hhnm Yahoo_; _whnaholm Yahoo_, _ynlhmndwihlma +Yahoo_, and an ill-contrived house _ynholmhnmrohlnw Yahoo_. + +I could, with great pleasure, enlarge further upon the manners and +virtues of this excellent people; but intending in a short time to +publish a volume by itself, expressly upon that subject, I refer the +reader thither; and, in the mean time, proceed to relate my own sad +catastrophe. + + +CHAPTER X. + +The author’s economy, and happy life among the Houyhnhnms. His great +improvement in virtue by conversing with them. Their conversations. The +author has notice given him by his master, that he must depart from the +country. He falls into a swoon for grief; but submits. He contrives and +finishes a canoe by the help of a fellow-servant, and puts to sea at a +venture. + + +I had settled my little economy to my own heart’s content. My master +had ordered a room to be made for me, after their manner, about six +yards from the house: the sides and floors of which I plastered with +clay, and covered with rush-mats of my own contriving. I had beaten +hemp, which there grows wild, and made of it a sort of ticking; this I +filled with the feathers of several birds I had taken with springes +made of _Yahoos’_ hairs, and were excellent food. I had worked two +chairs with my knife, the sorrel nag helping me in the grosser and more +laborious part. When my clothes were worn to rags, I made myself others +with the skins of rabbits, and of a certain beautiful animal, about the +same size, called _nnuhnoh_, the skin of which is covered with a fine +down. Of these I also made very tolerable stockings. I soled my shoes +with wood, which I cut from a tree, and fitted to the upper-leather; +and when this was worn out, I supplied it with the skins of _Yahoos_ +dried in the sun. I often got honey out of hollow trees, which I +mingled with water, or ate with my bread. No man could more verify the +truth of these two maxims, “That nature is very easily satisfied;” and, +“That necessity is the mother of invention.” I enjoyed perfect health +of body, and tranquillity of mind; I did not feel the treachery or +inconstancy of a friend, nor the injuries of a secret or open enemy. I +had no occasion of bribing, flattering, or pimping, to procure the +favour of any great man, or of his minion; I wanted no fence against +fraud or oppression: here was neither physician to destroy my body, nor +lawyer to ruin my fortune; no informer to watch my words and actions, +or forge accusations against me for hire: here were no gibers, +censurers, backbiters, pickpockets, highwaymen, housebreakers, +attorneys, bawds, buffoons, gamesters, politicians, wits, splenetics, +tedious talkers, controvertists, ravishers, murderers, robbers, +virtuosos; no leaders, or followers, of party and faction; no +encouragers to vice, by seducement or examples; no dungeon, axes, +gibbets, whipping-posts, or pillories; no cheating shopkeepers or +mechanics; no pride, vanity, or affectation; no fops, bullies, +drunkards, strolling whores, or poxes; no ranting, lewd, expensive +wives; no stupid, proud pedants; no importunate, overbearing, +quarrelsome, noisy, roaring, empty, conceited, swearing companions; no +scoundrels raised from the dust upon the merit of their vices, or +nobility thrown into it on account of their virtues; no lords, +fiddlers, judges, or dancing-masters. + +I had the favour of being admitted to several _Houyhnhnms_, who came to +visit or dine with my master; where his honour graciously suffered me +to wait in the room, and listen to their discourse. Both he and his +company would often descend to ask me questions, and receive my +answers. I had also sometimes the honour of attending my master in his +visits to others. I never presumed to speak, except in answer to a +question; and then I did it with inward regret, because it was a loss +of so much time for improving myself; but I was infinitely delighted +with the station of an humble auditor in such conversations, where +nothing passed but what was useful, expressed in the fewest and most +significant words; where, as I have already said, the greatest decency +was observed, without the least degree of ceremony; where no person +spoke without being pleased himself, and pleasing his companions; where +there was no interruption, tediousness, heat, or difference of +sentiments. They have a notion, that when people are met together, a +short silence does much improve conversation: this I found to be true; +for during those little intermissions of talk, new ideas would arise in +their minds, which very much enlivened the discourse. Their subjects +are, generally on friendship and benevolence, on order and economy; +sometimes upon the visible operations of nature, or ancient traditions; +upon the bounds and limits of virtue; upon the unerring rules of +reason, or upon some determinations to be taken at the next great +assembly: and often upon the various excellences of poetry. I may add, +without vanity, that my presence often gave them sufficient matter for +discourse, because it afforded my master an occasion of letting his +friends into the history of me and my country, upon which they were all +pleased to descant, in a manner not very advantageous to humankind: and +for that reason I shall not repeat what they said; only I may be +allowed to observe, that his honour, to my great admiration, appeared +to understand the nature of _Yahoos_ much better than myself. He went +through all our vices and follies, and discovered many, which I had +never mentioned to him, by only supposing what qualities a _Yahoo_ of +their country, with a small proportion of reason, might be capable of +exerting; and concluded, with too much probability, “how vile, as well +as miserable, such a creature must be.” + +I freely confess, that all the little knowledge I have of any value, +was acquired by the lectures I received from my master, and from +hearing the discourses of him and his friends; to which I should be +prouder to listen, than to dictate to the greatest and wisest assembly +in Europe. I admired the strength, comeliness, and speed of the +inhabitants; and such a constellation of virtues, in such amiable +persons, produced in me the highest veneration. At first, indeed, I did +not feel that natural awe, which the _Yahoos_ and all other animals +bear toward them; but it grew upon me by degrees, much sooner than I +imagined, and was mingled with a respectful love and gratitude, that +they would condescend to distinguish me from the rest of my species. + +When I thought of my family, my friends, my countrymen, or the human +race in general, I considered them, as they really were, _Yahoos_ in +shape and disposition, perhaps a little more civilized, and qualified +with the gift of speech; but making no other use of reason, than to +improve and multiply those vices whereof their brethren in this country +had only the share that nature allotted them. When I happened to behold +the reflection of my own form in a lake or fountain, I turned away my +face in horror and detestation of myself, and could better endure the +sight of a common _Yahoo_ than of my own person. By conversing with the +_Houyhnhnms_, and looking upon them with delight, I fell to imitate +their gait and gesture, which is now grown into a habit; and my friends +often tell me, in a blunt way, “that I trot like a horse;” which, +however, I take for a great compliment. Neither shall I disown, that in +speaking I am apt to fall into the voice and manner of the +_Houyhnhnms_, and hear myself ridiculed on that account, without the +least mortification. + +In the midst of all this happiness, and when I looked upon myself to be +fully settled for life, my master sent for me one morning a little +earlier than his usual hour. I observed by his countenance that he was +in some perplexity, and at a loss how to begin what he had to speak. +After a short silence, he told me, “he did not know how I would take +what he was going to say: that in the last general assembly, when the +affair of the _Yahoos_ was entered upon, the representatives had taken +offence at his keeping a _Yahoo_ (meaning myself) in his family, more +like a _Houyhnhnm_ than a brute animal; that he was known frequently to +converse with me, as if he could receive some advantage or pleasure in +my company; that such a practice was not agreeable to reason or nature, +or a thing ever heard of before among them; the assembly did therefore +exhort him either to employ me like the rest of my species, or command +me to swim back to the place whence I came: that the first of these +expedients was utterly rejected by all the _Houyhnhnms_ who had ever +seen me at his house or their own; for they alleged, that because I had +some rudiments of reason, added to the natural pravity of those +animals, it was to be feared I might be able to seduce them into the +woody and mountainous parts of the country, and bring them in troops by +night to destroy the _Houyhnhnms’_ cattle, as being naturally of the +ravenous kind, and averse from labour.” + +My master added, “that he was daily pressed by the _Houyhnhnms_ of the +neighbourhood to have the assembly’s exhortation executed, which he +could not put off much longer. He doubted it would be impossible for me +to swim to another country; and therefore wished I would contrive some +sort of vehicle, resembling those I had described to him, that might +carry me on the sea; in which work I should have the assistance of his +own servants, as well as those of his neighbours.” He concluded, “that +for his own part, he could have been content to keep me in his service +as long as I lived; because he found I had cured myself of some bad +habits and dispositions, by endeavouring, as far as my inferior nature +was capable, to imitate the _Houyhnhnms_.” + +I should here observe to the reader, that a decree of the general +assembly in this country is expressed by the word _hnhloayn_, which +signifies an exhortation, as near as I can render it; for they have no +conception how a rational creature can be compelled, but only advised, +or exhorted; because no person can disobey reason, without giving up +his claim to be a rational creature. + +I was struck with the utmost grief and despair at my master’s +discourse; and being unable to support the agonies I was under, I fell +into a swoon at his feet. When I came to myself, he told me “that he +concluded I had been dead;” for these people are subject to no such +imbecilities of nature. I answered in a faint voice, “that death would +have been too great a happiness; that although I could not blame the +assembly’s exhortation, or the urgency of his friends; yet, in my weak +and corrupt judgment, I thought it might consist with reason to have +been less rigorous; that I could not swim a league, and probably the +nearest land to theirs might be distant above a hundred: that many +materials, necessary for making a small vessel to carry me off, were +wholly wanting in this country; which, however, I would attempt, in +obedience and gratitude to his honour, although I concluded the thing +to be impossible, and therefore looked on myself as already devoted to +destruction; that the certain prospect of an unnatural death was the +least of my evils; for, supposing I should escape with life by some +strange adventure, how could I think with temper of passing my days +among _Yahoos_, and relapsing into my old corruptions, for want of +examples to lead and keep me within the paths of virtue? That I knew +too well upon what solid reasons all the determinations of the wise +_Houyhnhnms_ were founded, not to be shaken by arguments of mine, a +miserable _Yahoo_; and therefore, after presenting him with my humble +thanks for the offer of his servants’ assistance in making a vessel, +and desiring a reasonable time for so difficult a work, I told him I +would endeavour to preserve a wretched being; and if ever I returned to +England, was not without hopes of being useful to my own species, by +celebrating the praises of the renowned _Houyhnhnms_, and proposing +their virtues to the imitation of mankind.” + +My master, in a few words, made me a very gracious reply; allowed me +the space of two months to finish my boat; and ordered the sorrel nag, +my fellow-servant (for so, at this distance, I may presume to call +him), to follow my instruction; because I told my master, “that his +help would be sufficient, and I knew he had a tenderness for me.” + +In his company, my first business was to go to that part of the coast +where my rebellious crew had ordered me to be set on shore. I got upon +a height, and looking on every side into the sea; fancied I saw a small +island toward the north-east. I took out my pocket glass, and could +then clearly distinguish it above five leagues off, as I computed; but +it appeared to the sorrel nag to be only a blue cloud: for as he had no +conception of any country beside his own, so he could not be as expert +in distinguishing remote objects at sea, as we who so much converse in +that element. + +After I had discovered this island, I considered no further; but +resolved it should, if possible, be the first place of my banishment, +leaving the consequence to fortune. + +I returned home, and consulting with the sorrel nag, we went into a +copse at some distance, where I with my knife, and he with a sharp +flint, fastened very artificially after their manner, to a wooden +handle, cut down several oak wattles, about the thickness of a +walking-staff, and some larger pieces. But I shall not trouble the +reader with a particular description of my own mechanics; let it +suffice to say, that in six weeks time with the help of the sorrel nag, +who performed the parts that required most labour, I finished a sort of +Indian canoe, but much larger, covering it with the skins of _Yahoos_, +well stitched together with hempen threads of my own making. My sail +was likewise composed of the skins of the same animal; but I made use +of the youngest I could get, the older being too tough and thick; and I +likewise provided myself with four paddles. I laid in a stock of boiled +flesh, of rabbits and fowls, and took with me two vessels, one filled +with milk and the other with water. + +I tried my canoe in a large pond, near my master’s house, and then +corrected in it what was amiss; stopping all the chinks with _Yahoos’_ +tallow, till I found it staunch, and able to bear me and my freight; +and, when it was as complete as I could possibly make it, I had it +drawn on a carriage very gently by _Yahoos_ to the sea-side, under the +conduct of the sorrel nag and another servant. + +When all was ready, and the day came for my departure, I took leave of +my master and lady and the whole family, my eyes flowing with tears, +and my heart quite sunk with grief. But his honour, out of curiosity, +and, perhaps, (if I may speak without vanity,) partly out of kindness, +was determined to see me in my canoe, and got several of his +neighbouring friends to accompany him. I was forced to wait above an +hour for the tide; and then observing the wind very fortunately bearing +toward the island to which I intended to steer my course, I took a +second leave of my master; but as I was going to prostrate myself to +kiss his hoof, he did me the honour to raise it gently to my mouth. I +am not ignorant how much I have been censured for mentioning this last +particular. Detractors are pleased to think it improbable, that so +illustrious a person should descend to give so great a mark of +distinction to a creature so inferior as I. Neither have I forgotten +how apt some travellers are to boast of extraordinary favours they have +received. But, if these censurers were better acquainted with the noble +and courteous disposition of the _Houyhnhnms_, they would soon change +their opinion. + +I paid my respects to the rest of the _Houyhnhnms_ in his honour’s +company; then getting into my canoe, I pushed off from shore. + + +CHAPTER XI. + +The author’s dangerous voyage. He arrives at New Holland, hoping to +settle there. Is wounded with an arrow by one of the natives. Is seized +and carried by force into a Portuguese ship. The great civilities of +the captain. The author arrives at England. + + +I began this desperate voyage on February 15, 1714–15, at nine o’clock +in the morning. The wind was very favourable; however, I made use at +first only of my paddles; but considering I should soon be weary, and +that the wind might chop about, I ventured to set up my little sail; +and thus, with the help of the tide, I went at the rate of a league and +a half an hour, as near as I could guess. My master and his friends +continued on the shore till I was almost out of sight; and I often +heard the sorrel nag (who always loved me) crying out, “_Hnuy illa +nyha_, _majah Yahoo_;” “Take care of thyself, gentle _Yahoo_.” + +My design was, if possible, to discover some small island uninhabited, +yet sufficient, by my labour, to furnish me with the necessaries of +life, which I would have thought a greater happiness, than to be first +minister in the politest court of Europe; so horrible was the idea I +conceived of returning to live in the society, and under the government +of _Yahoos_. For in such a solitude as I desired, I could at least +enjoy my own thoughts, and reflect with delight on the virtues of those +inimitable _Houyhnhnms_, without an opportunity of degenerating into +the vices and corruptions of my own species. + +The reader may remember what I related, when my crew conspired against +me, and confined me to my cabin; how I continued there several weeks +without knowing what course we took; and when I was put ashore in the +long-boat, how the sailors told me, with oaths, whether true or false, +“that they knew not in what part of the world we were.” However, I did +then believe us to be about 10 degrees southward of the Cape of Good +Hope, or about 45 degrees southern latitude, as I gathered from some +general words I overheard among them, being I supposed to the +south-east in their intended voyage to Madagascar. And although this +were little better than conjecture, yet I resolved to steer my course +eastward, hoping to reach the south-west coast of New Holland, and +perhaps some such island as I desired lying westward of it. The wind +was full west, and by six in the evening I computed I had gone eastward +at least eighteen leagues; when I spied a very small island about half +a league off, which I soon reached. It was nothing but a rock, with one +creek naturally arched by the force of tempests. Here I put in my +canoe, and climbing a part of the rock, I could plainly discover land +to the east, extending from south to north. I lay all night in my +canoe; and repeating my voyage early in the morning, I arrived in seven +hours to the south-east point of New Holland. This confirmed me in the +opinion I have long entertained, that the maps and charts place this +country at least three degrees more to the east than it really is; +which thought I communicated many years ago to my worthy friend, Mr. +Herman Moll, and gave him my reasons for it, although he has rather +chosen to follow other authors. + +I saw no inhabitants in the place where I landed, and being unarmed, I +was afraid of venturing far into the country. I found some shellfish on +the shore, and ate them raw, not daring to kindle a fire, for fear of +being discovered by the natives. I continued three days feeding on +oysters and limpets, to save my own provisions; and I fortunately found +a brook of excellent water, which gave me great relief. + +On the fourth day, venturing out early a little too far, I saw twenty +or thirty natives upon a height not above five hundred yards from me. +They were stark naked, men, women, and children, round a fire, as I +could discover by the smoke. One of them spied me, and gave notice to +the rest; five of them advanced toward me, leaving the women and +children at the fire. I made what haste I could to the shore, and, +getting into my canoe, shoved off: the savages, observing me retreat, +ran after me; and before I could get far enough into the sea, +discharged an arrow which wounded me deeply on the inside of my left +knee: I shall carry the mark to my grave. I apprehended the arrow might +be poisoned, and paddling out of the reach of their darts (being a calm +day), I made a shift to suck the wound, and dress it as well as I +could. + +I was at a loss what to do, for I durst not return to the same +landing-place, but stood to the north, and was forced to paddle, for +the wind, though very gentle, was against me, blowing north-west. As I +was looking about for a secure landing-place, I saw a sail to the +north-north-east, which appearing every minute more visible, I was in +some doubt whether I should wait for them or not; but at last my +detestation of the _Yahoo_ race prevailed: and turning my canoe, I +sailed and paddled together to the south, and got into the same creek +whence I set out in the morning, choosing rather to trust myself among +these barbarians, than live with European _Yahoos_. I drew up my canoe +as close as I could to the shore, and hid myself behind a stone by the +little brook, which, as I have already said, was excellent water. + +The ship came within half a league of this creek, and sent her +long-boat with vessels to take in fresh water (for the place, it seems, +was very well known); but I did not observe it, till the boat was +almost on shore; and it was too late to seek another hiding-place. The +seamen at their landing observed my canoe, and rummaging it all over, +easily conjectured that the owner could not be far off. Four of them, +well armed, searched every cranny and lurking-hole, till at last they +found me flat on my face behind the stone. They gazed awhile in +admiration at my strange uncouth dress; my coat made of skins, my +wooden-soled shoes, and my furred stockings; whence, however, they +concluded, I was not a native of the place, who all go naked. One of +the seamen, in Portuguese, bid me rise, and asked who I was. I +understood that language very well, and getting upon my feet, said, “I +was a poor _Yahoo_ banished from the _Houyhnhnms_, and desired they +would please to let me depart.” They admired to hear me answer them in +their own tongue, and saw by my complexion I must be a European; but +were at a loss to know what I meant by _Yahoos_ and _Houyhnhnms_; and +at the same time fell a-laughing at my strange tone in speaking, which +resembled the neighing of a horse. I trembled all the while betwixt +fear and hatred. I again desired leave to depart, and was gently moving +to my canoe; but they laid hold of me, desiring to know, “what country +I was of? whence I came?” with many other questions. I told them “I was +born in England, whence I came about five years ago, and then their +country and ours were at peace. I therefore hoped they would not treat +me as an enemy, since I meant them no harm, but was a poor _Yahoo_ +seeking some desolate place where to pass the remainder of his +unfortunate life.” + +When they began to talk, I thought I never heard or saw any thing more +unnatural; for it appeared to me as monstrous as if a dog or a cow +should speak in England, or a _Yahoo_ in _Houyhnhnmland_. The honest +Portuguese were equally amazed at my strange dress, and the odd manner +of delivering my words, which, however, they understood very well. They +spoke to me with great humanity, and said, “they were sure the captain +would carry me _gratis_ to Lisbon, whence I might return to my own +country; that two of the seamen would go back to the ship, inform the +captain of what they had seen, and receive his orders; in the mean +time, unless I would give my solemn oath not to fly, they would secure +me by force. I thought it best to comply with their proposal. They were +very curious to know my story, but I gave them very little +satisfaction, and they all conjectured that my misfortunes had impaired +my reason. In two hours the boat, which went laden with vessels of +water, returned, with the captain’s command to fetch me on board. I +fell on my knees to preserve my liberty; but all was in vain; and the +men, having tied me with cords, heaved me into the boat, whence I was +taken into the ship, and thence into the captain’s cabin. + +His name was Pedro de Mendez; he was a very courteous and generous +person. He entreated me to give some account of myself, and desired to +know what I would eat or drink; said, “I should be used as well as +himself;” and spoke so many obliging things, that I wondered to find +such civilities from a _Yahoo_. However, I remained silent and sullen; +I was ready to faint at the very smell of him and his men. At last I +desired something to eat out of my own canoe; but he ordered me a +chicken, and some excellent wine, and then directed that I should be +put to bed in a very clean cabin. I would not undress myself, but lay +on the bed-clothes, and in half an hour stole out, when I thought the +crew was at dinner, and getting to the side of the ship, was going to +leap into the sea, and swim for my life, rather than continue among +_Yahoos_. But one of the seamen prevented me, and having informed the +captain, I was chained to my cabin. + +After dinner, Don Pedro came to me, and desired to know my reason for +so desperate an attempt; assured me, “he only meant to do me all the +service he was able;” and spoke so very movingly, that at last I +descended to treat him like an animal which had some little portion of +reason. I gave him a very short relation of my voyage; of the +conspiracy against me by my own men; of the country where they set me +on shore, and of my five years residence there. All which he looked +upon as if it were a dream or a vision; whereat I took great offence; +for I had quite forgot the faculty of lying, so peculiar to _Yahoos_, +in all countries where they preside, and, consequently, their +disposition of suspecting truth in others of their own species. I asked +him, “whether it were the custom in his country to say the thing which +was not?” I assured him, “I had almost forgot what he meant by +falsehood, and if I had lived a thousand years in _Houyhnhnmland_, I +should never have heard a lie from the meanest servant; that I was +altogether indifferent whether he believed me or not; but, however, in +return for his favours, I would give so much allowance to the +corruption of his nature, as to answer any objection he would please to +make, and then he might easily discover the truth.” + +The captain, a wise man, after many endeavours to catch me tripping in +some part of my story, at last began to have a better opinion of my +veracity. But he added, “that since I professed so inviolable an +attachment to truth, I must give him my word and honour to bear him +company in this voyage, without attempting any thing against my life; +or else he would continue me a prisoner till we arrived at Lisbon.” I +gave him the promise he required; but at the same time protested, “that +I would suffer the greatest hardships, rather than return to live among +_Yahoos_.” + +Our voyage passed without any considerable accident. In gratitude to +the captain, I sometimes sat with him, at his earnest request, and +strove to conceal my antipathy against humankind, although it often +broke out; which he suffered to pass without observation. But the +greatest part of the day I confined myself to my cabin, to avoid seeing +any of the crew. The captain had often entreated me to strip myself of +my savage dress, and offered to lend me the best suit of clothes he +had. This I would not be prevailed on to accept, abhorring to cover +myself with any thing that had been on the back of a _Yahoo_. I only +desired he would lend me two clean shirts, which, having been washed +since he wore them, I believed would not so much defile me. These I +changed every second day, and washed them myself. + +We arrived at Lisbon, Nov. 5, 1715. At our landing, the captain forced +me to cover myself with his cloak, to prevent the rabble from crowding +about me. I was conveyed to his own house; and at my earnest request he +led me up to the highest room backwards. I conjured him “to conceal +from all persons what I had told him of the _Houyhnhnms_; because the +least hint of such a story would not only draw numbers of people to see +me, but probably put me in danger of being imprisoned, or burnt by the +Inquisition.” The captain persuaded me to accept a suit of clothes +newly made; but I would not suffer the tailor to take my measure; +however, Don Pedro being almost of my size, they fitted me well enough. +He accoutred me with other necessaries, all new, which I aired for +twenty-four hours before I would use them. + +The captain had no wife, nor above three servants, none of which were +suffered to attend at meals; and his whole deportment was so obliging, +added to very good human understanding, that I really began to tolerate +his company. He gained so far upon me, that I ventured to look out of +the back window. By degrees I was brought into another room, whence I +peeped into the street, but drew my head back in a fright. In a week’s +time he seduced me down to the door. I found my terror gradually +lessened, but my hatred and contempt seemed to increase. I was at last +bold enough to walk the street in his company, but kept my nose well +stopped with rue, or sometimes with tobacco. + +In ten days, Don Pedro, to whom I had given some account of my domestic +affairs, put it upon me, as a matter of honour and conscience, “that I +ought to return to my native country, and live at home with my wife and +children.” He told me, “there was an English ship in the port just +ready to sail, and he would furnish me with all things necessary.” It +would be tedious to repeat his arguments, and my contradictions. He +said, “it was altogether impossible to find such a solitary island as I +desired to live in; but I might command in my own house, and pass my +time in a manner as recluse as I pleased.” + +I complied at last, finding I could not do better. I left Lisbon the +24th day of November, in an English merchantman, but who was the master +I never inquired. Don Pedro accompanied me to the ship, and lent me +twenty pounds. He took kind leave of me, and embraced me at parting, +which I bore as well as I could. During this last voyage I had no +commerce with the master or any of his men; but, pretending I was sick, +kept close in my cabin. On the fifth of December, 1715, we cast anchor +in the Downs, about nine in the morning, and at three in the afternoon +I got safe to my house at Rotherhith. [546] + +My wife and family received me with great surprise and joy, because +they concluded me certainly dead; but I must freely confess the sight +of them filled me only with hatred, disgust, and contempt; and the +more, by reflecting on the near alliance I had to them. For although, +since my unfortunate exile from the _Houyhnhnm_ country, I had +compelled myself to tolerate the sight of _Yahoos_, and to converse +with Don Pedro de Mendez, yet my memory and imagination were +perpetually filled with the virtues and ideas of those exalted +_Houyhnhnms_. And when I began to consider that, by copulating with one +of the _Yahoo_ species I had become a parent of more, it struck me with +the utmost shame, confusion, and horror. + +As soon as I entered the house, my wife took me in her arms, and kissed +me; at which, having not been used to the touch of that odious animal +for so many years, I fell into a swoon for almost an hour. At the time +I am writing, it is five years since my last return to England. During +the first year, I could not endure my wife or children in my presence; +the very smell of them was intolerable; much less could I suffer them +to eat in the same room. To this hour they dare not presume to touch my +bread, or drink out of the same cup, neither was I ever able to let one +of them take me by the hand. The first money I laid out was to buy two +young stone-horses, which I keep in a good stable; and next to them, +the groom is my greatest favourite, for I feel my spirits revived by +the smell he contracts in the stable. My horses understand me tolerably +well; I converse with them at least four hours every day. They are +strangers to bridle or saddle; they live in great amity with me and +friendship to each other. + + +CHAPTER XII. + +The author’s veracity. His design in publishing this work. His censure +of those travellers who swerve from the truth. The author clears +himself from any sinister ends in writing. An objection answered. The +method of planting colonies. His native country commended. The right of +the crown to those countries described by the author is justified. The +difficulty of conquering them. The author takes his last leave of the +reader; proposes his manner of living for the future; gives good +advice, and concludes. + + +Thus, gentle reader, I have given thee a faithful history of my travels +for sixteen years and above seven months: wherein I have not been so +studious of ornament as of truth. I could, perhaps, like others, have +astonished thee with strange improbable tales; but I rather chose to +relate plain matter of fact, in the simplest manner and style; because +my principal design was to inform, and not to amuse thee. + +It is easy for us who travel into remote countries, which are seldom +visited by Englishmen or other Europeans, to form descriptions of +wonderful animals both at sea and land. Whereas a traveller’s chief aim +should be to make men wiser and better, and to improve their minds by +the bad, as well as good, example of what they deliver concerning +foreign places. + +I could heartily wish a law was enacted, that every traveller, before +he were permitted to publish his voyages, should be obliged to make +oath before the Lord High Chancellor, that all he intended to print was +absolutely true to the best of his knowledge; for then the world would +no longer be deceived, as it usually is, while some writers, to make +their works pass the better upon the public, impose the grossest +falsities on the unwary reader. I have perused several books of travels +with great delight in my younger days; but having since gone over most +parts of the globe, and been able to contradict many fabulous accounts +from my own observation, it has given me a great disgust against this +part of reading, and some indignation to see the credulity of mankind +so impudently abused. Therefore, since my acquaintance were pleased to +think my poor endeavours might not be unacceptable to my country, I +imposed on myself, as a maxim never to be swerved from, that I would +strictly adhere to truth; neither indeed can I be ever under the least +temptation to vary from it, while I retain in my mind the lectures and +example of my noble master and the other illustrious _Houyhnhnms_ of +whom I had so long the honour to be an humble hearer. + + +_—Nec si miserum Fortuna Sinonem_ + +_Finxit_, _vanum etiam_, _mendacemque improba finget_. + +I know very well, how little reputation is to be got by writings which +require neither genius nor learning, nor indeed any other talent, +except a good memory, or an exact journal. I know likewise, that +writers of travels, like dictionary-makers, are sunk into oblivion by +the weight and bulk of those who come last, and therefore lie +uppermost. And it is highly probable, that such travellers, who shall +hereafter visit the countries described in this work of mine, may, by +detecting my errors (if there be any), and adding many new discoveries +of their own, jostle me out of vogue, and stand in my place, making the +world forget that ever I was an author. This indeed would be too great +a mortification, if I wrote for fame: but as my sole intention was the +public good, I cannot be altogether disappointed. For who can read of +the virtues I have mentioned in the glorious _Houyhnhnms_, without +being ashamed of his own vices, when he considers himself as the +reasoning, governing animal of his country? I shall say nothing of +those remote nations where _Yahoos_ preside; among which the least +corrupted are the _Brobdingnagians_; whose wise maxims in morality and +government it would be our happiness to observe. But I forbear +descanting further, and rather leave the judicious reader to his own +remarks and application. + +I am not a little pleased that this work of mine can possibly meet with +no censurers: for what objections can be made against a writer, who +relates only plain facts, that happened in such distant countries, +where we have not the least interest, with respect either to trade or +negotiations? I have carefully avoided every fault with which common +writers of travels are often too justly charged. Besides, I meddle not +the least with any party, but write without passion, prejudice, or +ill-will against any man, or number of men, whatsoever. I write for the +noblest end, to inform and instruct mankind; over whom I may, without +breach of modesty, pretend to some superiority, from the advantages I +received by conversing so long among the most accomplished +_Houyhnhnms_. I write without any view to profit or praise. I never +suffer a word to pass that may look like reflection, or possibly give +the least offence, even to those who are most ready to take it. So that +I hope I may with justice pronounce myself an author perfectly +blameless; against whom the tribes of Answerers, Considerers, +Observers, Reflectors, Detectors, Remarkers, will never be able to find +matter for exercising their talents. + +I confess, it was whispered to me, “that I was bound in duty, as a +subject of England, to have given in a memorial to a secretary of state +at my first coming over; because, whatever lands are discovered by a +subject belong to the crown.” But I doubt whether our conquests in the +countries I treat of would be as easy as those of Ferdinando Cortez +over the naked Americans. The _Lilliputians_, I think, are hardly worth +the charge of a fleet and army to reduce them; and I question whether +it might be prudent or safe to attempt the _Brobdingnagians_; or +whether an English army would be much at their ease with the Flying +Island over their heads. The _Houyhnhnms_ indeed appear not to be so +well prepared for war, a science to which they are perfect strangers, +and especially against missive weapons. However, supposing myself to be +a minister of state, I could never give my advice for invading them. +Their prudence, unanimity, unacquaintedness with fear, and their love +of their country, would amply supply all defects in the military art. +Imagine twenty thousand of them breaking into the midst of an European +army, confounding the ranks, overturning the carriages, battering the +warriors’ faces into mummy by terrible yerks from their hinder hoofs. +For they would well deserve the character given to Augustus, +_Recalcitrat undique tutus_. But, instead of proposals for conquering +that magnanimous nation, I rather wish they were in a capacity, or +disposition, to send a sufficient number of their inhabitants for +civilizing Europe, by teaching us the first principles of honour, +justice, truth, temperance, public spirit, fortitude, chastity, +friendship, benevolence, and fidelity. The names of all which virtues +are still retained among us in most languages, and are to be met with +in modern, as well as ancient authors; which I am able to assert from +my own small reading. + +But I had another reason, which made me less forward to enlarge his +majesty’s dominions by my discoveries. To say the truth, I had +conceived a few scruples with relation to the distributive justice of +princes upon those occasions. For instance, a crew of pirates are +driven by a storm they know not whither; at length a boy discovers land +from the topmast; they go on shore to rob and plunder, they see a +harmless people, are entertained with kindness; they give the country a +new name; they take formal possession of it for their king; they set up +a rotten plank, or a stone, for a memorial; they murder two or three +dozen of the natives, bring away a couple more, by force, for a sample; +return home, and get their pardon. Here commences a new dominion +acquired with a title by divine right. Ships are sent with the first +opportunity; the natives driven out or destroyed; their princes +tortured to discover their gold; a free license given to all acts of +inhumanity and lust, the earth reeking with the blood of its +inhabitants: and this execrable crew of butchers, employed in so pious +an expedition, is a modern colony, sent to convert and civilize an +idolatrous and barbarous people! + +But this description, I confess, does by no means affect the British +nation, who may be an example to the whole world for their wisdom, +care, and justice in planting colonies; their liberal endowments for +the advancement of religion and learning; their choice of devout and +able pastors to propagate Christianity; their caution in stocking their +provinces with people of sober lives and conversations from this the +mother kingdom; their strict regard to the distribution of justice, in +supplying the civil administration through all their colonies with +officers of the greatest abilities, utter strangers to corruption; and, +to crown all, by sending the most vigilant and virtuous governors, who +have no other views than the happiness of the people over whom they +preside, and the honour of the king their master. + +But as those countries which I have described do not appear to have any +desire of being conquered and enslaved, murdered or driven out by +colonies, nor abound either in gold, silver, sugar, or tobacco, I did +humbly conceive, they were by no means proper objects of our zeal, our +valour, or our interest. However, if those whom it more concerns think +fit to be of another opinion, I am ready to depose, when I shall be +lawfully called, that no European did ever visit those countries before +me. I mean, if the inhabitants ought to be believed, unless a dispute +may arise concerning the two _Yahoos_, said to have been seen many +years ago upon a mountain in _Houyhnhnmland_, from whence the opinion +is, that the race of those brutes hath descended; and these, for +anything I know, may have been English, which indeed I was apt to +suspect from the lineaments of their posterity’s countenances, although +very much defaced. But, how far that will go to make out a title, I +leave to the learned in colony-law. + +But, as to the formality of taking possession in my sovereign’s name, +it never came once into my thoughts; and if it had, yet, as my affairs +then stood, I should perhaps, in point of prudence and +self-preservation, have put it off to a better opportunity. + +Having thus answered the only objection that can ever be raised against +me as a traveller, I here take a final leave of all my courteous +readers, and return to enjoy my own speculations in my little garden at +Redriff; to apply those excellent lessons of virtue which I learned +among the _Houyhnhnms_; to instruct the _Yahoos_ of my own family, as +far as I shall find them docible animals; to behold my figure often in +a glass, and thus, if possible, habituate myself by time to tolerate +the sight of a human creature; to lament the brutality to _Houyhnhnms_ +in my own country, but always treat their persons with respect, for the +sake of my noble master, his family, his friends, and the whole +_Houyhnhnm_ race, whom these of ours have the honour to resemble in all +their lineaments, however their intellectuals came to degenerate. + +I began last week to permit my wife to sit at dinner with me, at the +farthest end of a long table; and to answer (but with the utmost +brevity) the few questions I asked her. Yet, the smell of a _Yahoo_ +continuing very offensive, I always keep my nose well stopped with rue, +lavender, or tobacco leaves. And, although it be hard for a man late in +life to remove old habits, I am not altogether out of hopes, in some +time, to suffer a neighbour _Yahoo_ in my company, without the +apprehensions I am yet under of his teeth or his claws. + +My reconcilement to the _Yahoo_-kind in general might not be so +difficult, if they would be content with those vices and follies only +which nature has entitled them to. I am not in the least provoked at +the sight of a lawyer, a pickpocket, a colonel, a fool, a lord, a +gamester, a politician, a whoremonger, a physician, an evidence, a +suborner, an attorney, a traitor, or the like; this is all according to +the due course of things: but when I behold a lump of deformity and +diseases, both in body and mind, smitten with pride, it immediately +breaks all the measures of my patience; neither shall I be ever able to +comprehend how such an animal, and such a vice, could tally together. +The wise and virtuous _Houyhnhnms_, who abound in all excellences that +can adorn a rational creature, have no name for this vice in their +language, which has no terms to express any thing that is evil, except +those whereby they describe the detestable qualities of their _Yahoos_, +among which they were not able to distinguish this of pride, for want +of thoroughly understanding human nature, as it shows itself in other +countries where that animal presides. But I, who had more experience, +could plainly observe some rudiments of it among the wild _Yahoos_. + + +But the _Houyhnhnms_, who live under the government of reason, are no +more proud of the good qualities they possess, than I should be for not +wanting a leg or an arm; which no man in his wits would boast of, +although he must be miserable without them. I dwell the longer upon +this subject from the desire I have to make the society of an English +_Yahoo_ by any means not insupportable; and therefore I here entreat +those who have any tincture of this absurd vice, that they will not +presume to come in my sight. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[301] A stang is a pole or perch; sixteen feet and a half. + +[330] An act of parliament has been since passed by which some breaches +of trust have been made capital. + +[454a] Britannia.—_Sir W. Scott_. + +[454b] London.—_Sir W. Scott_. + +[455] This is the revised text adopted by Dr. Hawksworth (1766). The +above paragraph in the original editions (1726) takes another form, +commencing:—“I told him that should I happen to live in a kingdom where +lots were in vogue,” &c. The names Tribnia and Langden are not +mentioned, and the “close stool” and its signification do not occur. + +[514] This paragraph is not in the original editions. + +[546] The original editions and Hawksworth’s have Rotherhith here, +though earlier in the work, Redriff is said to have been Gulliver’s +home in England. diff --git a/search-engine/books/Romeo and Juliet.txt b/search-engine/books/Romeo and Juliet.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d3a5ee --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Romeo and Juliet.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5270 @@ +Title: Romeo and Juliet +Author: William Shakespeare + +THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET + +by William Shakespeare + + + + +Contents + +THE PROLOGUE. + +ACT I +Scene I. A public place. +Scene II. A Street. +Scene III. Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene IV. A Street. +Scene V. A Hall in Capulet’s House. + +ACT II +CHORUS. +Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden. +Scene II. Capulet’s Garden. +Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene IV. A Street. +Scene V. Capulet’s Garden. +Scene VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + +ACT III +Scene I. A public Place. +Scene II. A Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s cell. +Scene IV. A Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene V. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden. + +ACT IV +Scene I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene II. Hall in Capulet’s House. +Scene III. Juliet’s Chamber. +Scene IV. Hall in Capulet’s House. +Scene V. Juliet’s Chamber; Juliet on the bed. + +ACT V +Scene I. Mantua. A Street. +Scene II. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. + + + + + Dramatis Personæ + +ESCALUS, Prince of Verona. +MERCUTIO, kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo. +PARIS, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince. +Page to Paris. + +MONTAGUE, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Capulets. +LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague. +ROMEO, son to Montague. +BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. +ABRAM, servant to Montague. +BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo. + +CAPULET, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Montagues. +LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet. +JULIET, daughter to Capulet. +TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet. +CAPULET’S COUSIN, an old man. +NURSE to Juliet. +PETER, servant to Juliet’s Nurse. +SAMPSON, servant to Capulet. +GREGORY, servant to Capulet. +Servants. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE, a Franciscan. +FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order. +An Apothecary. +CHORUS. +Three Musicians. +An Officer. +Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; +Maskers, Guards, Watchmen and Attendants. + +SCENE. During the greater part of the Play in Verona; once, in the +Fifth Act, at Mantua. + + + + +THE PROLOGUE + + + Enter Chorus. + +CHORUS. +Two households, both alike in dignity, +In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, +From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, +Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. +From forth the fatal loins of these two foes +A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; +Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows +Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. +The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love, +And the continuance of their parents’ rage, +Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove, +Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage; +The which, if you with patient ears attend, +What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. + + [_Exit._] + + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I. A public place. + + + Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers. + +SAMPSON. +Gregory, on my word, we’ll not carry coals. + +GREGORY. +No, for then we should be colliers. + +SAMPSON. +I mean, if we be in choler, we’ll draw. + +GREGORY. +Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar. + +SAMPSON. +I strike quickly, being moved. + +GREGORY. +But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + +SAMPSON. +A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + +GREGORY. +To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou +art moved, thou runn’st away. + +SAMPSON. +A dog of that house shall move me to stand. +I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s. + +GREGORY. +That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall. + +SAMPSON. +True, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to +the wall: therefore I will push Montague’s men from the wall, and +thrust his maids to the wall. + +GREGORY. +The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + +SAMPSON. +’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the +men I will be civil with the maids, I will cut off their heads. + +GREGORY. +The heads of the maids? + +SAMPSON. +Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense +thou wilt. + +GREGORY. +They must take it in sense that feel it. + +SAMPSON. +Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and ’tis known I am a +pretty piece of flesh. + +GREGORY. +’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. +Draw thy tool; here comes of the house of Montagues. + + Enter Abram and Balthasar. + +SAMPSON. +My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. + +GREGORY. +How? Turn thy back and run? + +SAMPSON. +Fear me not. + +GREGORY. +No, marry; I fear thee! + +SAMPSON. +Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + +GREGORY. +I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. + +SAMPSON. +Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is disgrace to +them if they bear it. + +ABRAM. +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON. +I do bite my thumb, sir. + +ABRAM. +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON. +Is the law of our side if I say ay? + +GREGORY. +No. + +SAMPSON. +No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. + +GREGORY. +Do you quarrel, sir? + +ABRAM. +Quarrel, sir? No, sir. + +SAMPSON. +But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you. + +ABRAM. +No better. + +SAMPSON. +Well, sir. + + Enter Benvolio. + +GREGORY. +Say better; here comes one of my master’s kinsmen. + +SAMPSON. +Yes, better, sir. + +ABRAM. +You lie. + +SAMPSON. +Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow. + + [_They fight._] + +BENVOLIO. +Part, fools! put up your swords, you know not what you do. + + [_Beats down their swords._] + + Enter Tybalt. + +TYBALT. +What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? +Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death. + +BENVOLIO. +I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword, +Or manage it to part these men with me. + +TYBALT. +What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word +As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: +Have at thee, coward. + + [_They fight._] + + Enter three or four Citizens with clubs. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Clubs, bills and partisans! Strike! Beat them down! +Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! + + Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet. + +CAPULET. +What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + +LADY CAPULET. +A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? + +CAPULET. +My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, +And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + + Enter Montague and his Lady Montague. + +MONTAGUE. +Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go. + +LADY MONTAGUE. +Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. + + Enter Prince Escalus, with Attendants. + +PRINCE. +Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, +Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— +Will they not hear? What, ho! You men, you beasts, +That quench the fire of your pernicious rage +With purple fountains issuing from your veins, +On pain of torture, from those bloody hands +Throw your mistemper’d weapons to the ground +And hear the sentence of your moved prince. +Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, +By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, +Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, +And made Verona’s ancient citizens +Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, +To wield old partisans, in hands as old, +Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d hate. +If ever you disturb our streets again, +Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. +For this time all the rest depart away: +You, Capulet, shall go along with me, +And Montague, come you this afternoon, +To know our farther pleasure in this case, +To old Free-town, our common judgement-place. +Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + + [_Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, + Citizens and Servants._] + +MONTAGUE. +Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? +Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + +BENVOLIO. +Here were the servants of your adversary +And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. +I drew to part them, in the instant came +The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar’d, +Which, as he breath’d defiance to my ears, +He swung about his head, and cut the winds, +Who nothing hurt withal, hiss’d him in scorn. +While we were interchanging thrusts and blows +Came more and more, and fought on part and part, +Till the Prince came, who parted either part. + +LADY MONTAGUE. +O where is Romeo, saw you him today? +Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + +BENVOLIO. +Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun +Peer’d forth the golden window of the east, +A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad, +Where underneath the grove of sycamore +That westward rooteth from this city side, +So early walking did I see your son. +Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, +And stole into the covert of the wood. +I, measuring his affections by my own, +Which then most sought where most might not be found, +Being one too many by my weary self, +Pursu’d my humour, not pursuing his, +And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me. + +MONTAGUE. +Many a morning hath he there been seen, +With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew, +Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; +But all so soon as the all-cheering sun +Should in the farthest east begin to draw +The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed, +Away from light steals home my heavy son, +And private in his chamber pens himself, +Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out +And makes himself an artificial night. +Black and portentous must this humour prove, +Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + +BENVOLIO. +My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + +MONTAGUE. +I neither know it nor can learn of him. + +BENVOLIO. +Have you importun’d him by any means? + +MONTAGUE. +Both by myself and many other friends; +But he, his own affections’ counsellor, +Is to himself—I will not say how true— +But to himself so secret and so close, +So far from sounding and discovery, +As is the bud bit with an envious worm +Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, +Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. +Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, +We would as willingly give cure as know. + + Enter Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +See, where he comes. So please you step aside; +I’ll know his grievance or be much denied. + +MONTAGUE. +I would thou wert so happy by thy stay +To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away, + + [_Exeunt Montague and Lady Montague._] + +BENVOLIO. +Good morrow, cousin. + +ROMEO. +Is the day so young? + +BENVOLIO. +But new struck nine. + +ROMEO. +Ay me, sad hours seem long. +Was that my father that went hence so fast? + +BENVOLIO. +It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours? + +ROMEO. +Not having that which, having, makes them short. + +BENVOLIO. +In love? + +ROMEO. +Out. + +BENVOLIO. +Of love? + +ROMEO. +Out of her favour where I am in love. + +BENVOLIO. +Alas that love so gentle in his view, +Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof. + +ROMEO. +Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, +Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! +Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? +Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. +Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love: +Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! +O anything, of nothing first create! +O heavy lightness! serious vanity! +Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! +Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! +Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! +This love feel I, that feel no love in this. +Dost thou not laugh? + +BENVOLIO. +No coz, I rather weep. + +ROMEO. +Good heart, at what? + +BENVOLIO. +At thy good heart’s oppression. + +ROMEO. +Why such is love’s transgression. +Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, +Which thou wilt propagate to have it prest +With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown +Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. +Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; +Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; +Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears: +What is it else? A madness most discreet, +A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. +Farewell, my coz. + + [_Going._] + +BENVOLIO. +Soft! I will go along: +And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + +ROMEO. +Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here. +This is not Romeo, he’s some other where. + +BENVOLIO. +Tell me in sadness who is that you love? + +ROMEO. +What, shall I groan and tell thee? + +BENVOLIO. +Groan! Why, no; but sadly tell me who. + +ROMEO. +Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, +A word ill urg’d to one that is so ill. +In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + +BENVOLIO. +I aim’d so near when I suppos’d you lov’d. + +ROMEO. +A right good markman, and she’s fair I love. + +BENVOLIO. +A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + +ROMEO. +Well, in that hit you miss: she’ll not be hit +With Cupid’s arrow, she hath Dian’s wit; +And in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, +From love’s weak childish bow she lives uncharm’d. +She will not stay the siege of loving terms +Nor bide th’encounter of assailing eyes, +Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: +O she’s rich in beauty, only poor +That when she dies, with beauty dies her store. + +BENVOLIO. +Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + +ROMEO. +She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; +For beauty starv’d with her severity, +Cuts beauty off from all posterity. +She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, +To merit bliss by making me despair. +She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow +Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. + +BENVOLIO. +Be rul’d by me, forget to think of her. + +ROMEO. +O teach me how I should forget to think. + +BENVOLIO. +By giving liberty unto thine eyes; +Examine other beauties. + +ROMEO. +’Tis the way +To call hers, exquisite, in question more. +These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows, +Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair; +He that is strucken blind cannot forget +The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. +Show me a mistress that is passing fair, +What doth her beauty serve but as a note +Where I may read who pass’d that passing fair? +Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget. + +BENVOLIO. +I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. A Street. + + Enter Capulet, Paris and Servant. + +CAPULET. +But Montague is bound as well as I, +In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think, +For men so old as we to keep the peace. + +PARIS. +Of honourable reckoning are you both, +And pity ’tis you liv’d at odds so long. +But now my lord, what say you to my suit? + +CAPULET. +But saying o’er what I have said before. +My child is yet a stranger in the world, +She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; +Let two more summers wither in their pride +Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + +PARIS. +Younger than she are happy mothers made. + +CAPULET. +And too soon marr’d are those so early made. +The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, +She is the hopeful lady of my earth: +But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, +My will to her consent is but a part; +And she agree, within her scope of choice +Lies my consent and fair according voice. +This night I hold an old accustom’d feast, +Whereto I have invited many a guest, +Such as I love, and you among the store, +One more, most welcome, makes my number more. +At my poor house look to behold this night +Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: +Such comfort as do lusty young men feel +When well apparell’d April on the heel +Of limping winter treads, even such delight +Among fresh female buds shall you this night +Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, +And like her most whose merit most shall be: +Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, +May stand in number, though in reckoning none. +Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about +Through fair Verona; find those persons out +Whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_] and to them say, +My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. + + [_Exeunt Capulet and Paris._] + +SERVANT. +Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that the +shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the +fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to +find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what +names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good +time! + + Enter Benvolio and Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning, +One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; +Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; +One desperate grief cures with another’s languish: +Take thou some new infection to thy eye, +And the rank poison of the old will die. + +ROMEO. +Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. + +BENVOLIO. +For what, I pray thee? + +ROMEO. +For your broken shin. + +BENVOLIO. +Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + +ROMEO. +Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: +Shut up in prison, kept without my food, +Whipp’d and tormented and—God-den, good fellow. + +SERVANT. +God gi’ go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + +ROMEO. +Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + +SERVANT. +Perhaps you have learned it without book. +But I pray, can you read anything you see? + +ROMEO. +Ay, If I know the letters and the language. + +SERVANT. +Ye say honestly, rest you merry! + +ROMEO. +Stay, fellow; I can read. + + [_He reads the letter._] + +_Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; +County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; +The lady widow of Utruvio; +Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; +Mercutio and his brother Valentine; +Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; +My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; +Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; +Lucio and the lively Helena. _ + + +A fair assembly. [_Gives back the paper_] Whither should they come? + +SERVANT. +Up. + +ROMEO. +Whither to supper? + +SERVANT. +To our house. + +ROMEO. +Whose house? + +SERVANT. +My master’s. + +ROMEO. +Indeed I should have ask’d you that before. + +SERVANT. +Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, +and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a +cup of wine. Rest you merry. + + [_Exit._] + +BENVOLIO. +At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s +Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov’st; +With all the admired beauties of Verona. +Go thither and with unattainted eye, +Compare her face with some that I shall show, +And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + +ROMEO. +When the devout religion of mine eye +Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; +And these who, often drown’d, could never die, +Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars. +One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun +Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun. + +BENVOLIO. +Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, +Herself pois’d with herself in either eye: +But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’d +Your lady’s love against some other maid +That I will show you shining at this feast, +And she shall scant show well that now shows best. + +ROMEO. +I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown, +But to rejoice in splendour of my own. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. + +LADY CAPULET. +Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me. + +NURSE. +Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, +I bade her come. What, lamb! What ladybird! +God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet! + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +How now, who calls? + +NURSE. +Your mother. + +JULIET. +Madam, I am here. What is your will? + +LADY CAPULET. +This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile, +We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again, +I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel. +Thou knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age. + +NURSE. +Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + +LADY CAPULET. +She’s not fourteen. + +NURSE. +I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth, +And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, +She is not fourteen. How long is it now +To Lammas-tide? + +LADY CAPULET. +A fortnight and odd days. + +NURSE. +Even or odd, of all days in the year, +Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. +Susan and she,—God rest all Christian souls!— +Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; +She was too good for me. But as I said, +On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; +That shall she, marry; I remember it well. +’Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; +And she was wean’d,—I never shall forget it—, +Of all the days of the year, upon that day: +For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, +Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall; +My lord and you were then at Mantua: +Nay, I do bear a brain. But as I said, +When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple +Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, +To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug! +Shake, quoth the dovehouse: ’twas no need, I trow, +To bid me trudge. +And since that time it is eleven years; +For then she could stand alone; nay, by th’rood +She could have run and waddled all about; +For even the day before she broke her brow, +And then my husband,—God be with his soul! +A was a merry man,—took up the child: +‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘dost thou fall upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; +Wilt thou not, Jule?’ and, by my holidame, +The pretty wretch left crying, and said ‘Ay’. +To see now how a jest shall come about. +I warrant, and I should live a thousand years, +I never should forget it. ‘Wilt thou not, Jule?’ quoth he; +And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said ‘Ay.’ + +LADY CAPULET. +Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace. + +NURSE. +Yes, madam, yet I cannot choose but laugh, +To think it should leave crying, and say ‘Ay’; +And yet I warrant it had upon it brow +A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone; +A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. +‘Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall’st upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; +Wilt thou not, Jule?’ it stinted, and said ‘Ay’. + +JULIET. +And stint thou too, I pray thee, Nurse, say I. + +NURSE. +Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace +Thou wast the prettiest babe that e’er I nurs’d: +And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. + +LADY CAPULET. +Marry, that marry is the very theme +I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, +How stands your disposition to be married? + +JULIET. +It is an honour that I dream not of. + +NURSE. +An honour! Were not I thine only nurse, +I would say thou hadst suck’d wisdom from thy teat. + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, think of marriage now: younger than you, +Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, +Are made already mothers. By my count +I was your mother much upon these years +That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; +The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + +NURSE. +A man, young lady! Lady, such a man +As all the world—why he’s a man of wax. + +LADY CAPULET. +Verona’s summer hath not such a flower. + +NURSE. +Nay, he’s a flower, in faith a very flower. + +LADY CAPULET. +What say you, can you love the gentleman? +This night you shall behold him at our feast; +Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ face, +And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen. +Examine every married lineament, +And see how one another lends content; +And what obscur’d in this fair volume lies, +Find written in the margent of his eyes. +This precious book of love, this unbound lover, +To beautify him, only lacks a cover: +The fish lives in the sea; and ’tis much pride +For fair without the fair within to hide. +That book in many’s eyes doth share the glory, +That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; +So shall you share all that he doth possess, +By having him, making yourself no less. + +NURSE. +No less, nay bigger. Women grow by men. + +LADY CAPULET. +Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love? + +JULIET. +I’ll look to like, if looking liking move: +But no more deep will I endart mine eye +Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + + Enter a Servant. + +SERVANT. +Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady +asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. +I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. + +LADY CAPULET. +We follow thee. + + [_Exit Servant._] + +Juliet, the County stays. + +NURSE. +Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Street. + + Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers; + Torch-bearers and others. + +ROMEO. +What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? +Or shall we on without apology? + +BENVOLIO. +The date is out of such prolixity: +We’ll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a scarf, +Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, +Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; +Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke +After the prompter, for our entrance: +But let them measure us by what they will, +We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone. + +ROMEO. +Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling; +Being but heavy I will bear the light. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + +ROMEO. +Not I, believe me, you have dancing shoes, +With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead +So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + +MERCUTIO. +You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings, +And soar with them above a common bound. + +ROMEO. +I am too sore enpierced with his shaft +To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, +I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. +Under love’s heavy burden do I sink. + +MERCUTIO. +And, to sink in it, should you burden love; +Too great oppression for a tender thing. + +ROMEO. +Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, +Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn. + +MERCUTIO. +If love be rough with you, be rough with love; +Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. +Give me a case to put my visage in: [_Putting on a mask._] +A visor for a visor. What care I +What curious eye doth quote deformities? +Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. + +BENVOLIO. +Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in +But every man betake him to his legs. + +ROMEO. +A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, +Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; +For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, +I’ll be a candle-holder and look on, +The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done. + +MERCUTIO. +Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word: +If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire +Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest +Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho. + +ROMEO. +Nay, that’s not so. + +MERCUTIO. +I mean sir, in delay +We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day. +Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits +Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + +ROMEO. +And we mean well in going to this mask; +But ’tis no wit to go. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, may one ask? + +ROMEO. +I dreamt a dream tonight. + +MERCUTIO. +And so did I. + +ROMEO. +Well what was yours? + +MERCUTIO. +That dreamers often lie. + +ROMEO. +In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + +MERCUTIO. +O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. +She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes +In shape no bigger than an agate-stone +On the fore-finger of an alderman, +Drawn with a team of little atomies +Over men’s noses as they lie asleep: +Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs; +The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; +Her traces, of the smallest spider’s web; +The collars, of the moonshine’s watery beams; +Her whip of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film; +Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, +Not half so big as a round little worm +Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid: +Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, +Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, +Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. +And in this state she gallops night by night +Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; +O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; +O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees; +O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, +Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, +Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: +Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, +And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; +And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail, +Tickling a parson’s nose as a lies asleep, +Then dreams he of another benefice: +Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, +And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, +Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades, +Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon +Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; +And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, +And sleeps again. This is that very Mab +That plats the manes of horses in the night; +And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, +Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: +This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, +That presses them, and learns them first to bear, +Making them women of good carriage: +This is she,— + +ROMEO. +Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, +Thou talk’st of nothing. + +MERCUTIO. +True, I talk of dreams, +Which are the children of an idle brain, +Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, +Which is as thin of substance as the air, +And more inconstant than the wind, who woos +Even now the frozen bosom of the north, +And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, +Turning his side to the dew-dropping south. + +BENVOLIO. +This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves: +Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + +ROMEO. +I fear too early: for my mind misgives +Some consequence yet hanging in the stars, +Shall bitterly begin his fearful date +With this night’s revels; and expire the term +Of a despised life, clos’d in my breast +By some vile forfeit of untimely death. +But he that hath the steerage of my course +Direct my suit. On, lusty gentlemen! + +BENVOLIO. +Strike, drum. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. + +FIRST SERVANT. +Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? +He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher! + +SECOND SERVANT. +When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they +unwash’d too, ’tis a foul thing. + +FIRST SERVANT. +Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the +plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and as thou loves me, +let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan! + +SECOND SERVANT. +Ay, boy, ready. + +FIRST SERVANT. +You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the +great chamber. + +SECOND SERVANT. +We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys. Be brisk awhile, and +the longer liver take all. + + [_Exeunt._] + + Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. + +CAPULET. +Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes +Unplagu’d with corns will have a bout with you. +Ah my mistresses, which of you all +Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, +She I’ll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? +Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day +That I have worn a visor, and could tell +A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear, +Such as would please; ’tis gone, ’tis gone, ’tis gone, +You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. +A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls. + + [_Music plays, and they dance._] + +More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, +And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. +Ah sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. +Nay sit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet, +For you and I are past our dancing days; +How long is’t now since last yourself and I +Were in a mask? + +CAPULET’S COUSIN. +By’r Lady, thirty years. + +CAPULET. +What, man, ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much: +’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, +Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, +Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d. + +CAPULET’S COUSIN. +’Tis more, ’tis more, his son is elder, sir; +His son is thirty. + +CAPULET. +Will you tell me that? +His son was but a ward two years ago. + +ROMEO. +What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand +Of yonder knight? + +SERVANT. +I know not, sir. + +ROMEO. +O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! +It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night +As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; +Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! +So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows +As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. +The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, +And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. +Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! +For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. + +TYBALT. +This by his voice, should be a Montague. +Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave +Come hither, cover’d with an antic face, +To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? +Now by the stock and honour of my kin, +To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. + +CAPULET. +Why how now, kinsman! +Wherefore storm you so? + +TYBALT. +Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; +A villain that is hither come in spite, +To scorn at our solemnity this night. + +CAPULET. +Young Romeo, is it? + +TYBALT. +’Tis he, that villain Romeo. + +CAPULET. +Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, +A bears him like a portly gentleman; +And, to say truth, Verona brags of him +To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth. +I would not for the wealth of all the town +Here in my house do him disparagement. +Therefore be patient, take no note of him, +It is my will; the which if thou respect, +Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, +An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + +TYBALT. +It fits when such a villain is a guest: +I’ll not endure him. + +CAPULET. +He shall be endur’d. +What, goodman boy! I say he shall, go to; +Am I the master here, or you? Go to. +You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, +You’ll make a mutiny among my guests! +You will set cock-a-hoop, you’ll be the man! + +TYBALT. +Why, uncle, ’tis a shame. + +CAPULET. +Go to, go to! +You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed? +This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. +You must contrary me! Marry, ’tis time. +Well said, my hearts!—You are a princox; go: +Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame! +I’ll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts. + +TYBALT. +Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting +Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. +I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, +Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +[_To Juliet._] If I profane with my unworthiest hand +This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, +My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand +To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. + +JULIET. +Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, +Which mannerly devotion shows in this; +For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, +And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. + +ROMEO. +Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + +JULIET. +Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. + +ROMEO. +O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: +They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + +JULIET. +Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. + +ROMEO. +Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. +Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d. +[_Kissing her._] + +JULIET. +Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + +ROMEO. +Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d! +Give me my sin again. + +JULIET. +You kiss by the book. + +NURSE. +Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + +ROMEO. +What is her mother? + +NURSE. +Marry, bachelor, +Her mother is the lady of the house, +And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. +I nurs’d her daughter that you talk’d withal. +I tell you, he that can lay hold of her +Shall have the chinks. + +ROMEO. +Is she a Capulet? +O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt. + +BENVOLIO. +Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. + +ROMEO. +Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + +CAPULET. +Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone, +We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. +Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you all; +I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. +More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed. +Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late, +I’ll to my rest. + + [_Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse._] + +JULIET. +Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman? + +NURSE. +The son and heir of old Tiberio. + +JULIET. +What’s he that now is going out of door? + +NURSE. +Marry, that I think be young Petruchio. + +JULIET. +What’s he that follows here, that would not dance? + +NURSE. +I know not. + +JULIET. +Go ask his name. If he be married, +My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + +NURSE. +His name is Romeo, and a Montague, +The only son of your great enemy. + +JULIET. +My only love sprung from my only hate! +Too early seen unknown, and known too late! +Prodigious birth of love it is to me, +That I must love a loathed enemy. + +NURSE. +What’s this? What’s this? + +JULIET. +A rhyme I learn’d even now +Of one I danc’d withal. + + [_One calls within, ‘Juliet’._] + +NURSE. +Anon, anon! +Come let’s away, the strangers all are gone. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT II + + + Enter Chorus. + +CHORUS. +Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, +And young affection gapes to be his heir; +That fair for which love groan’d for and would die, +With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair. +Now Romeo is belov’d, and loves again, +Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; +But to his foe suppos’d he must complain, +And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks: +Being held a foe, he may not have access +To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; +And she as much in love, her means much less +To meet her new beloved anywhere. +But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, +Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Can I go forward when my heart is here? +Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + + [_He climbs the wall and leaps down within it._] + + Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! + +MERCUTIO. +He is wise, +And on my life hath stol’n him home to bed. + +BENVOLIO. +He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall: +Call, good Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, I’ll conjure too. +Romeo! Humours! Madman! Passion! Lover! +Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, +Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; +Cry but ‘Ah me!’ Pronounce but Love and dove; +Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, +One nickname for her purblind son and heir, +Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim +When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid. +He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; +The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. +I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, +By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, +By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, +And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, +That in thy likeness thou appear to us. + +BENVOLIO. +An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + +MERCUTIO. +This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him +To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle, +Of some strange nature, letting it there stand +Till she had laid it, and conjur’d it down; +That were some spite. My invocation +Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress’ name, +I conjure only but to raise up him. + +BENVOLIO. +Come, he hath hid himself among these trees +To be consorted with the humorous night. +Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. + +MERCUTIO. +If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. +Now will he sit under a medlar tree, +And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit +As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. +O Romeo, that she were, O that she were +An open-arse and thou a poperin pear! +Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed. +This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. +Come, shall we go? + +BENVOLIO. +Go then; for ’tis in vain +To seek him here that means not to be found. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +He jests at scars that never felt a wound. + + Juliet appears above at a window. + +But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? +It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! +Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon, +Who is already sick and pale with grief, +That thou her maid art far more fair than she. +Be not her maid since she is envious; +Her vestal livery is but sick and green, +And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. +It is my lady, O it is my love! +O, that she knew she were! +She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? +Her eye discourses, I will answer it. +I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks. +Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, +Having some business, do entreat her eyes +To twinkle in their spheres till they return. +What if her eyes were there, they in her head? +The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, +As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven +Would through the airy region stream so bright +That birds would sing and think it were not night. +See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. +O that I were a glove upon that hand, +That I might touch that cheek. + +JULIET. +Ay me. + +ROMEO. +She speaks. +O speak again bright angel, for thou art +As glorious to this night, being o’er my head, +As is a winged messenger of heaven +Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes +Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him +When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds +And sails upon the bosom of the air. + +JULIET. +O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? +Deny thy father and refuse thy name. +Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, +And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. + +ROMEO. +[_Aside._] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? + +JULIET. +’Tis but thy name that is my enemy; +Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. +What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, +Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part +Belonging to a man. O be some other name. +What’s in a name? That which we call a rose +By any other name would smell as sweet; +So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, +Retain that dear perfection which he owes +Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, +And for thy name, which is no part of thee, +Take all myself. + +ROMEO. +I take thee at thy word. +Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptis’d; +Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + +JULIET. +What man art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night +So stumblest on my counsel? + +ROMEO. +By a name +I know not how to tell thee who I am: +My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, +Because it is an enemy to thee. +Had I it written, I would tear the word. + +JULIET. +My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words +Of thy tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound. +Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? + +ROMEO. +Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. + +JULIET. +How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? +The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, +And the place death, considering who thou art, +If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + +ROMEO. +With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, +For stony limits cannot hold love out, +And what love can do, that dares love attempt: +Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. + +JULIET. +If they do see thee, they will murder thee. + +ROMEO. +Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye +Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, +And I am proof against their enmity. + +JULIET. +I would not for the world they saw thee here. + +ROMEO. +I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes, +And but thou love me, let them find me here. +My life were better ended by their hate +Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + +JULIET. +By whose direction found’st thou out this place? + +ROMEO. +By love, that first did prompt me to enquire; +He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. +I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far +As that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, +I should adventure for such merchandise. + +JULIET. +Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, +Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek +For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. +Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny +What I have spoke; but farewell compliment. +Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say Ay, +And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear’st, +Thou mayst prove false. At lovers’ perjuries, +They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, +If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. +Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, +I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, +So thou wilt woo. But else, not for the world. +In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; +And therefore thou mayst think my ’haviour light: +But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true +Than those that have more cunning to be strange. +I should have been more strange, I must confess, +But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ’ware, +My true-love passion; therefore pardon me, +And not impute this yielding to light love, +Which the dark night hath so discovered. + +ROMEO. +Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, +That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,— + +JULIET. +O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon, +That monthly changes in her circled orb, +Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + +ROMEO. +What shall I swear by? + +JULIET. +Do not swear at all. +Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, +Which is the god of my idolatry, +And I’ll believe thee. + +ROMEO. +If my heart’s dear love,— + +JULIET. +Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, +I have no joy of this contract tonight; +It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden, +Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be +Ere one can say “It lightens.” Sweet, good night. +This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, +May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. +Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest +Come to thy heart as that within my breast. + +ROMEO. +O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + +JULIET. +What satisfaction canst thou have tonight? + +ROMEO. +Th’exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine. + +JULIET. +I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; +And yet I would it were to give again. + +ROMEO. +Would’st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? + +JULIET. +But to be frank and give it thee again. +And yet I wish but for the thing I have; +My bounty is as boundless as the sea, +My love as deep; the more I give to thee, +The more I have, for both are infinite. +I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. +[_Nurse calls within._] +Anon, good Nurse!—Sweet Montague be true. +Stay but a little, I will come again. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +O blessed, blessed night. I am afeard, +Being in night, all this is but a dream, +Too flattering sweet to be substantial. + + Enter Juliet above. + +JULIET. +Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. +If that thy bent of love be honourable, +Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, +By one that I’ll procure to come to thee, +Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite, +And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay +And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Madam. + +JULIET. +I come, anon.— But if thou meanest not well, +I do beseech thee,— + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Madam. + +JULIET. +By and by I come— +To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief. +Tomorrow will I send. + +ROMEO. +So thrive my soul,— + +JULIET. +A thousand times good night. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. +Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, +But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. + + [_Retiring slowly._] + + Re-enter Juliet, above. + +JULIET. +Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer’s voice +To lure this tassel-gentle back again. +Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud, +Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, +And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine +With repetition of my Romeo’s name. + +ROMEO. +It is my soul that calls upon my name. +How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, +Like softest music to attending ears. + +JULIET. +Romeo. + +ROMEO. +My nyas? + +JULIET. +What o’clock tomorrow +Shall I send to thee? + +ROMEO. +By the hour of nine. + +JULIET. +I will not fail. ’Tis twenty years till then. +I have forgot why I did call thee back. + +ROMEO. +Let me stand here till thou remember it. + +JULIET. +I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, +Remembering how I love thy company. + +ROMEO. +And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget, +Forgetting any other home but this. + +JULIET. +’Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone, +And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird, +That lets it hop a little from her hand, +Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, +And with a silk thread plucks it back again, +So loving-jealous of his liberty. + +ROMEO. +I would I were thy bird. + +JULIET. +Sweet, so would I: +Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. +Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow +That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. +Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest. +Hence will I to my ghostly Sire’s cell, +His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +The grey-ey’d morn smiles on the frowning night, +Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; +And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels +From forth day’s pathway, made by Titan’s fiery wheels +Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, +The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry, +I must upfill this osier cage of ours +With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. +The earth that’s nature’s mother, is her tomb; +What is her burying grave, that is her womb: +And from her womb children of divers kind +We sucking on her natural bosom find. +Many for many virtues excellent, +None but for some, and yet all different. +O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies +In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities. +For naught so vile that on the earth doth live +But to the earth some special good doth give; +Nor aught so good but, strain’d from that fair use, +Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. +Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied, +And vice sometime’s by action dignified. + + Enter Romeo. + +Within the infant rind of this weak flower +Poison hath residence, and medicine power: +For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; +Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. +Two such opposed kings encamp them still +In man as well as herbs,—grace and rude will; +And where the worser is predominant, +Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + +ROMEO. +Good morrow, father. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Benedicite! +What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? +Young son, it argues a distemper’d head +So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. +Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, +And where care lodges sleep will never lie; +But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain +Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. +Therefore thy earliness doth me assure +Thou art uprous’d with some distemperature; +Or if not so, then here I hit it right, +Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight. + +ROMEO. +That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +God pardon sin. Wast thou with Rosaline? + +ROMEO. +With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. +I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +That’s my good son. But where hast thou been then? + +ROMEO. +I’ll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. +I have been feasting with mine enemy, +Where on a sudden one hath wounded me +That’s by me wounded. Both our remedies +Within thy help and holy physic lies. +I bear no hatred, blessed man; for lo, +My intercession likewise steads my foe. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; +Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + +ROMEO. +Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set +On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. +As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; +And all combin’d, save what thou must combine +By holy marriage. When, and where, and how +We met, we woo’d, and made exchange of vow, +I’ll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, +That thou consent to marry us today. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! +Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, +So soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies +Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. +Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine +Hath wash’d thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! +How much salt water thrown away in waste, +To season love, that of it doth not taste. +The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, +Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears. +Lo here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit +Of an old tear that is not wash’d off yet. +If ere thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, +Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline, +And art thou chang’d? Pronounce this sentence then, +Women may fall, when there’s no strength in men. + +ROMEO. +Thou chidd’st me oft for loving Rosaline. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + +ROMEO. +And bad’st me bury love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Not in a grave +To lay one in, another out to have. + +ROMEO. +I pray thee chide me not, her I love now +Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. +The other did not so. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O, she knew well +Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. +But come young waverer, come go with me, +In one respect I’ll thy assistant be; +For this alliance may so happy prove, +To turn your households’ rancour to pure love. + +ROMEO. +O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Street. + + Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO. +Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight? + +BENVOLIO. +Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so +that he will sure run mad. + +BENVOLIO. +Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father’s +house. + +MERCUTIO. +A challenge, on my life. + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo will answer it. + +MERCUTIO. +Any man that can write may answer a letter. + +BENVOLIO. +Nay, he will answer the letter’s master, how he dares, being dared. + +MERCUTIO. +Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wench’s black +eye; run through the ear with a love song, the very pin of his heart +cleft with the blind bow-boy’s butt-shaft. And is he a man to encounter +Tybalt? + +BENVOLIO. +Why, what is Tybalt? + +MERCUTIO. +More than Prince of cats. O, he’s the courageous captain of +compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, +and proportion. He rests his minim rest, one, two, and the third in +your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; +a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, +the immortal passado, the punto reverso, the hay. + +BENVOLIO. +The what? + +MERCUTIO. +The pox of such antic lisping, affecting phantasies; these new tuners +of accent. By Jesu, a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good +whore. Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should +be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, +these pardon-me’s, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot +sit at ease on the old bench? O their bones, their bones! + + Enter Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo! + +MERCUTIO. +Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou +fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura, to +his lady, was but a kitchen wench,—marry, she had a better love to +berhyme her: Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings +and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior +Romeo, bonjour! There’s a French salutation to your French slop. You +gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. + +ROMEO. +Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + +MERCUTIO. +The slip sir, the slip; can you not conceive? + +ROMEO. +Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as +mine a man may strain courtesy. + +MERCUTIO. +That’s as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow +in the hams. + +ROMEO. +Meaning, to curtsy. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou hast most kindly hit it. + +ROMEO. +A most courteous exposition. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + +ROMEO. +Pink for flower. + +MERCUTIO. +Right. + +ROMEO. +Why, then is my pump well flowered. + +MERCUTIO. +Sure wit, follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump, +that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the +wearing, solely singular. + +ROMEO. +O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness! + +MERCUTIO. +Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. + +ROMEO. +Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I’ll cry a match. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done. For thou hast +more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than I am sure, I have in my +whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? + +ROMEO. +Thou wast never with me for anything, when thou wast not there for the +goose. + +MERCUTIO. +I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + +ROMEO. +Nay, good goose, bite not. + +MERCUTIO. +Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting, it is a most sharp sauce. + +ROMEO. +And is it not then well served in to a sweet goose? + +MERCUTIO. +O here’s a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an +ell broad. + +ROMEO. +I stretch it out for that word broad, which added to the goose, proves +thee far and wide a broad goose. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou +sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as +well as by nature. For this drivelling love is like a great natural, +that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. + +BENVOLIO. +Stop there, stop there. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + +BENVOLIO. +Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + +MERCUTIO. +O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short, for I was come to the +whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no +longer. + + Enter Nurse and Peter. + +ROMEO. +Here’s goodly gear! +A sail, a sail! + +MERCUTIO. +Two, two; a shirt and a smock. + +NURSE. +Peter! + +PETER. +Anon. + +NURSE. +My fan, Peter. + +MERCUTIO. +Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face. + +NURSE. +God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + +MERCUTIO. +God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. + +NURSE. +Is it good-den? + +MERCUTIO. +’Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the +prick of noon. + +NURSE. +Out upon you! What a man are you? + +ROMEO. +One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. + +NURSE. +By my troth, it is well said; for himself to mar, quoth a? Gentlemen, +can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? + +ROMEO. +I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have found him +than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name, for +fault of a worse. + +NURSE. +You say well. + +MERCUTIO. +Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i’faith; wisely, wisely. + +NURSE. +If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. + +BENVOLIO. +She will endite him to some supper. + +MERCUTIO. +A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! + +ROMEO. +What hast thou found? + +MERCUTIO. +No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something +stale and hoar ere it be spent. +[_Sings._] + An old hare hoar, + And an old hare hoar, + Is very good meat in Lent; + But a hare that is hoar + Is too much for a score + When it hoars ere it be spent. +Romeo, will you come to your father’s? We’ll to dinner thither. + +ROMEO. +I will follow you. + +MERCUTIO. +Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady. + + [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._] + +NURSE. +I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his +ropery? + +ROMEO. +A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak +more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. + +NURSE. +And a speak anything against me, I’ll take him down, and a were lustier +than he is, and twenty such Jacks. And if I cannot, I’ll find those +that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of +his skains-mates.—And thou must stand by too and suffer every knave to +use me at his pleasure! + +PETER. +I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should +quickly have been out. I warrant you, I dare draw as soon as another +man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. + +NURSE. +Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy +knave. Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bid me +enquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself. But first +let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in a fool’s paradise, as they +say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the +gentlewoman is young. And therefore, if you should deal double with +her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and +very weak dealing. + +ROMEO. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto +thee,— + +NURSE. +Good heart, and i’faith I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord, she will +be a joyful woman. + +ROMEO. +What wilt thou tell her, Nurse? Thou dost not mark me. + +NURSE. +I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a +gentlemanlike offer. + +ROMEO. +Bid her devise +Some means to come to shrift this afternoon, +And there she shall at Friar Lawrence’ cell +Be shriv’d and married. Here is for thy pains. + +NURSE. +No truly, sir; not a penny. + +ROMEO. +Go to; I say you shall. + +NURSE. +This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. + +ROMEO. +And stay, good Nurse, behind the abbey wall. +Within this hour my man shall be with thee, +And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, +Which to the high topgallant of my joy +Must be my convoy in the secret night. +Farewell, be trusty, and I’ll quit thy pains; +Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. + +NURSE. +Now God in heaven bless thee. Hark you, sir. + +ROMEO. +What say’st thou, my dear Nurse? + +NURSE. +Is your man secret? Did you ne’er hear say, +Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + +ROMEO. +I warrant thee my man’s as true as steel. + +NURSE. +Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! When ’twas a +little prating thing,—O, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that +would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a +toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that +Paris is the properer man, but I’ll warrant you, when I say so, she +looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and +Romeo begin both with a letter? + +ROMEO. +Ay, Nurse; what of that? Both with an R. + +NURSE. +Ah, mocker! That’s the dog’s name. R is for the—no, I know it begins +with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, +of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. + +ROMEO. +Commend me to thy lady. + +NURSE. +Ay, a thousand times. Peter! + + [_Exit Romeo._] + +PETER. +Anon. + +NURSE. +Before and apace. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse, +In half an hour she promised to return. +Perchance she cannot meet him. That’s not so. +O, she is lame. Love’s heralds should be thoughts, +Which ten times faster glides than the sun’s beams, +Driving back shadows over lowering hills: +Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love, +And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. +Now is the sun upon the highmost hill +Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve +Is three long hours, yet she is not come. +Had she affections and warm youthful blood, +She’d be as swift in motion as a ball; +My words would bandy her to my sweet love, +And his to me. +But old folks, many feign as they were dead; +Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. + + Enter Nurse and Peter. + +O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news? +Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + +NURSE. +Peter, stay at the gate. + + [_Exit Peter._] + +JULIET. +Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad? +Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; +If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news +By playing it to me with so sour a face. + +NURSE. +I am aweary, give me leave awhile; +Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! + +JULIET. +I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: +Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak. + +NURSE. +Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am +out of breath? + +JULIET. +How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath +To say to me that thou art out of breath? +The excuse that thou dost make in this delay +Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. +Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that; +Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance. +Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad? + +NURSE. +Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man. +Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man’s, yet his +leg excels all men’s, and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though +they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the +flower of courtesy, but I’ll warrant him as gentle as a lamb. Go thy +ways, wench, serve God. What, have you dined at home? + +JULIET. +No, no. But all this did I know before. +What says he of our marriage? What of that? + +NURSE. +Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! +It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. +My back o’ t’other side,—O my back, my back! +Beshrew your heart for sending me about +To catch my death with jauncing up and down. + +JULIET. +I’faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. +Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love? + +NURSE. +Your love says like an honest gentleman, +And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, +And I warrant a virtuous,—Where is your mother? + +JULIET. +Where is my mother? Why, she is within. +Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest. +‘Your love says, like an honest gentleman, +‘Where is your mother?’ + +NURSE. +O God’s lady dear, +Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow. +Is this the poultice for my aching bones? +Henceforward do your messages yourself. + +JULIET. +Here’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo? + +NURSE. +Have you got leave to go to shrift today? + +JULIET. +I have. + +NURSE. +Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’ cell; +There stays a husband to make you a wife. +Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, +They’ll be in scarlet straight at any news. +Hie you to church. I must another way, +To fetch a ladder by the which your love +Must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark. +I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; +But you shall bear the burden soon at night. +Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to the cell. + +JULIET. +Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +So smile the heavens upon this holy act +That after-hours with sorrow chide us not. + +ROMEO. +Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, +It cannot countervail the exchange of joy +That one short minute gives me in her sight. +Do thou but close our hands with holy words, +Then love-devouring death do what he dare, +It is enough I may but call her mine. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +These violent delights have violent ends, +And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, +Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey +Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, +And in the taste confounds the appetite. +Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; +Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. + + Enter Juliet. + +Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot +Will ne’er wear out the everlasting flint. +A lover may bestride the gossamers +That idles in the wanton summer air +And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + +JULIET. +Good even to my ghostly confessor. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + +JULIET. +As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + +ROMEO. +Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy +Be heap’d like mine, and that thy skill be more +To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath +This neighbour air, and let rich music’s tongue +Unfold the imagin’d happiness that both +Receive in either by this dear encounter. + +JULIET. +Conceit more rich in matter than in words, +Brags of his substance, not of ornament. +They are but beggars that can count their worth; +But my true love is grown to such excess, +I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Come, come with me, and we will make short work, +For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone +Till holy church incorporate two in one. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I. A public Place. + + + Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page and Servants. + +BENVOLIO. +I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire: +The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, +And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, +For now these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of +a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says ‘God send me no +need of thee!’ and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the +drawer, when indeed there is no need. + +BENVOLIO. +Am I like such a fellow? + +MERCUTIO. +Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as +soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. + +BENVOLIO. +And what to? + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would +kill the other. Thou? Why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a +hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel +with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou +hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? +Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy +head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast +quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath +wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall +out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with +another for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt +tutor me from quarrelling! + +BENVOLIO. +And I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee +simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + +MERCUTIO. +The fee simple! O simple! + + Enter Tybalt and others. + +BENVOLIO. +By my head, here comes the Capulets. + +MERCUTIO. +By my heel, I care not. + +TYBALT. +Follow me close, for I will speak to them. +Gentlemen, good-den: a word with one of you. + +MERCUTIO. +And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a +word and a blow. + +TYBALT. +You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will give me +occasion. + +MERCUTIO. +Could you not take some occasion without giving? + +TYBALT. +Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. + +MERCUTIO. +Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? And thou make minstrels of +us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick, here’s +that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort! + +BENVOLIO. +We talk here in the public haunt of men. +Either withdraw unto some private place, +And reason coldly of your grievances, +Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. + +MERCUTIO. +Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. +I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I. + + Enter Romeo. + +TYBALT. +Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man. + +MERCUTIO. +But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery. +Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower; +Your worship in that sense may call him man. + +TYBALT. +Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford +No better term than this: Thou art a villain. + +ROMEO. +Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee +Doth much excuse the appertaining rage +To such a greeting. Villain am I none; +Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not. + +TYBALT. +Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries +That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw. + +ROMEO. +I do protest I never injur’d thee, +But love thee better than thou canst devise +Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. +And so good Capulet, which name I tender +As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. + +MERCUTIO. +O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! +[_Draws._] Alla stoccata carries it away. +Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? + +TYBALT. +What wouldst thou have with me? + +MERCUTIO. +Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to +make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest +of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? +Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. + +TYBALT. +[_Drawing._] I am for you. + +ROMEO. +Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + +MERCUTIO. +Come, sir, your passado. + + [_They fight._] + +ROMEO. +Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. +Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage, +Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath +Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. +Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! + + [_Exeunt Tybalt with his Partizans._] + +MERCUTIO. +I am hurt. +A plague o’ both your houses. I am sped. +Is he gone, and hath nothing? + +BENVOLIO. +What, art thou hurt? + +MERCUTIO. +Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis enough. +Where is my page? Go villain, fetch a surgeon. + + [_Exit Page._] + +ROMEO. +Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. + +MERCUTIO. +No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ’tis +enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a +grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’ both +your houses. Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to +death. A braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of +arithmetic!—Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your +arm. + +ROMEO. +I thought all for the best. + +MERCUTIO. +Help me into some house, Benvolio, +Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses. +They have made worms’ meat of me. +I have it, and soundly too. Your houses! + + [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._] + +ROMEO. +This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally, +My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt +In my behalf; my reputation stain’d +With Tybalt’s slander,—Tybalt, that an hour +Hath been my cousin. O sweet Juliet, +Thy beauty hath made me effeminate +And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel. + + Re-enter Benvolio. + +BENVOLIO. +O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, +That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, +Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + +ROMEO. +This day’s black fate on mo days doth depend; +This but begins the woe others must end. + + Re-enter Tybalt. + +BENVOLIO. +Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + +ROMEO. +Again in triumph, and Mercutio slain? +Away to heaven respective lenity, +And fire-ey’d fury be my conduct now! +Now, Tybalt, take the ‘villain’ back again +That late thou gav’st me, for Mercutio’s soul +Is but a little way above our heads, +Staying for thine to keep him company. +Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. + +TYBALT. +Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, +Shalt with him hence. + +ROMEO. +This shall determine that. + + [_They fight; Tybalt falls._] + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo, away, be gone! +The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. +Stand not amaz’d. The Prince will doom thee death +If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! + +ROMEO. +O, I am fortune’s fool! + +BENVOLIO. +Why dost thou stay? + + [_Exit Romeo._] + + Enter Citizens. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Which way ran he that kill’d Mercutio? +Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? + +BENVOLIO. +There lies that Tybalt. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Up, sir, go with me. +I charge thee in the Prince’s name obey. + + Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their Wives and others. + +PRINCE. +Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + +BENVOLIO. +O noble Prince, I can discover all +The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. +There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, +That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + +LADY CAPULET. +Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother’s child! +O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spill’d +Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, +For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. +O cousin, cousin. + +PRINCE. +Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + +BENVOLIO. +Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay; +Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink +How nice the quarrel was, and urg’d withal +Your high displeasure. All this uttered +With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow’d +Could not take truce with the unruly spleen +Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts +With piercing steel at bold Mercutio’s breast, +Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, +And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats +Cold death aside, and with the other sends +It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity +Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud, +‘Hold, friends! Friends, part!’ and swifter than his tongue, +His agile arm beats down their fatal points, +And ’twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm +An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life +Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. +But by and by comes back to Romeo, +Who had but newly entertain’d revenge, +And to’t they go like lightning; for, ere I +Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain; +And as he fell did Romeo turn and fly. +This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + +LADY CAPULET. +He is a kinsman to the Montague. +Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. +Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, +And all those twenty could but kill one life. +I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give; +Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. + +PRINCE. +Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio. +Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + +MONTAGUE. +Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio’s friend; +His fault concludes but what the law should end, +The life of Tybalt. + +PRINCE. +And for that offence +Immediately we do exile him hence. +I have an interest in your hate’s proceeding, +My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding. +But I’ll amerce you with so strong a fine +That you shall all repent the loss of mine. +I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; +Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. +Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, +Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. +Bear hence this body, and attend our will. +Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. A Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, +Towards Phoebus’ lodging. Such a waggoner +As Phaeton would whip you to the west +And bring in cloudy night immediately. +Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, +That runaway’s eyes may wink, and Romeo +Leap to these arms, untalk’d of and unseen. +Lovers can see to do their amorous rites +By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, +It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, +Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, +And learn me how to lose a winning match, +Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods. +Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks, +With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, +Think true love acted simple modesty. +Come, night, come Romeo; come, thou day in night; +For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night +Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back. +Come gentle night, come loving black-brow’d night, +Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, +Take him and cut him out in little stars, +And he will make the face of heaven so fine +That all the world will be in love with night, +And pay no worship to the garish sun. +O, I have bought the mansion of a love, +But not possess’d it; and though I am sold, +Not yet enjoy’d. So tedious is this day +As is the night before some festival +To an impatient child that hath new robes +And may not wear them. O, here comes my Nurse, +And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks +But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence. + + Enter Nurse, with cords. + +Now, Nurse, what news? What hast thou there? +The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? + +NURSE. +Ay, ay, the cords. + + [_Throws them down._] + +JULIET. +Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? + +NURSE. +Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! +We are undone, lady, we are undone. +Alack the day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. + +JULIET. +Can heaven be so envious? + +NURSE. +Romeo can, +Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. +Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + +JULIET. +What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? +This torture should be roar’d in dismal hell. +Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but Ay, +And that bare vowel I shall poison more +Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. +I am not I if there be such an I; +Or those eyes shut that make thee answer Ay. +If he be slain, say Ay; or if not, No. +Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + +NURSE. +I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, +God save the mark!—here on his manly breast. +A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; +Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub’d in blood, +All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight. + +JULIET. +O, break, my heart. Poor bankrout, break at once. +To prison, eyes; ne’er look on liberty. +Vile earth to earth resign; end motion here, +And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier. + +NURSE. +O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had. +O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman! +That ever I should live to see thee dead. + +JULIET. +What storm is this that blows so contrary? +Is Romeo slaughter’d and is Tybalt dead? +My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? +Then dreadful trumpet sound the general doom, +For who is living, if those two are gone? + +NURSE. +Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, +Romeo that kill’d him, he is banished. + +JULIET. +O God! Did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood? + +NURSE. +It did, it did; alas the day, it did. + +JULIET. +O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! +Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? +Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical, +Dove-feather’d raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! +Despised substance of divinest show! +Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st, +A damned saint, an honourable villain! +O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell +When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend +In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? +Was ever book containing such vile matter +So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell +In such a gorgeous palace. + +NURSE. +There’s no trust, +No faith, no honesty in men. All perjur’d, +All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. +Ah, where’s my man? Give me some aqua vitae. +These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. +Shame come to Romeo. + +JULIET. +Blister’d be thy tongue +For such a wish! He was not born to shame. +Upon his brow shame is asham’d to sit; +For ’tis a throne where honour may be crown’d +Sole monarch of the universal earth. +O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + +NURSE. +Will you speak well of him that kill’d your cousin? + +JULIET. +Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? +Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, +When I thy three-hours’ wife have mangled it? +But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? +That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband. +Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring, +Your tributary drops belong to woe, +Which you mistaking offer up to joy. +My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, +And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband. +All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? +Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, +That murder’d me. I would forget it fain, +But O, it presses to my memory +Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds. +Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished. +That ‘banished,’ that one word ‘banished,’ +Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death +Was woe enough, if it had ended there. +Or if sour woe delights in fellowship, +And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, +Why follow’d not, when she said Tybalt’s dead, +Thy father or thy mother, nay or both, +Which modern lamentation might have mov’d? +But with a rear-ward following Tybalt’s death, +‘Romeo is banished’—to speak that word +Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, +All slain, all dead. Romeo is banished, +There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, +In that word’s death, no words can that woe sound. +Where is my father and my mother, Nurse? + +NURSE. +Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s corse. +Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + +JULIET. +Wash they his wounds with tears. Mine shall be spent, +When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment. +Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil’d, +Both you and I; for Romeo is exil’d. +He made you for a highway to my bed, +But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. +Come cords, come Nurse, I’ll to my wedding bed, +And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead. + +NURSE. +Hie to your chamber. I’ll find Romeo +To comfort you. I wot well where he is. +Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. +I’ll to him, he is hid at Lawrence’ cell. + +JULIET. +O find him, give this ring to my true knight, +And bid him come to take his last farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. +Affliction is enanmour’d of thy parts +And thou art wedded to calamity. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom? +What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, +That I yet know not? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Too familiar +Is my dear son with such sour company. +I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom. + +ROMEO. +What less than doomsday is the Prince’s doom? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +A gentler judgment vanish’d from his lips, +Not body’s death, but body’s banishment. + +ROMEO. +Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say death; +For exile hath more terror in his look, +Much more than death. Do not say banishment. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hence from Verona art thou banished. +Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + +ROMEO. +There is no world without Verona walls, +But purgatory, torture, hell itself. +Hence banished is banish’d from the world, +And world’s exile is death. Then banished +Is death misterm’d. Calling death banished, +Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe, +And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness! +Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince, +Taking thy part, hath brush’d aside the law, +And turn’d that black word death to banishment. +This is dear mercy, and thou see’st it not. + +ROMEO. +’Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here +Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog, +And little mouse, every unworthy thing, +Live here in heaven and may look on her, +But Romeo may not. More validity, +More honourable state, more courtship lives +In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize +On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand, +And steal immortal blessing from her lips, +Who, even in pure and vestal modesty +Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. +But Romeo may not, he is banished. +This may flies do, when I from this must fly. +They are free men but I am banished. +And say’st thou yet that exile is not death? +Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, +No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean, +But banished to kill me? Banished? +O Friar, the damned use that word in hell. +Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart, +Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, +A sin-absolver, and my friend profess’d, +To mangle me with that word banished? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little, + +ROMEO. +O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I’ll give thee armour to keep off that word, +Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy, +To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + +ROMEO. +Yet banished? Hang up philosophy. +Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, +Displant a town, reverse a Prince’s doom, +It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O, then I see that mad men have no ears. + +ROMEO. +How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + +ROMEO. +Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. +Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, +An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, +Doting like me, and like me banished, +Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, +And fall upon the ground as I do now, +Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + + [_Knocking within._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. + +ROMEO. +Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans +Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. + + [_Knocking._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hark, how they knock!—Who’s there?—Romeo, arise, +Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile.—Stand up. + + [_Knocking._] + +Run to my study.—By-and-by.—God’s will, +What simpleness is this.—I come, I come. + + [_Knocking._] + +Who knocks so hard? Whence come you, what’s your will? + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. +I come from Lady Juliet. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Welcome then. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar, +Where is my lady’s lord, where’s Romeo? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + +NURSE. +O, he is even in my mistress’ case. +Just in her case! O woeful sympathy! +Piteous predicament. Even so lies she, +Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. +Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man. +For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand. +Why should you fall into so deep an O? + +ROMEO. +Nurse. + +NURSE. +Ah sir, ah sir, death’s the end of all. + +ROMEO. +Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? +Doth not she think me an old murderer, +Now I have stain’d the childhood of our joy +With blood remov’d but little from her own? +Where is she? And how doth she? And what says +My conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love? + +NURSE. +O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; +And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, +And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, +And then down falls again. + +ROMEO. +As if that name, +Shot from the deadly level of a gun, +Did murder her, as that name’s cursed hand +Murder’d her kinsman. O, tell me, Friar, tell me, +In what vile part of this anatomy +Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack +The hateful mansion. + + [_Drawing his sword._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold thy desperate hand. +Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. +Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote +The unreasonable fury of a beast. +Unseemly woman in a seeming man, +And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! +Thou hast amaz’d me. By my holy order, +I thought thy disposition better temper’d. +Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? +And slay thy lady, that in thy life lives, +By doing damned hate upon thyself? +Why rail’st thou on thy birth, the heaven and earth? +Since birth, and heaven and earth, all three do meet +In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. +Fie, fie, thou sham’st thy shape, thy love, thy wit, +Which, like a usurer, abound’st in all, +And usest none in that true use indeed +Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. +Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, +Digressing from the valour of a man; +Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, +Killing that love which thou hast vow’d to cherish; +Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, +Misshapen in the conduct of them both, +Like powder in a skilless soldier’s flask, +Is set afire by thine own ignorance, +And thou dismember’d with thine own defence. +What, rouse thee, man. Thy Juliet is alive, +For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. +There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, +But thou slew’st Tybalt; there art thou happy. +The law that threaten’d death becomes thy friend, +And turns it to exile; there art thou happy. +A pack of blessings light upon thy back; +Happiness courts thee in her best array; +But like a misshaped and sullen wench, +Thou putt’st up thy Fortune and thy love. +Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. +Go, get thee to thy love as was decreed, +Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. +But look thou stay not till the watch be set, +For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; +Where thou shalt live till we can find a time +To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, +Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back +With twenty hundred thousand times more joy +Than thou went’st forth in lamentation. +Go before, Nurse. Commend me to thy lady, +And bid her hasten all the house to bed, +Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. +Romeo is coming. + +NURSE. +O Lord, I could have stay’d here all the night +To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! +My lord, I’ll tell my lady you will come. + +ROMEO. +Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + +NURSE. +Here sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir. +Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +How well my comfort is reviv’d by this. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Go hence, good night, and here stands all your state: +Either be gone before the watch be set, +Or by the break of day disguis’d from hence. +Sojourn in Mantua. I’ll find out your man, +And he shall signify from time to time +Every good hap to you that chances here. +Give me thy hand; ’tis late; farewell; good night. + +ROMEO. +But that a joy past joy calls out on me, +It were a grief so brief to part with thee. +Farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris. + +CAPULET. +Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily +That we have had no time to move our daughter. +Look you, she lov’d her kinsman Tybalt dearly, +And so did I. Well, we were born to die. +’Tis very late; she’ll not come down tonight. +I promise you, but for your company, +I would have been abed an hour ago. + +PARIS. +These times of woe afford no tune to woo. +Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. + +LADY CAPULET. +I will, and know her mind early tomorrow; +Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness. + +CAPULET. +Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender +Of my child’s love. I think she will be rul’d +In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. +Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, +Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love, +And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next, +But, soft, what day is this? + +PARIS. +Monday, my lord. + +CAPULET. +Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, +A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, tell her, +She shall be married to this noble earl. +Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? +We’ll keep no great ado,—a friend or two, +For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, +It may be thought we held him carelessly, +Being our kinsman, if we revel much. +Therefore we’ll have some half a dozen friends, +And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + +PARIS. +My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow. + +CAPULET. +Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. +Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, +Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. +Farewell, my lord.—Light to my chamber, ho! +Afore me, it is so very very late that we +May call it early by and by. Good night. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden. + + Enter Romeo and Juliet. + +JULIET. +Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. +It was the nightingale, and not the lark, +That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear; +Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. +Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + +ROMEO. +It was the lark, the herald of the morn, +No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks +Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. +Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day +Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. +I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + +JULIET. +Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I. +It is some meteor that the sun exhales +To be to thee this night a torchbearer +And light thee on thy way to Mantua. +Therefore stay yet, thou need’st not to be gone. + +ROMEO. +Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death, +I am content, so thou wilt have it so. +I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye, +’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow. +Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat +The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. +I have more care to stay than will to go. +Come, death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so. +How is’t, my soul? Let’s talk. It is not day. + +JULIET. +It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away. +It is the lark that sings so out of tune, +Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. +Some say the lark makes sweet division; +This doth not so, for she divideth us. +Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes. +O, now I would they had chang’d voices too, +Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, +Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day. +O now be gone, more light and light it grows. + +ROMEO. +More light and light, more dark and dark our woes. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +Madam. + +JULIET. +Nurse? + +NURSE. +Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. +The day is broke, be wary, look about. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + +ROMEO. +Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and I’ll descend. + + [_Descends._] + +JULIET. +Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend, +I must hear from thee every day in the hour, +For in a minute there are many days. +O, by this count I shall be much in years +Ere I again behold my Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Farewell! +I will omit no opportunity +That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + +JULIET. +O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? + +ROMEO. +I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve +For sweet discourses in our time to come. + +JULIET. +O God! I have an ill-divining soul! +Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, +As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. +Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale. + +ROMEO. +And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. +Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu. + + [_Exit below._] + +JULIET. +O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle, +If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him +That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, Fortune; +For then, I hope thou wilt not keep him long +But send him back. + +LADY CAPULET. +[_Within._] Ho, daughter, are you up? + +JULIET. +Who is’t that calls? Is it my lady mother? +Is she not down so late, or up so early? +What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither? + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +Why, how now, Juliet? + +JULIET. +Madam, I am not well. + +LADY CAPULET. +Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? +What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? +And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. +Therefore have done: some grief shows much of love, +But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + +JULIET. +Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + +LADY CAPULET. +So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend +Which you weep for. + +JULIET. +Feeling so the loss, +I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death +As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him. + +JULIET. +What villain, madam? + +LADY CAPULET. +That same villain Romeo. + +JULIET. +Villain and he be many miles asunder. +God pardon him. I do, with all my heart. +And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. + +LADY CAPULET. +That is because the traitor murderer lives. + +JULIET. +Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. +Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death. + +LADY CAPULET. +We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. +Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua, +Where that same banish’d runagate doth live, +Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram +That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: +And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. + +JULIET. +Indeed I never shall be satisfied +With Romeo till I behold him—dead— +Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex’d. +Madam, if you could find out but a man +To bear a poison, I would temper it, +That Romeo should upon receipt thereof, +Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors +To hear him nam’d, and cannot come to him, +To wreak the love I bore my cousin +Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him. + +LADY CAPULET. +Find thou the means, and I’ll find such a man. +But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + +JULIET. +And joy comes well in such a needy time. +What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; +One who to put thee from thy heaviness, +Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, +That thou expects not, nor I look’d not for. + +JULIET. +Madam, in happy time, what day is that? + +LADY CAPULET. +Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn +The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, +The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, +Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + +JULIET. +Now by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too, +He shall not make me there a joyful bride. +I wonder at this haste, that I must wed +Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. +I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, +I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear +It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, +Rather than Paris. These are news indeed. + +LADY CAPULET. +Here comes your father, tell him so yourself, +And see how he will take it at your hands. + + Enter Capulet and Nurse. + +CAPULET. +When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; +But for the sunset of my brother’s son +It rains downright. +How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears? +Evermore showering? In one little body +Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. +For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, +Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, +Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, thy sighs, +Who raging with thy tears and they with them, +Without a sudden calm will overset +Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? +Have you deliver’d to her our decree? + +LADY CAPULET. +Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. +I would the fool were married to her grave. + +CAPULET. +Soft. Take me with you, take me with you, wife. +How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? +Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, +Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought +So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + +JULIET. +Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. +Proud can I never be of what I hate; +But thankful even for hate that is meant love. + +CAPULET. +How now, how now, chopp’d logic? What is this? +Proud, and, I thank you, and I thank you not; +And yet not proud. Mistress minion you, +Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, +But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next +To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, +Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. +Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! +You tallow-face! + +LADY CAPULET. +Fie, fie! What, are you mad? + +JULIET. +Good father, I beseech you on my knees, +Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + +CAPULET. +Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch! +I tell thee what,—get thee to church a Thursday, +Or never after look me in the face. +Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. +My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest +That God had lent us but this only child; +But now I see this one is one too much, +And that we have a curse in having her. +Out on her, hilding. + +NURSE. +God in heaven bless her. +You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + +CAPULET. +And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue, +Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. + +NURSE. +I speak no treason. + +CAPULET. +O God ye good-en! + +NURSE. +May not one speak? + +CAPULET. +Peace, you mumbling fool! +Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl, +For here we need it not. + +LADY CAPULET. +You are too hot. + +CAPULET. +God’s bread, it makes me mad! +Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play, +Alone, in company, still my care hath been +To have her match’d, and having now provided +A gentleman of noble parentage, +Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied, +Stuff’d, as they say, with honourable parts, +Proportion’d as one’s thought would wish a man, +And then to have a wretched puling fool, +A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender, +To answer, ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love, +I am too young, I pray you pardon me.’ +But, and you will not wed, I’ll pardon you. +Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. +Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest. +Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. +And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; +And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, +For by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee, +Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. +Trust to’t, bethink you, I’ll not be forsworn. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, +That sees into the bottom of my grief? +O sweet my mother, cast me not away, +Delay this marriage for a month, a week, +Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed +In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + +LADY CAPULET. +Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word. +Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented? +My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven. +How shall that faith return again to earth, +Unless that husband send it me from heaven +By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me. +Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems +Upon so soft a subject as myself. +What say’st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? +Some comfort, Nurse. + +NURSE. +Faith, here it is. +Romeo is banished; and all the world to nothing +That he dares ne’er come back to challenge you. +Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. +Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, +I think it best you married with the County. +O, he’s a lovely gentleman. +Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, +Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye +As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, +I think you are happy in this second match, +For it excels your first: or if it did not, +Your first is dead, or ’twere as good he were, +As living here and you no use of him. + +JULIET. +Speakest thou from thy heart? + +NURSE. +And from my soul too, +Or else beshrew them both. + +JULIET. +Amen. + +NURSE. +What? + +JULIET. +Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. +Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, +Having displeas’d my father, to Lawrence’ cell, +To make confession and to be absolv’d. + +NURSE. +Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! +Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, +Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue +Which she hath prais’d him with above compare +So many thousand times? Go, counsellor. +Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. +I’ll to the Friar to know his remedy. +If all else fail, myself have power to die. + + [_Exit._] + + + + +ACT IV + +SCENE I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. + +PARIS. +My father Capulet will have it so; +And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +You say you do not know the lady’s mind. +Uneven is the course; I like it not. + +PARIS. +Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt’s death, +And therefore have I little talk’d of love; +For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. +Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous +That she do give her sorrow so much sway; +And in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, +To stop the inundation of her tears, +Which, too much minded by herself alone, +May be put from her by society. +Now do you know the reason of this haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +[_Aside._] I would I knew not why it should be slow’d.— +Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. + + Enter Juliet. + +PARIS. +Happily met, my lady and my wife! + +JULIET. +That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + +PARIS. +That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. + +JULIET. +What must be shall be. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +That’s a certain text. + +PARIS. +Come you to make confession to this father? + +JULIET. +To answer that, I should confess to you. + +PARIS. +Do not deny to him that you love me. + +JULIET. +I will confess to you that I love him. + +PARIS. +So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + +JULIET. +If I do so, it will be of more price, +Being spoke behind your back than to your face. + +PARIS. +Poor soul, thy face is much abus’d with tears. + +JULIET. +The tears have got small victory by that; +For it was bad enough before their spite. + +PARIS. +Thou wrong’st it more than tears with that report. + +JULIET. +That is no slander, sir, which is a truth, +And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + +PARIS. +Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander’d it. + +JULIET. +It may be so, for it is not mine own. +Are you at leisure, holy father, now, +Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.— +My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + +PARIS. +God shield I should disturb devotion!— +Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye, +Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +O shut the door, and when thou hast done so, +Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help! + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O Juliet, I already know thy grief; +It strains me past the compass of my wits. +I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, +On Thursday next be married to this County. + +JULIET. +Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear’st of this, +Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. +If in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, +Do thou but call my resolution wise, +And with this knife I’ll help it presently. +God join’d my heart and Romeo’s, thou our hands; +And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo’s seal’d, +Shall be the label to another deed, +Or my true heart with treacherous revolt +Turn to another, this shall slay them both. +Therefore, out of thy long-experienc’d time, +Give me some present counsel, or behold +’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife +Shall play the empire, arbitrating that +Which the commission of thy years and art +Could to no issue of true honour bring. +Be not so long to speak. I long to die, +If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, +Which craves as desperate an execution +As that is desperate which we would prevent. +If, rather than to marry County Paris +Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, +Then is it likely thou wilt undertake +A thing like death to chide away this shame, +That cop’st with death himself to scape from it. +And if thou dar’st, I’ll give thee remedy. + +JULIET. +O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, +From off the battlements of yonder tower, +Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk +Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears; +Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house, +O’er-cover’d quite with dead men’s rattling bones, +With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls. +Or bid me go into a new-made grave, +And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; +Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble, +And I will do it without fear or doubt, +To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent +To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow; +Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone, +Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. +Take thou this vial, being then in bed, +And this distilled liquor drink thou off, +When presently through all thy veins shall run +A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse +Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. +No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest, +The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade +To paly ashes; thy eyes’ windows fall, +Like death when he shuts up the day of life. +Each part depriv’d of supple government, +Shall stiff and stark and cold appear like death. +And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk death +Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, +And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. +Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes +To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. +Then as the manner of our country is, +In thy best robes, uncover’d, on the bier, +Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault +Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. +In the meantime, against thou shalt awake, +Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, +And hither shall he come, and he and I +Will watch thy waking, and that very night +Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. +And this shall free thee from this present shame, +If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear +Abate thy valour in the acting it. + +JULIET. +Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear! + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous +In this resolve. I’ll send a friar with speed +To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + +JULIET. +Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. +Farewell, dear father. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse and Servants. + +CAPULET. +So many guests invite as here are writ. + + [_Exit first Servant._] + +Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + +SECOND SERVANT. +You shall have none ill, sir; for I’ll try if they can lick their +fingers. + +CAPULET. +How canst thou try them so? + +SECOND SERVANT. +Marry, sir, ’tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers; +therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. + +CAPULET. +Go, begone. + + [_Exit second Servant._] + +We shall be much unfurnish’d for this time. +What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? + +NURSE. +Ay, forsooth. + +CAPULET. +Well, he may chance to do some good on her. +A peevish self-will’d harlotry it is. + + Enter Juliet. + +NURSE. +See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + +CAPULET. +How now, my headstrong. Where have you been gadding? + +JULIET. +Where I have learnt me to repent the sin +Of disobedient opposition +To you and your behests; and am enjoin’d +By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here, +To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you. +Henceforward I am ever rul’d by you. + +CAPULET. +Send for the County, go tell him of this. +I’ll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. + +JULIET. +I met the youthful lord at Lawrence’ cell, +And gave him what becomed love I might, +Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty. + +CAPULET. +Why, I am glad on’t. This is well. Stand up. +This is as’t should be. Let me see the County. +Ay, marry. Go, I say, and fetch him hither. +Now afore God, this reverend holy Friar, +All our whole city is much bound to him. + +JULIET. +Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, +To help me sort such needful ornaments +As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow? + +LADY CAPULET. +No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. + +CAPULET. +Go, Nurse, go with her. We’ll to church tomorrow. + + [_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._] + +LADY CAPULET. +We shall be short in our provision, +’Tis now near night. + +CAPULET. +Tush, I will stir about, +And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. +Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her. +I’ll not to bed tonight, let me alone. +I’ll play the housewife for this once.—What, ho!— +They are all forth: well, I will walk myself +To County Paris, to prepare him up +Against tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light +Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim’d. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Juliet’s Chamber. + + Enter Juliet and Nurse. + +JULIET. +Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle Nurse, +I pray thee leave me to myself tonight; +For I have need of many orisons +To move the heavens to smile upon my state, +Which, well thou know’st, is cross and full of sin. + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help? + +JULIET. +No, madam; we have cull’d such necessaries +As are behoveful for our state tomorrow. +So please you, let me now be left alone, +And let the nurse this night sit up with you, +For I am sure you have your hands full all +In this so sudden business. + +LADY CAPULET. +Good night. +Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. + + [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._] + +JULIET. +Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again. +I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins +That almost freezes up the heat of life. +I’ll call them back again to comfort me. +Nurse!—What should she do here? +My dismal scene I needs must act alone. +Come, vial. +What if this mixture do not work at all? +Shall I be married then tomorrow morning? +No, No! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. + + [_Laying down her dagger._] + +What if it be a poison, which the Friar +Subtly hath minister’d to have me dead, +Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour’d, +Because he married me before to Romeo? +I fear it is. And yet methinks it should not, +For he hath still been tried a holy man. +How if, when I am laid into the tomb, +I wake before the time that Romeo +Come to redeem me? There’s a fearful point! +Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, +To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, +And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? +Or, if I live, is it not very like, +The horrible conceit of death and night, +Together with the terror of the place, +As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, +Where for this many hundred years the bones +Of all my buried ancestors are pack’d, +Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, +Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, +At some hours in the night spirits resort— +Alack, alack, is it not like that I, +So early waking, what with loathsome smells, +And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, +That living mortals, hearing them, run mad. +O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, +Environed with all these hideous fears, +And madly play with my forefathers’ joints? +And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? +And, in this rage, with some great kinsman’s bone, +As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? +O look, methinks I see my cousin’s ghost +Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body +Upon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! +Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here’s drink! I drink to thee. + + [_Throws herself on the bed._] + +SCENE IV. Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. + +LADY CAPULET. +Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, Nurse. + +NURSE. +They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + + Enter Capulet. + +CAPULET. +Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow’d, +The curfew bell hath rung, ’tis three o’clock. +Look to the bak’d meats, good Angelica; +Spare not for cost. + +NURSE. +Go, you cot-quean, go, +Get you to bed; faith, you’ll be sick tomorrow +For this night’s watching. + +CAPULET. +No, not a whit. What! I have watch’d ere now +All night for lesser cause, and ne’er been sick. + +LADY CAPULET. +Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; +But I will watch you from such watching now. + + [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._] + +CAPULET. +A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! + + Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets. + +Now, fellow, what’s there? + +FIRST SERVANT. +Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + +CAPULET. +Make haste, make haste. + + [_Exit First Servant._] + +—Sirrah, fetch drier logs. +Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. + +SECOND SERVANT. +I have a head, sir, that will find out logs +And never trouble Peter for the matter. + + [_Exit._] + +CAPULET. +Mass and well said; a merry whoreson, ha. +Thou shalt be loggerhead.—Good faith, ’tis day. +The County will be here with music straight, +For so he said he would. I hear him near. + + [_Play music._] + +Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, Nurse, I say! + + Re-enter Nurse. + +Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up. +I’ll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, +Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already. +Make haste I say. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. Juliet’s Chamber; Juliet on the bed. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she. +Why, lamb, why, lady, fie, you slug-abed! +Why, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Why, bride! +What, not a word? You take your pennyworths now. +Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, +The County Paris hath set up his rest +That you shall rest but little. God forgive me! +Marry and amen. How sound is she asleep! +I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! +Ay, let the County take you in your bed, +He’ll fright you up, i’faith. Will it not be? +What, dress’d, and in your clothes, and down again? +I must needs wake you. Lady! Lady! Lady! +Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady’s dead! +O, well-a-day that ever I was born. +Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! My lady! + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +What noise is here? + +NURSE. +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET. +What is the matter? + +NURSE. +Look, look! O heavy day! + +LADY CAPULET. +O me, O me! My child, my only life. +Revive, look up, or I will die with thee. +Help, help! Call help. + + Enter Capulet. + +CAPULET. +For shame, bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. + +NURSE. +She’s dead, deceas’d, she’s dead; alack the day! + +LADY CAPULET. +Alack the day, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead! + +CAPULET. +Ha! Let me see her. Out alas! She’s cold, +Her blood is settled and her joints are stiff. +Life and these lips have long been separated. +Death lies on her like an untimely frost +Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + +NURSE. +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET. +O woful time! + +CAPULET. +Death, that hath ta’en her hence to make me wail, +Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris with Musicians. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + +CAPULET. +Ready to go, but never to return. +O son, the night before thy wedding day +Hath death lain with thy bride. There she lies, +Flower as she was, deflowered by him. +Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; +My daughter he hath wedded. I will die +And leave him all; life, living, all is death’s. + +PARIS. +Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, +And doth it give me such a sight as this? + +LADY CAPULET. +Accurs’d, unhappy, wretched, hateful day. +Most miserable hour that e’er time saw +In lasting labour of his pilgrimage. +But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, +But one thing to rejoice and solace in, +And cruel death hath catch’d it from my sight. + +NURSE. +O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day. +Most lamentable day, most woeful day +That ever, ever, I did yet behold! +O day, O day, O day, O hateful day. +Never was seen so black a day as this. +O woeful day, O woeful day. + +PARIS. +Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain. +Most detestable death, by thee beguil’d, +By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown. +O love! O life! Not life, but love in death! + +CAPULET. +Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr’d, kill’d. +Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now +To murder, murder our solemnity? +O child! O child! My soul, and not my child, +Dead art thou. Alack, my child is dead, +And with my child my joys are buried. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Peace, ho, for shame. Confusion’s cure lives not +In these confusions. Heaven and yourself +Had part in this fair maid, now heaven hath all, +And all the better is it for the maid. +Your part in her you could not keep from death, +But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. +The most you sought was her promotion, +For ’twas your heaven she should be advanc’d, +And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc’d +Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? +O, in this love, you love your child so ill +That you run mad, seeing that she is well. +She’s not well married that lives married long, +But she’s best married that dies married young. +Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary +On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, +And in her best array bear her to church; +For though fond nature bids us all lament, +Yet nature’s tears are reason’s merriment. + +CAPULET. +All things that we ordained festival +Turn from their office to black funeral: +Our instruments to melancholy bells, +Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; +Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; +Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, +And all things change them to the contrary. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him, +And go, Sir Paris, everyone prepare +To follow this fair corse unto her grave. +The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; +Move them no more by crossing their high will. + + [_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris and Friar._] + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. + +NURSE. +Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up, +For well you know this is a pitiful case. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + + [_Exit Nurse._] + + Enter Peter. + +PETER. +Musicians, O, musicians, ‘Heart’s ease,’ ‘Heart’s ease’, O, and you +will have me live, play ‘Heart’s ease.’ + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Why ‘Heart’s ease’? + +PETER. +O musicians, because my heart itself plays ‘My heart is full’. O play +me some merry dump to comfort me. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Not a dump we, ’tis no time to play now. + +PETER. +You will not then? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +No. + +PETER. +I will then give it you soundly. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +What will you give us? + +PETER. +No money, on my faith, but the gleek! I will give you the minstrel. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Then will I give you the serving-creature. + +PETER. +Then will I lay the serving-creature’s dagger on your pate. I will +carry no crotchets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa you. Do you note me? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +And you re us and fa us, you note us. + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + +PETER. +Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and +put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. + ‘When griping griefs the heart doth wound, + And doleful dumps the mind oppress, + Then music with her silver sound’— +Why ‘silver sound’? Why ‘music with her silver sound’? What say you, +Simon Catling? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + +PETER. +Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +I say ‘silver sound’ because musicians sound for silver. + +PETER. +Prates too! What say you, James Soundpost? + +THIRD MUSICIAN. +Faith, I know not what to say. + +PETER. +O, I cry you mercy, you are the singer. I will say for you. It is +‘music with her silver sound’ because musicians have no gold for +sounding. + ‘Then music with her silver sound + With speedy help doth lend redress.’ + + [_Exit._] + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +What a pestilent knave is this same! + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +Hang him, Jack. Come, we’ll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay +dinner. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. + + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, +My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. +My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne; +And all this day an unaccustom’d spirit +Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. +I dreamt my lady came and found me dead,— +Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!— +And breath’d such life with kisses in my lips, +That I reviv’d, and was an emperor. +Ah me, how sweet is love itself possess’d, +When but love’s shadows are so rich in joy. + + Enter Balthasar. + +News from Verona! How now, Balthasar? +Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar? +How doth my lady? Is my father well? +How fares my Juliet? That I ask again; +For nothing can be ill if she be well. + +BALTHASAR. +Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. +Her body sleeps in Capel’s monument, +And her immortal part with angels lives. +I saw her laid low in her kindred’s vault, +And presently took post to tell it you. +O pardon me for bringing these ill news, +Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + +ROMEO. +Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars! +Thou know’st my lodging. Get me ink and paper, +And hire post-horses. I will hence tonight. + +BALTHASAR. +I do beseech you sir, have patience. +Your looks are pale and wild, and do import +Some misadventure. + +ROMEO. +Tush, thou art deceiv’d. +Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. +Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar? + +BALTHASAR. +No, my good lord. + +ROMEO. +No matter. Get thee gone, +And hire those horses. I’ll be with thee straight. + + [_Exit Balthasar._] + +Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. +Let’s see for means. O mischief thou art swift +To enter in the thoughts of desperate men. +I do remember an apothecary,— +And hereabouts he dwells,—which late I noted +In tatter’d weeds, with overwhelming brows, +Culling of simples, meagre were his looks, +Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; +And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, +An alligator stuff’d, and other skins +Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves +A beggarly account of empty boxes, +Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, +Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses +Were thinly scatter’d, to make up a show. +Noting this penury, to myself I said, +And if a man did need a poison now, +Whose sale is present death in Mantua, +Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. +O, this same thought did but forerun my need, +And this same needy man must sell it me. +As I remember, this should be the house. +Being holiday, the beggar’s shop is shut. +What, ho! Apothecary! + + Enter Apothecary. + +APOTHECARY. +Who calls so loud? + +ROMEO. +Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. +Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have +A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear +As will disperse itself through all the veins, +That the life-weary taker may fall dead, +And that the trunk may be discharg’d of breath +As violently as hasty powder fir’d +Doth hurry from the fatal cannon’s womb. + +APOTHECARY. +Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua’s law +Is death to any he that utters them. + +ROMEO. +Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, +And fear’st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, +Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, +Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back. +The world is not thy friend, nor the world’s law; +The world affords no law to make thee rich; +Then be not poor, but break it and take this. + +APOTHECARY. +My poverty, but not my will consents. + +ROMEO. +I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. + +APOTHECARY. +Put this in any liquid thing you will +And drink it off; and, if you had the strength +Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight. + +ROMEO. +There is thy gold, worse poison to men’s souls, +Doing more murder in this loathsome world +Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. +I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. +Farewell, buy food, and get thyself in flesh. +Come, cordial and not poison, go with me +To Juliet’s grave, for there must I use thee. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar John. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Holy Franciscan Friar! Brother, ho! + + Enter Friar Lawrence. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +This same should be the voice of Friar John. +Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo? +Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Going to find a barefoot brother out, +One of our order, to associate me, +Here in this city visiting the sick, +And finding him, the searchers of the town, +Suspecting that we both were in a house +Where the infectious pestilence did reign, +Seal’d up the doors, and would not let us forth, +So that my speed to Mantua there was stay’d. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Who bare my letter then to Romeo? + +FRIAR JOHN. +I could not send it,—here it is again,— +Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, +So fearful were they of infection. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood, +The letter was not nice, but full of charge, +Of dear import, and the neglecting it +May do much danger. Friar John, go hence, +Get me an iron crow and bring it straight +Unto my cell. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Brother, I’ll go and bring it thee. + + [_Exit._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Now must I to the monument alone. +Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. +She will beshrew me much that Romeo +Hath had no notice of these accidents; +But I will write again to Mantua, +And keep her at my cell till Romeo come. +Poor living corse, clos’d in a dead man’s tomb. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. + + Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch. + +PARIS. +Give me thy torch, boy. Hence and stand aloof. +Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. +Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, +Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground; +So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, +Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, +But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me, +As signal that thou hear’st something approach. +Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + +PAGE. +[_Aside._] I am almost afraid to stand alone +Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. + + [_Retires._] + +PARIS. +Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew. +O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones, +Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, +Or wanting that, with tears distill’d by moans. +The obsequies that I for thee will keep, +Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. + + [_The Page whistles._] + +The boy gives warning something doth approach. +What cursed foot wanders this way tonight, +To cross my obsequies and true love’s rite? +What, with a torch! Muffle me, night, awhile. + + [_Retires._] + + Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a torch, mattock, &c. + +ROMEO. +Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. +Hold, take this letter; early in the morning +See thou deliver it to my lord and father. +Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee, +Whate’er thou hear’st or seest, stand all aloof +And do not interrupt me in my course. +Why I descend into this bed of death +Is partly to behold my lady’s face, +But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger +A precious ring, a ring that I must use +In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone. +But if thou jealous dost return to pry +In what I further shall intend to do, +By heaven I will tear thee joint by joint, +And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. +The time and my intents are savage-wild; +More fierce and more inexorable far +Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + +BALTHASAR. +I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +ROMEO. +So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. +Live, and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow. + +BALTHASAR. +For all this same, I’ll hide me hereabout. +His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. + + [_Retires_] + +ROMEO. +Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, +Gorg’d with the dearest morsel of the earth, +Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, + + [_Breaking open the door of the monument._] + +And in despite, I’ll cram thee with more food. + +PARIS. +This is that banish’d haughty Montague +That murder’d my love’s cousin,—with which grief, +It is supposed, the fair creature died,— +And here is come to do some villainous shame +To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. + + [_Advances._] + +Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague. +Can vengeance be pursu’d further than death? +Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. +Obey, and go with me, for thou must die. + +ROMEO. +I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. +Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. +Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone; +Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, +Put not another sin upon my head +By urging me to fury. O be gone. +By heaven I love thee better than myself; +For I come hither arm’d against myself. +Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say, +A madman’s mercy bid thee run away. + +PARIS. +I do defy thy conjuration, +And apprehend thee for a felon here. + +ROMEO. +Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! + + [_They fight._] + +PAGE. +O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + + [_Exit._] + +PARIS. +O, I am slain! [_Falls._] If thou be merciful, +Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. + + [_Dies._] + +ROMEO. +In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. +Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris! +What said my man, when my betossed soul +Did not attend him as we rode? I think +He told me Paris should have married Juliet. +Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? +Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, +To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, +One writ with me in sour misfortune’s book. +I’ll bury thee in a triumphant grave. +A grave? O no, a lantern, slaught’red youth, +For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes +This vault a feasting presence full of light. +Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr’d. + + [_Laying Paris in the monument._] + +How oft when men are at the point of death +Have they been merry! Which their keepers call +A lightning before death. O, how may I +Call this a lightning? O my love, my wife, +Death that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath, +Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. +Thou art not conquer’d. Beauty’s ensign yet +Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, +And death’s pale flag is not advanced there. +Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? +O, what more favour can I do to thee +Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain +To sunder his that was thine enemy? +Forgive me, cousin. Ah, dear Juliet, +Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe +That unsubstantial death is amorous; +And that the lean abhorred monster keeps +Thee here in dark to be his paramour? +For fear of that I still will stay with thee, +And never from this palace of dim night +Depart again. Here, here will I remain +With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here +Will I set up my everlasting rest; +And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars +From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. +Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, O you +The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss +A dateless bargain to engrossing death. +Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide. +Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on +The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark. +Here’s to my love! [_Drinks._] O true apothecary! +Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. + + [_Dies._] + + Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with a + lantern, crow, and spade. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Saint Francis be my speed. How oft tonight +Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who’s there? +Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead? + +BALTHASAR. +Here’s one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Bliss be upon you. Tell me, good my friend, +What torch is yond that vainly lends his light +To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, +It burneth in the Capels’ monument. + +BALTHASAR. +It doth so, holy sir, and there’s my master, +One that you love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Who is it? + +BALTHASAR. +Romeo. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +How long hath he been there? + +BALTHASAR. +Full half an hour. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Go with me to the vault. + +BALTHASAR. +I dare not, sir; +My master knows not but I am gone hence, +And fearfully did menace me with death +If I did stay to look on his intents. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Stay then, I’ll go alone. Fear comes upon me. +O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. + +BALTHASAR. +As I did sleep under this yew tree here, +I dreamt my master and another fought, +And that my master slew him. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo! [_Advances._] +Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains +The stony entrance of this sepulchre? +What mean these masterless and gory swords +To lie discolour’d by this place of peace? + + [_Enters the monument._] + +Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? +And steep’d in blood? Ah what an unkind hour +Is guilty of this lamentable chance? +The lady stirs. + + [_Juliet wakes and stirs._] + +JULIET. +O comfortable Friar, where is my lord? +I do remember well where I should be, +And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + + [_Noise within._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest +Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. +A greater power than we can contradict +Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. +Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; +And Paris too. Come, I’ll dispose of thee +Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. +Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. +Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. + +JULIET. +Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. + + [_Exit Friar Lawrence._] + +What’s here? A cup clos’d in my true love’s hand? +Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. +O churl. Drink all, and left no friendly drop +To help me after? I will kiss thy lips. +Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, +To make me die with a restorative. + + [_Kisses him._] + +Thy lips are warm! + +FIRST WATCH. +[_Within._] Lead, boy. Which way? + +JULIET. +Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger. + + [_Snatching Romeo’s dagger._] + +This is thy sheath. [_stabs herself_] There rest, and let me die. + + [_Falls on Romeo’s body and dies._] + + Enter Watch with the Page of Paris. + +PAGE. +This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn. + +FIRST WATCH. +The ground is bloody. Search about the churchyard. +Go, some of you, whoe’er you find attach. + + [_Exeunt some of the Watch._] + +Pitiful sight! Here lies the County slain, +And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, +Who here hath lain this two days buried. +Go tell the Prince; run to the Capulets. +Raise up the Montagues, some others search. + + [_Exeunt others of the Watch._] + +We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, +But the true ground of all these piteous woes +We cannot without circumstance descry. + + Re-enter some of the Watch with Balthasar. + +SECOND WATCH. +Here’s Romeo’s man. We found him in the churchyard. + +FIRST WATCH. +Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither. + + Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence. + +THIRD WATCH. Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. +We took this mattock and this spade from him +As he was coming from this churchyard side. + +FIRST WATCH. +A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too. + + Enter the Prince and Attendants. + +PRINCE. +What misadventure is so early up, +That calls our person from our morning’s rest? + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and others. + +CAPULET. +What should it be that they so shriek abroad? + +LADY CAPULET. +O the people in the street cry Romeo, +Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run +With open outcry toward our monument. + +PRINCE. +What fear is this which startles in our ears? + +FIRST WATCH. +Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, +And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before, +Warm and new kill’d. + +PRINCE. +Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + +FIRST WATCH. +Here is a Friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man, +With instruments upon them fit to open +These dead men’s tombs. + +CAPULET. +O heaven! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! +This dagger hath mista’en, for lo, his house +Is empty on the back of Montague, +And it mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom. + +LADY CAPULET. +O me! This sight of death is as a bell +That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + + Enter Montague and others. + +PRINCE. +Come, Montague, for thou art early up, +To see thy son and heir more early down. + +MONTAGUE. +Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight. +Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath. +What further woe conspires against mine age? + +PRINCE. +Look, and thou shalt see. + +MONTAGUE. +O thou untaught! What manners is in this, +To press before thy father to a grave? + +PRINCE. +Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, +Till we can clear these ambiguities, +And know their spring, their head, their true descent, +And then will I be general of your woes, +And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, +And let mischance be slave to patience. +Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I am the greatest, able to do least, +Yet most suspected, as the time and place +Doth make against me, of this direful murder. +And here I stand, both to impeach and purge +Myself condemned and myself excus’d. + +PRINCE. +Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I will be brief, for my short date of breath +Is not so long as is a tedious tale. +Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, +And she, there dead, that Romeo’s faithful wife. +I married them; and their stol’n marriage day +Was Tybalt’s doomsday, whose untimely death +Banish’d the new-made bridegroom from this city; +For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin’d. +You, to remove that siege of grief from her, +Betroth’d, and would have married her perforce +To County Paris. Then comes she to me, +And with wild looks, bid me devise some means +To rid her from this second marriage, +Or in my cell there would she kill herself. +Then gave I her, so tutored by my art, +A sleeping potion, which so took effect +As I intended, for it wrought on her +The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo +That he should hither come as this dire night +To help to take her from her borrow’d grave, +Being the time the potion’s force should cease. +But he which bore my letter, Friar John, +Was stay’d by accident; and yesternight +Return’d my letter back. Then all alone +At the prefixed hour of her waking +Came I to take her from her kindred’s vault, +Meaning to keep her closely at my cell +Till I conveniently could send to Romeo. +But when I came, some minute ere the time +Of her awaking, here untimely lay +The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. +She wakes; and I entreated her come forth +And bear this work of heaven with patience. +But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; +And she, too desperate, would not go with me, +But, as it seems, did violence on herself. +All this I know; and to the marriage +Her Nurse is privy. And if ought in this +Miscarried by my fault, let my old life +Be sacrific’d, some hour before his time, +Unto the rigour of severest law. + +PRINCE. +We still have known thee for a holy man. +Where’s Romeo’s man? What can he say to this? + +BALTHASAR. +I brought my master news of Juliet’s death, +And then in post he came from Mantua +To this same place, to this same monument. +This letter he early bid me give his father, +And threaten’d me with death, going in the vault, +If I departed not, and left him there. + +PRINCE. +Give me the letter, I will look on it. +Where is the County’s Page that rais’d the watch? +Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + +PAGE. +He came with flowers to strew his lady’s grave, +And bid me stand aloof, and so I did. +Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb, +And by and by my master drew on him, +And then I ran away to call the watch. + +PRINCE. +This letter doth make good the Friar’s words, +Their course of love, the tidings of her death. +And here he writes that he did buy a poison +Of a poor ’pothecary, and therewithal +Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. +Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montague, +See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, +That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! +And I, for winking at your discords too, +Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d. + +CAPULET. +O brother Montague, give me thy hand. +This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more +Can I demand. + +MONTAGUE. +But I can give thee more, +For I will raise her statue in pure gold, +That whiles Verona by that name is known, +There shall no figure at such rate be set +As that of true and faithful Juliet. + +CAPULET. +As rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie, +Poor sacrifices of our enmity. + +PRINCE. +A glooming peace this morning with it brings; +The sun for sorrow will not show his head. +Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. +Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished, +For never was a story of more woe +Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + + [_Exeunt._] + + diff --git a/search-engine/books/The Great Gatsby.txt b/search-engine/books/The Great Gatsby.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..751b903 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/The Great Gatsby.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6404 @@ +Title: The Great Gatsby +Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald + + The Great Gatsby + by + F. Scott Fitzgerald + + + Table of Contents + +I +II +III +IV +V +VI +VII +VIII +IX + + + Once again + to + Zelda + + + Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; + If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, + Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, + I must have you!” + + Thomas Parke d’Invilliers + + + I + +In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice +that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. + +“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just +remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages +that you’ve had.” + +He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative +in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more +than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a +habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me +the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to +detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal +person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of +being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, +unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have +feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by +some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on +the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least +the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and +marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgements is a matter of +infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I +forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly +repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out +unequally at birth. + +And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission +that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the +wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded +on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted +the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I +wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the +human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was +exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I +have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of +successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some +heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related +to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten +thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that +flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the +“creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a +romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and +which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out +all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust +floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my +interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle +Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a +clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of +Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s +brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil +War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father +carries on today. + +I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with +special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in +father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of +a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that +delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the +counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being +the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the +ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond +business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it +could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it +over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, +“Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance +me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I +thought, in the spring of twenty-two. + +The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm +season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly +trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a +house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He +found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a +month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and +I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a +few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who +made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to +herself over the electric stove. + +It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more +recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road. + +“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly. + +I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, +a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the +freedom of the neighbourhood. + +And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the +trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar +conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. + +There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to +be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen +volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they +stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, +promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and +Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other +books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a +series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now +I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become +again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” +This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at +from a single window, after all. + +It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of +the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender +riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where +there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of +land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in +contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most +domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great +wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the +egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact +end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual +wonder to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more +interesting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular +except shape and size. + +I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though +this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little +sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the +egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge +places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on +my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual +imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one +side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble +swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was +Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a +mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an +eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I +had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and +the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a +month. + +Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg +glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins +on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom +Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom +in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in +Chicago. + +Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of +the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a +national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute +limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savours of +anticlimax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his +freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago +and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for +instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake +Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was +wealthy enough to do that. + +Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for +no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully +wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a +permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe +it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift +on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of +some irrecoverable football game. + +And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East +Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house +was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white +Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at +the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, +jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when +it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though +from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French +windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm +windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with +his legs apart on the front porch. + +He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy +straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a +supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established +dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning +aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding +clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill +those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could +see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his +thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body. + +His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of +fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in +it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who +had hated his guts. + +“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to +say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We +were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I +always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like +him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own. + +We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch. + +“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about +restlessly. + +Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the +front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half +acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motorboat that bumped +the tide offshore. + +“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, +politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.” + +We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-coloured space, +fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The +windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside +that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through +the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale +flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the +ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-coloured rug, making a shadow +on it as wind does on the sea. + +The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous +couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an +anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were +rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a +short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments +listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a +picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the +rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the +curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the +floor. + +The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full +length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her +chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which +was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes +she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring +an apology for having disturbed her by coming in. + +The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly +forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, +charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the +room. + +“I’m p-paralysed with happiness.” + +She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my +hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was +no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she +had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was +Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people +lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less +charming.) + +At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost +imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object +she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her +something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. +Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned +tribute from me. + +I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, +thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and +down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be +played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, +bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement +in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: +a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had +done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, +exciting things hovering in the next hour. + +I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, +and how a dozen people had sent their love through me. + +“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically. + +“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel +painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all +night along the north shore.” + +“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Then she added +irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.” + +“I’d like to.” + +“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?” + +“Never.” + +“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—” + +Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped +and rested his hand on my shoulder. + +“What you doing, Nick?” + +“I’m a bond man.” + +“Who with?” + +I told him. + +“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively. + +This annoyed me. + +“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.” + +“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at +Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something +more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.” + +At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that +I started—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the +room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned +and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room. + +“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long +as I can remember.” + +“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to +New York all afternoon.” + +“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the +pantry. “I’m absolutely in training.” + +Her host looked at her incredulously. + +“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom +of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.” + +I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I +enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with +an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward +at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked +back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, +discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a +picture of her, somewhere before. + +“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody +there.” + +“I don’t know a single—” + +“You must know Gatsby.” + +“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?” + +Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; +wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled +me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square. + +Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two +young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open toward +the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the +diminished wind. + +“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her +fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She +looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day +of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in +the year and then miss it.” + +“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the +table as if she were getting into bed. + +“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me +helplessly: “What do people plan?” + +Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her +little finger. + +“Look!” she complained; “I hurt it.” + +We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue. + +“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, +but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a +great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—” + +“I hate that word ‘hulking,’ ” objected Tom crossly, “even in +kidding.” + +“Hulking,” insisted Daisy. + +Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a +bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool +as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all +desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a +polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew +that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too +would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the +West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its +close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer +nervous dread of the moment itself. + +“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass +of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or +something?” + +I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in +an unexpected way. + +“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve +gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise +of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?” + +“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone. + +“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is +if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly +submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.” + +“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of +unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in +them. What was that word we—” + +“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her +impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to +us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will +have control of things.” + +“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously +toward the fervent sun. + +“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom +interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair. + +“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, +and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a +slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the +things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all +that. Do you see?” + +There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his +complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. +When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler +left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned +towards me. + +“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. +“It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s +nose?” + +“That’s why I came over tonight.” + +“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher +for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred +people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it +began to affect his nose—” + +“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker. + +“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up +his position.” + +For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her +glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I +listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering +regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk. + +The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, +whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went +inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned +forward again, her voice glowing and singing. + +“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an +absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: +“An absolute rose?” + +This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only +extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart +was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, +thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and +excused herself and went into the house. + +Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of +meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” +in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the +room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to +hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, +mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether. + +“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbour—” I began. + +“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.” + +“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently. + +“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. +“I thought everybody knew.” + +“I don’t.” + +“Why—” she said hesitantly. “Tom’s got some woman in New York.” + +“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly. + +Miss Baker nodded. + +“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. +Don’t you think?” + +Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a +dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at +the table. + +“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gaiety. + +She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and +continued: “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic +outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a +nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing +away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?” + +“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light +enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.” + +The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head +decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, +vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes +at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I +was conscious of wanting to look squarely at everyone, and yet to +avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but +I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain +hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill +metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation +might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone +immediately for the police. + +The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss +Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into +the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, +trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed +Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In +its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee. + +Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and +her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that +turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be +some sedative questions about her little girl. + +“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even +if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.” + +“I wasn’t back from the war.” + +“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, +and I’m pretty cynical about everything.” + +Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she didn’t say any more, +and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her +daughter. + +“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.” + +“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you +what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?” + +“Very much.” + +“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was +less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of +the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right +away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I +turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a +girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be +in this world, a beautiful little fool.’ + +“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a +convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I +know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” +Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and +she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m +sophisticated!” + +The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my +belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me +uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to +exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a +moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as +if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret +society to which she and Tom belonged. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at +either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the +Saturday Evening Post—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running +together in a soothing tune. The lamplight, bright on his boots and +dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as +she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms. + +When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand. + +“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in +our very next issue.” + +Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she +stood up. + +“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the +ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.” + +“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” explained Daisy, +“over at Westchester.” + +“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.” + +I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous +expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the +sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard +some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I +had forgotten long ago. + +“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.” + +“If you’ll get up.” + +“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.” + +“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a +marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you +together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push +you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—” + +“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a +word.” + +“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let +her run around the country this way.” + +“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly. + +“Her family.” + +“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s +going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots +of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be +very good for her.” + +Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence. + +“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly. + +“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our +beautiful white—” + +“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” +demanded Tom suddenly. + +“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we +talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept +up on us and first thing you know—” + +“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me. + +I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes +later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood +side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor +Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait! + +“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were +engaged to a girl out West.” + +“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were +engaged.” + +“It’s a libel. I’m too poor.” + +“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again +in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be +true.” + +Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even +vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one +of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old +friend on account of rumours, and on the other hand I had no intention +of being rumoured into marriage. + +Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely +rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove +away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out +of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such +intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman +in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been +depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of +stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his +peremptory heart. + +Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside +garages, where new red petrol-pumps sat out in pools of light, and +when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and +sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had +blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the +trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth +blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered +across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I +was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of +my neighbour’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets +regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely +movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested +that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was +his of our local heavens. + +I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and +that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he +gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched +out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was +from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced +seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute +and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked +once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the +unquiet darkness. + + + II + +About halfway between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily +joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as +to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley +of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and +hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and +chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of +ash-grey men, who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery +air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, +gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the +ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable +cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight. + +But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift +endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. +J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and +gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, +but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass +over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set +them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then +sank down himself into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved +away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days, under sun +and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground. + +The valley of ashes is bounded on one side by a small foul river, and, +when the drawbridge is up to let barges through, the passengers on +waiting trains can stare at the dismal scene for as long as half an +hour. There is always a halt there of at least a minute, and it was +because of this that I first met Tom Buchanan’s mistress. + +The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known. His +acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular cafés +with her and, leaving her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with +whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her, I had no desire +to meet her—but I did. I went up to New York with Tom on the train one +afternoon, and when we stopped by the ash-heaps he jumped to his feet +and, taking hold of my elbow, literally forced me from the car. + +“We’re getting off,” he insisted. “I want you to meet my girl.” + +I think he’d tanked up a good deal at luncheon, and his determination +to have my company bordered on violence. The supercilious assumption +was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do. + +I followed him over a low whitewashed railroad fence, and we walked +back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg’s +persistent stare. The only building in sight was a small block of +yellow brick sitting on the edge of the waste land, a sort of compact +Main Street ministering to it, and contiguous to absolutely nothing. +One of the three shops it contained was for rent and another was an +all-night restaurant, approached by a trail of ashes; the third was a +garage—Repairs. George B. Wilson. Cars bought and sold.—and I followed +Tom inside. + +The interior was unprosperous and bare; the only car visible was the +dust-covered wreck of a Ford which crouched in a dim corner. It had +occurred to me that this shadow of a garage must be a blind, and that +sumptuous and romantic apartments were concealed overhead, when the +proprietor himself appeared in the door of an office, wiping his hands +on a piece of waste. He was a blond, spiritless man, anaemic, and +faintly handsome. When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his +light blue eyes. + +“Hello, Wilson, old man,” said Tom, slapping him jovially on the +shoulder. “How’s business?” + +“I can’t complain,” answered Wilson unconvincingly. “When are you +going to sell me that car?” + +“Next week; I’ve got my man working on it now.” + +“Works pretty slow, don’t he?” + +“No, he doesn’t,” said Tom coldly. “And if you feel that way about it, +maybe I’d better sell it somewhere else after all.” + +“I don’t mean that,” explained Wilson quickly. “I just meant—” + +His voice faded off and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage. +Then I heard footsteps on a stairs, and in a moment the thickish +figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. She was +in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her flesh +sensuously as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark +blue crêpe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there +was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of +her body were continually smouldering. She smiled slowly and, walking +through her husband as if he were a ghost, shook hands with Tom, +looking him flush in the eye. Then she wet her lips, and without +turning around spoke to her husband in a soft, coarse voice: + +“Get some chairs, why don’t you, so somebody can sit down.” + +“Oh, sure,” agreed Wilson hurriedly, and went toward the little +office, mingling immediately with the cement colour of the walls. A +white ashen dust veiled his dark suit and his pale hair as it veiled +everything in the vicinity—except his wife, who moved close to Tom. + +“I want to see you,” said Tom intently. “Get on the next train.” + +“All right.” + +“I’ll meet you by the newsstand on the lower level.” + +She nodded and moved away from him just as George Wilson emerged with +two chairs from his office door. + +We waited for her down the road and out of sight. It was a few days +before the Fourth of July, and a grey, scrawny Italian child was +setting torpedoes in a row along the railroad track. + +“Terrible place, isn’t it,” said Tom, exchanging a frown with Doctor +Eckleburg. + +“Awful.” + +“It does her good to get away.” + +“Doesn’t her husband object?” + +“Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He’s so +dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.” + +So Tom Buchanan and his girl and I went up together to New York—or not +quite together, for Mrs. Wilson sat discreetly in another car. Tom +deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East Eggers who might +be on the train. + +She had changed her dress to a brown figured muslin, which stretched +tight over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her to the platform in +New York. At the newsstand she bought a copy of Town Tattle and a +moving-picture magazine, and in the station drugstore some cold cream +and a small flask of perfume. Upstairs, in the solemn echoing drive +she let four taxicabs drive away before she selected a new one, +lavender-coloured with grey upholstery, and in this we slid out from +the mass of the station into the glowing sunshine. But immediately she +turned sharply from the window and, leaning forward, tapped on the +front glass. + +“I want to get one of those dogs,” she said earnestly. “I want to get +one for the apartment. They’re nice to have—a dog.” + +We backed up to a grey old man who bore an absurd resemblance to John +D. Rockefeller. In a basket swung from his neck cowered a dozen very +recent puppies of an indeterminate breed. + +“What kind are they?” asked Mrs. Wilson eagerly, as he came to the +taxi-window. + +“All kinds. What kind do you want, lady?” + +“I’d like to get one of those police dogs; I don’t suppose you got +that kind?” + +The man peered doubtfully into the basket, plunged in his hand and +drew one up, wriggling, by the back of the neck. + +“That’s no police dog,” said Tom. + +“No, it’s not exactly a police dog,” said the man with disappointment +in his voice. “It’s more of an Airedale.” He passed his hand over the +brown washrag of a back. “Look at that coat. Some coat. That’s a dog +that’ll never bother you with catching cold.” + +“I think it’s cute,” said Mrs. Wilson enthusiastically. “How much is +it?” + +“That dog?” He looked at it admiringly. “That dog will cost you ten +dollars.” + +The Airedale—undoubtedly there was an Airedale concerned in it +somewhere, though its feet were startlingly white—changed hands and +settled down into Mrs. Wilson’s lap, where she fondled the +weatherproof coat with rapture. + +“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked delicately. + +“That dog? That dog’s a boy.” + +“It’s a bitch,” said Tom decisively. “Here’s your money. Go and buy +ten more dogs with it.” + +We drove over to Fifth Avenue, warm and soft, almost pastoral, on the +summer Sunday afternoon. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a great +flock of white sheep turn the corner. + +“Hold on,” I said, “I have to leave you here.” + +“No you don’t,” interposed Tom quickly. “Myrtle’ll be hurt if you +don’t come up to the apartment. Won’t you, Myrtle?” + +“Come on,” she urged. “I’ll telephone my sister Catherine. She’s said +to be very beautiful by people who ought to know.” + +“Well, I’d like to, but—” + +We went on, cutting back again over the Park toward the West Hundreds. +At 158th Street the cab stopped at one slice in a long white cake of +apartment-houses. Throwing a regal homecoming glance around the +neighbourhood, Mrs. Wilson gathered up her dog and her other +purchases, and went haughtily in. + +“I’m going to have the McKees come up,” she announced as we rose in +the elevator. “And, of course, I got to call up my sister, too.” + +The apartment was on the top floor—a small living-room, a small +dining-room, a small bedroom, and a bath. The living-room was crowded +to the doors with a set of tapestried furniture entirely too large for +it, so that to move about was to stumble continually over scenes of +ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The only picture was an +over-enlarged photograph, apparently a hen sitting on a blurred rock. +Looked at from a distance, however, the hen resolved itself into a +bonnet, and the countenance of a stout old lady beamed down into the +room. Several old copies of Town Tattle lay on the table together with +a copy of Simon Called Peter, and some of the small scandal magazines +of Broadway. Mrs. Wilson was first concerned with the dog. A reluctant +elevator boy went for a box full of straw and some milk, to which he +added on his own initiative a tin of large, hard dog biscuits—one of +which decomposed apathetically in the saucer of milk all +afternoon. Meanwhile Tom brought out a bottle of whisky from a locked +bureau door. + +I have been drunk just twice in my life, and the second time was that +afternoon; so everything that happened has a dim, hazy cast over it, +although until after eight o’clock the apartment was full of cheerful +sun. Sitting on Tom’s lap Mrs. Wilson called up several people on the +telephone; then there were no cigarettes, and I went out to buy some +at the drugstore on the corner. When I came back they had both +disappeared, so I sat down discreetly in the living-room and read a +chapter of Simon Called Peter—either it was terrible stuff or the +whisky distorted things, because it didn’t make any sense to me. + +Just as Tom and Myrtle (after the first drink Mrs. Wilson and I called +each other by our first names) reappeared, company commenced to arrive +at the apartment door. + +The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, +with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky +white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more +rakish angle, but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the +old alignment gave a blurred air to her face. When she moved about +there was an incessant clicking as innumerable pottery bracelets +jingled up and down upon her arms. She came in with such a proprietary +haste, and looked around so possessively at the furniture that I +wondered if she lived here. But when I asked her she laughed +immoderately, repeated my question aloud, and told me she lived with a +girl friend at a hotel. + +Mr. McKee was a pale, feminine man from the flat below. He had just +shaved, for there was a white spot of lather on his cheekbone, and he +was most respectful in his greeting to everyone in the room. He +informed me that he was in the “artistic game,” and I gathered later +that he was a photographer and had made the dim enlargement of +Mrs. Wilson’s mother which hovered like an ectoplasm on the wall. His +wife was shrill, languid, handsome, and horrible. She told me with +pride that her husband had photographed her a hundred and twenty-seven +times since they had been married. + +Mrs. Wilson had changed her costume some time before, and was now +attired in an elaborate afternoon dress of cream-coloured chiffon, +which gave out a continual rustle as she swept about the room. With +the influence of the dress her personality had also undergone a +change. The intense vitality that had been so remarkable in the garage +was converted into impressive hauteur. Her laughter, her gestures, her +assertions became more violently affected moment by moment, and as she +expanded the room grew smaller around her, until she seemed to be +revolving on a noisy, creaking pivot through the smoky air. + +“My dear,” she told her sister in a high, mincing shout, “most of +these fellas will cheat you every time. All they think of is money. I +had a woman up here last week to look at my feet, and when she gave me +the bill you’d of thought she had my appendicitis out.” + +“What was the name of the woman?” asked Mrs. McKee. + +“Mrs. Eberhardt. She goes around looking at people’s feet in their own +homes.” + +“I like your dress,” remarked Mrs. McKee, “I think it’s adorable.” + +Mrs. Wilson rejected the compliment by raising her eyebrow in disdain. + +“It’s just a crazy old thing,” she said. “I just slip it on sometimes +when I don’t care what I look like.” + +“But it looks wonderful on you, if you know what I mean,” pursued Mrs. +McKee. “If Chester could only get you in that pose I think he could +make something of it.” + +We all looked in silence at Mrs. Wilson, who removed a strand of hair +from over her eyes and looked back at us with a brilliant smile. Mr. +McKee regarded her intently with his head on one side, and then moved +his hand back and forth slowly in front of his face. + +“I should change the light,” he said after a moment. “I’d like to +bring out the modelling of the features. And I’d try to get hold of +all the back hair.” + +“I wouldn’t think of changing the light,” cried Mrs. McKee. “I think +it’s—” + +Her husband said “Sh!” and we all looked at the subject again, +whereupon Tom Buchanan yawned audibly and got to his feet. + +“You McKees have something to drink,” he said. “Get some more ice and +mineral water, Myrtle, before everybody goes to sleep.” + +“I told that boy about the ice.” Myrtle raised her eyebrows in despair +at the shiftlessness of the lower orders. “These people! You have to +keep after them all the time.” + +She looked at me and laughed pointlessly. Then she flounced over to +the dog, kissed it with ecstasy, and swept into the kitchen, implying +that a dozen chefs awaited her orders there. + +“I’ve done some nice things out on Long Island,” asserted Mr. McKee. + +Tom looked at him blankly. + +“Two of them we have framed downstairs.” + +“Two what?” demanded Tom. + +“Two studies. One of them I call Montauk Point—The Gulls, and the +other I call Montauk Point—The Sea.” + +The sister Catherine sat down beside me on the couch. + +“Do you live down on Long Island, too?” she inquired. + +“I live at West Egg.” + +“Really? I was down there at a party about a month ago. At a man named +Gatsby’s. Do you know him?” + +“I live next door to him.” + +“Well, they say he’s a nephew or a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm’s. That’s +where all his money comes from.” + +“Really?” + +She nodded. + +“I’m scared of him. I’d hate to have him get anything on me.” + +This absorbing information about my neighbour was interrupted by Mrs. +McKee’s pointing suddenly at Catherine: + +“Chester, I think you could do something with her,” she broke out, but +Mr. McKee only nodded in a bored way, and turned his attention to Tom. + +“I’d like to do more work on Long Island, if I could get the entry. +All I ask is that they should give me a start.” + +“Ask Myrtle,” said Tom, breaking into a short shout of laughter as +Mrs. Wilson entered with a tray. “She’ll give you a letter of +introduction, won’t you, Myrtle?” + +“Do what?” she asked, startled. + +“You’ll give McKee a letter of introduction to your husband, so he can +do some studies of him.” His lips moved silently for a moment as he +invented, “ ‘George B. Wilson at the Gasoline Pump,’ or something like +that.” + +Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: + +“Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to.” + +“Can’t they?” + +“Can’t stand them.” She looked at Myrtle and then at Tom. “What I say +is, why go on living with them if they can’t stand them? If I was them +I’d get a divorce and get married to each other right away.” + +“Doesn’t she like Wilson either?” + +The answer to this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle, who had +overheard the question, and it was violent and obscene. + +“You see,” cried Catherine triumphantly. She lowered her voice again. +“It’s really his wife that’s keeping them apart. She’s a Catholic, and +they don’t believe in divorce.” + +Daisy was not a Catholic, and I was a little shocked at the +elaborateness of the lie. + +“When they do get married,” continued Catherine, “they’re going West +to live for a while until it blows over.” + +“It’d be more discreet to go to Europe.” + +“Oh, do you like Europe?” she exclaimed surprisingly. “I just got back +from Monte Carlo.” + +“Really.” + +“Just last year. I went over there with another girl.” + +“Stay long?” + +“No, we just went to Monte Carlo and back. We went by way of +Marseilles. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we +got gyped out of it all in two days in the private rooms. We had an +awful time getting back, I can tell you. God, how I hated that town!” + +The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a moment like the +blue honey of the Mediterranean—then the shrill voice of Mrs. McKee +called me back into the room. + +“I almost made a mistake, too,” she declared vigorously. “I almost +married a little kike who’d been after me for years. I knew he was +below me. Everybody kept saying to me: ‘Lucille, that man’s way below +you!’ But if I hadn’t met Chester, he’d of got me sure.” + +“Yes, but listen,” said Myrtle Wilson, nodding her head up and down, +“at least you didn’t marry him.” + +“I know I didn’t.” + +“Well, I married him,” said Myrtle, ambiguously. “And that’s the +difference between your case and mine.” + +“Why did you, Myrtle?” demanded Catherine. “Nobody forced you to.” + +Myrtle considered. + +“I married him because I thought he was a gentleman,” she said +finally. “I thought he knew something about breeding, but he wasn’t +fit to lick my shoe.” + +“You were crazy about him for a while,” said Catherine. + +“Crazy about him!” cried Myrtle incredulously. “Who said I was crazy +about him? I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that +man there.” + +She pointed suddenly at me, and everyone looked at me accusingly. I +tried to show by my expression that I expected no affection. + +“The only crazy I was was when I married him. I knew right away I made +a mistake. He borrowed somebody’s best suit to get married in, and +never even told me about it, and the man came after it one day when he +was out: ‘Oh, is that your suit?’ I said. ‘This is the first I ever +heard about it.’ But I gave it to him and then I lay down and cried to +beat the band all afternoon.” + +“She really ought to get away from him,” resumed Catherine to me. +“They’ve been living over that garage for eleven years. And Tom’s the +first sweetie she ever had.” + +The bottle of whisky—a second one—was now in constant demand by all +present, excepting Catherine, who “felt just as good on nothing at +all.” Tom rang for the janitor and sent him for some celebrated +sandwiches, which were a complete supper in themselves. I wanted to +get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight, +but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild, strident +argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet +high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed +their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening +streets, and I saw him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and +without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible +variety of life. + +Myrtle pulled her chair close to mine, and suddenly her warm breath +poured over me the story of her first meeting with Tom. + +“It was on the two little seats facing each other that are always the +last ones left on the train. I was going up to New York to see my +sister and spend the night. He had on a dress suit and patent leather +shoes, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked +at me I had to pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his +head. When we came into the station he was next to me, and his white +shirtfront pressed against my arm, and so I told him I’d have to call +a policeman, but he knew I lied. I was so excited that when I got into +a taxi with him I didn’t hardly know I wasn’t getting into a subway +train. All I kept thinking about, over and over, was ‘You can’t live +forever; you can’t live forever.’ ” + +She turned to Mrs. McKee and the room rang full of her artificial +laughter. + +“My dear,” she cried, “I’m going to give you this dress as soon as I’m +through with it. I’ve got to get another one tomorrow. I’m going to +make a list of all the things I’ve got to get. A massage and a wave, +and a collar for the dog, and one of those cute little ashtrays where +you touch a spring, and a wreath with a black silk bow for mother’s +grave that’ll last all summer. I got to write down a list so I won’t +forget all the things I got to do.” + +It was nine o’clock—almost immediately afterward I looked at my watch +and found it was ten. Mr. McKee was asleep on a chair with his fists +clenched in his lap, like a photograph of a man of action. Taking out +my handkerchief I wiped from his cheek the spot of dried lather that +had worried me all the afternoon. + +The little dog was sitting on the table looking with blind eyes +through the smoke, and from time to time groaning faintly. People +disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost +each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet +away. Some time toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood +face to face discussing, in impassioned voices, whether Mrs. Wilson +had any right to mention Daisy’s name. + +“Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!” shouted Mrs. Wilson. “I’ll say it whenever I +want to! Daisy! Dai—” + +Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his +open hand. + +Then there were bloody towels upon the bathroom floor, and women’s +voices scolding, and high over the confusion a long broken wail of +pain. Mr. McKee awoke from his doze and started in a daze toward the +door. When he had gone halfway he turned around and stared at the +scene—his wife and Catherine scolding and consoling as they stumbled +here and there among the crowded furniture with articles of aid, and +the despairing figure on the couch, bleeding fluently, and trying to +spread a copy of Town Tattle over the tapestry scenes of +Versailles. Then Mr. McKee turned and continued on out the door. +Taking my hat from the chandelier, I followed. + +“Come to lunch some day,” he suggested, as we groaned down in the +elevator. + +“Where?” + +“Anywhere.” + +“Keep your hands off the lever,” snapped the elevator boy. + +“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. McKee with dignity, “I didn’t know I was +touching it.” + +“All right,” I agreed, “I’ll be glad to.” + +… I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the +sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands. + +“Beauty and the Beast … Loneliness … Old Grocery Horse … Brook’n +Bridge …” + +Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the +Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning Tribune, and waiting for +the four o’clock train. + + + III + +There was music from my neighbour’s house through the summer nights. +In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the +whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the +afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or +taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motorboats +slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of +foam. On weekends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties +to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past +midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to +meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra +gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers +and garden-shears, repairing the ravages of the night before. + +Every Friday five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a +fruiterer in New York—every Monday these same oranges and lemons left +his back door in a pyramid of pulpless halves. There was a machine in +the kitchen which could extract the juice of two hundred oranges in +half an hour if a little button was pressed two hundred times by a +butler’s thumb. + +At least once a fortnight a corps of caterers came down with several +hundred feet of canvas and enough coloured lights to make a Christmas +tree of Gatsby’s enormous garden. On buffet tables, garnished with +glistening hors-d’oeuvre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of +harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark +gold. In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and +stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that +most of his female guests were too young to know one from another. + +By seven o’clock the orchestra has arrived, no thin five-piece affair, +but a whole pitful of oboes and trombones and saxophones and viols and +cornets and piccolos, and low and high drums. The last swimmers have +come in from the beach now and are dressing upstairs; the cars from +New York are parked five deep in the drive, and already the halls and +salons and verandas are gaudy with primary colours, and hair bobbed in +strange new ways, and shawls beyond the dreams of Castile. The bar is +in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden +outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual +innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic +meetings between women who never knew each other’s names. + +The lights grow brighter as the earth lurches away from the sun, and +now the orchestra is playing yellow cocktail music, and the opera of +voices pitches a key higher. Laughter is easier minute by minute, +spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word. The groups +change more swiftly, swell with new arrivals, dissolve and form in the +same breath; already there are wanderers, confident girls who weave +here and there among the stouter and more stable, become for a sharp, +joyous moment the centre of a group, and then, excited with triumph, +glide on through the sea-change of faces and voices and colour under +the constantly changing light. + +Suddenly one of these gypsies, in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail +out of the air, dumps it down for courage and, moving her hands like +Frisco, dances out alone on the canvas platform. A momentary hush; the +orchestra leader varies his rhythm obligingly for her, and there is a +burst of chatter as the erroneous news goes around that she is Gilda +Gray’s understudy from the Follies. The party has begun. + +I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby’s house I was one +of the few guests who had actually been invited. People were not +invited—they went there. They got into automobiles which bore them out +to Long Island, and somehow they ended up at Gatsby’s door. Once there +they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby, and after that they +conducted themselves according to the rules of behaviour associated +with an amusement park. Sometimes they came and went without having +met Gatsby at all, came for the party with a simplicity of heart that +was its own ticket of admission. + +I had been actually invited. A chauffeur in a uniform of robin’s-egg +blue crossed my lawn early that Saturday morning with a surprisingly +formal note from his employer: the honour would be entirely Gatsby’s, +it said, if I would attend his “little party” that night. He had seen +me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a +peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it—signed Jay +Gatsby, in a majestic hand. + +Dressed up in white flannels I went over to his lawn a little after +seven, and wandered around rather ill at ease among swirls and eddies +of people I didn’t know—though here and there was a face I had noticed +on the commuting train. I was immediately struck by the number of +young Englishmen dotted about; all well dressed, all looking a little +hungry, and all talking in low, earnest voices to solid and prosperous +Americans. I was sure that they were selling something: bonds or +insurance or automobiles. They were at least agonizingly aware of the +easy money in the vicinity and convinced that it was theirs for a few +words in the right key. + +As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host, but the two or +three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an +amazed way, and denied so vehemently any knowledge of his movements, +that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table—the only place +in the garden where a single man could linger without looking +purposeless and alone. + +I was on my way to get roaring drunk from sheer embarrassment when +Jordan Baker came out of the house and stood at the head of the marble +steps, leaning a little backward and looking with contemptuous +interest down into the garden. + +Welcome or not, I found it necessary to attach myself to someone +before I should begin to address cordial remarks to the passersby. + +“Hello!” I roared, advancing toward her. My voice seemed unnaturally +loud across the garden. + +“I thought you might be here,” she responded absently as I came up. +“I remembered you lived next door to—” + +She held my hand impersonally, as a promise that she’d take care of me +in a minute, and gave ear to two girls in twin yellow dresses, who +stopped at the foot of the steps. + +“Hello!” they cried together. “Sorry you didn’t win.” + +That was for the golf tournament. She had lost in the finals the week +before. + +“You don’t know who we are,” said one of the girls in yellow, “but we +met you here about a month ago.” + +“You’ve dyed your hair since then,” remarked Jordan, and I started, +but the girls had moved casually on and her remark was addressed to +the premature moon, produced like the supper, no doubt, out of a +caterer’s basket. With Jordan’s slender golden arm resting in mine, we +descended the steps and sauntered about the garden. A tray of +cocktails floated at us through the twilight, and we sat down at a +table with the two girls in yellow and three men, each one introduced +to us as Mr. Mumble. + +“Do you come to these parties often?” inquired Jordan of the girl +beside her. + +“The last one was the one I met you at,” answered the girl, in an +alert confident voice. She turned to her companion: “Wasn’t it for +you, Lucille?” + +It was for Lucille, too. + +“I like to come,” Lucille said. “I never care what I do, so I always +have a good time. When I was here last I tore my gown on a chair, and +he asked me my name and address—inside of a week I got a package from +Croirier’s with a new evening gown in it.” + +“Did you keep it?” asked Jordan. + +“Sure I did. I was going to wear it tonight, but it was too big in the +bust and had to be altered. It was gas blue with lavender beads. Two +hundred and sixty-five dollars.” + +“There’s something funny about a fellow that’ll do a thing like that,” +said the other girl eagerly. “He doesn’t want any trouble with +anybody.” + +“Who doesn’t?” I inquired. + +“Gatsby. Somebody told me—” + +The two girls and Jordan leaned together confidentially. + +“Somebody told me they thought he killed a man once.” + +A thrill passed over all of us. The three Mr. Mumbles bent forward and +listened eagerly. + +“I don’t think it’s so much that,” argued Lucille sceptically; “It’s +more that he was a German spy during the war.” + +One of the men nodded in confirmation. + +“I heard that from a man who knew all about him, grew up with him in +Germany,” he assured us positively. + +“Oh, no,” said the first girl, “it couldn’t be that, because he was in +the American army during the war.” As our credulity switched back to +her she leaned forward with enthusiasm. “You look at him sometimes +when he thinks nobody’s looking at him. I’ll bet he killed a man.” + +She narrowed her eyes and shivered. Lucille shivered. We all turned +and looked around for Gatsby. It was testimony to the romantic +speculation he inspired that there were whispers about him from those +who had found little that it was necessary to whisper about in this +world. + +The first supper—there would be another one after midnight—was now +being served, and Jordan invited me to join her own party, who were +spread around a table on the other side of the garden. There were +three married couples and Jordan’s escort, a persistent undergraduate +given to violent innuendo, and obviously under the impression that +sooner or later Jordan was going to yield him up her person to a +greater or lesser degree. Instead of rambling, this party had +preserved a dignified homogeneity, and assumed to itself the function +of representing the staid nobility of the countryside—East Egg +condescending to West Egg and carefully on guard against its +spectroscopic gaiety. + +“Let’s get out,” whispered Jordan, after a somehow wasteful and +inappropriate half-hour; “this is much too polite for me.” + +We got up, and she explained that we were going to find the host: I +had never met him, she said, and it was making me uneasy. The +undergraduate nodded in a cynical, melancholy way. + +The bar, where we glanced first, was crowded, but Gatsby was not +there. She couldn’t find him from the top of the steps, and he wasn’t +on the veranda. On a chance we tried an important-looking door, and +walked into a high Gothic library, panelled with carved English oak, +and probably transported complete from some ruin overseas. + +A stout, middle-aged man, with enormous owl-eyed spectacles, was +sitting somewhat drunk on the edge of a great table, staring with +unsteady concentration at the shelves of books. As we entered he +wheeled excitedly around and examined Jordan from head to foot. + +“What do you think?” he demanded impetuously. + +“About what?” + +He waved his hand toward the bookshelves. + +“About that. As a matter of fact you needn’t bother to ascertain. I +ascertained. They’re real.” + +“The books?” + +He nodded. + +“Absolutely real—have pages and everything. I thought they’d be a nice +durable cardboard. Matter of fact, they’re absolutely real. Pages +and—Here! Lemme show you.” + +Taking our scepticism for granted, he rushed to the bookcases and +returned with Volume One of the Stoddard Lectures. + +“See!” he cried triumphantly. “It’s a bona-fide piece of printed +matter. It fooled me. This fella’s a regular Belasco. It’s a +triumph. What thoroughness! What realism! Knew when to stop, +too—didn’t cut the pages. But what do you want? What do you expect?” + +He snatched the book from me and replaced it hastily on its shelf, +muttering that if one brick was removed the whole library was liable +to collapse. + +“Who brought you?” he demanded. “Or did you just come? I was brought. +Most people were brought.” + +Jordan looked at him alertly, cheerfully, without answering. + +“I was brought by a woman named Roosevelt,” he continued. “Mrs. Claud +Roosevelt. Do you know her? I met her somewhere last night. I’ve been +drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit +in a library.” + +“Has it?” + +“A little bit, I think. I can’t tell yet. I’ve only been here an hour. +Did I tell you about the books? They’re real. They’re—” + +“You told us.” + +We shook hands with him gravely and went back outdoors. + +There was dancing now on the canvas in the garden; old men pushing +young girls backward in eternal graceless circles, superior couples +holding each other tortuously, fashionably, and keeping in the +corners—and a great number of single girls dancing individually or +relieving the orchestra for a moment of the burden of the banjo or the +traps. By midnight the hilarity had increased. A celebrated tenor had +sung in Italian, and a notorious contralto had sung in jazz, and +between the numbers people were doing “stunts” all over the garden, +while happy, vacuous bursts of laughter rose toward the summer sky. A +pair of stage twins, who turned out to be the girls in yellow, did a +baby act in costume, and champagne was served in glasses bigger than +finger-bowls. The moon had risen higher, and floating in the Sound was +a triangle of silver scales, trembling a little to the stiff, tinny +drip of the banjoes on the lawn. + +I was still with Jordan Baker. We were sitting at a table with a man +of about my age and a rowdy little girl, who gave way upon the +slightest provocation to uncontrollable laughter. I was enjoying +myself now. I had taken two finger-bowls of champagne, and the scene +had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and +profound. + +At a lull in the entertainment the man looked at me and smiled. + +“Your face is familiar,” he said politely. “Weren’t you in the First +Division during the war?” + +“Why yes. I was in the Twenty-eighth Infantry.” + +“I was in the Sixteenth until June nineteen-eighteen. I knew I’d seen +you somewhere before.” + +We talked for a moment about some wet, grey little villages in France. +Evidently he lived in this vicinity, for he told me that he had just +bought a hydroplane, and was going to try it out in the morning. + +“Want to go with me, old sport? Just near the shore along the Sound.” + +“What time?” + +“Any time that suits you best.” + +It was on the tip of my tongue to ask his name when Jordan looked +around and smiled. + +“Having a gay time now?” she inquired. + +“Much better.” I turned again to my new acquaintance. “This is an +unusual party for me. I haven’t even seen the host. I live over +there—” I waved my hand at the invisible hedge in the distance, “and +this man Gatsby sent over his chauffeur with an invitation.” + +For a moment he looked at me as if he failed to understand. + +“I’m Gatsby,” he said suddenly. + +“What!” I exclaimed. “Oh, I beg your pardon.” + +“I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I’m not a very good host.” + +He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one +of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that +you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to +face—the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on +you with an irresistible prejudice in your favour. It understood you +just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you +would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had +precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to +convey. Precisely at that point it vanished—and I was looking at an +elegant young roughneck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate +formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he +introduced himself I’d got a strong impression that he was picking his +words with care. + +Almost at the moment when Mr. Gatsby identified himself a butler +hurried toward him with the information that Chicago was calling him +on the wire. He excused himself with a small bow that included each of +us in turn. + +“If you want anything just ask for it, old sport,” he urged me. +“Excuse me. I will rejoin you later.” + +When he was gone I turned immediately to Jordan—constrained to assure +her of my surprise. I had expected that Mr. Gatsby would be a florid +and corpulent person in his middle years. + +“Who is he?” I demanded. “Do you know?” + +“He’s just a man named Gatsby.” + +“Where is he from, I mean? And what does he do?” + +“Now you’re started on the subject,” she answered with a wan smile. +“Well, he told me once he was an Oxford man.” + +A dim background started to take shape behind him, but at her next +remark it faded away. + +“However, I don’t believe it.” + +“Why not?” + +“I don’t know,” she insisted, “I just don’t think he went there.” + +Something in her tone reminded me of the other girl’s “I think he +killed a man,” and had the effect of stimulating my curiosity. I would +have accepted without question the information that Gatsby sprang from +the swamps of Louisiana or from the lower East Side of New York. That +was comprehensible. But young men didn’t—at least in my provincial +inexperience I believed they didn’t—drift coolly out of nowhere and +buy a palace on Long Island Sound. + +“Anyhow, he gives large parties,” said Jordan, changing the subject +with an urban distaste for the concrete. “And I like large parties. +They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” + +There was the boom of a bass drum, and the voice of the orchestra +leader rang out suddenly above the echolalia of the garden. + +“Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried. “At the request of Mr. Gatsby we are +going to play for you Mr. Vladmir Tostoff’s latest work, which +attracted so much attention at Carnegie Hall last May. If you read the +papers you know there was a big sensation.” He smiled with jovial +condescension, and added: “Some sensation!” Whereupon everybody +laughed. + +“The piece is known,” he concluded lustily, “as ‘Vladmir Tostoff’s +Jazz History of the World!’ ” + +The nature of Mr. Tostoff’s composition eluded me, because just as it +began my eyes fell on Gatsby, standing alone on the marble steps and +looking from one group to another with approving eyes. His tanned skin +was drawn attractively tight on his face and his short hair looked as +though it were trimmed every day. I could see nothing sinister about +him. I wondered if the fact that he was not drinking helped to set him +off from his guests, for it seemed to me that he grew more correct as +the fraternal hilarity increased. When the “Jazz History of the World” +was over, girls were putting their heads on men’s shoulders in a +puppyish, convivial way, girls were swooning backward playfully into +men’s arms, even into groups, knowing that someone would arrest their +falls—but no one swooned backward on Gatsby, and no French bob touched +Gatsby’s shoulder, and no singing quartets were formed with Gatsby’s +head for one link. + +“I beg your pardon.” + +Gatsby’s butler was suddenly standing beside us. + +“Miss Baker?” he inquired. “I beg your pardon, but Mr. Gatsby would +like to speak to you alone.” + +“With me?” she exclaimed in surprise. + +“Yes, madame.” + +She got up slowly, raising her eyebrows at me in astonishment, and +followed the butler toward the house. I noticed that she wore her +evening-dress, all her dresses, like sports clothes—there was a +jauntiness about her movements as if she had first learned to walk +upon golf courses on clean, crisp mornings. + +I was alone and it was almost two. For some time confused and +intriguing sounds had issued from a long, many-windowed room which +overhung the terrace. Eluding Jordan’s undergraduate, who was now +engaged in an obstetrical conversation with two chorus girls, and who +implored me to join him, I went inside. + +The large room was full of people. One of the girls in yellow was +playing the piano, and beside her stood a tall, red-haired young lady +from a famous chorus, engaged in song. She had drunk a quantity of +champagne, and during the course of her song she had decided, ineptly, +that everything was very, very sad—she was not only singing, she was +weeping too. Whenever there was a pause in the song she filled it with +gasping, broken sobs, and then took up the lyric again in a quavering +soprano. The tears coursed down her cheeks—not freely, however, for +when they came into contact with her heavily beaded eyelashes they +assumed an inky colour, and pursued the rest of their way in slow +black rivulets. A humorous suggestion was made that she sing the notes +on her face, whereupon she threw up her hands, sank into a chair, and +went off into a deep vinous sleep. + +“She had a fight with a man who says he’s her husband,” explained a +girl at my elbow. + +I looked around. Most of the remaining women were now having fights +with men said to be their husbands. Even Jordan’s party, the quartet +from East Egg, were rent asunder by dissension. One of the men was +talking with curious intensity to a young actress, and his wife, after +attempting to laugh at the situation in a dignified and indifferent +way, broke down entirely and resorted to flank attacks—at intervals +she appeared suddenly at his side like an angry diamond, and hissed: +“You promised!” into his ear. + +The reluctance to go home was not confined to wayward men. The hall +was at present occupied by two deplorably sober men and their highly +indignant wives. The wives were sympathizing with each other in +slightly raised voices. + +“Whenever he sees I’m having a good time he wants to go home.” + +“Never heard anything so selfish in my life.” + +“We’re always the first ones to leave.” + +“So are we.” + +“Well, we’re almost the last tonight,” said one of the men sheepishly. +“The orchestra left half an hour ago.” + +In spite of the wives’ agreement that such malevolence was beyond +credibility, the dispute ended in a short struggle, and both wives +were lifted, kicking, into the night. + +As I waited for my hat in the hall the door of the library opened and +Jordan Baker and Gatsby came out together. He was saying some last +word to her, but the eagerness in his manner tightened abruptly into +formality as several people approached him to say goodbye. + +Jordan’s party were calling impatiently to her from the porch, but she +lingered for a moment to shake hands. + +“I’ve just heard the most amazing thing,” she whispered. “How long +were we in there?” + +“Why, about an hour.” + +“It was … simply amazing,” she repeated abstractedly. “But I swore I +wouldn’t tell it and here I am tantalizing you.” She yawned gracefully +in my face. “Please come and see me … Phone book … Under the name of +Mrs. Sigourney Howard … My aunt …” She was hurrying off as she +talked—her brown hand waved a jaunty salute as she melted into her +party at the door. + +Rather ashamed that on my first appearance I had stayed so late, I +joined the last of Gatsby’s guests, who were clustered around him. I +wanted to explain that I’d hunted for him early in the evening and to +apologize for not having known him in the garden. + +“Don’t mention it,” he enjoined me eagerly. “Don’t give it another +thought, old sport.” The familiar expression held no more familiarity +than the hand which reassuringly brushed my shoulder. “And don’t +forget we’re going up in the hydroplane tomorrow morning, at nine +o’clock.” + +Then the butler, behind his shoulder: + +“Philadelphia wants you on the phone, sir.” + +“All right, in a minute. Tell them I’ll be right there … Good night.” + +“Good night.” + +“Good night.” He smiled—and suddenly there seemed to be a pleasant +significance in having been among the last to go, as if he had desired +it all the time. “Good night, old sport … Good night.” + +But as I walked down the steps I saw that the evening was not quite +over. Fifty feet from the door a dozen headlights illuminated a +bizarre and tumultuous scene. In the ditch beside the road, right side +up, but violently shorn of one wheel, rested a new coupé which had +left Gatsby’s drive not two minutes before. The sharp jut of a wall +accounted for the detachment of the wheel, which was now getting +considerable attention from half a dozen curious chauffeurs. However, +as they had left their cars blocking the road, a harsh, discordant din +from those in the rear had been audible for some time, and added to +the already violent confusion of the scene. + +A man in a long duster had dismounted from the wreck and now stood in +the middle of the road, looking from the car to the tyre and from the +tyre to the observers in a pleasant, puzzled way. + +“See!” he explained. “It went in the ditch.” + +The fact was infinitely astonishing to him, and I recognized first the +unusual quality of wonder, and then the man—it was the late patron of +Gatsby’s library. + +“How’d it happen?” + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +“I know nothing whatever about mechanics,” he said decisively. + +“But how did it happen? Did you run into the wall?” + +“Don’t ask me,” said Owl Eyes, washing his hands of the whole +matter. “I know very little about driving—next to nothing. It +happened, and that’s all I know.” + +“Well, if you’re a poor driver you oughtn’t to try driving at night.” + +“But I wasn’t even trying,” he explained indignantly, “I wasn’t even +trying.” + +An awed hush fell upon the bystanders. + +“Do you want to commit suicide?” + +“You’re lucky it was just a wheel! A bad driver and not even trying!” + +“You don’t understand,” explained the criminal. “I wasn’t driving. +There’s another man in the car.” + +The shock that followed this declaration found voice in a sustained +“Ah-h-h!” as the door of the coupé swung slowly open. The crowd—it was +now a crowd—stepped back involuntarily, and when the door had opened +wide there was a ghostly pause. Then, very gradually, part by part, a +pale, dangling individual stepped out of the wreck, pawing tentatively +at the ground with a large uncertain dancing shoe. + +Blinded by the glare of the headlights and confused by the incessant +groaning of the horns, the apparition stood swaying for a moment +before he perceived the man in the duster. + +“Wha’s matter?” he inquired calmly. “Did we run outa gas?” + +“Look!” + +Half a dozen fingers pointed at the amputated wheel—he stared at it +for a moment, and then looked upward as though he suspected that it +had dropped from the sky. + +“It came off,” someone explained. + +He nodded. + +“At first I din’ notice we’d stopped.” + +A pause. Then, taking a long breath and straightening his shoulders, +he remarked in a determined voice: + +“Wonder’ff tell me where there’s a gas’line station?” + +At least a dozen men, some of them a little better off than he was, +explained to him that wheel and car were no longer joined by any +physical bond. + +“Back out,” he suggested after a moment. “Put her in reverse.” + +“But the wheel’s off!” + +He hesitated. + +“No harm in trying,” he said. + +The caterwauling horns had reached a crescendo and I turned away and +cut across the lawn toward home. I glanced back once. A wafer of a +moon was shining over Gatsby’s house, making the night fine as before, +and surviving the laughter and the sound of his still glowing garden. +A sudden emptiness seemed to flow now from the windows and the great +doors, endowing with complete isolation the figure of the host, who +stood on the porch, his hand up in a formal gesture of farewell. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Reading over what I have written so far, I see I have given the +impression that the events of three nights several weeks apart were +all that absorbed me. On the contrary, they were merely casual events +in a crowded summer, and, until much later, they absorbed me +infinitely less than my personal affairs. + +Most of the time I worked. In the early morning the sun threw my +shadow westward as I hurried down the white chasms of lower New York +to the Probity Trust. I knew the other clerks and young bond-salesmen +by their first names, and lunched with them in dark, crowded +restaurants on little pig sausages and mashed potatoes and coffee. I +even had a short affair with a girl who lived in Jersey City and +worked in the accounting department, but her brother began throwing +mean looks in my direction, so when she went on her vacation in July I +let it blow quietly away. + +I took dinner usually at the Yale Club—for some reason it was the +gloomiest event of my day—and then I went upstairs to the library and +studied investments and securities for a conscientious hour. There +were generally a few rioters around, but they never came into the +library, so it was a good place to work. After that, if the night was +mellow, I strolled down Madison Avenue past the old Murray Hill Hotel, +and over 33rd Street to the Pennsylvania Station. + +I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, +and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and +machines gives to the restless eye. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue +and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few +minutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would ever +know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their +apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and +smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm +darkness. At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting +loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others—poor young clerks who +loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary +restaurant dinner—young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant +moments of night and life. + +Again at eight o’clock, when the dark lanes of the Forties were lined +five deep with throbbing taxicabs, bound for the theatre district, I +felt a sinking in my heart. Forms leaned together in the taxis as they +waited, and voices sang, and there was laughter from unheard jokes, +and lighted cigarettes made unintelligible circles inside. Imagining +that I, too, was hurrying towards gaiety and sharing their intimate +excitement, I wished them well. + +For a while I lost sight of Jordan Baker, and then in midsummer I +found her again. At first I was flattered to go places with her, +because she was a golf champion, and everyone knew her name. Then it +was something more. I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of +tender curiosity. The bored haughty face that she turned to the world +concealed something—most affectations conceal something eventually, +even though they don’t in the beginning—and one day I found what it +was. When we were on a house-party together up in Warwick, she left a +borrowed car out in the rain with the top down, and then lied about +it—and suddenly I remembered the story about her that had eluded me +that night at Daisy’s. At her first big golf tournament there was a +row that nearly reached the newspapers—a suggestion that she had moved +her ball from a bad lie in the semifinal round. The thing approached +the proportions of a scandal—then died away. A caddy retracted his +statement, and the only other witness admitted that he might have been +mistaken. The incident and the name had remained together in my mind. + +Jordan Baker instinctively avoided clever, shrewd men, and now I saw +that this was because she felt safer on a plane where any divergence +from a code would be thought impossible. She was incurably dishonest. +She wasn’t able to endure being at a disadvantage and, given this +unwillingness, I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when she +was very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to +the world and yet satisfy the demands of her hard, jaunty body. + +It made no difference to me. Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you +never blame deeply—I was casually sorry, and then I forgot. It was on +that same house-party that we had a curious conversation about driving +a car. It started because she passed so close to some workmen that our +fender flicked a button on one man’s coat. + +“You’re a rotten driver,” I protested. “Either you ought to be more +careful, or you oughtn’t to drive at all.” + +“I am careful.” + +“No, you’re not.” + +“Well, other people are,” she said lightly. + +“What’s that got to do with it?” + +“They’ll keep out of my way,” she insisted. “It takes two to make an +accident.” + +“Suppose you met somebody just as careless as yourself.” + +“I hope I never will,” she answered. “I hate careless people. That’s +why I like you.” + +Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she had +deliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I loved +her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as +brakes on my desires, and I knew that first I had to get myself +definitely out of that tangle back home. I’d been writing letters once +a week and signing them: “Love, Nick,” and all I could think of was +how, when that certain girl played tennis, a faint moustache of +perspiration appeared on her upper lip. Nevertheless there was a vague +understanding that had to be tactfully broken off before I was free. + +Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and +this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever +known. + + + IV + +On Sunday morning while church bells rang in the villages alongshore, +the world and its mistress returned to Gatsby’s house and twinkled +hilariously on his lawn. + +“He’s a bootlegger,” said the young ladies, moving somewhere between +his cocktails and his flowers. “One time he killed a man who had found +out that he was nephew to Von Hindenburg and second cousin to the +devil. Reach me a rose, honey, and pour me a last drop into that there +crystal glass.” + +Once I wrote down on the empty spaces of a timetable the names of +those who came to Gatsby’s house that summer. It is an old timetable +now, disintegrating at its folds, and headed “This schedule in effect +July 5th, 1922.” But I can still read the grey names, and they will +give you a better impression than my generalities of those who +accepted Gatsby’s hospitality and paid him the subtle tribute of +knowing nothing whatever about him. + +From East Egg, then, came the Chester Beckers and the Leeches, and a +man named Bunsen, whom I knew at Yale, and Doctor Webster Civet, who +was drowned last summer up in Maine. And the Hornbeams and the Willie +Voltaires, and a whole clan named Blackbuck, who always gathered in a +corner and flipped up their noses like goats at whosoever came +near. And the Ismays and the Chrysties (or rather Hubert Auerbach and +Mr. Chrystie’s wife), and Edgar Beaver, whose hair, they say, turned +cotton-white one winter afternoon for no good reason at all. + +Clarence Endive was from East Egg, as I remember. He came only once, +in white knickerbockers, and had a fight with a bum named Etty in the +garden. From farther out on the Island came the Cheadles and the O. +R. P. Schraeders, and the Stonewall Jackson Abrams of Georgia, and the +Fishguards and the Ripley Snells. Snell was there three days before he +went to the penitentiary, so drunk out on the gravel drive that +Mrs. Ulysses Swett’s automobile ran over his right hand. The Dancies +came, too, and S. B. Whitebait, who was well over sixty, and Maurice +A. Flink, and the Hammerheads, and Beluga the tobacco importer, and +Beluga’s girls. + +From West Egg came the Poles and the Mulreadys and Cecil Roebuck and +Cecil Schoen and Gulick the State senator and Newton Orchid, who +controlled Films Par Excellence, and Eckhaust and Clyde Cohen and Don +S. Schwartz (the son) and Arthur McCarty, all connected with the +movies in one way or another. And the Catlips and the Bembergs and G. +Earl Muldoon, brother to that Muldoon who afterward strangled his +wife. Da Fontano the promoter came there, and Ed Legros and James B. +(“Rot-Gut”) Ferret and the De Jongs and Ernest Lilly—they came to +gamble, and when Ferret wandered into the garden it meant he was +cleaned out and Associated Traction would have to fluctuate profitably +next day. + +A man named Klipspringer was there so often that he became known as +“the boarder”—I doubt if he had any other home. Of theatrical people +there were Gus Waize and Horace O’Donavan and Lester Myer and George +Duckweed and Francis Bull. Also from New York were the Chromes and the +Backhyssons and the Dennickers and Russel Betty and the Corrigans and +the Kellehers and the Dewars and the Scullys and S. W. Belcher and the +Smirkes and the young Quinns, divorced now, and Henry L. Palmetto, who +killed himself by jumping in front of a subway train in Times Square. + +Benny McClenahan arrived always with four girls. They were never quite +the same ones in physical person, but they were so identical one with +another that it inevitably seemed they had been there before. I have +forgotten their names—Jaqueline, I think, or else Consuela, or Gloria +or Judy or June, and their last names were either the melodious names +of flowers and months or the sterner ones of the great American +capitalists whose cousins, if pressed, they would confess themselves +to be. + +In addition to all these I can remember that Faustina O’Brien came +there at least once and the Baedeker girls and young Brewer, who had +his nose shot off in the war, and Mr. Albrucksburger and Miss Haag, +his fiancée, and Ardita Fitz-Peters and Mr. P. Jewett, once head of +the American Legion, and Miss Claudia Hip, with a man reputed to be +her chauffeur, and a prince of something, whom we called Duke, and +whose name, if I ever knew it, I have forgotten. + +All these people came to Gatsby’s house in the summer. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +At nine o’clock, one morning late in July, Gatsby’s gorgeous car +lurched up the rocky drive to my door and gave out a burst of melody +from its three-noted horn. + +It was the first time he had called on me, though I had gone to two of +his parties, mounted in his hydroplane, and, at his urgent invitation, +made frequent use of his beach. + +“Good morning, old sport. You’re having lunch with me today and I +thought we’d ride up together.” + +He was balancing himself on the dashboard of his car with that +resourcefulness of movement that is so peculiarly American—that comes, +I suppose, with the absence of lifting work in youth and, even more, +with the formless grace of our nervous, sporadic games. This quality +was continually breaking through his punctilious manner in the shape +of restlessness. He was never quite still; there was always a tapping +foot somewhere or the impatient opening and closing of a hand. + +He saw me looking with admiration at his car. + +“It’s pretty, isn’t it, old sport?” He jumped off to give me a better +view. “Haven’t you ever seen it before?” + +I’d seen it. Everybody had seen it. It was a rich cream colour, bright +with nickel, swollen here and there in its monstrous length with +triumphant hatboxes and supper-boxes and toolboxes, and terraced with +a labyrinth of windshields that mirrored a dozen suns. Sitting down +behind many layers of glass in a sort of green leather conservatory, +we started to town. + +I had talked with him perhaps half a dozen times in the past month and +found, to my disappointment, that he had little to say. So my first +impression, that he was a person of some undefined consequence, had +gradually faded and he had become simply the proprietor of an +elaborate roadhouse next door. + +And then came that disconcerting ride. We hadn’t reached West Egg +village before Gatsby began leaving his elegant sentences unfinished +and slapping himself indecisively on the knee of his caramel-coloured +suit. + +“Look here, old sport,” he broke out surprisingly, “what’s your +opinion of me, anyhow?” + +A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that +question deserves. + +“Well, I’m going to tell you something about my life,” he interrupted. +“I don’t want you to get a wrong idea of me from all these stories you +hear.” + +So he was aware of the bizarre accusations that flavoured conversation +in his halls. + +“I’ll tell you God’s truth.” His right hand suddenly ordered divine +retribution to stand by. “I am the son of some wealthy people in the +Middle West—all dead now. I was brought up in America but educated at +Oxford, because all my ancestors have been educated there for many +years. It is a family tradition.” + +He looked at me sideways—and I knew why Jordan Baker had believed he +was lying. He hurried the phrase “educated at Oxford,” or swallowed +it, or choked on it, as though it had bothered him before. And with +this doubt, his whole statement fell to pieces, and I wondered if +there wasn’t something a little sinister about him, after all. + +“What part of the Middle West?” I inquired casually. + +“San Francisco.” + +“I see.” + +“My family all died and I came into a good deal of money.” + +His voice was solemn, as if the memory of that sudden extinction of a +clan still haunted him. For a moment I suspected that he was pulling +my leg, but a glance at him convinced me otherwise. + +“After that I lived like a young rajah in all the capitals of +Europe—Paris, Venice, Rome—collecting jewels, chiefly rubies, hunting +big game, painting a little, things for myself only, and trying to +forget something very sad that had happened to me long ago.” + +With an effort I managed to restrain my incredulous laughter. The very +phrases were worn so threadbare that they evoked no image except that +of a turbaned “character” leaking sawdust at every pore as he pursued +a tiger through the Bois de Boulogne. + +“Then came the war, old sport. It was a great relief, and I tried very +hard to die, but I seemed to bear an enchanted life. I accepted a +commission as first lieutenant when it began. In the Argonne Forest I +took the remains of my machine-gun battalion so far forward that there +was a half mile gap on either side of us where the infantry couldn’t +advance. We stayed there two days and two nights, a hundred and thirty +men with sixteen Lewis guns, and when the infantry came up at last +they found the insignia of three German divisions among the piles of +dead. I was promoted to be a major, and every Allied government gave +me a decoration—even Montenegro, little Montenegro down on the +Adriatic Sea!” + +Little Montenegro! He lifted up the words and nodded at them—with his +smile. The smile comprehended Montenegro’s troubled history and +sympathized with the brave struggles of the Montenegrin people. It +appreciated fully the chain of national circumstances which had +elicited this tribute from Montenegro’s warm little heart. My +incredulity was submerged in fascination now; it was like skimming +hastily through a dozen magazines. + +He reached in his pocket, and a piece of metal, slung on a ribbon, +fell into my palm. + +“That’s the one from Montenegro.” + +To my astonishment, the thing had an authentic look. “Orderi di +Danilo,” ran the circular legend, “Montenegro, Nicolas Rex.” + +“Turn it.” + +“Major Jay Gatsby,” I read, “For Valour Extraordinary.” + +“Here’s another thing I always carry. A souvenir of Oxford days. It +was taken in Trinity Quad—the man on my left is now the Earl of +Doncaster.” + +It was a photograph of half a dozen young men in blazers loafing in an +archway through which were visible a host of spires. There was Gatsby, +looking a little, not much, younger—with a cricket bat in his hand. + +Then it was all true. I saw the skins of tigers flaming in his palace +on the Grand Canal; I saw him opening a chest of rubies to ease, with +their crimson-lighted depths, the gnawings of his broken heart. + +“I’m going to make a big request of you today,” he said, pocketing his +souvenirs with satisfaction, “so I thought you ought to know something +about me. I didn’t want you to think I was just some nobody. You see, +I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there +trying to forget the sad things that happened to me.” He hesitated. +“You’ll hear about it this afternoon.” + +“At lunch?” + +“No, this afternoon. I happened to find out that you’re taking Miss +Baker to tea.” + +“Do you mean you’re in love with Miss Baker?” + +“No, old sport, I’m not. But Miss Baker has kindly consented to speak +to you about this matter.” + +I hadn’t the faintest idea what “this matter” was, but I was more +annoyed than interested. I hadn’t asked Jordan to tea in order to +discuss Mr. Jay Gatsby. I was sure the request would be something +utterly fantastic, and for a moment I was sorry I’d ever set foot upon +his overpopulated lawn. + +He wouldn’t say another word. His correctness grew on him as we neared +the city. We passed Port Roosevelt, where there was a glimpse of +red-belted oceangoing ships, and sped along a cobbled slum lined with +the dark, undeserted saloons of the faded-gilt nineteen-hundreds. +Then the valley of ashes opened out on both sides of us, and I had a +glimpse of Mrs. Wilson straining at the garage pump with panting +vitality as we went by. + +With fenders spread like wings we scattered light through half +Astoria—only half, for as we twisted among the pillars of the elevated +I heard the familiar “jug-jug-spat!” of a motorcycle, and a frantic +policeman rode alongside. + +“All right, old sport,” called Gatsby. We slowed down. Taking a white +card from his wallet, he waved it before the man’s eyes. + +“Right you are,” agreed the policeman, tipping his cap. “Know you next +time, Mr. Gatsby. Excuse me!” + +“What was that?” I inquired. “The picture of Oxford?” + +“I was able to do the commissioner a favour once, and he sends me a +Christmas card every year.” + +Over the great bridge, with the sunlight through the girders making a +constant flicker upon the moving cars, with the city rising up across +the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a wish out of +nonolfactory money. The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always +the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the +mystery and the beauty in the world. + +A dead man passed us in a hearse heaped with blooms, followed by two +carriages with drawn blinds, and by more cheerful carriages for +friends. The friends looked out at us with the tragic eyes and short +upper lips of southeastern Europe, and I was glad that the sight of +Gatsby’s splendid car was included in their sombre holiday. As we +crossed Blackwell’s Island a limousine passed us, driven by a white +chauffeur, in which sat three modish negroes, two bucks and a girl. I +laughed aloud as the yolks of their eyeballs rolled toward us in +haughty rivalry. + +“Anything can happen now that we’ve slid over this bridge,” I thought; +“anything at all …” + +Even Gatsby could happen, without any particular wonder. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Roaring noon. In a well-fanned Forty-second Street cellar I met Gatsby +for lunch. Blinking away the brightness of the street outside, my eyes +picked him out obscurely in the anteroom, talking to another man. + +“Mr. Carraway, this is my friend Mr. Wolfshiem.” + +A small, flat-nosed Jew raised his large head and regarded me with two +fine growths of hair which luxuriated in either nostril. After a +moment I discovered his tiny eyes in the half-darkness. + +“—So I took one look at him,” said Mr. Wolfshiem, shaking my hand +earnestly, “and what do you think I did?” + +“What?” I inquired politely. + +But evidently he was not addressing me, for he dropped my hand and +covered Gatsby with his expressive nose. + +“I handed the money to Katspaugh and I said: ‘All right, Katspaugh, +don’t pay him a penny till he shuts his mouth.’ He shut it then and +there.” + +Gatsby took an arm of each of us and moved forward into the +restaurant, whereupon Mr. Wolfshiem swallowed a new sentence he was +starting and lapsed into a somnambulatory abstraction. + +“Highballs?” asked the head waiter. + +“This is a nice restaurant here,” said Mr. Wolfshiem, looking at the +presbyterian nymphs on the ceiling. “But I like across the street +better!” + +“Yes, highballs,” agreed Gatsby, and then to Mr. Wolfshiem: “It’s too +hot over there.” + +“Hot and small—yes,” said Mr. Wolfshiem, “but full of memories.” + +“What place is that?” I asked. + +“The old Metropole.” + +“The old Metropole,” brooded Mr. Wolfshiem gloomily. “Filled with +faces dead and gone. Filled with friends gone now forever. I can’t +forget so long as I live the night they shot Rosy Rosenthal there. It +was six of us at the table, and Rosy had eat and drunk a lot all +evening. When it was almost morning the waiter came up to him with a +funny look and says somebody wants to speak to him outside. ‘All +right,’ says Rosy, and begins to get up, and I pulled him down in his +chair. + +“ ‘Let the bastards come in here if they want you, Rosy, but don’t +you, so help me, move outside this room.’ + +“It was four o’clock in the morning then, and if we’d of raised the +blinds we’d of seen daylight.” + +“Did he go?” I asked innocently. + +“Sure he went.” Mr. Wolfshiem’s nose flashed at me indignantly. “He +turned around in the door and says: ‘Don’t let that waiter take away +my coffee!’ Then he went out on the sidewalk, and they shot him three +times in his full belly and drove away.” + +“Four of them were electrocuted,” I said, remembering. + +“Five, with Becker.” His nostrils turned to me in an interested way. +“I understand you’re looking for a business gonnegtion.” + +The juxtaposition of these two remarks was startling. Gatsby answered +for me: + +“Oh, no,” he exclaimed, “this isn’t the man.” + +“No?” Mr. Wolfshiem seemed disappointed. + +“This is just a friend. I told you we’d talk about that some other +time.” + +“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Wolfshiem, “I had a wrong man.” + +A succulent hash arrived, and Mr. Wolfshiem, forgetting the more +sentimental atmosphere of the old Metropole, began to eat with +ferocious delicacy. His eyes, meanwhile, roved very slowly all around +the room—he completed the arc by turning to inspect the people +directly behind. I think that, except for my presence, he would have +taken one short glance beneath our own table. + +“Look here, old sport,” said Gatsby, leaning toward me, “I’m afraid I +made you a little angry this morning in the car.” + +There was the smile again, but this time I held out against it. + +“I don’t like mysteries,” I answered, “and I don’t understand why you +won’t come out frankly and tell me what you want. Why has it all got +to come through Miss Baker?” + +“Oh, it’s nothing underhand,” he assured me. “Miss Baker’s a great +sportswoman, you know, and she’d never do anything that wasn’t all +right.” + +Suddenly he looked at his watch, jumped up, and hurried from the room, +leaving me with Mr. Wolfshiem at the table. + +“He has to telephone,” said Mr. Wolfshiem, following him with his +eyes. “Fine fellow, isn’t he? Handsome to look at and a perfect +gentleman.” + +“Yes.” + +“He’s an Oggsford man.” + +“Oh!” + +“He went to Oggsford College in England. You know Oggsford College?” + +“I’ve heard of it.” + +“It’s one of the most famous colleges in the world.” + +“Have you known Gatsby for a long time?” I inquired. + +“Several years,” he answered in a gratified way. “I made the pleasure +of his acquaintance just after the war. But I knew I had discovered a +man of fine breeding after I talked with him an hour. I said to +myself: ‘There’s the kind of man you’d like to take home and introduce +to your mother and sister.’ ” He paused. “I see you’re looking at my +cuff buttons.” + +I hadn’t been looking at them, but I did now. They were composed of +oddly familiar pieces of ivory. + +“Finest specimens of human molars,” he informed me. + +“Well!” I inspected them. “That’s a very interesting idea.” + +“Yeah.” He flipped his sleeves up under his coat. “Yeah, Gatsby’s very +careful about women. He would never so much as look at a friend’s +wife.” + +When the subject of this instinctive trust returned to the table and +sat down Mr. Wolfshiem drank his coffee with a jerk and got to his +feet. + +“I have enjoyed my lunch,” he said, “and I’m going to run off from you +two young men before I outstay my welcome.” + +“Don’t hurry Meyer,” said Gatsby, without enthusiasm. Mr. Wolfshiem +raised his hand in a sort of benediction. + +“You’re very polite, but I belong to another generation,” he announced +solemnly. “You sit here and discuss your sports and your young ladies +and your—” He supplied an imaginary noun with another wave of his +hand. “As for me, I am fifty years old, and I won’t impose myself on +you any longer.” + +As he shook hands and turned away his tragic nose was trembling. I +wondered if I had said anything to offend him. + +“He becomes very sentimental sometimes,” explained Gatsby. “This is +one of his sentimental days. He’s quite a character around New York—a +denizen of Broadway.” + +“Who is he, anyhow, an actor?” + +“No.” + +“A dentist?” + +“Meyer Wolfshiem? No, he’s a gambler.” Gatsby hesitated, then added, +coolly: “He’s the man who fixed the World’s Series back in 1919.” + +“Fixed the World’s Series?” I repeated. + +The idea staggered me. I remembered, of course, that the World’s +Series had been fixed in 1919, but if I had thought of it at all I +would have thought of it as a thing that merely happened, the end of +some inevitable chain. It never occurred to me that one man could +start to play with the faith of fifty million people—with the +single-mindedness of a burglar blowing a safe. + +“How did he happen to do that?” I asked after a minute. + +“He just saw the opportunity.” + +“Why isn’t he in jail?” + +“They can’t get him, old sport. He’s a smart man.” + +I insisted on paying the check. As the waiter brought my change I +caught sight of Tom Buchanan across the crowded room. + +“Come along with me for a minute,” I said; “I’ve got to say hello to +someone.” + +When he saw us Tom jumped up and took half a dozen steps in our +direction. + +“Where’ve you been?” he demanded eagerly. “Daisy’s furious because you +haven’t called up.” + +“This is Mr. Gatsby, Mr. Buchanan.” + +They shook hands briefly, and a strained, unfamiliar look of +embarrassment came over Gatsby’s face. + +“How’ve you been, anyhow?” demanded Tom of me. “How’d you happen to +come up this far to eat?” + +“I’ve been having lunch with Mr. Gatsby.” + +I turned toward Mr. Gatsby, but he was no longer there. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +One October day in nineteen-seventeen— + +(said Jordan Baker that afternoon, sitting up very straight on a +straight chair in the tea-garden at the Plaza Hotel) + +—I was walking along from one place to another, half on the sidewalks +and half on the lawns. I was happier on the lawns because I had on +shoes from England with rubber knobs on the soles that bit into the +soft ground. I had on a new plaid skirt also that blew a little in the +wind, and whenever this happened the red, white, and blue banners in +front of all the houses stretched out stiff and said tut-tut-tut-tut, +in a disapproving way. + +The largest of the banners and the largest of the lawns belonged to +Daisy Fay’s house. She was just eighteen, two years older than me, and +by far the most popular of all the young girls in Louisville. She +dressed in white, and had a little white roadster, and all day long +the telephone rang in her house and excited young officers from Camp +Taylor demanded the privilege of monopolizing her that +night. “Anyways, for an hour!” + +When I came opposite her house that morning her white roadster was +beside the kerb, and she was sitting in it with a lieutenant I had +never seen before. They were so engrossed in each other that she +didn’t see me until I was five feet away. + +“Hello, Jordan,” she called unexpectedly. “Please come here.” + +I was flattered that she wanted to speak to me, because of all the +older girls I admired her most. She asked me if I was going to the Red +Cross to make bandages. I was. Well, then, would I tell them that she +couldn’t come that day? The officer looked at Daisy while she was +speaking, in a way that every young girl wants to be looked at +sometime, and because it seemed romantic to me I have remembered the +incident ever since. His name was Jay Gatsby, and I didn’t lay eyes on +him again for over four years—even after I’d met him on Long Island I +didn’t realize it was the same man. + +That was nineteen-seventeen. By the next year I had a few beaux +myself, and I began to play in tournaments, so I didn’t see Daisy very +often. She went with a slightly older crowd—when she went with anyone +at all. Wild rumours were circulating about her—how her mother had +found her packing her bag one winter night to go to New York and say +goodbye to a soldier who was going overseas. She was effectually +prevented, but she wasn’t on speaking terms with her family for +several weeks. After that she didn’t play around with the soldiers any +more, but only with a few flat-footed, shortsighted young men in town, +who couldn’t get into the army at all. + +By the next autumn she was gay again, gay as ever. She had a début +after the armistice, and in February she was presumably engaged to a +man from New Orleans. In June she married Tom Buchanan of Chicago, +with more pomp and circumstance than Louisville ever knew before. He +came down with a hundred people in four private cars, and hired a +whole floor of the Muhlbach Hotel, and the day before the wedding he +gave her a string of pearls valued at three hundred and fifty thousand +dollars. + +I was a bridesmaid. I came into her room half an hour before the +bridal dinner, and found her lying on her bed as lovely as the June +night in her flowered dress—and as drunk as a monkey. She had a bottle +of Sauterne in one hand and a letter in the other. + +“ ’Gratulate me,” she muttered. “Never had a drink before, but oh how +I do enjoy it.” + +“What’s the matter, Daisy?” + +I was scared, I can tell you; I’d never seen a girl like that before. + +“Here, dearies.” She groped around in a wastebasket she had with her +on the bed and pulled out the string of pearls. “Take ’em downstairs +and give ’em back to whoever they belong to. Tell ’em all Daisy’s +change’ her mine. Say: ‘Daisy’s change’ her mine!’ ” + +She began to cry—she cried and cried. I rushed out and found her +mother’s maid, and we locked the door and got her into a cold bath. +She wouldn’t let go of the letter. She took it into the tub with her +and squeezed it up in a wet ball, and only let me leave it in the +soap-dish when she saw that it was coming to pieces like snow. + +But she didn’t say another word. We gave her spirits of ammonia and +put ice on her forehead and hooked her back into her dress, and half +an hour later, when we walked out of the room, the pearls were around +her neck and the incident was over. Next day at five o’clock she +married Tom Buchanan without so much as a shiver, and started off on a +three months’ trip to the South Seas. + +I saw them in Santa Barbara when they came back, and I thought I’d +never seen a girl so mad about her husband. If he left the room for a +minute she’d look around uneasily, and say: “Where’s Tom gone?” and +wear the most abstracted expression until she saw him coming in the +door. She used to sit on the sand with his head in her lap by the +hour, rubbing her fingers over his eyes and looking at him with +unfathomable delight. It was touching to see them together—it made you +laugh in a hushed, fascinated way. That was in August. A week after I +left Santa Barbara Tom ran into a wagon on the Ventura road one night, +and ripped a front wheel off his car. The girl who was with him got +into the papers, too, because her arm was broken—she was one of the +chambermaids in the Santa Barbara Hotel. + +The next April Daisy had her little girl, and they went to France for +a year. I saw them one spring in Cannes, and later in Deauville, and +then they came back to Chicago to settle down. Daisy was popular in +Chicago, as you know. They moved with a fast crowd, all of them young +and rich and wild, but she came out with an absolutely perfect +reputation. Perhaps because she doesn’t drink. It’s a great advantage +not to drink among hard-drinking people. You can hold your tongue and, +moreover, you can time any little irregularity of your own so that +everybody else is so blind that they don’t see or care. Perhaps Daisy +never went in for amour at all—and yet there’s something in that voice +of hers … + +Well, about six weeks ago, she heard the name Gatsby for the first +time in years. It was when I asked you—do you remember?—if you knew +Gatsby in West Egg. After you had gone home she came into my room and +woke me up, and said: “What Gatsby?” and when I described him—I was +half asleep—she said in the strangest voice that it must be the man +she used to know. It wasn’t until then that I connected this Gatsby +with the officer in her white car. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +When Jordan Baker had finished telling all this we had left the Plaza +for half an hour and were driving in a victoria through Central Park. +The sun had gone down behind the tall apartments of the movie stars in +the West Fifties, and the clear voices of children, already gathered +like crickets on the grass, rose through the hot twilight: + + “I’m the Sheik of Araby. Your love belongs to me. At night when + you’re asleep Into your tent I’ll creep—” + +“It was a strange coincidence,” I said. + +“But it wasn’t a coincidence at all.” + +“Why not?” + +“Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay.” + +Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired on that +June night. He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of +his purposeless splendour. + +“He wants to know,” continued Jordan, “if you’ll invite Daisy to your +house some afternoon and then let him come over.” + +The modesty of the demand shook me. He had waited five years and +bought a mansion where he dispensed starlight to casual moths—so that +he could “come over” some afternoon to a stranger’s garden. + +“Did I have to know all this before he could ask such a little thing?” + +“He’s afraid, he’s waited so long. He thought you might be +offended. You see, he’s regular tough underneath it all.” + +Something worried me. + +“Why didn’t he ask you to arrange a meeting?” + +“He wants her to see his house,” she explained. “And your house is +right next door.” + +“Oh!” + +“I think he half expected her to wander into one of his parties, some +night,” went on Jordan, “but she never did. Then he began asking +people casually if they knew her, and I was the first one he found. It +was that night he sent for me at his dance, and you should have heard +the elaborate way he worked up to it. Of course, I immediately +suggested a luncheon in New York—and I thought he’d go mad: + +“ ‘I don’t want to do anything out of the way!’ he kept saying. ‘I +want to see her right next door.’ + +“When I said you were a particular friend of Tom’s, he started to +abandon the whole idea. He doesn’t know very much about Tom, though he +says he’s read a Chicago paper for years just on the chance of +catching a glimpse of Daisy’s name.” + +It was dark now, and as we dipped under a little bridge I put my arm +around Jordan’s golden shoulder and drew her toward me and asked her +to dinner. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking of Daisy and Gatsby any more, +but of this clean, hard, limited person, who dealt in universal +scepticism, and who leaned back jauntily just within the circle of my +arm. A phrase began to beat in my ears with a sort of heady +excitement: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and +the tired.” + +“And Daisy ought to have something in her life,” murmured Jordan to +me. + +“Does she want to see Gatsby?” + +“She’s not to know about it. Gatsby doesn’t want her to know. You’re +just supposed to invite her to tea.” + +We passed a barrier of dark trees, and then the façade of Fifty-Ninth +Street, a block of delicate pale light, beamed down into the park. +Unlike Gatsby and Tom Buchanan, I had no girl whose disembodied face +floated along the dark cornices and blinding signs, and so I drew up +the girl beside me, tightening my arms. Her wan, scornful mouth +smiled, and so I drew her up again closer, this time to my face. + + + V + +When I came home to West Egg that night I was afraid for a moment that +my house was on fire. Two o’clock and the whole corner of the +peninsula was blazing with light, which fell unreal on the shrubbery +and made thin elongating glints upon the roadside wires. Turning a +corner, I saw that it was Gatsby’s house, lit from tower to cellar. + +At first I thought it was another party, a wild rout that had resolved +itself into “hide-and-go-seek” or “sardines-in-the-box” with all the +house thrown open to the game. But there wasn’t a sound. Only wind in +the trees, which blew the wires and made the lights go off and on +again as if the house had winked into the darkness. As my taxi groaned +away I saw Gatsby walking toward me across his lawn. + +“Your place looks like the World’s Fair,” I said. + +“Does it?” He turned his eyes toward it absently. “I have been +glancing into some of the rooms. Let’s go to Coney Island, old +sport. In my car.” + +“It’s too late.” + +“Well, suppose we take a plunge in the swimming pool? I haven’t made +use of it all summer.” + +“I’ve got to go to bed.” + +“All right.” + +He waited, looking at me with suppressed eagerness. + +“I talked with Miss Baker,” I said after a moment. “I’m going to call +up Daisy tomorrow and invite her over here to tea.” + +“Oh, that’s all right,” he said carelessly. “I don’t want to put you +to any trouble.” + +“What day would suit you?” + +“What day would suit you?” he corrected me quickly. “I don’t want to +put you to any trouble, you see.” + +“How about the day after tomorrow?” + +He considered for a moment. Then, with reluctance: “I want to get the +grass cut,” he said. + +We both looked down at the grass—there was a sharp line where my +ragged lawn ended and the darker, well-kept expanse of his began. I +suspected that he meant my grass. + +“There’s another little thing,” he said uncertainly, and hesitated. + +“Would you rather put it off for a few days?” I asked. + +“Oh, it isn’t about that. At least—” He fumbled with a series of +beginnings. “Why, I thought—why, look here, old sport, you don’t make +much money, do you?” + +“Not very much.” + +This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently. + +“I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my—you see, I carry on a +little business on the side, a sort of side line, you understand. And +I thought that if you don’t make very much—You’re selling bonds, +aren’t you, old sport?” + +“Trying to.” + +“Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time +and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather +confidential sort of thing.” + +I realize now that under different circumstances that conversation +might have been one of the crises of my life. But, because the offer +was obviously and tactlessly for a service to be rendered, I had no +choice except to cut him off there. + +“I’ve got my hands full,” I said. “I’m much obliged but I couldn’t +take on any more work.” + +“You wouldn’t have to do any business with Wolfshiem.” Evidently he +thought that I was shying away from the “gonnegtion” mentioned at +lunch, but I assured him he was wrong. He waited a moment longer, +hoping I’d begin a conversation, but I was too absorbed to be +responsive, so he went unwillingly home. + +The evening had made me lightheaded and happy; I think I walked into a +deep sleep as I entered my front door. So I don’t know whether or not +Gatsby went to Coney Island, or for how many hours he “glanced into +rooms” while his house blazed gaudily on. I called up Daisy from the +office next morning, and invited her to come to tea. + +“Don’t bring Tom,” I warned her. + +“What?” + +“Don’t bring Tom.” + +“Who is ‘Tom’?” she asked innocently. + +The day agreed upon was pouring rain. At eleven o’clock a man in a +raincoat, dragging a lawn-mower, tapped at my front door and said that +Mr. Gatsby had sent him over to cut my grass. This reminded me that I +had forgotten to tell my Finn to come back, so I drove into West Egg +Village to search for her among soggy whitewashed alleys and to buy +some cups and lemons and flowers. + +The flowers were unnecessary, for at two o’clock a greenhouse arrived +from Gatsby’s, with innumerable receptacles to contain it. An hour +later the front door opened nervously, and Gatsby in a white flannel +suit, silver shirt, and gold-coloured tie, hurried in. He was pale, +and there were dark signs of sleeplessness beneath his eyes. + +“Is everything all right?” he asked immediately. + +“The grass looks fine, if that’s what you mean.” + +“What grass?” he inquired blankly. “Oh, the grass in the yard.” He +looked out the window at it, but, judging from his expression, I don’t +believe he saw a thing. + +“Looks very good,” he remarked vaguely. “One of the papers said they +thought the rain would stop about four. I think it was The +Journal. Have you got everything you need in the shape of—of tea?” + +I took him into the pantry, where he looked a little reproachfully at +the Finn. Together we scrutinized the twelve lemon cakes from the +delicatessen shop. + +“Will they do?” I asked. + +“Of course, of course! They’re fine!” and he added hollowly, “… old +sport.” + +The rain cooled about half-past three to a damp mist, through which +occasional thin drops swam like dew. Gatsby looked with vacant eyes +through a copy of Clay’s Economics, starting at the Finnish tread that +shook the kitchen floor, and peering towards the bleared windows from +time to time as if a series of invisible but alarming happenings were +taking place outside. Finally he got up and informed me, in an +uncertain voice, that he was going home. + +“Why’s that?” + +“Nobody’s coming to tea. It’s too late!” He looked at his watch as if +there was some pressing demand on his time elsewhere. “I can’t wait +all day.” + +“Don’t be silly; it’s just two minutes to four.” + +He sat down miserably, as if I had pushed him, and simultaneously +there was the sound of a motor turning into my lane. We both jumped +up, and, a little harrowed myself, I went out into the yard. + +Under the dripping bare lilac-trees a large open car was coming up the +drive. It stopped. Daisy’s face, tipped sideways beneath a +three-cornered lavender hat, looked out at me with a bright ecstatic +smile. + +“Is this absolutely where you live, my dearest one?” + +The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I +had to follow the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear +alone, before any words came through. A damp streak of hair lay like a +dash of blue paint across her cheek, and her hand was wet with +glistening drops as I took it to help her from the car. + +“Are you in love with me,” she said low in my ear, “or why did I have +to come alone?” + +“That’s the secret of Castle Rackrent. Tell your chauffeur to go far +away and spend an hour.” + +“Come back in an hour, Ferdie.” Then in a grave murmur: “His name is +Ferdie.” + +“Does the gasoline affect his nose?” + +“I don’t think so,” she said innocently. “Why?” + +We went in. To my overwhelming surprise the living-room was deserted. + +“Well, that’s funny,” I exclaimed. + +“What’s funny?” + +She turned her head as there was a light dignified knocking at the +front door. I went out and opened it. Gatsby, pale as death, with his +hands plunged like weights in his coat pockets, was standing in a +puddle of water glaring tragically into my eyes. + +With his hands still in his coat pockets he stalked by me into the +hall, turned sharply as if he were on a wire, and disappeared into the +living-room. It wasn’t a bit funny. Aware of the loud beating of my +own heart I pulled the door to against the increasing rain. + +For half a minute there wasn’t a sound. Then from the living-room I +heard a sort of choking murmur and part of a laugh, followed by +Daisy’s voice on a clear artificial note: + +“I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.” + +A pause; it endured horribly. I had nothing to do in the hall, so I +went into the room. + +Gatsby, his hands still in his pockets, was reclining against the +mantelpiece in a strained counterfeit of perfect ease, even of +boredom. His head leaned back so far that it rested against the face +of a defunct mantelpiece clock, and from this position his distraught +eyes stared down at Daisy, who was sitting, frightened but graceful, +on the edge of a stiff chair. + +“We’ve met before,” muttered Gatsby. His eyes glanced momentarily at +me, and his lips parted with an abortive attempt at a laugh. Luckily +the clock took this moment to tilt dangerously at the pressure of his +head, whereupon he turned and caught it with trembling fingers, and +set it back in place. Then he sat down, rigidly, his elbow on the arm +of the sofa and his chin in his hand. + +“I’m sorry about the clock,” he said. + +My own face had now assumed a deep tropical burn. I couldn’t muster up +a single commonplace out of the thousand in my head. + +“It’s an old clock,” I told them idiotically. + +I think we all believed for a moment that it had smashed in pieces on +the floor. + +“We haven’t met for many years,” said Daisy, her voice as +matter-of-fact as it could ever be. + +“Five years next November.” + +The automatic quality of Gatsby’s answer set us all back at least +another minute. I had them both on their feet with the desperate +suggestion that they help me make tea in the kitchen when the demoniac +Finn brought it in on a tray. + +Amid the welcome confusion of cups and cakes a certain physical +decency established itself. Gatsby got himself into a shadow and, +while Daisy and I talked, looked conscientiously from one to the other +of us with tense, unhappy eyes. However, as calmness wasn’t an end in +itself, I made an excuse at the first possible moment, and got to my +feet. + +“Where are you going?” demanded Gatsby in immediate alarm. + +“I’ll be back.” + +“I’ve got to speak to you about something before you go.” + +He followed me wildly into the kitchen, closed the door, and +whispered: “Oh, God!” in a miserable way. + +“What’s the matter?” + +“This is a terrible mistake,” he said, shaking his head from side to +side, “a terrible, terrible mistake.” + +“You’re just embarrassed, that’s all,” and luckily I added: “Daisy’s +embarrassed too.” + +“She’s embarrassed?” he repeated incredulously. + +“Just as much as you are.” + +“Don’t talk so loud.” + +“You’re acting like a little boy,” I broke out impatiently. “Not only +that, but you’re rude. Daisy’s sitting in there all alone.” + +He raised his hand to stop my words, looked at me with unforgettable +reproach, and, opening the door cautiously, went back into the other +room. + +I walked out the back way—just as Gatsby had when he had made his +nervous circuit of the house half an hour before—and ran for a huge +black knotted tree, whose massed leaves made a fabric against the +rain. Once more it was pouring, and my irregular lawn, well-shaved by +Gatsby’s gardener, abounded in small muddy swamps and prehistoric +marshes. There was nothing to look at from under the tree except +Gatsby’s enormous house, so I stared at it, like Kant at his church +steeple, for half an hour. A brewer had built it early in the “period” +craze, a decade before, and there was a story that he’d agreed to pay +five years’ taxes on all the neighbouring cottages if the owners would +have their roofs thatched with straw. Perhaps their refusal took the +heart out of his plan to Found a Family—he went into an immediate +decline. His children sold his house with the black wreath still on +the door. Americans, while willing, even eager, to be serfs, have +always been obstinate about being peasantry. + +After half an hour, the sun shone again, and the grocer’s automobile +rounded Gatsby’s drive with the raw material for his servants’ +dinner—I felt sure he wouldn’t eat a spoonful. A maid began opening +the upper windows of his house, appeared momentarily in each, and, +leaning from the large central bay, spat meditatively into the +garden. It was time I went back. While the rain continued it had +seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little +now and then with gusts of emotion. But in the new silence I felt that +silence had fallen within the house too. + +I went in—after making every possible noise in the kitchen, short of +pushing over the stove—but I don’t believe they heard a sound. They +were sitting at either end of the couch, looking at each other as if +some question had been asked, or was in the air, and every vestige of +embarrassment was gone. Daisy’s face was smeared with tears, and when +I came in she jumped up and began wiping at it with her handkerchief +before a mirror. But there was a change in Gatsby that was simply +confounding. He literally glowed; without a word or a gesture of +exultation a new well-being radiated from him and filled the little +room. + +“Oh, hello, old sport,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen me for years. I +thought for a moment he was going to shake hands. + +“It’s stopped raining.” + +“Has it?” When he realized what I was talking about, that there were +twinkle-bells of sunshine in the room, he smiled like a weather man, +like an ecstatic patron of recurrent light, and repeated the news to +Daisy. “What do you think of that? It’s stopped raining.” + +“I’m glad, Jay.” Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told +only of her unexpected joy. + +“I want you and Daisy to come over to my house,” he said, “I’d like to +show her around.” + +“You’re sure you want me to come?” + +“Absolutely, old sport.” + +Daisy went upstairs to wash her face—too late I thought with +humiliation of my towels—while Gatsby and I waited on the lawn. + +“My house looks well, doesn’t it?” he demanded. “See how the whole +front of it catches the light.” + +I agreed that it was splendid. + +“Yes.” His eyes went over it, every arched door and square tower. “It +took me just three years to earn the money that bought it.” + +“I thought you inherited your money.” + +“I did, old sport,” he said automatically, “but I lost most of it in +the big panic—the panic of the war.” + +I think he hardly knew what he was saying, for when I asked him what +business he was in he answered: “That’s my affair,” before he realized +that it wasn’t an appropriate reply. + +“Oh, I’ve been in several things,” he corrected himself. “I was in the +drug business and then I was in the oil business. But I’m not in +either one now.” He looked at me with more attention. “Do you mean +you’ve been thinking over what I proposed the other night?” + +Before I could answer, Daisy came out of the house and two rows of +brass buttons on her dress gleamed in the sunlight. + +“That huge place there?” she cried pointing. + +“Do you like it?” + +“I love it, but I don’t see how you live there all alone.” + +“I keep it always full of interesting people, night and day. People +who do interesting things. Celebrated people.” + +Instead of taking the shortcut along the Sound we went down to the +road and entered by the big postern. With enchanting murmurs Daisy +admired this aspect or that of the feudal silhouette against the sky, +admired the gardens, the sparkling odour of jonquils and the frothy +odour of hawthorn and plum blossoms and the pale gold odour of +kiss-me-at-the-gate. It was strange to reach the marble steps and find +no stir of bright dresses in and out the door, and hear no sound but +bird voices in the trees. + +And inside, as we wandered through Marie Antoinette music-rooms and +Restoration Salons, I felt that there were guests concealed behind +every couch and table, under orders to be breathlessly silent until we +had passed through. As Gatsby closed the door of “the Merton College +Library” I could have sworn I heard the owl-eyed man break into +ghostly laughter. + +We went upstairs, through period bedrooms swathed in rose and lavender +silk and vivid with new flowers, through dressing-rooms and poolrooms, +and bathrooms with sunken baths—intruding into one chamber where a +dishevelled man in pyjamas was doing liver exercises on the floor. It +was Mr. Klipspringer, the “boarder.” I had seen him wandering hungrily +about the beach that morning. Finally we came to Gatsby’s own +apartment, a bedroom and a bath, and an Adam’s study, where we sat +down and drank a glass of some Chartreuse he took from a cupboard in +the wall. + +He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued +everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew +from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes too, he stared around at his +possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding +presence none of it was any longer real. Once he nearly toppled down a +flight of stairs. + +His bedroom was the simplest room of all—except where the dresser was +garnished with a toilet set of pure dull gold. Daisy took the brush +with delight, and smoothed her hair, whereupon Gatsby sat down and +shaded his eyes and began to laugh. + +“It’s the funniest thing, old sport,” he said hilariously. “I +can’t—When I try to—” + +He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a +third. After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed +with wonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea so long, +dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to +speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, +he was running down like an over-wound clock. + +Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent +cabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and +his shirts, piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high. + +“I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a +selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.” + +He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one, +before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel, +which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in +many-coloured disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft +rich heap mounted higher—shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in +coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange, with monograms of +indian blue. Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into +the shirts and began to cry stormily. + +“They’re such beautiful shirts,” she sobbed, her voice muffled in the +thick folds. “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such—such +beautiful shirts before.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +After the house, we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool, and +the hydroplane, and the midsummer flowers—but outside Gatsby’s window +it began to rain again, so we stood in a row looking at the corrugated +surface of the Sound. + +“If it wasn’t for the mist we could see your home across the bay,” +said Gatsby. “You always have a green light that burns all night at +the end of your dock.” + +Daisy put her arm through his abruptly, but he seemed absorbed in what +he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal +significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the +great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very +near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to +the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of +enchanted objects had diminished by one. + +I began to walk about the room, examining various indefinite objects +in the half darkness. A large photograph of an elderly man in yachting +costume attracted me, hung on the wall over his desk. + +“Who’s this?” + +“That? That’s Mr. Dan Cody, old sport.” + +The name sounded faintly familiar. + +“He’s dead now. He used to be my best friend years ago.” + +There was a small picture of Gatsby, also in yachting costume, on the +bureau—Gatsby with his head thrown back defiantly—taken apparently +when he was about eighteen. + +“I adore it,” exclaimed Daisy. “The pompadour! You never told me you +had a pompadour—or a yacht.” + +“Look at this,” said Gatsby quickly. “Here’s a lot of clippings—about +you.” + +They stood side by side examining it. I was going to ask to see the +rubies when the phone rang, and Gatsby took up the receiver. + +“Yes … Well, I can’t talk now … I can’t talk now, old sport … I said a +small town … He must know what a small town is … Well, he’s no use to +us if Detroit is his idea of a small town …” + +He rang off. + +“Come here quick!” cried Daisy at the window. + +The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, +and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea. + +“Look at that,” she whispered, and then after a moment: “I’d like to +just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you +around.” + +I tried to go then, but they wouldn’t hear of it; perhaps my presence +made them feel more satisfactorily alone. + +“I know what we’ll do,” said Gatsby, “we’ll have Klipspringer play the +piano.” + +He went out of the room calling “Ewing!” and returned in a few minutes +accompanied by an embarrassed, slightly worn young man, with +shell-rimmed glasses and scanty blond hair. He was now decently +clothed in a “sport shirt,” open at the neck, sneakers, and duck +trousers of a nebulous hue. + +“Did we interrupt your exercise?” inquired Daisy politely. + +“I was asleep,” cried Mr. Klipspringer, in a spasm of embarrassment. +“That is, I’d been asleep. Then I got up …” + +“Klipspringer plays the piano,” said Gatsby, cutting him off. “Don’t +you, Ewing, old sport?” + +“I don’t play well. I don’t—hardly play at all. I’m all out of prac—” + +“We’ll go downstairs,” interrupted Gatsby. He flipped a switch. The +grey windows disappeared as the house glowed full of light. + +In the music-room Gatsby turned on a solitary lamp beside the piano. +He lit Daisy’s cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her +on a couch far across the room, where there was no light save what the +gleaming floor bounced in from the hall. + +When Klipspringer had played “The Love Nest” he turned around on the +bench and searched unhappily for Gatsby in the gloom. + +“I’m all out of practice, you see. I told you I couldn’t play. I’m all +out of prac—” + +“Don’t talk so much, old sport,” commanded Gatsby. “Play!” + + “In the morning, In the evening, Ain’t we got fun—” + +Outside the wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along +the Sound. All the lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric +trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain from New +York. It was the hour of a profound human change, and excitement was +generating on the air. + + “One thing’s sure and nothing’s surer The rich get richer and the + poor get—children. In the meantime, In between time—” + +As I went over to say goodbye I saw that the expression of +bewilderment had come back into Gatsby’s face, as though a faint doubt +had occurred to him as to the quality of his present happiness. Almost +five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when +Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but +because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond +her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative +passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright +feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can +challenge what a man can store up in his ghostly heart. + +As I watched him he adjusted himself a little, visibly. His hand took +hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned +toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, +with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be +over-dreamed—that voice was a deathless song. + +They had forgotten me, but Daisy glanced up and held out her hand; +Gatsby didn’t know me now at all. I looked once more at them and they +looked back at me, remotely, possessed by intense life. Then I went +out of the room and down the marble steps into the rain, leaving them +there together. + + + VI + +About this time an ambitious young reporter from New York arrived one +morning at Gatsby’s door and asked him if he had anything to say. + +“Anything to say about what?” inquired Gatsby politely. + +“Why—any statement to give out.” + +It transpired after a confused five minutes that the man had heard +Gatsby’s name around his office in a connection which he either +wouldn’t reveal or didn’t fully understand. This was his day off and +with laudable initiative he had hurried out “to see.” + +It was a random shot, and yet the reporter’s instinct was right. +Gatsby’s notoriety, spread about by the hundreds who had accepted his +hospitality and so become authorities upon his past, had increased all +summer until he fell just short of being news. Contemporary legends +such as the “underground pipeline to Canada” attached themselves to +him, and there was one persistent story that he didn’t live in a house +at all, but in a boat that looked like a house and was moved secretly +up and down the Long Island shore. Just why these inventions were a +source of satisfaction to James Gatz of North Dakota, isn’t easy to +say. + +James Gatz—that was really, or at least legally, his name. He had +changed it at the age of seventeen and at the specific moment that +witnessed the beginning of his career—when he saw Dan Cody’s yacht +drop anchor over the most insidious flat on Lake Superior. It was +James Gatz who had been loafing along the beach that afternoon in a +torn green jersey and a pair of canvas pants, but it was already Jay +Gatsby who borrowed a rowboat, pulled out to the Tuolomee, and +informed Cody that a wind might catch him and break him up in half an +hour. + +I suppose he’d had the name ready for a long time, even then. His +parents were shiftless and unsuccessful farm people—his imagination +had never really accepted them as his parents at all. The truth was +that Jay Gatsby of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic +conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means +anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s business, +the service of a vast, vulgar, and meretricious beauty. So he invented +just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen-year-old boy would be +likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful to the end. + +For over a year he had been beating his way along the south shore of +Lake Superior as a clam-digger and a salmon-fisher or in any other +capacity that brought him food and bed. His brown, hardening body +lived naturally through the half-fierce, half-lazy work of the bracing +days. He knew women early, and since they spoiled him he became +contemptuous of them, of young virgins because they were ignorant, of +the others because they were hysterical about things which in his +overwhelming self-absorption he took for granted. + +But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesque +and fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night. A universe of +ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock +ticked on the washstand and the moon soaked with wet light his tangled +clothes upon the floor. Each night he added to the pattern of his +fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an +oblivious embrace. For a while these reveries provided an outlet for +his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of +reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on +a fairy’s wing. + +An instinct toward his future glory had led him, some months before, +to the small Lutheran College of St. Olaf’s in southern Minnesota. He +stayed there two weeks, dismayed at its ferocious indifference to the +drums of his destiny, to destiny itself, and despising the janitor’s +work with which he was to pay his way through. Then he drifted back to +Lake Superior, and he was still searching for something to do on the +day that Dan Cody’s yacht dropped anchor in the shallows alongshore. + +Cody was fifty years old then, a product of the Nevada silver fields, +of the Yukon, of every rush for metal since seventy-five. The +transactions in Montana copper that made him many times a millionaire +found him physically robust but on the verge of soft-mindedness, and, +suspecting this, an infinite number of women tried to separate him +from his money. The none too savoury ramifications by which Ella Kaye, +the newspaper woman, played Madame de Maintenon to his weakness and +sent him to sea in a yacht, were common property of the turgid +journalism in 1902. He had been coasting along all too hospitable +shores for five years when he turned up as James Gatz’s destiny in +Little Girl Bay. + +To young Gatz, resting on his oars and looking up at the railed deck, +that yacht represented all the beauty and glamour in the world. I +suppose he smiled at Cody—he had probably discovered that people liked +him when he smiled. At any rate Cody asked him a few questions (one of +them elicited the brand new name) and found that he was quick and +extravagantly ambitious. A few days later he took him to Duluth and +bought him a blue coat, six pairs of white duck trousers, and a +yachting cap. And when the Tuolomee left for the West Indies and the +Barbary Coast, Gatsby left too. + +He was employed in a vague personal capacity—while he remained with +Cody he was in turn steward, mate, skipper, secretary, and even +jailor, for Dan Cody sober knew what lavish doings Dan Cody drunk +might soon be about, and he provided for such contingencies by +reposing more and more trust in Gatsby. The arrangement lasted five +years, during which the boat went three times around the Continent. +It might have lasted indefinitely except for the fact that Ella Kaye +came on board one night in Boston and a week later Dan Cody +inhospitably died. + +I remember the portrait of him up in Gatsby’s bedroom, a grey, florid +man with a hard, empty face—the pioneer debauchee, who during one +phase of American life brought back to the Eastern seaboard the savage +violence of the frontier brothel and saloon. It was indirectly due to +Cody that Gatsby drank so little. Sometimes in the course of gay +parties women used to rub champagne into his hair; for himself he +formed the habit of letting liquor alone. + +And it was from Cody that he inherited money—a legacy of twenty-five +thousand dollars. He didn’t get it. He never understood the legal +device that was used against him, but what remained of the millions +went intact to Ella Kaye. He was left with his singularly appropriate +education; the vague contour of Jay Gatsby had filled out to the +substantiality of a man. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +He told me all this very much later, but I’ve put it down here with +the idea of exploding those first wild rumours about his antecedents, +which weren’t even faintly true. Moreover he told it to me at a time +of confusion, when I had reached the point of believing everything and +nothing about him. So I take advantage of this short halt, while +Gatsby, so to speak, caught his breath, to clear this set of +misconceptions away. + +It was a halt, too, in my association with his affairs. For several +weeks I didn’t see him or hear his voice on the phone—mostly I was in +New York, trotting around with Jordan and trying to ingratiate myself +with her senile aunt—but finally I went over to his house one Sunday +afternoon. I hadn’t been there two minutes when somebody brought Tom +Buchanan in for a drink. I was startled, naturally, but the really +surprising thing was that it hadn’t happened before. + +They were a party of three on horseback—Tom and a man named Sloane and +a pretty woman in a brown riding-habit, who had been there previously. + +“I’m delighted to see you,” said Gatsby, standing on his porch. “I’m +delighted that you dropped in.” + +As though they cared! + +“Sit right down. Have a cigarette or a cigar.” He walked around the +room quickly, ringing bells. “I’ll have something to drink for you in +just a minute.” + +He was profoundly affected by the fact that Tom was there. But he +would be uneasy anyhow until he had given them something, realizing in +a vague way that that was all they came for. Mr. Sloane wanted +nothing. A lemonade? No, thanks. A little champagne? Nothing at all, +thanks … I’m sorry— + +“Did you have a nice ride?” + +“Very good roads around here.” + +“I suppose the automobiles—” + +“Yeah.” + +Moved by an irresistible impulse, Gatsby turned to Tom, who had +accepted the introduction as a stranger. + +“I believe we’ve met somewhere before, Mr. Buchanan.” + +“Oh, yes,” said Tom, gruffly polite, but obviously not remembering. +“So we did. I remember very well.” + +“About two weeks ago.” + +“That’s right. You were with Nick here.” + +“I know your wife,” continued Gatsby, almost aggressively. + +“That so?” + +Tom turned to me. + +“You live near here, Nick?” + +“Next door.” + +“That so?” + +Mr. Sloane didn’t enter into the conversation, but lounged back +haughtily in his chair; the woman said nothing either—until +unexpectedly, after two highballs, she became cordial. + +“We’ll all come over to your next party, Mr. Gatsby,” she suggested. +“What do you say?” + +“Certainly; I’d be delighted to have you.” + +“Be ver’ nice,” said Mr. Sloane, without gratitude. “Well—think ought +to be starting home.” + +“Please don’t hurry,” Gatsby urged them. He had control of himself +now, and he wanted to see more of Tom. “Why don’t you—why don’t you +stay for supper? I wouldn’t be surprised if some other people dropped +in from New York.” + +“You come to supper with me,” said the lady enthusiastically. “Both of +you.” + +This included me. Mr. Sloane got to his feet. + +“Come along,” he said—but to her only. + +“I mean it,” she insisted. “I’d love to have you. Lots of room.” + +Gatsby looked at me questioningly. He wanted to go and he didn’t see +that Mr. Sloane had determined he shouldn’t. + +“I’m afraid I won’t be able to,” I said. + +“Well, you come,” she urged, concentrating on Gatsby. + +Mr. Sloane murmured something close to her ear. + +“We won’t be late if we start now,” she insisted aloud. + +“I haven’t got a horse,” said Gatsby. “I used to ride in the army, but +I’ve never bought a horse. I’ll have to follow you in my car. Excuse +me for just a minute.” + +The rest of us walked out on the porch, where Sloane and the lady +began an impassioned conversation aside. + +“My God, I believe the man’s coming,” said Tom. “Doesn’t he know she +doesn’t want him?” + +“She says she does want him.” + +“She has a big dinner party and he won’t know a soul there.” He +frowned. “I wonder where in the devil he met Daisy. By God, I may be +old-fashioned in my ideas, but women run around too much these days to +suit me. They meet all kinds of crazy fish.” + +Suddenly Mr. Sloane and the lady walked down the steps and mounted +their horses. + +“Come on,” said Mr. Sloane to Tom, “we’re late. We’ve got to go.” And +then to me: “Tell him we couldn’t wait, will you?” + +Tom and I shook hands, the rest of us exchanged a cool nod, and they +trotted quickly down the drive, disappearing under the August foliage +just as Gatsby, with hat and light overcoat in hand, came out the +front door. + +Tom was evidently perturbed at Daisy’s running around alone, for on +the following Saturday night he came with her to Gatsby’s +party. Perhaps his presence gave the evening its peculiar quality of +oppressiveness—it stands out in my memory from Gatsby’s other parties +that summer. There were the same people, or at least the same sort of +people, the same profusion of champagne, the same many-coloured, +many-keyed commotion, but I felt an unpleasantness in the air, a +pervading harshness that hadn’t been there before. Or perhaps I had +merely grown used to it, grown to accept West Egg as a world complete +in itself, with its own standards and its own great figures, second to +nothing because it had no consciousness of being so, and now I was +looking at it again, through Daisy’s eyes. It is invariably saddening +to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your +own powers of adjustment. + +They arrived at twilight, and, as we strolled out among the sparkling +hundreds, Daisy’s voice was playing murmurous tricks in her throat. + +“These things excite me so,” she whispered. “If you want to kiss me +any time during the evening, Nick, just let me know and I’ll be glad +to arrange it for you. Just mention my name. Or present a green card. +I’m giving out green—” + +“Look around,” suggested Gatsby. + +“I’m looking around. I’m having a marvellous—” + +“You must see the faces of many people you’ve heard about.” + +Tom’s arrogant eyes roamed the crowd. + +“We don’t go around very much,” he said; “in fact, I was just thinking +I don’t know a soul here.” + +“Perhaps you know that lady.” Gatsby indicated a gorgeous, scarcely +human orchid of a woman who sat in state under a white-plum tree. Tom +and Daisy stared, with that peculiarly unreal feeling that accompanies +the recognition of a hitherto ghostly celebrity of the movies. + +“She’s lovely,” said Daisy. + +“The man bending over her is her director.” + +He took them ceremoniously from group to group: + +“Mrs. Buchanan … and Mr. Buchanan—” After an instant’s hesitation he +added: “the polo player.” + +“Oh no,” objected Tom quickly, “not me.” + +But evidently the sound of it pleased Gatsby for Tom remained “the +polo player” for the rest of the evening. + +“I’ve never met so many celebrities,” Daisy exclaimed. “I liked that +man—what was his name?—with the sort of blue nose.” + +Gatsby identified him, adding that he was a small producer. + +“Well, I liked him anyhow.” + +“I’d a little rather not be the polo player,” said Tom pleasantly, +“I’d rather look at all these famous people in—in oblivion.” + +Daisy and Gatsby danced. I remember being surprised by his graceful, +conservative foxtrot—I had never seen him dance before. Then they +sauntered over to my house and sat on the steps for half an hour, +while at her request I remained watchfully in the garden. “In case +there’s a fire or a flood,” she explained, “or any act of God.” + +Tom appeared from his oblivion as we were sitting down to supper +together. “Do you mind if I eat with some people over here?” he +said. “A fellow’s getting off some funny stuff.” + +“Go ahead,” answered Daisy genially, “and if you want to take down any +addresses here’s my little gold pencil.” … She looked around after a +moment and told me the girl was “common but pretty,” and I knew that +except for the half-hour she’d been alone with Gatsby she wasn’t +having a good time. + +We were at a particularly tipsy table. That was my fault—Gatsby had +been called to the phone, and I’d enjoyed these same people only two +weeks before. But what had amused me then turned septic on the air +now. + +“How do you feel, Miss Baedeker?” + +The girl addressed was trying, unsuccessfully, to slump against my +shoulder. At this inquiry she sat up and opened her eyes. + +“Wha’?” + +A massive and lethargic woman, who had been urging Daisy to play golf +with her at the local club tomorrow, spoke in Miss Baedeker’s defence: + +“Oh, she’s all right now. When she’s had five or six cocktails she +always starts screaming like that. I tell her she ought to leave it +alone.” + +“I do leave it alone,” affirmed the accused hollowly. + +“We heard you yelling, so I said to Doc Civet here: ‘There’s somebody +that needs your help, Doc.’ ” + +“She’s much obliged, I’m sure,” said another friend, without +gratitude, “but you got her dress all wet when you stuck her head in +the pool.” + +“Anything I hate is to get my head stuck in a pool,” mumbled Miss +Baedeker. “They almost drowned me once over in New Jersey.” + +“Then you ought to leave it alone,” countered Doctor Civet. + +“Speak for yourself!” cried Miss Baedeker violently. “Your hand +shakes. I wouldn’t let you operate on me!” + +It was like that. Almost the last thing I remember was standing with +Daisy and watching the moving-picture director and his Star. They were +still under the white-plum tree and their faces were touching except +for a pale, thin ray of moonlight between. It occurred to me that he +had been very slowly bending toward her all evening to attain this +proximity, and even while I watched I saw him stoop one ultimate +degree and kiss at her cheek. + +“I like her,” said Daisy, “I think she’s lovely.” + +But the rest offended her—and inarguably because it wasn’t a gesture +but an emotion. She was appalled by West Egg, this unprecedented +“place” that Broadway had begotten upon a Long Island fishing +village—appalled by its raw vigour that chafed under the old +euphemisms and by the too obtrusive fate that herded its inhabitants +along a shortcut from nothing to nothing. She saw something awful in +the very simplicity she failed to understand. + +I sat on the front steps with them while they waited for their car. +It was dark here in front; only the bright door sent ten square feet +of light volleying out into the soft black morning. Sometimes a shadow +moved against a dressing-room blind above, gave way to another shadow, +an indefinite procession of shadows, who rouged and powdered in an +invisible glass. + +“Who is this Gatsby anyhow?” demanded Tom suddenly. “Some big +bootlegger?” + +“Where’d you hear that?” I inquired. + +“I didn’t hear it. I imagined it. A lot of these newly rich people are +just big bootleggers, you know.” + +“Not Gatsby,” I said shortly. + +He was silent for a moment. The pebbles of the drive crunched under +his feet. + +“Well, he certainly must have strained himself to get this menagerie +together.” + +A breeze stirred the grey haze of Daisy’s fur collar. + +“At least they are more interesting than the people we know,” she said +with an effort. + +“You didn’t look so interested.” + +“Well, I was.” + +Tom laughed and turned to me. + +“Did you notice Daisy’s face when that girl asked her to put her under +a cold shower?” + +Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rhythmic whisper, +bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and +would never have again. When the melody rose her voice broke up +sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change +tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air. + +“Lots of people come who haven’t been invited,” she said +suddenly. “That girl hadn’t been invited. They simply force their way +in and he’s too polite to object.” + +“I’d like to know who he is and what he does,” insisted Tom. “And I +think I’ll make a point of finding out.” + +“I can tell you right now,” she answered. “He owned some drugstores, a +lot of drugstores. He built them up himself.” + +The dilatory limousine came rolling up the drive. + +“Good night, Nick,” said Daisy. + +Her glance left me and sought the lighted top of the steps, where +“Three O’Clock in the Morning,” a neat, sad little waltz of that year, +was drifting out the open door. After all, in the very casualness of +Gatsby’s party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from +her world. What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling +her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours? +Perhaps some unbelievable guest would arrive, a person infinitely rare +and to be marvelled at, some authentically radiant young girl who with +one fresh glance at Gatsby, one moment of magical encounter, would +blot out those five years of unwavering devotion. + +I stayed late that night. Gatsby asked me to wait until he was free, +and I lingered in the garden until the inevitable swimming party had +run up, chilled and exalted, from the black beach, until the lights +were extinguished in the guestrooms overhead. When he came down the +steps at last the tanned skin was drawn unusually tight on his face, +and his eyes were bright and tired. + +“She didn’t like it,” he said immediately. + +“Of course she did.” + +“She didn’t like it,” he insisted. “She didn’t have a good time.” + +He was silent, and I guessed at his unutterable depression. + +“I feel far away from her,” he said. “It’s hard to make her +understand.” + +“You mean about the dance?” + +“The dance?” He dismissed all the dances he had given with a snap of +his fingers. “Old sport, the dance is unimportant.” + +He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and +say: “I never loved you.” After she had obliterated four years with +that sentence they could decide upon the more practical measures to be +taken. One of them was that, after she was free, they were to go back +to Louisville and be married from her house—just as if it were five +years ago. + +“And she doesn’t understand,” he said. “She used to be able to +understand. We’d sit for hours—” + +He broke off and began to walk up and down a desolate path of fruit +rinds and discarded favours and crushed flowers. + +“I wouldn’t ask too much of her,” I ventured. “You can’t repeat the +past.” + +“Can’t repeat the past?” he cried incredulously. “Why of course you +can!” + +He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the +shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand. + +“I’m going to fix everything just the way it was before,” he said, +nodding determinedly. “She’ll see.” + +He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to +recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into +loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, +but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it +all slowly, he could find out what that thing was … + +… One autumn night, five years before, they had been walking down the +street when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where +there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They +stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night +with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes +of the year. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the +darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the +corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalks really +formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could +climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the +pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder. + +His heart beat faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He +knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable +visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like +the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the +tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At +his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the +incarnation was complete. + +Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was +reminded of something—an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, +that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase +tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man’s, +as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled +air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was +uncommunicable forever. + + + VII + +It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights +in his house failed to go on one Saturday night—and, as obscurely as +it had begun, his career as Trimalchio was over. Only gradually did I +become aware that the automobiles which turned expectantly into his +drive stayed for just a minute and then drove sulkily away. Wondering +if he were sick I went over to find out—an unfamiliar butler with a +villainous face squinted at me suspiciously from the door. + +“Is Mr. Gatsby sick?” + +“Nope.” After a pause he added “sir” in a dilatory, grudging way. + +“I hadn’t seen him around, and I was rather worried. Tell him Mr. +Carraway came over.” + +“Who?” he demanded rudely. + +“Carraway.” + +“Carraway. All right, I’ll tell him.” + +Abruptly he slammed the door. + +My Finn informed me that Gatsby had dismissed every servant in his +house a week ago and replaced them with half a dozen others, who never +went into West Egg village to be bribed by the tradesmen, but ordered +moderate supplies over the telephone. The grocery boy reported that +the kitchen looked like a pigsty, and the general opinion in the +village was that the new people weren’t servants at all. + +Next day Gatsby called me on the phone. + +“Going away?” I inquired. + +“No, old sport.” + +“I hear you fired all your servants.” + +“I wanted somebody who wouldn’t gossip. Daisy comes over quite +often—in the afternoons.” + +So the whole caravansary had fallen in like a card house at the +disapproval in her eyes. + +“They’re some people Wolfshiem wanted to do something for. They’re all +brothers and sisters. They used to run a small hotel.” + +“I see.” + +He was calling up at Daisy’s request—would I come to lunch at her +house tomorrow? Miss Baker would be there. Half an hour later Daisy +herself telephoned and seemed relieved to find that I was +coming. Something was up. And yet I couldn’t believe that they would +choose this occasion for a scene—especially for the rather harrowing +scene that Gatsby had outlined in the garden. + +The next day was broiling, almost the last, certainly the warmest, of +the summer. As my train emerged from the tunnel into sunlight, only +the hot whistles of the National Biscuit Company broke the simmering +hush at noon. The straw seats of the car hovered on the edge of +combustion; the woman next to me perspired delicately for a while into +her white shirtwaist, and then, as her newspaper dampened under her +fingers, lapsed despairingly into deep heat with a desolate cry. Her +pocketbook slapped to the floor. + +“Oh, my!” she gasped. + +I picked it up with a weary bend and handed it back to her, holding it +at arm’s length and by the extreme tip of the corners to indicate that +I had no designs upon it—but everyone near by, including the woman, +suspected me just the same. + +“Hot!” said the conductor to familiar faces. “Some weather! … Hot! … +Hot! … Hot! … Is it hot enough for you? Is it hot? Is it … ?” + +My commutation ticket came back to me with a dark stain from his hand. +That anyone should care in this heat whose flushed lips he kissed, +whose head made damp the pyjama pocket over his heart! + +… Through the hall of the Buchanans’ house blew a faint wind, carrying +the sound of the telephone bell out to Gatsby and me as we waited at +the door. + +“The master’s body?” roared the butler into the mouthpiece. “I’m +sorry, madame, but we can’t furnish it—it’s far too hot to touch this +noon!” + +What he really said was: “Yes … Yes … I’ll see.” + +He set down the receiver and came toward us, glistening slightly, to +take our stiff straw hats. + +“Madame expects you in the salon!” he cried, needlessly indicating the +direction. In this heat every extra gesture was an affront to the +common store of life. + +The room, shadowed well with awnings, was dark and cool. Daisy and +Jordan lay upon an enormous couch, like silver idols weighing down +their own white dresses against the singing breeze of the fans. + +“We can’t move,” they said together. + +Jordan’s fingers, powdered white over their tan, rested for a moment +in mine. + +“And Mr. Thomas Buchanan, the athlete?” I inquired. + +Simultaneously I heard his voice, gruff, muffled, husky, at the hall +telephone. + +Gatsby stood in the centre of the crimson carpet and gazed around with +fascinated eyes. Daisy watched him and laughed, her sweet, exciting +laugh; a tiny gust of powder rose from her bosom into the air. + +“The rumour is,” whispered Jordan, “that that’s Tom’s girl on the +telephone.” + +We were silent. The voice in the hall rose high with annoyance: “Very +well, then, I won’t sell you the car at all … I’m under no obligations +to you at all … and as for your bothering me about it at lunch time, I +won’t stand that at all!” + +“Holding down the receiver,” said Daisy cynically. + +“No, he’s not,” I assured her. “It’s a bona-fide deal. I happen to +know about it.” + +Tom flung open the door, blocked out its space for a moment with his +thick body, and hurried into the room. + +“Mr. Gatsby!” He put out his broad, flat hand with well-concealed +dislike. “I’m glad to see you, sir … Nick …” + +“Make us a cold drink,” cried Daisy. + +As he left the room again she got up and went over to Gatsby and +pulled his face down, kissing him on the mouth. + +“You know I love you,” she murmured. + +“You forget there’s a lady present,” said Jordan. + +Daisy looked around doubtfully. + +“You kiss Nick too.” + +“What a low, vulgar girl!” + +“I don’t care!” cried Daisy, and began to clog on the brick fireplace. +Then she remembered the heat and sat down guiltily on the couch just +as a freshly laundered nurse leading a little girl came into the room. + +“Bles-sed pre-cious,” she crooned, holding out her arms. “Come to your +own mother that loves you.” + +The child, relinquished by the nurse, rushed across the room and +rooted shyly into her mother’s dress. + +“The bles-sed pre-cious! Did mother get powder on your old yellowy +hair? Stand up now, and say—How-de-do.” + +Gatsby and I in turn leaned down and took the small reluctant hand. +Afterward he kept looking at the child with surprise. I don’t think he +had ever really believed in its existence before. + +“I got dressed before luncheon,” said the child, turning eagerly to +Daisy. + +“That’s because your mother wanted to show you off.” Her face bent +into the single wrinkle of the small white neck. “You dream, you. You +absolute little dream.” + +“Yes,” admitted the child calmly. “Aunt Jordan’s got on a white dress +too.” + +“How do you like mother’s friends?” Daisy turned her around so that +she faced Gatsby. “Do you think they’re pretty?” + +“Where’s Daddy?” + +“She doesn’t look like her father,” explained Daisy. “She looks like +me. She’s got my hair and shape of the face.” + +Daisy sat back upon the couch. The nurse took a step forward and held +out her hand. + +“Come, Pammy.” + +“Goodbye, sweetheart!” + +With a reluctant backward glance the well-disciplined child held to +her nurse’s hand and was pulled out the door, just as Tom came back, +preceding four gin rickeys that clicked full of ice. + +Gatsby took up his drink. + +“They certainly look cool,” he said, with visible tension. + +We drank in long, greedy swallows. + +“I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year,” said Tom +genially. “It seems that pretty soon the earth’s going to fall into +the sun—or wait a minute—it’s just the opposite—the sun’s getting +colder every year. + +“Come outside,” he suggested to Gatsby, “I’d like you to have a look +at the place.” + +I went with them out to the veranda. On the green Sound, stagnant in +the heat, one small sail crawled slowly toward the fresher sea. +Gatsby’s eyes followed it momentarily; he raised his hand and pointed +across the bay. + +“I’m right across from you.” + +“So you are.” + +Our eyes lifted over the rose-beds and the hot lawn and the weedy +refuse of the dog-days alongshore. Slowly the white wings of the boat +moved against the blue cool limit of the sky. Ahead lay the scalloped +ocean and the abounding blessed isles. + +“There’s sport for you,” said Tom, nodding. “I’d like to be out there +with him for about an hour.” + +We had luncheon in the dining-room, darkened too against the heat, and +drank down nervous gaiety with the cold ale. + +“What’ll we do with ourselves this afternoon?” cried Daisy, “and the +day after that, and the next thirty years?” + +“Don’t be morbid,” Jordan said. “Life starts all over again when it +gets crisp in the fall.” + +“But it’s so hot,” insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears, “and +everything’s so confused. Let’s all go to town!” + +Her voice struggled on through the heat, beating against it, moulding +its senselessness into forms. + +“I’ve heard of making a garage out of a stable,” Tom was saying to +Gatsby, “but I’m the first man who ever made a stable out of a +garage.” + +“Who wants to go to town?” demanded Daisy insistently. Gatsby’s eyes +floated toward her. “Ah,” she cried, “you look so cool.” + +Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in +space. With an effort she glanced down at the table. + +“You always look so cool,” she repeated. + +She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw. He was +astounded. His mouth opened a little, and he looked at Gatsby, and +then back at Daisy as if he had just recognized her as someone he knew +a long time ago. + +“You resemble the advertisement of the man,” she went on innocently. +“You know the advertisement of the man—” + +“All right,” broke in Tom quickly, “I’m perfectly willing to go to +town. Come on—we’re all going to town.” + +He got up, his eyes still flashing between Gatsby and his wife. No one +moved. + +“Come on!” His temper cracked a little. “What’s the matter, anyhow? +If we’re going to town, let’s start.” + +His hand, trembling with his effort at self-control, bore to his lips +the last of his glass of ale. Daisy’s voice got us to our feet and out +on to the blazing gravel drive. + +“Are we just going to go?” she objected. “Like this? Aren’t we going +to let anyone smoke a cigarette first?” + +“Everybody smoked all through lunch.” + +“Oh, let’s have fun,” she begged him. “It’s too hot to fuss.” + +He didn’t answer. + +“Have it your own way,” she said. “Come on, Jordan.” + +They went upstairs to get ready while we three men stood there +shuffling the hot pebbles with our feet. A silver curve of the moon +hovered already in the western sky. Gatsby started to speak, changed +his mind, but not before Tom wheeled and faced him expectantly. + +“Have you got your stables here?” asked Gatsby with an effort. + +“About a quarter of a mile down the road.” + +“Oh.” + +A pause. + +“I don’t see the idea of going to town,” broke out Tom savagely. +“Women get these notions in their heads—” + +“Shall we take anything to drink?” called Daisy from an upper window. + +“I’ll get some whisky,” answered Tom. He went inside. + +Gatsby turned to me rigidly: + +“I can’t say anything in his house, old sport.” + +“She’s got an indiscreet voice,” I remarked. “It’s full of—” I +hesitated. + +“Her voice is full of money,” he said suddenly. + +That was it. I’d never understood before. It was full of money—that +was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of +it, the cymbals’ song of it … High in a white palace the king’s +daughter, the golden girl … + +Tom came out of the house wrapping a quart bottle in a towel, followed +by Daisy and Jordan wearing small tight hats of metallic cloth and +carrying light capes over their arms. + +“Shall we all go in my car?” suggested Gatsby. He felt the hot, green +leather of the seat. “I ought to have left it in the shade.” + +“Is it standard shift?” demanded Tom. + +“Yes.” + +“Well, you take my coupé and let me drive your car to town.” + +The suggestion was distasteful to Gatsby. + +“I don’t think there’s much gas,” he objected. + +“Plenty of gas,” said Tom boisterously. He looked at the gauge. “And +if it runs out I can stop at a drugstore. You can buy anything at a +drugstore nowadays.” + +A pause followed this apparently pointless remark. Daisy looked at Tom +frowning, and an indefinable expression, at once definitely unfamiliar +and vaguely recognizable, as if I had only heard it described in +words, passed over Gatsby’s face. + +“Come on, Daisy,” said Tom, pressing her with his hand toward Gatsby’s +car. “I’ll take you in this circus wagon.” + +He opened the door, but she moved out from the circle of his arm. + +“You take Nick and Jordan. We’ll follow you in the coupé.” + +She walked close to Gatsby, touching his coat with her hand. Jordan +and Tom and I got into the front seat of Gatsby’s car, Tom pushed the +unfamiliar gears tentatively, and we shot off into the oppressive +heat, leaving them out of sight behind. + +“Did you see that?” demanded Tom. + +“See what?” + +He looked at me keenly, realizing that Jordan and I must have known +all along. + +“You think I’m pretty dumb, don’t you?” he suggested. “Perhaps I am, +but I have a—almost a second sight, sometimes, that tells me what to +do. Maybe you don’t believe that, but science—” + +He paused. The immediate contingency overtook him, pulled him back +from the edge of theoretical abyss. + +“I’ve made a small investigation of this fellow,” he continued. “I +could have gone deeper if I’d known—” + +“Do you mean you’ve been to a medium?” inquired Jordan humorously. + +“What?” Confused, he stared at us as we laughed. “A medium?” + +“About Gatsby.” + +“About Gatsby! No, I haven’t. I said I’d been making a small +investigation of his past.” + +“And you found he was an Oxford man,” said Jordan helpfully. + +“An Oxford man!” He was incredulous. “Like hell he is! He wears a pink +suit.” + +“Nevertheless he’s an Oxford man.” + +“Oxford, New Mexico,” snorted Tom contemptuously, “or something like +that.” + +“Listen, Tom. If you’re such a snob, why did you invite him to lunch?” +demanded Jordan crossly. + +“Daisy invited him; she knew him before we were married—God knows +where!” + +We were all irritable now with the fading ale, and aware of it we +drove for a while in silence. Then as Doctor T. J. Eckleburg’s faded +eyes came into sight down the road, I remembered Gatsby’s caution +about gasoline. + +“We’ve got enough to get us to town,” said Tom. + +“But there’s a garage right here,” objected Jordan. “I don’t want to +get stalled in this baking heat.” + +Tom threw on both brakes impatiently, and we slid to an abrupt dusty +stop under Wilson’s sign. After a moment the proprietor emerged from +the interior of his establishment and gazed hollow-eyed at the car. + +“Let’s have some gas!” cried Tom roughly. “What do you think we +stopped for—to admire the view?” + +“I’m sick,” said Wilson without moving. “Been sick all day.” + +“What’s the matter?” + +“I’m all run down.” + +“Well, shall I help myself?” Tom demanded. “You sounded well enough on +the phone.” + +With an effort Wilson left the shade and support of the doorway and, +breathing hard, unscrewed the cap of the tank. In the sunlight his +face was green. + +“I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch,” he said. “But I need money +pretty bad, and I was wondering what you were going to do with your +old car.” + +“How do you like this one?” inquired Tom. “I bought it last week.” + +“It’s a nice yellow one,” said Wilson, as he strained at the handle. + +“Like to buy it?” + +“Big chance,” Wilson smiled faintly. “No, but I could make some money +on the other.” + +“What do you want money for, all of a sudden?” + +“I’ve been here too long. I want to get away. My wife and I want to go +West.” + +“Your wife does,” exclaimed Tom, startled. + +“She’s been talking about it for ten years.” He rested for a moment +against the pump, shading his eyes. “And now she’s going whether she +wants to or not. I’m going to get her away.” + +The coupé flashed by us with a flurry of dust and the flash of a +waving hand. + +“What do I owe you?” demanded Tom harshly. + +“I just got wised up to something funny the last two days,” remarked +Wilson. “That’s why I want to get away. That’s why I been bothering +you about the car.” + +“What do I owe you?” + +“Dollar twenty.” + +The relentless beating heat was beginning to confuse me and I had a +bad moment there before I realized that so far his suspicions hadn’t +alighted on Tom. He had discovered that Myrtle had some sort of life +apart from him in another world, and the shock had made him physically +sick. I stared at him and then at Tom, who had made a parallel +discovery less than an hour before—and it occurred to me that there +was no difference between men, in intelligence or race, so profound as +the difference between the sick and the well. Wilson was so sick that +he looked guilty, unforgivably guilty—as if he had just got some poor +girl with child. + +“I’ll let you have that car,” said Tom. “I’ll send it over tomorrow +afternoon.” + +That locality was always vaguely disquieting, even in the broad glare +of afternoon, and now I turned my head as though I had been warned of +something behind. Over the ash-heaps the giant eyes of Doctor T. J. +Eckleburg kept their vigil, but I perceived, after a moment, that +other eyes were regarding us with peculiar intensity from less than +twenty feet away. + +In one of the windows over the garage the curtains had been moved +aside a little, and Myrtle Wilson was peering down at the car. So +engrossed was she that she had no consciousness of being observed, and +one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a +slowly developing picture. Her expression was curiously familiar—it +was an expression I had often seen on women’s faces, but on Myrtle +Wilson’s face it seemed purposeless and inexplicable until I realized +that her eyes, wide with jealous terror, were fixed not on Tom, but on +Jordan Baker, whom she took to be his wife. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind, and as we +drove away Tom was feeling the hot whips of panic. His wife and his +mistress, until an hour ago secure and inviolate, were slipping +precipitately from his control. Instinct made him step on the +accelerator with the double purpose of overtaking Daisy and leaving +Wilson behind, and we sped along toward Astoria at fifty miles an +hour, until, among the spidery girders of the elevated, we came in +sight of the easygoing blue coupé. + +“Those big movies around Fiftieth Street are cool,” suggested +Jordan. “I love New York on summer afternoons when everyone’s away. +There’s something very sensuous about it—overripe, as if all sorts of +funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.” + +The word “sensuous” had the effect of further disquieting Tom, but +before he could invent a protest the coupé came to a stop, and Daisy +signalled us to draw up alongside. + +“Where are we going?” she cried. + +“How about the movies?” + +“It’s so hot,” she complained. “You go. We’ll ride around and meet you +after.” With an effort her wit rose faintly. “We’ll meet you on some +corner. I’ll be the man smoking two cigarettes.” + +“We can’t argue about it here,” Tom said impatiently, as a truck gave +out a cursing whistle behind us. “You follow me to the south side of +Central Park, in front of the Plaza.” + +Several times he turned his head and looked back for their car, and if +the traffic delayed them he slowed up until they came into sight. I +think he was afraid they would dart down a side-street and out of his +life forever. + +But they didn’t. And we all took the less explicable step of engaging +the parlour of a suite in the Plaza Hotel. + +The prolonged and tumultuous argument that ended by herding us into +that room eludes me, though I have a sharp physical memory that, in +the course of it, my underwear kept climbing like a damp snake around +my legs and intermittent beads of sweat raced cool across my back. +The notion originated with Daisy’s suggestion that we hire five +bathrooms and take cold baths, and then assumed more tangible form as +“a place to have a mint julep.” Each of us said over and over that it +was a “crazy idea”—we all talked at once to a baffled clerk and +thought, or pretended to think, that we were being very funny … + +The room was large and stifling, and, though it was already four +o’clock, opening the windows admitted only a gust of hot shrubbery +from the Park. Daisy went to the mirror and stood with her back to us, +fixing her hair. + +“It’s a swell suite,” whispered Jordan respectfully, and everyone +laughed. + +“Open another window,” commanded Daisy, without turning around. + +“There aren’t any more.” + +“Well, we’d better telephone for an axe—” + +“The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” said Tom impatiently. +“You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.” + +He unrolled the bottle of whisky from the towel and put it on the +table. + +“Why not let her alone, old sport?” remarked Gatsby. “You’re the one +that wanted to come to town.” + +There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped from its +nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan whispered, “Excuse +me”—but this time no one laughed. + +“I’ll pick it up,” I offered. + +“I’ve got it.” Gatsby examined the parted string, muttered “Hum!” in +an interested way, and tossed the book on a chair. + +“That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” said Tom sharply. + +“What is?” + +“All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?” + +“Now see here, Tom,” said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, “if +you’re going to make personal remarks I won’t stay here a minute. +Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.” + +As Tom took up the receiver the compressed heat exploded into sound +and we were listening to the portentous chords of Mendelssohn’s +Wedding March from the ballroom below. + +“Imagine marrying anybody in this heat!” cried Jordan dismally. + +“Still—I was married in the middle of June,” Daisy remembered. +“Louisville in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it fainted, Tom?” + +“Biloxi,” he answered shortly. + +“A man named Biloxi. ‘Blocks’ Biloxi, and he made boxes—that’s a +fact—and he was from Biloxi, Tennessee.” + +“They carried him into my house,” appended Jordan, “because we lived +just two doors from the church. And he stayed three weeks, until Daddy +told him he had to get out. The day after he left Daddy died.” After +a moment she added as if she might have sounded irreverent, “There +wasn’t any connection.” + +“I used to know a Bill Biloxi from Memphis,” I remarked. + +“That was his cousin. I knew his whole family history before he +left. He gave me an aluminium putter that I use today.” + +The music had died down as the ceremony began and now a long cheer +floated in at the window, followed by intermittent cries of +“Yea—ea—ea!” and finally by a burst of jazz as the dancing began. + +“We’re getting old,” said Daisy. “If we were young we’d rise and +dance.” + +“Remember Biloxi,” Jordan warned her. “Where’d you know him, Tom?” + +“Biloxi?” He concentrated with an effort. “I didn’t know him. He was a +friend of Daisy’s.” + +“He was not,” she denied. “I’d never seen him before. He came down in +the private car.” + +“Well, he said he knew you. He said he was raised in Louisville. Asa +Bird brought him around at the last minute and asked if we had room +for him.” + +Jordan smiled. + +“He was probably bumming his way home. He told me he was president of +your class at Yale.” + +Tom and I looked at each other blankly. + +“Biloxi?” + +“First place, we didn’t have any president—” + +Gatsby’s foot beat a short, restless tattoo and Tom eyed him suddenly. + +“By the way, Mr. Gatsby, I understand you’re an Oxford man.” + +“Not exactly.” + +“Oh, yes, I understand you went to Oxford.” + +“Yes—I went there.” + +A pause. Then Tom’s voice, incredulous and insulting: + +“You must have gone there about the time Biloxi went to New Haven.” + +Another pause. A waiter knocked and came in with crushed mint and ice +but the silence was unbroken by his “thank you” and the soft closing +of the door. This tremendous detail was to be cleared up at last. + +“I told you I went there,” said Gatsby. + +“I heard you, but I’d like to know when.” + +“It was in nineteen-nineteen, I only stayed five months. That’s why I +can’t really call myself an Oxford man.” + +Tom glanced around to see if we mirrored his unbelief. But we were all +looking at Gatsby. + +“It was an opportunity they gave to some of the officers after the +armistice,” he continued. “We could go to any of the universities in +England or France.” + +I wanted to get up and slap him on the back. I had one of those +renewals of complete faith in him that I’d experienced before. + +Daisy rose, smiling faintly, and went to the table. + +“Open the whisky, Tom,” she ordered, “and I’ll make you a mint julep. +Then you won’t seem so stupid to yourself … Look at the mint!” + +“Wait a minute,” snapped Tom, “I want to ask Mr. Gatsby one more +question.” + +“Go on,” Gatsby said politely. + +“What kind of a row are you trying to cause in my house anyhow?” + +They were out in the open at last and Gatsby was content. + +“He isn’t causing a row,” Daisy looked desperately from one to the +other. “You’re causing a row. Please have a little self-control.” + +“Self-control!” repeated Tom incredulously. “I suppose the latest +thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your +wife. Well, if that’s the idea you can count me out … Nowadays people +begin by sneering at family life and family institutions, and next +they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between +black and white.” + +Flushed with his impassioned gibberish, he saw himself standing alone +on the last barrier of civilization. + +“We’re all white here,” murmured Jordan. + +“I know I’m not very popular. I don’t give big parties. I suppose +you’ve got to make your house into a pigsty in order to have any +friends—in the modern world.” + +Angry as I was, as we all were, I was tempted to laugh whenever he +opened his mouth. The transition from libertine to prig was so +complete. + +“I’ve got something to tell you, old sport—” began Gatsby. But Daisy +guessed at his intention. + +“Please don’t!” she interrupted helplessly. “Please let’s all go +home. Why don’t we all go home?” + +“That’s a good idea,” I got up. “Come on, Tom. Nobody wants a drink.” + +“I want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me.” + +“Your wife doesn’t love you,” said Gatsby. “She’s never loved you. +She loves me.” + +“You must be crazy!” exclaimed Tom automatically. + +Gatsby sprang to his feet, vivid with excitement. + +“She never loved you, do you hear?” he cried. “She only married you +because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a +terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved anyone except me!” + +At this point Jordan and I tried to go, but Tom and Gatsby insisted +with competitive firmness that we remain—as though neither of them had +anything to conceal and it would be a privilege to partake vicariously +of their emotions. + +“Sit down, Daisy,” Tom’s voice groped unsuccessfully for the paternal +note. “What’s been going on? I want to hear all about it.” + +“I told you what’s been going on,” said Gatsby. “Going on for five +years—and you didn’t know.” + +Tom turned to Daisy sharply. + +“You’ve been seeing this fellow for five years?” + +“Not seeing,” said Gatsby. “No, we couldn’t meet. But both of us loved +each other all that time, old sport, and you didn’t know. I used to +laugh sometimes”—but there was no laughter in his eyes—“to think that +you didn’t know.” + +“Oh—that’s all.” Tom tapped his thick fingers together like a +clergyman and leaned back in his chair. + +“You’re crazy!” he exploded. “I can’t speak about what happened five +years ago, because I didn’t know Daisy then—and I’ll be damned if I +see how you got within a mile of her unless you brought the groceries +to the back door. But all the rest of that’s a God damned lie. Daisy +loved me when she married me and she loves me now.” + +“No,” said Gatsby, shaking his head. + +“She does, though. The trouble is that sometimes she gets foolish +ideas in her head and doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He nodded +sagely. “And what’s more, I love Daisy too. Once in a while I go off +on a spree and make a fool of myself, but I always come back, and in +my heart I love her all the time.” + +“You’re revolting,” said Daisy. She turned to me, and her voice, +dropping an octave lower, filled the room with thrilling scorn: “Do +you know why we left Chicago? I’m surprised that they didn’t treat you +to the story of that little spree.” + +Gatsby walked over and stood beside her. + +“Daisy, that’s all over now,” he said earnestly. “It doesn’t matter +any more. Just tell him the truth—that you never loved him—and it’s +all wiped out forever.” + +She looked at him blindly. “Why—how could I love him—possibly?” + +“You never loved him.” + +She hesitated. Her eyes fell on Jordan and me with a sort of appeal, +as though she realized at last what she was doing—and as though she +had never, all along, intended doing anything at all. But it was done +now. It was too late. + +“I never loved him,” she said, with perceptible reluctance. + +“Not at Kapiolani?” demanded Tom suddenly. + +“No.” + +From the ballroom beneath, muffled and suffocating chords were +drifting up on hot waves of air. + +“Not that day I carried you down from the Punch Bowl to keep your +shoes dry?” There was a husky tenderness in his tone … “Daisy?” + +“Please don’t.” Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. +She looked at Gatsby. “There, Jay,” she said—but her hand as she tried +to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette +and the burning match on the carpet. + +“Oh, you want too much!” she cried to Gatsby. “I love you now—isn’t +that enough? I can’t help what’s past.” She began to sob +helplessly. “I did love him once—but I loved you too.” + +Gatsby’s eyes opened and closed. + +“You loved me too?” he repeated. + +“Even that’s a lie,” said Tom savagely. “She didn’t know you were +alive. Why—there’s things between Daisy and me that you’ll never know, +things that neither of us can ever forget.” + +The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby. + +“I want to speak to Daisy alone,” he insisted. “She’s all excited +now—” + +“Even alone I can’t say I never loved Tom,” she admitted in a pitiful +voice. “It wouldn’t be true.” + +“Of course it wouldn’t,” agreed Tom. + +She turned to her husband. + +“As if it mattered to you,” she said. + +“Of course it matters. I’m going to take better care of you from now +on.” + +“You don’t understand,” said Gatsby, with a touch of panic. “You’re +not going to take care of her any more.” + +“I’m not?” Tom opened his eyes wide and laughed. He could afford to +control himself now. “Why’s that?” + +“Daisy’s leaving you.” + +“Nonsense.” + +“I am, though,” she said with a visible effort. + +“She’s not leaving me!” Tom’s words suddenly leaned down over Gatsby. +“Certainly not for a common swindler who’d have to steal the ring he +put on her finger.” + +“I won’t stand this!” cried Daisy. “Oh, please let’s get out.” + +“Who are you, anyhow?” broke out Tom. “You’re one of that bunch that +hangs around with Meyer Wolfshiem—that much I happen to know. I’ve +made a little investigation into your affairs—and I’ll carry it +further tomorrow.” + +“You can suit yourself about that, old sport,” said Gatsby steadily. + +“I found out what your ‘drugstores’ were.” He turned to us and spoke +rapidly. “He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street +drugstores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the +counter. That’s one of his little stunts. I picked him for a +bootlegger the first time I saw him, and I wasn’t far wrong.” + +“What about it?” said Gatsby politely. “I guess your friend Walter +Chase wasn’t too proud to come in on it.” + +“And you left him in the lurch, didn’t you? You let him go to jail for +a month over in New Jersey. God! You ought to hear Walter on the +subject of you.” + +“He came to us dead broke. He was very glad to pick up some money, old +sport.” + +“Don’t you call me ‘old sport’!” cried Tom. Gatsby said +nothing. “Walter could have you up on the betting laws too, but +Wolfshiem scared him into shutting his mouth.” + +That unfamiliar yet recognizable look was back again in Gatsby’s face. + +“That drugstore business was just small change,” continued Tom slowly, +“but you’ve got something on now that Walter’s afraid to tell me +about.” + +I glanced at Daisy, who was staring terrified between Gatsby and her +husband, and at Jordan, who had begun to balance an invisible but +absorbing object on the tip of her chin. Then I turned back to +Gatsby—and was startled at his expression. He looked—and this is said +in all contempt for the babbled slander of his garden—as if he had +“killed a man.” For a moment the set of his face could be described in +just that fantastic way. + +It passed, and he began to talk excitedly to Daisy, denying +everything, defending his name against accusations that had not been +made. But with every word she was drawing further and further into +herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the +afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, +struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across +the room. + +The voice begged again to go. + +“Please, Tom! I can’t stand this any more.” + +Her frightened eyes told that whatever intentions, whatever courage +she had had, were definitely gone. + +“You two start on home, Daisy,” said Tom. “In Mr. Gatsby’s car.” + +She looked at Tom, alarmed now, but he insisted with magnanimous +scorn. + +“Go on. He won’t annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuous +little flirtation is over.” + +They were gone, without a word, snapped out, made accidental, +isolated, like ghosts, even from our pity. + +After a moment Tom got up and began wrapping the unopened bottle of +whisky in the towel. + +“Want any of this stuff? Jordan? … Nick?” + +I didn’t answer. + +“Nick?” He asked again. + +“What?” + +“Want any?” + +“No … I just remembered that today’s my birthday.” + +I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a +new decade. + +It was seven o’clock when we got into the coupé with him and started +for Long Island. Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but +his voice was as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamour on +the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead. Human sympathy +has its limits, and we were content to let all their tragic arguments +fade with the city lights behind. Thirty—the promise of a decade of +loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning +briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside +me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten +dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face +fell lazily against my coat’s shoulder and the formidable stroke of +thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand. + +So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The young Greek, Michaelis, who ran the coffee joint beside the +ash-heaps was the principal witness at the inquest. He had slept +through the heat until after five, when he strolled over to the +garage, and found George Wilson sick in his office—really sick, pale +as his own pale hair and shaking all over. Michaelis advised him to go +to bed, but Wilson refused, saying that he’d miss a lot of business if +he did. While his neighbour was trying to persuade him a violent +racket broke out overhead. + +“I’ve got my wife locked in up there,” explained Wilson calmly. +“She’s going to stay there till the day after tomorrow, and then we’re +going to move away.” + +Michaelis was astonished; they had been neighbours for four years, and +Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement. +Generally he was one of these worn-out men: when he wasn’t working, he +sat on a chair in the doorway and stared at the people and the cars +that passed along the road. When anyone spoke to him he invariably +laughed in an agreeable, colourless way. He was his wife’s man and not +his own. + +So naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened, but Wilson +wouldn’t say a word—instead he began to throw curious, suspicious +glances at his visitor and ask him what he’d been doing at certain +times on certain days. Just as the latter was getting uneasy, some +workmen came past the door bound for his restaurant, and Michaelis +took the opportunity to get away, intending to come back later. But he +didn’t. He supposed he forgot to, that’s all. When he came outside +again, a little after seven, he was reminded of the conversation +because he heard Mrs. Wilson’s voice, loud and scolding, downstairs in +the garage. + +“Beat me!” he heard her cry. “Throw me down and beat me, you dirty +little coward!” + +A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and +shouting—before he could move from his door the business was over. + +The “death car” as the newspapers called it, didn’t stop; it came out +of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment, and then +disappeared around the next bend. Mavro Michaelis wasn’t even sure of +its colour—he told the first policeman that it was light green. The +other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards +beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life +violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark +blood with the dust. + +Michaelis and this man reached her first, but when they had torn open +her shirtwaist, still damp with perspiration, they saw that her left +breast was swinging loose like a flap, and there was no need to listen +for the heart beneath. The mouth was wide open and ripped a little at +the corners, as though she had choked a little in giving up the +tremendous vitality she had stored so long. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd when we were still +some distance away. + +“Wreck!” said Tom. “That’s good. Wilson’ll have a little business at +last.” + +He slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping, until, as +we came nearer, the hushed, intent faces of the people at the garage +door made him automatically put on the brakes. + +“We’ll take a look,” he said doubtfully, “just a look.” + +I became aware now of a hollow, wailing sound which issued incessantly +from the garage, a sound which as we got out of the coupé and walked +toward the door resolved itself into the words “Oh, my God!” uttered +over and over in a gasping moan. + +“There’s some bad trouble here,” said Tom excitedly. + +He reached up on tiptoes and peered over a circle of heads into the +garage, which was lit only by a yellow light in a swinging metal +basket overhead. Then he made a harsh sound in his throat, and with a +violent thrusting movement of his powerful arms pushed his way +through. + +The circle closed up again with a running murmur of expostulation; it +was a minute before I could see anything at all. Then new arrivals +deranged the line, and Jordan and I were pushed suddenly inside. + +Myrtle Wilson’s body, wrapped in a blanket, and then in another +blanket, as though she suffered from a chill in the hot night, lay on +a worktable by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us, was bending +over it, motionless. Next to him stood a motorcycle policeman taking +down names with much sweat and correction in a little book. At first I +couldn’t find the source of the high, groaning words that echoed +clamorously through the bare garage—then I saw Wilson standing on the +raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and holding to +the doorposts with both hands. Some man was talking to him in a low +voice and attempting, from time to time, to lay a hand on his +shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop slowly +from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk +back to the light again, and he gave out incessantly his high, +horrible call: + +“Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od!” + +Presently Tom lifted his head with a jerk and, after staring around +the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled incoherent remark to +the policeman. + +“M-a-v—” the policeman was saying, “—o—” + +“No, r—” corrected the man, “M-a-v-r-o—” + +“Listen to me!” muttered Tom fiercely. + +“r—” said the policeman, “o—” + +“g—” + +“g—” He looked up as Tom’s broad hand fell sharply on his shoulder. +“What you want, fella?” + +“What happened?—that’s what I want to know.” + +“Auto hit her. Ins’antly killed.” + +“Instantly killed,” repeated Tom, staring. + +“She ran out ina road. Son-of-a-bitch didn’t even stopus car.” + +“There was two cars,” said Michaelis, “one comin’, one goin’, see?” + +“Going where?” asked the policeman keenly. + +“One goin’ each way. Well, she”—his hand rose toward the blankets but +stopped halfway and fell to his side—“she ran out there an’ the one +comin’ from N’York knock right into her, goin’ thirty or forty miles +an hour.” + +“What’s the name of this place here?” demanded the officer. + +“Hasn’t got any name.” + +A pale well-dressed negro stepped near. + +“It was a yellow car,” he said, “big yellow car. New.” + +“See the accident?” asked the policeman. + +“No, but the car passed me down the road, going faster’n forty. Going +fifty, sixty.” + +“Come here and let’s have your name. Look out now. I want to get his +name.” + +Some words of this conversation must have reached Wilson, swaying in +the office door, for suddenly a new theme found voice among his +grasping cries: + +“You don’t have to tell me what kind of car it was! I know what kind +of car it was!” + +Watching Tom, I saw the wad of muscle back of his shoulder tighten +under his coat. He walked quickly over to Wilson and, standing in +front of him, seized him firmly by the upper arms. + +“You’ve got to pull yourself together,” he said with soothing +gruffness. + +Wilson’s eyes fell upon Tom; he started up on his tiptoes and then +would have collapsed to his knees had not Tom held him upright. + +“Listen,” said Tom, shaking him a little. “I just got here a minute +ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coupé we’ve been talking +about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn’t mine—do you +hear? I haven’t seen it all afternoon.” + +Only the negro and I were near enough to hear what he said, but the +policeman caught something in the tone and looked over with truculent +eyes. + +“What’s all that?” he demanded. + +“I’m a friend of his.” Tom turned his head but kept his hands firm on +Wilson’s body. “He says he knows the car that did it … It was a yellow +car.” + +Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom. + +“And what colour’s your car?” + +“It’s a blue car, a coupé.” + +“We’ve come straight from New York,” I said. + +Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this, and +the policeman turned away. + +“Now, if you’ll let me have that name again correct—” + +Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set +him down in a chair, and came back. + +“If somebody’ll come here and sit with him,” he snapped +authoritatively. He watched while the two men standing closest glanced +at each other and went unwillingly into the room. Then Tom shut the +door on them and came down the single step, his eyes avoiding the +table. As he passed close to me he whispered: “Let’s get out.” + +Self-consciously, with his authoritative arms breaking the way, we +pushed through the still gathering crowd, passing a hurried doctor, +case in hand, who had been sent for in wild hope half an hour ago. + +Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend—then his foot came down +hard, and the coupé raced along through the night. In a little while I +heard a low husky sob, and saw that the tears were overflowing down +his face. + +“The God damned coward!” he whimpered. “He didn’t even stop his car.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The Buchanans’ house floated suddenly toward us through the dark +rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the +second floor, where two windows bloomed with light among the vines. + +“Daisy’s home,” he said. As we got out of the car he glanced at me and +frowned slightly. + +“I ought to have dropped you in West Egg, Nick. There’s nothing we can +do tonight.” + +A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, and with decision. +As we walked across the moonlight gravel to the porch he disposed of +the situation in a few brisk phrases. + +“I’ll telephone for a taxi to take you home, and while you’re waiting +you and Jordan better go in the kitchen and have them get you some +supper—if you want any.” He opened the door. “Come in.” + +“No, thanks. But I’d be glad if you’d order me the taxi. I’ll wait +outside.” + +Jordan put her hand on my arm. + +“Won’t you come in, Nick?” + +“No, thanks.” + +I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone. But Jordan +lingered for a moment more. + +“It’s only half-past nine,” she said. + +I’d be damned if I’d go in; I’d had enough of all of them for one day, +and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen something of +this in my expression, for she turned abruptly away and ran up the +porch steps into the house. I sat down for a few minutes with my head +in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the butler’s +voice calling a taxi. Then I walked slowly down the drive away from +the house, intending to wait by the gate. + +I hadn’t gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped +from between two bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird +by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity +of his pink suit under the moon. + +“What are you doing?” I inquired. + +“Just standing here, old sport.” + +Somehow, that seemed a despicable occupation. For all I knew he was +going to rob the house in a moment; I wouldn’t have been surprised to +see sinister faces, the faces of “Wolfshiem’s people,” behind him in +the dark shrubbery. + +“Did you see any trouble on the road?” he asked after a minute. + +“Yes.” + +He hesitated. + +“Was she killed?” + +“Yes.” + +“I thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. It’s better that the shock +should all come at once. She stood it pretty well.” + +He spoke as if Daisy’s reaction was the only thing that mattered. + +“I got to West Egg by a side road,” he went on, “and left the car in +my garage. I don’t think anybody saw us, but of course I can’t be +sure.” + +I disliked him so much by this time that I didn’t find it necessary to +tell him he was wrong. + +“Who was the woman?” he inquired. + +“Her name was Wilson. Her husband owns the garage. How the devil did +it happen?” + +“Well, I tried to swing the wheel—” He broke off, and suddenly I +guessed at the truth. + +“Was Daisy driving?” + +“Yes,” he said after a moment, “but of course I’ll say I was. You see, +when we left New York she was very nervous and she thought it would +steady her to drive—and this woman rushed out at us just as we were +passing a car coming the other way. It all happened in a minute, but +it seemed to me that she wanted to speak to us, thought we were +somebody she knew. Well, first Daisy turned away from the woman toward +the other car, and then she lost her nerve and turned back. The second +my hand reached the wheel I felt the shock—it must have killed her +instantly.” + +“It ripped her open—” + +“Don’t tell me, old sport.” He winced. “Anyhow—Daisy stepped on it. I +tried to make her stop, but she couldn’t, so I pulled on the emergency +brake. Then she fell over into my lap and I drove on. + +“She’ll be all right tomorrow,” he said presently. “I’m just going to +wait here and see if he tries to bother her about that unpleasantness +this afternoon. She’s locked herself into her room, and if he tries +any brutality she’s going to turn the light out and on again.” + +“He won’t touch her,” I said. “He’s not thinking about her.” + +“I don’t trust him, old sport.” + +“How long are you going to wait?” + +“All night, if necessary. Anyhow, till they all go to bed.” + +A new point of view occurred to me. Suppose Tom found out that Daisy +had been driving. He might think he saw a connection in it—he might +think anything. I looked at the house; there were two or three bright +windows downstairs and the pink glow from Daisy’s room on the ground +floor. + +“You wait here,” I said. “I’ll see if there’s any sign of a +commotion.” + +I walked back along the border of the lawn, traversed the gravel +softly, and tiptoed up the veranda steps. The drawing-room curtains +were open, and I saw that the room was empty. Crossing the porch where +we had dined that June night three months before, I came to a small +rectangle of light which I guessed was the pantry window. The blind +was drawn, but I found a rift at the sill. + +Daisy and Tom were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, +with a plate of cold fried chicken between them, and two bottles of +ale. He was talking intently across the table at her, and in his +earnestness his hand had fallen upon and covered her own. Once in a +while she looked up at him and nodded in agreement. + +They weren’t happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the +ale—and yet they weren’t unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air +of natural intimacy about the picture, and anybody would have said +that they were conspiring together. + +As I tiptoed from the porch I heard my taxi feeling its way along the +dark road toward the house. Gatsby was waiting where I had left him in +the drive. + +“Is it all quiet up there?” he asked anxiously. + +“Yes, it’s all quiet.” I hesitated. “You’d better come home and get +some sleep.” + +He shook his head. + +“I want to wait here till Daisy goes to bed. Good night, old sport.” + +He put his hands in his coat pockets and turned back eagerly to his +scrutiny of the house, as though my presence marred the sacredness of +the vigil. So I walked away and left him standing there in the +moonlight—watching over nothing. + + + VIII + +I couldn’t sleep all night; a foghorn was groaning incessantly on the +Sound, and I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage, +frightening dreams. Toward dawn I heard a taxi go up Gatsby’s drive, +and immediately I jumped out of bed and began to dress—I felt that I +had something to tell him, something to warn him about, and morning +would be too late. + +Crossing his lawn, I saw that his front door was still open and he was +leaning against a table in the hall, heavy with dejection or sleep. + +“Nothing happened,” he said wanly. “I waited, and about four o’clock +she came to the window and stood there for a minute and then turned +out the light.” + +His house had never seemed so enormous to me as it did that night when +we hunted through the great rooms for cigarettes. We pushed aside +curtains that were like pavilions, and felt over innumerable feet of +dark wall for electric light switches—once I tumbled with a sort of +splash upon the keys of a ghostly piano. There was an inexplicable +amount of dust everywhere, and the rooms were musty, as though they +hadn’t been aired for many days. I found the humidor on an unfamiliar +table, with two stale, dry cigarettes inside. Throwing open the French +windows of the drawing-room, we sat smoking out into the darkness. + +“You ought to go away,” I said. “It’s pretty certain they’ll trace +your car.” + +“Go away now, old sport?” + +“Go to Atlantic City for a week, or up to Montreal.” + +He wouldn’t consider it. He couldn’t possibly leave Daisy until he +knew what she was going to do. He was clutching at some last hope and +I couldn’t bear to shake him free. + +It was this night that he told me the strange story of his youth with +Dan Cody—told it to me because “Jay Gatsby” had broken up like glass +against Tom’s hard malice, and the long secret extravaganza was played +out. I think that he would have acknowledged anything now, without +reserve, but he wanted to talk about Daisy. + +She was the first “nice” girl he had ever known. In various unrevealed +capacities he had come in contact with such people, but always with +indiscernible barbed wire between. He found her excitingly +desirable. He went to her house, at first with other officers from +Camp Taylor, then alone. It amazed him—he had never been in such a +beautiful house before. But what gave it an air of breathless +intensity, was that Daisy lived there—it was as casual a thing to her +as his tent out at camp was to him. There was a ripe mystery about it, +a hint of bedrooms upstairs more beautiful and cool than other +bedrooms, of gay and radiant activities taking place through its +corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already +in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year’s +shining motorcars and of dances whose flowers were scarcely +withered. It excited him, too, that many men had already loved +Daisy—it increased her value in his eyes. He felt their presence all +about the house, pervading the air with the shades and echoes of still +vibrant emotions. + +But he knew that he was in Daisy’s house by a colossal +accident. However glorious might be his future as Jay Gatsby, he was +at present a penniless young man without a past, and at any moment the +invisible cloak of his uniform might slip from his shoulders. So he +made the most of his time. He took what he could get, ravenously and +unscrupulously—eventually he took Daisy one still October night, took +her because he had no real right to touch her hand. + +He might have despised himself, for he had certainly taken her under +false pretences. I don’t mean that he had traded on his phantom +millions, but he had deliberately given Daisy a sense of security; he +let her believe that he was a person from much the same strata as +herself—that he was fully able to take care of her. As a matter of +fact, he had no such facilities—he had no comfortable family standing +behind him, and he was liable at the whim of an impersonal government +to be blown anywhere about the world. + +But he didn’t despise himself and it didn’t turn out as he had +imagined. He had intended, probably, to take what he could and go—but +now he found that he had committed himself to the following of a +grail. He knew that Daisy was extraordinary, but he didn’t realize +just how extraordinary a “nice” girl could be. She vanished into her +rich house, into her rich, full life, leaving Gatsby—nothing. He felt +married to her, that was all. + +When they met again, two days later, it was Gatsby who was breathless, +who was, somehow, betrayed. Her porch was bright with the bought +luxury of star-shine; the wicker of the settee squeaked fashionably as +she turned toward him and he kissed her curious and lovely mouth. She +had caught a cold, and it made her voice huskier and more charming +than ever, and Gatsby was overwhelmingly aware of the youth and +mystery that wealth imprisons and preserves, of the freshness of many +clothes, and of Daisy, gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the +hot struggles of the poor. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +“I can’t describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, +old sport. I even hoped for a while that she’d throw me over, but she +didn’t, because she was in love with me too. She thought I knew a lot +because I knew different things from her … Well, there I was, way off +my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden +I didn’t care. What was the use of doing great things if I could have +a better time telling her what I was going to do?” + +On the last afternoon before he went abroad, he sat with Daisy in his +arms for a long, silent time. It was a cold fall day, with fire in the +room and her cheeks flushed. Now and then she moved and he changed his +arm a little, and once he kissed her dark shining hair. The afternoon +had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory +for the long parting the next day promised. They had never been closer +in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with +another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat’s shoulder +or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were +asleep. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +He did extraordinarily well in the war. He was a captain before he +went to the front, and following the Argonne battles he got his +majority and the command of the divisional machine-guns. After the +armistice he tried frantically to get home, but some complication or +misunderstanding sent him to Oxford instead. He was worried now—there +was a quality of nervous despair in Daisy’s letters. She didn’t see +why he couldn’t come. She was feeling the pressure of the world +outside, and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her +and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all. + +For Daisy was young and her artificial world was redolent of orchids +and pleasant, cheerful snobbery and orchestras which set the rhythm of +the year, summing up the sadness and suggestiveness of life in new +tunes. All night the saxophones wailed the hopeless comment of the +“Beale Street Blues” while a hundred pairs of golden and silver +slippers shuffled the shining dust. At the grey tea hour there were +always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever, +while fresh faces drifted here and there like rose petals blown by the +sad horns around the floor. + +Through this twilight universe Daisy began to move again with the +season; suddenly she was again keeping half a dozen dates a day with +half a dozen men, and drowsing asleep at dawn with the beads and +chiffon of an evening-dress tangled among dying orchids on the floor +beside her bed. And all the time something within her was crying for a +decision. She wanted her life shaped now, immediately—and the decision +must be made by some force—of love, of money, of unquestionable +practicality—that was close at hand. + +That force took shape in the middle of spring with the arrival of Tom +Buchanan. There was a wholesome bulkiness about his person and his +position, and Daisy was flattered. Doubtless there was a certain +struggle and a certain relief. The letter reached Gatsby while he was +still at Oxford. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +It was dawn now on Long Island and we went about opening the rest of +the windows downstairs, filling the house with grey-turning, +gold-turning light. The shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the dew +and ghostly birds began to sing among the blue leaves. There was a +slow, pleasant movement in the air, scarcely a wind, promising a cool, +lovely day. + +“I don’t think she ever loved him.” Gatsby turned around from a window +and looked at me challengingly. “You must remember, old sport, she was +very excited this afternoon. He told her those things in a way that +frightened her—that made it look as if I was some kind of cheap +sharper. And the result was she hardly knew what she was saying.” + +He sat down gloomily. + +“Of course she might have loved him just for a minute, when they were +first married—and loved me more even then, do you see?” + +Suddenly he came out with a curious remark. + +“In any case,” he said, “it was just personal.” + +What could you make of that, except to suspect some intensity in his +conception of the affair that couldn’t be measured? + +He came back from France when Tom and Daisy were still on their +wedding trip, and made a miserable but irresistible journey to +Louisville on the last of his army pay. He stayed there a week, +walking the streets where their footsteps had clicked together through +the November night and revisiting the out-of-the-way places to which +they had driven in her white car. Just as Daisy’s house had always +seemed to him more mysterious and gay than other houses, so his idea +of the city itself, even though she was gone from it, was pervaded +with a melancholy beauty. + +He left feeling that if he had searched harder, he might have found +her—that he was leaving her behind. The day-coach—he was penniless +now—was hot. He went out to the open vestibule and sat down on a +folding-chair, and the station slid away and the backs of unfamiliar +buildings moved by. Then out into the spring fields, where a yellow +trolley raced them for a minute with people in it who might once have +seen the pale magic of her face along the casual street. + +The track curved and now it was going away from the sun, which, as it +sank lower, seemed to spread itself in benediction over the vanishing +city where she had drawn her breath. He stretched out his hand +desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of +the spot that she had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too +fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part +of it, the freshest and the best, forever. + +It was nine o’clock when we finished breakfast and went out on the +porch. The night had made a sharp difference in the weather and there +was an autumn flavour in the air. The gardener, the last one of +Gatsby’s former servants, came to the foot of the steps. + +“I’m going to drain the pool today, Mr. Gatsby. Leaves’ll start +falling pretty soon, and then there’s always trouble with the pipes.” + +“Don’t do it today,” Gatsby answered. He turned to me apologetically. +“You know, old sport, I’ve never used that pool all summer?” + +I looked at my watch and stood up. + +“Twelve minutes to my train.” + +I didn’t want to go to the city. I wasn’t worth a decent stroke of +work, but it was more than that—I didn’t want to leave Gatsby. I +missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away. + +“I’ll call you up,” I said finally. + +“Do, old sport.” + +“I’ll call you about noon.” + +We walked slowly down the steps. + +“I suppose Daisy’ll call too.” He looked at me anxiously, as if he +hoped I’d corroborate this. + +“I suppose so.” + +“Well, goodbye.” + +We shook hands and I started away. Just before I reached the hedge I +remembered something and turned around. + +“They’re a rotten crowd,” I shouted across the lawn. “You’re worth the +whole damn bunch put together.” + +I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever +gave him, because I disapproved of him from beginning to end. First he +nodded politely, and then his face broke into that radiant and +understanding smile, as if we’d been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact +all the time. His gorgeous pink rag of a suit made a bright spot of +colour against the white steps, and I thought of the night when I +first came to his ancestral home, three months before. The lawn and +drive had been crowded with the faces of those who guessed at his +corruption—and he had stood on those steps, concealing his +incorruptible dream, as he waved them goodbye. + +I thanked him for his hospitality. We were always thanking him for +that—I and the others. + +“Goodbye,” I called. “I enjoyed breakfast, Gatsby.” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Up in the city, I tried for a while to list the quotations on an +interminable amount of stock, then I fell asleep in my swivel-chair. +Just before noon the phone woke me, and I started up with sweat +breaking out on my forehead. It was Jordan Baker; she often called me +up at this hour because the uncertainty of her own movements between +hotels and clubs and private houses made her hard to find in any other +way. Usually her voice came over the wire as something fresh and cool, +as if a divot from a green golf-links had come sailing in at the +office window, but this morning it seemed harsh and dry. + +“I’ve left Daisy’s house,” she said. “I’m at Hempstead, and I’m going +down to Southampton this afternoon.” + +Probably it had been tactful to leave Daisy’s house, but the act +annoyed me, and her next remark made me rigid. + +“You weren’t so nice to me last night.” + +“How could it have mattered then?” + +Silence for a moment. Then: + +“However—I want to see you.” + +“I want to see you, too.” + +“Suppose I don’t go to Southampton, and come into town this +afternoon?” + +“No—I don’t think this afternoon.” + +“Very well.” + +“It’s impossible this afternoon. Various—” + +We talked like that for a while, and then abruptly we weren’t talking +any longer. I don’t know which of us hung up with a sharp click, but I +know I didn’t care. I couldn’t have talked to her across a tea-table +that day if I never talked to her again in this world. + +I called Gatsby’s house a few minutes later, but the line was busy. I +tried four times; finally an exasperated central told me the wire was +being kept open for long distance from Detroit. Taking out my +timetable, I drew a small circle around the three-fifty train. Then I +leaned back in my chair and tried to think. It was just noon. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +When I passed the ash-heaps on the train that morning I had crossed +deliberately to the other side of the car. I supposed there’d be a +curious crowd around there all day with little boys searching for dark +spots in the dust, and some garrulous man telling over and over what +had happened, until it became less and less real even to him and he +could tell it no longer, and Myrtle Wilson’s tragic achievement was +forgotten. Now I want to go back a little and tell what happened at +the garage after we left there the night before. + +They had difficulty in locating the sister, Catherine. She must have +broken her rule against drinking that night, for when she arrived she +was stupid with liquor and unable to understand that the ambulance had +already gone to Flushing. When they convinced her of this, she +immediately fainted, as if that was the intolerable part of the +affair. Someone, kind or curious, took her in his car and drove her in +the wake of her sister’s body. + +Until long after midnight a changing crowd lapped up against the front +of the garage, while George Wilson rocked himself back and forth on +the couch inside. For a while the door of the office was open, and +everyone who came into the garage glanced irresistibly through it. +Finally someone said it was a shame, and closed the door. Michaelis +and several other men were with him; first, four or five men, later +two or three men. Still later Michaelis had to ask the last stranger +to wait there fifteen minutes longer, while he went back to his own +place and made a pot of coffee. After that, he stayed there alone with +Wilson until dawn. + +About three o’clock the quality of Wilson’s incoherent muttering +changed—he grew quieter and began to talk about the yellow car. He +announced that he had a way of finding out whom the yellow car +belonged to, and then he blurted out that a couple of months ago his +wife had come from the city with her face bruised and her nose +swollen. + +But when he heard himself say this, he flinched and began to cry “Oh, +my God!” again in his groaning voice. Michaelis made a clumsy attempt +to distract him. + +“How long have you been married, George? Come on there, try and sit +still a minute, and answer my question. How long have you been +married?” + +“Twelve years.” + +“Ever had any children? Come on, George, sit still—I asked you a +question. Did you ever have any children?” + +The hard brown beetles kept thudding against the dull light, and +whenever Michaelis heard a car go tearing along the road outside it +sounded to him like the car that hadn’t stopped a few hours before. +He didn’t like to go into the garage, because the work bench was +stained where the body had been lying, so he moved uncomfortably +around the office—he knew every object in it before morning—and from +time to time sat down beside Wilson trying to keep him more quiet. + +“Have you got a church you go to sometimes, George? Maybe even if you +haven’t been there for a long time? Maybe I could call up the church +and get a priest to come over and he could talk to you, see?” + +“Don’t belong to any.” + +“You ought to have a church, George, for times like this. You must +have gone to church once. Didn’t you get married in a church? Listen, +George, listen to me. Didn’t you get married in a church?” + +“That was a long time ago.” + +The effort of answering broke the rhythm of his rocking—for a moment +he was silent. Then the same half-knowing, half-bewildered look came +back into his faded eyes. + +“Look in the drawer there,” he said, pointing at the desk. + +“Which drawer?” + +“That drawer—that one.” + +Michaelis opened the drawer nearest his hand. There was nothing in it +but a small, expensive dog-leash, made of leather and braided +silver. It was apparently new. + +“This?” he inquired, holding it up. + +Wilson stared and nodded. + +“I found it yesterday afternoon. She tried to tell me about it, but I +knew it was something funny.” + +“You mean your wife bought it?” + +“She had it wrapped in tissue paper on her bureau.” + +Michaelis didn’t see anything odd in that, and he gave Wilson a dozen +reasons why his wife might have bought the dog-leash. But conceivably +Wilson had heard some of these same explanations before, from Myrtle, +because he began saying “Oh, my God!” again in a whisper—his comforter +left several explanations in the air. + +“Then he killed her,” said Wilson. His mouth dropped open suddenly. + +“Who did?” + +“I have a way of finding out.” + +“You’re morbid, George,” said his friend. “This has been a strain to +you and you don’t know what you’re saying. You’d better try and sit +quiet till morning.” + +“He murdered her.” + +“It was an accident, George.” + +Wilson shook his head. His eyes narrowed and his mouth widened +slightly with the ghost of a superior “Hm!” + +“I know,” he said definitely. “I’m one of these trusting fellas and I +don’t think any harm to nobody, but when I get to know a thing I know +it. It was the man in that car. She ran out to speak to him and he +wouldn’t stop.” + +Michaelis had seen this too, but it hadn’t occurred to him that there +was any special significance in it. He believed that Mrs. Wilson had +been running away from her husband, rather than trying to stop any +particular car. + +“How could she of been like that?” + +“She’s a deep one,” said Wilson, as if that answered the question. +“Ah-h-h—” + +He began to rock again, and Michaelis stood twisting the leash in his +hand. + +“Maybe you got some friend that I could telephone for, George?” + +This was a forlorn hope—he was almost sure that Wilson had no friend: +there was not enough of him for his wife. He was glad a little later +when he noticed a change in the room, a blue quickening by the window, +and realized that dawn wasn’t far off. About five o’clock it was blue +enough outside to snap off the light. + +Wilson’s glazed eyes turned out to the ash-heaps, where small grey +clouds took on fantastic shapes and scurried here and there in the +faint dawn wind. + +“I spoke to her,” he muttered, after a long silence. “I told her she +might fool me but she couldn’t fool God. I took her to the +window”—with an effort he got up and walked to the rear window and +leaned with his face pressed against it—“and I said ‘God knows what +you’ve been doing, everything you’ve been doing. You may fool me, but +you can’t fool God!’ ” + +Standing behind him, Michaelis saw with a shock that he was looking at +the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, which had just emerged, pale and +enormous, from the dissolving night. + +“God sees everything,” repeated Wilson. + +“That’s an advertisement,” Michaelis assured him. Something made him +turn away from the window and look back into the room. But Wilson +stood there a long time, his face close to the window pane, nodding +into the twilight. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +By six o’clock Michaelis was worn out, and grateful for the sound of a +car stopping outside. It was one of the watchers of the night before +who had promised to come back, so he cooked breakfast for three, which +he and the other man ate together. Wilson was quieter now, and +Michaelis went home to sleep; when he awoke four hours later and +hurried back to the garage, Wilson was gone. + +His movements—he was on foot all the time—were afterward traced to +Port Roosevelt and then to Gad’s Hill, where he bought a sandwich that +he didn’t eat, and a cup of coffee. He must have been tired and +walking slowly, for he didn’t reach Gad’s Hill until noon. Thus far +there was no difficulty in accounting for his time—there were boys who +had seen a man “acting sort of crazy,” and motorists at whom he stared +oddly from the side of the road. Then for three hours he disappeared +from view. The police, on the strength of what he said to Michaelis, +that he “had a way of finding out,” supposed that he spent that time +going from garage to garage thereabout, inquiring for a yellow car. On +the other hand, no garage man who had seen him ever came forward, and +perhaps he had an easier, surer way of finding out what he wanted to +know. By half-past two he was in West Egg, where he asked someone the +way to Gatsby’s house. So by that time he knew Gatsby’s name. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +At two o’clock Gatsby put on his bathing-suit and left word with the +butler that if anyone phoned word was to be brought to him at the +pool. He stopped at the garage for a pneumatic mattress that had +amused his guests during the summer, and the chauffeur helped him to +pump it up. Then he gave instructions that the open car wasn’t to be +taken out under any circumstances—and this was strange, because the +front right fender needed repair. + +Gatsby shouldered the mattress and started for the pool. Once he +stopped and shifted it a little, and the chauffeur asked him if he +needed help, but he shook his head and in a moment disappeared among +the yellowing trees. + +No telephone message arrived, but the butler went without his sleep +and waited for it until four o’clock—until long after there was anyone +to give it to if it came. I have an idea that Gatsby himself didn’t +believe it would come, and perhaps he no longer cared. If that was +true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a +high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have +looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered +as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight +was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without +being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted +fortuitously about … like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward +him through the amorphous trees. + +The chauffeur—he was one of Wolfshiem’s protégés—heard the +shots—afterwards he could only say that he hadn’t thought anything +much about them. I drove from the station directly to Gatsby’s house +and my rushing anxiously up the front steps was the first thing that +alarmed anyone. But they knew then, I firmly believe. With scarcely a +word said, four of us, the chauffeur, butler, gardener, and I hurried +down to the pool. + +There was a faint, barely perceptible movement of the water as the +fresh flow from one end urged its way toward the drain at the other. +With little ripples that were hardly the shadows of waves, the laden +mattress moved irregularly down the pool. A small gust of wind that +scarcely corrugated the surface was enough to disturb its accidental +course with its accidental burden. The touch of a cluster of leaves +revolved it slowly, tracing, like the leg of transit, a thin red +circle in the water. + +It was after we started with Gatsby toward the house that the gardener +saw Wilson’s body a little way off in the grass, and the holocaust was +complete. + + + IX + +After two years I remember the rest of that day, and that night and +the next day, only as an endless drill of police and photographers and +newspaper men in and out of Gatsby’s front door. A rope stretched +across the main gate and a policeman by it kept out the curious, but +little boys soon discovered that they could enter through my yard, and +there were always a few of them clustered open-mouthed about the +pool. Someone with a positive manner, perhaps a detective, used the +expression “madman” as he bent over Wilson’s body that afternoon, and +the adventitious authority of his voice set the key for the newspaper +reports next morning. + +Most of those reports were a nightmare—grotesque, circumstantial, +eager, and untrue. When Michaelis’s testimony at the inquest brought +to light Wilson’s suspicions of his wife I thought the whole tale +would shortly be served up in racy pasquinade—but Catherine, who might +have said anything, didn’t say a word. She showed a surprising amount +of character about it too—looked at the coroner with determined eyes +under that corrected brow of hers, and swore that her sister had never +seen Gatsby, that her sister was completely happy with her husband, +that her sister had been into no mischief whatever. She convinced +herself of it, and cried into her handkerchief, as if the very +suggestion was more than she could endure. So Wilson was reduced to a +man “deranged by grief” in order that the case might remain in its +simplest form. And it rested there. + +But all this part of it seemed remote and unessential. I found myself +on Gatsby’s side, and alone. From the moment I telephoned news of the +catastrophe to West Egg village, every surmise about him, and every +practical question, was referred to me. At first I was surprised and +confused; then, as he lay in his house and didn’t move or breathe or +speak, hour upon hour, it grew upon me that I was responsible, because +no one else was interested—interested, I mean, with that intense +personal interest to which everyone has some vague right at the end. + +I called up Daisy half an hour after we found him, called her +instinctively and without hesitation. But she and Tom had gone away +early that afternoon, and taken baggage with them. + +“Left no address?” + +“No.” + +“Say when they’d be back?” + +“No.” + +“Any idea where they are? How I could reach them?” + +“I don’t know. Can’t say.” + +I wanted to get somebody for him. I wanted to go into the room where +he lay and reassure him: “I’ll get somebody for you, Gatsby. Don’t +worry. Just trust me and I’ll get somebody for you—” + +Meyer Wolfshiem’s name wasn’t in the phone book. The butler gave me +his office address on Broadway, and I called Information, but by the +time I had the number it was long after five, and no one answered the +phone. + +“Will you ring again?” + +“I’ve rung three times.” + +“It’s very important.” + +“Sorry. I’m afraid no one’s there.” + +I went back to the drawing-room and thought for an instant that they +were chance visitors, all these official people who suddenly filled +it. But, though they drew back the sheet and looked at Gatsby with +shocked eyes, his protest continued in my brain: + +“Look here, old sport, you’ve got to get somebody for me. You’ve got +to try hard. I can’t go through this alone.” + +Someone started to ask me questions, but I broke away and going +upstairs looked hastily through the unlocked parts of his desk—he’d +never told me definitely that his parents were dead. But there was +nothing—only the picture of Dan Cody, a token of forgotten violence, +staring down from the wall. + +Next morning I sent the butler to New York with a letter to Wolfshiem, +which asked for information and urged him to come out on the next +train. That request seemed superfluous when I wrote it. I was sure +he’d start when he saw the newspapers, just as I was sure there’d be a +wire from Daisy before noon—but neither a wire nor Mr. Wolfshiem +arrived; no one arrived except more police and photographers and +newspaper men. When the butler brought back Wolfshiem’s answer I began +to have a feeling of defiance, of scornful solidarity between Gatsby +and me against them all. + + Dear Mr. Carraway. This has been one of the most terrible shocks of + my life to me I hardly can believe it that it is true at all. Such a + mad act as that man did should make us all think. I cannot come down + now as I am tied up in some very important business and cannot get + mixed up in this thing now. If there is anything I can do a little + later let me know in a letter by Edgar. I hardly know where I am when + I hear about a thing like this and am completely knocked down and + out. + + Yours truly + + Meyer Wolfshiem + +and then hasty addenda beneath: + + Let me know about the funeral etc do not know his family at all. + +When the phone rang that afternoon and Long Distance said Chicago was +calling I thought this would be Daisy at last. But the connection came +through as a man’s voice, very thin and far away. + +“This is Slagle speaking …” + +“Yes?” The name was unfamiliar. + +“Hell of a note, isn’t it? Get my wire?” + +“There haven’t been any wires.” + +“Young Parke’s in trouble,” he said rapidly. “They picked him up when +he handed the bonds over the counter. They got a circular from New +York giving ’em the numbers just five minutes before. What d’you know +about that, hey? You never can tell in these hick towns—” + +“Hello!” I interrupted breathlessly. “Look here—this isn’t Mr. +Gatsby. Mr. Gatsby’s dead.” + +There was a long silence on the other end of the wire, followed by an +exclamation … then a quick squawk as the connection was broken. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +I think it was on the third day that a telegram signed Henry C. Gatz +arrived from a town in Minnesota. It said only that the sender was +leaving immediately and to postpone the funeral until he came. + +It was Gatsby’s father, a solemn old man, very helpless and dismayed, +bundled up in a long cheap ulster against the warm September day. His +eyes leaked continuously with excitement, and when I took the bag and +umbrella from his hands he began to pull so incessantly at his sparse +grey beard that I had difficulty in getting off his coat. He was on +the point of collapse, so I took him into the music-room and made him +sit down while I sent for something to eat. But he wouldn’t eat, and +the glass of milk spilled from his trembling hand. + +“I saw it in the Chicago newspaper,” he said. “It was all in the +Chicago newspaper. I started right away.” + +“I didn’t know how to reach you.” + +His eyes, seeing nothing, moved ceaselessly about the room. + +“It was a madman,” he said. “He must have been mad.” + +“Wouldn’t you like some coffee?” I urged him. + +“I don’t want anything. I’m all right now, Mr.—” + +“Carraway.” + +“Well, I’m all right now. Where have they got Jimmy?” + +I took him into the drawing-room, where his son lay, and left him +there. Some little boys had come up on the steps and were looking into +the hall; when I told them who had arrived, they went reluctantly +away. + +After a little while Mr. Gatz opened the door and came out, his mouth +ajar, his face flushed slightly, his eyes leaking isolated and +unpunctual tears. He had reached an age where death no longer has the +quality of ghastly surprise, and when he looked around him now for the +first time and saw the height and splendour of the hall and the great +rooms opening out from it into other rooms, his grief began to be +mixed with an awed pride. I helped him to a bedroom upstairs; while he +took off his coat and vest I told him that all arrangements had been +deferred until he came. + +“I didn’t know what you’d want, Mr. Gatsby—” + +“Gatz is my name.” + +“—Mr. Gatz. I thought you might want to take the body West.” + +He shook his head. + +“Jimmy always liked it better down East. He rose up to his position in +the East. Were you a friend of my boy’s, Mr.—?” + +“We were close friends.” + +“He had a big future before him, you know. He was only a young man, +but he had a lot of brain power here.” + +He touched his head impressively, and I nodded. + +“If he’d of lived, he’d of been a great man. A man like James J. +Hill. He’d of helped build up the country.” + +“That’s true,” I said, uncomfortably. + +He fumbled at the embroidered coverlet, trying to take it from the +bed, and lay down stiffly—was instantly asleep. + +That night an obviously frightened person called up, and demanded to +know who I was before he would give his name. + +“This is Mr. Carraway,” I said. + +“Oh!” He sounded relieved. “This is Klipspringer.” + +I was relieved too, for that seemed to promise another friend at +Gatsby’s grave. I didn’t want it to be in the papers and draw a +sightseeing crowd, so I’d been calling up a few people myself. They +were hard to find. + +“The funeral’s tomorrow,” I said. “Three o’clock, here at the house. +I wish you’d tell anybody who’d be interested.” + +“Oh, I will,” he broke out hastily. “Of course I’m not likely to see +anybody, but if I do.” + +His tone made me suspicious. + +“Of course you’ll be there yourself.” + +“Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is—” + +“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll come?” + +“Well, the fact is—the truth of the matter is that I’m staying with +some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with +them tomorrow. In fact, there’s a sort of picnic or something. Of +course I’ll do my best to get away.” + +I ejaculated an unrestrained “Huh!” and he must have heard me, for he +went on nervously: + +“What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if +it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, +they’re tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them. My +address is care of B. F.—” + +I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the receiver. + +After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby—one gentleman to whom I +telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that was +my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at +Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby’s liquor, and I should have known +better than to call him. + +The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer +Wolfshiem; I couldn’t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I +pushed open, on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The +Swastika Holding Company,” and at first there didn’t seem to be anyone +inside. But when I’d shouted “hello” several times in vain, an +argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess +appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me with black hostile +eyes. + +“Nobody’s in,” she said. “Mr. Wolfshiem’s gone to Chicago.” + +The first part of this was obviously untrue, for someone had begun to +whistle “The Rosary,” tunelessly, inside. + +“Please say that Mr. Carraway wants to see him.” + +“I can’t get him back from Chicago, can I?” + +At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfshiem’s, called “Stella!” +from the other side of the door. + +“Leave your name on the desk,” she said quickly. “I’ll give it to him +when he gets back.” + +“But I know he’s there.” + +She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up +and down her hips. + +“You young men think you can force your way in here any time,” she +scolded. “We’re getting sickantired of it. When I say he’s in Chicago, +he’s in Chicago.” + +I mentioned Gatsby. + +“Oh-h!” She looked at me over again. “Will you just—What was your +name?” + +She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfshiem stood solemnly in the +doorway, holding out both hands. He drew me into his office, remarking +in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered +me a cigar. + +“My memory goes back to when first I met him,” he said. “A young major +just out of the army and covered over with medals he got in the war. +He was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he +couldn’t buy some regular clothes. First time I saw him was when he +came into Winebrenner’s poolroom at Forty-third Street and asked for a +job. He hadn’t eat anything for a couple of days. ‘Come on have some +lunch with me,’ I said. He ate more than four dollars’ worth of food +in half an hour.” + +“Did you start him in business?” I inquired. + +“Start him! I made him.” + +“Oh.” + +“I raised him up out of nothing, right out of the gutter. I saw right +away he was a fine-appearing, gentlemanly young man, and when he told +me he was at Oggsford I knew I could use him good. I got him to join +the American Legion and he used to stand high there. Right off he did +some work for a client of mine up to Albany. We were so thick like +that in everything”—he held up two bulbous fingers—“always together.” + +I wondered if this partnership had included the World’s Series +transaction in 1919. + +“Now he’s dead,” I said after a moment. “You were his closest friend, +so I know you’ll want to come to his funeral this afternoon.” + +“I’d like to come.” + +“Well, come then.” + +The hair in his nostrils quivered slightly, and as he shook his head +his eyes filled with tears. + +“I can’t do it—I can’t get mixed up in it,” he said. + +“There’s nothing to get mixed up in. It’s all over now.” + +“When a man gets killed I never like to get mixed up in it in any +way. I keep out. When I was a young man it was different—if a friend +of mine died, no matter how, I stuck with them to the end. You may +think that’s sentimental, but I mean it—to the bitter end.” + +I saw that for some reason of his own he was determined not to come, +so I stood up. + +“Are you a college man?” he inquired suddenly. + +For a moment I thought he was going to suggest a “gonnegtion,” but he +only nodded and shook my hand. + +“Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and +not after he is dead,” he suggested. “After that my own rule is to let +everything alone.” + +When I left his office the sky had turned dark and I got back to West +Egg in a drizzle. After changing my clothes I went next door and found +Mr. Gatz walking up and down excitedly in the hall. His pride in his +son and in his son’s possessions was continually increasing and now he +had something to show me. + +“Jimmy sent me this picture.” He took out his wallet with trembling +fingers. “Look there.” + +It was a photograph of the house, cracked in the corners and dirty +with many hands. He pointed out every detail to me eagerly. “Look +there!” and then sought admiration from my eyes. He had shown it so +often that I think it was more real to him now than the house itself. + +“Jimmy sent it to me. I think it’s a very pretty picture. It shows up +well.” + +“Very well. Had you seen him lately?” + +“He come out to see me two years ago and bought me the house I live in +now. Of course we was broke up when he run off from home, but I see +now there was a reason for it. He knew he had a big future in front of +him. And ever since he made a success he was very generous with me.” + +He seemed reluctant to put away the picture, held it for another +minute, lingeringly, before my eyes. Then he returned the wallet and +pulled from his pocket a ragged old copy of a book called Hopalong +Cassidy. + +“Look here, this is a book he had when he was a boy. It just shows +you.” + +He opened it at the back cover and turned it around for me to see. On +the last flyleaf was printed the word schedule, and the date September +12, 1906. And underneath: + + Rise from bed 6:00 a.m. + Dumbell exercise and wall-scaling 6:15-6:30 ” + Study electricity, etc. 7:15-8:15 ” + Work 8:30-4:30 p.m. + Baseball and sports 4:30-5:00 ” + Practise elocution, poise and how to attain it 5:00-6:00 ” + Study needed inventions 7:00-9:00 ” + + General Resolves + + * No wasting time at Shafters or [a name, indecipherable] + + * No more smokeing or chewing. + + * Bath every other day + + * Read one improving book or magazine per week + + * Save $5.00 [crossed out] $3.00 per week + + * Be better to parents + +“I came across this book by accident,” said the old man. “It just +shows you, don’t it?” + +“It just shows you.” + +“Jimmy was bound to get ahead. He always had some resolves like this +or something. Do you notice what he’s got about improving his mind? He +was always great for that. He told me I et like a hog once, and I beat +him for it.” + +He was reluctant to close the book, reading each item aloud and then +looking eagerly at me. I think he rather expected me to copy down the +list for my own use. + +A little before three the Lutheran minister arrived from Flushing, and +I began to look involuntarily out the windows for other cars. So did +Gatsby’s father. And as the time passed and the servants came in and +stood waiting in the hall, his eyes began to blink anxiously, and he +spoke of the rain in a worried, uncertain way. The minister glanced +several times at his watch, so I took him aside and asked him to wait +for half an hour. But it wasn’t any use. Nobody came. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +About five o’clock our procession of three cars reached the cemetery +and stopped in a thick drizzle beside the gate—first a motor hearse, +horribly black and wet, then Mr. Gatz and the minister and me in the +limousine, and a little later four or five servants and the postman +from West Egg, in Gatsby’s station wagon, all wet to the skin. As we +started through the gate into the cemetery I heard a car stop and then +the sound of someone splashing after us over the soggy ground. I +looked around. It was the man with owl-eyed glasses whom I had found +marvelling over Gatsby’s books in the library one night three months +before. + +I’d never seen him since then. I don’t know how he knew about the +funeral, or even his name. The rain poured down his thick glasses, and +he took them off and wiped them to see the protecting canvas unrolled +from Gatsby’s grave. + +I tried to think about Gatsby then for a moment, but he was already +too far away, and I could only remember, without resentment, that +Daisy hadn’t sent a message or a flower. Dimly I heard someone murmur +“Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on,” and then the owl-eyed +man said “Amen to that,” in a brave voice. + +We straggled down quickly through the rain to the cars. Owl-eyes spoke +to me by the gate. + +“I couldn’t get to the house,” he remarked. + +“Neither could anybody else.” + +“Go on!” He started. “Why, my God! they used to go there by the +hundreds.” + +He took off his glasses and wiped them again, outside and in. + +“The poor son-of-a-bitch,” he said. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +One of my most vivid memories is of coming back West from prep school +and later from college at Christmas time. Those who went farther than +Chicago would gather in the old dim Union Station at six o’clock of a +December evening, with a few Chicago friends, already caught up into +their own holiday gaieties, to bid them a hasty goodbye. I remember +the fur coats of the girls returning from Miss This-or-That’s and the +chatter of frozen breath and the hands waving overhead as we caught +sight of old acquaintances, and the matchings of invitations: “Are you +going to the Ordways’? the Herseys’? the Schultzes’?” and the long +green tickets clasped tight in our gloved hands. And last the murky +yellow cars of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul railroad looking +cheerful as Christmas itself on the tracks beside the gate. + +When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, +began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and +the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild +brace came suddenly into the air. We drew in deep breaths of it as we +walked back from dinner through the cold vestibules, unutterably aware +of our identity with this country for one strange hour, before we +melted indistinguishably into it again. + +That’s my Middle West—not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede +towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth, and the street +lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly +wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow. I am part of that, a +little solemn with the feel of those long winters, a little complacent +from growing up in the Carraway house in a city where dwellings are +still called through decades by a family’s name. I see now that this +has been a story of the West, after all—Tom and Gatsby, Daisy and +Jordan and I, were all Westerners, and perhaps we possessed some +deficiency in common which made us subtly unadaptable to Eastern life. + +Even when the East excited me most, even when I was most keenly aware +of its superiority to the bored, sprawling, swollen towns beyond the +Ohio, with their interminable inquisitions which spared only the +children and the very old—even then it had always for me a quality of +distortion. West Egg, especially, still figures in my more fantastic +dreams. I see it as a night scene by El Greco: a hundred houses, at +once conventional and grotesque, crouching under a sullen, overhanging +sky and a lustreless moon. In the foreground four solemn men in dress +suits are walking along the sidewalk with a stretcher on which lies a +drunken woman in a white evening dress. Her hand, which dangles over +the side, sparkles cold with jewels. Gravely the men turn in at a +house—the wrong house. But no one knows the woman’s name, and no one +cares. + +After Gatsby’s death the East was haunted for me like that, distorted +beyond my eyes’ power of correction. So when the blue smoke of brittle +leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the +line I decided to come back home. + +There was one thing to be done before I left, an awkward, unpleasant +thing that perhaps had better have been let alone. But I wanted to +leave things in order and not just trust that obliging and indifferent +sea to sweep my refuse away. I saw Jordan Baker and talked over and +around what had happened to us together, and what had happened +afterward to me, and she lay perfectly still, listening, in a big +chair. + +She was dressed to play golf, and I remember thinking she looked like +a good illustration, her chin raised a little jauntily, her hair the +colour of an autumn leaf, her face the same brown tint as the +fingerless glove on her knee. When I had finished she told me without +comment that she was engaged to another man. I doubted that, though +there were several she could have married at a nod of her head, but I +pretended to be surprised. For just a minute I wondered if I wasn’t +making a mistake, then I thought it all over again quickly and got up +to say goodbye. + +“Nevertheless you did throw me over,” said Jordan suddenly. “You threw +me over on the telephone. I don’t give a damn about you now, but it +was a new experience for me, and I felt a little dizzy for a while.” + +We shook hands. + +“Oh, and do you remember”—she added—“a conversation we had once about +driving a car?” + +“Why—not exactly.” + +“You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver? +Well, I met another bad driver, didn’t I? I mean it was careless of me +to make such a wrong guess. I thought you were rather an honest, +straightforward person. I thought it was your secret pride.” + +“I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and +call it honour.” + +She didn’t answer. Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously +sorry, I turned away. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +One afternoon late in October I saw Tom Buchanan. He was walking ahead +of me along Fifth Avenue in his alert, aggressive way, his hands out a +little from his body as if to fight off interference, his head moving +sharply here and there, adapting itself to his restless eyes. Just as +I slowed up to avoid overtaking him he stopped and began frowning into +the windows of a jewellery store. Suddenly he saw me and walked back, +holding out his hand. + +“What’s the matter, Nick? Do you object to shaking hands with me?” + +“Yes. You know what I think of you.” + +“You’re crazy, Nick,” he said quickly. “Crazy as hell. I don’t know +what’s the matter with you.” + +“Tom,” I inquired, “what did you say to Wilson that afternoon?” + +He stared at me without a word, and I knew I had guessed right about +those missing hours. I started to turn away, but he took a step after +me and grabbed my arm. + +“I told him the truth,” he said. “He came to the door while we were +getting ready to leave, and when I sent down word that we weren’t in +he tried to force his way upstairs. He was crazy enough to kill me if +I hadn’t told him who owned the car. His hand was on a revolver in his +pocket every minute he was in the house—” He broke off defiantly. +“What if I did tell him? That fellow had it coming to him. He threw +dust into your eyes just like he did in Daisy’s, but he was a tough +one. He ran over Myrtle like you’d run over a dog and never even +stopped his car.” + +There was nothing I could say, except the one unutterable fact that it +wasn’t true. + +“And if you think I didn’t have my share of suffering—look here, when +I went to give up that flat and saw that damn box of dog biscuits +sitting there on the sideboard, I sat down and cried like a baby. By +God it was awful—” + +I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done +was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and +confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up +things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their +vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let +other people clean up the mess they had made … + +I shook hands with him; it seemed silly not to, for I felt suddenly as +though I were talking to a child. Then he went into the jewellery +store to buy a pearl necklace—or perhaps only a pair of cuff +buttons—rid of my provincial squeamishness forever. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Gatsby’s house was still empty when I left—the grass on his lawn had +grown as long as mine. One of the taxi drivers in the village never +took a fare past the entrance gate without stopping for a minute and +pointing inside; perhaps it was he who drove Daisy and Gatsby over to +East Egg the night of the accident, and perhaps he had made a story +about it all his own. I didn’t want to hear it and I avoided him when +I got off the train. + +I spent my Saturday nights in New York because those gleaming, +dazzling parties of his were with me so vividly that I could still +hear the music and the laughter, faint and incessant, from his garden, +and the cars going up and down his drive. One night I did hear a +material car there, and saw its lights stop at his front steps. But I +didn’t investigate. Probably it was some final guest who had been away +at the ends of the earth and didn’t know that the party was over. + +On the last night, with my trunk packed and my car sold to the grocer, +I went over and looked at that huge incoherent failure of a house once +more. On the white steps an obscene word, scrawled by some boy with a +piece of brick, stood out clearly in the moonlight, and I erased it, +drawing my shoe raspingly along the stone. Then I wandered down to the +beach and sprawled out on the sand. + +Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any +lights except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the +Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to +melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that +flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new +world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s +house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all +human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his +breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic +contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the +last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for +wonder. + +And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of +Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of +Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream +must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He +did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that +vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic +rolled on under the night. + +Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by +year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no +matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further … And +one fine morning— + +So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into +the past. diff --git a/search-engine/books/The Picture of Dorian Gray.txt b/search-engine/books/The Picture of Dorian Gray.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7dcf44 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/The Picture of Dorian Gray.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8527 @@ +Title: The Picture of Dorian Gray +Author: Oscar Wilde + +The Picture of Dorian Gray + +by Oscar Wilde + + +Contents + + THE PREFACE + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + + + + +THE PREFACE + + +The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and +conceal the artist is art’s aim. The critic is he who can translate +into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful +things. + +The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. +Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without +being charming. This is a fault. + +Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the +cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom +beautiful things mean only beauty. + +There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well +written, or badly written. That is all. + +The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing +his own face in a glass. + +The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban +not seeing his own face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part of +the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in +the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove +anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has +ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable +mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express +everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an +art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the +point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the +musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the +type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the +surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their +peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. +Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, +complex, and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with +himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he +does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that +one admires it intensely. + +All art is quite useless. + +OSCAR WILDE + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light +summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through +the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate +perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. + +From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was +lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry +Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured +blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to +bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then +the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long +tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, +producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of +those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of +an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of +swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their +way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous +insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, +seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London +was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. + +In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the +full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, +and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist +himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago +caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many +strange conjectures. + +As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so +skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his +face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and +closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought +to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he +might awake. + +“It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done,” said +Lord Henry languidly. “You must certainly send it next year to the +Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have +gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been +able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that +I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor +is really the only place.” + +“I don’t think I shall send it anywhere,” he answered, tossing his head +back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at +Oxford. “No, I won’t send it anywhere.” + +Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through +the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls +from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette. “Not send it anywhere? My dear +fellow, why? Have you any reason? What odd chaps you painters are! You +do anything in the world to gain a reputation. As soon as you have one, +you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, for there is +only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is +not being talked about. A portrait like this would set you far above +all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if +old men are ever capable of any emotion.” + +“I know you will laugh at me,” he replied, “but I really can’t exhibit +it. I have put too much of myself into it.” + +Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed. + +“Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same.” + +“Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word, Basil, I didn’t know you +were so vain; and I really can’t see any resemblance between you, with +your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young +Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, +my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you—well, of course you have an +intellectual expression and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends +where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode +of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one +sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something +horrid. Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions. +How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But +then in the Church they don’t think. A bishop keeps on saying at the +age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, +and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful. +Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but +whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. I feel quite sure of +that. He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always here +in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer +when we want something to chill our intelligence. Don’t flatter +yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him.” + +“You don’t understand me, Harry,” answered the artist. “Of course I am +not like him. I know that perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry to +look like him. You shrug your shoulders? I am telling you the truth. +There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, +the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering +steps of kings. It is better not to be different from one’s fellows. +The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit +at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing of victory, +they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all +should live—undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet. They +neither bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. +Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are—my art, +whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray’s good looks—we shall all suffer +for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly.” + +“Dorian Gray? Is that his name?” asked Lord Henry, walking across the +studio towards Basil Hallward. + +“Yes, that is his name. I didn’t intend to tell it to you.” + +“But why not?” + +“Oh, I can’t explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their +names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown +to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life +mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if +one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I +am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, +I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into +one’s life. I suppose you think me awfully foolish about it?” + +“Not at all,” answered Lord Henry, “not at all, my dear Basil. You seem +to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it +makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties. I +never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. +When we meet—we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go +down to the Duke’s—we tell each other the most absurd stories with the +most serious faces. My wife is very good at it—much better, in fact, +than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. But +when she does find me out, she makes no row at all. I sometimes wish +she would; but she merely laughs at me.” + +“I hate the way you talk about your married life, Harry,” said Basil +Hallward, strolling towards the door that led into the garden. “I +believe that you are really a very good husband, but that you are +thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an extraordinary +fellow. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. +Your cynicism is simply a pose.” + +“Being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose I know,” +cried Lord Henry, laughing; and the two young men went out into the +garden together and ensconced themselves on a long bamboo seat that +stood in the shade of a tall laurel bush. The sunlight slipped over the +polished leaves. In the grass, white daisies were tremulous. + +After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch. “I am afraid I must be +going, Basil,” he murmured, “and before I go, I insist on your +answering a question I put to you some time ago.” + +“What is that?” said the painter, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. + +“You know quite well.” + +“I do not, Harry.” + +“Well, I will tell you what it is. I want you to explain to me why you +won’t exhibit Dorian Gray’s picture. I want the real reason.” + +“I told you the real reason.” + +“No, you did not. You said it was because there was too much of +yourself in it. Now, that is childish.” + +“Harry,” said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, “every +portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not +of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is +not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on +the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit +this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of +my own soul.” + +Lord Henry laughed. “And what is that?” he asked. + +“I will tell you,” said Hallward; but an expression of perplexity came +over his face. + +“I am all expectation, Basil,” continued his companion, glancing at +him. + +“Oh, there is really very little to tell, Harry,” answered the painter; +“and I am afraid you will hardly understand it. Perhaps you will hardly +believe it.” + +Lord Henry smiled, and leaning down, plucked a pink-petalled daisy from +the grass and examined it. “I am quite sure I shall understand it,” he +replied, gazing intently at the little golden, white-feathered disk, +“and as for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that it +is quite incredible.” + +The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy +lilac-blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the +languid air. A grasshopper began to chirrup by the wall, and like a +blue thread a long thin dragon-fly floated past on its brown gauze +wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward’s heart +beating, and wondered what was coming. + +“The story is simply this,” said the painter after some time. “Two +months ago I went to a crush at Lady Brandon’s. You know we poor +artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to +remind the public that we are not savages. With an evening coat and a +white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain +a reputation for being civilized. Well, after I had been in the room +about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious +academicians, I suddenly became conscious that some one was looking at +me. I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. +When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation +of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some +one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to +do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art +itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know +yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my +own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. +Then—but I don’t know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to +tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had +a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and +exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was +not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take +no credit to myself for trying to escape.” + +“Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience +is the trade-name of the firm. That is all.” + +“I don’t believe that, Harry, and I don’t believe you do either. +However, whatever was my motive—and it may have been pride, for I used +to be very proud—I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I +stumbled against Lady Brandon. ‘You are not going to run away so soon, +Mr. Hallward?’ she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?” + +“Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,” said Lord Henry, +pulling the daisy to bits with his long nervous fingers. + +“I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to royalties, and people +with stars and garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and +parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her +once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe +some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had +been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the +nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself +face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely +stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. +It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. +Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We +would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of +that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined +to know each other.” + +“And how did Lady Brandon describe this wonderful young man?” asked his +companion. “I know she goes in for giving a rapid _précis_ of all her +guests. I remember her bringing me up to a truculent and red-faced old +gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons, and hissing into my +ear, in a tragic whisper which must have been perfectly audible to +everybody in the room, the most astounding details. I simply fled. I +like to find out people for myself. But Lady Brandon treats her guests +exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods. She either explains them +entirely away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants +to know.” + +“Poor Lady Brandon! You are hard on her, Harry!” said Hallward +listlessly. + +“My dear fellow, she tried to found a _salon_, and only succeeded in +opening a restaurant. How could I admire her? But tell me, what did she +say about Mr. Dorian Gray?” + +“Oh, something like, ‘Charming boy—poor dear mother and I absolutely +inseparable. Quite forget what he does—afraid he—doesn’t do +anything—oh, yes, plays the piano—or is it the violin, dear Mr. Gray?’ +Neither of us could help laughing, and we became friends at once.” + +“Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far +the best ending for one,” said the young lord, plucking another daisy. + +Hallward shook his head. “You don’t understand what friendship is, +Harry,” he murmured—“or what enmity is, for that matter. You like every +one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one.” + +“How horribly unjust of you!” cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat back +and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled skeins of +glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the +summer sky. “Yes; horribly unjust of you. I make a great difference +between people. I choose my friends for their good looks, my +acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good +intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. I +have not got one who is a fool. They are all men of some intellectual +power, and consequently they all appreciate me. Is that very vain of +me? I think it is rather vain.” + +“I should think it was, Harry. But according to your category I must be +merely an acquaintance.” + +“My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance.” + +“And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I suppose?” + +“Oh, brothers! I don’t care for brothers. My elder brother won’t die, +and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.” + +“Harry!” exclaimed Hallward, frowning. + +“My dear fellow, I am not quite serious. But I can’t help detesting my +relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand +other people having the same faults as ourselves. I quite sympathize +with the rage of the English democracy against what they call the vices +of the upper orders. The masses feel that drunkenness, stupidity, and +immorality should be their own special property, and that if any one of +us makes an ass of himself, he is poaching on their preserves. When +poor Southwark got into the divorce court, their indignation was quite +magnificent. And yet I don’t suppose that ten per cent of the +proletariat live correctly.” + +“I don’t agree with a single word that you have said, and, what is +more, Harry, I feel sure you don’t either.” + +Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard and tapped the toe of his +patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane. “How English you are +Basil! That is the second time you have made that observation. If one +puts forward an idea to a true Englishman—always a rash thing to do—he +never dreams of considering whether the idea is right or wrong. The +only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes it +oneself. Now, the value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with +the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities +are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual +will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his +wants, his desires, or his prejudices. However, I don’t propose to +discuss politics, sociology, or metaphysics with you. I like persons +better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better +than anything else in the world. Tell me more about Mr. Dorian Gray. +How often do you see him?” + +“Every day. I couldn’t be happy if I didn’t see him every day. He is +absolutely necessary to me.” + +“How extraordinary! I thought you would never care for anything but +your art.” + +“He is all my art to me now,” said the painter gravely. “I sometimes +think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the +world’s history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, +and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. +What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of +Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will +some day be to me. It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from +him, sketch from him. Of course, I have done all that. But he is much +more to me than a model or a sitter. I won’t tell you that I am +dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such +that art cannot express it. There is nothing that art cannot express, +and I know that the work I have done, since I met Dorian Gray, is good +work, is the best work of my life. But in some curious way—I wonder +will you understand me?—his personality has suggested to me an entirely +new manner in art, an entirely new mode of style. I see things +differently, I think of them differently. I can now recreate life in a +way that was hidden from me before. ‘A dream of form in days of +thought’—who is it who says that? I forget; but it is what Dorian Gray +has been to me. The merely visible presence of this lad—for he seems to +me little more than a lad, though he is really over twenty—his merely +visible presence—ah! I wonder can you realize all that that means? +Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school +that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the +perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and +body—how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and +have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. +Harry! if you only knew what Dorian Gray is to me! You remember that +landscape of mine, for which Agnew offered me such a huge price but +which I would not part with? It is one of the best things I have ever +done. And why is it so? Because, while I was painting it, Dorian Gray +sat beside me. Some subtle influence passed from him to me, and for the +first time in my life I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I had +always looked for and always missed.” + +“Basil, this is extraordinary! I must see Dorian Gray.” + +Hallward got up from the seat and walked up and down the garden. After +some time he came back. “Harry,” he said, “Dorian Gray is to me simply +a motive in art. You might see nothing in him. I see everything in him. +He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there. +He is a suggestion, as I have said, of a new manner. I find him in the +curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain +colours. That is all.” + +“Then why won’t you exhibit his portrait?” asked Lord Henry. + +“Because, without intending it, I have put into it some expression of +all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never +cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know +anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare my +soul to their shallow prying eyes. My heart shall never be put under +their microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing, Harry—too +much of myself!” + +“Poets are not so scrupulous as you are. They know how useful passion +is for publication. Nowadays a broken heart will run to many editions.” + +“I hate them for it,” cried Hallward. “An artist should create +beautiful things, but should put nothing of his own life into them. We +live in an age when men treat art as if it were meant to be a form of +autobiography. We have lost the abstract sense of beauty. Some day I +will show the world what it is; and for that reason the world shall +never see my portrait of Dorian Gray.” + +“I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won’t argue with you. It is only +the intellectually lost who ever argue. Tell me, is Dorian Gray very +fond of you?” + +The painter considered for a few moments. “He likes me,” he answered +after a pause; “I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. +I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall +be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit +in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he +is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me +pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some +one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of +decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer’s day.” + +“Days in summer, Basil, are apt to linger,” murmured Lord Henry. +“Perhaps you will tire sooner than he will. It is a sad thing to think +of, but there is no doubt that genius lasts longer than beauty. That +accounts for the fact that we all take such pains to over-educate +ourselves. In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have +something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and +facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. The thoroughly +well-informed man—that is the modern ideal. And the mind of the +thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a +_bric-à-brac_ shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above +its proper value. I think you will tire first, all the same. Some day +you will look at your friend, and he will seem to you to be a little +out of drawing, or you won’t like his tone of colour, or something. You +will bitterly reproach him in your own heart, and seriously think that +he has behaved very badly to you. The next time he calls, you will be +perfectly cold and indifferent. It will be a great pity, for it will +alter you. What you have told me is quite a romance, a romance of art +one might call it, and the worst of having a romance of any kind is +that it leaves one so unromantic.” + +“Harry, don’t talk like that. As long as I live, the personality of +Dorian Gray will dominate me. You can’t feel what I feel. You change +too often.” + +“Ah, my dear Basil, that is exactly why I can feel it. Those who are +faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who +know love’s tragedies.” And Lord Henry struck a light on a dainty +silver case and began to smoke a cigarette with a self-conscious and +satisfied air, as if he had summed up the world in a phrase. There was +a rustle of chirruping sparrows in the green lacquer leaves of the ivy, +and the blue cloud-shadows chased themselves across the grass like +swallows. How pleasant it was in the garden! And how delightful other +people’s emotions were!—much more delightful than their ideas, it +seemed to him. One’s own soul, and the passions of one’s friends—those +were the fascinating things in life. He pictured to himself with silent +amusement the tedious luncheon that he had missed by staying so long +with Basil Hallward. Had he gone to his aunt’s, he would have been sure +to have met Lord Goodbody there, and the whole conversation would have +been about the feeding of the poor and the necessity for model +lodging-houses. Each class would have preached the importance of those +virtues, for whose exercise there was no necessity in their own lives. +The rich would have spoken on the value of thrift, and the idle grown +eloquent over the dignity of labour. It was charming to have escaped +all that! As he thought of his aunt, an idea seemed to strike him. He +turned to Hallward and said, “My dear fellow, I have just remembered.” + +“Remembered what, Harry?” + +“Where I heard the name of Dorian Gray.” + +“Where was it?” asked Hallward, with a slight frown. + +“Don’t look so angry, Basil. It was at my aunt, Lady Agatha’s. She told +me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help her +in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to state +that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no appreciation +of good looks; at least, good women have not. She said that he was very +earnest and had a beautiful nature. I at once pictured to myself a +creature with spectacles and lank hair, horribly freckled, and tramping +about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was your friend.” + +“I am very glad you didn’t, Harry.” + +“Why?” + +“I don’t want you to meet him.” + +“You don’t want me to meet him?” + +“No.” + +“Mr. Dorian Gray is in the studio, sir,” said the butler, coming into +the garden. + +“You must introduce me now,” cried Lord Henry, laughing. + +The painter turned to his servant, who stood blinking in the sunlight. +“Ask Mr. Gray to wait, Parker: I shall be in in a few moments.” The man +bowed and went up the walk. + +Then he looked at Lord Henry. “Dorian Gray is my dearest friend,” he +said. “He has a simple and a beautiful nature. Your aunt was quite +right in what she said of him. Don’t spoil him. Don’t try to influence +him. Your influence would be bad. The world is wide, and has many +marvellous people in it. Don’t take away from me the one person who +gives to my art whatever charm it possesses: my life as an artist +depends on him. Mind, Harry, I trust you.” He spoke very slowly, and +the words seemed wrung out of him almost against his will. + +“What nonsense you talk!” said Lord Henry, smiling, and taking Hallward +by the arm, he almost led him into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with +his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann’s +“Forest Scenes.” “You must lend me these, Basil,” he cried. “I want to +learn them. They are perfectly charming.” + +“That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian.” + +“Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don’t want a life-sized portrait of +myself,” answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a +wilful, petulant manner. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint +blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up. “I beg your +pardon, Basil, but I didn’t know you had any one with you.” + +“This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I +have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you +have spoiled everything.” + +“You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Gray,” said Lord +Henry, stepping forward and extending his hand. “My aunt has often +spoken to me about you. You are one of her favourites, and, I am +afraid, one of her victims also.” + +“I am in Lady Agatha’s black books at present,” answered Dorian with a +funny look of penitence. “I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel +with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it. We were to +have played a duet together—three duets, I believe. I don’t know what +she will say to me. I am far too frightened to call.” + +“Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted to you. +And I don’t think it really matters about your not being there. The +audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to +the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people.” + +“That is very horrid to her, and not very nice to me,” answered Dorian, +laughing. + +Lord Henry looked at him. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, +with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp +gold hair. There was something in his face that made one trust him at +once. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all youth’s +passionate purity. One felt that he had kept himself unspotted from the +world. No wonder Basil Hallward worshipped him. + +“You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, Mr. Gray—far too +charming.” And Lord Henry flung himself down on the divan and opened +his cigarette-case. + +The painter had been busy mixing his colours and getting his brushes +ready. He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry’s last +remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, +“Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day. Would you think it +awfully rude of me if I asked you to go away?” + +Lord Henry smiled and looked at Dorian Gray. “Am I to go, Mr. Gray?” he +asked. + +“Oh, please don’t, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of his sulky +moods, and I can’t bear him when he sulks. Besides, I want you to tell +me why I should not go in for philanthropy.” + +“I don’t know that I shall tell you that, Mr. Gray. It is so tedious a +subject that one would have to talk seriously about it. But I certainly +shall not run away, now that you have asked me to stop. You don’t +really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you liked your +sitters to have some one to chat to.” + +Hallward bit his lip. “If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay. +Dorian’s whims are laws to everybody, except himself.” + +Lord Henry took up his hat and gloves. “You are very pressing, Basil, +but I am afraid I must go. I have promised to meet a man at the +Orleans. Good-bye, Mr. Gray. Come and see me some afternoon in Curzon +Street. I am nearly always at home at five o’clock. Write to me when +you are coming. I should be sorry to miss you.” + +“Basil,” cried Dorian Gray, “if Lord Henry Wotton goes, I shall go, +too. You never open your lips while you are painting, and it is +horribly dull standing on a platform and trying to look pleasant. Ask +him to stay. I insist upon it.” + +“Stay, Harry, to oblige Dorian, and to oblige me,” said Hallward, +gazing intently at his picture. “It is quite true, I never talk when I +am working, and never listen either, and it must be dreadfully tedious +for my unfortunate sitters. I beg you to stay.” + +“But what about my man at the Orleans?” + +The painter laughed. “I don’t think there will be any difficulty about +that. Sit down again, Harry. And now, Dorian, get up on the platform, +and don’t move about too much, or pay any attention to what Lord Henry +says. He has a very bad influence over all his friends, with the single +exception of myself.” + +Dorian Gray stepped up on the dais with the air of a young Greek +martyr, and made a little _moue_ of discontent to Lord Henry, to whom +he had rather taken a fancy. He was so unlike Basil. They made a +delightful contrast. And he had such a beautiful voice. After a few +moments he said to him, “Have you really a very bad influence, Lord +Henry? As bad as Basil says?” + +“There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence is +immoral—immoral from the scientific point of view.” + +“Why?” + +“Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does +not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His +virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as +sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else’s music, an +actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is +self-development. To realize one’s nature perfectly—that is what each +of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have +forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s +self. Of course, they are charitable. They feed the hungry and clothe +the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone +out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, +which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of +religion—these are the two things that govern us. And yet—” + +“Just turn your head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a good +boy,” said the painter, deep in his work and conscious only that a look +had come into the lad’s face that he had never seen there before. + +“And yet,” continued Lord Henry, in his low, musical voice, and with +that graceful wave of the hand that was always so characteristic of +him, and that he had even in his Eton days, “I believe that if one man +were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to +every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream—I +believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we +would forget all the maladies of mediævalism, and return to the +Hellenic ideal—to something finer, richer than the Hellenic ideal, it +may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. The +mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial +that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse +that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body +sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of +purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, +or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is +to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for +the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its +monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that +the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the +brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place +also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, with your rose-red youth and your +rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, +thoughts that have filled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping +dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame—” + +“Stop!” faltered Dorian Gray, “stop! you bewilder me. I don’t know what +to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it. Don’t speak. +Let me think. Or, rather, let me try not to think.” + +For nearly ten minutes he stood there, motionless, with parted lips and +eyes strangely bright. He was dimly conscious that entirely fresh +influences were at work within him. Yet they seemed to him to have come +really from himself. The few words that Basil’s friend had said to +him—words spoken by chance, no doubt, and with wilful paradox in +them—had touched some secret chord that had never been touched before, +but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses. + +Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times. But +music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather another +chaos, that it created in us. Words! Mere words! How terrible they +were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. +And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able +to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their +own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything +so real as words? + +Yes; there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood. +He understood them now. Life suddenly became fiery-coloured to him. It +seemed to him that he had been walking in fire. Why had he not known +it? + +With his subtle smile, Lord Henry watched him. He knew the precise +psychological moment when to say nothing. He felt intensely interested. +He was amazed at the sudden impression that his words had produced, +and, remembering a book that he had read when he was sixteen, a book +which had revealed to him much that he had not known before, he +wondered whether Dorian Gray was passing through a similar experience. +He had merely shot an arrow into the air. Had it hit the mark? How +fascinating the lad was! + +Hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his, that had +the true refinement and perfect delicacy that in art, at any rate comes +only from strength. He was unconscious of the silence. + +“Basil, I am tired of standing,” cried Dorian Gray suddenly. “I must go +out and sit in the garden. The air is stifling here.” + +“My dear fellow, I am so sorry. When I am painting, I can’t think of +anything else. But you never sat better. You were perfectly still. And +I have caught the effect I wanted—the half-parted lips and the bright +look in the eyes. I don’t know what Harry has been saying to you, but +he has certainly made you have the most wonderful expression. I suppose +he has been paying you compliments. You mustn’t believe a word that he +says.” + +“He has certainly not been paying me compliments. Perhaps that is the +reason that I don’t believe anything he has told me.” + +“You know you believe it all,” said Lord Henry, looking at him with his +dreamy languorous eyes. “I will go out to the garden with you. It is +horribly hot in the studio. Basil, let us have something iced to drink, +something with strawberries in it.” + +“Certainly, Harry. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I will +tell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so I +will join you later on. Don’t keep Dorian too long. I have never been +in better form for painting than I am to-day. This is going to be my +masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands.” + +Lord Henry went out to the garden and found Dorian Gray burying his +face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in their +perfume as if it had been wine. He came close to him and put his hand +upon his shoulder. “You are quite right to do that,” he murmured. +“Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the +senses but the soul.” + +The lad started and drew back. He was bareheaded, and the leaves had +tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads. There +was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are +suddenly awakened. His finely chiselled nostrils quivered, and some +hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them trembling. + +“Yes,” continued Lord Henry, “that is one of the great secrets of +life—to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means +of the soul. You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think +you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” + +Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He could not help liking +the tall, graceful young man who was standing by him. His romantic, +olive-coloured face and worn expression interested him. There was +something in his low languid voice that was absolutely fascinating. His +cool, white, flowerlike hands, even, had a curious charm. They moved, +as he spoke, like music, and seemed to have a language of their own. +But he felt afraid of him, and ashamed of being afraid. Why had it been +left for a stranger to reveal him to himself? He had known Basil +Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had never altered +him. Suddenly there had come some one across his life who seemed to +have disclosed to him life’s mystery. And, yet, what was there to be +afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was absurd to be +frightened. + +“Let us go and sit in the shade,” said Lord Henry. “Parker has brought +out the drinks, and if you stay any longer in this glare, you will be +quite spoiled, and Basil will never paint you again. You really must +not allow yourself to become sunburnt. It would be unbecoming.” + +“What can it matter?” cried Dorian Gray, laughing, as he sat down on +the seat at the end of the garden. + +“It should matter everything to you, Mr. Gray.” + +“Why?” + +“Because you have the most marvellous youth, and youth is the one thing +worth having.” + +“I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.” + +“No, you don’t feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkled and +ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion +branded your lips with its hideous fires, you will feel it, you will +feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it +always be so? ... You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray. +Don’t frown. You have. And beauty is a form of genius—is higher, +indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great +facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-time, or the reflection in +dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot be +questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of +those who have it. You smile? Ah! when you have lost it you won’t +smile.... People say sometimes that beauty is only superficial. That +may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as thought is. To me, +beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not +judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not +the invisible.... Yes, Mr. Gray, the gods have been good to you. But +what the gods give they quickly take away. You have only a few years in +which to live really, perfectly, and fully. When your youth goes, your +beauty will go with it, and then you will suddenly discover that there +are no triumphs left for you, or have to content yourself with those +mean triumphs that the memory of your past will make more bitter than +defeats. Every month as it wanes brings you nearer to something +dreadful. Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your +roses. You will become sallow, and hollow-cheeked, and dull-eyed. You +will suffer horribly.... Ah! realize your youth while you have it. +Don’t squander the gold of your days, listening to the tedious, trying +to improve the hopeless failure, or giving away your life to the +ignorant, the common, and the vulgar. These are the sickly aims, the +false ideals, of our age. Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! +Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. +Be afraid of nothing.... A new Hedonism—that is what our century wants. +You might be its visible symbol. With your personality there is nothing +you could not do. The world belongs to you for a season.... The moment +I met you I saw that you were quite unconscious of what you really are, +of what you really might be. There was so much in you that charmed me +that I felt I must tell you something about yourself. I thought how +tragic it would be if you were wasted. For there is such a little time +that your youth will last—such a little time. The common hill-flowers +wither, but they blossom again. The laburnum will be as yellow next +June as it is now. In a month there will be purple stars on the +clematis, and year after year the green night of its leaves will hold +its purple stars. But we never get back our youth. The pulse of joy +that beats in us at twenty becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses +rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the +passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite +temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. Youth! Youth! +There is absolutely nothing in the world but youth!” + +Dorian Gray listened, open-eyed and wondering. The spray of lilac fell +from his hand upon the gravel. A furry bee came and buzzed round it for +a moment. Then it began to scramble all over the oval stellated globe +of the tiny blossoms. He watched it with that strange interest in +trivial things that we try to develop when things of high import make +us afraid, or when we are stirred by some new emotion for which we +cannot find expression, or when some thought that terrifies us lays +sudden siege to the brain and calls on us to yield. After a time the +bee flew away. He saw it creeping into the stained trumpet of a Tyrian +convolvulus. The flower seemed to quiver, and then swayed gently to and +fro. + +Suddenly the painter appeared at the door of the studio and made +staccato signs for them to come in. They turned to each other and +smiled. + +“I am waiting,” he cried. “Do come in. The light is quite perfect, and +you can bring your drinks.” + +They rose up and sauntered down the walk together. Two green-and-white +butterflies fluttered past them, and in the pear-tree at the corner of +the garden a thrush began to sing. + +“You are glad you have met me, Mr. Gray,” said Lord Henry, looking at +him. + +“Yes, I am glad now. I wonder shall I always be glad?” + +“Always! That is a dreadful word. It makes me shudder when I hear it. +Women are so fond of using it. They spoil every romance by trying to +make it last for ever. It is a meaningless word, too. The only +difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice +lasts a little longer.” + +As they entered the studio, Dorian Gray put his hand upon Lord Henry’s +arm. “In that case, let our friendship be a caprice,” he murmured, +flushing at his own boldness, then stepped up on the platform and +resumed his pose. + +Lord Henry flung himself into a large wicker arm-chair and watched him. +The sweep and dash of the brush on the canvas made the only sound that +broke the stillness, except when, now and then, Hallward stepped back +to look at his work from a distance. In the slanting beams that +streamed through the open doorway the dust danced and was golden. The +heavy scent of the roses seemed to brood over everything. + +After about a quarter of an hour Hallward stopped painting, looked for +a long time at Dorian Gray, and then for a long time at the picture, +biting the end of one of his huge brushes and frowning. “It is quite +finished,” he cried at last, and stooping down he wrote his name in +long vermilion letters on the left-hand corner of the canvas. + +Lord Henry came over and examined the picture. It was certainly a +wonderful work of art, and a wonderful likeness as well. + +“My dear fellow, I congratulate you most warmly,” he said. “It is the +finest portrait of modern times. Mr. Gray, come over and look at +yourself.” + +The lad started, as if awakened from some dream. + +“Is it really finished?” he murmured, stepping down from the platform. + +“Quite finished,” said the painter. “And you have sat splendidly +to-day. I am awfully obliged to you.” + +“That is entirely due to me,” broke in Lord Henry. “Isn’t it, Mr. +Gray?” + +Dorian made no answer, but passed listlessly in front of his picture +and turned towards it. When he saw it he drew back, and his cheeks +flushed for a moment with pleasure. A look of joy came into his eyes, +as if he had recognized himself for the first time. He stood there +motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that Hallward was speaking to +him, but not catching the meaning of his words. The sense of his own +beauty came on him like a revelation. He had never felt it before. +Basil Hallward’s compliments had seemed to him to be merely the +charming exaggeration of friendship. He had listened to them, laughed +at them, forgotten them. They had not influenced his nature. Then had +come Lord Henry Wotton with his strange panegyric on youth, his +terrible warning of its brevity. That had stirred him at the time, and +now, as he stood gazing at the shadow of his own loveliness, the full +reality of the description flashed across him. Yes, there would be a +day when his face would be wrinkled and wizen, his eyes dim and +colourless, the grace of his figure broken and deformed. The scarlet +would pass away from his lips and the gold steal from his hair. The +life that was to make his soul would mar his body. He would become +dreadful, hideous, and uncouth. + +As he thought of it, a sharp pang of pain struck through him like a +knife and made each delicate fibre of his nature quiver. His eyes +deepened into amethyst, and across them came a mist of tears. He felt +as if a hand of ice had been laid upon his heart. + +“Don’t you like it?” cried Hallward at last, stung a little by the +lad’s silence, not understanding what it meant. + +“Of course he likes it,” said Lord Henry. “Who wouldn’t like it? It is +one of the greatest things in modern art. I will give you anything you +like to ask for it. I must have it.” + +“It is not my property, Harry.” + +“Whose property is it?” + +“Dorian’s, of course,” answered the painter. + +“He is a very lucky fellow.” + +“How sad it is!” murmured Dorian Gray with his eyes still fixed upon +his own portrait. “How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and +dreadful. But this picture will remain always young. It will never be +older than this particular day of June.... If it were only the other +way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was +to grow old! For that—for that—I would give everything! Yes, there is +nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for +that!” + +“You would hardly care for such an arrangement, Basil,” cried Lord +Henry, laughing. “It would be rather hard lines on your work.” + +“I should object very strongly, Harry,” said Hallward. + +Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. “I believe you would, Basil. You +like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a +green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.” + +The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like +that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed +and his cheeks burning. + +“Yes,” he continued, “I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your +silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till +I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses +one’s good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your +picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth +is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I +shall kill myself.” + +Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. “Dorian! Dorian!” he cried, +“don’t talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I +shall never have such another. You are not jealous of material things, +are you?—you who are finer than any of them!” + +“I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of +the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must +lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives +something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture +could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint +it? It will mock me some day—mock me horribly!” The hot tears welled +into his eyes; he tore his hand away and, flinging himself on the +divan, he buried his face in the cushions, as though he was praying. + +“This is your doing, Harry,” said the painter bitterly. + +Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “It is the real Dorian Gray—that is +all.” + +“It is not.” + +“If it is not, what have I to do with it?” + +“You should have gone away when I asked you,” he muttered. + +“I stayed when you asked me,” was Lord Henry’s answer. + +“Harry, I can’t quarrel with my two best friends at once, but between +you both you have made me hate the finest piece of work I have ever +done, and I will destroy it. What is it but canvas and colour? I will +not let it come across our three lives and mar them.” + +Dorian Gray lifted his golden head from the pillow, and with pallid +face and tear-stained eyes, looked at him as he walked over to the deal +painting-table that was set beneath the high curtained window. What was +he doing there? His fingers were straying about among the litter of tin +tubes and dry brushes, seeking for something. Yes, it was for the long +palette-knife, with its thin blade of lithe steel. He had found it at +last. He was going to rip up the canvas. + +With a stifled sob the lad leaped from the couch, and, rushing over to +Hallward, tore the knife out of his hand, and flung it to the end of +the studio. “Don’t, Basil, don’t!” he cried. “It would be murder!” + +“I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Dorian,” said the painter +coldly when he had recovered from his surprise. “I never thought you +would.” + +“Appreciate it? I am in love with it, Basil. It is part of myself. I +feel that.” + +“Well, as soon as you are dry, you shall be varnished, and framed, and +sent home. Then you can do what you like with yourself.” And he walked +across the room and rang the bell for tea. “You will have tea, of +course, Dorian? And so will you, Harry? Or do you object to such simple +pleasures?” + +“I adore simple pleasures,” said Lord Henry. “They are the last refuge +of the complex. But I don’t like scenes, except on the stage. What +absurd fellows you are, both of you! I wonder who it was defined man as +a rational animal. It was the most premature definition ever given. Man +is many things, but he is not rational. I am glad he is not, after +all—though I wish you chaps would not squabble over the picture. You +had much better let me have it, Basil. This silly boy doesn’t really +want it, and I really do.” + +“If you let any one have it but me, Basil, I shall never forgive you!” +cried Dorian Gray; “and I don’t allow people to call me a silly boy.” + +“You know the picture is yours, Dorian. I gave it to you before it +existed.” + +“And you know you have been a little silly, Mr. Gray, and that you +don’t really object to being reminded that you are extremely young.” + +“I should have objected very strongly this morning, Lord Henry.” + +“Ah! this morning! You have lived since then.” + +There came a knock at the door, and the butler entered with a laden +tea-tray and set it down upon a small Japanese table. There was a +rattle of cups and saucers and the hissing of a fluted Georgian urn. +Two globe-shaped china dishes were brought in by a page. Dorian Gray +went over and poured out the tea. The two men sauntered languidly to +the table and examined what was under the covers. + +“Let us go to the theatre to-night,” said Lord Henry. “There is sure to +be something on, somewhere. I have promised to dine at White’s, but it +is only with an old friend, so I can send him a wire to say that I am +ill, or that I am prevented from coming in consequence of a subsequent +engagement. I think that would be a rather nice excuse: it would have +all the surprise of candour.” + +“It is such a bore putting on one’s dress-clothes,” muttered Hallward. +“And, when one has them on, they are so horrid.” + +“Yes,” answered Lord Henry dreamily, “the costume of the nineteenth +century is detestable. It is so sombre, so depressing. Sin is the only +real colour-element left in modern life.” + +“You really must not say things like that before Dorian, Harry.” + +“Before which Dorian? The one who is pouring out tea for us, or the one +in the picture?” + +“Before either.” + +“I should like to come to the theatre with you, Lord Henry,” said the +lad. + +“Then you shall come; and you will come, too, Basil, won’t you?” + +“I can’t, really. I would sooner not. I have a lot of work to do.” + +“Well, then, you and I will go alone, Mr. Gray.” + +“I should like that awfully.” + +The painter bit his lip and walked over, cup in hand, to the picture. +“I shall stay with the real Dorian,” he said, sadly. + +“Is it the real Dorian?” cried the original of the portrait, strolling +across to him. “Am I really like that?” + +“Yes; you are just like that.” + +“How wonderful, Basil!” + +“At least you are like it in appearance. But it will never alter,” +sighed Hallward. “That is something.” + +“What a fuss people make about fidelity!” exclaimed Lord Henry. “Why, +even in love it is purely a question for physiology. It has nothing to +do with our own will. Young men want to be faithful, and are not; old +men want to be faithless, and cannot: that is all one can say.” + +“Don’t go to the theatre to-night, Dorian,” said Hallward. “Stop and +dine with me.” + +“I can’t, Basil.” + +“Why?” + +“Because I have promised Lord Henry Wotton to go with him.” + +“He won’t like you the better for keeping your promises. He always +breaks his own. I beg you not to go.” + +Dorian Gray laughed and shook his head. + +“I entreat you.” + +The lad hesitated, and looked over at Lord Henry, who was watching them +from the tea-table with an amused smile. + +“I must go, Basil,” he answered. + +“Very well,” said Hallward, and he went over and laid down his cup on +the tray. “It is rather late, and, as you have to dress, you had better +lose no time. Good-bye, Harry. Good-bye, Dorian. Come and see me soon. +Come to-morrow.” + +“Certainly.” + +“You won’t forget?” + +“No, of course not,” cried Dorian. + +“And ... Harry!” + +“Yes, Basil?” + +“Remember what I asked you, when we were in the garden this morning.” + +“I have forgotten it.” + +“I trust you.” + +“I wish I could trust myself,” said Lord Henry, laughing. “Come, Mr. +Gray, my hansom is outside, and I can drop you at your own place. +Good-bye, Basil. It has been a most interesting afternoon.” + +As the door closed behind them, the painter flung himself down on a +sofa, and a look of pain came into his face. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +At half-past twelve next day Lord Henry Wotton strolled from Curzon +Street over to the Albany to call on his uncle, Lord Fermor, a genial +if somewhat rough-mannered old bachelor, whom the outside world called +selfish because it derived no particular benefit from him, but who was +considered generous by Society as he fed the people who amused him. His +father had been our ambassador at Madrid when Isabella was young and +Prim unthought of, but had retired from the diplomatic service in a +capricious moment of annoyance on not being offered the Embassy at +Paris, a post to which he considered that he was fully entitled by +reason of his birth, his indolence, the good English of his dispatches, +and his inordinate passion for pleasure. The son, who had been his +father’s secretary, had resigned along with his chief, somewhat +foolishly as was thought at the time, and on succeeding some months +later to the title, had set himself to the serious study of the great +aristocratic art of doing absolutely nothing. He had two large town +houses, but preferred to live in chambers as it was less trouble, and +took most of his meals at his club. He paid some attention to the +management of his collieries in the Midland counties, excusing himself +for this taint of industry on the ground that the one advantage of +having coal was that it enabled a gentleman to afford the decency of +burning wood on his own hearth. In politics he was a Tory, except when +the Tories were in office, during which period he roundly abused them +for being a pack of Radicals. He was a hero to his valet, who bullied +him, and a terror to most of his relations, whom he bullied in turn. +Only England could have produced him, and he always said that the +country was going to the dogs. His principles were out of date, but +there was a good deal to be said for his prejudices. + +When Lord Henry entered the room, he found his uncle sitting in a rough +shooting-coat, smoking a cheroot and grumbling over _The Times_. “Well, +Harry,” said the old gentleman, “what brings you out so early? I +thought you dandies never got up till two, and were not visible till +five.” + +“Pure family affection, I assure you, Uncle George. I want to get +something out of you.” + +“Money, I suppose,” said Lord Fermor, making a wry face. “Well, sit +down and tell me all about it. Young people, nowadays, imagine that +money is everything.” + +“Yes,” murmured Lord Henry, settling his button-hole in his coat; “and +when they grow older they know it. But I don’t want money. It is only +people who pay their bills who want that, Uncle George, and I never pay +mine. Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly +upon it. Besides, I always deal with Dartmoor’s tradesmen, and +consequently they never bother me. What I want is information: not +useful information, of course; useless information.” + +“Well, I can tell you anything that is in an English Blue Book, Harry, +although those fellows nowadays write a lot of nonsense. When I was in +the Diplomatic, things were much better. But I hear they let them in +now by examination. What can you expect? Examinations, sir, are pure +humbug from beginning to end. If a man is a gentleman, he knows quite +enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for +him.” + +“Mr. Dorian Gray does not belong to Blue Books, Uncle George,” said +Lord Henry languidly. + +“Mr. Dorian Gray? Who is he?” asked Lord Fermor, knitting his bushy +white eyebrows. + +“That is what I have come to learn, Uncle George. Or rather, I know who +he is. He is the last Lord Kelso’s grandson. His mother was a Devereux, +Lady Margaret Devereux. I want you to tell me about his mother. What +was she like? Whom did she marry? You have known nearly everybody in +your time, so you might have known her. I am very much interested in +Mr. Gray at present. I have only just met him.” + +“Kelso’s grandson!” echoed the old gentleman. “Kelso’s grandson! ... Of +course.... I knew his mother intimately. I believe I was at her +christening. She was an extraordinarily beautiful girl, Margaret +Devereux, and made all the men frantic by running away with a penniless +young fellow—a mere nobody, sir, a subaltern in a foot regiment, or +something of that kind. Certainly. I remember the whole thing as if it +happened yesterday. The poor chap was killed in a duel at Spa a few +months after the marriage. There was an ugly story about it. They said +Kelso got some rascally adventurer, some Belgian brute, to insult his +son-in-law in public—paid him, sir, to do it, paid him—and that the +fellow spitted his man as if he had been a pigeon. The thing was hushed +up, but, egad, Kelso ate his chop alone at the club for some time +afterwards. He brought his daughter back with him, I was told, and she +never spoke to him again. Oh, yes; it was a bad business. The girl +died, too, died within a year. So she left a son, did she? I had +forgotten that. What sort of boy is he? If he is like his mother, he +must be a good-looking chap.” + +“He is very good-looking,” assented Lord Henry. + +“I hope he will fall into proper hands,” continued the old man. “He +should have a pot of money waiting for him if Kelso did the right thing +by him. His mother had money, too. All the Selby property came to her, +through her grandfather. Her grandfather hated Kelso, thought him a +mean dog. He was, too. Came to Madrid once when I was there. Egad, I +was ashamed of him. The Queen used to ask me about the English noble +who was always quarrelling with the cabmen about their fares. They made +quite a story of it. I didn’t dare show my face at Court for a month. I +hope he treated his grandson better than he did the jarvies.” + +“I don’t know,” answered Lord Henry. “I fancy that the boy will be well +off. He is not of age yet. He has Selby, I know. He told me so. And ... +his mother was very beautiful?” + +“Margaret Devereux was one of the loveliest creatures I ever saw, +Harry. What on earth induced her to behave as she did, I never could +understand. She could have married anybody she chose. Carlington was +mad after her. She was romantic, though. All the women of that family +were. The men were a poor lot, but, egad! the women were wonderful. +Carlington went on his knees to her. Told me so himself. She laughed at +him, and there wasn’t a girl in London at the time who wasn’t after +him. And by the way, Harry, talking about silly marriages, what is this +humbug your father tells me about Dartmoor wanting to marry an +American? Ain’t English girls good enough for him?” + +“It is rather fashionable to marry Americans just now, Uncle George.” + +“I’ll back English women against the world, Harry,” said Lord Fermor, +striking the table with his fist. + +“The betting is on the Americans.” + +“They don’t last, I am told,” muttered his uncle. + +“A long engagement exhausts them, but they are capital at a +steeplechase. They take things flying. I don’t think Dartmoor has a +chance.” + +“Who are her people?” grumbled the old gentleman. “Has she got any?” + +Lord Henry shook his head. “American girls are as clever at concealing +their parents, as English women are at concealing their past,” he said, +rising to go. + +“They are pork-packers, I suppose?” + +“I hope so, Uncle George, for Dartmoor’s sake. I am told that +pork-packing is the most lucrative profession in America, after +politics.” + +“Is she pretty?” + +“She behaves as if she was beautiful. Most American women do. It is the +secret of their charm.” + +“Why can’t these American women stay in their own country? They are +always telling us that it is the paradise for women.” + +“It is. That is the reason why, like Eve, they are so excessively +anxious to get out of it,” said Lord Henry. “Good-bye, Uncle George. I +shall be late for lunch, if I stop any longer. Thanks for giving me the +information I wanted. I always like to know everything about my new +friends, and nothing about my old ones.” + +“Where are you lunching, Harry?” + +“At Aunt Agatha’s. I have asked myself and Mr. Gray. He is her latest +_protégé_.” + +“Humph! tell your Aunt Agatha, Harry, not to bother me any more with +her charity appeals. I am sick of them. Why, the good woman thinks that +I have nothing to do but to write cheques for her silly fads.” + +“All right, Uncle George, I’ll tell her, but it won’t have any effect. +Philanthropic people lose all sense of humanity. It is their +distinguishing characteristic.” + +The old gentleman growled approvingly and rang the bell for his +servant. Lord Henry passed up the low arcade into Burlington Street and +turned his steps in the direction of Berkeley Square. + +So that was the story of Dorian Gray’s parentage. Crudely as it had +been told to him, it had yet stirred him by its suggestion of a +strange, almost modern romance. A beautiful woman risking everything +for a mad passion. A few wild weeks of happiness cut short by a +hideous, treacherous crime. Months of voiceless agony, and then a child +born in pain. The mother snatched away by death, the boy left to +solitude and the tyranny of an old and loveless man. Yes; it was an +interesting background. It posed the lad, made him more perfect, as it +were. Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something +tragic. Worlds had to be in travail, that the meanest flower might +blow.... And how charming he had been at dinner the night before, as +with startled eyes and lips parted in frightened pleasure he had sat +opposite to him at the club, the red candleshades staining to a richer +rose the wakening wonder of his face. Talking to him was like playing +upon an exquisite violin. He answered to every touch and thrill of the +bow.... There was something terribly enthralling in the exercise of +influence. No other activity was like it. To project one’s soul into +some gracious form, and let it tarry there for a moment; to hear one’s +own intellectual views echoed back to one with all the added music of +passion and youth; to convey one’s temperament into another as though +it were a subtle fluid or a strange perfume: there was a real joy in +that—perhaps the most satisfying joy left to us in an age so limited +and vulgar as our own, an age grossly carnal in its pleasures, and +grossly common in its aims.... He was a marvellous type, too, this lad, +whom by so curious a chance he had met in Basil’s studio, or could be +fashioned into a marvellous type, at any rate. Grace was his, and the +white purity of boyhood, and beauty such as old Greek marbles kept for +us. There was nothing that one could not do with him. He could be made +a Titan or a toy. What a pity it was that such beauty was destined to +fade! ... And Basil? From a psychological point of view, how +interesting he was! The new manner in art, the fresh mode of looking at +life, suggested so strangely by the merely visible presence of one who +was unconscious of it all; the silent spirit that dwelt in dim +woodland, and walked unseen in open field, suddenly showing herself, +Dryadlike and not afraid, because in his soul who sought for her there +had been wakened that wonderful vision to which alone are wonderful +things revealed; the mere shapes and patterns of things becoming, as it +were, refined, and gaining a kind of symbolical value, as though they +were themselves patterns of some other and more perfect form whose +shadow they made real: how strange it all was! He remembered something +like it in history. Was it not Plato, that artist in thought, who had +first analyzed it? Was it not Buonarotti who had carved it in the +coloured marbles of a sonnet-sequence? But in our own century it was +strange.... Yes; he would try to be to Dorian Gray what, without +knowing it, the lad was to the painter who had fashioned the wonderful +portrait. He would seek to dominate him—had already, indeed, half done +so. He would make that wonderful spirit his own. There was something +fascinating in this son of love and death. + +Suddenly he stopped and glanced up at the houses. He found that he had +passed his aunt’s some distance, and, smiling to himself, turned back. +When he entered the somewhat sombre hall, the butler told him that they +had gone in to lunch. He gave one of the footmen his hat and stick and +passed into the dining-room. + +“Late as usual, Harry,” cried his aunt, shaking her head at him. + +He invented a facile excuse, and having taken the vacant seat next to +her, looked round to see who was there. Dorian bowed to him shyly from +the end of the table, a flush of pleasure stealing into his cheek. +Opposite was the Duchess of Harley, a lady of admirable good-nature and +good temper, much liked by every one who knew her, and of those ample +architectural proportions that in women who are not duchesses are +described by contemporary historians as stoutness. Next to her sat, on +her right, Sir Thomas Burdon, a Radical member of Parliament, who +followed his leader in public life and in private life followed the +best cooks, dining with the Tories and thinking with the Liberals, in +accordance with a wise and well-known rule. The post on her left was +occupied by Mr. Erskine of Treadley, an old gentleman of considerable +charm and culture, who had fallen, however, into bad habits of silence, +having, as he explained once to Lady Agatha, said everything that he +had to say before he was thirty. His own neighbour was Mrs. Vandeleur, +one of his aunt’s oldest friends, a perfect saint amongst women, but so +dreadfully dowdy that she reminded one of a badly bound hymn-book. +Fortunately for him she had on the other side Lord Faudel, a most +intelligent middle-aged mediocrity, as bald as a ministerial statement +in the House of Commons, with whom she was conversing in that intensely +earnest manner which is the one unpardonable error, as he remarked once +himself, that all really good people fall into, and from which none of +them ever quite escape. + +“We are talking about poor Dartmoor, Lord Henry,” cried the duchess, +nodding pleasantly to him across the table. “Do you think he will +really marry this fascinating young person?” + +“I believe she has made up her mind to propose to him, Duchess.” + +“How dreadful!” exclaimed Lady Agatha. “Really, some one should +interfere.” + +“I am told, on excellent authority, that her father keeps an American +dry-goods store,” said Sir Thomas Burdon, looking supercilious. + +“My uncle has already suggested pork-packing, Sir Thomas.” + +“Dry-goods! What are American dry-goods?” asked the duchess, raising +her large hands in wonder and accentuating the verb. + +“American novels,” answered Lord Henry, helping himself to some quail. + +The duchess looked puzzled. + +“Don’t mind him, my dear,” whispered Lady Agatha. “He never means +anything that he says.” + +“When America was discovered,” said the Radical member—and he began to +give some wearisome facts. Like all people who try to exhaust a +subject, he exhausted his listeners. The duchess sighed and exercised +her privilege of interruption. “I wish to goodness it never had been +discovered at all!” she exclaimed. “Really, our girls have no chance +nowadays. It is most unfair.” + +“Perhaps, after all, America never has been discovered,” said Mr. +Erskine; “I myself would say that it had merely been detected.” + +“Oh! but I have seen specimens of the inhabitants,” answered the +duchess vaguely. “I must confess that most of them are extremely +pretty. And they dress well, too. They get all their dresses in Paris. +I wish I could afford to do the same.” + +“They say that when good Americans die they go to Paris,” chuckled Sir +Thomas, who had a large wardrobe of Humour’s cast-off clothes. + +“Really! And where do bad Americans go to when they die?” inquired the +duchess. + +“They go to America,” murmured Lord Henry. + +Sir Thomas frowned. “I am afraid that your nephew is prejudiced against +that great country,” he said to Lady Agatha. “I have travelled all over +it in cars provided by the directors, who, in such matters, are +extremely civil. I assure you that it is an education to visit it.” + +“But must we really see Chicago in order to be educated?” asked Mr. +Erskine plaintively. “I don’t feel up to the journey.” + +Sir Thomas waved his hand. “Mr. Erskine of Treadley has the world on +his shelves. We practical men like to see things, not to read about +them. The Americans are an extremely interesting people. They are +absolutely reasonable. I think that is their distinguishing +characteristic. Yes, Mr. Erskine, an absolutely reasonable people. I +assure you there is no nonsense about the Americans.” + +“How dreadful!” cried Lord Henry. “I can stand brute force, but brute +reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It +is hitting below the intellect.” + +“I do not understand you,” said Sir Thomas, growing rather red. + +“I do, Lord Henry,” murmured Mr. Erskine, with a smile. + +“Paradoxes are all very well in their way....” rejoined the baronet. + +“Was that a paradox?” asked Mr. Erskine. “I did not think so. Perhaps +it was. Well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth. To test reality +we must see it on the tight rope. When the verities become acrobats, we +can judge them.” + +“Dear me!” said Lady Agatha, “how you men argue! I am sure I never can +make out what you are talking about. Oh! Harry, I am quite vexed with +you. Why do you try to persuade our nice Mr. Dorian Gray to give up the +East End? I assure you he would be quite invaluable. They would love +his playing.” + +“I want him to play to me,” cried Lord Henry, smiling, and he looked +down the table and caught a bright answering glance. + +“But they are so unhappy in Whitechapel,” continued Lady Agatha. + +“I can sympathize with everything except suffering,” said Lord Henry, +shrugging his shoulders. “I cannot sympathize with that. It is too +ugly, too horrible, too distressing. There is something terribly morbid +in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathize with the +colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life’s sores, +the better.” + +“Still, the East End is a very important problem,” remarked Sir Thomas +with a grave shake of the head. + +“Quite so,” answered the young lord. “It is the problem of slavery, and +we try to solve it by amusing the slaves.” + +The politician looked at him keenly. “What change do you propose, +then?” he asked. + +Lord Henry laughed. “I don’t desire to change anything in England +except the weather,” he answered. “I am quite content with philosophic +contemplation. But, as the nineteenth century has gone bankrupt through +an over-expenditure of sympathy, I would suggest that we should appeal +to science to put us straight. The advantage of the emotions is that +they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is not +emotional.” + +“But we have such grave responsibilities,” ventured Mrs. Vandeleur +timidly. + +“Terribly grave,” echoed Lady Agatha. + +Lord Henry looked over at Mr. Erskine. “Humanity takes itself too +seriously. It is the world’s original sin. If the caveman had known how +to laugh, history would have been different.” + +“You are really very comforting,” warbled the duchess. “I have always +felt rather guilty when I came to see your dear aunt, for I take no +interest at all in the East End. For the future I shall be able to look +her in the face without a blush.” + +“A blush is very becoming, Duchess,” remarked Lord Henry. + +“Only when one is young,” she answered. “When an old woman like myself +blushes, it is a very bad sign. Ah! Lord Henry, I wish you would tell +me how to become young again.” + +He thought for a moment. “Can you remember any great error that you +committed in your early days, Duchess?” he asked, looking at her across +the table. + +“A great many, I fear,” she cried. + +“Then commit them over again,” he said gravely. “To get back one’s +youth, one has merely to repeat one’s follies.” + +“A delightful theory!” she exclaimed. “I must put it into practice.” + +“A dangerous theory!” came from Sir Thomas’s tight lips. Lady Agatha +shook her head, but could not help being amused. Mr. Erskine listened. + +“Yes,” he continued, “that is one of the great secrets of life. +Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and +discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are +one’s mistakes.” + +A laugh ran round the table. + +He played with the idea and grew wilful; tossed it into the air and +transformed it; let it escape and recaptured it; made it iridescent +with fancy and winged it with paradox. The praise of folly, as he went +on, soared into a philosophy, and philosophy herself became young, and +catching the mad music of pleasure, wearing, one might fancy, her +wine-stained robe and wreath of ivy, danced like a Bacchante over the +hills of life, and mocked the slow Silenus for being sober. Facts fled +before her like frightened forest things. Her white feet trod the huge +press at which wise Omar sits, till the seething grape-juice rose round +her bare limbs in waves of purple bubbles, or crawled in red foam over +the vat’s black, dripping, sloping sides. It was an extraordinary +improvisation. He felt that the eyes of Dorian Gray were fixed on him, +and the consciousness that amongst his audience there was one whose +temperament he wished to fascinate seemed to give his wit keenness and +to lend colour to his imagination. He was brilliant, fantastic, +irresponsible. He charmed his listeners out of themselves, and they +followed his pipe, laughing. Dorian Gray never took his gaze off him, +but sat like one under a spell, smiles chasing each other over his lips +and wonder growing grave in his darkening eyes. + +At last, liveried in the costume of the age, reality entered the room +in the shape of a servant to tell the duchess that her carriage was +waiting. She wrung her hands in mock despair. “How annoying!” she +cried. “I must go. I have to call for my husband at the club, to take +him to some absurd meeting at Willis’s Rooms, where he is going to be +in the chair. If I am late he is sure to be furious, and I couldn’t +have a scene in this bonnet. It is far too fragile. A harsh word would +ruin it. No, I must go, dear Agatha. Good-bye, Lord Henry, you are +quite delightful and dreadfully demoralizing. I am sure I don’t know +what to say about your views. You must come and dine with us some +night. Tuesday? Are you disengaged Tuesday?” + +“For you I would throw over anybody, Duchess,” said Lord Henry with a +bow. + +“Ah! that is very nice, and very wrong of you,” she cried; “so mind you +come”; and she swept out of the room, followed by Lady Agatha and the +other ladies. + +When Lord Henry had sat down again, Mr. Erskine moved round, and taking +a chair close to him, placed his hand upon his arm. + +“You talk books away,” he said; “why don’t you write one?” + +“I am too fond of reading books to care to write them, Mr. Erskine. I +should like to write a novel certainly, a novel that would be as lovely +as a Persian carpet and as unreal. But there is no literary public in +England for anything except newspapers, primers, and encyclopaedias. Of +all people in the world the English have the least sense of the beauty +of literature.” + +“I fear you are right,” answered Mr. Erskine. “I myself used to have +literary ambitions, but I gave them up long ago. And now, my dear young +friend, if you will allow me to call you so, may I ask if you really +meant all that you said to us at lunch?” + +“I quite forget what I said,” smiled Lord Henry. “Was it all very bad?” + +“Very bad indeed. In fact I consider you extremely dangerous, and if +anything happens to our good duchess, we shall all look on you as being +primarily responsible. But I should like to talk to you about life. The +generation into which I was born was tedious. Some day, when you are +tired of London, come down to Treadley and expound to me your +philosophy of pleasure over some admirable Burgundy I am fortunate +enough to possess.” + +“I shall be charmed. A visit to Treadley would be a great privilege. It +has a perfect host, and a perfect library.” + +“You will complete it,” answered the old gentleman with a courteous +bow. “And now I must bid good-bye to your excellent aunt. I am due at +the Athenaeum. It is the hour when we sleep there.” + +“All of you, Mr. Erskine?” + +“Forty of us, in forty arm-chairs. We are practising for an English +Academy of Letters.” + +Lord Henry laughed and rose. “I am going to the park,” he cried. + +As he was passing out of the door, Dorian Gray touched him on the arm. +“Let me come with you,” he murmured. + +“But I thought you had promised Basil Hallward to go and see him,” +answered Lord Henry. + +“I would sooner come with you; yes, I feel I must come with you. Do let +me. And you will promise to talk to me all the time? No one talks so +wonderfully as you do.” + +“Ah! I have talked quite enough for to-day,” said Lord Henry, smiling. +“All I want now is to look at life. You may come and look at it with +me, if you care to.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray was reclining in a luxurious +arm-chair, in the little library of Lord Henry’s house in Mayfair. It +was, in its way, a very charming room, with its high panelled +wainscoting of olive-stained oak, its cream-coloured frieze and ceiling +of raised plasterwork, and its brickdust felt carpet strewn with silk, +long-fringed Persian rugs. On a tiny satinwood table stood a statuette +by Clodion, and beside it lay a copy of Les Cent Nouvelles, bound for +Margaret of Valois by Clovis Eve and powdered with the gilt daisies +that Queen had selected for her device. Some large blue china jars and +parrot-tulips were ranged on the mantelshelf, and through the small +leaded panes of the window streamed the apricot-coloured light of a +summer day in London. + +Lord Henry had not yet come in. He was always late on principle, his +principle being that punctuality is the thief of time. So the lad was +looking rather sulky, as with listless fingers he turned over the pages +of an elaborately illustrated edition of Manon Lescaut that he had +found in one of the book-cases. The formal monotonous ticking of the +Louis Quatorze clock annoyed him. Once or twice he thought of going +away. + +At last he heard a step outside, and the door opened. “How late you +are, Harry!” he murmured. + +“I am afraid it is not Harry, Mr. Gray,” answered a shrill voice. + +He glanced quickly round and rose to his feet. “I beg your pardon. I +thought—” + +“You thought it was my husband. It is only his wife. You must let me +introduce myself. I know you quite well by your photographs. I think my +husband has got seventeen of them.” + +“Not seventeen, Lady Henry?” + +“Well, eighteen, then. And I saw you with him the other night at the +opera.” She laughed nervously as she spoke, and watched him with her +vague forget-me-not eyes. She was a curious woman, whose dresses always +looked as if they had been designed in a rage and put on in a tempest. +She was usually in love with somebody, and, as her passion was never +returned, she had kept all her illusions. She tried to look +picturesque, but only succeeded in being untidy. Her name was Victoria, +and she had a perfect mania for going to church. + +“That was at Lohengrin, Lady Henry, I think?” + +“Yes; it was at dear Lohengrin. I like Wagner’s music better than +anybody’s. It is so loud that one can talk the whole time without other +people hearing what one says. That is a great advantage, don’t you +think so, Mr. Gray?” + +The same nervous staccato laugh broke from her thin lips, and her +fingers began to play with a long tortoise-shell paper-knife. + +Dorian smiled and shook his head: “I am afraid I don’t think so, Lady +Henry. I never talk during music—at least, during good music. If one +hears bad music, it is one’s duty to drown it in conversation.” + +“Ah! that is one of Harry’s views, isn’t it, Mr. Gray? I always hear +Harry’s views from his friends. It is the only way I get to know of +them. But you must not think I don’t like good music. I adore it, but I +am afraid of it. It makes me too romantic. I have simply worshipped +pianists—two at a time, sometimes, Harry tells me. I don’t know what it +is about them. Perhaps it is that they are foreigners. They all are, +ain’t they? Even those that are born in England become foreigners after +a time, don’t they? It is so clever of them, and such a compliment to +art. Makes it quite cosmopolitan, doesn’t it? You have never been to +any of my parties, have you, Mr. Gray? You must come. I can’t afford +orchids, but I spare no expense in foreigners. They make one’s rooms +look so picturesque. But here is Harry! Harry, I came in to look for +you, to ask you something—I forget what it was—and I found Mr. Gray +here. We have had such a pleasant chat about music. We have quite the +same ideas. No; I think our ideas are quite different. But he has been +most pleasant. I am so glad I’ve seen him.” + +“I am charmed, my love, quite charmed,” said Lord Henry, elevating his +dark, crescent-shaped eyebrows and looking at them both with an amused +smile. “So sorry I am late, Dorian. I went to look after a piece of old +brocade in Wardour Street and had to bargain for hours for it. Nowadays +people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.” + +“I am afraid I must be going,” exclaimed Lady Henry, breaking an +awkward silence with her silly sudden laugh. “I have promised to drive +with the duchess. Good-bye, Mr. Gray. Good-bye, Harry. You are dining +out, I suppose? So am I. Perhaps I shall see you at Lady Thornbury’s.” + +“I dare say, my dear,” said Lord Henry, shutting the door behind her +as, looking like a bird of paradise that had been out all night in the +rain, she flitted out of the room, leaving a faint odour of +frangipanni. Then he lit a cigarette and flung himself down on the +sofa. + +“Never marry a woman with straw-coloured hair, Dorian,” he said after a +few puffs. + +“Why, Harry?” + +“Because they are so sentimental.” + +“But I like sentimental people.” + +“Never marry at all, Dorian. Men marry because they are tired; women, +because they are curious: both are disappointed.” + +“I don’t think I am likely to marry, Harry. I am too much in love. That +is one of your aphorisms. I am putting it into practice, as I do +everything that you say.” + +“Who are you in love with?” asked Lord Henry after a pause. + +“With an actress,” said Dorian Gray, blushing. + +Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “That is a rather commonplace +_début_.” + +“You would not say so if you saw her, Harry.” + +“Who is she?” + +“Her name is Sibyl Vane.” + +“Never heard of her.” + +“No one has. People will some day, however. She is a genius.” + +“My dear boy, no woman is a genius. Women are a decorative sex. They +never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. Women represent +the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the triumph of +mind over morals.” + +“Harry, how can you?” + +“My dear Dorian, it is quite true. I am analysing women at present, so +I ought to know. The subject is not so abstruse as I thought it was. I +find that, ultimately, there are only two kinds of women, the plain and +the coloured. The plain women are very useful. If you want to gain a +reputation for respectability, you have merely to take them down to +supper. The other women are very charming. They commit one mistake, +however. They paint in order to try and look young. Our grandmothers +painted in order to try and talk brilliantly. _Rouge_ and _esprit_ used +to go together. That is all over now. As long as a woman can look ten +years younger than her own daughter, she is perfectly satisfied. As for +conversation, there are only five women in London worth talking to, and +two of these can’t be admitted into decent society. However, tell me +about your genius. How long have you known her?” + +“Ah! Harry, your views terrify me.” + +“Never mind that. How long have you known her?” + +“About three weeks.” + +“And where did you come across her?” + +“I will tell you, Harry, but you mustn’t be unsympathetic about it. +After all, it never would have happened if I had not met you. You +filled me with a wild desire to know everything about life. For days +after I met you, something seemed to throb in my veins. As I lounged in +the park, or strolled down Piccadilly, I used to look at every one who +passed me and wonder, with a mad curiosity, what sort of lives they +led. Some of them fascinated me. Others filled me with terror. There +was an exquisite poison in the air. I had a passion for sensations.... +Well, one evening about seven o’clock, I determined to go out in search +of some adventure. I felt that this grey monstrous London of ours, with +its myriads of people, its sordid sinners, and its splendid sins, as +you once phrased it, must have something in store for me. I fancied a +thousand things. The mere danger gave me a sense of delight. I +remembered what you had said to me on that wonderful evening when we +first dined together, about the search for beauty being the real secret +of life. I don’t know what I expected, but I went out and wandered +eastward, soon losing my way in a labyrinth of grimy streets and black +grassless squares. About half-past eight I passed by an absurd little +theatre, with great flaring gas-jets and gaudy play-bills. A hideous +Jew, in the most amazing waistcoat I ever beheld in my life, was +standing at the entrance, smoking a vile cigar. He had greasy ringlets, +and an enormous diamond blazed in the centre of a soiled shirt. ‘Have a +box, my Lord?’ he said, when he saw me, and he took off his hat with an +air of gorgeous servility. There was something about him, Harry, that +amused me. He was such a monster. You will laugh at me, I know, but I +really went in and paid a whole guinea for the stage-box. To the +present day I can’t make out why I did so; and yet if I hadn’t—my dear +Harry, if I hadn’t—I should have missed the greatest romance of my +life. I see you are laughing. It is horrid of you!” + +“I am not laughing, Dorian; at least I am not laughing at you. But you +should not say the greatest romance of your life. You should say the +first romance of your life. You will always be loved, and you will +always be in love with love. A _grande passion_ is the privilege of +people who have nothing to do. That is the one use of the idle classes +of a country. Don’t be afraid. There are exquisite things in store for +you. This is merely the beginning.” + +“Do you think my nature so shallow?” cried Dorian Gray angrily. + +“No; I think your nature so deep.” + +“How do you mean?” + +“My dear boy, the people who love only once in their lives are really +the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I +call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. +Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life +of the intellect—simply a confession of failure. Faithfulness! I must +analyse it some day. The passion for property is in it. There are many +things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might +pick them up. But I don’t want to interrupt you. Go on with your +story.” + +“Well, I found myself seated in a horrid little private box, with a +vulgar drop-scene staring me in the face. I looked out from behind the +curtain and surveyed the house. It was a tawdry affair, all Cupids and +cornucopias, like a third-rate wedding-cake. The gallery and pit were +fairly full, but the two rows of dingy stalls were quite empty, and +there was hardly a person in what I suppose they called the +dress-circle. Women went about with oranges and ginger-beer, and there +was a terrible consumption of nuts going on.” + +“It must have been just like the palmy days of the British drama.” + +“Just like, I should fancy, and very depressing. I began to wonder what +on earth I should do when I caught sight of the play-bill. What do you +think the play was, Harry?” + +“I should think ‘The Idiot Boy’, or ‘Dumb but Innocent’. Our fathers +used to like that sort of piece, I believe. The longer I live, Dorian, +the more keenly I feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is +not good enough for us. In art, as in politics, _les grandpères ont +toujours tort_.” + +“This play was good enough for us, Harry. It was Romeo and Juliet. I +must admit that I was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing Shakespeare +done in such a wretched hole of a place. Still, I felt interested, in a +sort of way. At any rate, I determined to wait for the first act. There +was a dreadful orchestra, presided over by a young Hebrew who sat at a +cracked piano, that nearly drove me away, but at last the drop-scene +was drawn up and the play began. Romeo was a stout elderly gentleman, +with corked eyebrows, a husky tragedy voice, and a figure like a +beer-barrel. Mercutio was almost as bad. He was played by the +low-comedian, who had introduced gags of his own and was on most +friendly terms with the pit. They were both as grotesque as the +scenery, and that looked as if it had come out of a country-booth. But +Juliet! Harry, imagine a girl, hardly seventeen years of age, with a +little, flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of +dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips that were +like the petals of a rose. She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen +in my life. You said to me once that pathos left you unmoved, but that +beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears. I tell you, +Harry, I could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came +across me. And her voice—I never heard such a voice. It was very low at +first, with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon one’s +ear. Then it became a little louder, and sounded like a flute or a +distant hautboy. In the garden-scene it had all the tremulous ecstasy +that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing. There +were moments, later on, when it had the wild passion of violins. You +know how a voice can stir one. Your voice and the voice of Sibyl Vane +are two things that I shall never forget. When I close my eyes, I hear +them, and each of them says something different. I don’t know which to +follow. Why should I not love her? Harry, I do love her. She is +everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One +evening she is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. I have +seen her die in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison from +her lover’s lips. I have watched her wandering through the forest of +Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap. +She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and +given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of. She has been +innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike +throat. I have seen her in every age and in every costume. Ordinary +women never appeal to one’s imagination. They are limited to their +century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as +easily as one knows their bonnets. One can always find them. There is +no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and +chatter at tea-parties in the afternoon. They have their stereotyped +smile and their fashionable manner. They are quite obvious. But an +actress! How different an actress is! Harry! why didn’t you tell me +that the only thing worth loving is an actress?” + +“Because I have loved so many of them, Dorian.” + +“Oh, yes, horrid people with dyed hair and painted faces.” + +“Don’t run down dyed hair and painted faces. There is an extraordinary +charm in them, sometimes,” said Lord Henry. + +“I wish now I had not told you about Sibyl Vane.” + +“You could not have helped telling me, Dorian. All through your life +you will tell me everything you do.” + +“Yes, Harry, I believe that is true. I cannot help telling you things. +You have a curious influence over me. If I ever did a crime, I would +come and confess it to you. You would understand me.” + +“People like you—the wilful sunbeams of life—don’t commit crimes, +Dorian. But I am much obliged for the compliment, all the same. And now +tell me—reach me the matches, like a good boy—thanks—what are your +actual relations with Sibyl Vane?” + +Dorian Gray leaped to his feet, with flushed cheeks and burning eyes. +“Harry! Sibyl Vane is sacred!” + +“It is only the sacred things that are worth touching, Dorian,” said +Lord Henry, with a strange touch of pathos in his voice. “But why +should you be annoyed? I suppose she will belong to you some day. When +one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one’s self, and one +always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a +romance. You know her, at any rate, I suppose?” + +“Of course I know her. On the first night I was at the theatre, the +horrid old Jew came round to the box after the performance was over and +offered to take me behind the scenes and introduce me to her. I was +furious with him, and told him that Juliet had been dead for hundreds +of years and that her body was lying in a marble tomb in Verona. I +think, from his blank look of amazement, that he was under the +impression that I had taken too much champagne, or something.” + +“I am not surprised.” + +“Then he asked me if I wrote for any of the newspapers. I told him I +never even read them. He seemed terribly disappointed at that, and +confided to me that all the dramatic critics were in a conspiracy +against him, and that they were every one of them to be bought.” + +“I should not wonder if he was quite right there. But, on the other +hand, judging from their appearance, most of them cannot be at all +expensive.” + +“Well, he seemed to think they were beyond his means,” laughed Dorian. +“By this time, however, the lights were being put out in the theatre, +and I had to go. He wanted me to try some cigars that he strongly +recommended. I declined. The next night, of course, I arrived at the +place again. When he saw me, he made me a low bow and assured me that I +was a munificent patron of art. He was a most offensive brute, though +he had an extraordinary passion for Shakespeare. He told me once, with +an air of pride, that his five bankruptcies were entirely due to ‘The +Bard,’ as he insisted on calling him. He seemed to think it a +distinction.” + +“It was a distinction, my dear Dorian—a great distinction. Most people +become bankrupt through having invested too heavily in the prose of +life. To have ruined one’s self over poetry is an honour. But when did +you first speak to Miss Sibyl Vane?” + +“The third night. She had been playing Rosalind. I could not help going +round. I had thrown her some flowers, and she had looked at me—at least +I fancied that she had. The old Jew was persistent. He seemed +determined to take me behind, so I consented. It was curious my not +wanting to know her, wasn’t it?” + +“No; I don’t think so.” + +“My dear Harry, why?” + +“I will tell you some other time. Now I want to know about the girl.” + +“Sibyl? Oh, she was so shy and so gentle. There is something of a child +about her. Her eyes opened wide in exquisite wonder when I told her +what I thought of her performance, and she seemed quite unconscious of +her power. I think we were both rather nervous. The old Jew stood +grinning at the doorway of the dusty greenroom, making elaborate +speeches about us both, while we stood looking at each other like +children. He would insist on calling me ‘My Lord,’ so I had to assure +Sibyl that I was not anything of the kind. She said quite simply to me, +‘You look more like a prince. I must call you Prince Charming.’” + +“Upon my word, Dorian, Miss Sibyl knows how to pay compliments.” + +“You don’t understand her, Harry. She regarded me merely as a person in +a play. She knows nothing of life. She lives with her mother, a faded +tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta +dressing-wrapper on the first night, and looks as if she had seen +better days.” + +“I know that look. It depresses me,” murmured Lord Henry, examining his +rings. + +“The Jew wanted to tell me her history, but I said it did not interest +me.” + +“You were quite right. There is always something infinitely mean about +other people’s tragedies.” + +“Sibyl is the only thing I care about. What is it to me where she came +from? From her little head to her little feet, she is absolutely and +entirely divine. Every night of my life I go to see her act, and every +night she is more marvellous.” + +“That is the reason, I suppose, that you never dine with me now. I +thought you must have some curious romance on hand. You have; but it is +not quite what I expected.” + +“My dear Harry, we either lunch or sup together every day, and I have +been to the opera with you several times,” said Dorian, opening his +blue eyes in wonder. + +“You always come dreadfully late.” + +“Well, I can’t help going to see Sibyl play,” he cried, “even if it is +only for a single act. I get hungry for her presence; and when I think +of the wonderful soul that is hidden away in that little ivory body, I +am filled with awe.” + +“You can dine with me to-night, Dorian, can’t you?” + +He shook his head. “To-night she is Imogen,” he answered, “and +to-morrow night she will be Juliet.” + +“When is she Sibyl Vane?” + +“Never.” + +“I congratulate you.” + +“How horrid you are! She is all the great heroines of the world in one. +She is more than an individual. You laugh, but I tell you she has +genius. I love her, and I must make her love me. You, who know all the +secrets of life, tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to +make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our +laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their +dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. My God, Harry, +how I worship her!” He was walking up and down the room as he spoke. +Hectic spots of red burned on his cheeks. He was terribly excited. + +Lord Henry watched him with a subtle sense of pleasure. How different +he was now from the shy frightened boy he had met in Basil Hallward’s +studio! His nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of +scarlet flame. Out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and +desire had come to meet it on the way. + +“And what do you propose to do?” said Lord Henry at last. + +“I want you and Basil to come with me some night and see her act. I +have not the slightest fear of the result. You are certain to +acknowledge her genius. Then we must get her out of the Jew’s hands. +She is bound to him for three years—at least for two years and eight +months—from the present time. I shall have to pay him something, of +course. When all that is settled, I shall take a West End theatre and +bring her out properly. She will make the world as mad as she has made +me.” + +“That would be impossible, my dear boy.” + +“Yes, she will. She has not merely art, consummate art-instinct, in +her, but she has personality also; and you have often told me that it +is personalities, not principles, that move the age.” + +“Well, what night shall we go?” + +“Let me see. To-day is Tuesday. Let us fix to-morrow. She plays Juliet +to-morrow.” + +“All right. The Bristol at eight o’clock; and I will get Basil.” + +“Not eight, Harry, please. Half-past six. We must be there before the +curtain rises. You must see her in the first act, where she meets +Romeo.” + +“Half-past six! What an hour! It will be like having a meat-tea, or +reading an English novel. It must be seven. No gentleman dines before +seven. Shall you see Basil between this and then? Or shall I write to +him?” + +“Dear Basil! I have not laid eyes on him for a week. It is rather +horrid of me, as he has sent me my portrait in the most wonderful +frame, specially designed by himself, and, though I am a little jealous +of the picture for being a whole month younger than I am, I must admit +that I delight in it. Perhaps you had better write to him. I don’t want +to see him alone. He says things that annoy me. He gives me good +advice.” + +Lord Henry smiled. “People are very fond of giving away what they need +most themselves. It is what I call the depth of generosity.” + +“Oh, Basil is the best of fellows, but he seems to me to be just a bit +of a Philistine. Since I have known you, Harry, I have discovered +that.” + +“Basil, my dear boy, puts everything that is charming in him into his +work. The consequence is that he has nothing left for life but his +prejudices, his principles, and his common sense. The only artists I +have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. Good +artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly +uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is +the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely +fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they +look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets +makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot +write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize.” + +“I wonder is that really so, Harry?” said Dorian Gray, putting some +perfume on his handkerchief out of a large, gold-topped bottle that +stood on the table. “It must be, if you say it. And now I am off. +Imogen is waiting for me. Don’t forget about to-morrow. Good-bye.” + +As he left the room, Lord Henry’s heavy eyelids drooped, and he began +to think. Certainly few people had ever interested him so much as +Dorian Gray, and yet the lad’s mad adoration of some one else caused +him not the slightest pang of annoyance or jealousy. He was pleased by +it. It made him a more interesting study. He had been always enthralled +by the methods of natural science, but the ordinary subject-matter of +that science had seemed to him trivial and of no import. And so he had +begun by vivisecting himself, as he had ended by vivisecting others. +Human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating. +Compared to it there was nothing else of any value. It was true that as +one watched life in its curious crucible of pain and pleasure, one +could not wear over one’s face a mask of glass, nor keep the sulphurous +fumes from troubling the brain and making the imagination turbid with +monstrous fancies and misshapen dreams. There were poisons so subtle +that to know their properties one had to sicken of them. There were +maladies so strange that one had to pass through them if one sought to +understand their nature. And, yet, what a great reward one received! +How wonderful the whole world became to one! To note the curious hard +logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to +observe where they met, and where they separated, at what point they +were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a +delight in that! What matter what the cost was? One could never pay too +high a price for any sensation. + +He was conscious—and the thought brought a gleam of pleasure into his +brown agate eyes—that it was through certain words of his, musical +words said with musical utterance, that Dorian Gray’s soul had turned +to this white girl and bowed in worship before her. To a large extent +the lad was his own creation. He had made him premature. That was +something. Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its +secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were +revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect +of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately +with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a complex +personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, +in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, +just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting. + +Yes, the lad was premature. He was gathering his harvest while it was +yet spring. The pulse and passion of youth were in him, but he was +becoming self-conscious. It was delightful to watch him. With his +beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. It +was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. He was like one +of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be +remote from one, but whose sorrows stir one’s sense of beauty, and +whose wounds are like red roses. + +Soul and body, body and soul—how mysterious they were! There was +animalism in the soul, and the body had its moments of spirituality. +The senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade. Who could say +where the fleshly impulse ceased, or the psychical impulse began? How +shallow were the arbitrary definitions of ordinary psychologists! And +yet how difficult to decide between the claims of the various schools! +Was the soul a shadow seated in the house of sin? Or was the body +really in the soul, as Giordano Bruno thought? The separation of spirit +from matter was a mystery, and the union of spirit with matter was a +mystery also. + +He began to wonder whether we could ever make psychology so absolute a +science that each little spring of life would be revealed to us. As it +was, we always misunderstood ourselves and rarely understood others. +Experience was of no ethical value. It was merely the name men gave to +their mistakes. Moralists had, as a rule, regarded it as a mode of +warning, had claimed for it a certain ethical efficacy in the formation +of character, had praised it as something that taught us what to follow +and showed us what to avoid. But there was no motive power in +experience. It was as little of an active cause as conscience itself. +All that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same +as our past, and that the sin we had done once, and with loathing, we +would do many times, and with joy. + +It was clear to him that the experimental method was the only method by +which one could arrive at any scientific analysis of the passions; and +certainly Dorian Gray was a subject made to his hand, and seemed to +promise rich and fruitful results. His sudden mad love for Sibyl Vane +was a psychological phenomenon of no small interest. There was no doubt +that curiosity had much to do with it, curiosity and the desire for new +experiences, yet it was not a simple, but rather a very complex +passion. What there was in it of the purely sensuous instinct of +boyhood had been transformed by the workings of the imagination, +changed into something that seemed to the lad himself to be remote from +sense, and was for that very reason all the more dangerous. It was the +passions about whose origin we deceived ourselves that tyrannized most +strongly over us. Our weakest motives were those of whose nature we +were conscious. It often happened that when we thought we were +experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves. + +While Lord Henry sat dreaming on these things, a knock came to the +door, and his valet entered and reminded him it was time to dress for +dinner. He got up and looked out into the street. The sunset had +smitten into scarlet gold the upper windows of the houses opposite. The +panes glowed like plates of heated metal. The sky above was like a +faded rose. He thought of his friend’s young fiery-coloured life and +wondered how it was all going to end. + +When he arrived home, about half-past twelve o’clock, he saw a telegram +lying on the hall table. He opened it and found it was from Dorian +Gray. It was to tell him that he was engaged to be married to Sibyl +Vane. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +“Mother, Mother, I am so happy!” whispered the girl, burying her face +in the lap of the faded, tired-looking woman who, with back turned to +the shrill intrusive light, was sitting in the one arm-chair that their +dingy sitting-room contained. “I am so happy!” she repeated, “and you +must be happy, too!” + +Mrs. Vane winced and put her thin, bismuth-whitened hands on her +daughter’s head. “Happy!” she echoed, “I am only happy, Sibyl, when I +see you act. You must not think of anything but your acting. Mr. Isaacs +has been very good to us, and we owe him money.” + +The girl looked up and pouted. “Money, Mother?” she cried, “what does +money matter? Love is more than money.” + +“Mr. Isaacs has advanced us fifty pounds to pay off our debts and to +get a proper outfit for James. You must not forget that, Sibyl. Fifty +pounds is a very large sum. Mr. Isaacs has been most considerate.” + +“He is not a gentleman, Mother, and I hate the way he talks to me,” +said the girl, rising to her feet and going over to the window. + +“I don’t know how we could manage without him,” answered the elder +woman querulously. + +Sibyl Vane tossed her head and laughed. “We don’t want him any more, +Mother. Prince Charming rules life for us now.” Then she paused. A rose +shook in her blood and shadowed her cheeks. Quick breath parted the +petals of her lips. They trembled. Some southern wind of passion swept +over her and stirred the dainty folds of her dress. “I love him,” she +said simply. + +“Foolish child! foolish child!” was the parrot-phrase flung in answer. +The waving of crooked, false-jewelled fingers gave grotesqueness to the +words. + +The girl laughed again. The joy of a caged bird was in her voice. Her +eyes caught the melody and echoed it in radiance, then closed for a +moment, as though to hide their secret. When they opened, the mist of a +dream had passed across them. + +Thin-lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair, hinted at +prudence, quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes the name +of common sense. She did not listen. She was free in her prison of +passion. Her prince, Prince Charming, was with her. She had called on +memory to remake him. She had sent her soul to search for him, and it +had brought him back. His kiss burned again upon her mouth. Her eyelids +were warm with his breath. + +Then wisdom altered its method and spoke of espial and discovery. This +young man might be rich. If so, marriage should be thought of. Against +the shell of her ear broke the waves of worldly cunning. The arrows of +craft shot by her. She saw the thin lips moving, and smiled. + +Suddenly she felt the need to speak. The wordy silence troubled her. +“Mother, Mother,” she cried, “why does he love me so much? I know why I +love him. I love him because he is like what love himself should be. +But what does he see in me? I am not worthy of him. And yet—why, I +cannot tell—though I feel so much beneath him, I don’t feel humble. I +feel proud, terribly proud. Mother, did you love my father as I love +Prince Charming?” + +The elder woman grew pale beneath the coarse powder that daubed her +cheeks, and her dry lips twitched with a spasm of pain. Sybil rushed to +her, flung her arms round her neck, and kissed her. “Forgive me, +Mother. I know it pains you to talk about our father. But it only pains +you because you loved him so much. Don’t look so sad. I am as happy +to-day as you were twenty years ago. Ah! let me be happy for ever!” + +“My child, you are far too young to think of falling in love. Besides, +what do you know of this young man? You don’t even know his name. The +whole thing is most inconvenient, and really, when James is going away +to Australia, and I have so much to think of, I must say that you +should have shown more consideration. However, as I said before, if he +is rich ...” + +“Ah! Mother, Mother, let me be happy!” + +Mrs. Vane glanced at her, and with one of those false theatrical +gestures that so often become a mode of second nature to a +stage-player, clasped her in her arms. At this moment, the door opened +and a young lad with rough brown hair came into the room. He was +thick-set of figure, and his hands and feet were large and somewhat +clumsy in movement. He was not so finely bred as his sister. One would +hardly have guessed the close relationship that existed between them. +Mrs. Vane fixed her eyes on him and intensified her smile. She mentally +elevated her son to the dignity of an audience. She felt sure that the +_tableau_ was interesting. + +“You might keep some of your kisses for me, Sibyl, I think,” said the +lad with a good-natured grumble. + +“Ah! but you don’t like being kissed, Jim,” she cried. “You are a +dreadful old bear.” And she ran across the room and hugged him. + +James Vane looked into his sister’s face with tenderness. “I want you +to come out with me for a walk, Sibyl. I don’t suppose I shall ever see +this horrid London again. I am sure I don’t want to.” + +“My son, don’t say such dreadful things,” murmured Mrs. Vane, taking up +a tawdry theatrical dress, with a sigh, and beginning to patch it. She +felt a little disappointed that he had not joined the group. It would +have increased the theatrical picturesqueness of the situation. + +“Why not, Mother? I mean it.” + +“You pain me, my son. I trust you will return from Australia in a +position of affluence. I believe there is no society of any kind in the +Colonies—nothing that I would call society—so when you have made your +fortune, you must come back and assert yourself in London.” + +“Society!” muttered the lad. “I don’t want to know anything about that. +I should like to make some money to take you and Sibyl off the stage. I +hate it.” + +“Oh, Jim!” said Sibyl, laughing, “how unkind of you! But are you really +going for a walk with me? That will be nice! I was afraid you were +going to say good-bye to some of your friends—to Tom Hardy, who gave +you that hideous pipe, or Ned Langton, who makes fun of you for smoking +it. It is very sweet of you to let me have your last afternoon. Where +shall we go? Let us go to the park.” + +“I am too shabby,” he answered, frowning. “Only swell people go to the +park.” + +“Nonsense, Jim,” she whispered, stroking the sleeve of his coat. + +He hesitated for a moment. “Very well,” he said at last, “but don’t be +too long dressing.” She danced out of the door. One could hear her +singing as she ran upstairs. Her little feet pattered overhead. + +He walked up and down the room two or three times. Then he turned to +the still figure in the chair. “Mother, are my things ready?” he asked. + +“Quite ready, James,” she answered, keeping her eyes on her work. For +some months past she had felt ill at ease when she was alone with this +rough stern son of hers. Her shallow secret nature was troubled when +their eyes met. She used to wonder if he suspected anything. The +silence, for he made no other observation, became intolerable to her. +She began to complain. Women defend themselves by attacking, just as +they attack by sudden and strange surrenders. “I hope you will be +contented, James, with your sea-faring life,” she said. “You must +remember that it is your own choice. You might have entered a +solicitor’s office. Solicitors are a very respectable class, and in the +country often dine with the best families.” + +“I hate offices, and I hate clerks,” he replied. “But you are quite +right. I have chosen my own life. All I say is, watch over Sibyl. Don’t +let her come to any harm. Mother, you must watch over her.” + +“James, you really talk very strangely. Of course I watch over Sibyl.” + +“I hear a gentleman comes every night to the theatre and goes behind to +talk to her. Is that right? What about that?” + +“You are speaking about things you don’t understand, James. In the +profession we are accustomed to receive a great deal of most gratifying +attention. I myself used to receive many bouquets at one time. That was +when acting was really understood. As for Sibyl, I do not know at +present whether her attachment is serious or not. But there is no doubt +that the young man in question is a perfect gentleman. He is always +most polite to me. Besides, he has the appearance of being rich, and +the flowers he sends are lovely.” + +“You don’t know his name, though,” said the lad harshly. + +“No,” answered his mother with a placid expression in her face. “He has +not yet revealed his real name. I think it is quite romantic of him. He +is probably a member of the aristocracy.” + +James Vane bit his lip. “Watch over Sibyl, Mother,” he cried, “watch +over her.” + +“My son, you distress me very much. Sibyl is always under my special +care. Of course, if this gentleman is wealthy, there is no reason why +she should not contract an alliance with him. I trust he is one of the +aristocracy. He has all the appearance of it, I must say. It might be a +most brilliant marriage for Sibyl. They would make a charming couple. +His good looks are really quite remarkable; everybody notices them.” + +The lad muttered something to himself and drummed on the window-pane +with his coarse fingers. He had just turned round to say something when +the door opened and Sibyl ran in. + +“How serious you both are!” she cried. “What is the matter?” + +“Nothing,” he answered. “I suppose one must be serious sometimes. +Good-bye, Mother; I will have my dinner at five o’clock. Everything is +packed, except my shirts, so you need not trouble.” + +“Good-bye, my son,” she answered with a bow of strained stateliness. + +She was extremely annoyed at the tone he had adopted with her, and +there was something in his look that had made her feel afraid. + +“Kiss me, Mother,” said the girl. Her flowerlike lips touched the +withered cheek and warmed its frost. + +“My child! my child!” cried Mrs. Vane, looking up to the ceiling in +search of an imaginary gallery. + +“Come, Sibyl,” said her brother impatiently. He hated his mother’s +affectations. + +They went out into the flickering, wind-blown sunlight and strolled +down the dreary Euston Road. The passersby glanced in wonder at the +sullen heavy youth who, in coarse, ill-fitting clothes, was in the +company of such a graceful, refined-looking girl. He was like a common +gardener walking with a rose. + +Jim frowned from time to time when he caught the inquisitive glance of +some stranger. He had that dislike of being stared at, which comes on +geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace. Sibyl, however, +was quite unconscious of the effect she was producing. Her love was +trembling in laughter on her lips. She was thinking of Prince Charming, +and, that she might think of him all the more, she did not talk of him, +but prattled on about the ship in which Jim was going to sail, about +the gold he was certain to find, about the wonderful heiress whose life +he was to save from the wicked, red-shirted bushrangers. For he was not +to remain a sailor, or a supercargo, or whatever he was going to be. +Oh, no! A sailor’s existence was dreadful. Fancy being cooped up in a +horrid ship, with the hoarse, hump-backed waves trying to get in, and a +black wind blowing the masts down and tearing the sails into long +screaming ribands! He was to leave the vessel at Melbourne, bid a +polite good-bye to the captain, and go off at once to the gold-fields. +Before a week was over he was to come across a large nugget of pure +gold, the largest nugget that had ever been discovered, and bring it +down to the coast in a waggon guarded by six mounted policemen. The +bushrangers were to attack them three times, and be defeated with +immense slaughter. Or, no. He was not to go to the gold-fields at all. +They were horrid places, where men got intoxicated, and shot each other +in bar-rooms, and used bad language. He was to be a nice sheep-farmer, +and one evening, as he was riding home, he was to see the beautiful +heiress being carried off by a robber on a black horse, and give chase, +and rescue her. Of course, she would fall in love with him, and he with +her, and they would get married, and come home, and live in an immense +house in London. Yes, there were delightful things in store for him. +But he must be very good, and not lose his temper, or spend his money +foolishly. She was only a year older than he was, but she knew so much +more of life. He must be sure, also, to write to her by every mail, and +to say his prayers each night before he went to sleep. God was very +good, and would watch over him. She would pray for him, too, and in a +few years he would come back quite rich and happy. + +The lad listened sulkily to her and made no answer. He was heart-sick +at leaving home. + +Yet it was not this alone that made him gloomy and morose. +Inexperienced though he was, he had still a strong sense of the danger +of Sibyl’s position. This young dandy who was making love to her could +mean her no good. He was a gentleman, and he hated him for that, hated +him through some curious race-instinct for which he could not account, +and which for that reason was all the more dominant within him. He was +conscious also of the shallowness and vanity of his mother’s nature, +and in that saw infinite peril for Sibyl and Sibyl’s happiness. +Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge +them; sometimes they forgive them. + +His mother! He had something on his mind to ask of her, something that +he had brooded on for many months of silence. A chance phrase that he +had heard at the theatre, a whispered sneer that had reached his ears +one night as he waited at the stage-door, had set loose a train of +horrible thoughts. He remembered it as if it had been the lash of a +hunting-crop across his face. His brows knit together into a wedge-like +furrow, and with a twitch of pain he bit his underlip. + +“You are not listening to a word I am saying, Jim,” cried Sibyl, “and I +am making the most delightful plans for your future. Do say something.” + +“What do you want me to say?” + +“Oh! that you will be a good boy and not forget us,” she answered, +smiling at him. + +He shrugged his shoulders. “You are more likely to forget me than I am +to forget you, Sibyl.” + +She flushed. “What do you mean, Jim?” she asked. + +“You have a new friend, I hear. Who is he? Why have you not told me +about him? He means you no good.” + +“Stop, Jim!” she exclaimed. “You must not say anything against him. I +love him.” + +“Why, you don’t even know his name,” answered the lad. “Who is he? I +have a right to know.” + +“He is called Prince Charming. Don’t you like the name. Oh! you silly +boy! you should never forget it. If you only saw him, you would think +him the most wonderful person in the world. Some day you will meet +him—when you come back from Australia. You will like him so much. +Everybody likes him, and I ... love him. I wish you could come to the +theatre to-night. He is going to be there, and I am to play Juliet. Oh! +how I shall play it! Fancy, Jim, to be in love and play Juliet! To have +him sitting there! To play for his delight! I am afraid I may frighten +the company, frighten or enthrall them. To be in love is to surpass +one’s self. Poor dreadful Mr. Isaacs will be shouting ‘genius’ to his +loafers at the bar. He has preached me as a dogma; to-night he will +announce me as a revelation. I feel it. And it is all his, his only, +Prince Charming, my wonderful lover, my god of graces. But I am poor +beside him. Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the +door, love flies in through the window. Our proverbs want rewriting. +They were made in winter, and it is summer now; spring-time for me, I +think, a very dance of blossoms in blue skies.” + +“He is a gentleman,” said the lad sullenly. + +“A prince!” she cried musically. “What more do you want?” + +“He wants to enslave you.” + +“I shudder at the thought of being free.” + +“I want you to beware of him.” + +“To see him is to worship him; to know him is to trust him.” + +“Sibyl, you are mad about him.” + +She laughed and took his arm. “You dear old Jim, you talk as if you +were a hundred. Some day you will be in love yourself. Then you will +know what it is. Don’t look so sulky. Surely you should be glad to +think that, though you are going away, you leave me happier than I have +ever been before. Life has been hard for us both, terribly hard and +difficult. But it will be different now. You are going to a new world, +and I have found one. Here are two chairs; let us sit down and see the +smart people go by.” + +They took their seats amidst a crowd of watchers. The tulip-beds across +the road flamed like throbbing rings of fire. A white dust—tremulous +cloud of orris-root it seemed—hung in the panting air. The brightly +coloured parasols danced and dipped like monstrous butterflies. + +She made her brother talk of himself, his hopes, his prospects. He +spoke slowly and with effort. They passed words to each other as +players at a game pass counters. Sibyl felt oppressed. She could not +communicate her joy. A faint smile curving that sullen mouth was all +the echo she could win. After some time she became silent. Suddenly she +caught a glimpse of golden hair and laughing lips, and in an open +carriage with two ladies Dorian Gray drove past. + +She started to her feet. “There he is!” she cried. + +“Who?” said Jim Vane. + +“Prince Charming,” she answered, looking after the victoria. + +He jumped up and seized her roughly by the arm. “Show him to me. Which +is he? Point him out. I must see him!” he exclaimed; but at that moment +the Duke of Berwick’s four-in-hand came between, and when it had left +the space clear, the carriage had swept out of the park. + +“He is gone,” murmured Sibyl sadly. “I wish you had seen him.” + +“I wish I had, for as sure as there is a God in heaven, if he ever does +you any wrong, I shall kill him.” + +She looked at him in horror. He repeated his words. They cut the air +like a dagger. The people round began to gape. A lady standing close to +her tittered. + +“Come away, Jim; come away,” she whispered. He followed her doggedly as +she passed through the crowd. He felt glad at what he had said. + +When they reached the Achilles Statue, she turned round. There was pity +in her eyes that became laughter on her lips. She shook her head at +him. “You are foolish, Jim, utterly foolish; a bad-tempered boy, that +is all. How can you say such horrible things? You don’t know what you +are talking about. You are simply jealous and unkind. Ah! I wish you +would fall in love. Love makes people good, and what you said was +wicked.” + +“I am sixteen,” he answered, “and I know what I am about. Mother is no +help to you. She doesn’t understand how to look after you. I wish now +that I was not going to Australia at all. I have a great mind to chuck +the whole thing up. I would, if my articles hadn’t been signed.” + +“Oh, don’t be so serious, Jim. You are like one of the heroes of those +silly melodramas Mother used to be so fond of acting in. I am not going +to quarrel with you. I have seen him, and oh! to see him is perfect +happiness. We won’t quarrel. I know you would never harm any one I +love, would you?” + +“Not as long as you love him, I suppose,” was the sullen answer. + +“I shall love him for ever!” she cried. + +“And he?” + +“For ever, too!” + +“He had better.” + +She shrank from him. Then she laughed and put her hand on his arm. He +was merely a boy. + +At the Marble Arch they hailed an omnibus, which left them close to +their shabby home in the Euston Road. It was after five o’clock, and +Sibyl had to lie down for a couple of hours before acting. Jim insisted +that she should do so. He said that he would sooner part with her when +their mother was not present. She would be sure to make a scene, and he +detested scenes of every kind. + +In Sybil’s own room they parted. There was jealousy in the lad’s heart, +and a fierce murderous hatred of the stranger who, as it seemed to him, +had come between them. Yet, when her arms were flung round his neck, +and her fingers strayed through his hair, he softened and kissed her +with real affection. There were tears in his eyes as he went +downstairs. + +His mother was waiting for him below. She grumbled at his +unpunctuality, as he entered. He made no answer, but sat down to his +meagre meal. The flies buzzed round the table and crawled over the +stained cloth. Through the rumble of omnibuses, and the clatter of +street-cabs, he could hear the droning voice devouring each minute that +was left to him. + +After some time, he thrust away his plate and put his head in his +hands. He felt that he had a right to know. It should have been told to +him before, if it was as he suspected. Leaden with fear, his mother +watched him. Words dropped mechanically from her lips. A tattered lace +handkerchief twitched in her fingers. When the clock struck six, he got +up and went to the door. Then he turned back and looked at her. Their +eyes met. In hers he saw a wild appeal for mercy. It enraged him. + +“Mother, I have something to ask you,” he said. Her eyes wandered +vaguely about the room. She made no answer. “Tell me the truth. I have +a right to know. Were you married to my father?” + +She heaved a deep sigh. It was a sigh of relief. The terrible moment, +the moment that night and day, for weeks and months, she had dreaded, +had come at last, and yet she felt no terror. Indeed, in some measure +it was a disappointment to her. The vulgar directness of the question +called for a direct answer. The situation had not been gradually led up +to. It was crude. It reminded her of a bad rehearsal. + +“No,” she answered, wondering at the harsh simplicity of life. + +“My father was a scoundrel then!” cried the lad, clenching his fists. + +She shook her head. “I knew he was not free. We loved each other very +much. If he had lived, he would have made provision for us. Don’t speak +against him, my son. He was your father, and a gentleman. Indeed, he +was highly connected.” + +An oath broke from his lips. “I don’t care for myself,” he exclaimed, +“but don’t let Sibyl.... It is a gentleman, isn’t it, who is in love +with her, or says he is? Highly connected, too, I suppose.” + +For a moment a hideous sense of humiliation came over the woman. Her +head drooped. She wiped her eyes with shaking hands. “Sibyl has a +mother,” she murmured; “I had none.” + +The lad was touched. He went towards her, and stooping down, he kissed +her. “I am sorry if I have pained you by asking about my father,” he +said, “but I could not help it. I must go now. Good-bye. Don’t forget +that you will have only one child now to look after, and believe me +that if this man wrongs my sister, I will find out who he is, track him +down, and kill him like a dog. I swear it.” + +The exaggerated folly of the threat, the passionate gesture that +accompanied it, the mad melodramatic words, made life seem more vivid +to her. She was familiar with the atmosphere. She breathed more freely, +and for the first time for many months she really admired her son. She +would have liked to have continued the scene on the same emotional +scale, but he cut her short. Trunks had to be carried down and mufflers +looked for. The lodging-house drudge bustled in and out. There was the +bargaining with the cabman. The moment was lost in vulgar details. It +was with a renewed feeling of disappointment that she waved the +tattered lace handkerchief from the window, as her son drove away. She +was conscious that a great opportunity had been wasted. She consoled +herself by telling Sibyl how desolate she felt her life would be, now +that she had only one child to look after. She remembered the phrase. +It had pleased her. Of the threat she said nothing. It was vividly and +dramatically expressed. She felt that they would all laugh at it some +day. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +“I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry that +evening as Hallward was shown into a little private room at the Bristol +where dinner had been laid for three. + +“No, Harry,” answered the artist, giving his hat and coat to the bowing +waiter. “What is it? Nothing about politics, I hope! They don’t +interest me. There is hardly a single person in the House of Commons +worth painting, though many of them would be the better for a little +whitewashing.” + +“Dorian Gray is engaged to be married,” said Lord Henry, watching him +as he spoke. + +Hallward started and then frowned. “Dorian engaged to be married!” he +cried. “Impossible!” + +“It is perfectly true.” + +“To whom?” + +“To some little actress or other.” + +“I can’t believe it. Dorian is far too sensible.” + +“Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then, my dear +Basil.” + +“Marriage is hardly a thing that one can do now and then, Harry.” + +“Except in America,” rejoined Lord Henry languidly. “But I didn’t say +he was married. I said he was engaged to be married. There is a great +difference. I have a distinct remembrance of being married, but I have +no recollection at all of being engaged. I am inclined to think that I +never was engaged.” + +“But think of Dorian’s birth, and position, and wealth. It would be +absurd for him to marry so much beneath him.” + +“If you want to make him marry this girl, tell him that, Basil. He is +sure to do it, then. Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it +is always from the noblest motives.” + +“I hope the girl is good, Harry. I don’t want to see Dorian tied to +some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his +intellect.” + +“Oh, she is better than good—she is beautiful,” murmured Lord Henry, +sipping a glass of vermouth and orange-bitters. “Dorian says she is +beautiful, and he is not often wrong about things of that kind. Your +portrait of him has quickened his appreciation of the personal +appearance of other people. It has had that excellent effect, amongst +others. We are to see her to-night, if that boy doesn’t forget his +appointment.” + +“Are you serious?” + +“Quite serious, Basil. I should be miserable if I thought I should ever +be more serious than I am at the present moment.” + +“But do you approve of it, Harry?” asked the painter, walking up and +down the room and biting his lip. “You can’t approve of it, possibly. +It is some silly infatuation.” + +“I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. It is an absurd +attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air +our moral prejudices. I never take any notice of what common people +say, and I never interfere with what charming people do. If a +personality fascinates me, whatever mode of expression that personality +selects is absolutely delightful to me. Dorian Gray falls in love with +a beautiful girl who acts Juliet, and proposes to marry her. Why not? +If he wedded Messalina, he would be none the less interesting. You know +I am not a champion of marriage. The real drawback to marriage is that +it makes one unselfish. And unselfish people are colourless. They lack +individuality. Still, there are certain temperaments that marriage +makes more complex. They retain their egotism, and add to it many other +egos. They are forced to have more than one life. They become more +highly organized, and to be highly organized is, I should fancy, the +object of man’s existence. Besides, every experience is of value, and +whatever one may say against marriage, it is certainly an experience. I +hope that Dorian Gray will make this girl his wife, passionately adore +her for six months, and then suddenly become fascinated by some one +else. He would be a wonderful study.” + +“You don’t mean a single word of all that, Harry; you know you don’t. +If Dorian Gray’s life were spoiled, no one would be sorrier than +yourself. You are much better than you pretend to be.” + +Lord Henry laughed. “The reason we all like to think so well of others +is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer +terror. We think that we are generous because we credit our neighbour +with the possession of those virtues that are likely to be a benefit to +us. We praise the banker that we may overdraw our account, and find +good qualities in the highwayman in the hope that he may spare our +pockets. I mean everything that I have said. I have the greatest +contempt for optimism. As for a spoiled life, no life is spoiled but +one whose growth is arrested. If you want to mar a nature, you have +merely to reform it. As for marriage, of course that would be silly, +but there are other and more interesting bonds between men and women. I +will certainly encourage them. They have the charm of being +fashionable. But here is Dorian himself. He will tell you more than I +can.” + +“My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!” said the +lad, throwing off his evening cape with its satin-lined wings and +shaking each of his friends by the hand in turn. “I have never been so +happy. Of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are. And +yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my +life.” He was flushed with excitement and pleasure, and looked +extraordinarily handsome. + +“I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,” said Hallward, “but I +don’t quite forgive you for not having let me know of your engagement. +You let Harry know.” + +“And I don’t forgive you for being late for dinner,” broke in Lord +Henry, putting his hand on the lad’s shoulder and smiling as he spoke. +“Come, let us sit down and try what the new _chef_ here is like, and +then you will tell us how it all came about.” + +“There is really not much to tell,” cried Dorian as they took their +seats at the small round table. “What happened was simply this. After I +left you yesterday evening, Harry, I dressed, had some dinner at that +little Italian restaurant in Rupert Street you introduced me to, and +went down at eight o’clock to the theatre. Sibyl was playing Rosalind. +Of course, the scenery was dreadful and the Orlando absurd. But Sibyl! +You should have seen her! When she came on in her boy’s clothes, she +was perfectly wonderful. She wore a moss-coloured velvet jerkin with +cinnamon sleeves, slim, brown, cross-gartered hose, a dainty little +green cap with a hawk’s feather caught in a jewel, and a hooded cloak +lined with dull red. She had never seemed to me more exquisite. She had +all the delicate grace of that Tanagra figurine that you have in your +studio, Basil. Her hair clustered round her face like dark leaves round +a pale rose. As for her acting—well, you shall see her to-night. She is +simply a born artist. I sat in the dingy box absolutely enthralled. I +forgot that I was in London and in the nineteenth century. I was away +with my love in a forest that no man had ever seen. After the +performance was over, I went behind and spoke to her. As we were +sitting together, suddenly there came into her eyes a look that I had +never seen there before. My lips moved towards hers. We kissed each +other. I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment. It seemed to +me that all my life had been narrowed to one perfect point of +rose-coloured joy. She trembled all over and shook like a white +narcissus. Then she flung herself on her knees and kissed my hands. I +feel that I should not tell you all this, but I can’t help it. Of +course, our engagement is a dead secret. She has not even told her own +mother. I don’t know what my guardians will say. Lord Radley is sure to +be furious. I don’t care. I shall be of age in less than a year, and +then I can do what I like. I have been right, Basil, haven’t I, to take +my love out of poetry and to find my wife in Shakespeare’s plays? Lips +that Shakespeare taught to speak have whispered their secret in my ear. +I have had the arms of Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the +mouth.” + +“Yes, Dorian, I suppose you were right,” said Hallward slowly. + +“Have you seen her to-day?” asked Lord Henry. + +Dorian Gray shook his head. “I left her in the forest of Arden; I shall +find her in an orchard in Verona.” + +Lord Henry sipped his champagne in a meditative manner. “At what +particular point did you mention the word marriage, Dorian? And what +did she say in answer? Perhaps you forgot all about it.” + +“My dear Harry, I did not treat it as a business transaction, and I did +not make any formal proposal. I told her that I loved her, and she said +she was not worthy to be my wife. Not worthy! Why, the whole world is +nothing to me compared with her.” + +“Women are wonderfully practical,” murmured Lord Henry, “much more +practical than we are. In situations of that kind we often forget to +say anything about marriage, and they always remind us.” + +Hallward laid his hand upon his arm. “Don’t, Harry. You have annoyed +Dorian. He is not like other men. He would never bring misery upon any +one. His nature is too fine for that.” + +Lord Henry looked across the table. “Dorian is never annoyed with me,” +he answered. “I asked the question for the best reason possible, for +the only reason, indeed, that excuses one for asking any +question—simple curiosity. I have a theory that it is always the women +who propose to us, and not we who propose to the women. Except, of +course, in middle-class life. But then the middle classes are not +modern.” + +Dorian Gray laughed, and tossed his head. “You are quite incorrigible, +Harry; but I don’t mind. It is impossible to be angry with you. When +you see Sibyl Vane, you will feel that the man who could wrong her +would be a beast, a beast without a heart. I cannot understand how any +one can wish to shame the thing he loves. I love Sibyl Vane. I want to +place her on a pedestal of gold and to see the world worship the woman +who is mine. What is marriage? An irrevocable vow. You mock at it for +that. Ah! don’t mock. It is an irrevocable vow that I want to take. Her +trust makes me faithful, her belief makes me good. When I am with her, +I regret all that you have taught me. I become different from what you +have known me to be. I am changed, and the mere touch of Sibyl Vane’s +hand makes me forget you and all your wrong, fascinating, poisonous, +delightful theories.” + +“And those are ...?” asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad. + +“Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories +about pleasure. All your theories, in fact, Harry.” + +“Pleasure is the only thing worth having a theory about,” he answered +in his slow melodious voice. “But I am afraid I cannot claim my theory +as my own. It belongs to Nature, not to me. Pleasure is Nature’s test, +her sign of approval. When we are happy, we are always good, but when +we are good, we are not always happy.” + +“Ah! but what do you mean by good?” cried Basil Hallward. + +“Yes,” echoed Dorian, leaning back in his chair and looking at Lord +Henry over the heavy clusters of purple-lipped irises that stood in the +centre of the table, “what do you mean by good, Harry?” + +“To be good is to be in harmony with one’s self,” he replied, touching +the thin stem of his glass with his pale, fine-pointed fingers. +“Discord is to be forced to be in harmony with others. One’s own +life—that is the important thing. As for the lives of one’s neighbours, +if one wishes to be a prig or a Puritan, one can flaunt one’s moral +views about them, but they are not one’s concern. Besides, +individualism has really the higher aim. Modern morality consists in +accepting the standard of one’s age. I consider that for any man of +culture to accept the standard of his age is a form of the grossest +immorality.” + +“But, surely, if one lives merely for one’s self, Harry, one pays a +terrible price for doing so?” suggested the painter. + +“Yes, we are overcharged for everything nowadays. I should fancy that +the real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but +self-denial. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege +of the rich.” + +“One has to pay in other ways but money.” + +“What sort of ways, Basil?” + +“Oh! I should fancy in remorse, in suffering, in ... well, in the +consciousness of degradation.” + +Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “My dear fellow, mediæval art is +charming, but mediæval emotions are out of date. One can use them in +fiction, of course. But then the only things that one can use in +fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact. Believe me, +no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever +knows what a pleasure is.” + +“I know what pleasure is,” cried Dorian Gray. “It is to adore some +one.” + +“That is certainly better than being adored,” he answered, toying with +some fruits. “Being adored is a nuisance. Women treat us just as +humanity treats its gods. They worship us, and are always bothering us +to do something for them.” + +“I should have said that whatever they ask for they had first given to +us,” murmured the lad gravely. “They create love in our natures. They +have a right to demand it back.” + +“That is quite true, Dorian,” cried Hallward. + +“Nothing is ever quite true,” said Lord Henry. + +“This is,” interrupted Dorian. “You must admit, Harry, that women give +to men the very gold of their lives.” + +“Possibly,” he sighed, “but they invariably want it back in such very +small change. That is the worry. Women, as some witty Frenchman once +put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces and always +prevent us from carrying them out.” + +“Harry, you are dreadful! I don’t know why I like you so much.” + +“You will always like me, Dorian,” he replied. “Will you have some +coffee, you fellows? Waiter, bring coffee, and _fine-champagne_, and +some cigarettes. No, don’t mind the cigarettes—I have some. Basil, I +can’t allow you to smoke cigars. You must have a cigarette. A cigarette +is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it +leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want? Yes, Dorian, you will +always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never +had the courage to commit.” + +“What nonsense you talk, Harry!” cried the lad, taking a light from a +fire-breathing silver dragon that the waiter had placed on the table. +“Let us go down to the theatre. When Sibyl comes on the stage you will +have a new ideal of life. She will represent something to you that you +have never known.” + +“I have known everything,” said Lord Henry, with a tired look in his +eyes, “but I am always ready for a new emotion. I am afraid, however, +that, for me at any rate, there is no such thing. Still, your wonderful +girl may thrill me. I love acting. It is so much more real than life. +Let us go. Dorian, you will come with me. I am so sorry, Basil, but +there is only room for two in the brougham. You must follow us in a +hansom.” + +They got up and put on their coats, sipping their coffee standing. The +painter was silent and preoccupied. There was a gloom over him. He +could not bear this marriage, and yet it seemed to him to be better +than many other things that might have happened. After a few minutes, +they all passed downstairs. He drove off by himself, as had been +arranged, and watched the flashing lights of the little brougham in +front of him. A strange sense of loss came over him. He felt that +Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the +past. Life had come between them.... His eyes darkened, and the crowded +flaring streets became blurred to his eyes. When the cab drew up at the +theatre, it seemed to him that he had grown years older. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +For some reason or other, the house was crowded that night, and the fat +Jew manager who met them at the door was beaming from ear to ear with +an oily tremulous smile. He escorted them to their box with a sort of +pompous humility, waving his fat jewelled hands and talking at the top +of his voice. Dorian Gray loathed him more than ever. He felt as if he +had come to look for Miranda and had been met by Caliban. Lord Henry, +upon the other hand, rather liked him. At least he declared he did, and +insisted on shaking him by the hand and assuring him that he was proud +to meet a man who had discovered a real genius and gone bankrupt over a +poet. Hallward amused himself with watching the faces in the pit. The +heat was terribly oppressive, and the huge sunlight flamed like a +monstrous dahlia with petals of yellow fire. The youths in the gallery +had taken off their coats and waistcoats and hung them over the side. +They talked to each other across the theatre and shared their oranges +with the tawdry girls who sat beside them. Some women were laughing in +the pit. Their voices were horribly shrill and discordant. The sound of +the popping of corks came from the bar. + +“What a place to find one’s divinity in!” said Lord Henry. + +“Yes!” answered Dorian Gray. “It was here I found her, and she is +divine beyond all living things. When she acts, you will forget +everything. These common rough people, with their coarse faces and +brutal gestures, become quite different when she is on the stage. They +sit silently and watch her. They weep and laugh as she wills them to +do. She makes them as responsive as a violin. She spiritualizes them, +and one feels that they are of the same flesh and blood as one’s self.” + +“The same flesh and blood as one’s self! Oh, I hope not!” exclaimed +Lord Henry, who was scanning the occupants of the gallery through his +opera-glass. + +“Don’t pay any attention to him, Dorian,” said the painter. “I +understand what you mean, and I believe in this girl. Any one you love +must be marvellous, and any girl who has the effect you describe must +be fine and noble. To spiritualize one’s age—that is something worth +doing. If this girl can give a soul to those who have lived without +one, if she can create the sense of beauty in people whose lives have +been sordid and ugly, if she can strip them of their selfishness and +lend them tears for sorrows that are not their own, she is worthy of +all your adoration, worthy of the adoration of the world. This marriage +is quite right. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now. The +gods made Sibyl Vane for you. Without her you would have been +incomplete.” + +“Thanks, Basil,” answered Dorian Gray, pressing his hand. “I knew that +you would understand me. Harry is so cynical, he terrifies me. But here +is the orchestra. It is quite dreadful, but it only lasts for about +five minutes. Then the curtain rises, and you will see the girl to whom +I am going to give all my life, to whom I have given everything that is +good in me.” + +A quarter of an hour afterwards, amidst an extraordinary turmoil of +applause, Sibyl Vane stepped on to the stage. Yes, she was certainly +lovely to look at—one of the loveliest creatures, Lord Henry thought, +that he had ever seen. There was something of the fawn in her shy grace +and startled eyes. A faint blush, like the shadow of a rose in a mirror +of silver, came to her cheeks as she glanced at the crowded +enthusiastic house. She stepped back a few paces and her lips seemed to +tremble. Basil Hallward leaped to his feet and began to applaud. +Motionless, and as one in a dream, sat Dorian Gray, gazing at her. Lord +Henry peered through his glasses, murmuring, “Charming! charming!” + +The scene was the hall of Capulet’s house, and Romeo in his pilgrim’s +dress had entered with Mercutio and his other friends. The band, such +as it was, struck up a few bars of music, and the dance began. Through +the crowd of ungainly, shabbily dressed actors, Sibyl Vane moved like a +creature from a finer world. Her body swayed, while she danced, as a +plant sways in the water. The curves of her throat were the curves of a +white lily. Her hands seemed to be made of cool ivory. + +Yet she was curiously listless. She showed no sign of joy when her eyes +rested on Romeo. The few words she had to speak— + +Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, + Which mannerly devotion shows in this; +For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, + And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss— + + +with the brief dialogue that follows, were spoken in a thoroughly +artificial manner. The voice was exquisite, but from the point of view +of tone it was absolutely false. It was wrong in colour. It took away +all the life from the verse. It made the passion unreal. + +Dorian Gray grew pale as he watched her. He was puzzled and anxious. +Neither of his friends dared to say anything to him. She seemed to them +to be absolutely incompetent. They were horribly disappointed. + +Yet they felt that the true test of any Juliet is the balcony scene of +the second act. They waited for that. If she failed there, there was +nothing in her. + +She looked charming as she came out in the moonlight. That could not be +denied. But the staginess of her acting was unbearable, and grew worse +as she went on. Her gestures became absurdly artificial. She +overemphasized everything that she had to say. The beautiful passage— + +Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, +Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek +For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night— + + +was declaimed with the painful precision of a schoolgirl who has been +taught to recite by some second-rate professor of elocution. When she +leaned over the balcony and came to those wonderful lines— + +Although I joy in thee, +I have no joy of this contract to-night: +It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; +Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be +Ere one can say, “It lightens.” Sweet, good-night! +This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath +May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet— + + +she spoke the words as though they conveyed no meaning to her. It was +not nervousness. Indeed, so far from being nervous, she was absolutely +self-contained. It was simply bad art. She was a complete failure. + +Even the common uneducated audience of the pit and gallery lost their +interest in the play. They got restless, and began to talk loudly and +to whistle. The Jew manager, who was standing at the back of the +dress-circle, stamped and swore with rage. The only person unmoved was +the girl herself. + +When the second act was over, there came a storm of hisses, and Lord +Henry got up from his chair and put on his coat. “She is quite +beautiful, Dorian,” he said, “but she can’t act. Let us go.” + +“I am going to see the play through,” answered the lad, in a hard +bitter voice. “I am awfully sorry that I have made you waste an +evening, Harry. I apologize to you both.” + +“My dear Dorian, I should think Miss Vane was ill,” interrupted +Hallward. “We will come some other night.” + +“I wish she were ill,” he rejoined. “But she seems to me to be simply +callous and cold. She has entirely altered. Last night she was a great +artist. This evening she is merely a commonplace mediocre actress.” + +“Don’t talk like that about any one you love, Dorian. Love is a more +wonderful thing than art.” + +“They are both simply forms of imitation,” remarked Lord Henry. “But do +let us go. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. It is not good +for one’s morals to see bad acting. Besides, I don’t suppose you will +want your wife to act, so what does it matter if she plays Juliet like +a wooden doll? She is very lovely, and if she knows as little about +life as she does about acting, she will be a delightful experience. +There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people +who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing. +Good heavens, my dear boy, don’t look so tragic! The secret of +remaining young is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming. Come to +the club with Basil and myself. We will smoke cigarettes and drink to +the beauty of Sibyl Vane. She is beautiful. What more can you want?” + +“Go away, Harry,” cried the lad. “I want to be alone. Basil, you must +go. Ah! can’t you see that my heart is breaking?” The hot tears came to +his eyes. His lips trembled, and rushing to the back of the box, he +leaned up against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. + +“Let us go, Basil,” said Lord Henry with a strange tenderness in his +voice, and the two young men passed out together. + +A few moments afterwards the footlights flared up and the curtain rose +on the third act. Dorian Gray went back to his seat. He looked pale, +and proud, and indifferent. The play dragged on, and seemed +interminable. Half of the audience went out, tramping in heavy boots +and laughing. The whole thing was a _fiasco_. The last act was played +to almost empty benches. The curtain went down on a titter and some +groans. + +As soon as it was over, Dorian Gray rushed behind the scenes into the +greenroom. The girl was standing there alone, with a look of triumph on +her face. Her eyes were lit with an exquisite fire. There was a +radiance about her. Her parted lips were smiling over some secret of +their own. + +When he entered, she looked at him, and an expression of infinite joy +came over her. “How badly I acted to-night, Dorian!” she cried. + +“Horribly!” he answered, gazing at her in amazement. “Horribly! It was +dreadful. Are you ill? You have no idea what it was. You have no idea +what I suffered.” + +The girl smiled. “Dorian,” she answered, lingering over his name with +long-drawn music in her voice, as though it were sweeter than honey to +the red petals of her mouth. “Dorian, you should have understood. But +you understand now, don’t you?” + +“Understand what?” he asked, angrily. + +“Why I was so bad to-night. Why I shall always be bad. Why I shall +never act well again.” + +He shrugged his shoulders. “You are ill, I suppose. When you are ill +you shouldn’t act. You make yourself ridiculous. My friends were bored. +I was bored.” + +She seemed not to listen to him. She was transfigured with joy. An +ecstasy of happiness dominated her. + +“Dorian, Dorian,” she cried, “before I knew you, acting was the one +reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. I thought +that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the other. +The joy of Beatrice was my joy, and the sorrows of Cordelia were mine +also. I believed in everything. The common people who acted with me +seemed to me to be godlike. The painted scenes were my world. I knew +nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came—oh, my beautiful +love!—and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality +really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw through the +hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in which I had +always played. To-night, for the first time, I became conscious that +the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the moonlight in the +orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and that the words I +had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not what I wanted to +say. You had brought me something higher, something of which all art is +but a reflection. You had made me understand what love really is. My +love! My love! Prince Charming! Prince of life! I have grown sick of +shadows. You are more to me than all art can ever be. What have I to do +with the puppets of a play? When I came on to-night, I could not +understand how it was that everything had gone from me. I thought that +I was going to be wonderful. I found that I could do nothing. Suddenly +it dawned on my soul what it all meant. The knowledge was exquisite to +me. I heard them hissing, and I smiled. What could they know of love +such as ours? Take me away, Dorian—take me away with you, where we can +be quite alone. I hate the stage. I might mimic a passion that I do not +feel, but I cannot mimic one that burns me like fire. Oh, Dorian, +Dorian, you understand now what it signifies? Even if I could do it, it +would be profanation for me to play at being in love. You have made me +see that.” + +He flung himself down on the sofa and turned away his face. “You have +killed my love,” he muttered. + +She looked at him in wonder and laughed. He made no answer. She came +across to him, and with her little fingers stroked his hair. She knelt +down and pressed his hands to her lips. He drew them away, and a +shudder ran through him. + +Then he leaped up and went to the door. “Yes,” he cried, “you have +killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even +stir my curiosity. You simply produce no effect. I loved you because +you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you +realized the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the +shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and +stupid. My God! how mad I was to love you! What a fool I have been! You +are nothing to me now. I will never see you again. I will never think +of you. I will never mention your name. You don’t know what you were to +me, once. Why, once ... Oh, I can’t bear to think of it! I wish I had +never laid eyes upon you! You have spoiled the romance of my life. How +little you can know of love, if you say it mars your art! Without your +art, you are nothing. I would have made you famous, splendid, +magnificent. The world would have worshipped you, and you would have +borne my name. What are you now? A third-rate actress with a pretty +face.” + +The girl grew white, and trembled. She clenched her hands together, and +her voice seemed to catch in her throat. “You are not serious, Dorian?” +she murmured. “You are acting.” + +“Acting! I leave that to you. You do it so well,” he answered bitterly. + +She rose from her knees and, with a piteous expression of pain in her +face, came across the room to him. She put her hand upon his arm and +looked into his eyes. He thrust her back. “Don’t touch me!” he cried. + +A low moan broke from her, and she flung herself at his feet and lay +there like a trampled flower. “Dorian, Dorian, don’t leave me!” she +whispered. “I am so sorry I didn’t act well. I was thinking of you all +the time. But I will try—indeed, I will try. It came so suddenly across +me, my love for you. I think I should never have known it if you had +not kissed me—if we had not kissed each other. Kiss me again, my love. +Don’t go away from me. I couldn’t bear it. Oh! don’t go away from me. +My brother ... No; never mind. He didn’t mean it. He was in jest.... +But you, oh! can’t you forgive me for to-night? I will work so hard and +try to improve. Don’t be cruel to me, because I love you better than +anything in the world. After all, it is only once that I have not +pleased you. But you are quite right, Dorian. I should have shown +myself more of an artist. It was foolish of me, and yet I couldn’t help +it. Oh, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.” A fit of passionate sobbing +choked her. She crouched on the floor like a wounded thing, and Dorian +Gray, with his beautiful eyes, looked down at her, and his chiselled +lips curled in exquisite disdain. There is always something ridiculous +about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. Sibyl Vane +seemed to him to be absurdly melodramatic. Her tears and sobs annoyed +him. + +“I am going,” he said at last in his calm clear voice. “I don’t wish to +be unkind, but I can’t see you again. You have disappointed me.” + +She wept silently, and made no answer, but crept nearer. Her little +hands stretched blindly out, and appeared to be seeking for him. He +turned on his heel and left the room. In a few moments he was out of +the theatre. + +Where he went to he hardly knew. He remembered wandering through dimly +lit streets, past gaunt, black-shadowed archways and evil-looking +houses. Women with hoarse voices and harsh laughter had called after +him. Drunkards had reeled by, cursing and chattering to themselves like +monstrous apes. He had seen grotesque children huddled upon door-steps, +and heard shrieks and oaths from gloomy courts. + +As the dawn was just breaking, he found himself close to Covent Garden. +The darkness lifted, and, flushed with faint fires, the sky hollowed +itself into a perfect pearl. Huge carts filled with nodding lilies +rumbled slowly down the polished empty street. The air was heavy with +the perfume of the flowers, and their beauty seemed to bring him an +anodyne for his pain. He followed into the market and watched the men +unloading their waggons. A white-smocked carter offered him some +cherries. He thanked him, wondered why he refused to accept any money +for them, and began to eat them listlessly. They had been plucked at +midnight, and the coldness of the moon had entered into them. A long +line of boys carrying crates of striped tulips, and of yellow and red +roses, defiled in front of him, threading their way through the huge, +jade-green piles of vegetables. Under the portico, with its grey, +sun-bleached pillars, loitered a troop of draggled bareheaded girls, +waiting for the auction to be over. Others crowded round the swinging +doors of the coffee-house in the piazza. The heavy cart-horses slipped +and stamped upon the rough stones, shaking their bells and trappings. +Some of the drivers were lying asleep on a pile of sacks. Iris-necked +and pink-footed, the pigeons ran about picking up seeds. + +After a little while, he hailed a hansom and drove home. For a few +moments he loitered upon the doorstep, looking round at the silent +square, with its blank, close-shuttered windows and its staring blinds. +The sky was pure opal now, and the roofs of the houses glistened like +silver against it. From some chimney opposite a thin wreath of smoke +was rising. It curled, a violet riband, through the nacre-coloured air. + +In the huge gilt Venetian lantern, spoil of some Doge’s barge, that +hung from the ceiling of the great, oak-panelled hall of entrance, +lights were still burning from three flickering jets: thin blue petals +of flame they seemed, rimmed with white fire. He turned them out and, +having thrown his hat and cape on the table, passed through the library +towards the door of his bedroom, a large octagonal chamber on the +ground floor that, in his new-born feeling for luxury, he had just had +decorated for himself and hung with some curious Renaissance tapestries +that had been discovered stored in a disused attic at Selby Royal. As +he was turning the handle of the door, his eye fell upon the portrait +Basil Hallward had painted of him. He started back as if in surprise. +Then he went on into his own room, looking somewhat puzzled. After he +had taken the button-hole out of his coat, he seemed to hesitate. +Finally, he came back, went over to the picture, and examined it. In +the dim arrested light that struggled through the cream-coloured silk +blinds, the face appeared to him to be a little changed. The expression +looked different. One would have said that there was a touch of cruelty +in the mouth. It was certainly strange. + +He turned round and, walking to the window, drew up the blind. The +bright dawn flooded the room and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky +corners, where they lay shuddering. But the strange expression that he +had noticed in the face of the portrait seemed to linger there, to be +more intensified even. The quivering ardent sunlight showed him the +lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking +into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing. + +He winced and, taking up from the table an oval glass framed in ivory +Cupids, one of Lord Henry’s many presents to him, glanced hurriedly +into its polished depths. No line like that warped his red lips. What +did it mean? + +He rubbed his eyes, and came close to the picture, and examined it +again. There were no signs of any change when he looked into the actual +painting, and yet there was no doubt that the whole expression had +altered. It was not a mere fancy of his own. The thing was horribly +apparent. + +He threw himself into a chair and began to think. Suddenly there +flashed across his mind what he had said in Basil Hallward’s studio the +day the picture had been finished. Yes, he remembered it perfectly. He +had uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young, and the +portrait grow old; that his own beauty might be untarnished, and the +face on the canvas bear the burden of his passions and his sins; that +the painted image might be seared with the lines of suffering and +thought, and that he might keep all the delicate bloom and loveliness +of his then just conscious boyhood. Surely his wish had not been +fulfilled? Such things were impossible. It seemed monstrous even to +think of them. And, yet, there was the picture before him, with the +touch of cruelty in the mouth. + +Cruelty! Had he been cruel? It was the girl’s fault, not his. He had +dreamed of her as a great artist, had given his love to her because he +had thought her great. Then she had disappointed him. She had been +shallow and unworthy. And, yet, a feeling of infinite regret came over +him, as he thought of her lying at his feet sobbing like a little +child. He remembered with what callousness he had watched her. Why had +he been made like that? Why had such a soul been given to him? But he +had suffered also. During the three terrible hours that the play had +lasted, he had lived centuries of pain, aeon upon aeon of torture. His +life was well worth hers. She had marred him for a moment, if he had +wounded her for an age. Besides, women were better suited to bear +sorrow than men. They lived on their emotions. They only thought of +their emotions. When they took lovers, it was merely to have some one +with whom they could have scenes. Lord Henry had told him that, and +Lord Henry knew what women were. Why should he trouble about Sibyl +Vane? She was nothing to him now. + +But the picture? What was he to say of that? It held the secret of his +life, and told his story. It had taught him to love his own beauty. +Would it teach him to loathe his own soul? Would he ever look at it +again? + +No; it was merely an illusion wrought on the troubled senses. The +horrible night that he had passed had left phantoms behind it. Suddenly +there had fallen upon his brain that tiny scarlet speck that makes men +mad. The picture had not changed. It was folly to think so. + +Yet it was watching him, with its beautiful marred face and its cruel +smile. Its bright hair gleamed in the early sunlight. Its blue eyes met +his own. A sense of infinite pity, not for himself, but for the painted +image of himself, came over him. It had altered already, and would +alter more. Its gold would wither into grey. Its red and white roses +would die. For every sin that he committed, a stain would fleck and +wreck its fairness. But he would not sin. The picture, changed or +unchanged, would be to him the visible emblem of conscience. He would +resist temptation. He would not see Lord Henry any more—would not, at +any rate, listen to those subtle poisonous theories that in Basil +Hallward’s garden had first stirred within him the passion for +impossible things. He would go back to Sibyl Vane, make her amends, +marry her, try to love her again. Yes, it was his duty to do so. She +must have suffered more than he had. Poor child! He had been selfish +and cruel to her. The fascination that she had exercised over him would +return. They would be happy together. His life with her would be +beautiful and pure. + +He got up from his chair and drew a large screen right in front of the +portrait, shuddering as he glanced at it. “How horrible!” he murmured +to himself, and he walked across to the window and opened it. When he +stepped out on to the grass, he drew a deep breath. The fresh morning +air seemed to drive away all his sombre passions. He thought only of +Sibyl. A faint echo of his love came back to him. He repeated her name +over and over again. The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched +garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +It was long past noon when he awoke. His valet had crept several times +on tiptoe into the room to see if he was stirring, and had wondered +what made his young master sleep so late. Finally his bell sounded, and +Victor came in softly with a cup of tea, and a pile of letters, on a +small tray of old Sevres china, and drew back the olive-satin curtains, +with their shimmering blue lining, that hung in front of the three tall +windows. + +“Monsieur has well slept this morning,” he said, smiling. + +“What o’clock is it, Victor?” asked Dorian Gray drowsily. + +“One hour and a quarter, Monsieur.” + +How late it was! He sat up, and having sipped some tea, turned over his +letters. One of them was from Lord Henry, and had been brought by hand +that morning. He hesitated for a moment, and then put it aside. The +others he opened listlessly. They contained the usual collection of +cards, invitations to dinner, tickets for private views, programmes of +charity concerts, and the like that are showered on fashionable young +men every morning during the season. There was a rather heavy bill for +a chased silver Louis-Quinze toilet-set that he had not yet had the +courage to send on to his guardians, who were extremely old-fashioned +people and did not realize that we live in an age when unnecessary +things are our only necessities; and there were several very +courteously worded communications from Jermyn Street money-lenders +offering to advance any sum of money at a moment’s notice and at the +most reasonable rates of interest. + +After about ten minutes he got up, and throwing on an elaborate +dressing-gown of silk-embroidered cashmere wool, passed into the +onyx-paved bathroom. The cool water refreshed him after his long sleep. +He seemed to have forgotten all that he had gone through. A dim sense +of having taken part in some strange tragedy came to him once or twice, +but there was the unreality of a dream about it. + +As soon as he was dressed, he went into the library and sat down to a +light French breakfast that had been laid out for him on a small round +table close to the open window. It was an exquisite day. The warm air +seemed laden with spices. A bee flew in and buzzed round the +blue-dragon bowl that, filled with sulphur-yellow roses, stood before +him. He felt perfectly happy. + +Suddenly his eye fell on the screen that he had placed in front of the +portrait, and he started. + +“Too cold for Monsieur?” asked his valet, putting an omelette on the +table. “I shut the window?” + +Dorian shook his head. “I am not cold,” he murmured. + +Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply +his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there +had been a look of joy? Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The +thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It +would make him smile. + +And, yet, how vivid was his recollection of the whole thing! First in +the dim twilight, and then in the bright dawn, he had seen the touch of +cruelty round the warped lips. He almost dreaded his valet leaving the +room. He knew that when he was alone he would have to examine the +portrait. He was afraid of certainty. When the coffee and cigarettes +had been brought and the man turned to go, he felt a wild desire to +tell him to remain. As the door was closing behind him, he called him +back. The man stood waiting for his orders. Dorian looked at him for a +moment. “I am not at home to any one, Victor,” he said with a sigh. The +man bowed and retired. + +Then he rose from the table, lit a cigarette, and flung himself down on +a luxuriously cushioned couch that stood facing the screen. The screen +was an old one, of gilt Spanish leather, stamped and wrought with a +rather florid Louis-Quatorze pattern. He scanned it curiously, +wondering if ever before it had concealed the secret of a man’s life. + +Should he move it aside, after all? Why not let it stay there? What was +the use of knowing? If the thing was true, it was terrible. If it was +not true, why trouble about it? But what if, by some fate or deadlier +chance, eyes other than his spied behind and saw the horrible change? +What should he do if Basil Hallward came and asked to look at his own +picture? Basil would be sure to do that. No; the thing had to be +examined, and at once. Anything would be better than this dreadful +state of doubt. + +He got up and locked both doors. At least he would be alone when he +looked upon the mask of his shame. Then he drew the screen aside and +saw himself face to face. It was perfectly true. The portrait had +altered. + +As he often remembered afterwards, and always with no small wonder, he +found himself at first gazing at the portrait with a feeling of almost +scientific interest. That such a change should have taken place was +incredible to him. And yet it was a fact. Was there some subtle +affinity between the chemical atoms that shaped themselves into form +and colour on the canvas and the soul that was within him? Could it be +that what that soul thought, they realized?—that what it dreamed, they +made true? Or was there some other, more terrible reason? He shuddered, +and felt afraid, and, going back to the couch, lay there, gazing at the +picture in sickened horror. + +One thing, however, he felt that it had done for him. It had made him +conscious how unjust, how cruel, he had been to Sibyl Vane. It was not +too late to make reparation for that. She could still be his wife. His +unreal and selfish love would yield to some higher influence, would be +transformed into some nobler passion, and the portrait that Basil +Hallward had painted of him would be a guide to him through life, would +be to him what holiness is to some, and conscience to others, and the +fear of God to us all. There were opiates for remorse, drugs that could +lull the moral sense to sleep. But here was a visible symbol of the +degradation of sin. Here was an ever-present sign of the ruin men +brought upon their souls. + +Three o’clock struck, and four, and the half-hour rang its double +chime, but Dorian Gray did not stir. He was trying to gather up the +scarlet threads of life and to weave them into a pattern; to find his +way through the sanguine labyrinth of passion through which he was +wandering. He did not know what to do, or what to think. Finally, he +went over to the table and wrote a passionate letter to the girl he had +loved, imploring her forgiveness and accusing himself of madness. He +covered page after page with wild words of sorrow and wilder words of +pain. There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we +feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, +not the priest, that gives us absolution. When Dorian had finished the +letter, he felt that he had been forgiven. + +Suddenly there came a knock to the door, and he heard Lord Henry’s +voice outside. “My dear boy, I must see you. Let me in at once. I can’t +bear your shutting yourself up like this.” + +He made no answer at first, but remained quite still. The knocking +still continued and grew louder. Yes, it was better to let Lord Henry +in, and to explain to him the new life he was going to lead, to quarrel +with him if it became necessary to quarrel, to part if parting was +inevitable. He jumped up, drew the screen hastily across the picture, +and unlocked the door. + +“I am so sorry for it all, Dorian,” said Lord Henry as he entered. “But +you must not think too much about it.” + +“Do you mean about Sibyl Vane?” asked the lad. + +“Yes, of course,” answered Lord Henry, sinking into a chair and slowly +pulling off his yellow gloves. “It is dreadful, from one point of view, +but it was not your fault. Tell me, did you go behind and see her, +after the play was over?” + +“Yes.” + +“I felt sure you had. Did you make a scene with her?” + +“I was brutal, Harry—perfectly brutal. But it is all right now. I am +not sorry for anything that has happened. It has taught me to know +myself better.” + +“Ah, Dorian, I am so glad you take it in that way! I was afraid I would +find you plunged in remorse and tearing that nice curly hair of yours.” + +“I have got through all that,” said Dorian, shaking his head and +smiling. “I am perfectly happy now. I know what conscience is, to begin +with. It is not what you told me it was. It is the divinest thing in +us. Don’t sneer at it, Harry, any more—at least not before me. I want +to be good. I can’t bear the idea of my soul being hideous.” + +“A very charming artistic basis for ethics, Dorian! I congratulate you +on it. But how are you going to begin?” + +“By marrying Sibyl Vane.” + +“Marrying Sibyl Vane!” cried Lord Henry, standing up and looking at him +in perplexed amazement. “But, my dear Dorian—” + +“Yes, Harry, I know what you are going to say. Something dreadful about +marriage. Don’t say it. Don’t ever say things of that kind to me again. +Two days ago I asked Sibyl to marry me. I am not going to break my word +to her. She is to be my wife.” + +“Your wife! Dorian! ... Didn’t you get my letter? I wrote to you this +morning, and sent the note down by my own man.” + +“Your letter? Oh, yes, I remember. I have not read it yet, Harry. I was +afraid there might be something in it that I wouldn’t like. You cut +life to pieces with your epigrams.” + +“You know nothing then?” + +“What do you mean?” + +Lord Henry walked across the room, and sitting down by Dorian Gray, +took both his hands in his own and held them tightly. “Dorian,” he +said, “my letter—don’t be frightened—was to tell you that Sibyl Vane is +dead.” + +A cry of pain broke from the lad’s lips, and he leaped to his feet, +tearing his hands away from Lord Henry’s grasp. “Dead! Sibyl dead! It +is not true! It is a horrible lie! How dare you say it?” + +“It is quite true, Dorian,” said Lord Henry, gravely. “It is in all the +morning papers. I wrote down to you to ask you not to see any one till +I came. There will have to be an inquest, of course, and you must not +be mixed up in it. Things like that make a man fashionable in Paris. +But in London people are so prejudiced. Here, one should never make +one’s _début_ with a scandal. One should reserve that to give an +interest to one’s old age. I suppose they don’t know your name at the +theatre? If they don’t, it is all right. Did any one see you going +round to her room? That is an important point.” + +Dorian did not answer for a few moments. He was dazed with horror. +Finally he stammered, in a stifled voice, “Harry, did you say an +inquest? What did you mean by that? Did Sibyl—? Oh, Harry, I can’t bear +it! But be quick. Tell me everything at once.” + +“I have no doubt it was not an accident, Dorian, though it must be put +in that way to the public. It seems that as she was leaving the theatre +with her mother, about half-past twelve or so, she said she had +forgotten something upstairs. They waited some time for her, but she +did not come down again. They ultimately found her lying dead on the +floor of her dressing-room. She had swallowed something by mistake, +some dreadful thing they use at theatres. I don’t know what it was, but +it had either prussic acid or white lead in it. I should fancy it was +prussic acid, as she seems to have died instantaneously.” + +“Harry, Harry, it is terrible!” cried the lad. + +“Yes; it is very tragic, of course, but you must not get yourself mixed +up in it. I see by _The Standard_ that she was seventeen. I should have +thought she was almost younger than that. She looked such a child, and +seemed to know so little about acting. Dorian, you mustn’t let this +thing get on your nerves. You must come and dine with me, and +afterwards we will look in at the opera. It is a Patti night, and +everybody will be there. You can come to my sister’s box. She has got +some smart women with her.” + +“So I have murdered Sibyl Vane,” said Dorian Gray, half to himself, +“murdered her as surely as if I had cut her little throat with a knife. +Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that. The birds sing just as +happily in my garden. And to-night I am to dine with you, and then go +on to the opera, and sup somewhere, I suppose, afterwards. How +extraordinarily dramatic life is! If I had read all this in a book, +Harry, I think I would have wept over it. Somehow, now that it has +happened actually, and to me, it seems far too wonderful for tears. +Here is the first passionate love-letter I have ever written in my +life. Strange, that my first passionate love-letter should have been +addressed to a dead girl. Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent +people we call the dead? Sibyl! Can she feel, or know, or listen? Oh, +Harry, how I loved her once! It seems years ago to me now. She was +everything to me. Then came that dreadful night—was it really only last +night?—when she played so badly, and my heart almost broke. She +explained it all to me. It was terribly pathetic. But I was not moved a +bit. I thought her shallow. Suddenly something happened that made me +afraid. I can’t tell you what it was, but it was terrible. I said I +would go back to her. I felt I had done wrong. And now she is dead. My +God! My God! Harry, what shall I do? You don’t know the danger I am in, +and there is nothing to keep me straight. She would have done that for +me. She had no right to kill herself. It was selfish of her.” + +“My dear Dorian,” answered Lord Henry, taking a cigarette from his case +and producing a gold-latten matchbox, “the only way a woman can ever +reform a man is by boring him so completely that he loses all possible +interest in life. If you had married this girl, you would have been +wretched. Of course, you would have treated her kindly. One can always +be kind to people about whom one cares nothing. But she would have soon +found out that you were absolutely indifferent to her. And when a woman +finds that out about her husband, she either becomes dreadfully dowdy, +or wears very smart bonnets that some other woman’s husband has to pay +for. I say nothing about the social mistake, which would have been +abject—which, of course, I would not have allowed—but I assure you that +in any case the whole thing would have been an absolute failure.” + +“I suppose it would,” muttered the lad, walking up and down the room +and looking horribly pale. “But I thought it was my duty. It is not my +fault that this terrible tragedy has prevented my doing what was right. +I remember your saying once that there is a fatality about good +resolutions—that they are always made too late. Mine certainly were.” + +“Good resolutions are useless attempts to interfere with scientific +laws. Their origin is pure vanity. Their result is absolutely _nil_. +They give us, now and then, some of those luxurious sterile emotions +that have a certain charm for the weak. That is all that can be said +for them. They are simply cheques that men draw on a bank where they +have no account.” + +“Harry,” cried Dorian Gray, coming over and sitting down beside him, +“why is it that I cannot feel this tragedy as much as I want to? I +don’t think I am heartless. Do you?” + +“You have done too many foolish things during the last fortnight to be +entitled to give yourself that name, Dorian,” answered Lord Henry with +his sweet melancholy smile. + +The lad frowned. “I don’t like that explanation, Harry,” he rejoined, +“but I am glad you don’t think I am heartless. I am nothing of the +kind. I know I am not. And yet I must admit that this thing that has +happened does not affect me as it should. It seems to me to be simply +like a wonderful ending to a wonderful play. It has all the terrible +beauty of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which I took a great part, but +by which I have not been wounded.” + +“It is an interesting question,” said Lord Henry, who found an +exquisite pleasure in playing on the lad’s unconscious egotism, “an +extremely interesting question. I fancy that the true explanation is +this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an +inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their +absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack +of style. They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an +impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, +however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses +our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply +appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are +no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are +both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle +enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that has really happened? +Some one has killed herself for love of you. I wish that I had ever had +such an experience. It would have made me in love with love for the +rest of my life. The people who have adored me—there have not been very +many, but there have been some—have always insisted on living on, long +after I had ceased to care for them, or they to care for me. They have +become stout and tedious, and when I meet them, they go in at once for +reminiscences. That awful memory of woman! What a fearful thing it is! +And what an utter intellectual stagnation it reveals! One should absorb +the colour of life, but one should never remember its details. Details +are always vulgar.” + +“I must sow poppies in my garden,” sighed Dorian. + +“There is no necessity,” rejoined his companion. “Life has always +poppies in her hands. Of course, now and then things linger. I once +wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic +mourning for a romance that would not die. Ultimately, however, it did +die. I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to sacrifice +the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. It fills one +with the terror of eternity. Well—would you believe it?—a week ago, at +Lady Hampshire’s, I found myself seated at dinner next the lady in +question, and she insisted on going over the whole thing again, and +digging up the past, and raking up the future. I had buried my romance +in a bed of asphodel. She dragged it out again and assured me that I +had spoiled her life. I am bound to state that she ate an enormous +dinner, so I did not feel any anxiety. But what a lack of taste she +showed! The one charm of the past is that it is the past. But women +never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, +and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose +to continue it. If they were allowed their own way, every comedy would +have a tragic ending, and every tragedy would culminate in a farce. +They are charmingly artificial, but they have no sense of art. You are +more fortunate than I am. I assure you, Dorian, that not one of the +women I have known would have done for me what Sibyl Vane did for you. +Ordinary women always console themselves. Some of them do it by going +in for sentimental colours. Never trust a woman who wears mauve, +whatever her age may be, or a woman over thirty-five who is fond of +pink ribbons. It always means that they have a history. Others find a +great consolation in suddenly discovering the good qualities of their +husbands. They flaunt their conjugal felicity in one’s face, as if it +were the most fascinating of sins. Religion consoles some. Its +mysteries have all the charm of a flirtation, a woman once told me, and +I can quite understand it. Besides, nothing makes one so vain as being +told that one is a sinner. Conscience makes egotists of us all. Yes; +there is really no end to the consolations that women find in modern +life. Indeed, I have not mentioned the most important one.” + +“What is that, Harry?” said the lad listlessly. + +“Oh, the obvious consolation. Taking some one else’s admirer when one +loses one’s own. In good society that always whitewashes a woman. But +really, Dorian, how different Sibyl Vane must have been from all the +women one meets! There is something to me quite beautiful about her +death. I am glad I am living in a century when such wonders happen. +They make one believe in the reality of the things we all play with, +such as romance, passion, and love.” + +“I was terribly cruel to her. You forget that.” + +“I am afraid that women appreciate cruelty, downright cruelty, more +than anything else. They have wonderfully primitive instincts. We have +emancipated them, but they remain slaves looking for their masters, all +the same. They love being dominated. I am sure you were splendid. I +have never seen you really and absolutely angry, but I can fancy how +delightful you looked. And, after all, you said something to me the day +before yesterday that seemed to me at the time to be merely fanciful, +but that I see now was absolutely true, and it holds the key to +everything.” + +“What was that, Harry?” + +“You said to me that Sibyl Vane represented to you all the heroines of +romance—that she was Desdemona one night, and Ophelia the other; that +if she died as Juliet, she came to life as Imogen.” + +“She will never come to life again now,” muttered the lad, burying his +face in his hands. + +“No, she will never come to life. She has played her last part. But you +must think of that lonely death in the tawdry dressing-room simply as a +strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy, as a wonderful scene +from Webster, or Ford, or Cyril Tourneur. The girl never really lived, +and so she has never really died. To you at least she was always a +dream, a phantom that flitted through Shakespeare’s plays and left them +lovelier for its presence, a reed through which Shakespeare’s music +sounded richer and more full of joy. The moment she touched actual +life, she marred it, and it marred her, and so she passed away. Mourn +for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was +strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio +died. But don’t waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was less real +than they are.” + +There was a silence. The evening darkened in the room. Noiselessly, and +with silver feet, the shadows crept in from the garden. The colours +faded wearily out of things. + +After some time Dorian Gray looked up. “You have explained me to +myself, Harry,” he murmured with something of a sigh of relief. “I felt +all that you have said, but somehow I was afraid of it, and I could not +express it to myself. How well you know me! But we will not talk again +of what has happened. It has been a marvellous experience. That is all. +I wonder if life has still in store for me anything as marvellous.” + +“Life has everything in store for you, Dorian. There is nothing that +you, with your extraordinary good looks, will not be able to do.” + +“But suppose, Harry, I became haggard, and old, and wrinkled? What +then?” + +“Ah, then,” said Lord Henry, rising to go, “then, my dear Dorian, you +would have to fight for your victories. As it is, they are brought to +you. No, you must keep your good looks. We live in an age that reads +too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful. We +cannot spare you. And now you had better dress and drive down to the +club. We are rather late, as it is.” + +“I think I shall join you at the opera, Harry. I feel too tired to eat +anything. What is the number of your sister’s box?” + +“Twenty-seven, I believe. It is on the grand tier. You will see her +name on the door. But I am sorry you won’t come and dine.” + +“I don’t feel up to it,” said Dorian listlessly. “But I am awfully +obliged to you for all that you have said to me. You are certainly my +best friend. No one has ever understood me as you have.” + +“We are only at the beginning of our friendship, Dorian,” answered Lord +Henry, shaking him by the hand. “Good-bye. I shall see you before +nine-thirty, I hope. Remember, Patti is singing.” + +As he closed the door behind him, Dorian Gray touched the bell, and in +a few minutes Victor appeared with the lamps and drew the blinds down. +He waited impatiently for him to go. The man seemed to take an +interminable time over everything. + +As soon as he had left, he rushed to the screen and drew it back. No; +there was no further change in the picture. It had received the news of +Sibyl Vane’s death before he had known of it himself. It was conscious +of the events of life as they occurred. The vicious cruelty that marred +the fine lines of the mouth had, no doubt, appeared at the very moment +that the girl had drunk the poison, whatever it was. Or was it +indifferent to results? Did it merely take cognizance of what passed +within the soul? He wondered, and hoped that some day he would see the +change taking place before his very eyes, shuddering as he hoped it. + +Poor Sibyl! What a romance it had all been! She had often mimicked +death on the stage. Then Death himself had touched her and taken her +with him. How had she played that dreadful last scene? Had she cursed +him, as she died? No; she had died for love of him, and love would +always be a sacrament to him now. She had atoned for everything by the +sacrifice she had made of her life. He would not think any more of what +she had made him go through, on that horrible night at the theatre. +When he thought of her, it would be as a wonderful tragic figure sent +on to the world’s stage to show the supreme reality of love. A +wonderful tragic figure? Tears came to his eyes as he remembered her +childlike look, and winsome fanciful ways, and shy tremulous grace. He +brushed them away hastily and looked again at the picture. + +He felt that the time had really come for making his choice. Or had his +choice already been made? Yes, life had decided that for him—life, and +his own infinite curiosity about life. Eternal youth, infinite passion, +pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder sins—he was to have +all these things. The portrait was to bear the burden of his shame: +that was all. + +A feeling of pain crept over him as he thought of the desecration that +was in store for the fair face on the canvas. Once, in boyish mockery +of Narcissus, he had kissed, or feigned to kiss, those painted lips +that now smiled so cruelly at him. Morning after morning he had sat +before the portrait wondering at its beauty, almost enamoured of it, as +it seemed to him at times. Was it to alter now with every mood to which +he yielded? Was it to become a monstrous and loathsome thing, to be +hidden away in a locked room, to be shut out from the sunlight that had +so often touched to brighter gold the waving wonder of its hair? The +pity of it! the pity of it! + +For a moment, he thought of praying that the horrible sympathy that +existed between him and the picture might cease. It had changed in +answer to a prayer; perhaps in answer to a prayer it might remain +unchanged. And yet, who, that knew anything about life, would surrender +the chance of remaining always young, however fantastic that chance +might be, or with what fateful consequences it might be fraught? +Besides, was it really under his control? Had it indeed been prayer +that had produced the substitution? Might there not be some curious +scientific reason for it all? If thought could exercise its influence +upon a living organism, might not thought exercise an influence upon +dead and inorganic things? Nay, without thought or conscious desire, +might not things external to ourselves vibrate in unison with our moods +and passions, atom calling to atom in secret love or strange affinity? +But the reason was of no importance. He would never again tempt by a +prayer any terrible power. If the picture was to alter, it was to +alter. That was all. Why inquire too closely into it? + +For there would be a real pleasure in watching it. He would be able to +follow his mind into its secret places. This portrait would be to him +the most magical of mirrors. As it had revealed to him his own body, so +it would reveal to him his own soul. And when winter came upon it, he +would still be standing where spring trembles on the verge of summer. +When the blood crept from its face, and left behind a pallid mask of +chalk with leaden eyes, he would keep the glamour of boyhood. Not one +blossom of his loveliness would ever fade. Not one pulse of his life +would ever weaken. Like the gods of the Greeks, he would be strong, and +fleet, and joyous. What did it matter what happened to the coloured +image on the canvas? He would be safe. That was everything. + +He drew the screen back into its former place in front of the picture, +smiling as he did so, and passed into his bedroom, where his valet was +already waiting for him. An hour later he was at the opera, and Lord +Henry was leaning over his chair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +As he was sitting at breakfast next morning, Basil Hallward was shown +into the room. + +“I am so glad I have found you, Dorian,” he said gravely. “I called +last night, and they told me you were at the opera. Of course, I knew +that was impossible. But I wish you had left word where you had really +gone to. I passed a dreadful evening, half afraid that one tragedy +might be followed by another. I think you might have telegraphed for me +when you heard of it first. I read of it quite by chance in a late +edition of _The Globe_ that I picked up at the club. I came here at +once and was miserable at not finding you. I can’t tell you how +heart-broken I am about the whole thing. I know what you must suffer. +But where were you? Did you go down and see the girl’s mother? For a +moment I thought of following you there. They gave the address in the +paper. Somewhere in the Euston Road, isn’t it? But I was afraid of +intruding upon a sorrow that I could not lighten. Poor woman! What a +state she must be in! And her only child, too! What did she say about +it all?” + +“My dear Basil, how do I know?” murmured Dorian Gray, sipping some +pale-yellow wine from a delicate, gold-beaded bubble of Venetian glass +and looking dreadfully bored. “I was at the opera. You should have come +on there. I met Lady Gwendolen, Harry’s sister, for the first time. We +were in her box. She is perfectly charming; and Patti sang divinely. +Don’t talk about horrid subjects. If one doesn’t talk about a thing, it +has never happened. It is simply expression, as Harry says, that gives +reality to things. I may mention that she was not the woman’s only +child. There is a son, a charming fellow, I believe. But he is not on +the stage. He is a sailor, or something. And now, tell me about +yourself and what you are painting.” + +“You went to the opera?” said Hallward, speaking very slowly and with a +strained touch of pain in his voice. “You went to the opera while Sibyl +Vane was lying dead in some sordid lodging? You can talk to me of other +women being charming, and of Patti singing divinely, before the girl +you loved has even the quiet of a grave to sleep in? Why, man, there +are horrors in store for that little white body of hers!” + +“Stop, Basil! I won’t hear it!” cried Dorian, leaping to his feet. “You +must not tell me about things. What is done is done. What is past is +past.” + +“You call yesterday the past?” + +“What has the actual lapse of time got to do with it? It is only +shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion. A man who is +master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a +pleasure. I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use +them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.” + +“Dorian, this is horrible! Something has changed you completely. You +look exactly the same wonderful boy who, day after day, used to come +down to my studio to sit for his picture. But you were simple, natural, +and affectionate then. You were the most unspoiled creature in the +whole world. Now, I don’t know what has come over you. You talk as if +you had no heart, no pity in you. It is all Harry’s influence. I see +that.” + +The lad flushed up and, going to the window, looked out for a few +moments on the green, flickering, sun-lashed garden. “I owe a great +deal to Harry, Basil,” he said at last, “more than I owe to you. You +only taught me to be vain.” + +“Well, I am punished for that, Dorian—or shall be some day.” + +“I don’t know what you mean, Basil,” he exclaimed, turning round. “I +don’t know what you want. What do you want?” + +“I want the Dorian Gray I used to paint,” said the artist sadly. + +“Basil,” said the lad, going over to him and putting his hand on his +shoulder, “you have come too late. Yesterday, when I heard that Sibyl +Vane had killed herself—” + +“Killed herself! Good heavens! is there no doubt about that?” cried +Hallward, looking up at him with an expression of horror. + +“My dear Basil! Surely you don’t think it was a vulgar accident? Of +course she killed herself.” + +The elder man buried his face in his hands. “How fearful,” he muttered, +and a shudder ran through him. + +“No,” said Dorian Gray, “there is nothing fearful about it. It is one +of the great romantic tragedies of the age. As a rule, people who act +lead the most commonplace lives. They are good husbands, or faithful +wives, or something tedious. You know what I mean—middle-class virtue +and all that kind of thing. How different Sibyl was! She lived her +finest tragedy. She was always a heroine. The last night she played—the +night you saw her—she acted badly because she had known the reality of +love. When she knew its unreality, she died, as Juliet might have died. +She passed again into the sphere of art. There is something of the +martyr about her. Her death has all the pathetic uselessness of +martyrdom, all its wasted beauty. But, as I was saying, you must not +think I have not suffered. If you had come in yesterday at a particular +moment—about half-past five, perhaps, or a quarter to six—you would +have found me in tears. Even Harry, who was here, who brought me the +news, in fact, had no idea what I was going through. I suffered +immensely. Then it passed away. I cannot repeat an emotion. No one can, +except sentimentalists. And you are awfully unjust, Basil. You come +down here to console me. That is charming of you. You find me consoled, +and you are furious. How like a sympathetic person! You remind me of a +story Harry told me about a certain philanthropist who spent twenty +years of his life in trying to get some grievance redressed, or some +unjust law altered—I forget exactly what it was. Finally he succeeded, +and nothing could exceed his disappointment. He had absolutely nothing +to do, almost died of _ennui_, and became a confirmed misanthrope. And +besides, my dear old Basil, if you really want to console me, teach me +rather to forget what has happened, or to see it from a proper artistic +point of view. Was it not Gautier who used to write about _la +consolation des arts_? I remember picking up a little vellum-covered +book in your studio one day and chancing on that delightful phrase. +Well, I am not like that young man you told me of when we were down at +Marlow together, the young man who used to say that yellow satin could +console one for all the miseries of life. I love beautiful things that +one can touch and handle. Old brocades, green bronzes, lacquer-work, +carved ivories, exquisite surroundings, luxury, pomp—there is much to +be got from all these. But the artistic temperament that they create, +or at any rate reveal, is still more to me. To become the spectator of +one’s own life, as Harry says, is to escape the suffering of life. I +know you are surprised at my talking to you like this. You have not +realized how I have developed. I was a schoolboy when you knew me. I am +a man now. I have new passions, new thoughts, new ideas. I am +different, but you must not like me less. I am changed, but you must +always be my friend. Of course, I am very fond of Harry. But I know +that you are better than he is. You are not stronger—you are too much +afraid of life—but you are better. And how happy we used to be +together! Don’t leave me, Basil, and don’t quarrel with me. I am what I +am. There is nothing more to be said.” + +The painter felt strangely moved. The lad was infinitely dear to him, +and his personality had been the great turning point in his art. He +could not bear the idea of reproaching him any more. After all, his +indifference was probably merely a mood that would pass away. There was +so much in him that was good, so much in him that was noble. + +“Well, Dorian,” he said at length, with a sad smile, “I won’t speak to +you again about this horrible thing, after to-day. I only trust your +name won’t be mentioned in connection with it. The inquest is to take +place this afternoon. Have they summoned you?” + +Dorian shook his head, and a look of annoyance passed over his face at +the mention of the word “inquest.” There was something so crude and +vulgar about everything of the kind. “They don’t know my name,” he +answered. + +“But surely she did?” + +“Only my Christian name, and that I am quite sure she never mentioned +to any one. She told me once that they were all rather curious to learn +who I was, and that she invariably told them my name was Prince +Charming. It was pretty of her. You must do me a drawing of Sibyl, +Basil. I should like to have something more of her than the memory of a +few kisses and some broken pathetic words.” + +“I will try and do something, Dorian, if it would please you. But you +must come and sit to me yourself again. I can’t get on without you.” + +“I can never sit to you again, Basil. It is impossible!” he exclaimed, +starting back. + +The painter stared at him. “My dear boy, what nonsense!” he cried. “Do +you mean to say you don’t like what I did of you? Where is it? Why have +you pulled the screen in front of it? Let me look at it. It is the best +thing I have ever done. Do take the screen away, Dorian. It is simply +disgraceful of your servant hiding my work like that. I felt the room +looked different as I came in.” + +“My servant has nothing to do with it, Basil. You don’t imagine I let +him arrange my room for me? He settles my flowers for me sometimes—that +is all. No; I did it myself. The light was too strong on the portrait.” + +“Too strong! Surely not, my dear fellow? It is an admirable place for +it. Let me see it.” And Hallward walked towards the corner of the room. + +A cry of terror broke from Dorian Gray’s lips, and he rushed between +the painter and the screen. “Basil,” he said, looking very pale, “you +must not look at it. I don’t wish you to.” + +“Not look at my own work! You are not serious. Why shouldn’t I look at +it?” exclaimed Hallward, laughing. + +“If you try to look at it, Basil, on my word of honour I will never +speak to you again as long as I live. I am quite serious. I don’t offer +any explanation, and you are not to ask for any. But, remember, if you +touch this screen, everything is over between us.” + +Hallward was thunderstruck. He looked at Dorian Gray in absolute +amazement. He had never seen him like this before. The lad was actually +pallid with rage. His hands were clenched, and the pupils of his eyes +were like disks of blue fire. He was trembling all over. + +“Dorian!” + +“Don’t speak!” + +“But what is the matter? Of course I won’t look at it if you don’t want +me to,” he said, rather coldly, turning on his heel and going over +towards the window. “But, really, it seems rather absurd that I +shouldn’t see my own work, especially as I am going to exhibit it in +Paris in the autumn. I shall probably have to give it another coat of +varnish before that, so I must see it some day, and why not to-day?” + +“To exhibit it! You want to exhibit it?” exclaimed Dorian Gray, a +strange sense of terror creeping over him. Was the world going to be +shown his secret? Were people to gape at the mystery of his life? That +was impossible. Something—he did not know what—had to be done at once. + +“Yes; I don’t suppose you will object to that. Georges Petit is going +to collect all my best pictures for a special exhibition in the Rue de +Sèze, which will open the first week in October. The portrait will only +be away a month. I should think you could easily spare it for that +time. In fact, you are sure to be out of town. And if you keep it +always behind a screen, you can’t care much about it.” + +Dorian Gray passed his hand over his forehead. There were beads of +perspiration there. He felt that he was on the brink of a horrible +danger. “You told me a month ago that you would never exhibit it,” he +cried. “Why have you changed your mind? You people who go in for being +consistent have just as many moods as others have. The only difference +is that your moods are rather meaningless. You can’t have forgotten +that you assured me most solemnly that nothing in the world would +induce you to send it to any exhibition. You told Harry exactly the +same thing.” He stopped suddenly, and a gleam of light came into his +eyes. He remembered that Lord Henry had said to him once, half +seriously and half in jest, “If you want to have a strange quarter of +an hour, get Basil to tell you why he won’t exhibit your picture. He +told me why he wouldn’t, and it was a revelation to me.” Yes, perhaps +Basil, too, had his secret. He would ask him and try. + +“Basil,” he said, coming over quite close and looking him straight in +the face, “we have each of us a secret. Let me know yours, and I shall +tell you mine. What was your reason for refusing to exhibit my +picture?” + +The painter shuddered in spite of himself. “Dorian, if I told you, you +might like me less than you do, and you would certainly laugh at me. I +could not bear your doing either of those two things. If you wish me +never to look at your picture again, I am content. I have always you to +look at. If you wish the best work I have ever done to be hidden from +the world, I am satisfied. Your friendship is dearer to me than any +fame or reputation.” + +“No, Basil, you must tell me,” insisted Dorian Gray. “I think I have a +right to know.” His feeling of terror had passed away, and curiosity +had taken its place. He was determined to find out Basil Hallward’s +mystery. + +“Let us sit down, Dorian,” said the painter, looking troubled. “Let us +sit down. And just answer me one question. Have you noticed in the +picture something curious?—something that probably at first did not +strike you, but that revealed itself to you suddenly?” + +“Basil!” cried the lad, clutching the arms of his chair with trembling +hands and gazing at him with wild startled eyes. + +“I see you did. Don’t speak. Wait till you hear what I have to say. +Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality had the most +extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and +power, by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen +ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I +worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted +to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you. When +you were away from me, you were still present in my art.... Of course, +I never let you know anything about this. It would have been +impossible. You would not have understood it. I hardly understood it +myself. I only knew that I had seen perfection face to face, and that +the world had become wonderful to my eyes—too wonderful, perhaps, for +in such mad worships there is peril, the peril of losing them, no less +than the peril of keeping them.... Weeks and weeks went on, and I grew +more and more absorbed in you. Then came a new development. I had drawn +you as Paris in dainty armour, and as Adonis with huntsman’s cloak and +polished boar-spear. Crowned with heavy lotus-blossoms you had sat on +the prow of Adrian’s barge, gazing across the green turbid Nile. You +had leaned over the still pool of some Greek woodland and seen in the +water’s silent silver the marvel of your own face. And it had all been +what art should be—unconscious, ideal, and remote. One day, a fatal day +I sometimes think, I determined to paint a wonderful portrait of you as +you actually are, not in the costume of dead ages, but in your own +dress and in your own time. Whether it was the realism of the method, +or the mere wonder of your own personality, thus directly presented to +me without mist or veil, I cannot tell. But I know that as I worked at +it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. I +grew afraid that others would know of my idolatry. I felt, Dorian, that +I had told too much, that I had put too much of myself into it. Then it +was that I resolved never to allow the picture to be exhibited. You +were a little annoyed; but then you did not realize all that it meant +to me. Harry, to whom I talked about it, laughed at me. But I did not +mind that. When the picture was finished, and I sat alone with it, I +felt that I was right.... Well, after a few days the thing left my +studio, and as soon as I had got rid of the intolerable fascination of +its presence, it seemed to me that I had been foolish in imagining that +I had seen anything in it, more than that you were extremely +good-looking and that I could paint. Even now I cannot help feeling +that it is a mistake to think that the passion one feels in creation is +ever really shown in the work one creates. Art is always more abstract +than we fancy. Form and colour tell us of form and colour—that is all. +It often seems to me that art conceals the artist far more completely +than it ever reveals him. And so when I got this offer from Paris, I +determined to make your portrait the principal thing in my exhibition. +It never occurred to me that you would refuse. I see now that you were +right. The picture cannot be shown. You must not be angry with me, +Dorian, for what I have told you. As I said to Harry, once, you are +made to be worshipped.” + +Dorian Gray drew a long breath. The colour came back to his cheeks, and +a smile played about his lips. The peril was over. He was safe for the +time. Yet he could not help feeling infinite pity for the painter who +had just made this strange confession to him, and wondered if he +himself would ever be so dominated by the personality of a friend. Lord +Henry had the charm of being very dangerous. But that was all. He was +too clever and too cynical to be really fond of. Would there ever be +some one who would fill him with a strange idolatry? Was that one of +the things that life had in store? + +“It is extraordinary to me, Dorian,” said Hallward, “that you should +have seen this in the portrait. Did you really see it?” + +“I saw something in it,” he answered, “something that seemed to me very +curious.” + +“Well, you don’t mind my looking at the thing now?” + +Dorian shook his head. “You must not ask me that, Basil. I could not +possibly let you stand in front of that picture.” + +“You will some day, surely?” + +“Never.” + +“Well, perhaps you are right. And now good-bye, Dorian. You have been +the one person in my life who has really influenced my art. Whatever I +have done that is good, I owe to you. Ah! you don’t know what it cost +me to tell you all that I have told you.” + +“My dear Basil,” said Dorian, “what have you told me? Simply that you +felt that you admired me too much. That is not even a compliment.” + +“It was not intended as a compliment. It was a confession. Now that I +have made it, something seems to have gone out of me. Perhaps one +should never put one’s worship into words.” + +“It was a very disappointing confession.” + +“Why, what did you expect, Dorian? You didn’t see anything else in the +picture, did you? There was nothing else to see?” + +“No; there was nothing else to see. Why do you ask? But you mustn’t +talk about worship. It is foolish. You and I are friends, Basil, and we +must always remain so.” + +“You have got Harry,” said the painter sadly. + +“Oh, Harry!” cried the lad, with a ripple of laughter. “Harry spends +his days in saying what is incredible and his evenings in doing what is +improbable. Just the sort of life I would like to lead. But still I +don’t think I would go to Harry if I were in trouble. I would sooner go +to you, Basil.” + +“You will sit to me again?” + +“Impossible!” + +“You spoil my life as an artist by refusing, Dorian. No man comes +across two ideal things. Few come across one.” + +“I can’t explain it to you, Basil, but I must never sit to you again. +There is something fatal about a portrait. It has a life of its own. I +will come and have tea with you. That will be just as pleasant.” + +“Pleasanter for you, I am afraid,” murmured Hallward regretfully. “And +now good-bye. I am sorry you won’t let me look at the picture once +again. But that can’t be helped. I quite understand what you feel about +it.” + +As he left the room, Dorian Gray smiled to himself. Poor Basil! How +little he knew of the true reason! And how strange it was that, instead +of having been forced to reveal his own secret, he had succeeded, +almost by chance, in wresting a secret from his friend! How much that +strange confession explained to him! The painter’s absurd fits of +jealousy, his wild devotion, his extravagant panegyrics, his curious +reticences—he understood them all now, and he felt sorry. There seemed +to him to be something tragic in a friendship so coloured by romance. + +He sighed and touched the bell. The portrait must be hidden away at all +costs. He could not run such a risk of discovery again. It had been mad +of him to have allowed the thing to remain, even for an hour, in a room +to which any of his friends had access. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +When his servant entered, he looked at him steadfastly and wondered if +he had thought of peering behind the screen. The man was quite +impassive and waited for his orders. Dorian lit a cigarette and walked +over to the glass and glanced into it. He could see the reflection of +Victor’s face perfectly. It was like a placid mask of servility. There +was nothing to be afraid of, there. Yet he thought it best to be on his +guard. + +Speaking very slowly, he told him to tell the house-keeper that he +wanted to see her, and then to go to the frame-maker and ask him to +send two of his men round at once. It seemed to him that as the man +left the room his eyes wandered in the direction of the screen. Or was +that merely his own fancy? + +After a few moments, in her black silk dress, with old-fashioned thread +mittens on her wrinkled hands, Mrs. Leaf bustled into the library. He +asked her for the key of the schoolroom. + +“The old schoolroom, Mr. Dorian?” she exclaimed. “Why, it is full of +dust. I must get it arranged and put straight before you go into it. It +is not fit for you to see, sir. It is not, indeed.” + +“I don’t want it put straight, Leaf. I only want the key.” + +“Well, sir, you’ll be covered with cobwebs if you go into it. Why, it +hasn’t been opened for nearly five years—not since his lordship died.” + +He winced at the mention of his grandfather. He had hateful memories of +him. “That does not matter,” he answered. “I simply want to see the +place—that is all. Give me the key.” + +“And here is the key, sir,” said the old lady, going over the contents +of her bunch with tremulously uncertain hands. “Here is the key. I’ll +have it off the bunch in a moment. But you don’t think of living up +there, sir, and you so comfortable here?” + +“No, no,” he cried petulantly. “Thank you, Leaf. That will do.” + +She lingered for a few moments, and was garrulous over some detail of +the household. He sighed and told her to manage things as she thought +best. She left the room, wreathed in smiles. + +As the door closed, Dorian put the key in his pocket and looked round +the room. His eye fell on a large, purple satin coverlet heavily +embroidered with gold, a splendid piece of late seventeenth-century +Venetian work that his grandfather had found in a convent near Bologna. +Yes, that would serve to wrap the dreadful thing in. It had perhaps +served often as a pall for the dead. Now it was to hide something that +had a corruption of its own, worse than the corruption of death +itself—something that would breed horrors and yet would never die. What +the worm was to the corpse, his sins would be to the painted image on +the canvas. They would mar its beauty and eat away its grace. They +would defile it and make it shameful. And yet the thing would still +live on. It would be always alive. + +He shuddered, and for a moment he regretted that he had not told Basil +the true reason why he had wished to hide the picture away. Basil would +have helped him to resist Lord Henry’s influence, and the still more +poisonous influences that came from his own temperament. The love that +he bore him—for it was really love—had nothing in it that was not noble +and intellectual. It was not that mere physical admiration of beauty +that is born of the senses and that dies when the senses tire. It was +such love as Michelangelo had known, and Montaigne, and Winckelmann, +and Shakespeare himself. Yes, Basil could have saved him. But it was +too late now. The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or +forgetfulness could do that. But the future was inevitable. There were +passions in him that would find their terrible outlet, dreams that +would make the shadow of their evil real. + +He took up from the couch the great purple-and-gold texture that +covered it, and, holding it in his hands, passed behind the screen. Was +the face on the canvas viler than before? It seemed to him that it was +unchanged, and yet his loathing of it was intensified. Gold hair, blue +eyes, and rose-red lips—they all were there. It was simply the +expression that had altered. That was horrible in its cruelty. Compared +to what he saw in it of censure or rebuke, how shallow Basil’s +reproaches about Sibyl Vane had been!—how shallow, and of what little +account! His own soul was looking out at him from the canvas and +calling him to judgement. A look of pain came across him, and he flung +the rich pall over the picture. As he did so, a knock came to the door. +He passed out as his servant entered. + +“The persons are here, Monsieur.” + +He felt that the man must be got rid of at once. He must not be allowed +to know where the picture was being taken to. There was something sly +about him, and he had thoughtful, treacherous eyes. Sitting down at the +writing-table he scribbled a note to Lord Henry, asking him to send him +round something to read and reminding him that they were to meet at +eight-fifteen that evening. + +“Wait for an answer,” he said, handing it to him, “and show the men in +here.” + +In two or three minutes there was another knock, and Mr. Hubbard +himself, the celebrated frame-maker of South Audley Street, came in +with a somewhat rough-looking young assistant. Mr. Hubbard was a +florid, red-whiskered little man, whose admiration for art was +considerably tempered by the inveterate impecuniosity of most of the +artists who dealt with him. As a rule, he never left his shop. He +waited for people to come to him. But he always made an exception in +favour of Dorian Gray. There was something about Dorian that charmed +everybody. It was a pleasure even to see him. + +“What can I do for you, Mr. Gray?” he said, rubbing his fat freckled +hands. “I thought I would do myself the honour of coming round in +person. I have just got a beauty of a frame, sir. Picked it up at a +sale. Old Florentine. Came from Fonthill, I believe. Admirably suited +for a religious subject, Mr. Gray.” + +“I am so sorry you have given yourself the trouble of coming round, Mr. +Hubbard. I shall certainly drop in and look at the frame—though I don’t +go in much at present for religious art—but to-day I only want a +picture carried to the top of the house for me. It is rather heavy, so +I thought I would ask you to lend me a couple of your men.” + +“No trouble at all, Mr. Gray. I am delighted to be of any service to +you. Which is the work of art, sir?” + +“This,” replied Dorian, moving the screen back. “Can you move it, +covering and all, just as it is? I don’t want it to get scratched going +upstairs.” + +“There will be no difficulty, sir,” said the genial frame-maker, +beginning, with the aid of his assistant, to unhook the picture from +the long brass chains by which it was suspended. “And, now, where shall +we carry it to, Mr. Gray?” + +“I will show you the way, Mr. Hubbard, if you will kindly follow me. Or +perhaps you had better go in front. I am afraid it is right at the top +of the house. We will go up by the front staircase, as it is wider.” + +He held the door open for them, and they passed out into the hall and +began the ascent. The elaborate character of the frame had made the +picture extremely bulky, and now and then, in spite of the obsequious +protests of Mr. Hubbard, who had the true tradesman’s spirited dislike +of seeing a gentleman doing anything useful, Dorian put his hand to it +so as to help them. + +“Something of a load to carry, sir,” gasped the little man when they +reached the top landing. And he wiped his shiny forehead. + +“I am afraid it is rather heavy,” murmured Dorian as he unlocked the +door that opened into the room that was to keep for him the curious +secret of his life and hide his soul from the eyes of men. + +He had not entered the place for more than four years—not, indeed, +since he had used it first as a play-room when he was a child, and then +as a study when he grew somewhat older. It was a large, +well-proportioned room, which had been specially built by the last Lord +Kelso for the use of the little grandson whom, for his strange likeness +to his mother, and also for other reasons, he had always hated and +desired to keep at a distance. It appeared to Dorian to have but little +changed. There was the huge Italian _cassone_, with its fantastically +painted panels and its tarnished gilt mouldings, in which he had so +often hidden himself as a boy. There the satinwood book-case filled +with his dog-eared schoolbooks. On the wall behind it was hanging the +same ragged Flemish tapestry where a faded king and queen were playing +chess in a garden, while a company of hawkers rode by, carrying hooded +birds on their gauntleted wrists. How well he remembered it all! Every +moment of his lonely childhood came back to him as he looked round. He +recalled the stainless purity of his boyish life, and it seemed +horrible to him that it was here the fatal portrait was to be hidden +away. How little he had thought, in those dead days, of all that was in +store for him! + +But there was no other place in the house so secure from prying eyes as +this. He had the key, and no one else could enter it. Beneath its +purple pall, the face painted on the canvas could grow bestial, sodden, +and unclean. What did it matter? No one could see it. He himself would +not see it. Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his soul? He +kept his youth—that was enough. And, besides, might not his nature grow +finer, after all? There was no reason that the future should be so full +of shame. Some love might come across his life, and purify him, and +shield him from those sins that seemed to be already stirring in spirit +and in flesh—those curious unpictured sins whose very mystery lent them +their subtlety and their charm. Perhaps, some day, the cruel look would +have passed away from the scarlet sensitive mouth, and he might show to +the world Basil Hallward’s masterpiece. + +No; that was impossible. Hour by hour, and week by week, the thing upon +the canvas was growing old. It might escape the hideousness of sin, but +the hideousness of age was in store for it. The cheeks would become +hollow or flaccid. Yellow crow’s feet would creep round the fading eyes +and make them horrible. The hair would lose its brightness, the mouth +would gape or droop, would be foolish or gross, as the mouths of old +men are. There would be the wrinkled throat, the cold, blue-veined +hands, the twisted body, that he remembered in the grandfather who had +been so stern to him in his boyhood. The picture had to be concealed. +There was no help for it. + +“Bring it in, Mr. Hubbard, please,” he said, wearily, turning round. “I +am sorry I kept you so long. I was thinking of something else.” + +“Always glad to have a rest, Mr. Gray,” answered the frame-maker, who +was still gasping for breath. “Where shall we put it, sir?” + +“Oh, anywhere. Here: this will do. I don’t want to have it hung up. +Just lean it against the wall. Thanks.” + +“Might one look at the work of art, sir?” + +Dorian started. “It would not interest you, Mr. Hubbard,” he said, +keeping his eye on the man. He felt ready to leap upon him and fling +him to the ground if he dared to lift the gorgeous hanging that +concealed the secret of his life. “I shan’t trouble you any more now. I +am much obliged for your kindness in coming round.” + +“Not at all, not at all, Mr. Gray. Ever ready to do anything for you, +sir.” And Mr. Hubbard tramped downstairs, followed by the assistant, +who glanced back at Dorian with a look of shy wonder in his rough +uncomely face. He had never seen any one so marvellous. + +When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Dorian locked the door +and put the key in his pocket. He felt safe now. No one would ever look +upon the horrible thing. No eye but his would ever see his shame. + +On reaching the library, he found that it was just after five o’clock +and that the tea had been already brought up. On a little table of dark +perfumed wood thickly incrusted with nacre, a present from Lady Radley, +his guardian’s wife, a pretty professional invalid who had spent the +preceding winter in Cairo, was lying a note from Lord Henry, and beside +it was a book bound in yellow paper, the cover slightly torn and the +edges soiled. A copy of the third edition of _The St. James’s Gazette_ +had been placed on the tea-tray. It was evident that Victor had +returned. He wondered if he had met the men in the hall as they were +leaving the house and had wormed out of them what they had been doing. +He would be sure to miss the picture—had no doubt missed it already, +while he had been laying the tea-things. The screen had not been set +back, and a blank space was visible on the wall. Perhaps some night he +might find him creeping upstairs and trying to force the door of the +room. It was a horrible thing to have a spy in one’s house. He had +heard of rich men who had been blackmailed all their lives by some +servant who had read a letter, or overheard a conversation, or picked +up a card with an address, or found beneath a pillow a withered flower +or a shred of crumpled lace. + +He sighed, and having poured himself out some tea, opened Lord Henry’s +note. It was simply to say that he sent him round the evening paper, +and a book that might interest him, and that he would be at the club at +eight-fifteen. He opened _The St. James’s_ languidly, and looked +through it. A red pencil-mark on the fifth page caught his eye. It drew +attention to the following paragraph: + +INQUEST ON AN ACTRESS.—An inquest was held this morning at the Bell +Tavern, Hoxton Road, by Mr. Danby, the District Coroner, on the body of +Sibyl Vane, a young actress recently engaged at the Royal Theatre, +Holborn. A verdict of death by misadventure was returned. Considerable +sympathy was expressed for the mother of the deceased, who was greatly +affected during the giving of her own evidence, and that of Dr. +Birrell, who had made the post-mortem examination of the deceased. + + +He frowned, and tearing the paper in two, went across the room and +flung the pieces away. How ugly it all was! And how horribly real +ugliness made things! He felt a little annoyed with Lord Henry for +having sent him the report. And it was certainly stupid of him to have +marked it with red pencil. Victor might have read it. The man knew more +than enough English for that. + +Perhaps he had read it and had begun to suspect something. And, yet, +what did it matter? What had Dorian Gray to do with Sibyl Vane’s death? +There was nothing to fear. Dorian Gray had not killed her. + +His eye fell on the yellow book that Lord Henry had sent him. What was +it, he wondered. He went towards the little, pearl-coloured octagonal +stand that had always looked to him like the work of some strange +Egyptian bees that wrought in silver, and taking up the volume, flung +himself into an arm-chair and began to turn over the leaves. After a +few minutes he became absorbed. It was the strangest book that he had +ever read. It seemed to him that in exquisite raiment, and to the +delicate sound of flutes, the sins of the world were passing in dumb +show before him. Things that he had dimly dreamed of were suddenly made +real to him. Things of which he had never dreamed were gradually +revealed. + +It was a novel without a plot and with only one character, being, +indeed, simply a psychological study of a certain young Parisian who +spent his life trying to realize in the nineteenth century all the +passions and modes of thought that belonged to every century except his +own, and to sum up, as it were, in himself the various moods through +which the world-spirit had ever passed, loving for their mere +artificiality those renunciations that men have unwisely called virtue, +as much as those natural rebellions that wise men still call sin. The +style in which it was written was that curious jewelled style, vivid +and obscure at once, full of _argot_ and of archaisms, of technical +expressions and of elaborate paraphrases, that characterizes the work +of some of the finest artists of the French school of _Symbolistes_. +There were in it metaphors as monstrous as orchids and as subtle in +colour. The life of the senses was described in the terms of mystical +philosophy. One hardly knew at times whether one was reading the +spiritual ecstasies of some mediæval saint or the morbid confessions of +a modern sinner. It was a poisonous book. The heavy odour of incense +seemed to cling about its pages and to trouble the brain. The mere +cadence of the sentences, the subtle monotony of their music, so full +as it was of complex refrains and movements elaborately repeated, +produced in the mind of the lad, as he passed from chapter to chapter, +a form of reverie, a malady of dreaming, that made him unconscious of +the falling day and creeping shadows. + +Cloudless, and pierced by one solitary star, a copper-green sky gleamed +through the windows. He read on by its wan light till he could read no +more. Then, after his valet had reminded him several times of the +lateness of the hour, he got up, and going into the next room, placed +the book on the little Florentine table that always stood at his +bedside and began to dress for dinner. + +It was almost nine o’clock before he reached the club, where he found +Lord Henry sitting alone, in the morning-room, looking very much bored. + +“I am so sorry, Harry,” he cried, “but really it is entirely your +fault. That book you sent me so fascinated me that I forgot how the +time was going.” + +“Yes, I thought you would like it,” replied his host, rising from his +chair. + +“I didn’t say I liked it, Harry. I said it fascinated me. There is a +great difference.” + +“Ah, you have discovered that?” murmured Lord Henry. And they passed +into the dining-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +For years, Dorian Gray could not free himself from the influence of +this book. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he never +sought to free himself from it. He procured from Paris no less than +nine large-paper copies of the first edition, and had them bound in +different colours, so that they might suit his various moods and the +changing fancies of a nature over which he seemed, at times, to have +almost entirely lost control. The hero, the wonderful young Parisian in +whom the romantic and the scientific temperaments were so strangely +blended, became to him a kind of prefiguring type of himself. And, +indeed, the whole book seemed to him to contain the story of his own +life, written before he had lived it. + +In one point he was more fortunate than the novel’s fantastic hero. He +never knew—never, indeed, had any cause to know—that somewhat grotesque +dread of mirrors, and polished metal surfaces, and still water which +came upon the young Parisian so early in his life, and was occasioned +by the sudden decay of a beau that had once, apparently, been so +remarkable. It was with an almost cruel joy—and perhaps in nearly every +joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its place—that he used +to read the latter part of the book, with its really tragic, if +somewhat overemphasized, account of the sorrow and despair of one who +had himself lost what in others, and the world, he had most dearly +valued. + +For the wonderful beauty that had so fascinated Basil Hallward, and +many others besides him, seemed never to leave him. Even those who had +heard the most evil things against him—and from time to time strange +rumours about his mode of life crept through London and became the +chatter of the clubs—could not believe anything to his dishonour when +they saw him. He had always the look of one who had kept himself +unspotted from the world. Men who talked grossly became silent when +Dorian Gray entered the room. There was something in the purity of his +face that rebuked them. His mere presence seemed to recall to them the +memory of the innocence that they had tarnished. They wondered how one +so charming and graceful as he was could have escaped the stain of an +age that was at once sordid and sensual. + +Often, on returning home from one of those mysterious and prolonged +absences that gave rise to such strange conjecture among those who were +his friends, or thought that they were so, he himself would creep +upstairs to the locked room, open the door with the key that never left +him now, and stand, with a mirror, in front of the portrait that Basil +Hallward had painted of him, looking now at the evil and aging face on +the canvas, and now at the fair young face that laughed back at him +from the polished glass. The very sharpness of the contrast used to +quicken his sense of pleasure. He grew more and more enamoured of his +own beauty, more and more interested in the corruption of his own soul. +He would examine with minute care, and sometimes with a monstrous and +terrible delight, the hideous lines that seared the wrinkling forehead +or crawled around the heavy sensual mouth, wondering sometimes which +were the more horrible, the signs of sin or the signs of age. He would +place his white hands beside the coarse bloated hands of the picture, +and smile. He mocked the misshapen body and the failing limbs. + +There were moments, indeed, at night, when, lying sleepless in his own +delicately scented chamber, or in the sordid room of the little +ill-famed tavern near the docks which, under an assumed name and in +disguise, it was his habit to frequent, he would think of the ruin he +had brought upon his soul with a pity that was all the more poignant +because it was purely selfish. But moments such as these were rare. +That curiosity about life which Lord Henry had first stirred in him, as +they sat together in the garden of their friend, seemed to increase +with gratification. The more he knew, the more he desired to know. He +had mad hungers that grew more ravenous as he fed them. + +Yet he was not really reckless, at any rate in his relations to +society. Once or twice every month during the winter, and on each +Wednesday evening while the season lasted, he would throw open to the +world his beautiful house and have the most celebrated musicians of the +day to charm his guests with the wonders of their art. His little +dinners, in the settling of which Lord Henry always assisted him, were +noted as much for the careful selection and placing of those invited, +as for the exquisite taste shown in the decoration of the table, with +its subtle symphonic arrangements of exotic flowers, and embroidered +cloths, and antique plate of gold and silver. Indeed, there were many, +especially among the very young men, who saw, or fancied that they saw, +in Dorian Gray the true realization of a type of which they had often +dreamed in Eton or Oxford days, a type that was to combine something of +the real culture of the scholar with all the grace and distinction and +perfect manner of a citizen of the world. To them he seemed to be of +the company of those whom Dante describes as having sought to “make +themselves perfect by the worship of beauty.” Like Gautier, he was one +for whom “the visible world existed.” + +And, certainly, to him life itself was the first, the greatest, of the +arts, and for it all the other arts seemed to be but a preparation. +Fashion, by which what is really fantastic becomes for a moment +universal, and dandyism, which, in its own way, is an attempt to assert +the absolute modernity of beauty, had, of course, their fascination for +him. His mode of dressing, and the particular styles that from time to +time he affected, had their marked influence on the young exquisites of +the Mayfair balls and Pall Mall club windows, who copied him in +everything that he did, and tried to reproduce the accidental charm of +his graceful, though to him only half-serious, fopperies. + +For, while he was but too ready to accept the position that was almost +immediately offered to him on his coming of age, and found, indeed, a +subtle pleasure in the thought that he might really become to the +London of his own day what to imperial Neronian Rome the author of the +Satyricon once had been, yet in his inmost heart he desired to be +something more than a mere _arbiter elegantiarum_, to be consulted on +the wearing of a jewel, or the knotting of a necktie, or the conduct of +a cane. He sought to elaborate some new scheme of life that would have +its reasoned philosophy and its ordered principles, and find in the +spiritualizing of the senses its highest realization. + +The worship of the senses has often, and with much justice, been +decried, men feeling a natural instinct of terror about passions and +sensations that seem stronger than themselves, and that they are +conscious of sharing with the less highly organized forms of existence. +But it appeared to Dorian Gray that the true nature of the senses had +never been understood, and that they had remained savage and animal +merely because the world had sought to starve them into submission or +to kill them by pain, instead of aiming at making them elements of a +new spirituality, of which a fine instinct for beauty was to be the +dominant characteristic. As he looked back upon man moving through +history, he was haunted by a feeling of loss. So much had been +surrendered! and to such little purpose! There had been mad wilful +rejections, monstrous forms of self-torture and self-denial, whose +origin was fear and whose result was a degradation infinitely more +terrible than that fancied degradation from which, in their ignorance, +they had sought to escape; Nature, in her wonderful irony, driving out +the anchorite to feed with the wild animals of the desert and giving to +the hermit the beasts of the field as his companions. + +Yes: there was to be, as Lord Henry had prophesied, a new Hedonism that +was to recreate life and to save it from that harsh uncomely puritanism +that is having, in our own day, its curious revival. It was to have its +service of the intellect, certainly, yet it was never to accept any +theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any mode of +passionate experience. Its aim, indeed, was to be experience itself, +and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter as they might be. Of +the asceticism that deadens the senses, as of the vulgar profligacy +that dulls them, it was to know nothing. But it was to teach man to +concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is itself but a +moment. + +There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either +after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost enamoured of +death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through +the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality +itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, +and that lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one +might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have been troubled +with the malady of reverie. Gradually white fingers creep through the +curtains, and they appear to tremble. In black fantastic shapes, dumb +shadows crawl into the corners of the room and crouch there. Outside, +there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men +going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down +from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it +feared to wake the sleepers and yet must needs call forth sleep from +her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by +degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we +watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan +mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we +had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been +studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the +letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. +Nothing seems to us changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night +comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where +we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the +necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of +stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids +might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in +the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh +shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in +which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, +in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of +joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain. + +It was the creation of such worlds as these that seemed to Dorian Gray +to be the true object, or amongst the true objects, of life; and in his +search for sensations that would be at once new and delightful, and +possess that element of strangeness that is so essential to romance, he +would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really +alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences, and +then, having, as it were, caught their colour and satisfied his +intellectual curiosity, leave them with that curious indifference that +is not incompatible with a real ardour of temperament, and that, +indeed, according to certain modern psychologists, is often a condition +of it. + +It was rumoured of him once that he was about to join the Roman +Catholic communion, and certainly the Roman ritual had always a great +attraction for him. The daily sacrifice, more awful really than all the +sacrifices of the antique world, stirred him as much by its superb +rejection of the evidence of the senses as by the primitive simplicity +of its elements and the eternal pathos of the human tragedy that it +sought to symbolize. He loved to kneel down on the cold marble pavement +and watch the priest, in his stiff flowered dalmatic, slowly and with +white hands moving aside the veil of the tabernacle, or raising aloft +the jewelled, lantern-shaped monstrance with that pallid wafer that at +times, one would fain think, is indeed the “_panis cælestis_,” the +bread of angels, or, robed in the garments of the Passion of Christ, +breaking the Host into the chalice and smiting his breast for his sins. +The fuming censers that the grave boys, in their lace and scarlet, +tossed into the air like great gilt flowers had their subtle +fascination for him. As he passed out, he used to look with wonder at +the black confessionals and long to sit in the dim shadow of one of +them and listen to men and women whispering through the worn grating +the true story of their lives. + +But he never fell into the error of arresting his intellectual +development by any formal acceptance of creed or system, or of +mistaking, for a house in which to live, an inn that is but suitable +for the sojourn of a night, or for a few hours of a night in which +there are no stars and the moon is in travail. Mysticism, with its +marvellous power of making common things strange to us, and the subtle +antinomianism that always seems to accompany it, moved him for a +season; and for a season he inclined to the materialistic doctrines of +the _Darwinismus_ movement in Germany, and found a curious pleasure in +tracing the thoughts and passions of men to some pearly cell in the +brain, or some white nerve in the body, delighting in the conception of +the absolute dependence of the spirit on certain physical conditions, +morbid or healthy, normal or diseased. Yet, as has been said of him +before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance +compared with life itself. He felt keenly conscious of how barren all +intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment. +He knew that the senses, no less than the soul, have their spiritual +mysteries to reveal. + +And so he would now study perfumes and the secrets of their +manufacture, distilling heavily scented oils and burning odorous gums +from the East. He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not +its counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their +true relations, wondering what there was in frankincense that made one +mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one’s passions, and in violets +that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that troubled the +brain, and in champak that stained the imagination; and seeking often +to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes, and to estimate the several +influences of sweet-smelling roots and scented, pollen-laden flowers; +of aromatic balms and of dark and fragrant woods; of spikenard, that +sickens; of hovenia, that makes men mad; and of aloes, that are said to +be able to expel melancholy from the soul. + +At another time he devoted himself entirely to music, and in a long +latticed room, with a vermilion-and-gold ceiling and walls of +olive-green lacquer, he used to give curious concerts in which mad +gipsies tore wild music from little zithers, or grave, yellow-shawled +Tunisians plucked at the strained strings of monstrous lutes, while +grinning Negroes beat monotonously upon copper drums and, crouching +upon scarlet mats, slim turbaned Indians blew through long pipes of +reed or brass and charmed—or feigned to charm—great hooded snakes and +horrible horned adders. The harsh intervals and shrill discords of +barbaric music stirred him at times when Schubert’s grace, and Chopin’s +beautiful sorrows, and the mighty harmonies of Beethoven himself, fell +unheeded on his ear. He collected together from all parts of the world +the strangest instruments that could be found, either in the tombs of +dead nations or among the few savage tribes that have survived contact +with Western civilizations, and loved to touch and try them. He had the +mysterious _juruparis_ of the Rio Negro Indians, that women are not +allowed to look at and that even youths may not see till they have been +subjected to fasting and scourging, and the earthen jars of the +Peruvians that have the shrill cries of birds, and flutes of human +bones such as Alfonso de Ovalle heard in Chile, and the sonorous green +jaspers that are found near Cuzco and give forth a note of singular +sweetness. He had painted gourds filled with pebbles that rattled when +they were shaken; the long _clarin_ of the Mexicans, into which the +performer does not blow, but through which he inhales the air; the +harsh _ture_ of the Amazon tribes, that is sounded by the sentinels who +sit all day long in high trees, and can be heard, it is said, at a +distance of three leagues; the _teponaztli_, that has two vibrating +tongues of wood and is beaten with sticks that are smeared with an +elastic gum obtained from the milky juice of plants; the _yotl_-bells +of the Aztecs, that are hung in clusters like grapes; and a huge +cylindrical drum, covered with the skins of great serpents, like the +one that Bernal Diaz saw when he went with Cortes into the Mexican +temple, and of whose doleful sound he has left us so vivid a +description. The fantastic character of these instruments fascinated +him, and he felt a curious delight in the thought that art, like +Nature, has her monsters, things of bestial shape and with hideous +voices. Yet, after some time, he wearied of them, and would sit in his +box at the opera, either alone or with Lord Henry, listening in rapt +pleasure to “Tannhauser” and seeing in the prelude to that great work +of art a presentation of the tragedy of his own soul. + +On one occasion he took up the study of jewels, and appeared at a +costume ball as Anne de Joyeuse, Admiral of France, in a dress covered +with five hundred and sixty pearls. This taste enthralled him for +years, and, indeed, may be said never to have left him. He would often +spend a whole day settling and resettling in their cases the various +stones that he had collected, such as the olive-green chrysoberyl that +turns red by lamplight, the cymophane with its wirelike line of silver, +the pistachio-coloured peridot, rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, +carbuncles of fiery scarlet with tremulous, four-rayed stars, flame-red +cinnamon-stones, orange and violet spinels, and amethysts with their +alternate layers of ruby and sapphire. He loved the red gold of the +sunstone, and the moonstone’s pearly whiteness, and the broken rainbow +of the milky opal. He procured from Amsterdam three emeralds of +extraordinary size and richness of colour, and had a turquoise _de la +vieille roche_ that was the envy of all the connoisseurs. + +He discovered wonderful stories, also, about jewels. In Alphonso’s +Clericalis Disciplina a serpent was mentioned with eyes of real +jacinth, and in the romantic history of Alexander, the Conqueror of +Emathia was said to have found in the vale of Jordan snakes “with +collars of real emeralds growing on their backs.” There was a gem in +the brain of the dragon, Philostratus told us, and “by the exhibition +of golden letters and a scarlet robe” the monster could be thrown into +a magical sleep and slain. According to the great alchemist, Pierre de +Boniface, the diamond rendered a man invisible, and the agate of India +made him eloquent. The cornelian appeased anger, and the hyacinth +provoked sleep, and the amethyst drove away the fumes of wine. The +garnet cast out demons, and the hydropicus deprived the moon of her +colour. The selenite waxed and waned with the moon, and the meloceus, +that discovers thieves, could be affected only by the blood of kids. +Leonardus Camillus had seen a white stone taken from the brain of a +newly killed toad, that was a certain antidote against poison. The +bezoar, that was found in the heart of the Arabian deer, was a charm +that could cure the plague. In the nests of Arabian birds was the +aspilates, that, according to Democritus, kept the wearer from any +danger by fire. + +The King of Ceilan rode through his city with a large ruby in his hand, +as the ceremony of his coronation. The gates of the palace of John the +Priest were “made of sardius, with the horn of the horned snake +inwrought, so that no man might bring poison within.” Over the gable +were “two golden apples, in which were two carbuncles,” so that the +gold might shine by day and the carbuncles by night. In Lodge’s strange +romance ‘A Margarite of America’, it was stated that in the chamber of +the queen one could behold “all the chaste ladies of the world, +inchased out of silver, looking through fair mirrours of chrysolites, +carbuncles, sapphires, and greene emeraults.” Marco Polo had seen the +inhabitants of Zipangu place rose-coloured pearls in the mouths of the +dead. A sea-monster had been enamoured of the pearl that the diver +brought to King Perozes, and had slain the thief, and mourned for seven +moons over its loss. When the Huns lured the king into the great pit, +he flung it away—Procopius tells the story—nor was it ever found again, +though the Emperor Anastasius offered five hundred-weight of gold +pieces for it. The King of Malabar had shown to a certain Venetian a +rosary of three hundred and four pearls, one for every god that he +worshipped. + +When the Duke de Valentinois, son of Alexander VI., visited Louis XII. +of France, his horse was loaded with gold leaves, according to +Brantome, and his cap had double rows of rubies that threw out a great +light. Charles of England had ridden in stirrups hung with four hundred +and twenty-one diamonds. Richard II had a coat, valued at thirty +thousand marks, which was covered with balas rubies. Hall described +Henry VIII., on his way to the Tower previous to his coronation, as +wearing “a jacket of raised gold, the placard embroidered with diamonds +and other rich stones, and a great bauderike about his neck of large +balasses.” The favourites of James I wore ear-rings of emeralds set in +gold filigrane. Edward II gave to Piers Gaveston a suit of red-gold +armour studded with jacinths, a collar of gold roses set with +turquoise-stones, and a skull-cap _parsemé_ with pearls. Henry II. wore +jewelled gloves reaching to the elbow, and had a hawk-glove sewn with +twelve rubies and fifty-two great orients. The ducal hat of Charles the +Rash, the last Duke of Burgundy of his race, was hung with pear-shaped +pearls and studded with sapphires. + +How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and +decoration! Even to read of the luxury of the dead was wonderful. + +Then he turned his attention to embroideries and to the tapestries that +performed the office of frescoes in the chill rooms of the northern +nations of Europe. As he investigated the subject—and he always had an +extraordinary faculty of becoming absolutely absorbed for the moment in +whatever he took up—he was almost saddened by the reflection of the +ruin that time brought on beautiful and wonderful things. He, at any +rate, had escaped that. Summer followed summer, and the yellow jonquils +bloomed and died many times, and nights of horror repeated the story of +their shame, but he was unchanged. No winter marred his face or stained +his flowerlike bloom. How different it was with material things! Where +had they passed to? Where was the great crocus-coloured robe, on which +the gods fought against the giants, that had been worked by brown girls +for the pleasure of Athena? Where the huge velarium that Nero had +stretched across the Colosseum at Rome, that Titan sail of purple on +which was represented the starry sky, and Apollo driving a chariot +drawn by white, gilt-reined steeds? He longed to see the curious +table-napkins wrought for the Priest of the Sun, on which were +displayed all the dainties and viands that could be wanted for a feast; +the mortuary cloth of King Chilperic, with its three hundred golden +bees; the fantastic robes that excited the indignation of the Bishop of +Pontus and were figured with “lions, panthers, bears, dogs, forests, +rocks, hunters—all, in fact, that a painter can copy from nature”; and +the coat that Charles of Orleans once wore, on the sleeves of which +were embroidered the verses of a song beginning “_Madame, je suis tout +joyeux_,” the musical accompaniment of the words being wrought in gold +thread, and each note, of square shape in those days, formed with four +pearls. He read of the room that was prepared at the palace at Rheims +for the use of Queen Joan of Burgundy and was decorated with “thirteen +hundred and twenty-one parrots, made in broidery, and blazoned with the +king’s arms, and five hundred and sixty-one butterflies, whose wings +were similarly ornamented with the arms of the queen, the whole worked +in gold.” Catherine de Medicis had a mourning-bed made for her of black +velvet powdered with crescents and suns. Its curtains were of damask, +with leafy wreaths and garlands, figured upon a gold and silver ground, +and fringed along the edges with broideries of pearls, and it stood in +a room hung with rows of the queen’s devices in cut black velvet upon +cloth of silver. Louis XIV. had gold embroidered caryatides fifteen +feet high in his apartment. The state bed of Sobieski, King of Poland, +was made of Smyrna gold brocade embroidered in turquoises with verses +from the Koran. Its supports were of silver gilt, beautifully chased, +and profusely set with enamelled and jewelled medallions. It had been +taken from the Turkish camp before Vienna, and the standard of Mohammed +had stood beneath the tremulous gilt of its canopy. + +And so, for a whole year, he sought to accumulate the most exquisite +specimens that he could find of textile and embroidered work, getting +the dainty Delhi muslins, finely wrought with gold-thread palmates and +stitched over with iridescent beetles’ wings; the Dacca gauzes, that +from their transparency are known in the East as “woven air,” and +“running water,” and “evening dew”; strange figured cloths from Java; +elaborate yellow Chinese hangings; books bound in tawny satins or fair +blue silks and wrought with _fleurs-de-lis_, birds and images; veils of +_lacis_ worked in Hungary point; Sicilian brocades and stiff Spanish +velvets; Georgian work, with its gilt coins, and Japanese _Foukousas_, +with their green-toned golds and their marvellously plumaged birds. + +He had a special passion, also, for ecclesiastical vestments, as indeed +he had for everything connected with the service of the Church. In the +long cedar chests that lined the west gallery of his house, he had +stored away many rare and beautiful specimens of what is really the +raiment of the Bride of Christ, who must wear purple and jewels and +fine linen that she may hide the pallid macerated body that is worn by +the suffering that she seeks for and wounded by self-inflicted pain. He +possessed a gorgeous cope of crimson silk and gold-thread damask, +figured with a repeating pattern of golden pomegranates set in +six-petalled formal blossoms, beyond which on either side was the +pine-apple device wrought in seed-pearls. The orphreys were divided +into panels representing scenes from the life of the Virgin, and the +coronation of the Virgin was figured in coloured silks upon the hood. +This was Italian work of the fifteenth century. Another cope was of +green velvet, embroidered with heart-shaped groups of acanthus-leaves, +from which spread long-stemmed white blossoms, the details of which +were picked out with silver thread and coloured crystals. The morse +bore a seraph’s head in gold-thread raised work. The orphreys were +woven in a diaper of red and gold silk, and were starred with +medallions of many saints and martyrs, among whom was St. Sebastian. He +had chasubles, also, of amber-coloured silk, and blue silk and gold +brocade, and yellow silk damask and cloth of gold, figured with +representations of the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ, and +embroidered with lions and peacocks and other emblems; dalmatics of +white satin and pink silk damask, decorated with tulips and dolphins +and _fleurs-de-lis_; altar frontals of crimson velvet and blue linen; +and many corporals, chalice-veils, and sudaria. In the mystic offices +to which such things were put, there was something that quickened his +imagination. + +For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely +house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he +could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times +to be almost too great to be borne. Upon the walls of the lonely locked +room where he had spent so much of his boyhood, he had hung with his +own hands the terrible portrait whose changing features showed him the +real degradation of his life, and in front of it had draped the +purple-and-gold pall as a curtain. For weeks he would not go there, +would forget the hideous painted thing, and get back his light heart, +his wonderful joyousness, his passionate absorption in mere existence. +Then, suddenly, some night he would creep out of the house, go down to +dreadful places near Blue Gate Fields, and stay there, day after day, +until he was driven away. On his return he would sit in front of the +picture, sometimes loathing it and himself, but filled, at other times, +with that pride of individualism that is half the fascination of sin, +and smiling with secret pleasure at the misshapen shadow that had to +bear the burden that should have been his own. + +After a few years he could not endure to be long out of England, and +gave up the villa that he had shared at Trouville with Lord Henry, as +well as the little white walled-in house at Algiers where they had more +than once spent the winter. He hated to be separated from the picture +that was such a part of his life, and was also afraid that during his +absence some one might gain access to the room, in spite of the +elaborate bars that he had caused to be placed upon the door. + +He was quite conscious that this would tell them nothing. It was true +that the portrait still preserved, under all the foulness and ugliness +of the face, its marked likeness to himself; but what could they learn +from that? He would laugh at any one who tried to taunt him. He had not +painted it. What was it to him how vile and full of shame it looked? +Even if he told them, would they believe it? + +Yet he was afraid. Sometimes when he was down at his great house in +Nottinghamshire, entertaining the fashionable young men of his own rank +who were his chief companions, and astounding the county by the wanton +luxury and gorgeous splendour of his mode of life, he would suddenly +leave his guests and rush back to town to see that the door had not +been tampered with and that the picture was still there. What if it +should be stolen? The mere thought made him cold with horror. Surely +the world would know his secret then. Perhaps the world already +suspected it. + +For, while he fascinated many, there were not a few who distrusted him. +He was very nearly blackballed at a West End club of which his birth +and social position fully entitled him to become a member, and it was +said that on one occasion, when he was brought by a friend into the +smoking-room of the Churchill, the Duke of Berwick and another +gentleman got up in a marked manner and went out. Curious stories +became current about him after he had passed his twenty-fifth year. It +was rumoured that he had been seen brawling with foreign sailors in a +low den in the distant parts of Whitechapel, and that he consorted with +thieves and coiners and knew the mysteries of their trade. His +extraordinary absences became notorious, and, when he used to reappear +again in society, men would whisper to each other in corners, or pass +him with a sneer, or look at him with cold searching eyes, as though +they were determined to discover his secret. + +Of such insolences and attempted slights he, of course, took no notice, +and in the opinion of most people his frank debonair manner, his +charming boyish smile, and the infinite grace of that wonderful youth +that seemed never to leave him, were in themselves a sufficient answer +to the calumnies, for so they termed them, that were circulated about +him. It was remarked, however, that some of those who had been most +intimate with him appeared, after a time, to shun him. Women who had +wildly adored him, and for his sake had braved all social censure and +set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid with shame or +horror if Dorian Gray entered the room. + +Yet these whispered scandals only increased in the eyes of many his +strange and dangerous charm. His great wealth was a certain element of +security. Society—civilized society, at least—is never very ready to +believe anything to the detriment of those who are both rich and +fascinating. It feels instinctively that manners are of more importance +than morals, and, in its opinion, the highest respectability is of much +less value than the possession of a good _chef_. And, after all, it is +a very poor consolation to be told that the man who has given one a bad +dinner, or poor wine, is irreproachable in his private life. Even the +cardinal virtues cannot atone for half-cold _entrées_, as Lord Henry +remarked once, in a discussion on the subject, and there is possibly a +good deal to be said for his view. For the canons of good society are, +or should be, the same as the canons of art. Form is absolutely +essential to it. It should have the dignity of a ceremony, as well as +its unreality, and should combine the insincere character of a romantic +play with the wit and beauty that make such plays delightful to us. Is +insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method +by which we can multiply our personalities. + +Such, at any rate, was Dorian Gray’s opinion. He used to wonder at the +shallow psychology of those who conceive the ego in man as a thing +simple, permanent, reliable, and of one essence. To him, man was a +being with myriad lives and myriad sensations, a complex multiform +creature that bore within itself strange legacies of thought and +passion, and whose very flesh was tainted with the monstrous maladies +of the dead. He loved to stroll through the gaunt cold picture-gallery +of his country house and look at the various portraits of those whose +blood flowed in his veins. Here was Philip Herbert, described by +Francis Osborne, in his Memoires on the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and +King James, as one who was “caressed by the Court for his handsome +face, which kept him not long company.” Was it young Herbert’s life +that he sometimes led? Had some strange poisonous germ crept from body +to body till it had reached his own? Was it some dim sense of that +ruined grace that had made him so suddenly, and almost without cause, +give utterance, in Basil Hallward’s studio, to the mad prayer that had +so changed his life? Here, in gold-embroidered red doublet, jewelled +surcoat, and gilt-edged ruff and wristbands, stood Sir Anthony Sherard, +with his silver-and-black armour piled at his feet. What had this man’s +legacy been? Had the lover of Giovanna of Naples bequeathed him some +inheritance of sin and shame? Were his own actions merely the dreams +that the dead man had not dared to realize? Here, from the fading +canvas, smiled Lady Elizabeth Devereux, in her gauze hood, pearl +stomacher, and pink slashed sleeves. A flower was in her right hand, +and her left clasped an enamelled collar of white and damask roses. On +a table by her side lay a mandolin and an apple. There were large green +rosettes upon her little pointed shoes. He knew her life, and the +strange stories that were told about her lovers. Had he something of +her temperament in him? These oval, heavy-lidded eyes seemed to look +curiously at him. What of George Willoughby, with his powdered hair and +fantastic patches? How evil he looked! The face was saturnine and +swarthy, and the sensual lips seemed to be twisted with disdain. +Delicate lace ruffles fell over the lean yellow hands that were so +overladen with rings. He had been a macaroni of the eighteenth century, +and the friend, in his youth, of Lord Ferrars. What of the second Lord +Beckenham, the companion of the Prince Regent in his wildest days, and +one of the witnesses at the secret marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert? How +proud and handsome he was, with his chestnut curls and insolent pose! +What passions had he bequeathed? The world had looked upon him as +infamous. He had led the orgies at Carlton House. The star of the +Garter glittered upon his breast. Beside him hung the portrait of his +wife, a pallid, thin-lipped woman in black. Her blood, also, stirred +within him. How curious it all seemed! And his mother with her Lady +Hamilton face and her moist, wine-dashed lips—he knew what he had got +from her. He had got from her his beauty, and his passion for the +beauty of others. She laughed at him in her loose Bacchante dress. +There were vine leaves in her hair. The purple spilled from the cup she +was holding. The carnations of the painting had withered, but the eyes +were still wonderful in their depth and brilliancy of colour. They +seemed to follow him wherever he went. + +Yet one had ancestors in literature as well as in one’s own race, +nearer perhaps in type and temperament, many of them, and certainly +with an influence of which one was more absolutely conscious. There +were times when it appeared to Dorian Gray that the whole of history +was merely the record of his own life, not as he had lived it in act +and circumstance, but as his imagination had created it for him, as it +had been in his brain and in his passions. He felt that he had known +them all, those strange terrible figures that had passed across the +stage of the world and made sin so marvellous and evil so full of +subtlety. It seemed to him that in some mysterious way their lives had +been his own. + +The hero of the wonderful novel that had so influenced his life had +himself known this curious fancy. In the seventh chapter he tells how, +crowned with laurel, lest lightning might strike him, he had sat, as +Tiberius, in a garden at Capri, reading the shameful books of +Elephantis, while dwarfs and peacocks strutted round him and the +flute-player mocked the swinger of the censer; and, as Caligula, had +caroused with the green-shirted jockeys in their stables and supped in +an ivory manger with a jewel-frontleted horse; and, as Domitian, had +wandered through a corridor lined with marble mirrors, looking round +with haggard eyes for the reflection of the dagger that was to end his +days, and sick with that ennui, that terrible _tædium vitæ_, that comes +on those to whom life denies nothing; and had peered through a clear +emerald at the red shambles of the circus and then, in a litter of +pearl and purple drawn by silver-shod mules, been carried through the +Street of Pomegranates to a House of Gold and heard men cry on Nero +Caesar as he passed by; and, as Elagabalus, had painted his face with +colours, and plied the distaff among the women, and brought the Moon +from Carthage and given her in mystic marriage to the Sun. + +Over and over again Dorian used to read this fantastic chapter, and the +two chapters immediately following, in which, as in some curious +tapestries or cunningly wrought enamels, were pictured the awful and +beautiful forms of those whom vice and blood and weariness had made +monstrous or mad: Filippo, Duke of Milan, who slew his wife and painted +her lips with a scarlet poison that her lover might suck death from the +dead thing he fondled; Pietro Barbi, the Venetian, known as Paul the +Second, who sought in his vanity to assume the title of Formosus, and +whose tiara, valued at two hundred thousand florins, was bought at the +price of a terrible sin; Gian Maria Visconti, who used hounds to chase +living men and whose murdered body was covered with roses by a harlot +who had loved him; the Borgia on his white horse, with Fratricide +riding beside him and his mantle stained with the blood of Perotto; +Pietro Riario, the young Cardinal Archbishop of Florence, child and +minion of Sixtus IV., whose beauty was equalled only by his debauchery, +and who received Leonora of Aragon in a pavilion of white and crimson +silk, filled with nymphs and centaurs, and gilded a boy that he might +serve at the feast as Ganymede or Hylas; Ezzelin, whose melancholy +could be cured only by the spectacle of death, and who had a passion +for red blood, as other men have for red wine—the son of the Fiend, as +was reported, and one who had cheated his father at dice when gambling +with him for his own soul; Giambattista Cibo, who in mockery took the +name of Innocent and into whose torpid veins the blood of three lads +was infused by a Jewish doctor; Sigismondo Malatesta, the lover of +Isotta and the lord of Rimini, whose effigy was burned at Rome as the +enemy of God and man, who strangled Polyssena with a napkin, and gave +poison to Ginevra d’Este in a cup of emerald, and in honour of a +shameful passion built a pagan church for Christian worship; Charles +VI., who had so wildly adored his brother’s wife that a leper had +warned him of the insanity that was coming on him, and who, when his +brain had sickened and grown strange, could only be soothed by Saracen +cards painted with the images of love and death and madness; and, in +his trimmed jerkin and jewelled cap and acanthuslike curls, Grifonetto +Baglioni, who slew Astorre with his bride, and Simonetto with his page, +and whose comeliness was such that, as he lay dying in the yellow +piazza of Perugia, those who had hated him could not choose but weep, +and Atalanta, who had cursed him, blessed him. + +There was a horrible fascination in them all. He saw them at night, and +they troubled his imagination in the day. The Renaissance knew of +strange manners of poisoning—poisoning by a helmet and a lighted torch, +by an embroidered glove and a jewelled fan, by a gilded pomander and by +an amber chain. Dorian Gray had been poisoned by a book. There were +moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could +realize his conception of the beautiful. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +It was on the ninth of November, the eve of his own thirty-eighth +birthday, as he often remembered afterwards. + +He was walking home about eleven o’clock from Lord Henry’s, where he +had been dining, and was wrapped in heavy furs, as the night was cold +and foggy. At the corner of Grosvenor Square and South Audley Street, a +man passed him in the mist, walking very fast and with the collar of +his grey ulster turned up. He had a bag in his hand. Dorian recognized +him. It was Basil Hallward. A strange sense of fear, for which he could +not account, came over him. He made no sign of recognition and went on +quickly in the direction of his own house. + +But Hallward had seen him. Dorian heard him first stopping on the +pavement and then hurrying after him. In a few moments, his hand was on +his arm. + +“Dorian! What an extraordinary piece of luck! I have been waiting for +you in your library ever since nine o’clock. Finally I took pity on +your tired servant and told him to go to bed, as he let me out. I am +off to Paris by the midnight train, and I particularly wanted to see +you before I left. I thought it was you, or rather your fur coat, as +you passed me. But I wasn’t quite sure. Didn’t you recognize me?” + +“In this fog, my dear Basil? Why, I can’t even recognize Grosvenor +Square. I believe my house is somewhere about here, but I don’t feel at +all certain about it. I am sorry you are going away, as I have not seen +you for ages. But I suppose you will be back soon?” + +“No: I am going to be out of England for six months. I intend to take a +studio in Paris and shut myself up till I have finished a great picture +I have in my head. However, it wasn’t about myself I wanted to talk. +Here we are at your door. Let me come in for a moment. I have something +to say to you.” + +“I shall be charmed. But won’t you miss your train?” said Dorian Gray +languidly as he passed up the steps and opened the door with his +latch-key. + +The lamplight struggled out through the fog, and Hallward looked at his +watch. “I have heaps of time,” he answered. “The train doesn’t go till +twelve-fifteen, and it is only just eleven. In fact, I was on my way to +the club to look for you, when I met you. You see, I shan’t have any +delay about luggage, as I have sent on my heavy things. All I have with +me is in this bag, and I can easily get to Victoria in twenty minutes.” + +Dorian looked at him and smiled. “What a way for a fashionable painter +to travel! A Gladstone bag and an ulster! Come in, or the fog will get +into the house. And mind you don’t talk about anything serious. Nothing +is serious nowadays. At least nothing should be.” + +Hallward shook his head, as he entered, and followed Dorian into the +library. There was a bright wood fire blazing in the large open hearth. +The lamps were lit, and an open Dutch silver spirit-case stood, with +some siphons of soda-water and large cut-glass tumblers, on a little +marqueterie table. + +“You see your servant made me quite at home, Dorian. He gave me +everything I wanted, including your best gold-tipped cigarettes. He is +a most hospitable creature. I like him much better than the Frenchman +you used to have. What has become of the Frenchman, by the bye?” + +Dorian shrugged his shoulders. “I believe he married Lady Radley’s +maid, and has established her in Paris as an English dressmaker. +_Anglomanie_ is very fashionable over there now, I hear. It seems silly +of the French, doesn’t it? But—do you know?—he was not at all a bad +servant. I never liked him, but I had nothing to complain about. One +often imagines things that are quite absurd. He was really very devoted +to me and seemed quite sorry when he went away. Have another +brandy-and-soda? Or would you like hock-and-seltzer? I always take +hock-and-seltzer myself. There is sure to be some in the next room.” + +“Thanks, I won’t have anything more,” said the painter, taking his cap +and coat off and throwing them on the bag that he had placed in the +corner. “And now, my dear fellow, I want to speak to you seriously. +Don’t frown like that. You make it so much more difficult for me.” + +“What is it all about?” cried Dorian in his petulant way, flinging +himself down on the sofa. “I hope it is not about myself. I am tired of +myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else.” + +“It is about yourself,” answered Hallward in his grave deep voice, “and +I must say it to you. I shall only keep you half an hour.” + +Dorian sighed and lit a cigarette. “Half an hour!” he murmured. + +“It is not much to ask of you, Dorian, and it is entirely for your own +sake that I am speaking. I think it right that you should know that the +most dreadful things are being said against you in London.” + +“I don’t wish to know anything about them. I love scandals about other +people, but scandals about myself don’t interest me. They have not got +the charm of novelty.” + +“They must interest you, Dorian. Every gentleman is interested in his +good name. You don’t want people to talk of you as something vile and +degraded. Of course, you have your position, and your wealth, and all +that kind of thing. But position and wealth are not everything. Mind +you, I don’t believe these rumours at all. At least, I can’t believe +them when I see you. Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s +face. It cannot be concealed. People talk sometimes of secret vices. +There are no such things. If a wretched man has a vice, it shows itself +in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the moulding of +his hands even. Somebody—I won’t mention his name, but you know +him—came to me last year to have his portrait done. I had never seen +him before, and had never heard anything about him at the time, though +I have heard a good deal since. He offered an extravagant price. I +refused him. There was something in the shape of his fingers that I +hated. I know now that I was quite right in what I fancied about him. +His life is dreadful. But you, Dorian, with your pure, bright, innocent +face, and your marvellous untroubled youth—I can’t believe anything +against you. And yet I see you very seldom, and you never come down to +the studio now, and when I am away from you, and I hear all these +hideous things that people are whispering about you, I don’t know what +to say. Why is it, Dorian, that a man like the Duke of Berwick leaves +the room of a club when you enter it? Why is it that so many gentlemen +in London will neither go to your house or invite you to theirs? You +used to be a friend of Lord Staveley. I met him at dinner last week. +Your name happened to come up in conversation, in connection with the +miniatures you have lent to the exhibition at the Dudley. Staveley +curled his lip and said that you might have the most artistic tastes, +but that you were a man whom no pure-minded girl should be allowed to +know, and whom no chaste woman should sit in the same room with. I +reminded him that I was a friend of yours, and asked him what he meant. +He told me. He told me right out before everybody. It was horrible! Why +is your friendship so fatal to young men? There was that wretched boy +in the Guards who committed suicide. You were his great friend. There +was Sir Henry Ashton, who had to leave England with a tarnished name. +You and he were inseparable. What about Adrian Singleton and his +dreadful end? What about Lord Kent’s only son and his career? I met his +father yesterday in St. James’s Street. He seemed broken with shame and +sorrow. What about the young Duke of Perth? What sort of life has he +got now? What gentleman would associate with him?” + +“Stop, Basil. You are talking about things of which you know nothing,” +said Dorian Gray, biting his lip, and with a note of infinite contempt +in his voice. “You ask me why Berwick leaves a room when I enter it. It +is because I know everything about his life, not because he knows +anything about mine. With such blood as he has in his veins, how could +his record be clean? You ask me about Henry Ashton and young Perth. Did +I teach the one his vices, and the other his debauchery? If Kent’s +silly son takes his wife from the streets, what is that to me? If +Adrian Singleton writes his friend’s name across a bill, am I his +keeper? I know how people chatter in England. The middle classes air +their moral prejudices over their gross dinner-tables, and whisper +about what they call the profligacies of their betters in order to try +and pretend that they are in smart society and on intimate terms with +the people they slander. In this country, it is enough for a man to +have distinction and brains for every common tongue to wag against him. +And what sort of lives do these people, who pose as being moral, lead +themselves? My dear fellow, you forget that we are in the native land +of the hypocrite.” + +“Dorian,” cried Hallward, “that is not the question. England is bad +enough I know, and English society is all wrong. That is the reason why +I want you to be fine. You have not been fine. One has a right to judge +of a man by the effect he has over his friends. Yours seem to lose all +sense of honour, of goodness, of purity. You have filled them with a +madness for pleasure. They have gone down into the depths. You led them +there. Yes: you led them there, and yet you can smile, as you are +smiling now. And there is worse behind. I know you and Harry are +inseparable. Surely for that reason, if for none other, you should not +have made his sister’s name a by-word.” + +“Take care, Basil. You go too far.” + +“I must speak, and you must listen. You shall listen. When you met Lady +Gwendolen, not a breath of scandal had ever touched her. Is there a +single decent woman in London now who would drive with her in the park? +Why, even her children are not allowed to live with her. Then there are +other stories—stories that you have been seen creeping at dawn out of +dreadful houses and slinking in disguise into the foulest dens in +London. Are they true? Can they be true? When I first heard them, I +laughed. I hear them now, and they make me shudder. What about your +country-house and the life that is led there? Dorian, you don’t know +what is said about you. I won’t tell you that I don’t want to preach to +you. I remember Harry saying once that every man who turned himself +into an amateur curate for the moment always began by saying that, and +then proceeded to break his word. I do want to preach to you. I want +you to lead such a life as will make the world respect you. I want you +to have a clean name and a fair record. I want you to get rid of the +dreadful people you associate with. Don’t shrug your shoulders like +that. Don’t be so indifferent. You have a wonderful influence. Let it +be for good, not for evil. They say that you corrupt every one with +whom you become intimate, and that it is quite sufficient for you to +enter a house for shame of some kind to follow after. I don’t know +whether it is so or not. How should I know? But it is said of you. I am +told things that it seems impossible to doubt. Lord Gloucester was one +of my greatest friends at Oxford. He showed me a letter that his wife +had written to him when she was dying alone in her villa at Mentone. +Your name was implicated in the most terrible confession I ever read. I +told him that it was absurd—that I knew you thoroughly and that you +were incapable of anything of the kind. Know you? I wonder do I know +you? Before I could answer that, I should have to see your soul.” + +“To see my soul!” muttered Dorian Gray, starting up from the sofa and +turning almost white from fear. + +“Yes,” answered Hallward gravely, and with deep-toned sorrow in his +voice, “to see your soul. But only God can do that.” + +A bitter laugh of mockery broke from the lips of the younger man. “You +shall see it yourself, to-night!” he cried, seizing a lamp from the +table. “Come: it is your own handiwork. Why shouldn’t you look at it? +You can tell the world all about it afterwards, if you choose. Nobody +would believe you. If they did believe you, they would like me all the +better for it. I know the age better than you do, though you will prate +about it so tediously. Come, I tell you. You have chattered enough +about corruption. Now you shall look on it face to face.” + +There was the madness of pride in every word he uttered. He stamped his +foot upon the ground in his boyish insolent manner. He felt a terrible +joy at the thought that some one else was to share his secret, and that +the man who had painted the portrait that was the origin of all his +shame was to be burdened for the rest of his life with the hideous +memory of what he had done. + +“Yes,” he continued, coming closer to him and looking steadfastly into +his stern eyes, “I shall show you my soul. You shall see the thing that +you fancy only God can see.” + +Hallward started back. “This is blasphemy, Dorian!” he cried. “You must +not say things like that. They are horrible, and they don’t mean +anything.” + +“You think so?” He laughed again. + +“I know so. As for what I said to you to-night, I said it for your +good. You know I have been always a stanch friend to you.” + +“Don’t touch me. Finish what you have to say.” + +A twisted flash of pain shot across the painter’s face. He paused for a +moment, and a wild feeling of pity came over him. After all, what right +had he to pry into the life of Dorian Gray? If he had done a tithe of +what was rumoured about him, how much he must have suffered! Then he +straightened himself up, and walked over to the fire-place, and stood +there, looking at the burning logs with their frostlike ashes and their +throbbing cores of flame. + +“I am waiting, Basil,” said the young man in a hard clear voice. + +He turned round. “What I have to say is this,” he cried. “You must give +me some answer to these horrible charges that are made against you. If +you tell me that they are absolutely untrue from beginning to end, I +shall believe you. Deny them, Dorian, deny them! Can’t you see what I +am going through? My God! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, +and shameful.” + +Dorian Gray smiled. There was a curl of contempt in his lips. “Come +upstairs, Basil,” he said quietly. “I keep a diary of my life from day +to day, and it never leaves the room in which it is written. I shall +show it to you if you come with me.” + +“I shall come with you, Dorian, if you wish it. I see I have missed my +train. That makes no matter. I can go to-morrow. But don’t ask me to +read anything to-night. All I want is a plain answer to my question.” + +“That shall be given to you upstairs. I could not give it here. You +will not have to read long.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +He passed out of the room and began the ascent, Basil Hallward +following close behind. They walked softly, as men do instinctively at +night. The lamp cast fantastic shadows on the wall and staircase. A +rising wind made some of the windows rattle. + +When they reached the top landing, Dorian set the lamp down on the +floor, and taking out the key, turned it in the lock. “You insist on +knowing, Basil?” he asked in a low voice. + +“Yes.” + +“I am delighted,” he answered, smiling. Then he added, somewhat +harshly, “You are the one man in the world who is entitled to know +everything about me. You have had more to do with my life than you +think”; and, taking up the lamp, he opened the door and went in. A cold +current of air passed them, and the light shot up for a moment in a +flame of murky orange. He shuddered. “Shut the door behind you,” he +whispered, as he placed the lamp on the table. + +Hallward glanced round him with a puzzled expression. The room looked +as if it had not been lived in for years. A faded Flemish tapestry, a +curtained picture, an old Italian _cassone_, and an almost empty +book-case—that was all that it seemed to contain, besides a chair and a +table. As Dorian Gray was lighting a half-burned candle that was +standing on the mantelshelf, he saw that the whole place was covered +with dust and that the carpet was in holes. A mouse ran scuffling +behind the wainscoting. There was a damp odour of mildew. + +“So you think that it is only God who sees the soul, Basil? Draw that +curtain back, and you will see mine.” + +The voice that spoke was cold and cruel. “You are mad, Dorian, or +playing a part,” muttered Hallward, frowning. + +“You won’t? Then I must do it myself,” said the young man, and he tore +the curtain from its rod and flung it on the ground. + +An exclamation of horror broke from the painter’s lips as he saw in the +dim light the hideous face on the canvas grinning at him. There was +something in its expression that filled him with disgust and loathing. +Good heavens! it was Dorian Gray’s own face that he was looking at! The +horror, whatever it was, had not yet entirely spoiled that marvellous +beauty. There was still some gold in the thinning hair and some scarlet +on the sensual mouth. The sodden eyes had kept something of the +loveliness of their blue, the noble curves had not yet completely +passed away from chiselled nostrils and from plastic throat. Yes, it +was Dorian himself. But who had done it? He seemed to recognize his own +brushwork, and the frame was his own design. The idea was monstrous, +yet he felt afraid. He seized the lighted candle, and held it to the +picture. In the left-hand corner was his own name, traced in long +letters of bright vermilion. + +It was some foul parody, some infamous ignoble satire. He had never +done that. Still, it was his own picture. He knew it, and he felt as if +his blood had changed in a moment from fire to sluggish ice. His own +picture! What did it mean? Why had it altered? He turned and looked at +Dorian Gray with the eyes of a sick man. His mouth twitched, and his +parched tongue seemed unable to articulate. He passed his hand across +his forehead. It was dank with clammy sweat. + +The young man was leaning against the mantelshelf, watching him with +that strange expression that one sees on the faces of those who are +absorbed in a play when some great artist is acting. There was neither +real sorrow in it nor real joy. There was simply the passion of the +spectator, with perhaps a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He had taken +the flower out of his coat, and was smelling it, or pretending to do +so. + +“What does this mean?” cried Hallward, at last. His own voice sounded +shrill and curious in his ears. + +“Years ago, when I was a boy,” said Dorian Gray, crushing the flower in +his hand, “you met me, flattered me, and taught me to be vain of my +good looks. One day you introduced me to a friend of yours, who +explained to me the wonder of youth, and you finished a portrait of me +that revealed to me the wonder of beauty. In a mad moment that, even +now, I don’t know whether I regret or not, I made a wish, perhaps you +would call it a prayer....” + +“I remember it! Oh, how well I remember it! No! the thing is +impossible. The room is damp. Mildew has got into the canvas. The +paints I used had some wretched mineral poison in them. I tell you the +thing is impossible.” + +“Ah, what is impossible?” murmured the young man, going over to the +window and leaning his forehead against the cold, mist-stained glass. + +“You told me you had destroyed it.” + +“I was wrong. It has destroyed me.” + +“I don’t believe it is my picture.” + +“Can’t you see your ideal in it?” said Dorian bitterly. + +“My ideal, as you call it...” + +“As you called it.” + +“There was nothing evil in it, nothing shameful. You were to me such an +ideal as I shall never meet again. This is the face of a satyr.” + +“It is the face of my soul.” + +“Christ! what a thing I must have worshipped! It has the eyes of a +devil.” + +“Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil,” cried Dorian with a +wild gesture of despair. + +Hallward turned again to the portrait and gazed at it. “My God! If it +is true,” he exclaimed, “and this is what you have done with your life, +why, you must be worse even than those who talk against you fancy you +to be!” He held the light up again to the canvas and examined it. The +surface seemed to be quite undisturbed and as he had left it. It was +from within, apparently, that the foulness and horror had come. Through +some strange quickening of inner life the leprosies of sin were slowly +eating the thing away. The rotting of a corpse in a watery grave was +not so fearful. + +His hand shook, and the candle fell from its socket on the floor and +lay there sputtering. He placed his foot on it and put it out. Then he +flung himself into the rickety chair that was standing by the table and +buried his face in his hands. + +“Good God, Dorian, what a lesson! What an awful lesson!” There was no +answer, but he could hear the young man sobbing at the window. “Pray, +Dorian, pray,” he murmured. “What is it that one was taught to say in +one’s boyhood? ‘Lead us not into temptation. Forgive us our sins. Wash +away our iniquities.’ Let us say that together. The prayer of your +pride has been answered. The prayer of your repentance will be answered +also. I worshipped you too much. I am punished for it. You worshipped +yourself too much. We are both punished.” + +Dorian Gray turned slowly around and looked at him with tear-dimmed +eyes. “It is too late, Basil,” he faltered. + +“It is never too late, Dorian. Let us kneel down and try if we cannot +remember a prayer. Isn’t there a verse somewhere, ‘Though your sins be +as scarlet, yet I will make them as white as snow’?” + +“Those words mean nothing to me now.” + +“Hush! Don’t say that. You have done enough evil in your life. My God! +Don’t you see that accursed thing leering at us?” + +Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable +feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had +been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his +ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred +within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more +than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly +around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced +him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he +had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had +forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing +Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and +turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. +He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind +the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again +and again. + +There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking +with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, +waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice +more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the +floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he +threw the knife on the table, and listened. + +He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He +opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely +quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the +balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. +Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in +as he did so. + +The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with +bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been +for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was +slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was +simply asleep. + +How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking +over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind +had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s +tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the +policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on +the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom +gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl +was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and +then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse +voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She +stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The +gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their +black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the +window behind him. + +Having reached the door, he turned the key and opened it. He did not +even glance at the murdered man. He felt that the secret of the whole +thing was not to realize the situation. The friend who had painted the +fatal portrait to which all his misery had been due had gone out of his +life. That was enough. + +Then he remembered the lamp. It was a rather curious one of Moorish +workmanship, made of dull silver inlaid with arabesques of burnished +steel, and studded with coarse turquoises. Perhaps it might be missed +by his servant, and questions would be asked. He hesitated for a +moment, then he turned back and took it from the table. He could not +help seeing the dead thing. How still it was! How horribly white the +long hands looked! It was like a dreadful wax image. + +Having locked the door behind him, he crept quietly downstairs. The +woodwork creaked and seemed to cry out as if in pain. He stopped +several times and waited. No: everything was still. It was merely the +sound of his own footsteps. + +When he reached the library, he saw the bag and coat in the corner. +They must be hidden away somewhere. He unlocked a secret press that was +in the wainscoting, a press in which he kept his own curious disguises, +and put them into it. He could easily burn them afterwards. Then he +pulled out his watch. It was twenty minutes to two. + +He sat down and began to think. Every year—every month, almost—men were +strangled in England for what he had done. There had been a madness of +murder in the air. Some red star had come too close to the earth.... +And yet, what evidence was there against him? Basil Hallward had left +the house at eleven. No one had seen him come in again. Most of the +servants were at Selby Royal. His valet had gone to bed.... Paris! Yes. +It was to Paris that Basil had gone, and by the midnight train, as he +had intended. With his curious reserved habits, it would be months +before any suspicions would be roused. Months! Everything could be +destroyed long before then. + +A sudden thought struck him. He put on his fur coat and hat and went +out into the hall. There he paused, hearing the slow heavy tread of the +policeman on the pavement outside and seeing the flash of the +bull’s-eye reflected in the window. He waited and held his breath. + +After a few moments he drew back the latch and slipped out, shutting +the door very gently behind him. Then he began ringing the bell. In +about five minutes his valet appeared, half-dressed and looking very +drowsy. + +“I am sorry to have had to wake you up, Francis,” he said, stepping in; +“but I had forgotten my latch-key. What time is it?” + +“Ten minutes past two, sir,” answered the man, looking at the clock and +blinking. + +“Ten minutes past two? How horribly late! You must wake me at nine +to-morrow. I have some work to do.” + +“All right, sir.” + +“Did any one call this evening?” + +“Mr. Hallward, sir. He stayed here till eleven, and then he went away +to catch his train.” + +“Oh! I am sorry I didn’t see him. Did he leave any message?” + +“No, sir, except that he would write to you from Paris, if he did not +find you at the club.” + +“That will do, Francis. Don’t forget to call me at nine to-morrow.” + +“No, sir.” + +The man shambled down the passage in his slippers. + +Dorian Gray threw his hat and coat upon the table and passed into the +library. For a quarter of an hour he walked up and down the room, +biting his lip and thinking. Then he took down the Blue Book from one +of the shelves and began to turn over the leaves. “Alan Campbell, 152, +Hertford Street, Mayfair.” Yes; that was the man he wanted. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +At nine o’clock the next morning his servant came in with a cup of +chocolate on a tray and opened the shutters. Dorian was sleeping quite +peacefully, lying on his right side, with one hand underneath his +cheek. He looked like a boy who had been tired out with play, or study. + +The man had to touch him twice on the shoulder before he woke, and as +he opened his eyes a faint smile passed across his lips, as though he +had been lost in some delightful dream. Yet he had not dreamed at all. +His night had been untroubled by any images of pleasure or of pain. But +youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms. + +He turned round, and leaning upon his elbow, began to sip his +chocolate. The mellow November sun came streaming into the room. The +sky was bright, and there was a genial warmth in the air. It was almost +like a morning in May. + +Gradually the events of the preceding night crept with silent, +blood-stained feet into his brain and reconstructed themselves there +with terrible distinctness. He winced at the memory of all that he had +suffered, and for a moment the same curious feeling of loathing for +Basil Hallward that had made him kill him as he sat in the chair came +back to him, and he grew cold with passion. The dead man was still +sitting there, too, and in the sunlight now. How horrible that was! +Such hideous things were for the darkness, not for the day. + +He felt that if he brooded on what he had gone through he would sicken +or grow mad. There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory +than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride +more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of +joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the +senses. But this was not one of them. It was a thing to be driven out +of the mind, to be drugged with poppies, to be strangled lest it might +strangle one itself. + +When the half-hour struck, he passed his hand across his forehead, and +then got up hastily and dressed himself with even more than his usual +care, giving a good deal of attention to the choice of his necktie and +scarf-pin and changing his rings more than once. He spent a long time +also over breakfast, tasting the various dishes, talking to his valet +about some new liveries that he was thinking of getting made for the +servants at Selby, and going through his correspondence. At some of the +letters, he smiled. Three of them bored him. One he read several times +over and then tore up with a slight look of annoyance in his face. +“That awful thing, a woman’s memory!” as Lord Henry had once said. + +After he had drunk his cup of black coffee, he wiped his lips slowly +with a napkin, motioned to his servant to wait, and going over to the +table, sat down and wrote two letters. One he put in his pocket, the +other he handed to the valet. + +“Take this round to 152, Hertford Street, Francis, and if Mr. Campbell +is out of town, get his address.” + +As soon as he was alone, he lit a cigarette and began sketching upon a +piece of paper, drawing first flowers and bits of architecture, and +then human faces. Suddenly he remarked that every face that he drew +seemed to have a fantastic likeness to Basil Hallward. He frowned, and +getting up, went over to the book-case and took out a volume at hazard. +He was determined that he would not think about what had happened until +it became absolutely necessary that he should do so. + +When he had stretched himself on the sofa, he looked at the title-page +of the book. It was Gautier’s “Émaux et Camées”, Charpentier’s +Japanese-paper edition, with the Jacquemart etching. The binding was of +citron-green leather, with a design of gilt trellis-work and dotted +pomegranates. It had been given to him by Adrian Singleton. As he +turned over the pages, his eye fell on the poem about the hand of +Lacenaire, the cold yellow hand “_du supplice encore mal lavée_,” with +its downy red hairs and its “_doigts de faune_.” He glanced at his own +white taper fingers, shuddering slightly in spite of himself, and +passed on, till he came to those lovely stanzas upon Venice: + +Sur une gamme chromatique, + Le sein de perles ruisselant, +La Vénus de l’Adriatique + Sort de l’eau son corps rose et blanc. + +Les dômes, sur l’azur des ondes + Suivant la phrase au pur contour, +S’enflent comme des gorges rondes + Que soulève un soupir d’amour. + +L’esquif aborde et me dépose, + Jetant son amarre au pilier, +Devant une façade rose, + Sur le marbre d’un escalier. + + +How exquisite they were! As one read them, one seemed to be floating +down the green water-ways of the pink and pearl city, seated in a black +gondola with silver prow and trailing curtains. The mere lines looked +to him like those straight lines of turquoise-blue that follow one as +one pushes out to the Lido. The sudden flashes of colour reminded him +of the gleam of the opal-and-iris-throated birds that flutter round the +tall honeycombed Campanile, or stalk, with such stately grace, through +the dim, dust-stained arcades. Leaning back with half-closed eyes, he +kept saying over and over to himself: + +“Devant une façade rose, +Sur le marbre d’un escalier.” + + +The whole of Venice was in those two lines. He remembered the autumn +that he had passed there, and a wonderful love that had stirred him to +mad delightful follies. There was romance in every place. But Venice, +like Oxford, had kept the background for romance, and, to the true +romantic, background was everything, or almost everything. Basil had +been with him part of the time, and had gone wild over Tintoret. Poor +Basil! What a horrible way for a man to die! + +He sighed, and took up the volume again, and tried to forget. He read +of the swallows that fly in and out of the little _café_ at Smyrna +where the Hadjis sit counting their amber beads and the turbaned +merchants smoke their long tasselled pipes and talk gravely to each +other; he read of the Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde that weeps +tears of granite in its lonely sunless exile and longs to be back by +the hot, lotus-covered Nile, where there are Sphinxes, and rose-red +ibises, and white vultures with gilded claws, and crocodiles with small +beryl eyes that crawl over the green steaming mud; he began to brood +over those verses which, drawing music from kiss-stained marble, tell +of that curious statue that Gautier compares to a contralto voice, the +“_monstre charmant_” that couches in the porphyry-room of the Louvre. +But after a time the book fell from his hand. He grew nervous, and a +horrible fit of terror came over him. What if Alan Campbell should be +out of England? Days would elapse before he could come back. Perhaps he +might refuse to come. What could he do then? Every moment was of vital +importance. + +They had been great friends once, five years before—almost inseparable, +indeed. Then the intimacy had come suddenly to an end. When they met in +society now, it was only Dorian Gray who smiled: Alan Campbell never +did. + +He was an extremely clever young man, though he had no real +appreciation of the visible arts, and whatever little sense of the +beauty of poetry he possessed he had gained entirely from Dorian. His +dominant intellectual passion was for science. At Cambridge he had +spent a great deal of his time working in the laboratory, and had taken +a good class in the Natural Science Tripos of his year. Indeed, he was +still devoted to the study of chemistry, and had a laboratory of his +own in which he used to shut himself up all day long, greatly to the +annoyance of his mother, who had set her heart on his standing for +Parliament and had a vague idea that a chemist was a person who made up +prescriptions. He was an excellent musician, however, as well, and +played both the violin and the piano better than most amateurs. In +fact, it was music that had first brought him and Dorian Gray +together—music and that indefinable attraction that Dorian seemed to be +able to exercise whenever he wished—and, indeed, exercised often +without being conscious of it. They had met at Lady Berkshire’s the +night that Rubinstein played there, and after that used to be always +seen together at the opera and wherever good music was going on. For +eighteen months their intimacy lasted. Campbell was always either at +Selby Royal or in Grosvenor Square. To him, as to many others, Dorian +Gray was the type of everything that is wonderful and fascinating in +life. Whether or not a quarrel had taken place between them no one ever +knew. But suddenly people remarked that they scarcely spoke when they +met and that Campbell seemed always to go away early from any party at +which Dorian Gray was present. He had changed, too—was strangely +melancholy at times, appeared almost to dislike hearing music, and +would never himself play, giving as his excuse, when he was called +upon, that he was so absorbed in science that he had no time left in +which to practise. And this was certainly true. Every day he seemed to +become more interested in biology, and his name appeared once or twice +in some of the scientific reviews in connection with certain curious +experiments. + +This was the man Dorian Gray was waiting for. Every second he kept +glancing at the clock. As the minutes went by he became horribly +agitated. At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, +looking like a beautiful caged thing. He took long stealthy strides. +His hands were curiously cold. + +The suspense became unbearable. Time seemed to him to be crawling with +feet of lead, while he by monstrous winds was being swept towards the +jagged edge of some black cleft of precipice. He knew what was waiting +for him there; saw it, indeed, and, shuddering, crushed with dank hands +his burning lids as though he would have robbed the very brain of sight +and driven the eyeballs back into their cave. It was useless. The brain +had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made +grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, +danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving +masks. Then, suddenly, time stopped for him. Yes: that blind, +slow-breathing thing crawled no more, and horrible thoughts, time being +dead, raced nimbly on in front, and dragged a hideous future from its +grave, and showed it to him. He stared at it. Its very horror made him +stone. + +At last the door opened and his servant entered. He turned glazed eyes +upon him. + +“Mr. Campbell, sir,” said the man. + +A sigh of relief broke from his parched lips, and the colour came back +to his cheeks. + +“Ask him to come in at once, Francis.” He felt that he was himself +again. His mood of cowardice had passed away. + +The man bowed and retired. In a few moments, Alan Campbell walked in, +looking very stern and rather pale, his pallor being intensified by his +coal-black hair and dark eyebrows. + +“Alan! This is kind of you. I thank you for coming.” + +“I had intended never to enter your house again, Gray. But you said it +was a matter of life and death.” His voice was hard and cold. He spoke +with slow deliberation. There was a look of contempt in the steady +searching gaze that he turned on Dorian. He kept his hands in the +pockets of his Astrakhan coat, and seemed not to have noticed the +gesture with which he had been greeted. + +“Yes: it is a matter of life and death, Alan, and to more than one +person. Sit down.” + +Campbell took a chair by the table, and Dorian sat opposite to him. The +two men’s eyes met. In Dorian’s there was infinite pity. He knew that +what he was going to do was dreadful. + +After a strained moment of silence, he leaned across and said, very +quietly, but watching the effect of each word upon the face of him he +had sent for, “Alan, in a locked room at the top of this house, a room +to which nobody but myself has access, a dead man is seated at a table. +He has been dead ten hours now. Don’t stir, and don’t look at me like +that. Who the man is, why he died, how he died, are matters that do not +concern you. What you have to do is this—” + +“Stop, Gray. I don’t want to know anything further. Whether what you +have told me is true or not true doesn’t concern me. I entirely decline +to be mixed up in your life. Keep your horrible secrets to yourself. +They don’t interest me any more.” + +“Alan, they will have to interest you. This one will have to interest +you. I am awfully sorry for you, Alan. But I can’t help myself. You are +the one man who is able to save me. I am forced to bring you into the +matter. I have no option. Alan, you are scientific. You know about +chemistry and things of that kind. You have made experiments. What you +have got to do is to destroy the thing that is upstairs—to destroy it +so that not a vestige of it will be left. Nobody saw this person come +into the house. Indeed, at the present moment he is supposed to be in +Paris. He will not be missed for months. When he is missed, there must +be no trace of him found here. You, Alan, you must change him, and +everything that belongs to him, into a handful of ashes that I may +scatter in the air.” + +“You are mad, Dorian.” + +“Ah! I was waiting for you to call me Dorian.” + +“You are mad, I tell you—mad to imagine that I would raise a finger to +help you, mad to make this monstrous confession. I will have nothing to +do with this matter, whatever it is. Do you think I am going to peril +my reputation for you? What is it to me what devil’s work you are up +to?” + +“It was suicide, Alan.” + +“I am glad of that. But who drove him to it? You, I should fancy.” + +“Do you still refuse to do this for me?” + +“Of course I refuse. I will have absolutely nothing to do with it. I +don’t care what shame comes on you. You deserve it all. I should not be +sorry to see you disgraced, publicly disgraced. How dare you ask me, of +all men in the world, to mix myself up in this horror? I should have +thought you knew more about people’s characters. Your friend Lord Henry +Wotton can’t have taught you much about psychology, whatever else he +has taught you. Nothing will induce me to stir a step to help you. You +have come to the wrong man. Go to some of your friends. Don’t come to +me.” + +“Alan, it was murder. I killed him. You don’t know what he had made me +suffer. Whatever my life is, he had more to do with the making or the +marring of it than poor Harry has had. He may not have intended it, the +result was the same.” + +“Murder! Good God, Dorian, is that what you have come to? I shall not +inform upon you. It is not my business. Besides, without my stirring in +the matter, you are certain to be arrested. Nobody ever commits a crime +without doing something stupid. But I will have nothing to do with it.” + +“You must have something to do with it. Wait, wait a moment; listen to +me. Only listen, Alan. All I ask of you is to perform a certain +scientific experiment. You go to hospitals and dead-houses, and the +horrors that you do there don’t affect you. If in some hideous +dissecting-room or fetid laboratory you found this man lying on a +leaden table with red gutters scooped out in it for the blood to flow +through, you would simply look upon him as an admirable subject. You +would not turn a hair. You would not believe that you were doing +anything wrong. On the contrary, you would probably feel that you were +benefiting the human race, or increasing the sum of knowledge in the +world, or gratifying intellectual curiosity, or something of that kind. +What I want you to do is merely what you have often done before. +Indeed, to destroy a body must be far less horrible than what you are +accustomed to work at. And, remember, it is the only piece of evidence +against me. If it is discovered, I am lost; and it is sure to be +discovered unless you help me.” + +“I have no desire to help you. You forget that. I am simply indifferent +to the whole thing. It has nothing to do with me.” + +“Alan, I entreat you. Think of the position I am in. Just before you +came I almost fainted with terror. You may know terror yourself some +day. No! don’t think of that. Look at the matter purely from the +scientific point of view. You don’t inquire where the dead things on +which you experiment come from. Don’t inquire now. I have told you too +much as it is. But I beg of you to do this. We were friends once, +Alan.” + +“Don’t speak about those days, Dorian—they are dead.” + +“The dead linger sometimes. The man upstairs will not go away. He is +sitting at the table with bowed head and outstretched arms. Alan! Alan! +If you don’t come to my assistance, I am ruined. Why, they will hang +me, Alan! Don’t you understand? They will hang me for what I have +done.” + +“There is no good in prolonging this scene. I absolutely refuse to do +anything in the matter. It is insane of you to ask me.” + +“You refuse?” + +“Yes.” + +“I entreat you, Alan.” + +“It is useless.” + +The same look of pity came into Dorian Gray’s eyes. Then he stretched +out his hand, took a piece of paper, and wrote something on it. He read +it over twice, folded it carefully, and pushed it across the table. +Having done this, he got up and went over to the window. + +Campbell looked at him in surprise, and then took up the paper, and +opened it. As he read it, his face became ghastly pale and he fell back +in his chair. A horrible sense of sickness came over him. He felt as if +his heart was beating itself to death in some empty hollow. + +After two or three minutes of terrible silence, Dorian turned round and +came and stood behind him, putting his hand upon his shoulder. + +“I am so sorry for you, Alan,” he murmured, “but you leave me no +alternative. I have a letter written already. Here it is. You see the +address. If you don’t help me, I must send it. If you don’t help me, I +will send it. You know what the result will be. But you are going to +help me. It is impossible for you to refuse now. I tried to spare you. +You will do me the justice to admit that. You were stern, harsh, +offensive. You treated me as no man has ever dared to treat me—no +living man, at any rate. I bore it all. Now it is for me to dictate +terms.” + +Campbell buried his face in his hands, and a shudder passed through +him. + +“Yes, it is my turn to dictate terms, Alan. You know what they are. The +thing is quite simple. Come, don’t work yourself into this fever. The +thing has to be done. Face it, and do it.” + +A groan broke from Campbell’s lips and he shivered all over. The +ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to him to be dividing +time into separate atoms of agony, each of which was too terrible to be +borne. He felt as if an iron ring was being slowly tightened round his +forehead, as if the disgrace with which he was threatened had already +come upon him. The hand upon his shoulder weighed like a hand of lead. +It was intolerable. It seemed to crush him. + +“Come, Alan, you must decide at once.” + +“I cannot do it,” he said, mechanically, as though words could alter +things. + +“You must. You have no choice. Don’t delay.” + +He hesitated a moment. “Is there a fire in the room upstairs?” + +“Yes, there is a gas-fire with asbestos.” + +“I shall have to go home and get some things from the laboratory.” + +“No, Alan, you must not leave the house. Write out on a sheet of +notepaper what you want and my servant will take a cab and bring the +things back to you.” + +Campbell scrawled a few lines, blotted them, and addressed an envelope +to his assistant. Dorian took the note up and read it carefully. Then +he rang the bell and gave it to his valet, with orders to return as +soon as possible and to bring the things with him. + +As the hall door shut, Campbell started nervously, and having got up +from the chair, went over to the chimney-piece. He was shivering with a +kind of ague. For nearly twenty minutes, neither of the men spoke. A +fly buzzed noisily about the room, and the ticking of the clock was +like the beat of a hammer. + +As the chime struck one, Campbell turned round, and looking at Dorian +Gray, saw that his eyes were filled with tears. There was something in +the purity and refinement of that sad face that seemed to enrage him. +“You are infamous, absolutely infamous!” he muttered. + +“Hush, Alan. You have saved my life,” said Dorian. + +“Your life? Good heavens! what a life that is! You have gone from +corruption to corruption, and now you have culminated in crime. In +doing what I am going to do—what you force me to do—it is not of your +life that I am thinking.” + +“Ah, Alan,” murmured Dorian with a sigh, “I wish you had a thousandth +part of the pity for me that I have for you.” He turned away as he +spoke and stood looking out at the garden. Campbell made no answer. + +After about ten minutes a knock came to the door, and the servant +entered, carrying a large mahogany chest of chemicals, with a long coil +of steel and platinum wire and two rather curiously shaped iron clamps. + +“Shall I leave the things here, sir?” he asked Campbell. + +“Yes,” said Dorian. “And I am afraid, Francis, that I have another +errand for you. What is the name of the man at Richmond who supplies +Selby with orchids?” + +“Harden, sir.” + +“Yes—Harden. You must go down to Richmond at once, see Harden +personally, and tell him to send twice as many orchids as I ordered, +and to have as few white ones as possible. In fact, I don’t want any +white ones. It is a lovely day, Francis, and Richmond is a very pretty +place—otherwise I wouldn’t bother you about it.” + +“No trouble, sir. At what time shall I be back?” + +Dorian looked at Campbell. “How long will your experiment take, Alan?” +he said in a calm indifferent voice. The presence of a third person in +the room seemed to give him extraordinary courage. + +Campbell frowned and bit his lip. “It will take about five hours,” he +answered. + +“It will be time enough, then, if you are back at half-past seven, +Francis. Or stay: just leave my things out for dressing. You can have +the evening to yourself. I am not dining at home, so I shall not want +you.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said the man, leaving the room. + +“Now, Alan, there is not a moment to be lost. How heavy this chest is! +I’ll take it for you. You bring the other things.” He spoke rapidly and +in an authoritative manner. Campbell felt dominated by him. They left +the room together. + +When they reached the top landing, Dorian took out the key and turned +it in the lock. Then he stopped, and a troubled look came into his +eyes. He shuddered. “I don’t think I can go in, Alan,” he murmured. + +“It is nothing to me. I don’t require you,” said Campbell coldly. + +Dorian half opened the door. As he did so, he saw the face of his +portrait leering in the sunlight. On the floor in front of it the torn +curtain was lying. He remembered that the night before he had +forgotten, for the first time in his life, to hide the fatal canvas, +and was about to rush forward, when he drew back with a shudder. + +What was that loathsome red dew that gleamed, wet and glistening, on +one of the hands, as though the canvas had sweated blood? How horrible +it was!—more horrible, it seemed to him for the moment, than the silent +thing that he knew was stretched across the table, the thing whose +grotesque misshapen shadow on the spotted carpet showed him that it had +not stirred, but was still there, as he had left it. + +He heaved a deep breath, opened the door a little wider, and with +half-closed eyes and averted head, walked quickly in, determined that +he would not look even once upon the dead man. Then, stooping down and +taking up the gold-and-purple hanging, he flung it right over the +picture. + +There he stopped, feeling afraid to turn round, and his eyes fixed +themselves on the intricacies of the pattern before him. He heard +Campbell bringing in the heavy chest, and the irons, and the other +things that he had required for his dreadful work. He began to wonder +if he and Basil Hallward had ever met, and, if so, what they had +thought of each other. + +“Leave me now,” said a stern voice behind him. + +He turned and hurried out, just conscious that the dead man had been +thrust back into the chair and that Campbell was gazing into a +glistening yellow face. As he was going downstairs, he heard the key +being turned in the lock. + +It was long after seven when Campbell came back into the library. He +was pale, but absolutely calm. “I have done what you asked me to do,” +he muttered. “And now, good-bye. Let us never see each other again.” + +“You have saved me from ruin, Alan. I cannot forget that,” said Dorian +simply. + +As soon as Campbell had left, he went upstairs. There was a horrible +smell of nitric acid in the room. But the thing that had been sitting +at the table was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +That evening, at eight-thirty, exquisitely dressed and wearing a large +button-hole of Parma violets, Dorian Gray was ushered into Lady +Narborough’s drawing-room by bowing servants. His forehead was +throbbing with maddened nerves, and he felt wildly excited, but his +manner as he bent over his hostess’s hand was as easy and graceful as +ever. Perhaps one never seems so much at one’s ease as when one has to +play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night could +have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any +tragedy of our age. Those finely shaped fingers could never have +clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God +and goodness. He himself could not help wondering at the calm of his +demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a +double life. + +It was a small party, got up rather in a hurry by Lady Narborough, who +was a very clever woman with what Lord Henry used to describe as the +remains of really remarkable ugliness. She had proved an excellent wife +to one of our most tedious ambassadors, and having buried her husband +properly in a marble mausoleum, which she had herself designed, and +married off her daughters to some rich, rather elderly men, she devoted +herself now to the pleasures of French fiction, French cookery, and +French _esprit_ when she could get it. + +Dorian was one of her especial favourites, and she always told him that +she was extremely glad she had not met him in early life. “I know, my +dear, I should have fallen madly in love with you,” she used to say, +“and thrown my bonnet right over the mills for your sake. It is most +fortunate that you were not thought of at the time. As it was, our +bonnets were so unbecoming, and the mills were so occupied in trying to +raise the wind, that I never had even a flirtation with anybody. +However, that was all Narborough’s fault. He was dreadfully +short-sighted, and there is no pleasure in taking in a husband who +never sees anything.” + +Her guests this evening were rather tedious. The fact was, as she +explained to Dorian, behind a very shabby fan, one of her married +daughters had come up quite suddenly to stay with her, and, to make +matters worse, had actually brought her husband with her. “I think it +is most unkind of her, my dear,” she whispered. “Of course I go and +stay with them every summer after I come from Homburg, but then an old +woman like me must have fresh air sometimes, and besides, I really wake +them up. You don’t know what an existence they lead down there. It is +pure unadulterated country life. They get up early, because they have +so much to do, and go to bed early, because they have so little to +think about. There has not been a scandal in the neighbourhood since +the time of Queen Elizabeth, and consequently they all fall asleep +after dinner. You shan’t sit next either of them. You shall sit by me +and amuse me.” + +Dorian murmured a graceful compliment and looked round the room. Yes: +it was certainly a tedious party. Two of the people he had never seen +before, and the others consisted of Ernest Harrowden, one of those +middle-aged mediocrities so common in London clubs who have no enemies, +but are thoroughly disliked by their friends; Lady Ruxton, an +overdressed woman of forty-seven, with a hooked nose, who was always +trying to get herself compromised, but was so peculiarly plain that to +her great disappointment no one would ever believe anything against +her; Mrs. Erlynne, a pushing nobody, with a delightful lisp and +Venetian-red hair; Lady Alice Chapman, his hostess’s daughter, a dowdy +dull girl, with one of those characteristic British faces that, once +seen, are never remembered; and her husband, a red-cheeked, +white-whiskered creature who, like so many of his class, was under the +impression that inordinate joviality can atone for an entire lack of +ideas. + +He was rather sorry he had come, till Lady Narborough, looking at the +great ormolu gilt clock that sprawled in gaudy curves on the +mauve-draped mantelshelf, exclaimed: “How horrid of Henry Wotton to be +so late! I sent round to him this morning on chance and he promised +faithfully not to disappoint me.” + +It was some consolation that Harry was to be there, and when the door +opened and he heard his slow musical voice lending charm to some +insincere apology, he ceased to feel bored. + +But at dinner he could not eat anything. Plate after plate went away +untasted. Lady Narborough kept scolding him for what she called “an +insult to poor Adolphe, who invented the _menu_ specially for you,” and +now and then Lord Henry looked across at him, wondering at his silence +and abstracted manner. From time to time the butler filled his glass +with champagne. He drank eagerly, and his thirst seemed to increase. + +“Dorian,” said Lord Henry at last, as the _chaud-froid_ was being +handed round, “what is the matter with you to-night? You are quite out +of sorts.” + +“I believe he is in love,” cried Lady Narborough, “and that he is +afraid to tell me for fear I should be jealous. He is quite right. I +certainly should.” + +“Dear Lady Narborough,” murmured Dorian, smiling, “I have not been in +love for a whole week—not, in fact, since Madame de Ferrol left town.” + +“How you men can fall in love with that woman!” exclaimed the old lady. +“I really cannot understand it.” + +“It is simply because she remembers you when you were a little girl, +Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry. “She is the one link between us and +your short frocks.” + +“She does not remember my short frocks at all, Lord Henry. But I +remember her very well at Vienna thirty years ago, and how _décolletée_ +she was then.” + +“She is still _décolletée_,” he answered, taking an olive in his long +fingers; “and when she is in a very smart gown she looks like an +_édition de luxe_ of a bad French novel. She is really wonderful, and +full of surprises. Her capacity for family affection is extraordinary. +When her third husband died, her hair turned quite gold from grief.” + +“How can you, Harry!” cried Dorian. + +“It is a most romantic explanation,” laughed the hostess. “But her +third husband, Lord Henry! You don’t mean to say Ferrol is the fourth?” + +“Certainly, Lady Narborough.” + +“I don’t believe a word of it.” + +“Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her most intimate friends.” + +“Is it true, Mr. Gray?” + +“She assures me so, Lady Narborough,” said Dorian. “I asked her +whether, like Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts embalmed and +hung at her girdle. She told me she didn’t, because none of them had +had any hearts at all.” + +“Four husbands! Upon my word that is _trop de zêle_.” + +“_Trop d’audace_, I tell her,” said Dorian. + +“Oh! she is audacious enough for anything, my dear. And what is Ferrol +like? I don’t know him.” + +“The husbands of very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes,” +said Lord Henry, sipping his wine. + +Lady Narborough hit him with her fan. “Lord Henry, I am not at all +surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked.” + +“But what world says that?” asked Lord Henry, elevating his eyebrows. +“It can only be the next world. This world and I are on excellent +terms.” + +“Everybody I know says you are very wicked,” cried the old lady, +shaking her head. + +Lord Henry looked serious for some moments. “It is perfectly +monstrous,” he said, at last, “the way people go about nowadays saying +things against one behind one’s back that are absolutely and entirely +true.” + +“Isn’t he incorrigible?” cried Dorian, leaning forward in his chair. + +“I hope so,” said his hostess, laughing. “But really, if you all +worship Madame de Ferrol in this ridiculous way, I shall have to marry +again so as to be in the fashion.” + +“You will never marry again, Lady Narborough,” broke in Lord Henry. +“You were far too happy. When a woman marries again, it is because she +detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he +adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.” + +“Narborough wasn’t perfect,” cried the old lady. + +“If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady,” was the +rejoinder. “Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, +they will forgive us everything, even our intellects. You will never +ask me to dinner again after saying this, I am afraid, Lady Narborough, +but it is quite true.” + +“Of course it is true, Lord Henry. If we women did not love you for +your defects, where would you all be? Not one of you would ever be +married. You would be a set of unfortunate bachelors. Not, however, +that that would alter you much. Nowadays all the married men live like +bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men.” + +“_Fin de siêcle_,” murmured Lord Henry. + +“_Fin du globe_,” answered his hostess. + +“I wish it were _fin du globe_,” said Dorian with a sigh. “Life is a +great disappointment.” + +“Ah, my dear,” cried Lady Narborough, putting on her gloves, “don’t +tell me that you have exhausted life. When a man says that one knows +that life has exhausted him. Lord Henry is very wicked, and I sometimes +wish that I had been; but you are made to be good—you look so good. I +must find you a nice wife. Lord Henry, don’t you think that Mr. Gray +should get married?” + +“I am always telling him so, Lady Narborough,” said Lord Henry with a +bow. + +“Well, we must look out for a suitable match for him. I shall go +through Debrett carefully to-night and draw out a list of all the +eligible young ladies.” + +“With their ages, Lady Narborough?” asked Dorian. + +“Of course, with their ages, slightly edited. But nothing must be done +in a hurry. I want it to be what _The Morning Post_ calls a suitable +alliance, and I want you both to be happy.” + +“What nonsense people talk about happy marriages!” exclaimed Lord +Henry. “A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love +her.” + +“Ah! what a cynic you are!” cried the old lady, pushing back her chair +and nodding to Lady Ruxton. “You must come and dine with me soon again. +You are really an admirable tonic, much better than what Sir Andrew +prescribes for me. You must tell me what people you would like to meet, +though. I want it to be a delightful gathering.” + +“I like men who have a future and women who have a past,” he answered. +“Or do you think that would make it a petticoat party?” + +“I fear so,” she said, laughing, as she stood up. “A thousand pardons, +my dear Lady Ruxton,” she added, “I didn’t see you hadn’t finished your +cigarette.” + +“Never mind, Lady Narborough. I smoke a great deal too much. I am going +to limit myself, for the future.” + +“Pray don’t, Lady Ruxton,” said Lord Henry. “Moderation is a fatal +thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as good as a +feast.” + +Lady Ruxton glanced at him curiously. “You must come and explain that +to me some afternoon, Lord Henry. It sounds a fascinating theory,” she +murmured, as she swept out of the room. + +“Now, mind you don’t stay too long over your politics and scandal,” +cried Lady Narborough from the door. “If you do, we are sure to +squabble upstairs.” + +The men laughed, and Mr. Chapman got up solemnly from the foot of the +table and came up to the top. Dorian Gray changed his seat and went and +sat by Lord Henry. Mr. Chapman began to talk in a loud voice about the +situation in the House of Commons. He guffawed at his adversaries. The +word _doctrinaire_—word full of terror to the British mind—reappeared +from time to time between his explosions. An alliterative prefix served +as an ornament of oratory. He hoisted the Union Jack on the pinnacles +of thought. The inherited stupidity of the race—sound English common +sense he jovially termed it—was shown to be the proper bulwark for +society. + +A smile curved Lord Henry’s lips, and he turned round and looked at +Dorian. + +“Are you better, my dear fellow?” he asked. “You seemed rather out of +sorts at dinner.” + +“I am quite well, Harry. I am tired. That is all.” + +“You were charming last night. The little duchess is quite devoted to +you. She tells me she is going down to Selby.” + +“She has promised to come on the twentieth.” + +“Is Monmouth to be there, too?” + +“Oh, yes, Harry.” + +“He bores me dreadfully, almost as much as he bores her. She is very +clever, too clever for a woman. She lacks the indefinable charm of +weakness. It is the feet of clay that make the gold of the image +precious. Her feet are very pretty, but they are not feet of clay. +White porcelain feet, if you like. They have been through the fire, and +what fire does not destroy, it hardens. She has had experiences.” + +“How long has she been married?” asked Dorian. + +“An eternity, she tells me. I believe, according to the peerage, it is +ten years, but ten years with Monmouth must have been like eternity, +with time thrown in. Who else is coming?” + +“Oh, the Willoughbys, Lord Rugby and his wife, our hostess, Geoffrey +Clouston, the usual set. I have asked Lord Grotrian.” + +“I like him,” said Lord Henry. “A great many people don’t, but I find +him charming. He atones for being occasionally somewhat overdressed by +being always absolutely over-educated. He is a very modern type.” + +“I don’t know if he will be able to come, Harry. He may have to go to +Monte Carlo with his father.” + +“Ah! what a nuisance people’s people are! Try and make him come. By the +way, Dorian, you ran off very early last night. You left before eleven. +What did you do afterwards? Did you go straight home?” + +Dorian glanced at him hurriedly and frowned. + +“No, Harry,” he said at last, “I did not get home till nearly three.” + +“Did you go to the club?” + +“Yes,” he answered. Then he bit his lip. “No, I don’t mean that. I +didn’t go to the club. I walked about. I forget what I did.... How +inquisitive you are, Harry! You always want to know what one has been +doing. I always want to forget what I have been doing. I came in at +half-past two, if you wish to know the exact time. I had left my +latch-key at home, and my servant had to let me in. If you want any +corroborative evidence on the subject, you can ask him.” + +Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. “My dear fellow, as if I cared! Let +us go up to the drawing-room. No sherry, thank you, Mr. Chapman. +Something has happened to you, Dorian. Tell me what it is. You are not +yourself to-night.” + +“Don’t mind me, Harry. I am irritable, and out of temper. I shall come +round and see you to-morrow, or next day. Make my excuses to Lady +Narborough. I shan’t go upstairs. I shall go home. I must go home.” + +“All right, Dorian. I dare say I shall see you to-morrow at tea-time. +The duchess is coming.” + +“I will try to be there, Harry,” he said, leaving the room. As he drove +back to his own house, he was conscious that the sense of terror he +thought he had strangled had come back to him. Lord Henry’s casual +questioning had made him lose his nerve for the moment, and he wanted +his nerve still. Things that were dangerous had to be destroyed. He +winced. He hated the idea of even touching them. + +Yet it had to be done. He realized that, and when he had locked the +door of his library, he opened the secret press into which he had +thrust Basil Hallward’s coat and bag. A huge fire was blazing. He piled +another log on it. The smell of the singeing clothes and burning +leather was horrible. It took him three-quarters of an hour to consume +everything. At the end he felt faint and sick, and having lit some +Algerian pastilles in a pierced copper brazier, he bathed his hands and +forehead with a cool musk-scented vinegar. + +Suddenly he started. His eyes grew strangely bright, and he gnawed +nervously at his underlip. Between two of the windows stood a large +Florentine cabinet, made out of ebony and inlaid with ivory and blue +lapis. He watched it as though it were a thing that could fascinate and +make afraid, as though it held something that he longed for and yet +almost loathed. His breath quickened. A mad craving came over him. He +lit a cigarette and then threw it away. His eyelids drooped till the +long fringed lashes almost touched his cheek. But he still watched the +cabinet. At last he got up from the sofa on which he had been lying, +went over to it, and having unlocked it, touched some hidden spring. A +triangular drawer passed slowly out. His fingers moved instinctively +towards it, dipped in, and closed on something. It was a small Chinese +box of black and gold-dust lacquer, elaborately wrought, the sides +patterned with curved waves, and the silken cords hung with round +crystals and tasselled in plaited metal threads. He opened it. Inside +was a green paste, waxy in lustre, the odour curiously heavy and +persistent. + +He hesitated for some moments, with a strangely immobile smile upon his +face. Then shivering, though the atmosphere of the room was terribly +hot, he drew himself up and glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes +to twelve. He put the box back, shutting the cabinet doors as he did +so, and went into his bedroom. + +As midnight was striking bronze blows upon the dusky air, Dorian Gray, +dressed commonly, and with a muffler wrapped round his throat, crept +quietly out of his house. In Bond Street he found a hansom with a good +horse. He hailed it and in a low voice gave the driver an address. + +The man shook his head. “It is too far for me,” he muttered. + +“Here is a sovereign for you,” said Dorian. “You shall have another if +you drive fast.” + +“All right, sir,” answered the man, “you will be there in an hour,” and +after his fare had got in he turned his horse round and drove rapidly +towards the river. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +A cold rain began to fall, and the blurred street-lamps looked ghastly +in the dripping mist. The public-houses were just closing, and dim men +and women were clustering in broken groups round their doors. From some +of the bars came the sound of horrible laughter. In others, drunkards +brawled and screamed. + +Lying back in the hansom, with his hat pulled over his forehead, Dorian +Gray watched with listless eyes the sordid shame of the great city, and +now and then he repeated to himself the words that Lord Henry had said +to him on the first day they had met, “To cure the soul by means of the +senses, and the senses by means of the soul.” Yes, that was the secret. +He had often tried it, and would try it again now. There were opium +dens where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the memory of +old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new. + +The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull. From time to time a +huge misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across and hid it. The +gas-lamps grew fewer, and the streets more narrow and gloomy. Once the +man lost his way and had to drive back half a mile. A steam rose from +the horse as it splashed up the puddles. The sidewindows of the hansom +were clogged with a grey-flannel mist. + +“To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of +the soul!” How the words rang in his ears! His soul, certainly, was +sick to death. Was it true that the senses could cure it? Innocent +blood had been spilled. What could atone for that? Ah! for that there +was no atonement; but though forgiveness was impossible, forgetfulness +was possible still, and he was determined to forget, to stamp the thing +out, to crush it as one would crush the adder that had stung one. +Indeed, what right had Basil to have spoken to him as he had done? Who +had made him a judge over others? He had said things that were +dreadful, horrible, not to be endured. + +On and on plodded the hansom, going slower, it seemed to him, at each +step. He thrust up the trap and called to the man to drive faster. The +hideous hunger for opium began to gnaw at him. His throat burned and +his delicate hands twitched nervously together. He struck at the horse +madly with his stick. The driver laughed and whipped up. He laughed in +answer, and the man was silent. + +The way seemed interminable, and the streets like the black web of some +sprawling spider. The monotony became unbearable, and as the mist +thickened, he felt afraid. + +Then they passed by lonely brickfields. The fog was lighter here, and +he could see the strange, bottle-shaped kilns with their orange, +fanlike tongues of fire. A dog barked as they went by, and far away in +the darkness some wandering sea-gull screamed. The horse stumbled in a +rut, then swerved aside and broke into a gallop. + +After some time they left the clay road and rattled again over +rough-paven streets. Most of the windows were dark, but now and then +fantastic shadows were silhouetted against some lamplit blind. He +watched them curiously. They moved like monstrous marionettes and made +gestures like live things. He hated them. A dull rage was in his heart. +As they turned a corner, a woman yelled something at them from an open +door, and two men ran after the hansom for about a hundred yards. The +driver beat at them with his whip. + +It is said that passion makes one think in a circle. Certainly with +hideous iteration the bitten lips of Dorian Gray shaped and reshaped +those subtle words that dealt with soul and sense, till he had found in +them the full expression, as it were, of his mood, and justified, by +intellectual approval, passions that without such justification would +still have dominated his temper. From cell to cell of his brain crept +the one thought; and the wild desire to live, most terrible of all +man’s appetites, quickened into force each trembling nerve and fibre. +Ugliness that had once been hateful to him because it made things real, +became dear to him now for that very reason. Ugliness was the one +reality. The coarse brawl, the loathsome den, the crude violence of +disordered life, the very vileness of thief and outcast, were more +vivid, in their intense actuality of impression, than all the gracious +shapes of art, the dreamy shadows of song. They were what he needed for +forgetfulness. In three days he would be free. + +Suddenly the man drew up with a jerk at the top of a dark lane. Over +the low roofs and jagged chimney-stacks of the houses rose the black +masts of ships. Wreaths of white mist clung like ghostly sails to the +yards. + +“Somewhere about here, sir, ain’t it?” he asked huskily through the +trap. + +Dorian started and peered round. “This will do,” he answered, and +having got out hastily and given the driver the extra fare he had +promised him, he walked quickly in the direction of the quay. Here and +there a lantern gleamed at the stern of some huge merchantman. The +light shook and splintered in the puddles. A red glare came from an +outward-bound steamer that was coaling. The slimy pavement looked like +a wet mackintosh. + +He hurried on towards the left, glancing back now and then to see if he +was being followed. In about seven or eight minutes he reached a small +shabby house that was wedged in between two gaunt factories. In one of +the top-windows stood a lamp. He stopped and gave a peculiar knock. + +After a little time he heard steps in the passage and the chain being +unhooked. The door opened quietly, and he went in without saying a word +to the squat misshapen figure that flattened itself into the shadow as +he passed. At the end of the hall hung a tattered green curtain that +swayed and shook in the gusty wind which had followed him in from the +street. He dragged it aside and entered a long low room which looked as +if it had once been a third-rate dancing-saloon. Shrill flaring +gas-jets, dulled and distorted in the fly-blown mirrors that faced +them, were ranged round the walls. Greasy reflectors of ribbed tin +backed them, making quivering disks of light. The floor was covered +with ochre-coloured sawdust, trampled here and there into mud, and +stained with dark rings of spilled liquor. Some Malays were crouching +by a little charcoal stove, playing with bone counters and showing +their white teeth as they chattered. In one corner, with his head +buried in his arms, a sailor sprawled over a table, and by the tawdrily +painted bar that ran across one complete side stood two haggard women, +mocking an old man who was brushing the sleeves of his coat with an +expression of disgust. “He thinks he’s got red ants on him,” laughed +one of them, as Dorian passed by. The man looked at her in terror and +began to whimper. + +At the end of the room there was a little staircase, leading to a +darkened chamber. As Dorian hurried up its three rickety steps, the +heavy odour of opium met him. He heaved a deep breath, and his nostrils +quivered with pleasure. When he entered, a young man with smooth yellow +hair, who was bending over a lamp lighting a long thin pipe, looked up +at him and nodded in a hesitating manner. + +“You here, Adrian?” muttered Dorian. + +“Where else should I be?” he answered, listlessly. “None of the chaps +will speak to me now.” + +“I thought you had left England.” + +“Darlington is not going to do anything. My brother paid the bill at +last. George doesn’t speak to me either.... I don’t care,” he added +with a sigh. “As long as one has this stuff, one doesn’t want friends. +I think I have had too many friends.” + +Dorian winced and looked round at the grotesque things that lay in such +fantastic postures on the ragged mattresses. The twisted limbs, the +gaping mouths, the staring lustreless eyes, fascinated him. He knew in +what strange heavens they were suffering, and what dull hells were +teaching them the secret of some new joy. They were better off than he +was. He was prisoned in thought. Memory, like a horrible malady, was +eating his soul away. From time to time he seemed to see the eyes of +Basil Hallward looking at him. Yet he felt he could not stay. The +presence of Adrian Singleton troubled him. He wanted to be where no one +would know who he was. He wanted to escape from himself. + +“I am going on to the other place,” he said after a pause. + +“On the wharf?” + +“Yes.” + +“That mad-cat is sure to be there. They won’t have her in this place +now.” + +Dorian shrugged his shoulders. “I am sick of women who love one. Women +who hate one are much more interesting. Besides, the stuff is better.” + +“Much the same.” + +“I like it better. Come and have something to drink. I must have +something.” + +“I don’t want anything,” murmured the young man. + +“Never mind.” + +Adrian Singleton rose up wearily and followed Dorian to the bar. A +half-caste, in a ragged turban and a shabby ulster, grinned a hideous +greeting as he thrust a bottle of brandy and two tumblers in front of +them. The women sidled up and began to chatter. Dorian turned his back +on them and said something in a low voice to Adrian Singleton. + +A crooked smile, like a Malay crease, writhed across the face of one of +the women. “We are very proud to-night,” she sneered. + +“For God’s sake don’t talk to me,” cried Dorian, stamping his foot on +the ground. “What do you want? Money? Here it is. Don’t ever talk to me +again.” + +Two red sparks flashed for a moment in the woman’s sodden eyes, then +flickered out and left them dull and glazed. She tossed her head and +raked the coins off the counter with greedy fingers. Her companion +watched her enviously. + +“It’s no use,” sighed Adrian Singleton. “I don’t care to go back. What +does it matter? I am quite happy here.” + +“You will write to me if you want anything, won’t you?” said Dorian, +after a pause. + +“Perhaps.” + +“Good night, then.” + +“Good night,” answered the young man, passing up the steps and wiping +his parched mouth with a handkerchief. + +Dorian walked to the door with a look of pain in his face. As he drew +the curtain aside, a hideous laugh broke from the painted lips of the +woman who had taken his money. “There goes the devil’s bargain!” she +hiccoughed, in a hoarse voice. + +“Curse you!” he answered, “don’t call me that.” + +She snapped her fingers. “Prince Charming is what you like to be +called, ain’t it?” she yelled after him. + +The drowsy sailor leaped to his feet as she spoke, and looked wildly +round. The sound of the shutting of the hall door fell on his ear. He +rushed out as if in pursuit. + +Dorian Gray hurried along the quay through the drizzling rain. His +meeting with Adrian Singleton had strangely moved him, and he wondered +if the ruin of that young life was really to be laid at his door, as +Basil Hallward had said to him with such infamy of insult. He bit his +lip, and for a few seconds his eyes grew sad. Yet, after all, what did +it matter to him? One’s days were too brief to take the burden of +another’s errors on one’s shoulders. Each man lived his own life and +paid his own price for living it. The only pity was one had to pay so +often for a single fault. One had to pay over and over again, indeed. +In her dealings with man, destiny never closed her accounts. + +There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or +for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature that every fibre of +the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful +impulses. Men and women at such moments lose the freedom of their will. +They move to their terrible end as automatons move. Choice is taken +from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at all, +lives but to give rebellion its fascination and disobedience its charm. +For all sins, as theologians weary not of reminding us, are sins of +disobedience. When that high spirit, that morning star of evil, fell +from heaven, it was as a rebel that he fell. + +Callous, concentrated on evil, with stained mind, and soul hungry for +rebellion, Dorian Gray hastened on, quickening his step as he went, but +as he darted aside into a dim archway, that had served him often as a +short cut to the ill-famed place where he was going, he felt himself +suddenly seized from behind, and before he had time to defend himself, +he was thrust back against the wall, with a brutal hand round his +throat. + +He struggled madly for life, and by a terrible effort wrenched the +tightening fingers away. In a second he heard the click of a revolver, +and saw the gleam of a polished barrel, pointing straight at his head, +and the dusky form of a short, thick-set man facing him. + +“What do you want?” he gasped. + +“Keep quiet,” said the man. “If you stir, I shoot you.” + +“You are mad. What have I done to you?” + +“You wrecked the life of Sibyl Vane,” was the answer, “and Sibyl Vane +was my sister. She killed herself. I know it. Her death is at your +door. I swore I would kill you in return. For years I have sought you. +I had no clue, no trace. The two people who could have described you +were dead. I knew nothing of you but the pet name she used to call you. +I heard it to-night by chance. Make your peace with God, for to-night +you are going to die.” + +Dorian Gray grew sick with fear. “I never knew her,” he stammered. “I +never heard of her. You are mad.” + +“You had better confess your sin, for as sure as I am James Vane, you +are going to die.” There was a horrible moment. Dorian did not know +what to say or do. “Down on your knees!” growled the man. “I give you +one minute to make your peace—no more. I go on board to-night for +India, and I must do my job first. One minute. That’s all.” + +Dorian’s arms fell to his side. Paralysed with terror, he did not know +what to do. Suddenly a wild hope flashed across his brain. “Stop,” he +cried. “How long ago is it since your sister died? Quick, tell me!” + +“Eighteen years,” said the man. “Why do you ask me? What do years +matter?” + +“Eighteen years,” laughed Dorian Gray, with a touch of triumph in his +voice. “Eighteen years! Set me under the lamp and look at my face!” + +James Vane hesitated for a moment, not understanding what was meant. +Then he seized Dorian Gray and dragged him from the archway. + +Dim and wavering as was the wind-blown light, yet it served to show him +the hideous error, as it seemed, into which he had fallen, for the face +of the man he had sought to kill had all the bloom of boyhood, all the +unstained purity of youth. He seemed little more than a lad of twenty +summers, hardly older, if older indeed at all, than his sister had been +when they had parted so many years ago. It was obvious that this was +not the man who had destroyed her life. + +He loosened his hold and reeled back. “My God! my God!” he cried, “and +I would have murdered you!” + +Dorian Gray drew a long breath. “You have been on the brink of +committing a terrible crime, my man,” he said, looking at him sternly. +“Let this be a warning to you not to take vengeance into your own +hands.” + +“Forgive me, sir,” muttered James Vane. “I was deceived. A chance word +I heard in that damned den set me on the wrong track.” + +“You had better go home and put that pistol away, or you may get into +trouble,” said Dorian, turning on his heel and going slowly down the +street. + +James Vane stood on the pavement in horror. He was trembling from head +to foot. After a little while, a black shadow that had been creeping +along the dripping wall moved out into the light and came close to him +with stealthy footsteps. He felt a hand laid on his arm and looked +round with a start. It was one of the women who had been drinking at +the bar. + +“Why didn’t you kill him?” she hissed out, putting haggard face quite +close to his. “I knew you were following him when you rushed out from +Daly’s. You fool! You should have killed him. He has lots of money, and +he’s as bad as bad.” + +“He is not the man I am looking for,” he answered, “and I want no man’s +money. I want a man’s life. The man whose life I want must be nearly +forty now. This one is little more than a boy. Thank God, I have not +got his blood upon my hands.” + +The woman gave a bitter laugh. “Little more than a boy!” she sneered. +“Why, man, it’s nigh on eighteen years since Prince Charming made me +what I am.” + +“You lie!” cried James Vane. + +She raised her hand up to heaven. “Before God I am telling the truth,” +she cried. + +“Before God?” + +“Strike me dumb if it ain’t so. He is the worst one that comes here. +They say he has sold himself to the devil for a pretty face. It’s nigh +on eighteen years since I met him. He hasn’t changed much since then. I +have, though,” she added, with a sickly leer. + +“You swear this?” + +“I swear it,” came in hoarse echo from her flat mouth. “But don’t give +me away to him,” she whined; “I am afraid of him. Let me have some +money for my night’s lodging.” + +He broke from her with an oath and rushed to the corner of the street, +but Dorian Gray had disappeared. When he looked back, the woman had +vanished also. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +A week later Dorian Gray was sitting in the conservatory at Selby +Royal, talking to the pretty Duchess of Monmouth, who with her husband, +a jaded-looking man of sixty, was amongst his guests. It was tea-time, +and the mellow light of the huge, lace-covered lamp that stood on the +table lit up the delicate china and hammered silver of the service at +which the duchess was presiding. Her white hands were moving daintily +among the cups, and her full red lips were smiling at something that +Dorian had whispered to her. Lord Henry was lying back in a silk-draped +wicker chair, looking at them. On a peach-coloured divan sat Lady +Narborough, pretending to listen to the duke’s description of the last +Brazilian beetle that he had added to his collection. Three young men +in elaborate smoking-suits were handing tea-cakes to some of the women. +The house-party consisted of twelve people, and there were more +expected to arrive on the next day. + +“What are you two talking about?” said Lord Henry, strolling over to +the table and putting his cup down. “I hope Dorian has told you about +my plan for rechristening everything, Gladys. It is a delightful idea.” + +“But I don’t want to be rechristened, Harry,” rejoined the duchess, +looking up at him with her wonderful eyes. “I am quite satisfied with +my own name, and I am sure Mr. Gray should be satisfied with his.” + +“My dear Gladys, I would not alter either name for the world. They are +both perfect. I was thinking chiefly of flowers. Yesterday I cut an +orchid, for my button-hole. It was a marvellous spotted thing, as +effective as the seven deadly sins. In a thoughtless moment I asked one +of the gardeners what it was called. He told me it was a fine specimen +of _Robinsoniana_, or something dreadful of that kind. It is a sad +truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things. +Names are everything. I never quarrel with actions. My one quarrel is +with words. That is the reason I hate vulgar realism in literature. The +man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. It +is the only thing he is fit for.” + +“Then what should we call you, Harry?” she asked. + +“His name is Prince Paradox,” said Dorian. + +“I recognize him in a flash,” exclaimed the duchess. + +“I won’t hear of it,” laughed Lord Henry, sinking into a chair. “From a +label there is no escape! I refuse the title.” + +“Royalties may not abdicate,” fell as a warning from pretty lips. + +“You wish me to defend my throne, then?” + +“Yes.” + +“I give the truths of to-morrow.” + +“I prefer the mistakes of to-day,” she answered. + +“You disarm me, Gladys,” he cried, catching the wilfulness of her mood. + +“Of your shield, Harry, not of your spear.” + +“I never tilt against beauty,” he said, with a wave of his hand. + +“That is your error, Harry, believe me. You value beauty far too much.” + +“How can you say that? I admit that I think that it is better to be +beautiful than to be good. But on the other hand, no one is more ready +than I am to acknowledge that it is better to be good than to be ugly.” + +“Ugliness is one of the seven deadly sins, then?” cried the duchess. +“What becomes of your simile about the orchid?” + +“Ugliness is one of the seven deadly virtues, Gladys. You, as a good +Tory, must not underrate them. Beer, the Bible, and the seven deadly +virtues have made our England what she is.” + +“You don’t like your country, then?” she asked. + +“I live in it.” + +“That you may censure it the better.” + +“Would you have me take the verdict of Europe on it?” he inquired. + +“What do they say of us?” + +“That Tartuffe has emigrated to England and opened a shop.” + +“Is that yours, Harry?” + +“I give it to you.” + +“I could not use it. It is too true.” + +“You need not be afraid. Our countrymen never recognize a description.” + +“They are practical.” + +“They are more cunning than practical. When they make up their ledger, +they balance stupidity by wealth, and vice by hypocrisy.” + +“Still, we have done great things.” + +“Great things have been thrust on us, Gladys.” + +“We have carried their burden.” + +“Only as far as the Stock Exchange.” + +She shook her head. “I believe in the race,” she cried. + +“It represents the survival of the pushing.” + +“It has development.” + +“Decay fascinates me more.” + +“What of art?” she asked. + +“It is a malady.” + +“Love?” + +“An illusion.” + +“Religion?” + +“The fashionable substitute for belief.” + +“You are a sceptic.” + +“Never! Scepticism is the beginning of faith.” + +“What are you?” + +“To define is to limit.” + +“Give me a clue.” + +“Threads snap. You would lose your way in the labyrinth.” + +“You bewilder me. Let us talk of some one else.” + +“Our host is a delightful topic. Years ago he was christened Prince +Charming.” + +“Ah! don’t remind me of that,” cried Dorian Gray. + +“Our host is rather horrid this evening,” answered the duchess, +colouring. “I believe he thinks that Monmouth married me on purely +scientific principles as the best specimen he could find of a modern +butterfly.” + +“Well, I hope he won’t stick pins into you, Duchess,” laughed Dorian. + +“Oh! my maid does that already, Mr. Gray, when she is annoyed with me.” + +“And what does she get annoyed with you about, Duchess?” + +“For the most trivial things, Mr. Gray, I assure you. Usually because I +come in at ten minutes to nine and tell her that I must be dressed by +half-past eight.” + +“How unreasonable of her! You should give her warning.” + +“I daren’t, Mr. Gray. Why, she invents hats for me. You remember the +one I wore at Lady Hilstone’s garden-party? You don’t, but it is nice +of you to pretend that you do. Well, she made it out of nothing. All +good hats are made out of nothing.” + +“Like all good reputations, Gladys,” interrupted Lord Henry. “Every +effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be +a mediocrity.” + +“Not with women,” said the duchess, shaking her head; “and women rule +the world. I assure you we can’t bear mediocrities. We women, as some +one says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if +you ever love at all.” + +“It seems to me that we never do anything else,” murmured Dorian. + +“Ah! then, you never really love, Mr. Gray,” answered the duchess with +mock sadness. + +“My dear Gladys!” cried Lord Henry. “How can you say that? Romance +lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art. +Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved. +Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely +intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, +and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as +possible.” + +“Even when one has been wounded by it, Harry?” asked the duchess after +a pause. + +“Especially when one has been wounded by it,” answered Lord Henry. + +The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression +in her eyes. “What do you say to that, Mr. Gray?” she inquired. + +Dorian hesitated for a moment. Then he threw his head back and laughed. +“I always agree with Harry, Duchess.” + +“Even when he is wrong?” + +“Harry is never wrong, Duchess.” + +“And does his philosophy make you happy?” + +“I have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have +searched for pleasure.” + +“And found it, Mr. Gray?” + +“Often. Too often.” + +The duchess sighed. “I am searching for peace,” she said, “and if I +don’t go and dress, I shall have none this evening.” + +“Let me get you some orchids, Duchess,” cried Dorian, starting to his +feet and walking down the conservatory. + +“You are flirting disgracefully with him,” said Lord Henry to his +cousin. “You had better take care. He is very fascinating.” + +“If he were not, there would be no battle.” + +“Greek meets Greek, then?” + +“I am on the side of the Trojans. They fought for a woman.” + +“They were defeated.” + +“There are worse things than capture,” she answered. + +“You gallop with a loose rein.” + +“Pace gives life,” was the _riposte_. + +“I shall write it in my diary to-night.” + +“What?” + +“That a burnt child loves the fire.” + +“I am not even singed. My wings are untouched.” + +“You use them for everything, except flight.” + +“Courage has passed from men to women. It is a new experience for us.” + +“You have a rival.” + +“Who?” + +He laughed. “Lady Narborough,” he whispered. “She perfectly adores +him.” + +“You fill me with apprehension. The appeal to antiquity is fatal to us +who are romanticists.” + +“Romanticists! You have all the methods of science.” + +“Men have educated us.” + +“But not explained you.” + +“Describe us as a sex,” was her challenge. + +“Sphinxes without secrets.” + +She looked at him, smiling. “How long Mr. Gray is!” she said. “Let us +go and help him. I have not yet told him the colour of my frock.” + +“Ah! you must suit your frock to his flowers, Gladys.” + +“That would be a premature surrender.” + +“Romantic art begins with its climax.” + +“I must keep an opportunity for retreat.” + +“In the Parthian manner?” + +“They found safety in the desert. I could not do that.” + +“Women are not always allowed a choice,” he answered, but hardly had he +finished the sentence before from the far end of the conservatory came +a stifled groan, followed by the dull sound of a heavy fall. Everybody +started up. The duchess stood motionless in horror. And with fear in +his eyes, Lord Henry rushed through the flapping palms to find Dorian +Gray lying face downwards on the tiled floor in a deathlike swoon. + +He was carried at once into the blue drawing-room and laid upon one of +the sofas. After a short time, he came to himself and looked round with +a dazed expression. + +“What has happened?” he asked. “Oh! I remember. Am I safe here, Harry?” +He began to tremble. + +“My dear Dorian,” answered Lord Henry, “you merely fainted. That was +all. You must have overtired yourself. You had better not come down to +dinner. I will take your place.” + +“No, I will come down,” he said, struggling to his feet. “I would +rather come down. I must not be alone.” + +He went to his room and dressed. There was a wild recklessness of +gaiety in his manner as he sat at table, but now and then a thrill of +terror ran through him when he remembered that, pressed against the +window of the conservatory, like a white handkerchief, he had seen the +face of James Vane watching him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The next day he did not leave the house, and, indeed, spent most of the +time in his own room, sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet +indifferent to life itself. The consciousness of being hunted, snared, +tracked down, had begun to dominate him. If the tapestry did but +tremble in the wind, he shook. The dead leaves that were blown against +the leaded panes seemed to him like his own wasted resolutions and wild +regrets. When he closed his eyes, he saw again the sailor’s face +peering through the mist-stained glass, and horror seemed once more to +lay its hand upon his heart. + +But perhaps it had been only his fancy that had called vengeance out of +the night and set the hideous shapes of punishment before him. Actual +life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the +imagination. It was the imagination that set remorse to dog the feet of +sin. It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen +brood. In the common world of fact the wicked were not punished, nor +the good rewarded. Success was given to the strong, failure thrust upon +the weak. That was all. Besides, had any stranger been prowling round +the house, he would have been seen by the servants or the keepers. Had +any foot-marks been found on the flower-beds, the gardeners would have +reported it. Yes, it had been merely fancy. Sibyl Vane’s brother had +not come back to kill him. He had sailed away in his ship to founder in +some winter sea. From him, at any rate, he was safe. Why, the man did +not know who he was, could not know who he was. The mask of youth had +saved him. + +And yet if it had been merely an illusion, how terrible it was to think +that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms, and give them +visible form, and make them move before one! What sort of life would +his be if, day and night, shadows of his crime were to peer at him from +silent corners, to mock him from secret places, to whisper in his ear +as he sat at the feast, to wake him with icy fingers as he lay asleep! +As the thought crept through his brain, he grew pale with terror, and +the air seemed to him to have become suddenly colder. Oh! in what a +wild hour of madness he had killed his friend! How ghastly the mere +memory of the scene! He saw it all again. Each hideous detail came back +to him with added horror. Out of the black cave of time, terrible and +swathed in scarlet, rose the image of his sin. When Lord Henry came in +at six o’clock, he found him crying as one whose heart will break. + +It was not till the third day that he ventured to go out. There was +something in the clear, pine-scented air of that winter morning that +seemed to bring him back his joyousness and his ardour for life. But it +was not merely the physical conditions of environment that had caused +the change. His own nature had revolted against the excess of anguish +that had sought to maim and mar the perfection of its calm. With subtle +and finely wrought temperaments it is always so. Their strong passions +must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, or themselves +die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and sorrows +that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude. Besides, he had +convinced himself that he had been the victim of a terror-stricken +imagination, and looked back now on his fears with something of pity +and not a little of contempt. + +After breakfast, he walked with the duchess for an hour in the garden +and then drove across the park to join the shooting-party. The crisp +frost lay like salt upon the grass. The sky was an inverted cup of blue +metal. A thin film of ice bordered the flat, reed-grown lake. + +At the corner of the pine-wood he caught sight of Sir Geoffrey +Clouston, the duchess’s brother, jerking two spent cartridges out of +his gun. He jumped from the cart, and having told the groom to take the +mare home, made his way towards his guest through the withered bracken +and rough undergrowth. + +“Have you had good sport, Geoffrey?” he asked. + +“Not very good, Dorian. I think most of the birds have gone to the +open. I dare say it will be better after lunch, when we get to new +ground.” + +Dorian strolled along by his side. The keen aromatic air, the brown and +red lights that glimmered in the wood, the hoarse cries of the beaters +ringing out from time to time, and the sharp snaps of the guns that +followed, fascinated him and filled him with a sense of delightful +freedom. He was dominated by the carelessness of happiness, by the high +indifference of joy. + +Suddenly from a lumpy tussock of old grass some twenty yards in front +of them, with black-tipped ears erect and long hinder limbs throwing it +forward, started a hare. It bolted for a thicket of alders. Sir +Geoffrey put his gun to his shoulder, but there was something in the +animal’s grace of movement that strangely charmed Dorian Gray, and he +cried out at once, “Don’t shoot it, Geoffrey. Let it live.” + +“What nonsense, Dorian!” laughed his companion, and as the hare bounded +into the thicket, he fired. There were two cries heard, the cry of a +hare in pain, which is dreadful, the cry of a man in agony, which is +worse. + +“Good heavens! I have hit a beater!” exclaimed Sir Geoffrey. “What an +ass the man was to get in front of the guns! Stop shooting there!” he +called out at the top of his voice. “A man is hurt.” + +The head-keeper came running up with a stick in his hand. + +“Where, sir? Where is he?” he shouted. At the same time, the firing +ceased along the line. + +“Here,” answered Sir Geoffrey angrily, hurrying towards the thicket. +“Why on earth don’t you keep your men back? Spoiled my shooting for the +day.” + +Dorian watched them as they plunged into the alder-clump, brushing the +lithe swinging branches aside. In a few moments they emerged, dragging +a body after them into the sunlight. He turned away in horror. It +seemed to him that misfortune followed wherever he went. He heard Sir +Geoffrey ask if the man was really dead, and the affirmative answer of +the keeper. The wood seemed to him to have become suddenly alive with +faces. There was the trampling of myriad feet and the low buzz of +voices. A great copper-breasted pheasant came beating through the +boughs overhead. + +After a few moments—that were to him, in his perturbed state, like +endless hours of pain—he felt a hand laid on his shoulder. He started +and looked round. + +“Dorian,” said Lord Henry, “I had better tell them that the shooting is +stopped for to-day. It would not look well to go on.” + +“I wish it were stopped for ever, Harry,” he answered bitterly. “The +whole thing is hideous and cruel. Is the man ...?” + +He could not finish the sentence. + +“I am afraid so,” rejoined Lord Henry. “He got the whole charge of shot +in his chest. He must have died almost instantaneously. Come; let us go +home.” + +They walked side by side in the direction of the avenue for nearly +fifty yards without speaking. Then Dorian looked at Lord Henry and +said, with a heavy sigh, “It is a bad omen, Harry, a very bad omen.” + +“What is?” asked Lord Henry. “Oh! this accident, I suppose. My dear +fellow, it can’t be helped. It was the man’s own fault. Why did he get +in front of the guns? Besides, it is nothing to us. It is rather +awkward for Geoffrey, of course. It does not do to pepper beaters. It +makes people think that one is a wild shot. And Geoffrey is not; he +shoots very straight. But there is no use talking about the matter.” + +Dorian shook his head. “It is a bad omen, Harry. I feel as if something +horrible were going to happen to some of us. To myself, perhaps,” he +added, passing his hand over his eyes, with a gesture of pain. + +The elder man laughed. “The only horrible thing in the world is +_ennui_, Dorian. That is the one sin for which there is no forgiveness. +But we are not likely to suffer from it unless these fellows keep +chattering about this thing at dinner. I must tell them that the +subject is to be tabooed. As for omens, there is no such thing as an +omen. Destiny does not send us heralds. She is too wise or too cruel +for that. Besides, what on earth could happen to you, Dorian? You have +everything in the world that a man can want. There is no one who would +not be delighted to change places with you.” + +“There is no one with whom I would not change places, Harry. Don’t +laugh like that. I am telling you the truth. The wretched peasant who +has just died is better off than I am. I have no terror of death. It is +the coming of death that terrifies me. Its monstrous wings seem to +wheel in the leaden air around me. Good heavens! don’t you see a man +moving behind the trees there, watching me, waiting for me?” + +Lord Henry looked in the direction in which the trembling gloved hand +was pointing. “Yes,” he said, smiling, “I see the gardener waiting for +you. I suppose he wants to ask you what flowers you wish to have on the +table to-night. How absurdly nervous you are, my dear fellow! You must +come and see my doctor, when we get back to town.” + +Dorian heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the gardener approaching. The +man touched his hat, glanced for a moment at Lord Henry in a hesitating +manner, and then produced a letter, which he handed to his master. “Her +Grace told me to wait for an answer,” he murmured. + +Dorian put the letter into his pocket. “Tell her Grace that I am coming +in,” he said, coldly. The man turned round and went rapidly in the +direction of the house. + +“How fond women are of doing dangerous things!” laughed Lord Henry. “It +is one of the qualities in them that I admire most. A woman will flirt +with anybody in the world as long as other people are looking on.” + +“How fond you are of saying dangerous things, Harry! In the present +instance, you are quite astray. I like the duchess very much, but I +don’t love her.” + +“And the duchess loves you very much, but she likes you less, so you +are excellently matched.” + +“You are talking scandal, Harry, and there is never any basis for +scandal.” + +“The basis of every scandal is an immoral certainty,” said Lord Henry, +lighting a cigarette. + +“You would sacrifice anybody, Harry, for the sake of an epigram.” + +“The world goes to the altar of its own accord,” was the answer. + +“I wish I could love,” cried Dorian Gray with a deep note of pathos in +his voice. “But I seem to have lost the passion and forgotten the +desire. I am too much concentrated on myself. My own personality has +become a burden to me. I want to escape, to go away, to forget. It was +silly of me to come down here at all. I think I shall send a wire to +Harvey to have the yacht got ready. On a yacht one is safe.” + +“Safe from what, Dorian? You are in some trouble. Why not tell me what +it is? You know I would help you.” + +“I can’t tell you, Harry,” he answered sadly. “And I dare say it is +only a fancy of mine. This unfortunate accident has upset me. I have a +horrible presentiment that something of the kind may happen to me.” + +“What nonsense!” + +“I hope it is, but I can’t help feeling it. Ah! here is the duchess, +looking like Artemis in a tailor-made gown. You see we have come back, +Duchess.” + +“I have heard all about it, Mr. Gray,” she answered. “Poor Geoffrey is +terribly upset. And it seems that you asked him not to shoot the hare. +How curious!” + +“Yes, it was very curious. I don’t know what made me say it. Some whim, +I suppose. It looked the loveliest of little live things. But I am +sorry they told you about the man. It is a hideous subject.” + +“It is an annoying subject,” broke in Lord Henry. “It has no +psychological value at all. Now if Geoffrey had done the thing on +purpose, how interesting he would be! I should like to know some one +who had committed a real murder.” + +“How horrid of you, Harry!” cried the duchess. “Isn’t it, Mr. Gray? +Harry, Mr. Gray is ill again. He is going to faint.” + +Dorian drew himself up with an effort and smiled. “It is nothing, +Duchess,” he murmured; “my nerves are dreadfully out of order. That is +all. I am afraid I walked too far this morning. I didn’t hear what +Harry said. Was it very bad? You must tell me some other time. I think +I must go and lie down. You will excuse me, won’t you?” + +They had reached the great flight of steps that led from the +conservatory on to the terrace. As the glass door closed behind Dorian, +Lord Henry turned and looked at the duchess with his slumberous eyes. +“Are you very much in love with him?” he asked. + +She did not answer for some time, but stood gazing at the landscape. “I +wish I knew,” she said at last. + +He shook his head. “Knowledge would be fatal. It is the uncertainty +that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful.” + +“One may lose one’s way.” + +“All ways end at the same point, my dear Gladys.” + +“What is that?” + +“Disillusion.” + +“It was my _début_ in life,” she sighed. + +“It came to you crowned.” + +“I am tired of strawberry leaves.” + +“They become you.” + +“Only in public.” + +“You would miss them,” said Lord Henry. + +“I will not part with a petal.” + +“Monmouth has ears.” + +“Old age is dull of hearing.” + +“Has he never been jealous?” + +“I wish he had been.” + +He glanced about as if in search of something. “What are you looking +for?” she inquired. + +“The button from your foil,” he answered. “You have dropped it.” + +She laughed. “I have still the mask.” + +“It makes your eyes lovelier,” was his reply. + +She laughed again. Her teeth showed like white seeds in a scarlet +fruit. + +Upstairs, in his own room, Dorian Gray was lying on a sofa, with terror +in every tingling fibre of his body. Life had suddenly become too +hideous a burden for him to bear. The dreadful death of the unlucky +beater, shot in the thicket like a wild animal, had seemed to him to +pre-figure death for himself also. He had nearly swooned at what Lord +Henry had said in a chance mood of cynical jesting. + +At five o’clock he rang his bell for his servant and gave him orders to +pack his things for the night-express to town, and to have the brougham +at the door by eight-thirty. He was determined not to sleep another +night at Selby Royal. It was an ill-omened place. Death walked there in +the sunlight. The grass of the forest had been spotted with blood. + +Then he wrote a note to Lord Henry, telling him that he was going up to +town to consult his doctor and asking him to entertain his guests in +his absence. As he was putting it into the envelope, a knock came to +the door, and his valet informed him that the head-keeper wished to see +him. He frowned and bit his lip. “Send him in,” he muttered, after some +moments’ hesitation. + +As soon as the man entered, Dorian pulled his chequebook out of a +drawer and spread it out before him. + +“I suppose you have come about the unfortunate accident of this +morning, Thornton?” he said, taking up a pen. + +“Yes, sir,” answered the gamekeeper. + +“Was the poor fellow married? Had he any people dependent on him?” +asked Dorian, looking bored. “If so, I should not like them to be left +in want, and will send them any sum of money you may think necessary.” + +“We don’t know who he is, sir. That is what I took the liberty of +coming to you about.” + +“Don’t know who he is?” said Dorian, listlessly. “What do you mean? +Wasn’t he one of your men?” + +“No, sir. Never saw him before. Seems like a sailor, sir.” + +The pen dropped from Dorian Gray’s hand, and he felt as if his heart +had suddenly stopped beating. “A sailor?” he cried out. “Did you say a +sailor?” + +“Yes, sir. He looks as if he had been a sort of sailor; tattooed on +both arms, and that kind of thing.” + +“Was there anything found on him?” said Dorian, leaning forward and +looking at the man with startled eyes. “Anything that would tell his +name?” + +“Some money, sir—not much, and a six-shooter. There was no name of any +kind. A decent-looking man, sir, but rough-like. A sort of sailor we +think.” + +Dorian started to his feet. A terrible hope fluttered past him. He +clutched at it madly. “Where is the body?” he exclaimed. “Quick! I must +see it at once.” + +“It is in an empty stable in the Home Farm, sir. The folk don’t like to +have that sort of thing in their houses. They say a corpse brings bad +luck.” + +“The Home Farm! Go there at once and meet me. Tell one of the grooms to +bring my horse round. No. Never mind. I’ll go to the stables myself. It +will save time.” + +In less than a quarter of an hour, Dorian Gray was galloping down the +long avenue as hard as he could go. The trees seemed to sweep past him +in spectral procession, and wild shadows to fling themselves across his +path. Once the mare swerved at a white gate-post and nearly threw him. +He lashed her across the neck with his crop. She cleft the dusky air +like an arrow. The stones flew from her hoofs. + +At last he reached the Home Farm. Two men were loitering in the yard. +He leaped from the saddle and threw the reins to one of them. In the +farthest stable a light was glimmering. Something seemed to tell him +that the body was there, and he hurried to the door and put his hand +upon the latch. + +There he paused for a moment, feeling that he was on the brink of a +discovery that would either make or mar his life. Then he thrust the +door open and entered. + +On a heap of sacking in the far corner was lying the dead body of a man +dressed in a coarse shirt and a pair of blue trousers. A spotted +handkerchief had been placed over the face. A coarse candle, stuck in a +bottle, sputtered beside it. + +Dorian Gray shuddered. He felt that his could not be the hand to take +the handkerchief away, and called out to one of the farm-servants to +come to him. + +“Take that thing off the face. I wish to see it,” he said, clutching at +the door-post for support. + +When the farm-servant had done so, he stepped forward. A cry of joy +broke from his lips. The man who had been shot in the thicket was James +Vane. + +He stood there for some minutes looking at the dead body. As he rode +home, his eyes were full of tears, for he knew he was safe. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +“There is no use your telling me that you are going to be good,” cried +Lord Henry, dipping his white fingers into a red copper bowl filled +with rose-water. “You are quite perfect. Pray, don’t change.” + +Dorian Gray shook his head. “No, Harry, I have done too many dreadful +things in my life. I am not going to do any more. I began my good +actions yesterday.” + +“Where were you yesterday?” + +“In the country, Harry. I was staying at a little inn by myself.” + +“My dear boy,” said Lord Henry, smiling, “anybody can be good in the +country. There are no temptations there. That is the reason why people +who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized. Civilization is not +by any means an easy thing to attain to. There are only two ways by +which man can reach it. One is by being cultured, the other by being +corrupt. Country people have no opportunity of being either, so they +stagnate.” + +“Culture and corruption,” echoed Dorian. “I have known something of +both. It seems terrible to me now that they should ever be found +together. For I have a new ideal, Harry. I am going to alter. I think I +have altered.” + +“You have not yet told me what your good action was. Or did you say you +had done more than one?” asked his companion as he spilled into his +plate a little crimson pyramid of seeded strawberries and, through a +perforated, shell-shaped spoon, snowed white sugar upon them. + +“I can tell you, Harry. It is not a story I could tell to any one else. +I spared somebody. It sounds vain, but you understand what I mean. She +was quite beautiful and wonderfully like Sibyl Vane. I think it was +that which first attracted me to her. You remember Sibyl, don’t you? +How long ago that seems! Well, Hetty was not one of our own class, of +course. She was simply a girl in a village. But I really loved her. I +am quite sure that I loved her. All during this wonderful May that we +have been having, I used to run down and see her two or three times a +week. Yesterday she met me in a little orchard. The apple-blossoms kept +tumbling down on her hair, and she was laughing. We were to have gone +away together this morning at dawn. Suddenly I determined to leave her +as flowerlike as I had found her.” + +“I should think the novelty of the emotion must have given you a thrill +of real pleasure, Dorian,” interrupted Lord Henry. “But I can finish +your idyll for you. You gave her good advice and broke her heart. That +was the beginning of your reformation.” + +“Harry, you are horrible! You mustn’t say these dreadful things. +Hetty’s heart is not broken. Of course, she cried and all that. But +there is no disgrace upon her. She can live, like Perdita, in her +garden of mint and marigold.” + +“And weep over a faithless Florizel,” said Lord Henry, laughing, as he +leaned back in his chair. “My dear Dorian, you have the most curiously +boyish moods. Do you think this girl will ever be really content now +with any one of her own rank? I suppose she will be married some day to +a rough carter or a grinning ploughman. Well, the fact of having met +you, and loved you, will teach her to despise her husband, and she will +be wretched. From a moral point of view, I cannot say that I think much +of your great renunciation. Even as a beginning, it is poor. Besides, +how do you know that Hetty isn’t floating at the present moment in some +starlit mill-pond, with lovely water-lilies round her, like Ophelia?” + +“I can’t bear this, Harry! You mock at everything, and then suggest the +most serious tragedies. I am sorry I told you now. I don’t care what +you say to me. I know I was right in acting as I did. Poor Hetty! As I +rode past the farm this morning, I saw her white face at the window, +like a spray of jasmine. Don’t let us talk about it any more, and don’t +try to persuade me that the first good action I have done for years, +the first little bit of self-sacrifice I have ever known, is really a +sort of sin. I want to be better. I am going to be better. Tell me +something about yourself. What is going on in town? I have not been to +the club for days.” + +“The people are still discussing poor Basil’s disappearance.” + +“I should have thought they had got tired of that by this time,” said +Dorian, pouring himself out some wine and frowning slightly. + +“My dear boy, they have only been talking about it for six weeks, and +the British public are really not equal to the mental strain of having +more than one topic every three months. They have been very fortunate +lately, however. They have had my own divorce-case and Alan Campbell’s +suicide. Now they have got the mysterious disappearance of an artist. +Scotland Yard still insists that the man in the grey ulster who left +for Paris by the midnight train on the ninth of November was poor +Basil, and the French police declare that Basil never arrived in Paris +at all. I suppose in about a fortnight we shall be told that he has +been seen in San Francisco. It is an odd thing, but every one who +disappears is said to be seen at San Francisco. It must be a delightful +city, and possess all the attractions of the next world.” + +“What do you think has happened to Basil?” asked Dorian, holding up his +Burgundy against the light and wondering how it was that he could +discuss the matter so calmly. + +“I have not the slightest idea. If Basil chooses to hide himself, it is +no business of mine. If he is dead, I don’t want to think about him. +Death is the only thing that ever terrifies me. I hate it.” + +“Why?” said the younger man wearily. + +“Because,” said Lord Henry, passing beneath his nostrils the gilt +trellis of an open vinaigrette box, “one can survive everything +nowadays except that. Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the +nineteenth century that one cannot explain away. Let us have our coffee +in the music-room, Dorian. You must play Chopin to me. The man with +whom my wife ran away played Chopin exquisitely. Poor Victoria! I was +very fond of her. The house is rather lonely without her. Of course, +married life is merely a habit, a bad habit. But then one regrets the +loss even of one’s worst habits. Perhaps one regrets them the most. +They are such an essential part of one’s personality.” + +Dorian said nothing, but rose from the table, and passing into the next +room, sat down to the piano and let his fingers stray across the white +and black ivory of the keys. After the coffee had been brought in, he +stopped, and looking over at Lord Henry, said, “Harry, did it ever +occur to you that Basil was murdered?” + +Lord Henry yawned. “Basil was very popular, and always wore a Waterbury +watch. Why should he have been murdered? He was not clever enough to +have enemies. Of course, he had a wonderful genius for painting. But a +man can paint like Velasquez and yet be as dull as possible. Basil was +really rather dull. He only interested me once, and that was when he +told me, years ago, that he had a wild adoration for you and that you +were the dominant motive of his art.” + +“I was very fond of Basil,” said Dorian with a note of sadness in his +voice. “But don’t people say that he was murdered?” + +“Oh, some of the papers do. It does not seem to me to be at all +probable. I know there are dreadful places in Paris, but Basil was not +the sort of man to have gone to them. He had no curiosity. It was his +chief defect.” + +“What would you say, Harry, if I told you that I had murdered Basil?” +said the younger man. He watched him intently after he had spoken. + +“I would say, my dear fellow, that you were posing for a character that +doesn’t suit you. All crime is vulgar, just as all vulgarity is crime. +It is not in you, Dorian, to commit a murder. I am sorry if I hurt your +vanity by saying so, but I assure you it is true. Crime belongs +exclusively to the lower orders. I don’t blame them in the smallest +degree. I should fancy that crime was to them what art is to us, simply +a method of procuring extraordinary sensations.” + +“A method of procuring sensations? Do you think, then, that a man who +has once committed a murder could possibly do the same crime again? +Don’t tell me that.” + +“Oh! anything becomes a pleasure if one does it too often,” cried Lord +Henry, laughing. “That is one of the most important secrets of life. I +should fancy, however, that murder is always a mistake. One should +never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner. But let us +pass from poor Basil. I wish I could believe that he had come to such a +really romantic end as you suggest, but I can’t. I dare say he fell +into the Seine off an omnibus and that the conductor hushed up the +scandal. Yes: I should fancy that was his end. I see him lying now on +his back under those dull-green waters, with the heavy barges floating +over him and long weeds catching in his hair. Do you know, I don’t +think he would have done much more good work. During the last ten years +his painting had gone off very much.” + +Dorian heaved a sigh, and Lord Henry strolled across the room and began +to stroke the head of a curious Java parrot, a large, grey-plumaged +bird with pink crest and tail, that was balancing itself upon a bamboo +perch. As his pointed fingers touched it, it dropped the white scurf of +crinkled lids over black, glasslike eyes and began to sway backwards +and forwards. + +“Yes,” he continued, turning round and taking his handkerchief out of +his pocket; “his painting had quite gone off. It seemed to me to have +lost something. It had lost an ideal. When you and he ceased to be +great friends, he ceased to be a great artist. What was it separated +you? I suppose he bored you. If so, he never forgave you. It’s a habit +bores have. By the way, what has become of that wonderful portrait he +did of you? I don’t think I have ever seen it since he finished it. Oh! +I remember your telling me years ago that you had sent it down to +Selby, and that it had got mislaid or stolen on the way. You never got +it back? What a pity! it was really a masterpiece. I remember I wanted +to buy it. I wish I had now. It belonged to Basil’s best period. Since +then, his work was that curious mixture of bad painting and good +intentions that always entitles a man to be called a representative +British artist. Did you advertise for it? You should.” + +“I forget,” said Dorian. “I suppose I did. But I never really liked it. +I am sorry I sat for it. The memory of the thing is hateful to me. Why +do you talk of it? It used to remind me of those curious lines in some +play—Hamlet, I think—how do they run?— + +“Like the painting of a sorrow, +A face without a heart.” + + +Yes: that is what it was like.” + +Lord Henry laughed. “If a man treats life artistically, his brain is +his heart,” he answered, sinking into an arm-chair. + +Dorian Gray shook his head and struck some soft chords on the piano. +“‘Like the painting of a sorrow,’” he repeated, “‘a face without a +heart.’” + +The elder man lay back and looked at him with half-closed eyes. “By the +way, Dorian,” he said after a pause, “‘what does it profit a man if he +gain the whole world and lose—how does the quotation run?—his own +soul’?” + +The music jarred, and Dorian Gray started and stared at his friend. +“Why do you ask me that, Harry?” + +“My dear fellow,” said Lord Henry, elevating his eyebrows in surprise, +“I asked you because I thought you might be able to give me an answer. +That is all. I was going through the park last Sunday, and close by the +Marble Arch there stood a little crowd of shabby-looking people +listening to some vulgar street-preacher. As I passed by, I heard the +man yelling out that question to his audience. It struck me as being +rather dramatic. London is very rich in curious effects of that kind. A +wet Sunday, an uncouth Christian in a mackintosh, a ring of sickly +white faces under a broken roof of dripping umbrellas, and a wonderful +phrase flung into the air by shrill hysterical lips—it was really very +good in its way, quite a suggestion. I thought of telling the prophet +that art had a soul, but that man had not. I am afraid, however, he +would not have understood me.” + +“Don’t, Harry. The soul is a terrible reality. It can be bought, and +sold, and bartered away. It can be poisoned, or made perfect. There is +a soul in each one of us. I know it.” + +“Do you feel quite sure of that, Dorian?” + +“Quite sure.” + +“Ah! then it must be an illusion. The things one feels absolutely +certain about are never true. That is the fatality of faith, and the +lesson of romance. How grave you are! Don’t be so serious. What have +you or I to do with the superstitions of our age? No: we have given up +our belief in the soul. Play me something. Play me a nocturne, Dorian, +and, as you play, tell me, in a low voice, how you have kept your +youth. You must have some secret. I am only ten years older than you +are, and I am wrinkled, and worn, and yellow. You are really wonderful, +Dorian. You have never looked more charming than you do to-night. You +remind me of the day I saw you first. You were rather cheeky, very shy, +and absolutely extraordinary. You have changed, of course, but not in +appearance. I wish you would tell me your secret. To get back my youth +I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, +or be respectable. Youth! There is nothing like it. It’s absurd to talk +of the ignorance of youth. The only people to whose opinions I listen +now with any respect are people much younger than myself. They seem in +front of me. Life has revealed to them her latest wonder. As for the +aged, I always contradict the aged. I do it on principle. If you ask +them their opinion on something that happened yesterday, they solemnly +give you the opinions current in 1820, when people wore high stocks, +believed in everything, and knew absolutely nothing. How lovely that +thing you are playing is! I wonder, did Chopin write it at Majorca, +with the sea weeping round the villa and the salt spray dashing against +the panes? It is marvellously romantic. What a blessing it is that +there is one art left to us that is not imitative! Don’t stop. I want +music to-night. It seems to me that you are the young Apollo and that I +am Marsyas listening to you. I have sorrows, Dorian, of my own, that +even you know nothing of. The tragedy of old age is not that one is +old, but that one is young. I am amazed sometimes at my own sincerity. +Ah, Dorian, how happy you are! What an exquisite life you have had! You +have drunk deeply of everything. You have crushed the grapes against +your palate. Nothing has been hidden from you. And it has all been to +you no more than the sound of music. It has not marred you. You are +still the same.” + +“I am not the same, Harry.” + +“Yes, you are the same. I wonder what the rest of your life will be. +Don’t spoil it by renunciations. At present you are a perfect type. +Don’t make yourself incomplete. You are quite flawless now. You need +not shake your head: you know you are. Besides, Dorian, don’t deceive +yourself. Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question +of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides +itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and +think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a +morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that +brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you +had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had +ceased to play—I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that +our lives depend. Browning writes about that somewhere; but our own +senses will imagine them for us. There are moments when the odour of +_lilas blanc_ passes suddenly across me, and I have to live the +strangest month of my life over again. I wish I could change places +with you, Dorian. The world has cried out against us both, but it has +always worshipped you. It always will worship you. You are the type of +what the age is searching for, and what it is afraid it has found. I am +so glad that you have never done anything, never carved a statue, or +painted a picture, or produced anything outside of yourself! Life has +been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your +sonnets.” + +Dorian rose up from the piano and passed his hand through his hair. +“Yes, life has been exquisite,” he murmured, “but I am not going to +have the same life, Harry. And you must not say these extravagant +things to me. You don’t know everything about me. I think that if you +did, even you would turn from me. You laugh. Don’t laugh.” + +“Why have you stopped playing, Dorian? Go back and give me the nocturne +over again. Look at that great, honey-coloured moon that hangs in the +dusky air. She is waiting for you to charm her, and if you play she +will come closer to the earth. You won’t? Let us go to the club, then. +It has been a charming evening, and we must end it charmingly. There is +some one at White’s who wants immensely to know you—young Lord Poole, +Bournemouth’s eldest son. He has already copied your neckties, and has +begged me to introduce him to you. He is quite delightful and rather +reminds me of you.” + +“I hope not,” said Dorian with a sad look in his eyes. “But I am tired +to-night, Harry. I shan’t go to the club. It is nearly eleven, and I +want to go to bed early.” + +“Do stay. You have never played so well as to-night. There was +something in your touch that was wonderful. It had more expression than +I had ever heard from it before.” + +“It is because I am going to be good,” he answered, smiling. “I am a +little changed already.” + +“You cannot change to me, Dorian,” said Lord Henry. “You and I will +always be friends.” + +“Yet you poisoned me with a book once. I should not forgive that. +Harry, promise me that you will never lend that book to any one. It +does harm.” + +“My dear boy, you are really beginning to moralize. You will soon be +going about like the converted, and the revivalist, warning people +against all the sins of which you have grown tired. You are much too +delightful to do that. Besides, it is no use. You and I are what we +are, and will be what we will be. As for being poisoned by a book, +there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It +annihilates the desire to act. It is superbly sterile. The books that +the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame. +That is all. But we won’t discuss literature. Come round to-morrow. I +am going to ride at eleven. We might go together, and I will take you +to lunch afterwards with Lady Branksome. She is a charming woman, and +wants to consult you about some tapestries she is thinking of buying. +Mind you come. Or shall we lunch with our little duchess? She says she +never sees you now. Perhaps you are tired of Gladys? I thought you +would be. Her clever tongue gets on one’s nerves. Well, in any case, be +here at eleven.” + +“Must I really come, Harry?” + +“Certainly. The park is quite lovely now. I don’t think there have been +such lilacs since the year I met you.” + +“Very well. I shall be here at eleven,” said Dorian. “Good night, +Harry.” As he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, as if he had +something more to say. Then he sighed and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +It was a lovely night, so warm that he threw his coat over his arm and +did not even put his silk scarf round his throat. As he strolled home, +smoking his cigarette, two young men in evening dress passed him. He +heard one of them whisper to the other, “That is Dorian Gray.” He +remembered how pleased he used to be when he was pointed out, or stared +at, or talked about. He was tired of hearing his own name now. Half the +charm of the little village where he had been so often lately was that +no one knew who he was. He had often told the girl whom he had lured to +love him that he was poor, and she had believed him. He had told her +once that he was wicked, and she had laughed at him and answered that +wicked people were always very old and very ugly. What a laugh she +had!—just like a thrush singing. And how pretty she had been in her +cotton dresses and her large hats! She knew nothing, but she had +everything that he had lost. + +When he reached home, he found his servant waiting up for him. He sent +him to bed, and threw himself down on the sofa in the library, and +began to think over some of the things that Lord Henry had said to him. + +Was it really true that one could never change? He felt a wild longing +for the unstained purity of his boyhood—his rose-white boyhood, as Lord +Henry had once called it. He knew that he had tarnished himself, filled +his mind with corruption and given horror to his fancy; that he had +been an evil influence to others, and had experienced a terrible joy in +being so; and that of the lives that had crossed his own, it had been +the fairest and the most full of promise that he had brought to shame. +But was it all irretrievable? Was there no hope for him? + +Ah! in what a monstrous moment of pride and passion he had prayed that +the portrait should bear the burden of his days, and he keep the +unsullied splendour of eternal youth! All his failure had been due to +that. Better for him that each sin of his life had brought its sure +swift penalty along with it. There was purification in punishment. Not +“Forgive us our sins” but “Smite us for our iniquities” should be the +prayer of man to a most just God. + +The curiously carved mirror that Lord Henry had given to him, so many +years ago now, was standing on the table, and the white-limbed Cupids +laughed round it as of old. He took it up, as he had done on that night +of horror when he had first noted the change in the fatal picture, and +with wild, tear-dimmed eyes looked into its polished shield. Once, some +one who had terribly loved him had written to him a mad letter, ending +with these idolatrous words: “The world is changed because you are made +of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.” The +phrases came back to his memory, and he repeated them over and over to +himself. Then he loathed his own beauty, and flinging the mirror on the +floor, crushed it into silver splinters beneath his heel. It was his +beauty that had ruined him, his beauty and the youth that he had prayed +for. But for those two things, his life might have been free from +stain. His beauty had been to him but a mask, his youth but a mockery. +What was youth at best? A green, an unripe time, a time of shallow +moods, and sickly thoughts. Why had he worn its livery? Youth had +spoiled him. + +It was better not to think of the past. Nothing could alter that. It +was of himself, and of his own future, that he had to think. James Vane +was hidden in a nameless grave in Selby churchyard. Alan Campbell had +shot himself one night in his laboratory, but had not revealed the +secret that he had been forced to know. The excitement, such as it was, +over Basil Hallward’s disappearance would soon pass away. It was +already waning. He was perfectly safe there. Nor, indeed, was it the +death of Basil Hallward that weighed most upon his mind. It was the +living death of his own soul that troubled him. Basil had painted the +portrait that had marred his life. He could not forgive him that. It +was the portrait that had done everything. Basil had said things to him +that were unbearable, and that he had yet borne with patience. The +murder had been simply the madness of a moment. As for Alan Campbell, +his suicide had been his own act. He had chosen to do it. It was +nothing to him. + +A new life! That was what he wanted. That was what he was waiting for. +Surely he had begun it already. He had spared one innocent thing, at +any rate. He would never again tempt innocence. He would be good. + +As he thought of Hetty Merton, he began to wonder if the portrait in +the locked room had changed. Surely it was not still so horrible as it +had been? Perhaps if his life became pure, he would be able to expel +every sign of evil passion from the face. Perhaps the signs of evil had +already gone away. He would go and look. + +He took the lamp from the table and crept upstairs. As he unbarred the +door, a smile of joy flitted across his strangely young-looking face +and lingered for a moment about his lips. Yes, he would be good, and +the hideous thing that he had hidden away would no longer be a terror +to him. He felt as if the load had been lifted from him already. + +He went in quietly, locking the door behind him, as was his custom, and +dragged the purple hanging from the portrait. A cry of pain and +indignation broke from him. He could see no change, save that in the +eyes there was a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of +the hypocrite. The thing was still loathsome—more loathsome, if +possible, than before—and the scarlet dew that spotted the hand seemed +brighter, and more like blood newly spilled. Then he trembled. Had it +been merely vanity that had made him do his one good deed? Or the +desire for a new sensation, as Lord Henry had hinted, with his mocking +laugh? Or that passion to act a part that sometimes makes us do things +finer than we are ourselves? Or, perhaps, all these? And why was the +red stain larger than it had been? It seemed to have crept like a +horrible disease over the wrinkled fingers. There was blood on the +painted feet, as though the thing had dripped—blood even on the hand +that had not held the knife. Confess? Did it mean that he was to +confess? To give himself up and be put to death? He laughed. He felt +that the idea was monstrous. Besides, even if he did confess, who would +believe him? There was no trace of the murdered man anywhere. +Everything belonging to him had been destroyed. He himself had burned +what had been below-stairs. The world would simply say that he was mad. +They would shut him up if he persisted in his story.... Yet it was his +duty to confess, to suffer public shame, and to make public atonement. +There was a God who called upon men to tell their sins to earth as well +as to heaven. Nothing that he could do would cleanse him till he had +told his own sin. His sin? He shrugged his shoulders. The death of +Basil Hallward seemed very little to him. He was thinking of Hetty +Merton. For it was an unjust mirror, this mirror of his soul that he +was looking at. Vanity? Curiosity? Hypocrisy? Had there been nothing +more in his renunciation than that? There had been something more. At +least he thought so. But who could tell? ... No. There had been nothing +more. Through vanity he had spared her. In hypocrisy he had worn the +mask of goodness. For curiosity’s sake he had tried the denial of self. +He recognized that now. + +But this murder—was it to dog him all his life? Was he always to be +burdened by his past? Was he really to confess? Never. There was only +one bit of evidence left against him. The picture itself—that was +evidence. He would destroy it. Why had he kept it so long? Once it had +given him pleasure to watch it changing and growing old. Of late he had +felt no such pleasure. It had kept him awake at night. When he had been +away, he had been filled with terror lest other eyes should look upon +it. It had brought melancholy across his passions. Its mere memory had +marred many moments of joy. It had been like conscience to him. Yes, it +had been conscience. He would destroy it. + +He looked round and saw the knife that had stabbed Basil Hallward. He +had cleaned it many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It was +bright, and glistened. As it had killed the painter, so it would kill +the painter’s work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, +and when that was dead, he would be free. It would kill this monstrous +soul-life, and without its hideous warnings, he would be at peace. He +seized the thing, and stabbed the picture with it. + +There was a cry heard, and a crash. The cry was so horrible in its +agony that the frightened servants woke and crept out of their rooms. +Two gentlemen, who were passing in the square below, stopped and looked +up at the great house. They walked on till they met a policeman and +brought him back. The man rang the bell several times, but there was no +answer. Except for a light in one of the top windows, the house was all +dark. After a time, he went away and stood in an adjoining portico and +watched. + +“Whose house is that, Constable?” asked the elder of the two gentlemen. + +“Mr. Dorian Gray’s, sir,” answered the policeman. + +They looked at each other, as they walked away, and sneered. One of +them was Sir Henry Ashton’s uncle. + +Inside, in the servants’ part of the house, the half-clad domestics +were talking in low whispers to each other. Old Mrs. Leaf was crying +and wringing her hands. Francis was as pale as death. + +After about a quarter of an hour, he got the coachman and one of the +footmen and crept upstairs. They knocked, but there was no reply. They +called out. Everything was still. Finally, after vainly trying to force +the door, they got on the roof and dropped down on to the balcony. The +windows yielded easily—their bolts were old. + +When they entered, they found hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait +of their master as they had last seen him, in all the wonder of his +exquisite youth and beauty. Lying on the floor was a dead man, in +evening dress, with a knife in his heart. He was withered, wrinkled, +and loathsome of visage. It was not till they had examined the rings +that they recognized who it was. + +THE END diff --git a/search-engine/books/The War of the Worlds.txt b/search-engine/books/The War of the Worlds.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd94a80 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/The War of the Worlds.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6370 @@ +Title: The War of the Worlds +Author: H. G. Wells + +The War of the Worlds + +by H. G. Wells + + + + + ‘But who shall dwell in these worlds if they be inhabited? + . . . Are we or they Lords of the World? . . . And + how are all things made for man?’ + KEPLER (quoted in _The Anatomy of Melancholy_) + + + + +Contents + + + BOOK ONE.—THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS + + I. THE EVE OF THE WAR. + II. THE FALLING STAR. + III. ON HORSELL COMMON. + IV. THE CYLINDER OPENS. + V. THE HEAT-RAY. + VI. THE HEAT-RAY IN THE CHOBHAM ROAD. + VII. HOW I REACHED HOME. + VIII. FRIDAY NIGHT. + IX. THE FIGHTING BEGINS. + X. IN THE STORM. + XI. AT THE WINDOW. + XII. WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON. + XIII. HOW I FELL IN WITH THE CURATE. + XIV. IN LONDON. + XV. WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN SURREY. + XVI. THE EXODUS FROM LONDON. + XVII. THE “THUNDER CHILD”. + + BOOK TWO.—THE EARTH UNDER THE MARTIANS + + I. UNDER FOOT. + II. WHAT WE SAW FROM THE RUINED HOUSE. + III. THE DAYS OF IMPRISONMENT. + IV. THE DEATH OF THE CURATE. + V. THE STILLNESS. + VI. THE WORK OF FIFTEEN DAYS. + VII. THE MAN ON PUTNEY HILL. + VIII. DEAD LONDON. + IX. WRECKAGE. + X. THE EPILOGUE. + + + + +BOOK ONE +THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS + + + + +I. +THE EVE OF THE WAR. + + +No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century +that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences +greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied +themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and +studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might +scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of +water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe +about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire +over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do +the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources +of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life +upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of +the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men +fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to +themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the +gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the +beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, +regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their +plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great +disillusionment. + +The planet Mars, I scarcely need remind the reader, revolves about the +sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000 miles, and the light and heat it +receives from the sun is barely half of that received by this world. It +must be, if the nebular hypothesis has any truth, older than our world; +and long before this earth ceased to be molten, life upon its surface +must have begun its course. The fact that it is scarcely one seventh of +the volume of the earth must have accelerated its cooling to the +temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water and all +that is necessary for the support of animated existence. + +Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, that no writer, up to +the very end of the nineteenth century, expressed any idea that +intelligent life might have developed there far, or indeed at all, +beyond its earthly level. Nor was it generally understood that since +Mars is older than our earth, with scarcely a quarter of the +superficial area and remoter from the sun, it necessarily follows that +it is not only more distant from time’s beginning but nearer its end. + +The secular cooling that must someday overtake our planet has already +gone far indeed with our neighbour. Its physical condition is still +largely a mystery, but we know now that even in its equatorial region +the midday temperature barely approaches that of our coldest winter. +Its air is much more attenuated than ours, its oceans have shrunk until +they cover but a third of its surface, and as its slow seasons change +huge snowcaps gather and melt about either pole and periodically +inundate its temperate zones. That last stage of exhaustion, which to +us is still incredibly remote, has become a present-day problem for the +inhabitants of Mars. The immediate pressure of necessity has brightened +their intellects, enlarged their powers, and hardened their hearts. And +looking across space with instruments, and intelligences such as we +have scarcely dreamed of, they see, at its nearest distance only +35,000,000 of miles sunward of them, a morning star of hope, our own +warmer planet, green with vegetation and grey with water, with a cloudy +atmosphere eloquent of fertility, with glimpses through its drifting +cloud wisps of broad stretches of populous country and narrow, +navy-crowded seas. + +And we men, the creatures who inhabit this earth, must be to them at +least as alien and lowly as are the monkeys and lemurs to us. The +intellectual side of man already admits that life is an incessant +struggle for existence, and it would seem that this too is the belief +of the minds upon Mars. Their world is far gone in its cooling and this +world is still crowded with life, but crowded only with what they +regard as inferior animals. To carry warfare sunward is, indeed, their +only escape from the destruction that, generation after generation, +creeps upon them. + +And before we judge of them too harshly we must remember what ruthless +and utter destruction our own species has wrought, not only upon +animals, such as the vanished bison and the dodo, but upon its inferior +races. The Tasmanians, in spite of their human likeness, were entirely +swept out of existence in a war of extermination waged by European +immigrants, in the space of fifty years. Are we such apostles of mercy +as to complain if the Martians warred in the same spirit? + +The Martians seem to have calculated their descent with amazing +subtlety—their mathematical learning is evidently far in excess of +ours—and to have carried out their preparations with a well-nigh +perfect unanimity. Had our instruments permitted it, we might have seen +the gathering trouble far back in the nineteenth century. Men like +Schiaparelli watched the red planet—it is odd, by-the-bye, that for +countless centuries Mars has been the star of war—but failed to +interpret the fluctuating appearances of the markings they mapped so +well. All that time the Martians must have been getting ready. + +During the opposition of 1894 a great light was seen on the illuminated +part of the disk, first at the Lick Observatory, then by Perrotin of +Nice, and then by other observers. English readers heard of it first in +the issue of _Nature_ dated August 2. I am inclined to think that this +blaze may have been the casting of the huge gun, in the vast pit sunk +into their planet, from which their shots were fired at us. Peculiar +markings, as yet unexplained, were seen near the site of that outbreak +during the next two oppositions. + +The storm burst upon us six years ago now. As Mars approached +opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires of the astronomical exchange +palpitating with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak of +incandescent gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight of +the twelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at once resorted, +indicated a mass of flaming gas, chiefly hydrogen, moving with an +enormous velocity towards this earth. This jet of fire had become +invisible about a quarter past twelve. He compared it to a colossal +puff of flame suddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, “as +flaming gases rushed out of a gun.” + +A singularly appropriate phrase it proved. Yet the next day there was +nothing of this in the papers except a little note in the _Daily +Telegraph_, and the world went in ignorance of one of the gravest +dangers that ever threatened the human race. I might not have heard of +the eruption at all had I not met Ogilvy, the well-known astronomer, at +Ottershaw. He was immensely excited at the news, and in the excess of +his feelings invited me up to take a turn with him that night in a +scrutiny of the red planet. + +In spite of all that has happened since, I still remember that vigil +very distinctly: the black and silent observatory, the shadowed lantern +throwing a feeble glow upon the floor in the corner, the steady ticking +of the clockwork of the telescope, the little slit in the roof—an +oblong profundity with the stardust streaked across it. Ogilvy moved +about, invisible but audible. Looking through the telescope, one saw a +circle of deep blue and the little round planet swimming in the field. +It seemed such a little thing, so bright and small and still, faintly +marked with transverse stripes, and slightly flattened from the perfect +round. But so little it was, so silvery warm—a pin’s head of light! It +was as if it quivered, but really this was the telescope vibrating with +the activity of the clockwork that kept the planet in view. + +As I watched, the planet seemed to grow larger and smaller and to +advance and recede, but that was simply that my eye was tired. Forty +millions of miles it was from us—more than forty millions of miles of +void. Few people realise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust of +the material universe swims. + +Near it in the field, I remember, were three faint points of light, +three telescopic stars infinitely remote, and all around it was the +unfathomable darkness of empty space. You know how that blackness looks +on a frosty starlight night. In a telescope it seems far profounder. +And invisible to me because it was so remote and small, flying swiftly +and steadily towards me across that incredible distance, drawing nearer +every minute by so many thousands of miles, came the Thing they were +sending us, the Thing that was to bring so much struggle and calamity +and death to the earth. I never dreamed of it then as I watched; no one +on earth dreamed of that unerring missile. + +That night, too, there was another jetting out of gas from the distant +planet. I saw it. A reddish flash at the edge, the slightest projection +of the outline just as the chronometer struck midnight; and at that I +told Ogilvy and he took my place. The night was warm and I was thirsty, +and I went stretching my legs clumsily and feeling my way in the +darkness, to the little table where the siphon stood, while Ogilvy +exclaimed at the streamer of gas that came out towards us. + +That night another invisible missile started on its way to the earth +from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four hours after the first +one. I remember how I sat on the table there in the blackness, with +patches of green and crimson swimming before my eyes. I wished I had a +light to smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minute gleam I +had seen and all that it would presently bring me. Ogilvy watched till +one, and then gave it up; and we lit the lantern and walked over to his +house. Down below in the darkness were Ottershaw and Chertsey and all +their hundreds of people, sleeping in peace. + +He was full of speculation that night about the condition of Mars, and +scoffed at the vulgar idea of its having inhabitants who were +signalling us. His idea was that meteorites might be falling in a heavy +shower upon the planet, or that a huge volcanic explosion was in +progress. He pointed out to me how unlikely it was that organic +evolution had taken the same direction in the two adjacent planets. + +“The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to one,” he +said. + +Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the night after +about midnight, and again the night after; and so for ten nights, a +flame each night. Why the shots ceased after the tenth no one on earth +has attempted to explain. It may be the gases of the firing caused the +Martians inconvenience. Dense clouds of smoke or dust, visible through +a powerful telescope on earth as little grey, fluctuating patches, +spread through the clearness of the planet’s atmosphere and obscured +its more familiar features. + +Even the daily papers woke up to the disturbances at last, and popular +notes appeared here, there, and everywhere concerning the volcanoes +upon Mars. The seriocomic periodical _Punch_, I remember, made a happy +use of it in the political cartoon. And, all unsuspected, those +missiles the Martians had fired at us drew earthward, rushing now at a +pace of many miles a second through the empty gulf of space, hour by +hour and day by day, nearer and nearer. It seems to me now almost +incredibly wonderful that, with that swift fate hanging over us, men +could go about their petty concerns as they did. I remember how +jubilant Markham was at securing a new photograph of the planet for the +illustrated paper he edited in those days. People in these latter times +scarcely realise the abundance and enterprise of our nineteenth-century +papers. For my own part, I was much occupied in learning to ride the +bicycle, and busy upon a series of papers discussing the probable +developments of moral ideas as civilisation progressed. + +One night (the first missile then could scarcely have been 10,000,000 +miles away) I went for a walk with my wife. It was starlight and I +explained the Signs of the Zodiac to her, and pointed out Mars, a +bright dot of light creeping zenithward, towards which so many +telescopes were pointed. It was a warm night. Coming home, a party of +excursionists from Chertsey or Isleworth passed us singing and playing +music. There were lights in the upper windows of the houses as the +people went to bed. From the railway station in the distance came the +sound of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into +melody by the distance. My wife pointed out to me the brightness of the +red, green, and yellow signal lights hanging in a framework against the +sky. It seemed so safe and tranquil. + + + + +II. +THE FALLING STAR. + + +Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the +morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the +atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it, and taken it for an ordinary +falling star. Albin described it as leaving a greenish streak behind it +that glowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authority on +meteorites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about +ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him that it fell to earth +about one hundred miles east of him. + +I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and although my +French windows face towards Ottershaw and the blind was up (for I loved +in those days to look up at the night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet +this strangest of all things that ever came to earth from outer space +must have fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only +looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say it +travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing of that. Many +people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex must have seen the fall of +it, and, at most, have thought that another meteorite had descended. No +one seems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass that night. + +But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen the shooting +star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay somewhere on the common +between Horsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the idea of +finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not far from the +sand-pits. An enormous hole had been made by the impact of the +projectile, and the sand and gravel had been flung violently in every +direction over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away. +The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose against +the dawn. + +The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst the +scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to fragments in its +descent. The uncovered part had the appearance of a huge cylinder, +caked over and its outline softened by a thick scaly dun-coloured +incrustation. It had a diameter of about thirty yards. He approached +the mass, surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since most +meteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was, however, still +so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near approach. +A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling +of its surface; for at that time it had not occurred to him that it +might be hollow. + +He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the Thing had made for +itself, staring at its strange appearance, astonished chiefly at its +unusual shape and colour, and dimly perceiving even then some evidence +of design in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfully still, and +the sun, just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge, was already +warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning, there was +certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faint +movements from within the cindery cylinder. He was all alone on the +common. + +Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the grey clinker, +the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite, was falling off the +circular edge of the end. It was dropping off in flakes and raining +down upon the sand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with a +sharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth. + +For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and, although the +heat was excessive, he clambered down into the pit close to the bulk to +see the Thing more clearly. He fancied even then that the cooling of +the body might account for this, but what disturbed that idea was the +fact that the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder. + +And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top of the +cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a gradual movement that +he discovered it only through noticing that a black mark that had been +near him five minutes ago was now at the other side of the +circumference. Even then he scarcely understood what this indicated, +until he heard a muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk +forward an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The +cylinder was artificial—hollow—with an end that screwed out! Something +within the cylinder was unscrewing the top! + +“Good heavens!” said Ogilvy. “There’s a man in it—men in it! Half +roasted to death! Trying to escape!” + +At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thing with the flash +upon Mars. + +The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to him that he +forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder to help turn. But +luckily the dull radiation arrested him before he could burn his hands +on the still-glowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment, +then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running wildly into +Woking. The time then must have been somewhere about six o’clock. He +met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told +and his appearance were so wild—his hat had fallen off in the pit—that +the man simply drove on. He was equally unsuccessful with the potman +who was just unlocking the doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge. +The fellow thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful +attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a little; and +when he saw Henderson, the London journalist, in his garden, he called +over the palings and made himself understood. + +“Henderson,” he called, “you saw that shooting star last night?” + +“Well?” said Henderson. + +“It’s out on Horsell Common now.” + +“Good Lord!” said Henderson. “Fallen meteorite! That’s good.” + +“But it’s something more than a meteorite. It’s a cylinder—an +artificial cylinder, man! And there’s something inside.” + +Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand. + +“What’s that?” he said. He was deaf in one ear. + +Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a minute or so +taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched up his jacket, and +came out into the road. The two men hurried back at once to the common, +and found the cylinder still lying in the same position. But now the +sounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed +between the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either entering +or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound. + +They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a stick, and, +meeting with no response, they both concluded the man or men inside +must be insensible or dead. + +Of course the two were quite unable to do anything. They shouted +consolation and promises, and went off back to the town again to get +help. One can imagine them, covered with sand, excited and disordered, +running up the little street in the bright sunlight just as the shop +folks were taking down their shutters and people were opening their +bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway station at once, in +order to telegraph the news to London. The newspaper articles had +prepared men’s minds for the reception of the idea. + +By eight o’clock a number of boys and unemployed men had already +started for the common to see the “dead men from Mars.” That was the +form the story took. I heard of it first from my newspaper boy about a +quarter to nine when I went out to get my _Daily Chronicle_. I was +naturally startled, and lost no time in going out and across the +Ottershaw bridge to the sand-pits. + + + + +III. +ON HORSELL COMMON. + + +I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge +hole in which the cylinder lay. I have already described the appearance +of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground. The turf and gravel +about it seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion. No doubt its +impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson and Ogilvy were not there. +I think they perceived that nothing was to be done for the present, and +had gone away to breakfast at Henderson’s house. + +There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of the Pit, with their +feet dangling, and amusing themselves—until I stopped them—by throwing +stones at the giant mass. After I had spoken to them about it, they +began playing at “touch” in and out of the group of bystanders. + +Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbing gardener I employed +sometimes, a girl carrying a baby, Gregg the butcher and his little +boy, and two or three loafers and golf caddies who were accustomed to +hang about the railway station. There was very little talking. Few of +the common people in England had anything but the vaguest astronomical +ideas in those days. Most of them were staring quietly at the big table +like end of the cylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson had +left it. I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charred corpses +was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Some went away while I was +there, and other people came. I clambered into the pit and fancied I +heard a faint movement under my feet. The top had certainly ceased to +rotate. + +It was only when I got thus close to it that the strangeness of this +object was at all evident to me. At the first glance it was really no +more exciting than an overturned carriage or a tree blown across the +road. Not so much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas float. It +required a certain amount of scientific education to perceive that the +grey scale of the Thing was no common oxide, that the yellowish-white +metal that gleamed in the crack between the lid and the cylinder had an +unfamiliar hue. “Extra-terrestrial” had no meaning for most of the +onlookers. + +At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that the Thing had come +from the planet Mars, but I judged it improbable that it contained any +living creature. I thought the unscrewing might be automatic. In spite +of Ogilvy, I still believed that there were men in Mars. My mind ran +fancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript, on the +difficulties in translation that might arise, whether we should find +coins and models in it, and so forth. Yet it was a little too large for +assurance on this idea. I felt an impatience to see it opened. About +eleven, as nothing seemed happening, I walked back, full of such +thought, to my home in Maybury. But I found it difficult to get to work +upon my abstract investigations. + +In the afternoon the appearance of the common had altered very much. +The early editions of the evening papers had startled London with +enormous headlines: + +“A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS.” + + +“REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,” + + +and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy’s wire to the Astronomical Exchange +had roused every observatory in the three kingdoms. + +There were half a dozen flys or more from the Woking station standing +in the road by the sand-pits, a basket-chaise from Chobham, and a +rather lordly carriage. Besides that, there was quite a heap of +bicycles. In addition, a large number of people must have walked, in +spite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey, so that there +was altogether quite a considerable crowd—one or two gaily dressed +ladies among the others. + +It was glaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind, and +the only shadow was that of the few scattered pine trees. The burning +heather had been extinguished, but the level ground towards Ottershaw +was blackened as far as one could see, and still giving off vertical +streamers of smoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the Chobham +Road had sent up his son with a barrow-load of green apples and ginger +beer. + +Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by a group of about +half a dozen men—Henderson, Ogilvy, and a tall, fair-haired man that I +afterwards learned was Stent, the Astronomer Royal, with several +workmen wielding spades and pickaxes. Stent was giving directions in a +clear, high-pitched voice. He was standing on the cylinder, which was +now evidently much cooler; his face was crimson and streaming with +perspiration, and something seemed to have irritated him. + +A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered, though its lower +end was still embedded. As soon as Ogilvy saw me among the staring +crowd on the edge of the pit he called to me to come down, and asked me +if I would mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of the manor. + +The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a serious impediment to their +excavations, especially the boys. They wanted a light railing put up, +and help to keep the people back. He told me that a faint stirring was +occasionally still audible within the case, but that the workmen had +failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded no grip to them. The case +appeared to be enormously thick, and it was possible that the faint +sounds we heard represented a noisy tumult in the interior. + +I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become one of the privileged +spectators within the contemplated enclosure. I failed to find Lord +Hilton at his house, but I was told he was expected from London by the +six o’clock train from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarter +past five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up to the station to +waylay him. + + + + +IV. +THE CYLINDER OPENS. + + +When I returned to the common the sun was setting. Scattered groups +were hurrying from the direction of Woking, and one or two persons were +returning. The crowd about the pit had increased, and stood out black +against the lemon yellow of the sky—a couple of hundred people, +perhaps. There were raised voices, and some sort of struggle appeared +to be going on about the pit. Strange imaginings passed through my +mind. As I drew nearer I heard Stent’s voice: + +“Keep back! Keep back!” + +A boy came running towards me. + +“It’s a-movin’,” he said to me as he passed; “a-screwin’ and a-screwin’ +out. I don’t like it. I’m a-goin’ ’ome, I am.” + +I went on to the crowd. There were really, I should think, two or three +hundred people elbowing and jostling one another, the one or two ladies +there being by no means the least active. + +“He’s fallen in the pit!” cried some one. + +“Keep back!” said several. + +The crowd swayed a little, and I elbowed my way through. Every one +seemed greatly excited. I heard a peculiar humming sound from the pit. + +“I say!” said Ogilvy; “help keep these idiots back. We don’t know +what’s in the confounded thing, you know!” + +I saw a young man, a shop assistant in Woking I believe he was, +standing on the cylinder and trying to scramble out of the hole again. +The crowd had pushed him in. + +The end of the cylinder was being screwed out from within. Nearly two +feet of shining screw projected. Somebody blundered against me, and I +narrowly missed being pitched onto the top of the screw. I turned, and +as I did so the screw must have come out, for the lid of the cylinder +fell upon the gravel with a ringing concussion. I stuck my elbow into +the person behind me, and turned my head towards the Thing again. For a +moment that circular cavity seemed perfectly black. I had the sunset in +my eyes. + +I think everyone expected to see a man emerge—possibly something a +little unlike us terrestrial men, but in all essentials a man. I know I +did. But, looking, I presently saw something stirring within the +shadow: greyish billowy movements, one above another, and then two +luminous disks—like eyes. Then something resembling a little grey +snake, about the thickness of a walking stick, coiled up out of the +writhing middle, and wriggled in the air towards me—and then another. + +A sudden chill came over me. There was a loud shriek from a woman +behind. I half turned, keeping my eyes fixed upon the cylinder still, +from which other tentacles were now projecting, and began pushing my +way back from the edge of the pit. I saw astonishment giving place to +horror on the faces of the people about me. I heard inarticulate +exclamations on all sides. There was a general movement backwards. I +saw the shopman struggling still on the edge of the pit. I found myself +alone, and saw the people on the other side of the pit running off, +Stent among them. I looked again at the cylinder, and ungovernable +terror gripped me. I stood petrified and staring. + +A big greyish rounded bulk, the size, perhaps, of a bear, was rising +slowly and painfully out of the cylinder. As it bulged up and caught +the light, it glistened like wet leather. + +Two large dark-coloured eyes were regarding me steadfastly. The mass +that framed them, the head of the thing, was rounded, and had, one +might say, a face. There was a mouth under the eyes, the lipless brim +of which quivered and panted, and dropped saliva. The whole creature +heaved and pulsated convulsively. A lank tentacular appendage gripped +the edge of the cylinder, another swayed in the air. + +Those who have never seen a living Martian can scarcely imagine the +strange horror of its appearance. The peculiar V-shaped mouth with its +pointed upper lip, the absence of brow ridges, the absence of a chin +beneath the wedgelike lower lip, the incessant quivering of this mouth, +the Gorgon groups of tentacles, the tumultuous breathing of the lungs +in a strange atmosphere, the evident heaviness and painfulness of +movement due to the greater gravitational energy of the earth—above +all, the extraordinary intensity of the immense eyes—were at once +vital, intense, inhuman, crippled and monstrous. There was something +fungoid in the oily brown skin, something in the clumsy deliberation of +the tedious movements unspeakably nasty. Even at this first encounter, +this first glimpse, I was overcome with disgust and dread. + +Suddenly the monster vanished. It had toppled over the brim of the +cylinder and fallen into the pit, with a thud like the fall of a great +mass of leather. I heard it give a peculiar thick cry, and forthwith +another of these creatures appeared darkly in the deep shadow of the +aperture. + +I turned and, running madly, made for the first group of trees, perhaps +a hundred yards away; but I ran slantingly and stumbling, for I could +not avert my face from these things. + +There, among some young pine trees and furze bushes, I stopped, +panting, and waited further developments. The common round the +sand-pits was dotted with people, standing like myself in a +half-fascinated terror, staring at these creatures, or rather at the +heaped gravel at the edge of the pit in which they lay. And then, with +a renewed horror, I saw a round, black object bobbing up and down on +the edge of the pit. It was the head of the shopman who had fallen in, +but showing as a little black object against the hot western sun. Now +he got his shoulder and knee up, and again he seemed to slip back until +only his head was visible. Suddenly he vanished, and I could have +fancied a faint shriek had reached me. I had a momentary impulse to go +back and help him that my fears overruled. + +Everything was then quite invisible, hidden by the deep pit and the +heap of sand that the fall of the cylinder had made. Anyone coming +along the road from Chobham or Woking would have been amazed at the +sight—a dwindling multitude of perhaps a hundred people or more +standing in a great irregular circle, in ditches, behind bushes, behind +gates and hedges, saying little to one another and that in short, +excited shouts, and staring, staring hard at a few heaps of sand. The +barrow of ginger beer stood, a queer derelict, black against the +burning sky, and in the sand-pits was a row of deserted vehicles with +their horses feeding out of nosebags or pawing the ground. + + + + +V. +THE HEAT-RAY. + + +After the glimpse I had had of the Martians emerging from the cylinder +in which they had come to the earth from their planet, a kind of +fascination paralysed my actions. I remained standing knee-deep in the +heather, staring at the mound that hid them. I was a battleground of +fear and curiosity. + +I did not dare to go back towards the pit, but I felt a passionate +longing to peer into it. I began walking, therefore, in a big curve, +seeking some point of vantage and continually looking at the sand-heaps +that hid these new-comers to our earth. Once a leash of thin black +whips, like the arms of an octopus, flashed across the sunset and was +immediately withdrawn, and afterwards a thin rod rose up, joint by +joint, bearing at its apex a circular disk that spun with a wobbling +motion. What could be going on there? + +Most of the spectators had gathered in one or two groups—one a little +crowd towards Woking, the other a knot of people in the direction of +Chobham. Evidently they shared my mental conflict. There were few near +me. One man I approached—he was, I perceived, a neighbour of mine, +though I did not know his name—and accosted. But it was scarcely a time +for articulate conversation. + +“What ugly _brutes_!” he said. “Good God! What ugly brutes!” He +repeated this over and over again. + +“Did you see a man in the pit?” I said; but he made no answer to that. +We became silent, and stood watching for a time side by side, deriving, +I fancy, a certain comfort in one another’s company. Then I shifted my +position to a little knoll that gave me the advantage of a yard or more +of elevation and when I looked for him presently he was walking towards +Woking. + +The sunset faded to twilight before anything further happened. The +crowd far away on the left, towards Woking, seemed to grow, and I heard +now a faint murmur from it. The little knot of people towards Chobham +dispersed. There was scarcely an intimation of movement from the pit. + +It was this, as much as anything, that gave people courage, and I +suppose the new arrivals from Woking also helped to restore confidence. +At any rate, as the dusk came on a slow, intermittent movement upon the +sand-pits began, a movement that seemed to gather force as the +stillness of the evening about the cylinder remained unbroken. Vertical +black figures in twos and threes would advance, stop, watch, and +advance again, spreading out as they did so in a thin irregular +crescent that promised to enclose the pit in its attenuated horns. I, +too, on my side began to move towards the pit. + +Then I saw some cabmen and others had walked boldly into the sand-pits, +and heard the clatter of hoofs and the gride of wheels. I saw a lad +trundling off the barrow of apples. And then, within thirty yards of +the pit, advancing from the direction of Horsell, I noted a little +black knot of men, the foremost of whom was waving a white flag. + +This was the Deputation. There had been a hasty consultation, and since +the Martians were evidently, in spite of their repulsive forms, +intelligent creatures, it had been resolved to show them, by +approaching them with signals, that we too were intelligent. + +Flutter, flutter, went the flag, first to the right, then to the left. +It was too far for me to recognise anyone there, but afterwards I +learned that Ogilvy, Stent, and Henderson were with others in this +attempt at communication. This little group had in its advance dragged +inward, so to speak, the circumference of the now almost complete +circle of people, and a number of dim black figures followed it at +discreet distances. + +Suddenly there was a flash of light, and a quantity of luminous +greenish smoke came out of the pit in three distinct puffs, which drove +up, one after the other, straight into the still air. + +This smoke (or flame, perhaps, would be the better word for it) was so +bright that the deep blue sky overhead and the hazy stretches of brown +common towards Chertsey, set with black pine trees, seemed to darken +abruptly as these puffs arose, and to remain the darker after their +dispersal. At the same time a faint hissing sound became audible. + +Beyond the pit stood the little wedge of people with the white flag at +its apex, arrested by these phenomena, a little knot of small vertical +black shapes upon the black ground. As the green smoke arose, their +faces flashed out pallid green, and faded again as it vanished. Then +slowly the hissing passed into a humming, into a long, loud, droning +noise. Slowly a humped shape rose out of the pit, and the ghost of a +beam of light seemed to flicker out from it. + +Forthwith flashes of actual flame, a bright glare leaping from one to +another, sprang from the scattered group of men. It was as if some +invisible jet impinged upon them and flashed into white flame. It was +as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire. + +Then, by the light of their own destruction, I saw them staggering and +falling, and their supporters turning to run. + +I stood staring, not as yet realising that this was death leaping from +man to man in that little distant crowd. All I felt was that it was +something very strange. An almost noiseless and blinding flash of +light, and a man fell headlong and lay still; and as the unseen shaft +of heat passed over them, pine trees burst into fire, and every dry +furze bush became with one dull thud a mass of flames. And far away +towards Knaphill I saw the flashes of trees and hedges and wooden +buildings suddenly set alight. + +It was sweeping round swiftly and steadily, this flaming death, this +invisible, inevitable sword of heat. I perceived it coming towards me +by the flashing bushes it touched, and was too astounded and stupefied +to stir. I heard the crackle of fire in the sand-pits and the sudden +squeal of a horse that was as suddenly stilled. Then it was as if an +invisible yet intensely heated finger were drawn through the heather +between me and the Martians, and all along a curving line beyond the +sand-pits the dark ground smoked and crackled. Something fell with a +crash far away to the left where the road from Woking station opens out +on the common. Forth-with the hissing and humming ceased, and the +black, dome-like object sank slowly out of sight into the pit. + +All this had happened with such swiftness that I had stood motionless, +dumbfounded and dazzled by the flashes of light. Had that death swept +through a full circle, it must inevitably have slain me in my surprise. +But it passed and spared me, and left the night about me suddenly dark +and unfamiliar. + +The undulating common seemed now dark almost to blackness, except where +its roadways lay grey and pale under the deep blue sky of the early +night. It was dark, and suddenly void of men. Overhead the stars were +mustering, and in the west the sky was still a pale, bright, almost +greenish blue. The tops of the pine trees and the roofs of Horsell came +out sharp and black against the western afterglow. The Martians and +their appliances were altogether invisible, save for that thin mast +upon which their restless mirror wobbled. Patches of bush and isolated +trees here and there smoked and glowed still, and the houses towards +Woking station were sending up spires of flame into the stillness of +the evening air. + +Nothing was changed save for that and a terrible astonishment. The +little group of black specks with the flag of white had been swept out +of existence, and the stillness of the evening, so it seemed to me, had +scarcely been broken. + +It came to me that I was upon this dark common, helpless, unprotected, +and alone. Suddenly, like a thing falling upon me from without, +came—fear. + +With an effort I turned and began a stumbling run through the heather. + +The fear I felt was no rational fear, but a panic terror not only of +the Martians, but of the dusk and stillness all about me. Such an +extraordinary effect in unmanning me it had that I ran weeping silently +as a child might do. Once I had turned, I did not dare to look back. + +I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played +with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this +mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me +from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down. + + + + +VI. +THE HEAT-RAY IN THE CHOBHAM ROAD. + + +It is still a matter of wonder how the Martians are able to slay men so +swiftly and so silently. Many think that in some way they are able to +generate an intense heat in a chamber of practically absolute +non-conductivity. This intense heat they project in a parallel beam +against any object they choose, by means of a polished parabolic mirror +of unknown composition, much as the parabolic mirror of a lighthouse +projects a beam of light. But no one has absolutely proved these +details. However it is done, it is certain that a beam of heat is the +essence of the matter. Heat, and invisible, instead of visible, light. +Whatever is combustible flashes into flame at its touch, lead runs like +water, it softens iron, cracks and melts glass, and when it falls upon +water, incontinently that explodes into steam. + +That night nearly forty people lay under the starlight about the pit, +charred and distorted beyond recognition, and all night long the common +from Horsell to Maybury was deserted and brightly ablaze. + +The news of the massacre probably reached Chobham, Woking, and +Ottershaw about the same time. In Woking the shops had closed when the +tragedy happened, and a number of people, shop people and so forth, +attracted by the stories they had heard, were walking over the Horsell +Bridge and along the road between the hedges that runs out at last upon +the common. You may imagine the young people brushed up after the +labours of the day, and making this novelty, as they would make any +novelty, the excuse for walking together and enjoying a trivial +flirtation. You may figure to yourself the hum of voices along the road +in the gloaming. . . . + +As yet, of course, few people in Woking even knew that the cylinder had +opened, though poor Henderson had sent a messenger on a bicycle to the +post office with a special wire to an evening paper. + +As these folks came out by twos and threes upon the open, they found +little knots of people talking excitedly and peering at the spinning +mirror over the sand-pits, and the newcomers were, no doubt, soon +infected by the excitement of the occasion. + +By half past eight, when the Deputation was destroyed, there may have +been a crowd of three hundred people or more at this place, besides +those who had left the road to approach the Martians nearer. There were +three policemen too, one of whom was mounted, doing their best, under +instructions from Stent, to keep the people back and deter them from +approaching the cylinder. There was some booing from those more +thoughtless and excitable souls to whom a crowd is always an occasion +for noise and horse-play. + +Stent and Ogilvy, anticipating some possibilities of a collision, had +telegraphed from Horsell to the barracks as soon as the Martians +emerged, for the help of a company of soldiers to protect these strange +creatures from violence. After that they returned to lead that +ill-fated advance. The description of their death, as it was seen by +the crowd, tallies very closely with my own impressions: the three +puffs of green smoke, the deep humming note, and the flashes of flame. + +But that crowd of people had a far narrower escape than mine. Only the +fact that a hummock of heathery sand intercepted the lower part of the +Heat-Ray saved them. Had the elevation of the parabolic mirror been a +few yards higher, none could have lived to tell the tale. They saw the +flashes and the men falling and an invisible hand, as it were, lit the +bushes as it hurried towards them through the twilight. Then, with a +whistling note that rose above the droning of the pit, the beam swung +close over their heads, lighting the tops of the beech trees that line +the road, and splitting the bricks, smashing the windows, firing the +window frames, and bringing down in crumbling ruin a portion of the +gable of the house nearest the corner. + +In the sudden thud, hiss, and glare of the igniting trees, the +panic-stricken crowd seems to have swayed hesitatingly for some +moments. Sparks and burning twigs began to fall into the road, and +single leaves like puffs of flame. Hats and dresses caught fire. Then +came a crying from the common. There were shrieks and shouts, and +suddenly a mounted policeman came galloping through the confusion with +his hands clasped over his head, screaming. + +“They’re coming!” a woman shrieked, and incontinently everyone was +turning and pushing at those behind, in order to clear their way to +Woking again. They must have bolted as blindly as a flock of sheep. +Where the road grows narrow and black between the high banks the crowd +jammed, and a desperate struggle occurred. All that crowd did not +escape; three persons at least, two women and a little boy, were +crushed and trampled there, and left to die amid the terror and the +darkness. + + + + +VII. +HOW I REACHED HOME. + + +For my own part, I remember nothing of my flight except the stress of +blundering against trees and stumbling through the heather. All about +me gathered the invisible terrors of the Martians; that pitiless sword +of heat seemed whirling to and fro, flourishing overhead before it +descended and smote me out of life. I came into the road between the +crossroads and Horsell, and ran along this to the crossroads. + +At last I could go no further; I was exhausted with the violence of my +emotion and of my flight, and I staggered and fell by the wayside. That +was near the bridge that crosses the canal by the gasworks. I fell and +lay still. + +I must have remained there some time. + +I sat up, strangely perplexed. For a moment, perhaps, I could not +clearly understand how I came there. My terror had fallen from me like +a garment. My hat had gone, and my collar had burst away from its +fastener. A few minutes before, there had only been three real things +before me—the immensity of the night and space and nature, my own +feebleness and anguish, and the near approach of death. Now it was as +if something turned over, and the point of view altered abruptly. There +was no sensible transition from one state of mind to the other. I was +immediately the self of every day again—a decent, ordinary citizen. The +silent common, the impulse of my flight, the starting flames, were as +if they had been in a dream. I asked myself had these latter things +indeed happened? I could not credit it. + +I rose and walked unsteadily up the steep incline of the bridge. My +mind was blank wonder. My muscles and nerves seemed drained of their +strength. I dare say I staggered drunkenly. A head rose over the arch, +and the figure of a workman carrying a basket appeared. Beside him ran +a little boy. He passed me, wishing me good night. I was minded to +speak to him, but did not. I answered his greeting with a meaningless +mumble and went on over the bridge. + +Over the Maybury arch a train, a billowing tumult of white, firelit +smoke, and a long caterpillar of lighted windows, went flying +south—clatter, clatter, clap, rap, and it had gone. A dim group of +people talked in the gate of one of the houses in the pretty little row +of gables that was called Oriental Terrace. It was all so real and so +familiar. And that behind me! It was frantic, fantastic! Such things, I +told myself, could not be. + +Perhaps I am a man of exceptional moods. I do not know how far my +experience is common. At times I suffer from the strangest sense of +detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all +from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, out +of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all. This feeling was +very strong upon me that night. Here was another side to my dream. + +But the trouble was the blank incongruity of this serenity and the +swift death flying yonder, not two miles away. There was a noise of +business from the gasworks, and the electric lamps were all alight. I +stopped at the group of people. + +“What news from the common?” said I. + +There were two men and a woman at the gate. + +“Eh?” said one of the men, turning. + +“What news from the common?” I said. + +“Ain’t yer just _been_ there?” asked the men. + +“People seem fair silly about the common,” said the woman over the +gate. “What’s it all abart?” + +“Haven’t you heard of the men from Mars?” said I; “the creatures from +Mars?” + +“Quite enough,” said the woman over the gate. “Thenks”; and all three +of them laughed. + +I felt foolish and angry. I tried and found I could not tell them what +I had seen. They laughed again at my broken sentences. + +“You’ll hear more yet,” I said, and went on to my home. + +I startled my wife at the doorway, so haggard was I. I went into the +dining room, sat down, drank some wine, and so soon as I could collect +myself sufficiently I told her the things I had seen. The dinner, which +was a cold one, had already been served, and remained neglected on the +table while I told my story. + +“There is one thing,” I said, to allay the fears I had aroused; “they +are the most sluggish things I ever saw crawl. They may keep the pit +and kill people who come near them, but they cannot get out of it. . . +. But the horror of them!” + +“Don’t, dear!” said my wife, knitting her brows and putting her hand on +mine. + +“Poor Ogilvy!” I said. “To think he may be lying dead there!” + +My wife at least did not find my experience incredible. When I saw how +deadly white her face was, I ceased abruptly. + +“They may come here,” she said again and again. + +I pressed her to take wine, and tried to reassure her. + +“They can scarcely move,” I said. + +I began to comfort her and myself by repeating all that Ogilvy had told +me of the impossibility of the Martians establishing themselves on the +earth. In particular I laid stress on the gravitational difficulty. On +the surface of the earth the force of gravity is three times what it is +on the surface of Mars. A Martian, therefore, would weigh three times +more than on Mars, albeit his muscular strength would be the same. His +own body would be a cope of lead to him, therefore. That, indeed, was +the general opinion. Both _The Times_ and the _Daily Telegraph_, for +instance, insisted on it the next morning, and both overlooked, just as +I did, two obvious modifying influences. + +The atmosphere of the earth, we now know, contains far more oxygen or +far less argon (whichever way one likes to put it) than does Mars’. The +invigorating influences of this excess of oxygen upon the Martians +indisputably did much to counterbalance the increased weight of their +bodies. And, in the second place, we all overlooked the fact that such +mechanical intelligence as the Martian possessed was quite able to +dispense with muscular exertion at a pinch. + +But I did not consider these points at the time, and so my reasoning +was dead against the chances of the invaders. With wine and food, the +confidence of my own table, and the necessity of reassuring my wife, I +grew by insensible degrees courageous and secure. + +“They have done a foolish thing,” said I, fingering my wineglass. “They +are dangerous because, no doubt, they are mad with terror. Perhaps they +expected to find no living things—certainly no intelligent living +things.” + +“A shell in the pit,” said I, “if the worst comes to the worst, will +kill them all.” + +The intense excitement of the events had no doubt left my perceptive +powers in a state of erethism. I remember that dinner table with +extraordinary vividness even now. My dear wife’s sweet anxious face +peering at me from under the pink lamp shade, the white cloth with its +silver and glass table furniture—for in those days even philosophical +writers had many little luxuries—the crimson-purple wine in my glass, +are photographically distinct. At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts +with a cigarette, regretting Ogilvy’s rashness, and denouncing the +short-sighted timidity of the Martians. + +So some respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have lorded it in his +nest, and discussed the arrival of that shipful of pitiless sailors in +want of animal food. “We will peck them to death tomorrow, my dear.” + +I did not know it, but that was the last civilised dinner I was to eat +for very many strange and terrible days. + + + + +VIII. +FRIDAY NIGHT. + + +The most extraordinary thing to my mind, of all the strange and +wonderful things that happened upon that Friday, was the dovetailing of +the commonplace habits of our social order with the first beginnings of +the series of events that was to topple that social order headlong. If +on Friday night you had taken a pair of compasses and drawn a circle +with a radius of five miles round the Woking sand-pits, I doubt if you +would have had one human being outside it, unless it were some relation +of Stent or of the three or four cyclists or London people lying dead +on the common, whose emotions or habits were at all affected by the +new-comers. Many people had heard of the cylinder, of course, and +talked about it in their leisure, but it certainly did not make the +sensation that an ultimatum to Germany would have done. + +In London that night poor Henderson’s telegram describing the gradual +unscrewing of the shot was judged to be a canard, and his evening +paper, after wiring for authentication from him and receiving no +reply—the man was killed—decided not to print a special edition. + +Even within the five-mile circle the great majority of people were +inert. I have already described the behaviour of the men and women to +whom I spoke. All over the district people were dining and supping; +working men were gardening after the labours of the day, children were +being put to bed, young people were wandering through the lanes +love-making, students sat over their books. + +Maybe there was a murmur in the village streets, a novel and dominant +topic in the public-houses, and here and there a messenger, or even an +eye-witness of the later occurrences, caused a whirl of excitement, a +shouting, and a running to and fro; but for the most part the daily +routine of working, eating, drinking, sleeping, went on as it had done +for countless years—as though no planet Mars existed in the sky. Even +at Woking station and Horsell and Chobham that was the case. + +In Woking junction, until a late hour, trains were stopping and going +on, others were shunting on the sidings, passengers were alighting and +waiting, and everything was proceeding in the most ordinary way. A boy +from the town, trenching on Smith’s monopoly, was selling papers with +the afternoon’s news. The ringing impact of trucks, the sharp whistle +of the engines from the junction, mingled with their shouts of “Men +from Mars!” Excited men came into the station about nine o’clock with +incredible tidings, and caused no more disturbance than drunkards might +have done. People rattling Londonwards peered into the darkness outside +the carriage windows, and saw only a rare, flickering, vanishing spark +dance up from the direction of Horsell, a red glow and a thin veil of +smoke driving across the stars, and thought that nothing more serious +than a heath fire was happening. It was only round the edge of the +common that any disturbance was perceptible. There were half a dozen +villas burning on the Woking border. There were lights in all the +houses on the common side of the three villages, and the people there +kept awake till dawn. + +A curious crowd lingered restlessly, people coming and going but the +crowd remaining, both on the Chobham and Horsell bridges. One or two +adventurous souls, it was afterwards found, went into the darkness and +crawled quite near the Martians; but they never returned, for now and +again a light-ray, like the beam of a warship’s searchlight swept the +common, and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow. Save for such, that big +area of common was silent and desolate, and the charred bodies lay +about on it all night under the stars, and all the next day. A noise of +hammering from the pit was heard by many people. + +So you have the state of things on Friday night. In the centre, +sticking into the skin of our old planet Earth like a poisoned dart, +was this cylinder. But the poison was scarcely working yet. Around it +was a patch of silent common, smouldering in places, and with a few +dark, dimly seen objects lying in contorted attitudes here and there. +Here and there was a burning bush or tree. Beyond was a fringe of +excitement, and farther than that fringe the inflammation had not crept +as yet. In the rest of the world the stream of life still flowed as it +had flowed for immemorial years. The fever of war that would presently +clog vein and artery, deaden nerve and destroy brain, had still to +develop. + +All night long the Martians were hammering and stirring, sleepless, +indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making ready, and +ever and again a puff of greenish-white smoke whirled up to the starlit +sky. + +About eleven a company of soldiers came through Horsell, and deployed +along the edge of the common to form a cordon. Later a second company +marched through Chobham to deploy on the north side of the common. +Several officers from the Inkerman barracks had been on the common +earlier in the day, and one, Major Eden, was reported to be missing. +The colonel of the regiment came to the Chobham bridge and was busy +questioning the crowd at midnight. The military authorities were +certainly alive to the seriousness of the business. About eleven, the +next morning’s papers were able to say, a squadron of hussars, two +Maxims, and about four hundred men of the Cardigan regiment started +from Aldershot. + +A few seconds after midnight the crowd in the Chertsey road, Woking, +saw a star fall from heaven into the pine woods to the northwest. It +had a greenish colour, and caused a silent brightness like summer +lightning. This was the second cylinder. + + + + +IX. +THE FIGHTING BEGINS. + + +Saturday lives in my memory as a day of suspense. It was a day of +lassitude too, hot and close, with, I am told, a rapidly fluctuating +barometer. I had slept but little, though my wife had succeeded in +sleeping, and I rose early. I went into my garden before breakfast and +stood listening, but towards the common there was nothing stirring but +a lark. + +The milkman came as usual. I heard the rattle of his chariot and I went +round to the side gate to ask the latest news. He told me that during +the night the Martians had been surrounded by troops, and that guns +were expected. Then—a familiar, reassuring note—I heard a train running +towards Woking. + +“They aren’t to be killed,” said the milkman, “if that can possibly be +avoided.” + +I saw my neighbour gardening, chatted with him for a time, and then +strolled in to breakfast. It was a most unexceptional morning. My +neighbour was of opinion that the troops would be able to capture or to +destroy the Martians during the day. + +“It’s a pity they make themselves so unapproachable,” he said. “It +would be curious to know how they live on another planet; we might +learn a thing or two.” + +He came up to the fence and extended a handful of strawberries, for his +gardening was as generous as it was enthusiastic. At the same time he +told me of the burning of the pine woods about the Byfleet Golf Links. + +“They say,” said he, “that there’s another of those blessed things +fallen there—number two. But one’s enough, surely. This lot’ll cost the +insurance people a pretty penny before everything’s settled.” He +laughed with an air of the greatest good humour as he said this. The +woods, he said, were still burning, and pointed out a haze of smoke to +me. “They will be hot under foot for days, on account of the thick soil +of pine needles and turf,” he said, and then grew serious over “poor +Ogilvy.” + +After breakfast, instead of working, I decided to walk down towards the +common. Under the railway bridge I found a group of soldiers—sappers, I +think, men in small round caps, dirty red jackets unbuttoned, and +showing their blue shirts, dark trousers, and boots coming to the calf. +They told me no one was allowed over the canal, and, looking along the +road towards the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing +sentinel there. I talked with these soldiers for a time; I told them of +my sight of the Martians on the previous evening. None of them had seen +the Martians, and they had but the vaguest ideas of them, so that they +plied me with questions. They said that they did not know who had +authorised the movements of the troops; their idea was that a dispute +had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper is a great deal +better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the +peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I +described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among +themselves. + +“Crawl up under cover and rush ’em, say I,” said one. + +“Get aht!” said another. “What’s cover against this ’ere ’eat? Sticks +to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near as the ground’ll let +us, and then drive a trench.” + +“Blow yer trenches! You always want trenches; you ought to ha’ been +born a rabbit Snippy.” + +“Ain’t they got any necks, then?” said a third, abruptly—a little, +contemplative, dark man, smoking a pipe. + +I repeated my description. + +“Octopuses,” said he, “that’s what I calls ’em. Talk about fishers of +men—fighters of fish it is this time!” + +“It ain’t no murder killing beasts like that,” said the first speaker. + +“Why not shell the darned things strite off and finish ’em?” said the +little dark man. “You carn tell what they might do.” + +“Where’s your shells?” said the first speaker. “There ain’t no time. Do +it in a rush, that’s my tip, and do it at once.” + +So they discussed it. After a while I left them, and went on to the +railway station to get as many morning papers as I could. + +But I will not weary the reader with a description of that long morning +and of the longer afternoon. I did not succeed in getting a glimpse of +the common, for even Horsell and Chobham church towers were in the +hands of the military authorities. The soldiers I addressed didn’t know +anything; the officers were mysterious as well as busy. I found people +in the town quite secure again in the presence of the military, and I +heard for the first time from Marshall, the tobacconist, that his son +was among the dead on the common. The soldiers had made the people on +the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses. + +I got back to lunch about two, very tired for, as I have said, the day +was extremely hot and dull; and in order to refresh myself I took a +cold bath in the afternoon. About half past four I went up to the +railway station to get an evening paper, for the morning papers had +contained only a very inaccurate description of the killing of Stent, +Henderson, Ogilvy, and the others. But there was little I didn’t know. +The Martians did not show an inch of themselves. They seemed busy in +their pit, and there was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous +streamer of smoke. Apparently they were busy getting ready for a +struggle. “Fresh attempts have been made to signal, but without +success,” was the stereotyped formula of the papers. A sapper told me +it was done by a man in a ditch with a flag on a long pole. The +Martians took as much notice of such advances as we should of the +lowing of a cow. + +I must confess the sight of all this armament, all this preparation, +greatly excited me. My imagination became belligerent, and defeated the +invaders in a dozen striking ways; something of my schoolboy dreams of +battle and heroism came back. It hardly seemed a fair fight to me at +that time. They seemed very helpless in that pit of theirs. + +About three o’clock there began the thud of a gun at measured intervals +from Chertsey or Addlestone. I learned that the smouldering pine wood +into which the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled, in the +hope of destroying that object before it opened. It was only about +five, however, that a field gun reached Chobham for use against the +first body of Martians. + +About six in the evening, as I sat at tea with my wife in the +summerhouse talking vigorously about the battle that was lowering upon +us, I heard a muffled detonation from the common, and immediately after +a gust of firing. Close on the heels of that came a violent rattling +crash, quite close to us, that shook the ground; and, starting out upon +the lawn, I saw the tops of the trees about the Oriental College burst +into smoky red flame, and the tower of the little church beside it +slide down into ruin. The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished, and the +roof line of the college itself looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been +at work upon it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it, +flew, and a piece of it came clattering down the tiles and made a heap +of broken red fragments upon the flower bed by my study window. + +I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury +Hill must be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray now that the +college was cleared out of the way. + +At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into +the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go +upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for. + +“We can’t possibly stay here,” I said; and as I spoke the firing +reopened for a moment upon the common. + +“But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror. + +I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead. + +“Leatherhead!” I shouted above the sudden noise. + +She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their +houses, astonished. + +“How are we to get to Leatherhead?” she said. + +Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars ride under the railway bridge; +three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College; two +others dismounted, and began running from house to house. The sun, +shining through the smoke that drove up from the tops of the trees, +seemed blood red, and threw an unfamiliar lurid light upon everything. + +“Stop here,” said I; “you are safe here”; and I started off at once for +the Spotted Dog, for I knew the landlord had a horse and dog cart. I +ran, for I perceived that in a moment everyone upon this side of the +hill would be moving. I found him in his bar, quite unaware of what was +going on behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to +him. + +“I must have a pound,” said the landlord, “and I’ve no one to drive +it.” + +“I’ll give you two,” said I, over the stranger’s shoulder. + +“What for?” + +“And I’ll bring it back by midnight,” I said. + +“Lord!” said the landlord; “what’s the hurry? I’m selling my bit of a +pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What’s going on now?” + +I explained hastily that I had to leave my home, and so secured the dog +cart. At the time it did not seem to me nearly so urgent that the +landlord should leave his. I took care to have the cart there and then, +drove it off down the road, and, leaving it in charge of my wife and +servant, rushed into my house and packed a few valuables, such plate as +we had, and so forth. The beech trees below the house were burning +while I did this, and the palings up the road glowed red. While I was +occupied in this way, one of the dismounted hussars came running up. He +was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was going on +as I came out of my front door, lugging my treasures, done up in a +tablecloth. I shouted after him: + +“What news?” + +He turned, stared, bawled something about “crawling out in a thing like +a dish cover,” and ran on to the gate of the house at the crest. A +sudden whirl of black smoke driving across the road hid him for a +moment. I ran to my neighbour’s door and rapped to satisfy myself of +what I already knew, that his wife had gone to London with him and had +locked up their house. I went in again, according to my promise, to get +my servant’s box, lugged it out, clapped it beside her on the tail of +the dog cart, and then caught the reins and jumped up into the driver’s +seat beside my wife. In another moment we were clear of the smoke and +noise, and spanking down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill towards Old +Woking. + +In front was a quiet sunny landscape, a wheat field ahead on either +side of the road, and the Maybury Inn with its swinging sign. I saw the +doctor’s cart ahead of me. At the bottom of the hill I turned my head +to look at the hillside I was leaving. Thick streamers of black smoke +shot with threads of red fire were driving up into the still air, and +throwing dark shadows upon the green treetops eastward. The smoke +already extended far away to the east and west—to the Byfleet pine +woods eastward, and to Woking on the west. The road was dotted with +people running towards us. And very faint now, but very distinct +through the hot, quiet air, one heard the whirr of a machine-gun that +was presently stilled, and an intermittent cracking of rifles. +Apparently the Martians were setting fire to everything within range of +their Heat-Ray. + +I am not an expert driver, and I had immediately to turn my attention +to the horse. When I looked back again the second hill had hidden the +black smoke. I slashed the horse with the whip, and gave him a loose +rein until Woking and Send lay between us and that quivering tumult. I +overtook and passed the doctor between Woking and Send. + + + + +X. +IN THE STORM. + + +Leatherhead is about twelve miles from Maybury Hill. The scent of hay +was in the air through the lush meadows beyond Pyrford, and the hedges +on either side were sweet and gay with multitudes of dog-roses. The +heavy firing that had broken out while we were driving down Maybury +Hill ceased as abruptly as it began, leaving the evening very peaceful +and still. We got to Leatherhead without misadventure about nine +o’clock, and the horse had an hour’s rest while I took supper with my +cousins and commended my wife to their care. + +My wife was curiously silent throughout the drive, and seemed oppressed +with forebodings of evil. I talked to her reassuringly, pointing out +that the Martians were tied to the pit by sheer heaviness, and at the +utmost could but crawl a little out of it; but she answered only in +monosyllables. Had it not been for my promise to the innkeeper, she +would, I think, have urged me to stay in Leatherhead that night. Would +that I had! Her face, I remember, was very white as we parted. + +For my own part, I had been feverishly excited all day. Something very +like the war fever that occasionally runs through a civilised community +had got into my blood, and in my heart I was not so very sorry that I +had to return to Maybury that night. I was even afraid that that last +fusillade I had heard might mean the extermination of our invaders from +Mars. I can best express my state of mind by saying that I wanted to be +in at the death. + +It was nearly eleven when I started to return. The night was +unexpectedly dark; to me, walking out of the lighted passage of my +cousins’ house, it seemed indeed black, and it was as hot and close as +the day. Overhead the clouds were driving fast, albeit not a breath +stirred the shrubs about us. My cousins’ man lit both lamps. Happily, I +knew the road intimately. My wife stood in the light of the doorway, +and watched me until I jumped up into the dog cart. Then abruptly she +turned and went in, leaving my cousins side by side wishing me good +hap. + +I was a little depressed at first with the contagion of my wife’s +fears, but very soon my thoughts reverted to the Martians. At that time +I was absolutely in the dark as to the course of the evening’s +fighting. I did not know even the circumstances that had precipitated +the conflict. As I came through Ockham (for that was the way I +returned, and not through Send and Old Woking) I saw along the western +horizon a blood-red glow, which as I drew nearer, crept slowly up the +sky. The driving clouds of the gathering thunderstorm mingled there +with masses of black and red smoke. + +Ripley Street was deserted, and except for a lighted window or so the +village showed not a sign of life; but I narrowly escaped an accident +at the corner of the road to Pyrford, where a knot of people stood with +their backs to me. They said nothing to me as I passed. I do not know +what they knew of the things happening beyond the hill, nor do I know +if the silent houses I passed on my way were sleeping securely, or +deserted and empty, or harassed and watching against the terror of the +night. + +From Ripley until I came through Pyrford I was in the valley of the +Wey, and the red glare was hidden from me. As I ascended the little +hill beyond Pyrford Church the glare came into view again, and the +trees about me shivered with the first intimation of the storm that was +upon me. Then I heard midnight pealing out from Pyrford Church behind +me, and then came the silhouette of Maybury Hill, with its tree-tops +and roofs black and sharp against the red. + +Even as I beheld this a lurid green glare lit the road about me and +showed the distant woods towards Addlestone. I felt a tug at the reins. +I saw that the driving clouds had been pierced as it were by a thread +of green fire, suddenly lighting their confusion and falling into the +field to my left. It was the third falling star! + +Close on its apparition, and blindingly violet by contrast, danced out +the first lightning of the gathering storm, and the thunder burst like +a rocket overhead. The horse took the bit between his teeth and bolted. + +A moderate incline runs towards the foot of Maybury Hill, and down this +we clattered. Once the lightning had begun, it went on in as rapid a +succession of flashes as I have ever seen. The thunderclaps, treading +one on the heels of another and with a strange crackling accompaniment, +sounded more like the working of a gigantic electric machine than the +usual detonating reverberations. The flickering light was blinding and +confusing, and a thin hail smote gustily at my face as I drove down the +slope. + +At first I regarded little but the road before me, and then abruptly my +attention was arrested by something that was moving rapidly down the +opposite slope of Maybury Hill. At first I took it for the wet roof of +a house, but one flash following another showed it to be in swift +rolling movement. It was an elusive vision—a moment of bewildering +darkness, and then, in a flash like daylight, the red masses of the +Orphanage near the crest of the hill, the green tops of the pine trees, +and this problematical object came out clear and sharp and bright. + +And this Thing I saw! How can I describe it? A monstrous tripod, higher +than many houses, striding over the young pine trees, and smashing them +aside in its career; a walking engine of glittering metal, striding now +across the heather; articulate ropes of steel dangling from it, and the +clattering tumult of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder. +A flash, and it came out vividly, heeling over one way with two feet in +the air, to vanish and reappear almost instantly as it seemed, with the +next flash, a hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool +tilted and bowled violently along the ground? That was the impression +those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool imagine it a +great body of machinery on a tripod stand. + +Then suddenly the trees in the pine wood ahead of me were parted, as +brittle reeds are parted by a man thrusting through them; they were +snapped off and driven headlong, and a second huge tripod appeared, +rushing, as it seemed, headlong towards me. And I was galloping hard to +meet it! At the sight of the second monster my nerve went altogether. +Not stopping to look again, I wrenched the horse’s head hard round to +the right and in another moment the dog cart had heeled over upon the +horse; the shafts smashed noisily, and I was flung sideways and fell +heavily into a shallow pool of water. + +I crawled out almost immediately, and crouched, my feet still in the +water, under a clump of furze. The horse lay motionless (his neck was +broken, poor brute!) and by the lightning flashes I saw the black bulk +of the overturned dog cart and the silhouette of the wheel still +spinning slowly. In another moment the colossal mechanism went striding +by me, and passed uphill towards Pyrford. + +Seen nearer, the Thing was incredibly strange, for it was no mere +insensate machine driving on its way. Machine it was, with a ringing +metallic pace, and long, flexible, glittering tentacles (one of which +gripped a young pine tree) swinging and rattling about its strange +body. It picked its road as it went striding along, and the brazen hood +that surmounted it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of a +head looking about. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal +like a gigantic fisherman’s basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted +out from the joints of the limbs as the monster swept by me. And in an +instant it was gone. + +So much I saw then, all vaguely for the flickering of the lightning, in +blinding highlights and dense black shadows. + +As it passed it set up an exultant deafening howl that drowned the +thunder—“Aloo! Aloo!”—and in another minute it was with its companion, +half a mile away, stooping over something in the field. I have no doubt +this Thing in the field was the third of the ten cylinders they had +fired at us from Mars. + +For some minutes I lay there in the rain and darkness watching, by the +intermittent light, these monstrous beings of metal moving about in the +distance over the hedge tops. A thin hail was now beginning, and as it +came and went their figures grew misty and then flashed into clearness +again. Now and then came a gap in the lightning, and the night +swallowed them up. + +I was soaked with hail above and puddle water below. It was some time +before my blank astonishment would let me struggle up the bank to a +drier position, or think at all of my imminent peril. + +Not far from me was a little one-roomed squatter’s hut of wood, +surrounded by a patch of potato garden. I struggled to my feet at last, +and, crouching and making use of every chance of cover, I made a run +for this. I hammered at the door, but I could not make the people hear +(if there were any people inside), and after a time I desisted, and, +availing myself of a ditch for the greater part of the way, succeeded +in crawling, unobserved by these monstrous machines, into the pine +woods towards Maybury. + +Under cover of this I pushed on, wet and shivering now, towards my own +house. I walked among the trees trying to find the footpath. It was +very dark indeed in the wood, for the lightning was now becoming +infrequent, and the hail, which was pouring down in a torrent, fell in +columns through the gaps in the heavy foliage. + +If I had fully realised the meaning of all the things I had seen I +should have immediately worked my way round through Byfleet to Street +Cobham, and so gone back to rejoin my wife at Leatherhead. But that +night the strangeness of things about me, and my physical wretchedness, +prevented me, for I was bruised, weary, wet to the skin, deafened and +blinded by the storm. + +I had a vague idea of going on to my own house, and that was as much +motive as I had. I staggered through the trees, fell into a ditch and +bruised my knees against a plank, and finally splashed out into the +lane that ran down from the College Arms. I say splashed, for the storm +water was sweeping the sand down the hill in a muddy torrent. There in +the darkness a man blundered into me and sent me reeling back. + +He gave a cry of terror, sprang sideways, and rushed on before I could +gather my wits sufficiently to speak to him. So heavy was the stress of +the storm just at this place that I had the hardest task to win my way +up the hill. I went close up to the fence on the left and worked my way +along its palings. + +Near the top I stumbled upon something soft, and, by a flash of +lightning, saw between my feet a heap of black broadcloth and a pair of +boots. Before I could distinguish clearly how the man lay, the flicker +of light had passed. I stood over him waiting for the next flash. When +it came, I saw that he was a sturdy man, cheaply but not shabbily +dressed; his head was bent under his body, and he lay crumpled up close +to the fence, as though he had been flung violently against it. + +Overcoming the repugnance natural to one who had never before touched a +dead body, I stooped and turned him over to feel for his heart. He was +quite dead. Apparently his neck had been broken. The lightning flashed +for a third time, and his face leaped upon me. I sprang to my feet. It +was the landlord of the Spotted Dog, whose conveyance I had taken. + +I stepped over him gingerly and pushed on up the hill. I made my way by +the police station and the College Arms towards my own house. Nothing +was burning on the hillside, though from the common there still came a +red glare and a rolling tumult of ruddy smoke beating up against the +drenching hail. So far as I could see by the flashes, the houses about +me were mostly uninjured. By the College Arms a dark heap lay in the +road. + +Down the road towards Maybury Bridge there were voices and the sound of +feet, but I had not the courage to shout or to go to them. I let myself +in with my latchkey, closed, locked and bolted the door, staggered to +the foot of the staircase, and sat down. My imagination was full of +those striding metallic monsters, and of the dead body smashed against +the fence. + +I crouched at the foot of the staircase with my back to the wall, +shivering violently. + + + + +XI. +AT THE WINDOW. + + +I have already said that my storms of emotion have a trick of +exhausting themselves. After a time I discovered that I was cold and +wet, and with little pools of water about me on the stair carpet. I got +up almost mechanically, went into the dining room and drank some +whisky, and then I was moved to change my clothes. + +After I had done that I went upstairs to my study, but why I did so I +do not know. The window of my study looks over the trees and the +railway towards Horsell Common. In the hurry of our departure this +window had been left open. The passage was dark, and, by contrast with +the picture the window frame enclosed, the side of the room seemed +impenetrably dark. I stopped short in the doorway. + +The thunderstorm had passed. The towers of the Oriental College and the +pine trees about it had gone, and very far away, lit by a vivid red +glare, the common about the sand-pits was visible. Across the light +huge black shapes, grotesque and strange, moved busily to and fro. + +It seemed indeed as if the whole country in that direction was on +fire—a broad hillside set with minute tongues of flame, swaying and +writhing with the gusts of the dying storm, and throwing a red +reflection upon the cloud scud above. Every now and then a haze of +smoke from some nearer conflagration drove across the window and hid +the Martian shapes. I could not see what they were doing, nor the clear +form of them, nor recognise the black objects they were busied upon. +Neither could I see the nearer fire, though the reflections of it +danced on the wall and ceiling of the study. A sharp, resinous tang of +burning was in the air. + +I closed the door noiselessly and crept towards the window. As I did +so, the view opened out until, on the one hand, it reached to the +houses about Woking station, and on the other to the charred and +blackened pine woods of Byfleet. There was a light down below the hill, +on the railway, near the arch, and several of the houses along the +Maybury road and the streets near the station were glowing ruins. The +light upon the railway puzzled me at first; there were a black heap and +a vivid glare, and to the right of that a row of yellow oblongs. Then I +perceived this was a wrecked train, the fore part smashed and on fire, +the hinder carriages still upon the rails. + +Between these three main centres of light—the houses, the train, and +the burning county towards Chobham—stretched irregular patches of dark +country, broken here and there by intervals of dimly glowing and +smoking ground. It was the strangest spectacle, that black expanse set +with fire. It reminded me, more than anything else, of the Potteries at +night. At first I could distinguish no people at all, though I peered +intently for them. Later I saw against the light of Woking station a +number of black figures hurrying one after the other across the line. + +And this was the little world in which I had been living securely for +years, this fiery chaos! What had happened in the last seven hours I +still did not know; nor did I know, though I was beginning to guess, +the relation between these mechanical colossi and the sluggish lumps I +had seen disgorged from the cylinder. With a queer feeling of +impersonal interest I turned my desk chair to the window, sat down, and +stared at the blackened country, and particularly at the three gigantic +black things that were going to and fro in the glare about the +sand-pits. + +They seemed amazingly busy. I began to ask myself what they could be. +Were they intelligent mechanisms? Such a thing I felt was impossible. +Or did a Martian sit within each, ruling, directing, using, much as a +man’s brain sits and rules in his body? I began to compare the things +to human machines, to ask myself for the first time in my life how an +ironclad or a steam engine would seem to an intelligent lower animal. + +The storm had left the sky clear, and over the smoke of the burning +land the little fading pinpoint of Mars was dropping into the west, +when a soldier came into my garden. I heard a slight scraping at the +fence, and rousing myself from the lethargy that had fallen upon me, I +looked down and saw him dimly, clambering over the palings. At the +sight of another human being my torpor passed, and I leaned out of the +window eagerly. + +“Hist!” said I, in a whisper. + +He stopped astride of the fence in doubt. Then he came over and across +the lawn to the corner of the house. He bent down and stepped softly. + +“Who’s there?” he said, also whispering, standing under the window and +peering up. + +“Where are you going?” I asked. + +“God knows.” + +“Are you trying to hide?” + +“That’s it.” + +“Come into the house,” I said. + +I went down, unfastened the door, and let him in, and locked the door +again. I could not see his face. He was hatless, and his coat was +unbuttoned. + +“My God!” he said, as I drew him in. + +“What has happened?” I asked. + +“What hasn’t?” In the obscurity I could see he made a gesture of +despair. “They wiped us out—simply wiped us out,” he repeated again and +again. + +He followed me, almost mechanically, into the dining room. + +“Take some whisky,” I said, pouring out a stiff dose. + +He drank it. Then abruptly he sat down before the table, put his head +on his arms, and began to sob and weep like a little boy, in a perfect +passion of emotion, while I, with a curious forgetfulness of my own +recent despair, stood beside him, wondering. + +It was a long time before he could steady his nerves to answer my +questions, and then he answered perplexingly and brokenly. He was a +driver in the artillery, and had only come into action about seven. At +that time firing was going on across the common, and it was said the +first party of Martians were crawling slowly towards their second +cylinder under cover of a metal shield. + +Later this shield staggered up on tripod legs and became the first of +the fighting-machines I had seen. The gun he drove had been unlimbered +near Horsell, in order to command the sand-pits, and its arrival it was +that had precipitated the action. As the limber gunners went to the +rear, his horse trod in a rabbit hole and came down, throwing him into +a depression of the ground. At the same moment the gun exploded behind +him, the ammunition blew up, there was fire all about him, and he found +himself lying under a heap of charred dead men and dead horses. + +“I lay still,” he said, “scared out of my wits, with the fore quarter +of a horse atop of me. We’d been wiped out. And the smell—good God! +Like burnt meat! I was hurt across the back by the fall of the horse, +and there I had to lie until I felt better. Just like parade it had +been a minute before—then stumble, bang, swish!” + +“Wiped out!” he said. + +He had hid under the dead horse for a long time, peeping out furtively +across the common. The Cardigan men had tried a rush, in skirmishing +order, at the pit, simply to be swept out of existence. Then the +monster had risen to its feet and had begun to walk leisurely to and +fro across the common among the few fugitives, with its headlike hood +turning about exactly like the head of a cowled human being. A kind of +arm carried a complicated metallic case, about which green flashes +scintillated, and out of the funnel of this there smoked the Heat-Ray. + +In a few minutes there was, so far as the soldier could see, not a +living thing left upon the common, and every bush and tree upon it that +was not already a blackened skeleton was burning. The hussars had been +on the road beyond the curvature of the ground, and he saw nothing of +them. He heard the Maxims rattle for a time and then become still. The +giant saved Woking station and its cluster of houses until the last; +then in a moment the Heat-Ray was brought to bear, and the town became +a heap of fiery ruins. Then the Thing shut off the Heat-Ray, and +turning its back upon the artilleryman, began to waddle away towards +the smouldering pine woods that sheltered the second cylinder. As it +did so a second glittering Titan built itself up out of the pit. + +The second monster followed the first, and at that the artilleryman +began to crawl very cautiously across the hot heather ash towards +Horsell. He managed to get alive into the ditch by the side of the +road, and so escaped to Woking. There his story became ejaculatory. The +place was impassable. It seems there were a few people alive there, +frantic for the most part and many burned and scalded. He was turned +aside by the fire, and hid among some almost scorching heaps of broken +wall as one of the Martian giants returned. He saw this one pursue a +man, catch him up in one of its steely tentacles, and knock his head +against the trunk of a pine tree. At last, after nightfall, the +artilleryman made a rush for it and got over the railway embankment. + +Since then he had been skulking along towards Maybury, in the hope of +getting out of danger Londonward. People were hiding in trenches and +cellars, and many of the survivors had made off towards Woking village +and Send. He had been consumed with thirst until he found one of the +water mains near the railway arch smashed, and the water bubbling out +like a spring upon the road. + +That was the story I got from him, bit by bit. He grew calmer telling +me and trying to make me see the things he had seen. He had eaten no +food since midday, he told me early in his narrative, and I found some +mutton and bread in the pantry and brought it into the room. We lit no +lamp for fear of attracting the Martians, and ever and again our hands +would touch upon bread or meat. As he talked, things about us came +darkly out of the darkness, and the trampled bushes and broken rose +trees outside the window grew distinct. It would seem that a number of +men or animals had rushed across the lawn. I began to see his face, +blackened and haggard, as no doubt mine was also. + +When we had finished eating we went softly upstairs to my study, and I +looked again out of the open window. In one night the valley had become +a valley of ashes. The fires had dwindled now. Where flames had been +there were now streamers of smoke; but the countless ruins of shattered +and gutted houses and blasted and blackened trees that the night had +hidden stood out now gaunt and terrible in the pitiless light of dawn. +Yet here and there some object had had the luck to escape—a white +railway signal here, the end of a greenhouse there, white and fresh +amid the wreckage. Never before in the history of warfare had +destruction been so indiscriminate and so universal. And shining with +the growing light of the east, three of the metallic giants stood about +the pit, their cowls rotating as though they were surveying the +desolation they had made. + +It seemed to me that the pit had been enlarged, and ever and again +puffs of vivid green vapour streamed up and out of it towards the +brightening dawn—streamed up, whirled, broke, and vanished. + +Beyond were the pillars of fire about Chobham. They became pillars of +bloodshot smoke at the first touch of day. + + + + +XII. +WHAT I SAW OF THE DESTRUCTION OF WEYBRIDGE AND SHEPPERTON. + + +As the dawn grew brighter we withdrew from the window from which we had +watched the Martians, and went very quietly downstairs. + +The artilleryman agreed with me that the house was no place to stay in. +He proposed, he said, to make his way Londonward, and thence rejoin his +battery—No. 12, of the Horse Artillery. My plan was to return at once +to Leatherhead; and so greatly had the strength of the Martians +impressed me that I had determined to take my wife to Newhaven, and go +with her out of the country forthwith. For I already perceived clearly +that the country about London must inevitably be the scene of a +disastrous struggle before such creatures as these could be destroyed. + +Between us and Leatherhead, however, lay the third cylinder, with its +guarding giants. Had I been alone, I think I should have taken my +chance and struck across country. But the artilleryman dissuaded me: +“It’s no kindness to the right sort of wife,” he said, “to make her a +widow”; and in the end I agreed to go with him, under cover of the +woods, northward as far as Street Cobham before I parted with him. +Thence I would make a big detour by Epsom to reach Leatherhead. + +I should have started at once, but my companion had been in active +service and he knew better than that. He made me ransack the house for +a flask, which he filled with whisky; and we lined every available +pocket with packets of biscuits and slices of meat. Then we crept out +of the house, and ran as quickly as we could down the ill-made road by +which I had come overnight. The houses seemed deserted. In the road lay +a group of three charred bodies close together, struck dead by the +Heat-Ray; and here and there were things that people had dropped—a +clock, a slipper, a silver spoon, and the like poor valuables. At the +corner turning up towards the post office a little cart, filled with +boxes and furniture, and horseless, heeled over on a broken wheel. A +cash box had been hastily smashed open and thrown under the debris. + +Except the lodge at the Orphanage, which was still on fire, none of the +houses had suffered very greatly here. The Heat-Ray had shaved the +chimney tops and passed. Yet, save ourselves, there did not seem to be +a living soul on Maybury Hill. The majority of the inhabitants had +escaped, I suppose, by way of the Old Woking road—the road I had taken +when I drove to Leatherhead—or they had hidden. + +We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now from +the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the hill. +We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a soul. The +woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened ruins of +woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain proportion +still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage instead of +green. + +On our side the fire had done no more than scorch the nearer trees; it +had failed to secure its footing. In one place the woodmen had been at +work on Saturday; trees, felled and freshly trimmed, lay in a clearing, +with heaps of sawdust by the sawing-machine and its engine. Hard by was +a temporary hut, deserted. There was not a breath of wind this morning, +and everything was strangely still. Even the birds were hushed, and as +we hurried along I and the artilleryman talked in whispers and looked +now and again over our shoulders. Once or twice we stopped to listen. + +After a time we drew near the road, and as we did so we heard the +clatter of hoofs and saw through the tree stems three cavalry soldiers +riding slowly towards Woking. We hailed them, and they halted while we +hurried towards them. It was a lieutenant and a couple of privates of +the 8th Hussars, with a stand like a theodolite, which the artilleryman +told me was a heliograph. + +“You are the first men I’ve seen coming this way this morning,” said +the lieutenant. “What’s brewing?” + +His voice and face were eager. The men behind him stared curiously. The +artilleryman jumped down the bank into the road and saluted. + +“Gun destroyed last night, sir. Have been hiding. Trying to rejoin +battery, sir. You’ll come in sight of the Martians, I expect, about +half a mile along this road.” + +“What the dickens are they like?” asked the lieutenant. + +“Giants in armour, sir. Hundred feet high. Three legs and a body like +’luminium, with a mighty great head in a hood, sir.” + +“Get out!” said the lieutenant. “What confounded nonsense!” + +“You’ll see, sir. They carry a kind of box, sir, that shoots fire and +strikes you dead.” + +“What d’ye mean—a gun?” + +“No, sir,” and the artilleryman began a vivid account of the Heat-Ray. +Halfway through, the lieutenant interrupted him and looked up at me. I +was still standing on the bank by the side of the road. + +“It’s perfectly true,” I said. + +“Well,” said the lieutenant, “I suppose it’s my business to see it too. +Look here”—to the artilleryman—“we’re detailed here clearing people out +of their houses. You’d better go along and report yourself to +Brigadier-General Marvin, and tell him all you know. He’s at Weybridge. +Know the way?” + +“I do,” I said; and he turned his horse southward again. + +“Half a mile, you say?” said he. + +“At most,” I answered, and pointed over the treetops southward. He +thanked me and rode on, and we saw them no more. + +Farther along we came upon a group of three women and two children in +the road, busy clearing out a labourer’s cottage. They had got hold of +a little hand truck, and were piling it up with unclean-looking bundles +and shabby furniture. They were all too assiduously engaged to talk to +us as we passed. + +By Byfleet station we emerged from the pine trees, and found the +country calm and peaceful under the morning sunlight. We were far +beyond the range of the Heat-Ray there, and had it not been for the +silent desertion of some of the houses, the stirring movement of +packing in others, and the knot of soldiers standing on the bridge over +the railway and staring down the line towards Woking, the day would +have seemed very like any other Sunday. + +Several farm waggons and carts were moving creakily along the road to +Addlestone, and suddenly through the gate of a field we saw, across a +stretch of flat meadow, six twelve-pounders standing neatly at equal +distances pointing towards Woking. The gunners stood by the guns +waiting, and the ammunition waggons were at a business-like distance. +The men stood almost as if under inspection. + +“That’s good!” said I. “They will get one fair shot, at any rate.” + +The artilleryman hesitated at the gate. + +“I shall go on,” he said. + +Farther on towards Weybridge, just over the bridge, there were a number +of men in white fatigue jackets throwing up a long rampart, and more +guns behind. + +“It’s bows and arrows against the lightning, anyhow,” said the +artilleryman. “They ’aven’t seen that fire-beam yet.” + +The officers who were not actively engaged stood and stared over the +treetops southwestward, and the men digging would stop every now and +again to stare in the same direction. + +Byfleet was in a tumult; people packing, and a score of hussars, some +of them dismounted, some on horseback, were hunting them about. Three +or four black government waggons, with crosses in white circles, and an +old omnibus, among other vehicles, were being loaded in the village +street. There were scores of people, most of them sufficiently +sabbatical to have assumed their best clothes. The soldiers were having +the greatest difficulty in making them realise the gravity of their +position. We saw one shrivelled old fellow with a huge box and a score +or more of flower pots containing orchids, angrily expostulating with +the corporal who would leave them behind. I stopped and gripped his +arm. + +“Do you know what’s over there?” I said, pointing at the pine tops that +hid the Martians. + +“Eh?” said he, turning. “I was explainin’ these is vallyble.” + +“Death!” I shouted. “Death is coming! Death!” and leaving him to digest +that if he could, I hurried on after the artillery-man. At the corner I +looked back. The soldier had left him, and he was still standing by his +box, with the pots of orchids on the lid of it, and staring vaguely +over the trees. + +No one in Weybridge could tell us where the headquarters were +established; the whole place was in such confusion as I had never seen +in any town before. Carts, carriages everywhere, the most astonishing +miscellany of conveyances and horseflesh. The respectable inhabitants +of the place, men in golf and boating costumes, wives prettily dressed, +were packing, river-side loafers energetically helping, children +excited, and, for the most part, highly delighted at this astonishing +variation of their Sunday experiences. In the midst of it all the +worthy vicar was very pluckily holding an early celebration, and his +bell was jangling out above the excitement. + +I and the artilleryman, seated on the step of the drinking fountain, +made a very passable meal upon what we had brought with us. Patrols of +soldiers—here no longer hussars, but grenadiers in white—were warning +people to move now or to take refuge in their cellars as soon as the +firing began. We saw as we crossed the railway bridge that a growing +crowd of people had assembled in and about the railway station, and the +swarming platform was piled with boxes and packages. The ordinary +traffic had been stopped, I believe, in order to allow of the passage +of troops and guns to Chertsey, and I have heard since that a savage +struggle occurred for places in the special trains that were put on at +a later hour. + +We remained at Weybridge until midday, and at that hour we found +ourselves at the place near Shepperton Lock where the Wey and Thames +join. Part of the time we spent helping two old women to pack a little +cart. The Wey has a treble mouth, and at this point boats are to be +hired, and there was a ferry across the river. On the Shepperton side +was an inn with a lawn, and beyond that the tower of Shepperton +Church—it has been replaced by a spire—rose above the trees. + +Here we found an excited and noisy crowd of fugitives. As yet the +flight had not grown to a panic, but there were already far more people +than all the boats going to and fro could enable to cross. People came +panting along under heavy burdens; one husband and wife were even +carrying a small outhouse door between them, with some of their +household goods piled thereon. One man told us he meant to try to get +away from Shepperton station. + +There was a lot of shouting, and one man was even jesting. The idea +people seemed to have here was that the Martians were simply formidable +human beings, who might attack and sack the town, to be certainly +destroyed in the end. Every now and then people would glance nervously +across the Wey, at the meadows towards Chertsey, but everything over +there was still. + +Across the Thames, except just where the boats landed, everything was +quiet, in vivid contrast with the Surrey side. The people who landed +there from the boats went tramping off down the lane. The big ferryboat +had just made a journey. Three or four soldiers stood on the lawn of +the inn, staring and jesting at the fugitives, without offering to +help. The inn was closed, as it was now within prohibited hours. + +“What’s that?” cried a boatman, and “Shut up, you fool!” said a man +near me to a yelping dog. Then the sound came again, this time from the +direction of Chertsey, a muffled thud—the sound of a gun. + +The fighting was beginning. Almost immediately unseen batteries across +the river to our right, unseen because of the trees, took up the +chorus, firing heavily one after the other. A woman screamed. Everyone +stood arrested by the sudden stir of battle, near us and yet invisible +to us. Nothing was to be seen save flat meadows, cows feeding +unconcernedly for the most part, and silvery pollard willows motionless +in the warm sunlight. + +“The sojers’ll stop ’em,” said a woman beside me, doubtfully. A +haziness rose over the treetops. + +Then suddenly we saw a rush of smoke far away up the river, a puff of +smoke that jerked up into the air and hung; and forthwith the ground +heaved under foot and a heavy explosion shook the air, smashing two or +three windows in the houses near, and leaving us astonished. + +“Here they are!” shouted a man in a blue jersey. “Yonder! D’yer see +them? Yonder!” + +Quickly, one after the other, one, two, three, four of the armoured +Martians appeared, far away over the little trees, across the flat +meadows that stretched towards Chertsey, and striding hurriedly towards +the river. Little cowled figures they seemed at first, going with a +rolling motion and as fast as flying birds. + +Then, advancing obliquely towards us, came a fifth. Their armoured +bodies glittered in the sun as they swept swiftly forward upon the +guns, growing rapidly larger as they drew nearer. One on the extreme +left, the remotest that is, flourished a huge case high in the air, and +the ghostly, terrible Heat-Ray I had already seen on Friday night smote +towards Chertsey, and struck the town. + +At sight of these strange, swift, and terrible creatures the crowd near +the water’s edge seemed to me to be for a moment horror-struck. There +was no screaming or shouting, but a silence. Then a hoarse murmur and a +movement of feet—a splashing from the water. A man, too frightened to +drop the portmanteau he carried on his shoulder, swung round and sent +me staggering with a blow from the corner of his burden. A woman thrust +at me with her hand and rushed past me. I turned with the rush of the +people, but I was not too terrified for thought. The terrible Heat-Ray +was in my mind. To get under water! That was it! + +“Get under water!” I shouted, unheeded. + +I faced about again, and rushed towards the approaching Martian, rushed +right down the gravelly beach and headlong into the water. Others did +the same. A boatload of people putting back came leaping out as I +rushed past. The stones under my feet were muddy and slippery, and the +river was so low that I ran perhaps twenty feet scarcely waist-deep. +Then, as the Martian towered overhead scarcely a couple of hundred +yards away, I flung myself forward under the surface. The splashes of +the people in the boats leaping into the river sounded like +thunderclaps in my ears. People were landing hastily on both sides of +the river. But the Martian machine took no more notice for the moment +of the people running this way and that than a man would of the +confusion of ants in a nest against which his foot has kicked. When, +half suffocated, I raised my head above water, the Martian’s hood +pointed at the batteries that were still firing across the river, and +as it advanced it swung loose what must have been the generator of the +Heat-Ray. + +In another moment it was on the bank, and in a stride wading halfway +across. The knees of its foremost legs bent at the farther bank, and in +another moment it had raised itself to its full height again, close to +the village of Shepperton. Forthwith the six guns which, unknown to +anyone on the right bank, had been hidden behind the outskirts of that +village, fired simultaneously. The sudden near concussion, the last +close upon the first, made my heart jump. The monster was already +raising the case generating the Heat-Ray as the first shell burst six +yards above the hood. + +I gave a cry of astonishment. I saw and thought nothing of the other +four Martian monsters; my attention was riveted upon the nearer +incident. Simultaneously two other shells burst in the air near the +body as the hood twisted round in time to receive, but not in time to +dodge, the fourth shell. + +The shell burst clean in the face of the Thing. The hood bulged, +flashed, was whirled off in a dozen tattered fragments of red flesh and +glittering metal. + +“Hit!” shouted I, with something between a scream and a cheer. + +I heard answering shouts from the people in the water about me. I could +have leaped out of the water with that momentary exultation. + +The decapitated colossus reeled like a drunken giant; but it did not +fall over. It recovered its balance by a miracle, and, no longer +heeding its steps and with the camera that fired the Heat-Ray now +rigidly upheld, it reeled swiftly upon Shepperton. The living +intelligence, the Martian within the hood, was slain and splashed to +the four winds of heaven, and the Thing was now but a mere intricate +device of metal whirling to destruction. It drove along in a straight +line, incapable of guidance. It struck the tower of Shepperton Church, +smashing it down as the impact of a battering ram might have done, +swerved aside, blundered on and collapsed with tremendous force into +the river out of my sight. + +A violent explosion shook the air, and a spout of water, steam, mud, +and shattered metal shot far up into the sky. As the camera of the +Heat-Ray hit the water, the latter had immediately flashed into steam. +In another moment a huge wave, like a muddy tidal bore but almost +scaldingly hot, came sweeping round the bend upstream. I saw people +struggling shorewards, and heard their screaming and shouting faintly +above the seething and roar of the Martian’s collapse. + +For a moment I heeded nothing of the heat, forgot the patent need of +self-preservation. I splashed through the tumultuous water, pushing +aside a man in black to do so, until I could see round the bend. Half a +dozen deserted boats pitched aimlessly upon the confusion of the waves. +The fallen Martian came into sight downstream, lying across the river, +and for the most part submerged. + +Thick clouds of steam were pouring off the wreckage, and through the +tumultuously whirling wisps I could see, intermittently and vaguely, +the gigantic limbs churning the water and flinging a splash and spray +of mud and froth into the air. The tentacles swayed and struck like +living arms, and, save for the helpless purposelessness of these +movements, it was as if some wounded thing were struggling for its life +amid the waves. Enormous quantities of a ruddy-brown fluid were +spurting up in noisy jets out of the machine. + +My attention was diverted from this death flurry by a furious yelling, +like that of the thing called a siren in our manufacturing towns. A +man, knee-deep near the towing path, shouted inaudibly to me and +pointed. Looking back, I saw the other Martians advancing with gigantic +strides down the riverbank from the direction of Chertsey. The +Shepperton guns spoke this time unavailingly. + +At that I ducked at once under water, and, holding my breath until +movement was an agony, blundered painfully ahead under the surface as +long as I could. The water was in a tumult about me, and rapidly +growing hotter. + +When for a moment I raised my head to take breath and throw the hair +and water from my eyes, the steam was rising in a whirling white fog +that at first hid the Martians altogether. The noise was deafening. +Then I saw them dimly, colossal figures of grey, magnified by the mist. +They had passed by me, and two were stooping over the frothing, +tumultuous ruins of their comrade. + +The third and fourth stood beside him in the water, one perhaps two +hundred yards from me, the other towards Laleham. The generators of the +Heat-Rays waved high, and the hissing beams smote down this way and +that. + +The air was full of sound, a deafening and confusing conflict of +noises—the clangorous din of the Martians, the crash of falling houses, +the thud of trees, fences, sheds flashing into flame, and the crackling +and roaring of fire. Dense black smoke was leaping up to mingle with +the steam from the river, and as the Heat-Ray went to and fro over +Weybridge its impact was marked by flashes of incandescent white, that +gave place at once to a smoky dance of lurid flames. The nearer houses +still stood intact, awaiting their fate, shadowy, faint and pallid in +the steam, with the fire behind them going to and fro. + +For a moment perhaps I stood there, breast-high in the almost boiling +water, dumbfounded at my position, hopeless of escape. Through the reek +I could see the people who had been with me in the river scrambling out +of the water through the reeds, like little frogs hurrying through +grass from the advance of a man, or running to and fro in utter dismay +on the towing path. + +Then suddenly the white flashes of the Heat-Ray came leaping towards +me. The houses caved in as they dissolved at its touch, and darted out +flames; the trees changed to fire with a roar. The Ray flickered up and +down the towing path, licking off the people who ran this way and that, +and came down to the water’s edge not fifty yards from where I stood. +It swept across the river to Shepperton, and the water in its track +rose in a boiling weal crested with steam. I turned shoreward. + +In another moment the huge wave, well-nigh at the boiling-point had +rushed upon me. I screamed aloud, and scalded, half blinded, agonised, +I staggered through the leaping, hissing water towards the shore. Had +my foot stumbled, it would have been the end. I fell helplessly, in +full sight of the Martians, upon the broad, bare gravelly spit that +runs down to mark the angle of the Wey and Thames. I expected nothing +but death. + +I have a dim memory of the foot of a Martian coming down within a score +of yards of my head, driving straight into the loose gravel, whirling +it this way and that and lifting again; of a long suspense, and then of +the four carrying the debris of their comrade between them, now clear +and then presently faint through a veil of smoke, receding +interminably, as it seemed to me, across a vast space of river and +meadow. And then, very slowly, I realised that by a miracle I had +escaped. + + + + +XIII. +HOW I FELL IN WITH THE CURATE. + + +After getting this sudden lesson in the power of terrestrial weapons, +the Martians retreated to their original position upon Horsell Common; +and in their haste, and encumbered with the debris of their smashed +companion, they no doubt overlooked many such a stray and negligible +victim as myself. Had they left their comrade and pushed on forthwith, +there was nothing at that time between them and London but batteries of +twelve-pounder guns, and they would certainly have reached the capital +in advance of the tidings of their approach; as sudden, dreadful, and +destructive their advent would have been as the earthquake that +destroyed Lisbon a century ago. + +But they were in no hurry. Cylinder followed cylinder on its +interplanetary flight; every twenty-four hours brought them +reinforcement. And meanwhile the military and naval authorities, now +fully alive to the tremendous power of their antagonists, worked with +furious energy. Every minute a fresh gun came into position until, +before twilight, every copse, every row of suburban villas on the hilly +slopes about Kingston and Richmond, masked an expectant black muzzle. +And through the charred and desolated area—perhaps twenty square miles +altogether—that encircled the Martian encampment on Horsell Common, +through charred and ruined villages among the green trees, through the +blackened and smoking arcades that had been but a day ago pine +spinneys, crawled the devoted scouts with the heliographs that were +presently to warn the gunners of the Martian approach. But the Martians +now understood our command of artillery and the danger of human +proximity, and not a man ventured within a mile of either cylinder, +save at the price of his life. + +It would seem that these giants spent the earlier part of the afternoon +in going to and fro, transferring everything from the second and third +cylinders—the second in Addlestone Golf Links and the third at +Pyrford—to their original pit on Horsell Common. Over that, above the +blackened heather and ruined buildings that stretched far and wide, +stood one as sentinel, while the rest abandoned their vast +fighting-machines and descended into the pit. They were hard at work +there far into the night, and the towering pillar of dense green smoke +that rose therefrom could be seen from the hills about Merrow, and +even, it is said, from Banstead and Epsom Downs. + +And while the Martians behind me were thus preparing for their next +sally, and in front of me Humanity gathered for the battle, I made my +way with infinite pains and labour from the fire and smoke of burning +Weybridge towards London. + +I saw an abandoned boat, very small and remote, drifting down-stream; +and throwing off the most of my sodden clothes, I went after it, gained +it, and so escaped out of that destruction. There were no oars in the +boat, but I contrived to paddle, as well as my parboiled hands would +allow, down the river towards Halliford and Walton, going very +tediously and continually looking behind me, as you may well +understand. I followed the river, because I considered that the water +gave me my best chance of escape should these giants return. + +The hot water from the Martian’s overthrow drifted downstream with me, +so that for the best part of a mile I could see little of either bank. +Once, however, I made out a string of black figures hurrying across the +meadows from the direction of Weybridge. Halliford, it seemed, was +deserted, and several of the houses facing the river were on fire. It +was strange to see the place quite tranquil, quite desolate under the +hot blue sky, with the smoke and little threads of flame going straight +up into the heat of the afternoon. Never before had I seen houses +burning without the accompaniment of an obstructive crowd. A little +farther on the dry reeds up the bank were smoking and glowing, and a +line of fire inland was marching steadily across a late field of hay. + +For a long time I drifted, so painful and weary was I after the +violence I had been through, and so intense the heat upon the water. +Then my fears got the better of me again, and I resumed my paddling. +The sun scorched my bare back. At last, as the bridge at Walton was +coming into sight round the bend, my fever and faintness overcame my +fears, and I landed on the Middlesex bank and lay down, deadly sick, +amid the long grass. I suppose the time was then about four or five +o’clock. I got up presently, walked perhaps half a mile without meeting +a soul, and then lay down again in the shadow of a hedge. I seem to +remember talking, wanderingly, to myself during that last spurt. I was +also very thirsty, and bitterly regretful I had drunk no more water. It +is a curious thing that I felt angry with my wife; I cannot account for +it, but my impotent desire to reach Leatherhead worried me excessively. + +I do not clearly remember the arrival of the curate, so that probably I +dozed. I became aware of him as a seated figure in soot-smudged shirt +sleeves, and with his upturned, clean-shaven face staring at a faint +flickering that danced over the sky. The sky was what is called a +mackerel sky—rows and rows of faint down-plumes of cloud, just tinted +with the midsummer sunset. + +I sat up, and at the rustle of my motion he looked at me quickly. + +“Have you any water?” I asked abruptly. + +He shook his head. + +“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said. + +For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I dare say he +found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked +trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the +smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair +lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were +rather large, pale blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, +looking vacantly away from me. + +“What does it mean?” he said. “What do these things mean?” + +I stared at him and made no answer. + +He extended a thin white hand and spoke in almost a complaining tone. + +“Why are these things permitted? What sins have we done? The morning +service was over, I was walking through the roads to clear my brain for +the afternoon, and then—fire, earthquake, death! As if it were Sodom +and Gomorrah! All our work undone, all the work—— What are these +Martians?” + +“What are we?” I answered, clearing my throat. + +He gripped his knees and turned to look at me again. For half a minute, +perhaps, he stared silently. + +“I was walking through the roads to clear my brain,” he said. “And +suddenly—fire, earthquake, death!” + +He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his knees. + +Presently he began waving his hand. + +“All the work—all the Sunday schools—What have we done—what has +Weybridge done? Everything gone—everything destroyed. The church! We +rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence! Why?” + +Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented. + +“The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!” he shouted. + +His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of +Weybridge. + +By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous +tragedy in which he had been involved—it was evident he was a fugitive +from Weybridge—had driven him to the very verge of his reason. + +“Are we far from Sunbury?” I said, in a matter-of-fact tone. + +“What are we to do?” he asked. “Are these creatures everywhere? Has the +earth been given over to them?” + +“Are we far from Sunbury?” + +“Only this morning I officiated at early celebration——” + +“Things have changed,” I said, quietly. “You must keep your head. There +is still hope.” + +“Hope!” + +“Yes. Plentiful hope—for all this destruction!” + +I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, but +as I went on the interest dawning in his eyes gave place to their +former stare, and his regard wandered from me. + +“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The +end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! When men shall call upon +the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them—hide them +from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!” + +I began to understand the position. I ceased my laboured reasoning, +struggled to my feet, and, standing over him, laid my hand on his +shoulder. + +“Be a man!” said I. “You are scared out of your wits! What good is +religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and +floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God +had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.” + +For a time he sat in blank silence. + +“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, +they are pitiless.” + +“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the +mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was +killed yonder not three hours ago.” + +“Killed!” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be +killed?” + +“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in +for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.” + +“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly. + +I told him it was the heliograph signalling—that it was the sign of +human help and effort in the sky. + +“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in +the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it are the +Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and +Kingston and the trees give cover, earthworks are being thrown up and +guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way +again.” + +And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture. + +“Listen!” he said. + +From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of +distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A +cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west +the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and +Shepperton and the hot, still splendour of the sunset. + +“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.” + + + + +XIV. +IN LONDON. + + +My younger brother was in London when the Martians fell at Woking. He +was a medical student working for an imminent examination, and he heard +nothing of the arrival until Saturday morning. The morning papers on +Saturday contained, in addition to lengthy special articles on the +planet Mars, on life in the planets, and so forth, a brief and vaguely +worded telegram, all the more striking for its brevity. + +The Martians, alarmed by the approach of a crowd, had killed a number +of people with a quick-firing gun, so the story ran. The telegram +concluded with the words: “Formidable as they seem to be, the Martians +have not moved from the pit into which they have fallen, and, indeed, +seem incapable of doing so. Probably this is due to the relative +strength of the earth’s gravitational energy.” On that last text their +leader-writer expanded very comfortingly. + +Of course all the students in the crammer’s biology class, to which my +brother went that day, were intensely interested, but there were no +signs of any unusual excitement in the streets. The afternoon papers +puffed scraps of news under big headlines. They had nothing to tell +beyond the movements of troops about the common, and the burning of the +pine woods between Woking and Weybridge, until eight. Then the _St. +James’s Gazette_, in an extra-special edition, announced the bare fact +of the interruption of telegraphic communication. This was thought to +be due to the falling of burning pine trees across the line. Nothing +more of the fighting was known that night, the night of my drive to +Leatherhead and back. + +My brother felt no anxiety about us, as he knew from the description in +the papers that the cylinder was a good two miles from my house. He +made up his mind to run down that night to me, in order, as he says, to +see the Things before they were killed. He dispatched a telegram, which +never reached me, about four o’clock, and spent the evening at a music +hall. + +In London, also, on Saturday night there was a thunderstorm, and my +brother reached Waterloo in a cab. On the platform from which the +midnight train usually starts he learned, after some waiting, that an +accident prevented trains from reaching Woking that night. The nature +of the accident he could not ascertain; indeed, the railway authorities +did not clearly know at that time. There was very little excitement in +the station, as the officials, failing to realise that anything further +than a breakdown between Byfleet and Woking junction had occurred, were +running the theatre trains which usually passed through Woking round by +Virginia Water or Guildford. They were busy making the necessary +arrangements to alter the route of the Southampton and Portsmouth +Sunday League excursions. A nocturnal newspaper reporter, mistaking my +brother for the traffic manager, to whom he bears a slight resemblance, +waylaid and tried to interview him. Few people, excepting the railway +officials, connected the breakdown with the Martians. + +I have read, in another account of these events, that on Sunday morning +“all London was electrified by the news from Woking.” As a matter of +fact, there was nothing to justify that very extravagant phrase. Plenty +of Londoners did not hear of the Martians until the panic of Monday +morning. Those who did took some time to realise all that the hastily +worded telegrams in the Sunday papers conveyed. The majority of people +in London do not read Sunday papers. + +The habit of personal security, moreover, is so deeply fixed in the +Londoner’s mind, and startling intelligence so much a matter of course +in the papers, that they could read without any personal tremors: +“About seven o’clock last night the Martians came out of the cylinder, +and, moving about under an armour of metallic shields, have completely +wrecked Woking station with the adjacent houses, and massacred an +entire battalion of the Cardigan Regiment. No details are known. Maxims +have been absolutely useless against their armour; the field guns have +been disabled by them. Flying hussars have been galloping into +Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards Chertsey or +Windsor. Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and earthworks are +being thrown up to check the advance Londonward.” That was how the +_Sunday Sun_ put it, and a clever and remarkably prompt “handbook” +article in the _Referee_ compared the affair to a menagerie suddenly +let loose in a village. + +No one in London knew positively of the nature of the armoured +Martians, and there was still a fixed idea that these monsters must be +sluggish: “crawling,” “creeping painfully”—such expressions occurred in +almost all the earlier reports. None of the telegrams could have been +written by an eyewitness of their advance. The Sunday papers printed +separate editions as further news came to hand, some even in default of +it. But there was practically nothing more to tell people until late in +the afternoon, when the authorities gave the press agencies the news in +their possession. It was stated that the people of Walton and +Weybridge, and all the district were pouring along the roads +Londonward, and that was all. + +My brother went to church at the Foundling Hospital in the morning, +still in ignorance of what had happened on the previous night. There he +heard allusions made to the invasion, and a special prayer for peace. +Coming out, he bought a _Referee_. He became alarmed at the news in +this, and went again to Waterloo station to find out if communication +were restored. The omnibuses, carriages, cyclists, and innumerable +people walking in their best clothes seemed scarcely affected by the +strange intelligence that the newsvendors were disseminating. People +were interested, or, if alarmed, alarmed only on account of the local +residents. At the station he heard for the first time that the Windsor +and Chertsey lines were now interrupted. The porters told him that +several remarkable telegrams had been received in the morning from +Byfleet and Chertsey stations, but that these had abruptly ceased. My +brother could get very little precise detail out of them. + +“There’s fighting going on about Weybridge” was the extent of their +information. + +The train service was now very much disorganised. Quite a number of +people who had been expecting friends from places on the South-Western +network were standing about the station. One grey-headed old gentleman +came and abused the South-Western Company bitterly to my brother. “It +wants showing up,” he said. + +One or two trains came in from Richmond, Putney, and Kingston, +containing people who had gone out for a day’s boating and found the +locks closed and a feeling of panic in the air. A man in a blue and +white blazer addressed my brother, full of strange tidings. + +“There’s hosts of people driving into Kingston in traps and carts and +things, with boxes of valuables and all that,” he said. “They come from +Molesey and Weybridge and Walton, and they say there’s been guns heard +at Chertsey, heavy firing, and that mounted soldiers have told them to +get off at once because the Martians are coming. We heard guns firing +at Hampton Court station, but we thought it was thunder. What the +dickens does it all mean? The Martians can’t get out of their pit, can +they?” + +My brother could not tell him. + +Afterwards he found that the vague feeling of alarm had spread to the +clients of the underground railway, and that the Sunday excursionists +began to return from all over the South-Western “lung”—Barnes, +Wimbledon, Richmond Park, Kew, and so forth—at unnaturally early hours; +but not a soul had anything more than vague hearsay to tell of. +Everyone connected with the terminus seemed ill-tempered. + +About five o’clock the gathering crowd in the station was immensely +excited by the opening of the line of communication, which is almost +invariably closed, between the South-Eastern and the South-Western +stations, and the passage of carriage trucks bearing huge guns and +carriages crammed with soldiers. These were the guns that were brought +up from Woolwich and Chatham to cover Kingston. There was an exchange +of pleasantries: “You’ll get eaten!” “We’re the beast-tamers!” and so +forth. A little while after that a squad of police came into the +station and began to clear the public off the platforms, and my brother +went out into the street again. + +The church bells were ringing for evensong, and a squad of Salvation +Army lassies came singing down Waterloo Road. On the bridge a number of +loafers were watching a curious brown scum that came drifting down the +stream in patches. The sun was just setting, and the Clock Tower and +the Houses of Parliament rose against one of the most peaceful skies it +is possible to imagine, a sky of gold, barred with long transverse +stripes of reddish-purple cloud. There was talk of a floating body. One +of the men there, a reservist he said he was, told my brother he had +seen the heliograph flickering in the west. + +In Wellington Street my brother met a couple of sturdy roughs who had +just been rushed out of Fleet Street with still-wet newspapers and +staring placards. “Dreadful catastrophe!” they bawled one to the other +down Wellington Street. “Fighting at Weybridge! Full description! +Repulse of the Martians! London in Danger!” He had to give threepence +for a copy of that paper. + +Then it was, and then only, that he realised something of the full +power and terror of these monsters. He learned that they were not +merely a handful of small sluggish creatures, but that they were minds +swaying vast mechanical bodies; and that they could move swiftly and +smite with such power that even the mightiest guns could not stand +against them. + +They were described as “vast spiderlike machines, nearly a hundred feet +high, capable of the speed of an express train, and able to shoot out a +beam of intense heat.” Masked batteries, chiefly of field guns, had +been planted in the country about Horsell Common, and especially +between the Woking district and London. Five of the machines had been +seen moving towards the Thames, and one, by a happy chance, had been +destroyed. In the other cases the shells had missed, and the batteries +had been at once annihilated by the Heat-Rays. Heavy losses of soldiers +were mentioned, but the tone of the dispatch was optimistic. + +The Martians had been repulsed; they were not invulnerable. They had +retreated to their triangle of cylinders again, in the circle about +Woking. Signallers with heliographs were pushing forward upon them from +all sides. Guns were in rapid transit from Windsor, Portsmouth, +Aldershot, Woolwich—even from the north; among others, long wire-guns +of ninety-five tons from Woolwich. Altogether one hundred and sixteen +were in position or being hastily placed, chiefly covering London. +Never before in England had there been such a vast or rapid +concentration of military material. + +Any further cylinders that fell, it was hoped, could be destroyed at +once by high explosives, which were being rapidly manufactured and +distributed. No doubt, ran the report, the situation was of the +strangest and gravest description, but the public was exhorted to avoid +and discourage panic. No doubt the Martians were strange and terrible +in the extreme, but at the outside there could not be more than twenty +of them against our millions. + +The authorities had reason to suppose, from the size of the cylinders, +that at the outside there could not be more than five in each +cylinder—fifteen altogether. And one at least was disposed of—perhaps +more. The public would be fairly warned of the approach of danger, and +elaborate measures were being taken for the protection of the people in +the threatened southwestern suburbs. And so, with reiterated assurances +of the safety of London and the ability of the authorities to cope with +the difficulty, this quasi-proclamation closed. + +This was printed in enormous type on paper so fresh that it was still +wet, and there had been no time to add a word of comment. It was +curious, my brother said, to see how ruthlessly the usual contents of +the paper had been hacked and taken out to give this place. + +All down Wellington Street people could be seen fluttering out the pink +sheets and reading, and the Strand was suddenly noisy with the voices +of an army of hawkers following these pioneers. Men came scrambling off +buses to secure copies. Certainly this news excited people intensely, +whatever their previous apathy. The shutters of a map shop in the +Strand were being taken down, my brother said, and a man in his Sunday +raiment, lemon-yellow gloves even, was visible inside the window +hastily fastening maps of Surrey to the glass. + +Going on along the Strand to Trafalgar Square, the paper in his hand, +my brother saw some of the fugitives from West Surrey. There was a man +with his wife and two boys and some articles of furniture in a cart +such as greengrocers use. He was driving from the direction of +Westminster Bridge; and close behind him came a hay waggon with five or +six respectable-looking people in it, and some boxes and bundles. The +faces of these people were haggard, and their entire appearance +contrasted conspicuously with the Sabbath-best appearance of the people +on the omnibuses. People in fashionable clothing peeped at them out of +cabs. They stopped at the Square as if undecided which way to take, and +finally turned eastward along the Strand. Some way behind these came a +man in workday clothes, riding one of those old-fashioned tricycles +with a small front wheel. He was dirty and white in the face. + +My brother turned down towards Victoria, and met a number of such +people. He had a vague idea that he might see something of me. He +noticed an unusual number of police regulating the traffic. Some of the +refugees were exchanging news with the people on the omnibuses. One was +professing to have seen the Martians. “Boilers on stilts, I tell you, +striding along like men.” Most of them were excited and animated by +their strange experience. + +Beyond Victoria the public-houses were doing a lively trade with these +arrivals. At all the street corners groups of people were reading +papers, talking excitedly, or staring at these unusual Sunday visitors. +They seemed to increase as night drew on, until at last the roads, my +brother said, were like Epsom High Street on a Derby Day. My brother +addressed several of these fugitives and got unsatisfactory answers +from most. + +None of them could tell him any news of Woking except one man, who +assured him that Woking had been entirely destroyed on the previous +night. + +“I come from Byfleet,” he said; “a man on a bicycle came through the +place in the early morning, and ran from door to door warning us to +come away. Then came soldiers. We went out to look, and there were +clouds of smoke to the south—nothing but smoke, and not a soul coming +that way. Then we heard the guns at Chertsey, and folks coming from +Weybridge. So I’ve locked up my house and come on.” + +At that time there was a strong feeling in the streets that the +authorities were to blame for their incapacity to dispose of the +invaders without all this inconvenience. + +About eight o’clock a noise of heavy firing was distinctly audible all +over the south of London. My brother could not hear it for the traffic +in the main thoroughfares, but by striking through the quiet back +streets to the river he was able to distinguish it quite plainly. + +He walked from Westminster to his apartments near Regent’s Park, about +two. He was now very anxious on my account, and disturbed at the +evident magnitude of the trouble. His mind was inclined to run, even as +mine had run on Saturday, on military details. He thought of all those +silent, expectant guns, of the suddenly nomadic countryside; he tried +to imagine “boilers on stilts” a hundred feet high. + +There were one or two cartloads of refugees passing along Oxford +Street, and several in the Marylebone Road, but so slowly was the news +spreading that Regent Street and Portland Place were full of their +usual Sunday-night promenaders, albeit they talked in groups, and along +the edge of Regent’s Park there were as many silent couples “walking +out” together under the scattered gas lamps as ever there had been. The +night was warm and still, and a little oppressive; the sound of guns +continued intermittently, and after midnight there seemed to be sheet +lightning in the south. + +He read and re-read the paper, fearing the worst had happened to me. He +was restless, and after supper prowled out again aimlessly. He returned +and tried in vain to divert his attention to his examination notes. He +went to bed a little after midnight, and was awakened from lurid dreams +in the small hours of Monday by the sound of door knockers, feet +running in the street, distant drumming, and a clamour of bells. Red +reflections danced on the ceiling. For a moment he lay astonished, +wondering whether day had come or the world gone mad. Then he jumped +out of bed and ran to the window. + +His room was an attic and as he thrust his head out, up and down the +street there were a dozen echoes to the noise of his window sash, and +heads in every kind of night disarray appeared. Enquiries were being +shouted. “They are coming!” bawled a policeman, hammering at the door; +“the Martians are coming!” and hurried to the next door. + +The sound of drumming and trumpeting came from the Albany Street +Barracks, and every church within earshot was hard at work killing +sleep with a vehement disorderly tocsin. There was a noise of doors +opening, and window after window in the houses opposite flashed from +darkness into yellow illumination. + +Up the street came galloping a closed carriage, bursting abruptly into +noise at the corner, rising to a clattering climax under the window, +and dying away slowly in the distance. Close on the rear of this came a +couple of cabs, the forerunners of a long procession of flying +vehicles, going for the most part to Chalk Farm station, where the +North-Western special trains were loading up, instead of coming down +the gradient into Euston. + +For a long time my brother stared out of the window in blank +astonishment, watching the policemen hammering at door after door, and +delivering their incomprehensible message. Then the door behind him +opened, and the man who lodged across the landing came in, dressed only +in shirt, trousers, and slippers, his braces loose about his waist, his +hair disordered from his pillow. + +“What the devil is it?” he asked. “A fire? What a devil of a row!” + +They both craned their heads out of the window, straining to hear what +the policemen were shouting. People were coming out of the side +streets, and standing in groups at the corners talking. + +“What the devil is it all about?” said my brother’s fellow lodger. + +My brother answered him vaguely and began to dress, running with each +garment to the window in order to miss nothing of the growing +excitement. And presently men selling unnaturally early newspapers came +bawling into the street: + +“London in danger of suffocation! The Kingston and Richmond defences +forced! Fearful massacres in the Thames Valley!” + +And all about him—in the rooms below, in the houses on each side and +across the road, and behind in the Park Terraces and in the hundred +other streets of that part of Marylebone, and the Westbourne Park +district and St. Pancras, and westward and northward in Kilburn and St. +John’s Wood and Hampstead, and eastward in Shoreditch and Highbury and +Haggerston and Hoxton, and, indeed, through all the vastness of London +from Ealing to East Ham—people were rubbing their eyes, and opening +windows to stare out and ask aimless questions, dressing hastily as the +first breath of the coming storm of Fear blew through the streets. It +was the dawn of the great panic. London, which had gone to bed on +Sunday night oblivious and inert, was awakened, in the small hours of +Monday morning, to a vivid sense of danger. + +Unable from his window to learn what was happening, my brother went +down and out into the street, just as the sky between the parapets of +the houses grew pink with the early dawn. The flying people on foot and +in vehicles grew more numerous every moment. “Black Smoke!” he heard +people crying, and again “Black Smoke!” The contagion of such a +unanimous fear was inevitable. As my brother hesitated on the +door-step, he saw another newsvendor approaching, and got a paper +forthwith. The man was running away with the rest, and selling his +papers for a shilling each as he ran—a grotesque mingling of profit and +panic. + +And from this paper my brother read that catastrophic dispatch of the +Commander-in-Chief: + +“The Martians are able to discharge enormous clouds of a black and +poisonous vapour by means of rockets. They have smothered our +batteries, destroyed Richmond, Kingston, and Wimbledon, and are +advancing slowly towards London, destroying everything on the way. It +is impossible to stop them. There is no safety from the Black Smoke but +in instant flight.” + + +That was all, but it was enough. The whole population of the great +six-million city was stirring, slipping, running; presently it would be +pouring _en masse_ northward. + +“Black Smoke!” the voices cried. “Fire!” + +The bells of the neighbouring church made a jangling tumult, a cart +carelessly driven smashed, amid shrieks and curses, against the water +trough up the street. Sickly yellow lights went to and fro in the +houses, and some of the passing cabs flaunted unextinguished lamps. And +overhead the dawn was growing brighter, clear and steady and calm. + +He heard footsteps running to and fro in the rooms, and up and down +stairs behind him. His landlady came to the door, loosely wrapped in +dressing gown and shawl; her husband followed, ejaculating. + +As my brother began to realise the import of all these things, he +turned hastily to his own room, put all his available money—some ten +pounds altogether—into his pockets, and went out again into the +streets. + + + + +XV. +WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN SURREY. + + +It was while the curate had sat and talked so wildly to me under the +hedge in the flat meadows near Halliford, and while my brother was +watching the fugitives stream over Westminster Bridge, that the +Martians had resumed the offensive. So far as one can ascertain from +the conflicting accounts that have been put forth, the majority of them +remained busied with preparations in the Horsell pit until nine that +night, hurrying on some operation that disengaged huge volumes of green +smoke. + +But three certainly came out about eight o’clock and, advancing slowly +and cautiously, made their way through Byfleet and Pyrford towards +Ripley and Weybridge, and so came in sight of the expectant batteries +against the setting sun. These Martians did not advance in a body, but +in a line, each perhaps a mile and a half from his nearest fellow. They +communicated with one another by means of sirenlike howls, running up +and down the scale from one note to another. + +It was this howling and firing of the guns at Ripley and St. George’s +Hill that we had heard at Upper Halliford. The Ripley gunners, +unseasoned artillery volunteers who ought never to have been placed in +such a position, fired one wild, premature, ineffectual volley, and +bolted on horse and foot through the deserted village, while the +Martian, without using his Heat-Ray, walked serenely over their guns, +stepped gingerly among them, passed in front of them, and so came +unexpectedly upon the guns in Painshill Park, which he destroyed. + +The St. George’s Hill men, however, were better led or of a better +mettle. Hidden by a pine wood as they were, they seem to have been +quite unsuspected by the Martian nearest to them. They laid their guns +as deliberately as if they had been on parade, and fired at about a +thousand yards’ range. + +The shells flashed all round him, and he was seen to advance a few +paces, stagger, and go down. Everybody yelled together, and the guns +were reloaded in frantic haste. The overthrown Martian set up a +prolonged ululation, and immediately a second glittering giant, +answering him, appeared over the trees to the south. It would seem that +a leg of the tripod had been smashed by one of the shells. The whole of +the second volley flew wide of the Martian on the ground, and, +simultaneously, both his companions brought their Heat-Rays to bear on +the battery. The ammunition blew up, the pine trees all about the guns +flashed into fire, and only one or two of the men who were already +running over the crest of the hill escaped. + +After this it would seem that the three took counsel together and +halted, and the scouts who were watching them report that they remained +absolutely stationary for the next half hour. The Martian who had been +overthrown crawled tediously out of his hood, a small brown figure, +oddly suggestive from that distance of a speck of blight, and +apparently engaged in the repair of his support. About nine he had +finished, for his cowl was then seen above the trees again. + +It was a few minutes past nine that night when these three sentinels +were joined by four other Martians, each carrying a thick black tube. A +similar tube was handed to each of the three, and the seven proceeded +to distribute themselves at equal distances along a curved line between +St. George’s Hill, Weybridge, and the village of Send, southwest of +Ripley. + +A dozen rockets sprang out of the hills before them so soon as they +began to move, and warned the waiting batteries about Ditton and Esher. +At the same time four of their fighting machines, similarly armed with +tubes, crossed the river, and two of them, black against the western +sky, came into sight of myself and the curate as we hurried wearily and +painfully along the road that runs northward out of Halliford. They +moved, as it seemed to us, upon a cloud, for a milky mist covered the +fields and rose to a third of their height. + +At this sight the curate cried faintly in his throat, and began +running; but I knew it was no good running from a Martian, and I turned +aside and crawled through dewy nettles and brambles into the broad +ditch by the side of the road. He looked back, saw what I was doing, +and turned to join me. + +The two halted, the nearer to us standing and facing Sunbury, the +remoter being a grey indistinctness towards the evening star, away +towards Staines. + +The occasional howling of the Martians had ceased; they took up their +positions in the huge crescent about their cylinders in absolute +silence. It was a crescent with twelve miles between its horns. Never +since the devising of gunpowder was the beginning of a battle so still. +To us and to an observer about Ripley it would have had precisely the +same effect—the Martians seemed in solitary possession of the darkling +night, lit only as it was by the slender moon, the stars, the afterglow +of the daylight, and the ruddy glare from St. George’s Hill and the +woods of Painshill. + +But facing that crescent everywhere—at Staines, Hounslow, Ditton, +Esher, Ockham, behind hills and woods south of the river, and across +the flat grass meadows to the north of it, wherever a cluster of trees +or village houses gave sufficient cover—the guns were waiting. The +signal rockets burst and rained their sparks through the night and +vanished, and the spirit of all those watching batteries rose to a +tense expectation. The Martians had but to advance into the line of +fire, and instantly those motionless black forms of men, those guns +glittering so darkly in the early night, would explode into a +thunderous fury of battle. + +No doubt the thought that was uppermost in a thousand of those vigilant +minds, even as it was uppermost in mine, was the riddle—how much they +understood of us. Did they grasp that we in our millions were +organized, disciplined, working together? Or did they interpret our +spurts of fire, the sudden stinging of our shells, our steady +investment of their encampment, as we should the furious unanimity of +onslaught in a disturbed hive of bees? Did they dream they might +exterminate us? (At that time no one knew what food they needed.) A +hundred such questions struggled together in my mind as I watched that +vast sentinel shape. And in the back of my mind was the sense of all +the huge unknown and hidden forces Londonward. Had they prepared +pitfalls? Were the powder mills at Hounslow ready as a snare? Would the +Londoners have the heart and courage to make a greater Moscow of their +mighty province of houses? + +Then, after an interminable time, as it seemed to us, crouching and +peering through the hedge, came a sound like the distant concussion of +a gun. Another nearer, and then another. And then the Martian beside us +raised his tube on high and discharged it, gunwise, with a heavy report +that made the ground heave. The one towards Staines answered him. There +was no flash, no smoke, simply that loaded detonation. + +I was so excited by these heavy minute-guns following one another that +I so far forgot my personal safety and my scalded hands as to clamber +up into the hedge and stare towards Sunbury. As I did so a second +report followed, and a big projectile hurtled overhead towards +Hounslow. I expected at least to see smoke or fire, or some such +evidence of its work. But all I saw was the deep blue sky above, with +one solitary star, and the white mist spreading wide and low beneath. +And there had been no crash, no answering explosion. The silence was +restored; the minute lengthened to three. + +“What has happened?” said the curate, standing up beside me. + +“Heaven knows!” said I. + +A bat flickered by and vanished. A distant tumult of shouting began and +ceased. I looked again at the Martian, and saw he was now moving +eastward along the riverbank, with a swift, rolling motion. + +Every moment I expected the fire of some hidden battery to spring upon +him; but the evening calm was unbroken. The figure of the Martian grew +smaller as he receded, and presently the mist and the gathering night +had swallowed him up. By a common impulse we clambered higher. Towards +Sunbury was a dark appearance, as though a conical hill had suddenly +come into being there, hiding our view of the farther country; and +then, remoter across the river, over Walton, we saw another such +summit. These hill-like forms grew lower and broader even as we stared. + +Moved by a sudden thought, I looked northward, and there I perceived a +third of these cloudy black kopjes had risen. + +Everything had suddenly become very still. Far away to the southeast, +marking the quiet, we heard the Martians hooting to one another, and +then the air quivered again with the distant thud of their guns. But +the earthly artillery made no reply. + +Now at the time we could not understand these things, but later I was +to learn the meaning of these ominous kopjes that gathered in the +twilight. Each of the Martians, standing in the great crescent I have +described, had discharged, by means of the gunlike tube he carried, a +huge canister over whatever hill, copse, cluster of houses, or other +possible cover for guns, chanced to be in front of him. Some fired only +one of these, some two—as in the case of the one we had seen; the one +at Ripley is said to have discharged no fewer than five at that time. +These canisters smashed on striking the ground—they did not explode—and +incontinently disengaged an enormous volume of heavy, inky vapour, +coiling and pouring upward in a huge and ebony cumulus cloud, a gaseous +hill that sank and spread itself slowly over the surrounding country. +And the touch of that vapour, the inhaling of its pungent wisps, was +death to all that breathes. + +It was heavy, this vapour, heavier than the densest smoke, so that, +after the first tumultuous uprush and outflow of its impact, it sank +down through the air and poured over the ground in a manner rather +liquid than gaseous, abandoning the hills, and streaming into the +valleys and ditches and watercourses even as I have heard the +carbonic-acid gas that pours from volcanic clefts is wont to do. And +where it came upon water some chemical action occurred, and the surface +would be instantly covered with a powdery scum that sank slowly and +made way for more. The scum was absolutely insoluble, and it is a +strange thing, seeing the instant effect of the gas, that one could +drink without hurt the water from which it had been strained. The +vapour did not diffuse as a true gas would do. It hung together in +banks, flowing sluggishly down the slope of the land and driving +reluctantly before the wind, and very slowly it combined with the mist +and moisture of the air, and sank to the earth in the form of dust. +Save that an unknown element giving a group of four lines in the blue +of the spectrum is concerned, we are still entirely ignorant of the +nature of this substance. + +Once the tumultuous upheaval of its dispersion was over, the black +smoke clung so closely to the ground, even before its precipitation, +that fifty feet up in the air, on the roofs and upper stories of high +houses and on great trees, there was a chance of escaping its poison +altogether, as was proved even that night at Street Cobham and Ditton. + +The man who escaped at the former place tells a wonderful story of the +strangeness of its coiling flow, and how he looked down from the church +spire and saw the houses of the village rising like ghosts out of its +inky nothingness. For a day and a half he remained there, weary, +starving and sun-scorched, the earth under the blue sky and against the +prospect of the distant hills a velvet-black expanse, with red roofs, +green trees, and, later, black-veiled shrubs and gates, barns, +outhouses, and walls, rising here and there into the sunlight. + +But that was at Street Cobham, where the black vapour was allowed to +remain until it sank of its own accord into the ground. As a rule the +Martians, when it had served its purpose, cleared the air of it again +by wading into it and directing a jet of steam upon it. + +This they did with the vapour banks near us, as we saw in the starlight +from the window of a deserted house at Upper Halliford, whither we had +returned. From there we could see the searchlights on Richmond Hill and +Kingston Hill going to and fro, and about eleven the windows rattled, +and we heard the sound of the huge siege guns that had been put in +position there. These continued intermittently for the space of a +quarter of an hour, sending chance shots at the invisible Martians at +Hampton and Ditton, and then the pale beams of the electric light +vanished, and were replaced by a bright red glow. + +Then the fourth cylinder fell—a brilliant green meteor—as I learned +afterwards, in Bushey Park. Before the guns on the Richmond and +Kingston line of hills began, there was a fitful cannonade far away in +the southwest, due, I believe, to guns being fired haphazard before the +black vapour could overwhelm the gunners. + +So, setting about it as methodically as men might smoke out a wasps’ +nest, the Martians spread this strange stifling vapour over the +Londonward country. The horns of the crescent slowly moved apart, until +at last they formed a line from Hanwell to Coombe and Malden. All night +through their destructive tubes advanced. Never once, after the Martian +at St. George’s Hill was brought down, did they give the artillery the +ghost of a chance against them. Wherever there was a possibility of +guns being laid for them unseen, a fresh canister of the black vapour +was discharged, and where the guns were openly displayed the Heat-Ray +was brought to bear. + +By midnight the blazing trees along the slopes of Richmond Park and the +glare of Kingston Hill threw their light upon a network of black smoke, +blotting out the whole valley of the Thames and extending as far as the +eye could reach. And through this two Martians slowly waded, and turned +their hissing steam jets this way and that. + +They were sparing of the Heat-Ray that night, either because they had +but a limited supply of material for its production or because they did +not wish to destroy the country but only to crush and overawe the +opposition they had aroused. In the latter aim they certainly +succeeded. Sunday night was the end of the organised opposition to +their movements. After that no body of men would stand against them, so +hopeless was the enterprise. Even the crews of the torpedo-boats and +destroyers that had brought their quick-firers up the Thames refused to +stop, mutinied, and went down again. The only offensive operation men +ventured upon after that night was the preparation of mines and +pitfalls, and even in that their energies were frantic and spasmodic. + +One has to imagine, as well as one may, the fate of those batteries +towards Esher, waiting so tensely in the twilight. Survivors there were +none. One may picture the orderly expectation, the officers alert and +watchful, the gunners ready, the ammunition piled to hand, the limber +gunners with their horses and waggons, the groups of civilian +spectators standing as near as they were permitted, the evening +stillness, the ambulances and hospital tents with the burned and +wounded from Weybridge; then the dull resonance of the shots the +Martians fired, and the clumsy projectile whirling over the trees and +houses and smashing amid the neighbouring fields. + +One may picture, too, the sudden shifting of the attention, the swiftly +spreading coils and bellyings of that blackness advancing headlong, +towering heavenward, turning the twilight to a palpable darkness, a +strange and horrible antagonist of vapour striding upon its victims, +men and horses near it seen dimly, running, shrieking, falling +headlong, shouts of dismay, the guns suddenly abandoned, men choking +and writhing on the ground, and the swift broadening-out of the opaque +cone of smoke. And then night and extinction—nothing but a silent mass +of impenetrable vapour hiding its dead. + +Before dawn the black vapour was pouring through the streets of +Richmond, and the disintegrating organism of government was, with a +last expiring effort, rousing the population of London to the necessity +of flight. + + + + +XVI. +THE EXODUS FROM LONDON. + + +So you understand the roaring wave of fear that swept through the +greatest city in the world just as Monday was dawning—the stream of +flight rising swiftly to a torrent, lashing in a foaming tumult round +the railway stations, banked up into a horrible struggle about the +shipping in the Thames, and hurrying by every available channel +northward and eastward. By ten o’clock the police organisation, and by +midday even the railway organisations, were losing coherency, losing +shape and efficiency, guttering, softening, running at last in that +swift liquefaction of the social body. + +All the railway lines north of the Thames and the South-Eastern people +at Cannon Street had been warned by midnight on Sunday, and trains were +being filled. People were fighting savagely for standing-room in the +carriages even at two o’clock. By three, people were being trampled and +crushed even in Bishopsgate Street, a couple of hundred yards or more +from Liverpool Street station; revolvers were fired, people stabbed, +and the policemen who had been sent to direct the traffic, exhausted +and infuriated, were breaking the heads of the people they were called +out to protect. + +And as the day advanced and the engine drivers and stokers refused to +return to London, the pressure of the flight drove the people in an +ever-thickening multitude away from the stations and along the +northward-running roads. By midday a Martian had been seen at Barnes, +and a cloud of slowly sinking black vapour drove along the Thames and +across the flats of Lambeth, cutting off all escape over the bridges in +its sluggish advance. Another bank drove over Ealing, and surrounded a +little island of survivors on Castle Hill, alive, but unable to escape. + +After a fruitless struggle to get aboard a North-Western train at Chalk +Farm—the engines of the trains that had loaded in the goods yard there +_ploughed_ through shrieking people, and a dozen stalwart men fought to +keep the crowd from crushing the driver against his furnace—my brother +emerged upon the Chalk Farm road, dodged across through a hurrying +swarm of vehicles, and had the luck to be foremost in the sack of a +cycle shop. The front tire of the machine he got was punctured in +dragging it through the window, but he got up and off, notwithstanding, +with no further injury than a cut wrist. The steep foot of Haverstock +Hill was impassable owing to several overturned horses, and my brother +struck into Belsize Road. + +So he got out of the fury of the panic, and, skirting the Edgware Road, +reached Edgware about seven, fasting and wearied, but well ahead of the +crowd. Along the road people were standing in the roadway, curious, +wondering. He was passed by a number of cyclists, some horsemen, and +two motor cars. A mile from Edgware the rim of the wheel broke, and the +machine became unridable. He left it by the roadside and trudged +through the village. There were shops half opened in the main street of +the place, and people crowded on the pavement and in the doorways and +windows, staring astonished at this extraordinary procession of +fugitives that was beginning. He succeeded in getting some food at an +inn. + +For a time he remained in Edgware not knowing what next to do. The +flying people increased in number. Many of them, like my brother, +seemed inclined to loiter in the place. There was no fresh news of the +invaders from Mars. + +At that time the road was crowded, but as yet far from congested. Most +of the fugitives at that hour were mounted on cycles, but there were +soon motor cars, hansom cabs, and carriages hurrying along, and the +dust hung in heavy clouds along the road to St. Albans. + +It was perhaps a vague idea of making his way to Chelmsford, where some +friends of his lived, that at last induced my brother to strike into a +quiet lane running eastward. Presently he came upon a stile, and, +crossing it, followed a footpath northeastward. He passed near several +farmhouses and some little places whose names he did not learn. He saw +few fugitives until, in a grass lane towards High Barnet, he happened +upon two ladies who became his fellow travellers. He came upon them +just in time to save them. + +He heard their screams, and, hurrying round the corner, saw a couple of +men struggling to drag them out of the little pony-chaise in which they +had been driving, while a third with difficulty held the frightened +pony’s head. One of the ladies, a short woman dressed in white, was +simply screaming; the other, a dark, slender figure, slashed at the man +who gripped her arm with a whip she held in her disengaged hand. + +My brother immediately grasped the situation, shouted, and hurried +towards the struggle. One of the men desisted and turned towards him, +and my brother, realising from his antagonist’s face that a fight was +unavoidable, and being an expert boxer, went into him forthwith and +sent him down against the wheel of the chaise. + +It was no time for pugilistic chivalry and my brother laid him quiet +with a kick, and gripped the collar of the man who pulled at the +slender lady’s arm. He heard the clatter of hoofs, the whip stung +across his face, a third antagonist struck him between the eyes, and +the man he held wrenched himself free and made off down the lane in the +direction from which he had come. + +Partly stunned, he found himself facing the man who had held the +horse’s head, and became aware of the chaise receding from him down the +lane, swaying from side to side, and with the women in it looking back. +The man before him, a burly rough, tried to close, and he stopped him +with a blow in the face. Then, realising that he was deserted, he +dodged round and made off down the lane after the chaise, with the +sturdy man close behind him, and the fugitive, who had turned now, +following remotely. + +Suddenly he stumbled and fell; his immediate pursuer went headlong, and +he rose to his feet to find himself with a couple of antagonists again. +He would have had little chance against them had not the slender lady +very pluckily pulled up and returned to his help. It seems she had had +a revolver all this time, but it had been under the seat when she and +her companion were attacked. She fired at six yards’ distance, narrowly +missing my brother. The less courageous of the robbers made off, and +his companion followed him, cursing his cowardice. They both stopped in +sight down the lane, where the third man lay insensible. + +“Take this!” said the slender lady, and she gave my brother her +revolver. + +“Go back to the chaise,” said my brother, wiping the blood from his +split lip. + +She turned without a word—they were both panting—and they went back to +where the lady in white struggled to hold back the frightened pony. + +The robbers had evidently had enough of it. When my brother looked +again they were retreating. + +“I’ll sit here,” said my brother, “if I may”; and he got upon the empty +front seat. The lady looked over her shoulder. + +“Give me the reins,” she said, and laid the whip along the pony’s side. +In another moment a bend in the road hid the three men from my +brother’s eyes. + +So, quite unexpectedly, my brother found himself, panting, with a cut +mouth, a bruised jaw, and bloodstained knuckles, driving along an +unknown lane with these two women. + +He learned they were the wife and the younger sister of a surgeon +living at Stanmore, who had come in the small hours from a dangerous +case at Pinner, and heard at some railway station on his way of the +Martian advance. He had hurried home, roused the women—their servant +had left them two days before—packed some provisions, put his revolver +under the seat—luckily for my brother—and told them to drive on to +Edgware, with the idea of getting a train there. He stopped behind to +tell the neighbours. He would overtake them, he said, at about half +past four in the morning, and now it was nearly nine and they had seen +nothing of him. They could not stop in Edgware because of the growing +traffic through the place, and so they had come into this side lane. + +That was the story they told my brother in fragments when presently +they stopped again, nearer to New Barnet. He promised to stay with +them, at least until they could determine what to do, or until the +missing man arrived, and professed to be an expert shot with the +revolver—a weapon strange to him—in order to give them confidence. + +They made a sort of encampment by the wayside, and the pony became +happy in the hedge. He told them of his own escape out of London, and +all that he knew of these Martians and their ways. The sun crept higher +in the sky, and after a time their talk died out and gave place to an +uneasy state of anticipation. Several wayfarers came along the lane, +and of these my brother gathered such news as he could. Every broken +answer he had deepened his impression of the great disaster that had +come on humanity, deepened his persuasion of the immediate necessity +for prosecuting this flight. He urged the matter upon them. + +“We have money,” said the slender woman, and hesitated. + +Her eyes met my brother’s, and her hesitation ended. + +“So have I,” said my brother. + +She explained that they had as much as thirty pounds in gold, besides a +five-pound note, and suggested that with that they might get upon a +train at St. Albans or New Barnet. My brother thought that was +hopeless, seeing the fury of the Londoners to crowd upon the trains, +and broached his own idea of striking across Essex towards Harwich and +thence escaping from the country altogether. + +Mrs. Elphinstone—that was the name of the woman in white—would listen +to no reasoning, and kept calling upon “George”; but her sister-in-law +was astonishingly quiet and deliberate, and at last agreed to my +brother’s suggestion. So, designing to cross the Great North Road, they +went on towards Barnet, my brother leading the pony to save it as much +as possible. As the sun crept up the sky the day became excessively +hot, and under foot a thick, whitish sand grew burning and blinding, so +that they travelled only very slowly. The hedges were grey with dust. +And as they advanced towards Barnet a tumultuous murmuring grew +stronger. + +They began to meet more people. For the most part these were staring +before them, murmuring indistinct questions, jaded, haggard, unclean. +One man in evening dress passed them on foot, his eyes on the ground. +They heard his voice, and, looking back at him, saw one hand clutched +in his hair and the other beating invisible things. His paroxysm of +rage over, he went on his way without once looking back. + +As my brother’s party went on towards the crossroads to the south of +Barnet they saw a woman approaching the road across some fields on +their left, carrying a child and with two other children; and then +passed a man in dirty black, with a thick stick in one hand and a small +portmanteau in the other. Then round the corner of the lane, from +between the villas that guarded it at its confluence with the high +road, came a little cart drawn by a sweating black pony and driven by a +sallow youth in a bowler hat, grey with dust. There were three girls, +East End factory girls, and a couple of little children crowded in the +cart. + +“This’ll tike us rahnd Edgware?” asked the driver, wild-eyed, +white-faced; and when my brother told him it would if he turned to the +left, he whipped up at once without the formality of thanks. + +My brother noticed a pale grey smoke or haze rising among the houses in +front of them, and veiling the white façade of a terrace beyond the +road that appeared between the backs of the villas. Mrs. Elphinstone +suddenly cried out at a number of tongues of smoky red flame leaping up +above the houses in front of them against the hot, blue sky. The +tumultuous noise resolved itself now into the disorderly mingling of +many voices, the gride of many wheels, the creaking of waggons, and the +staccato of hoofs. The lane came round sharply not fifty yards from the +crossroads. + +“Good heavens!” cried Mrs. Elphinstone. “What is this you are driving +us into?” + +My brother stopped. + +For the main road was a boiling stream of people, a torrent of human +beings rushing northward, one pressing on another. A great bank of +dust, white and luminous in the blaze of the sun, made everything +within twenty feet of the ground grey and indistinct and was +perpetually renewed by the hurrying feet of a dense crowd of horses and +of men and women on foot, and by the wheels of vehicles of every +description. + +“Way!” my brother heard voices crying. “Make way!” + +It was like riding into the smoke of a fire to approach the meeting +point of the lane and road; the crowd roared like a fire, and the dust +was hot and pungent. And, indeed, a little way up the road a villa was +burning and sending rolling masses of black smoke across the road to +add to the confusion. + +Two men came past them. Then a dirty woman, carrying a heavy bundle and +weeping. A lost retriever dog, with hanging tongue, circled dubiously +round them, scared and wretched, and fled at my brother’s threat. + +So much as they could see of the road Londonward between the houses to +the right was a tumultuous stream of dirty, hurrying people, pent in +between the villas on either side; the black heads, the crowded forms, +grew into distinctness as they rushed towards the corner, hurried past, +and merged their individuality again in a receding multitude that was +swallowed up at last in a cloud of dust. + +“Go on! Go on!” cried the voices. “Way! Way!” + +One man’s hands pressed on the back of another. My brother stood at the +pony’s head. Irresistibly attracted, he advanced slowly, pace by pace, +down the lane. + +Edgware had been a scene of confusion, Chalk Farm a riotous tumult, but +this was a whole population in movement. It is hard to imagine that +host. It had no character of its own. The figures poured out past the +corner, and receded with their backs to the group in the lane. Along +the margin came those who were on foot threatened by the wheels, +stumbling in the ditches, blundering into one another. + +The carts and carriages crowded close upon one another, making little +way for those swifter and more impatient vehicles that darted forward +every now and then when an opportunity showed itself of doing so, +sending the people scattering against the fences and gates of the +villas. + +“Push on!” was the cry. “Push on! They are coming!” + +In one cart stood a blind man in the uniform of the Salvation Army, +gesticulating with his crooked fingers and bawling, “Eternity! +Eternity!” His voice was hoarse and very loud so that my brother could +hear him long after he was lost to sight in the dust. Some of the +people who crowded in the carts whipped stupidly at their horses and +quarrelled with other drivers; some sat motionless, staring at nothing +with miserable eyes; some gnawed their hands with thirst, or lay +prostrate in the bottoms of their conveyances. The horses’ bits were +covered with foam, their eyes bloodshot. + +There were cabs, carriages, shop-carts, waggons, beyond counting; a +mail cart, a road-cleaner’s cart marked “Vestry of St. Pancras,” a huge +timber waggon crowded with roughs. A brewer’s dray rumbled by with its +two near wheels splashed with fresh blood. + +“Clear the way!” cried the voices. “Clear the way!” + +“Eter-nity! Eter-nity!” came echoing down the road. + +There were sad, haggard women tramping by, well dressed, with children +that cried and stumbled, their dainty clothes smothered in dust, their +weary faces smeared with tears. With many of these came men, sometimes +helpful, sometimes lowering and savage. Fighting side by side with them +pushed some weary street outcast in faded black rags, wide-eyed, +loud-voiced, and foul-mouthed. There were sturdy workmen thrusting +their way along, wretched, unkempt men, clothed like clerks or shopmen, +struggling spasmodically; a wounded soldier my brother noticed, men +dressed in the clothes of railway porters, one wretched creature in a +nightshirt with a coat thrown over it. + +But varied as its composition was, certain things all that host had in +common. There were fear and pain on their faces, and fear behind them. +A tumult up the road, a quarrel for a place in a waggon, sent the whole +host of them quickening their pace; even a man so scared and broken +that his knees bent under him was galvanised for a moment into renewed +activity. The heat and dust had already been at work upon this +multitude. Their skins were dry, their lips black and cracked. They +were all thirsty, weary, and footsore. And amid the various cries one +heard disputes, reproaches, groans of weariness and fatigue; the voices +of most of them were hoarse and weak. Through it all ran a refrain: + +“Way! Way! The Martians are coming!” + +Few stopped and came aside from that flood. The lane opened slantingly +into the main road with a narrow opening, and had a delusive appearance +of coming from the direction of London. Yet a kind of eddy of people +drove into its mouth; weaklings elbowed out of the stream, who for the +most part rested but a moment before plunging into it again. A little +way down the lane, with two friends bending over him, lay a man with a +bare leg, wrapped about with bloody rags. He was a lucky man to have +friends. + +A little old man, with a grey military moustache and a filthy black +frock coat, limped out and sat down beside the trap, removed his +boot—his sock was blood-stained—shook out a pebble, and hobbled on +again; and then a little girl of eight or nine, all alone, threw +herself under the hedge close by my brother, weeping. + +“I can’t go on! I can’t go on!” + +My brother woke from his torpor of astonishment and lifted her up, +speaking gently to her, and carried her to Miss Elphinstone. So soon as +my brother touched her she became quite still, as if frightened. + +“Ellen!” shrieked a woman in the crowd, with tears in her +voice—“Ellen!” And the child suddenly darted away from my brother, +crying “Mother!” + +“They are coming,” said a man on horseback, riding past along the lane. + +“Out of the way, there!” bawled a coachman, towering high; and my +brother saw a closed carriage turning into the lane. + +The people crushed back on one another to avoid the horse. My brother +pushed the pony and chaise back into the hedge, and the man drove by +and stopped at the turn of the way. It was a carriage, with a pole for +a pair of horses, but only one was in the traces. My brother saw dimly +through the dust that two men lifted out something on a white stretcher +and put it gently on the grass beneath the privet hedge. + +One of the men came running to my brother. + +“Where is there any water?” he said. “He is dying fast, and very +thirsty. It is Lord Garrick.” + +“Lord Garrick!” said my brother; “the Chief Justice?” + +“The water?” he said. + +“There may be a tap,” said my brother, “in some of the houses. We have +no water. I dare not leave my people.” + +The man pushed against the crowd towards the gate of the corner house. + +“Go on!” said the people, thrusting at him. “They are coming! Go on!” + +Then my brother’s attention was distracted by a bearded, eagle-faced +man lugging a small handbag, which split even as my brother’s eyes +rested on it and disgorged a mass of sovereigns that seemed to break up +into separate coins as it struck the ground. They rolled hither and +thither among the struggling feet of men and horses. The man stopped +and looked stupidly at the heap, and the shaft of a cab struck his +shoulder and sent him reeling. He gave a shriek and dodged back, and a +cartwheel shaved him narrowly. + +“Way!” cried the men all about him. “Make way!” + +So soon as the cab had passed, he flung himself, with both hands open, +upon the heap of coins, and began thrusting handfuls in his pocket. A +horse rose close upon him, and in another moment, half rising, he had +been borne down under the horse’s hoofs. + +“Stop!” screamed my brother, and pushing a woman out of his way, tried +to clutch the bit of the horse. + +Before he could get to it, he heard a scream under the wheels, and saw +through the dust the rim passing over the poor wretch’s back. The +driver of the cart slashed his whip at my brother, who ran round behind +the cart. The multitudinous shouting confused his ears. The man was +writhing in the dust among his scattered money, unable to rise, for the +wheel had broken his back, and his lower limbs lay limp and dead. My +brother stood up and yelled at the next driver, and a man on a black +horse came to his assistance. + +“Get him out of the road,” said he; and, clutching the man’s collar +with his free hand, my brother lugged him sideways. But he still +clutched after his money, and regarded my brother fiercely, hammering +at his arm with a handful of gold. “Go on! Go on!” shouted angry voices +behind. “Way! Way!” + +There was a smash as the pole of a carriage crashed into the cart that +the man on horseback stopped. My brother looked up, and the man with +the gold twisted his head round and bit the wrist that held his collar. +There was a concussion, and the black horse came staggering sideways, +and the carthorse pushed beside it. A hoof missed my brother’s foot by +a hair’s breadth. He released his grip on the fallen man and jumped +back. He saw anger change to terror on the face of the poor wretch on +the ground, and in a moment he was hidden and my brother was borne +backward and carried past the entrance of the lane, and had to fight +hard in the torrent to recover it. + +He saw Miss Elphinstone covering her eyes, and a little child, with all +a child’s want of sympathetic imagination, staring with dilated eyes at +a dusty something that lay black and still, ground and crushed under +the rolling wheels. “Let us go back!” he shouted, and began turning the +pony round. “We cannot cross this—hell,” he said and they went back a +hundred yards the way they had come, until the fighting crowd was +hidden. As they passed the bend in the lane my brother saw the face of +the dying man in the ditch under the privet, deadly white and drawn, +and shining with perspiration. The two women sat silent, crouching in +their seat and shivering. + +Then beyond the bend my brother stopped again. Miss Elphinstone was +white and pale, and her sister-in-law sat weeping, too wretched even to +call upon “George.” My brother was horrified and perplexed. So soon as +they had retreated he realised how urgent and unavoidable it was to +attempt this crossing. He turned to Miss Elphinstone, suddenly +resolute. + +“We must go that way,” he said, and led the pony round again. + +For the second time that day this girl proved her quality. To force +their way into the torrent of people, my brother plunged into the +traffic and held back a cab horse, while she drove the pony across its +head. A waggon locked wheels for a moment and ripped a long splinter +from the chaise. In another moment they were caught and swept forward +by the stream. My brother, with the cabman’s whip marks red across his +face and hands, scrambled into the chaise and took the reins from her. + +“Point the revolver at the man behind,” he said, giving it to her, “if +he presses us too hard. No!—point it at his horse.” + +Then he began to look out for a chance of edging to the right across +the road. But once in the stream he seemed to lose volition, to become +a part of that dusty rout. They swept through Chipping Barnet with the +torrent; they were nearly a mile beyond the centre of the town before +they had fought across to the opposite side of the way. It was din and +confusion indescribable; but in and beyond the town the road forks +repeatedly, and this to some extent relieved the stress. + +They struck eastward through Hadley, and there on either side of the +road, and at another place farther on they came upon a great multitude +of people drinking at the stream, some fighting to come at the water. +And farther on, from a lull near East Barnet, they saw two trains +running slowly one after the other without signal or order—trains +swarming with people, with men even among the coals behind the +engines—going northward along the Great Northern Railway. My brother +supposes they must have filled outside London, for at that time the +furious terror of the people had rendered the central termini +impossible. + +Near this place they halted for the rest of the afternoon, for the +violence of the day had already utterly exhausted all three of them. +They began to suffer the beginnings of hunger; the night was cold, and +none of them dared to sleep. And in the evening many people came +hurrying along the road nearby their stopping place, fleeing from +unknown dangers before them, and going in the direction from which my +brother had come. + + + + +XVII. +THE “THUNDER CHILD”. + + +Had the Martians aimed only at destruction, they might on Monday have +annihilated the entire population of London, as it spread itself slowly +through the home counties. Not only along the road through Barnet, but +also through Edgware and Waltham Abbey, and along the roads eastward to +Southend and Shoeburyness, and south of the Thames to Deal and +Broadstairs, poured the same frantic rout. If one could have hung that +June morning in a balloon in the blazing blue above London every +northward and eastward road running out of the tangled maze of streets +would have seemed stippled black with the streaming fugitives, each dot +a human agony of terror and physical distress. I have set forth at +length in the last chapter my brother’s account of the road through +Chipping Barnet, in order that my readers may realise how that swarming +of black dots appeared to one of those concerned. Never before in the +history of the world had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered +together. The legendary hosts of Goths and Huns, the hugest armies Asia +has ever seen, would have been but a drop in that current. And this was +no disciplined march; it was a stampede—a stampede gigantic and +terrible—without order and without a goal, six million people unarmed +and unprovisioned, driving headlong. It was the beginning of the rout +of civilisation, of the massacre of mankind. + +Directly below him the balloonist would have seen the network of +streets far and wide, houses, churches, squares, crescents, +gardens—already derelict—spread out like a huge map, and in the +southward _blotted_. Over Ealing, Richmond, Wimbledon, it would have +seemed as if some monstrous pen had flung ink upon the chart. Steadily, +incessantly, each black splash grew and spread, shooting out +ramifications this way and that, now banking itself against rising +ground, now pouring swiftly over a crest into a new-found valley, +exactly as a gout of ink would spread itself upon blotting paper. + +And beyond, over the blue hills that rise southward of the river, the +glittering Martians went to and fro, calmly and methodically spreading +their poison cloud over this patch of country and then over that, +laying it again with their steam jets when it had served its purpose, +and taking possession of the conquered country. They do not seem to +have aimed at extermination so much as at complete demoralisation and +the destruction of any opposition. They exploded any stores of powder +they came upon, cut every telegraph, and wrecked the railways here and +there. They were hamstringing mankind. They seemed in no hurry to +extend the field of their operations, and did not come beyond the +central part of London all that day. It is possible that a very +considerable number of people in London stuck to their houses through +Monday morning. Certain it is that many died at home suffocated by the +Black Smoke. + +Until about midday the Pool of London was an astonishing scene. +Steamboats and shipping of all sorts lay there, tempted by the enormous +sums of money offered by fugitives, and it is said that many who swam +out to these vessels were thrust off with boathooks and drowned. About +one o’clock in the afternoon the thinning remnant of a cloud of the +black vapour appeared between the arches of Blackfriars Bridge. At that +the Pool became a scene of mad confusion, fighting, and collision, and +for some time a multitude of boats and barges jammed in the northern +arch of the Tower Bridge, and the sailors and lightermen had to fight +savagely against the people who swarmed upon them from the riverfront. +People were actually clambering down the piers of the bridge from +above. + +When, an hour later, a Martian appeared beyond the Clock Tower and +waded down the river, nothing but wreckage floated above Limehouse. + +Of the falling of the fifth cylinder I have presently to tell. The +sixth star fell at Wimbledon. My brother, keeping watch beside the +women in the chaise in a meadow, saw the green flash of it far beyond +the hills. On Tuesday the little party, still set upon getting across +the sea, made its way through the swarming country towards Colchester. +The news that the Martians were now in possession of the whole of +London was confirmed. They had been seen at Highgate, and even, it was +said, at Neasden. But they did not come into my brother’s view until +the morrow. + +That day the scattered multitudes began to realise the urgent need of +provisions. As they grew hungry the rights of property ceased to be +regarded. Farmers were out to defend their cattle-sheds, granaries, and +ripening root crops with arms in their hands. A number of people now, +like my brother, had their faces eastward, and there were some +desperate souls even going back towards London to get food. These were +chiefly people from the northern suburbs, whose knowledge of the Black +Smoke came by hearsay. He heard that about half the members of the +government had gathered at Birmingham, and that enormous quantities of +high explosives were being prepared to be used in automatic mines +across the Midland counties. + +He was also told that the Midland Railway Company had replaced the +desertions of the first day’s panic, had resumed traffic, and was +running northward trains from St. Albans to relieve the congestion of +the home counties. There was also a placard in Chipping Ongar +announcing that large stores of flour were available in the northern +towns and that within twenty-four hours bread would be distributed +among the starving people in the neighbourhood. But this intelligence +did not deter him from the plan of escape he had formed, and the three +pressed eastward all day, and heard no more of the bread distribution +than this promise. Nor, as a matter of fact, did anyone else hear more +of it. That night fell the seventh star, falling upon Primrose Hill. It +fell while Miss Elphinstone was watching, for she took that duty +alternately with my brother. She saw it. + +On Wednesday the three fugitives—they had passed the night in a field +of unripe wheat—reached Chelmsford, and there a body of the +inhabitants, calling itself the Committee of Public Supply, seized the +pony as provisions, and would give nothing in exchange for it but the +promise of a share in it the next day. Here there were rumours of +Martians at Epping, and news of the destruction of Waltham Abbey Powder +Mills in a vain attempt to blow up one of the invaders. + +People were watching for Martians here from the church towers. My +brother, very luckily for him as it chanced, preferred to push on at +once to the coast rather than wait for food, although all three of them +were very hungry. By midday they passed through Tillingham, which, +strangely enough, seemed to be quite silent and deserted, save for a +few furtive plunderers hunting for food. Near Tillingham they suddenly +came in sight of the sea, and the most amazing crowd of shipping of all +sorts that it is possible to imagine. + +For after the sailors could no longer come up the Thames, they came on +to the Essex coast, to Harwich and Walton and Clacton, and afterwards +to Foulness and Shoebury, to bring off the people. They lay in a huge +sickle-shaped curve that vanished into mist at last towards the Naze. +Close inshore was a multitude of fishing smacks—English, Scotch, +French, Dutch, and Swedish; steam launches from the Thames, yachts, +electric boats; and beyond were ships of larger burden, a multitude of +filthy colliers, trim merchantmen, cattle ships, passenger boats, +petroleum tanks, ocean tramps, an old white transport even, neat white +and grey liners from Southampton and Hamburg; and along the blue coast +across the Blackwater my brother could make out dimly a dense swarm of +boats chaffering with the people on the beach, a swarm which also +extended up the Blackwater almost to Maldon. + +About a couple of miles out lay an ironclad, very low in the water, +almost, to my brother’s perception, like a water-logged ship. This was +the ram _Thunder Child_. It was the only warship in sight, but far away +to the right over the smooth surface of the sea—for that day there was +a dead calm—lay a serpent of black smoke to mark the next ironclads of +the Channel Fleet, which hovered in an extended line, steam up and +ready for action, across the Thames estuary during the course of the +Martian conquest, vigilant and yet powerless to prevent it. + +At the sight of the sea, Mrs. Elphinstone, in spite of the assurances +of her sister-in-law, gave way to panic. She had never been out of +England before, she would rather die than trust herself friendless in a +foreign country, and so forth. She seemed, poor woman, to imagine that +the French and the Martians might prove very similar. She had been +growing increasingly hysterical, fearful, and depressed during the two +days’ journeyings. Her great idea was to return to Stanmore. Things had +been always well and safe at Stanmore. They would find George at +Stanmore.... + +It was with the greatest difficulty they could get her down to the +beach, where presently my brother succeeded in attracting the attention +of some men on a paddle steamer from the Thames. They sent a boat and +drove a bargain for thirty-six pounds for the three. The steamer was +going, these men said, to Ostend. + +It was about two o’clock when my brother, having paid their fares at +the gangway, found himself safely aboard the steamboat with his +charges. There was food aboard, albeit at exorbitant prices, and the +three of them contrived to eat a meal on one of the seats forward. + +There were already a couple of score of passengers aboard, some of whom +had expended their last money in securing a passage, but the captain +lay off the Blackwater until five in the afternoon, picking up +passengers until the seated decks were even dangerously crowded. He +would probably have remained longer had it not been for the sound of +guns that began about that hour in the south. As if in answer, the +ironclad seaward fired a small gun and hoisted a string of flags. A jet +of smoke sprang out of her funnels. + +Some of the passengers were of opinion that this firing came from +Shoeburyness, until it was noticed that it was growing louder. At the +same time, far away in the southeast the masts and upperworks of three +ironclads rose one after the other out of the sea, beneath clouds of +black smoke. But my brother’s attention speedily reverted to the +distant firing in the south. He fancied he saw a column of smoke rising +out of the distant grey haze. + +The little steamer was already flapping her way eastward of the big +crescent of shipping, and the low Essex coast was growing blue and +hazy, when a Martian appeared, small and faint in the remote distance, +advancing along the muddy coast from the direction of Foulness. At that +the captain on the bridge swore at the top of his voice with fear and +anger at his own delay, and the paddles seemed infected with his +terror. Every soul aboard stood at the bulwarks or on the seats of the +steamer and stared at that distant shape, higher than the trees or +church towers inland, and advancing with a leisurely parody of a human +stride. + +It was the first Martian my brother had seen, and he stood, more amazed +than terrified, watching this Titan advancing deliberately towards the +shipping, wading farther and farther into the water as the coast fell +away. Then, far away beyond the Crouch, came another, striding over +some stunted trees, and then yet another, still farther off, wading +deeply through a shiny mudflat that seemed to hang halfway up between +sea and sky. They were all stalking seaward, as if to intercept the +escape of the multitudinous vessels that were crowded between Foulness +and the Naze. In spite of the throbbing exertions of the engines of the +little paddle-boat, and the pouring foam that her wheels flung behind +her, she receded with terrifying slowness from this ominous advance. + +Glancing northwestward, my brother saw the large crescent of shipping +already writhing with the approaching terror; one ship passing behind +another, another coming round from broadside to end on, steamships +whistling and giving off volumes of steam, sails being let out, +launches rushing hither and thither. He was so fascinated by this and +by the creeping danger away to the left that he had no eyes for +anything seaward. And then a swift movement of the steamboat (she had +suddenly come round to avoid being run down) flung him headlong from +the seat upon which he was standing. There was a shouting all about +him, a trampling of feet, and a cheer that seemed to be answered +faintly. The steamboat lurched and rolled him over upon his hands. + +He sprang to his feet and saw to starboard, and not a hundred yards +from their heeling, pitching boat, a vast iron bulk like the blade of a +plough tearing through the water, tossing it on either side in huge +waves of foam that leaped towards the steamer, flinging her paddles +helplessly in the air, and then sucking her deck down almost to the +waterline. + +A douche of spray blinded my brother for a moment. When his eyes were +clear again he saw the monster had passed and was rushing landward. Big +iron upperworks rose out of this headlong structure, and from that twin +funnels projected and spat a smoking blast shot with fire. It was the +torpedo ram, _Thunder Child_, steaming headlong, coming to the rescue +of the threatened shipping. + +Keeping his footing on the heaving deck by clutching the bulwarks, my +brother looked past this charging leviathan at the Martians again, and +he saw the three of them now close together, and standing so far out to +sea that their tripod supports were almost entirely submerged. Thus +sunken, and seen in remote perspective, they appeared far less +formidable than the huge iron bulk in whose wake the steamer was +pitching so helplessly. It would seem they were regarding this new +antagonist with astonishment. To their intelligence, it may be, the +giant was even such another as themselves. The _Thunder Child_ fired no +gun, but simply drove full speed towards them. It was probably her not +firing that enabled her to get so near the enemy as she did. They did +not know what to make of her. One shell, and they would have sent her +to the bottom forthwith with the Heat-Ray. + +She was steaming at such a pace that in a minute she seemed halfway +between the steamboat and the Martians—a diminishing black bulk against +the receding horizontal expanse of the Essex coast. + +Suddenly the foremost Martian lowered his tube and discharged a +canister of the black gas at the ironclad. It hit her larboard side and +glanced off in an inky jet that rolled away to seaward, an unfolding +torrent of Black Smoke, from which the ironclad drove clear. To the +watchers from the steamer, low in the water and with the sun in their +eyes, it seemed as though she were already among the Martians. + +They saw the gaunt figures separating and rising out of the water as +they retreated shoreward, and one of them raised the camera-like +generator of the Heat-Ray. He held it pointing obliquely downward, and +a bank of steam sprang from the water at its touch. It must have driven +through the iron of the ship’s side like a white-hot iron rod through +paper. + +A flicker of flame went up through the rising steam, and then the +Martian reeled and staggered. In another moment he was cut down, and a +great body of water and steam shot high in the air. The guns of the +_Thunder Child_ sounded through the reek, going off one after the +other, and one shot splashed the water high close by the steamer, +ricocheted towards the other flying ships to the north, and smashed a +smack to matchwood. + +But no one heeded that very much. At the sight of the Martian’s +collapse the captain on the bridge yelled inarticulately, and all the +crowding passengers on the steamer’s stern shouted together. And then +they yelled again. For, surging out beyond the white tumult, drove +something long and black, the flames streaming from its middle parts, +its ventilators and funnels spouting fire. + +She was alive still; the steering gear, it seems, was intact and her +engines working. She headed straight for a second Martian, and was +within a hundred yards of him when the Heat-Ray came to bear. Then with +a violent thud, a blinding flash, her decks, her funnels, leaped +upward. The Martian staggered with the violence of her explosion, and +in another moment the flaming wreckage, still driving forward with the +impetus of its pace, had struck him and crumpled him up like a thing of +cardboard. My brother shouted involuntarily. A boiling tumult of steam +hid everything again. + +“Two!” yelled the captain. + +Everyone was shouting. The whole steamer from end to end rang with +frantic cheering that was taken up first by one and then by all in the +crowding multitude of ships and boats that was driving out to sea. + +The steam hung upon the water for many minutes, hiding the third +Martian and the coast altogether. And all this time the boat was +paddling steadily out to sea and away from the fight; and when at last +the confusion cleared, the drifting bank of black vapour intervened, +and nothing of the _Thunder Child_ could be made out, nor could the +third Martian be seen. But the ironclads to seaward were now quite +close and standing in towards shore past the steamboat. + +The little vessel continued to beat its way seaward, and the ironclads +receded slowly towards the coast, which was hidden still by a marbled +bank of vapour, part steam, part black gas, eddying and combining in +the strangest way. The fleet of refugees was scattering to the +northeast; several smacks were sailing between the ironclads and the +steamboat. After a time, and before they reached the sinking cloud +bank, the warships turned northward, and then abruptly went about and +passed into the thickening haze of evening southward. The coast grew +faint, and at last indistinguishable amid the low banks of clouds that +were gathering about the sinking sun. + +Then suddenly out of the golden haze of the sunset came the vibration +of guns, and a form of black shadows moving. Everyone struggled to the +rail of the steamer and peered into the blinding furnace of the west, +but nothing was to be distinguished clearly. A mass of smoke rose +slanting and barred the face of the sun. The steamboat throbbed on its +way through an interminable suspense. + +The sun sank into grey clouds, the sky flushed and darkened, the +evening star trembled into sight. It was deep twilight when the captain +cried out and pointed. My brother strained his eyes. Something rushed +up into the sky out of the greyness—rushed slantingly upward and very +swiftly into the luminous clearness above the clouds in the western +sky; something flat and broad, and very large, that swept round in a +vast curve, grew smaller, sank slowly, and vanished again into the grey +mystery of the night. And as it flew it rained down darkness upon the +land. + + + + +BOOK TWO +THE EARTH UNDER THE MARTIANS. + + + + +I. +UNDER FOOT. + + +In the first book I have wandered so much from my own adventures to +tell of the experiences of my brother that all through the last two +chapters I and the curate have been lurking in the empty house at +Halliford whither we fled to escape the Black Smoke. There I will +resume. We stopped there all Sunday night and all the next day—the day +of the panic—in a little island of daylight, cut off by the Black Smoke +from the rest of the world. We could do nothing but wait in aching +inactivity during those two weary days. + +My mind was occupied by anxiety for my wife. I figured her at +Leatherhead, terrified, in danger, mourning me already as a dead man. I +paced the rooms and cried aloud when I thought of how I was cut off +from her, of all that might happen to her in my absence. My cousin I +knew was brave enough for any emergency, but he was not the sort of man +to realise danger quickly, to rise promptly. What was needed now was +not bravery, but circumspection. My only consolation was to believe +that the Martians were moving Londonward and away from her. Such vague +anxieties keep the mind sensitive and painful. I grew very weary and +irritable with the curate’s perpetual ejaculations; I tired of the +sight of his selfish despair. After some ineffectual remonstrance I +kept away from him, staying in a room—evidently a children’s +schoolroom—containing globes, forms, and copybooks. When he followed me +thither, I went to a box room at the top of the house and, in order to +be alone with my aching miseries, locked myself in. + +We were hopelessly hemmed in by the Black Smoke all that day and the +morning of the next. There were signs of people in the next house on +Sunday evening—a face at a window and moving lights, and later the +slamming of a door. But I do not know who these people were, nor what +became of them. We saw nothing of them next day. The Black Smoke +drifted slowly riverward all through Monday morning, creeping nearer +and nearer to us, driving at last along the roadway outside the house +that hid us. + +A Martian came across the fields about midday, laying the stuff with a +jet of superheated steam that hissed against the walls, smashed all the +windows it touched, and scalded the curate’s hand as he fled out of the +front room. When at last we crept across the sodden rooms and looked +out again, the country northward was as though a black snowstorm had +passed over it. Looking towards the river, we were astonished to see an +unaccountable redness mingling with the black of the scorched meadows. + +For a time we did not see how this change affected our position, save +that we were relieved of our fear of the Black Smoke. But later I +perceived that we were no longer hemmed in, that now we might get away. +So soon as I realised that the way of escape was open, my dream of +action returned. But the curate was lethargic, unreasonable. + +“We are safe here,” he repeated; “safe here.” + +I resolved to leave him—would that I had! Wiser now for the +artilleryman’s teaching, I sought out food and drink. I had found oil +and rags for my burns, and I also took a hat and a flannel shirt that I +found in one of the bedrooms. When it was clear to him that I meant to +go alone—had reconciled myself to going alone—he suddenly roused +himself to come. And all being quiet throughout the afternoon, we +started about five o’clock, as I should judge, along the blackened road +to Sunbury. + +In Sunbury, and at intervals along the road, were dead bodies lying in +contorted attitudes, horses as well as men, overturned carts and +luggage, all covered thickly with black dust. That pall of cindery +powder made me think of what I had read of the destruction of Pompeii. +We got to Hampton Court without misadventure, our minds full of strange +and unfamiliar appearances, and at Hampton Court our eyes were relieved +to find a patch of green that had escaped the suffocating drift. We +went through Bushey Park, with its deer going to and fro under the +chestnuts, and some men and women hurrying in the distance towards +Hampton, and so we came to Twickenham. These were the first people we +saw. + +Away across the road the woods beyond Ham and Petersham were still +afire. Twickenham was uninjured by either Heat-Ray or Black Smoke, and +there were more people about here, though none could give us news. For +the most part they were like ourselves, taking advantage of a lull to +shift their quarters. I have an impression that many of the houses here +were still occupied by scared inhabitants, too frightened even for +flight. Here too the evidence of a hasty rout was abundant along the +road. I remember most vividly three smashed bicycles in a heap, pounded +into the road by the wheels of subsequent carts. We crossed Richmond +Bridge about half past eight. We hurried across the exposed bridge, of +course, but I noticed floating down the stream a number of red masses, +some many feet across. I did not know what these were—there was no time +for scrutiny—and I put a more horrible interpretation on them than they +deserved. Here again on the Surrey side were black dust that had once +been smoke, and dead bodies—a heap near the approach to the station; +but we had no glimpse of the Martians until we were some way towards +Barnes. + +We saw in the blackened distance a group of three people running down a +side street towards the river, but otherwise it seemed deserted. Up the +hill Richmond town was burning briskly; outside the town of Richmond +there was no trace of the Black Smoke. + +Then suddenly, as we approached Kew, came a number of people running, +and the upperworks of a Martian fighting-machine loomed in sight over +the housetops, not a hundred yards away from us. We stood aghast at our +danger, and had the Martian looked down we must immediately have +perished. We were so terrified that we dared not go on, but turned +aside and hid in a shed in a garden. There the curate crouched, weeping +silently, and refusing to stir again. + +But my fixed idea of reaching Leatherhead would not let me rest, and in +the twilight I ventured out again. I went through a shrubbery, and +along a passage beside a big house standing in its own grounds, and so +emerged upon the road towards Kew. The curate I left in the shed, but +he came hurrying after me. + +That second start was the most foolhardy thing I ever did. For it was +manifest the Martians were about us. No sooner had the curate overtaken +me than we saw either the fighting-machine we had seen before or +another, far away across the meadows in the direction of Kew Lodge. +Four or five little black figures hurried before it across the +green-grey of the field, and in a moment it was evident this Martian +pursued them. In three strides he was among them, and they ran +radiating from his feet in all directions. He used no Heat-Ray to +destroy them, but picked them up one by one. Apparently he tossed them +into the great metallic carrier which projected behind him, much as a +workman’s basket hangs over his shoulder. + +It was the first time I realised that the Martians might have any other +purpose than destruction with defeated humanity. We stood for a moment +petrified, then turned and fled through a gate behind us into a walled +garden, fell into, rather than found, a fortunate ditch, and lay there, +scarce daring to whisper to each other until the stars were out. + +I suppose it was nearly eleven o’clock before we gathered courage to +start again, no longer venturing into the road, but sneaking along +hedgerows and through plantations, and watching keenly through the +darkness, he on the right and I on the left, for the Martians, who +seemed to be all about us. In one place we blundered upon a scorched +and blackened area, now cooling and ashen, and a number of scattered +dead bodies of men, burned horribly about the heads and trunks but with +their legs and boots mostly intact; and of dead horses, fifty feet, +perhaps, behind a line of four ripped guns and smashed gun carriages. + +Sheen, it seemed, had escaped destruction, but the place was silent and +deserted. Here we happened on no dead, though the night was too dark +for us to see into the side roads of the place. In Sheen my companion +suddenly complained of faintness and thirst, and we decided to try one +of the houses. + +The first house we entered, after a little difficulty with the window, +was a small semi-detached villa, and I found nothing eatable left in +the place but some mouldy cheese. There was, however, water to drink; +and I took a hatchet, which promised to be useful in our next +house-breaking. + +We then crossed to a place where the road turns towards Mortlake. Here +there stood a white house within a walled garden, and in the pantry of +this domicile we found a store of food—two loaves of bread in a pan, an +uncooked steak, and the half of a ham. I give this catalogue so +precisely because, as it happened, we were destined to subsist upon +this store for the next fortnight. Bottled beer stood under a shelf, +and there were two bags of haricot beans and some limp lettuces. This +pantry opened into a kind of wash-up kitchen, and in this was firewood; +there was also a cupboard, in which we found nearly a dozen of +burgundy, tinned soups and salmon, and two tins of biscuits. + +We sat in the adjacent kitchen in the dark—for we dared not strike a +light—and ate bread and ham, and drank beer out of the same bottle. The +curate, who was still timorous and restless, was now, oddly enough, for +pushing on, and I was urging him to keep up his strength by eating when +the thing happened that was to imprison us. + +“It can’t be midnight yet,” I said, and then came a blinding glare of +vivid green light. Everything in the kitchen leaped out, clearly +visible in green and black, and vanished again. And then followed such +a concussion as I have never heard before or since. So close on the +heels of this as to seem instantaneous came a thud behind me, a clash +of glass, a crash and rattle of falling masonry all about us, and the +plaster of the ceiling came down upon us, smashing into a multitude of +fragments upon our heads. I was knocked headlong across the floor +against the oven handle and stunned. I was insensible for a long time, +the curate told me, and when I came to we were in darkness again, and +he, with a face wet, as I found afterwards, with blood from a cut +forehead, was dabbing water over me. + +For some time I could not recollect what had happened. Then things came +to me slowly. A bruise on my temple asserted itself. + +“Are you better?” asked the curate in a whisper. + +At last I answered him. I sat up. + +“Don’t move,” he said. “The floor is covered with smashed crockery from +the dresser. You can’t possibly move without making a noise, and I +fancy _they_ are outside.” + +We both sat quite silent, so that we could scarcely hear each other +breathing. Everything seemed deadly still, but once something near us, +some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. +Outside and very near was an intermittent, metallic rattle. + +“That!” said the curate, when presently it happened again. + +“Yes,” I said. “But what is it?” + +“A Martian!” said the curate. + +I listened again. + +“It was not like the Heat-Ray,” I said, and for a time I was inclined +to think one of the great fighting-machines had stumbled against the +house, as I had seen one stumble against the tower of Shepperton +Church. + +Our situation was so strange and incomprehensible that for three or +four hours, until the dawn came, we scarcely moved. And then the light +filtered in, not through the window, which remained black, but through +a triangular aperture between a beam and a heap of broken bricks in the +wall behind us. The interior of the kitchen we now saw greyly for the +first time. + +The window had been burst in by a mass of garden mould, which flowed +over the table upon which we had been sitting and lay about our feet. +Outside, the soil was banked high against the house. At the top of the +window frame we could see an uprooted drainpipe. The floor was littered +with smashed hardware; the end of the kitchen towards the house was +broken into, and since the daylight shone in there, it was evident the +greater part of the house had collapsed. Contrasting vividly with this +ruin was the neat dresser, stained in the fashion, pale green, and with +a number of copper and tin vessels below it, the wallpaper imitating +blue and white tiles, and a couple of coloured supplements fluttering +from the walls above the kitchen range. + +As the dawn grew clearer, we saw through the gap in the wall the body +of a Martian, standing sentinel, I suppose, over the still glowing +cylinder. At the sight of that we crawled as circumspectly as possible +out of the twilight of the kitchen into the darkness of the scullery. + +Abruptly the right interpretation dawned upon my mind. + +“The fifth cylinder,” I whispered, “the fifth shot from Mars, has +struck this house and buried us under the ruins!” + +For a time the curate was silent, and then he whispered: + +“God have mercy upon us!” + +I heard him presently whimpering to himself. + +Save for that sound we lay quite still in the scullery; I for my part +scarce dared breathe, and sat with my eyes fixed on the faint light of +the kitchen door. I could just see the curate’s face, a dim, oval +shape, and his collar and cuffs. Outside there began a metallic +hammering, then a violent hooting, and then again, after a quiet +interval, a hissing like the hissing of an engine. These noises, for +the most part problematical, continued intermittently, and seemed if +anything to increase in number as time wore on. Presently a measured +thudding and a vibration that made everything about us quiver and the +vessels in the pantry ring and shift, began and continued. Once the +light was eclipsed, and the ghostly kitchen doorway became absolutely +dark. For many hours we must have crouched there, silent and shivering, +until our tired attention failed. . . . + +At last I found myself awake and very hungry. I am inclined to believe +we must have spent the greater portion of a day before that awakening. +My hunger was at a stride so insistent that it moved me to action. I +told the curate I was going to seek food, and felt my way towards the +pantry. He made me no answer, but so soon as I began eating the faint +noise I made stirred him up and I heard him crawling after me. + + + + +II. +WHAT WE SAW FROM THE RUINED HOUSE. + + +After eating we crept back to the scullery, and there I must have dozed +again, for when presently I looked round I was alone. The thudding +vibration continued with wearisome persistence. I whispered for the +curate several times, and at last felt my way to the door of the +kitchen. It was still daylight, and I perceived him across the room, +lying against the triangular hole that looked out upon the Martians. +His shoulders were hunched, so that his head was hidden from me. + +I could hear a number of noises almost like those in an engine shed; +and the place rocked with that beating thud. Through the aperture in +the wall I could see the top of a tree touched with gold and the warm +blue of a tranquil evening sky. For a minute or so I remained watching +the curate, and then I advanced, crouching and stepping with extreme +care amid the broken crockery that littered the floor. + +I touched the curate’s leg, and he started so violently that a mass of +plaster went sliding down outside and fell with a loud impact. I +gripped his arm, fearing he might cry out, and for a long time we +crouched motionless. Then I turned to see how much of our rampart +remained. The detachment of the plaster had left a vertical slit open +in the debris, and by raising myself cautiously across a beam I was +able to see out of this gap into what had been overnight a quiet +suburban roadway. Vast, indeed, was the change that we beheld. + +The fifth cylinder must have fallen right into the midst of the house +we had first visited. The building had vanished, completely smashed, +pulverised, and dispersed by the blow. The cylinder lay now far beneath +the original foundations—deep in a hole, already vastly larger than the +pit I had looked into at Woking. The earth all round it had splashed +under that tremendous impact—“splashed” is the only word—and lay in +heaped piles that hid the masses of the adjacent houses. It had behaved +exactly like mud under the violent blow of a hammer. Our house had +collapsed backward; the front portion, even on the ground floor, had +been destroyed completely; by a chance the kitchen and scullery had +escaped, and stood buried now under soil and ruins, closed in by tons +of earth on every side save towards the cylinder. Over that aspect we +hung now on the very edge of the great circular pit the Martians were +engaged in making. The heavy beating sound was evidently just behind +us, and ever and again a bright green vapour drove up like a veil +across our peephole. + +The cylinder was already opened in the centre of the pit, and on the +farther edge of the pit, amid the smashed and gravel-heaped shrubbery, +one of the great fighting-machines, deserted by its occupant, stood +stiff and tall against the evening sky. At first I scarcely noticed the +pit and the cylinder, although it has been convenient to describe them +first, on account of the extraordinary glittering mechanism I saw busy +in the excavation, and on account of the strange creatures that were +crawling slowly and painfully across the heaped mould near it. + +The mechanism it certainly was that held my attention first. It was one +of those complicated fabrics that have since been called +handling-machines, and the study of which has already given such an +enormous impetus to terrestrial invention. As it dawned upon me first, +it presented a sort of metallic spider with five jointed, agile legs, +and with an extraordinary number of jointed levers, bars, and reaching +and clutching tentacles about its body. Most of its arms were +retracted, but with three long tentacles it was fishing out a number of +rods, plates, and bars which lined the covering and apparently +strengthened the walls of the cylinder. These, as it extracted them, +were lifted out and deposited upon a level surface of earth behind it. + +Its motion was so swift, complex, and perfect that at first I did not +see it as a machine, in spite of its metallic glitter. The +fighting-machines were coordinated and animated to an extraordinary +pitch, but nothing to compare with this. People who have never seen +these structures, and have only the ill-imagined efforts of artists or +the imperfect descriptions of such eye-witnesses as myself to go upon, +scarcely realise that living quality. + +I recall particularly the illustration of one of the first pamphlets to +give a consecutive account of the war. The artist had evidently made a +hasty study of one of the fighting-machines, and there his knowledge +ended. He presented them as tilted, stiff tripods, without either +flexibility or subtlety, and with an altogether misleading monotony of +effect. The pamphlet containing these renderings had a considerable +vogue, and I mention them here simply to warn the reader against the +impression they may have created. They were no more like the Martians I +saw in action than a Dutch doll is like a human being. To my mind, the +pamphlet would have been much better without them. + +At first, I say, the handling-machine did not impress me as a machine, +but as a crablike creature with a glittering integument, the +controlling Martian whose delicate tentacles actuated its movements +seeming to be simply the equivalent of the crab’s cerebral portion. But +then I perceived the resemblance of its grey-brown, shiny, leathery +integument to that of the other sprawling bodies beyond, and the true +nature of this dexterous workman dawned upon me. With that realisation +my interest shifted to those other creatures, the real Martians. +Already I had had a transient impression of these, and the first nausea +no longer obscured my observation. Moreover, I was concealed and +motionless, and under no urgency of action. + +They were, I now saw, the most unearthly creatures it is possible to +conceive. They were huge round bodies—or, rather, heads—about four feet +in diameter, each body having in front of it a face. This face had no +nostrils—indeed, the Martians do not seem to have had any sense of +smell, but it had a pair of very large dark-coloured eyes, and just +beneath this a kind of fleshy beak. In the back of this head or body—I +scarcely know how to speak of it—was the single tight tympanic surface, +since known to be anatomically an ear, though it must have been almost +useless in our dense air. In a group round the mouth were sixteen +slender, almost whiplike tentacles, arranged in two bunches of eight +each. These bunches have since been named rather aptly, by that +distinguished anatomist, Professor Howes, the _hands_. Even as I saw +these Martians for the first time they seemed to be endeavouring to +raise themselves on these hands, but of course, with the increased +weight of terrestrial conditions, this was impossible. There is reason +to suppose that on Mars they may have progressed upon them with some +facility. + +The internal anatomy, I may remark here, as dissection has since shown, +was almost equally simple. The greater part of the structure was the +brain, sending enormous nerves to the eyes, ear, and tactile tentacles. +Besides this were the bulky lungs, into which the mouth opened, and the +heart and its vessels. The pulmonary distress caused by the denser +atmosphere and greater gravitational attraction was only too evident in +the convulsive movements of the outer skin. + +And this was the sum of the Martian organs. Strange as it may seem to a +human being, all the complex apparatus of digestion, which makes up the +bulk of our bodies, did not exist in the Martians. They were +heads—merely heads. Entrails they had none. They did not eat, much less +digest. Instead, they took the fresh, living blood of other creatures, +and _injected_ it into their own veins. I have myself seen this being +done, as I shall mention in its place. But, squeamish as I may seem, I +cannot bring myself to describe what I could not endure even to +continue watching. Let it suffice to say, blood obtained from a still +living animal, in most cases from a human being, was run directly by +means of a little pipette into the recipient canal. . . . + +The bare idea of this is no doubt horribly repulsive to us, but at the +same time I think that we should remember how repulsive our carnivorous +habits would seem to an intelligent rabbit. + +The physiological advantages of the practice of injection are +undeniable, if one thinks of the tremendous waste of human time and +energy occasioned by eating and the digestive process. Our bodies are +half made up of glands and tubes and organs, occupied in turning +heterogeneous food into blood. The digestive processes and their +reaction upon the nervous system sap our strength and colour our minds. +Men go happy or miserable as they have healthy or unhealthy livers, or +sound gastric glands. But the Martians were lifted above all these +organic fluctuations of mood and emotion. + +Their undeniable preference for men as their source of nourishment is +partly explained by the nature of the remains of the victims they had +brought with them as provisions from Mars. These creatures, to judge +from the shrivelled remains that have fallen into human hands, were +bipeds with flimsy, silicious skeletons (almost like those of the +silicious sponges) and feeble musculature, standing about six feet high +and having round, erect heads, and large eyes in flinty sockets. Two or +three of these seem to have been brought in each cylinder, and all were +killed before earth was reached. It was just as well for them, for the +mere attempt to stand upright upon our planet would have broken every +bone in their bodies. + +And while I am engaged in this description, I may add in this place +certain further details which, although they were not all evident to us +at the time, will enable the reader who is unacquainted with them to +form a clearer picture of these offensive creatures. + +In three other points their physiology differed strangely from ours. +Their organisms did not sleep, any more than the heart of man sleeps. +Since they had no extensive muscular mechanism to recuperate, that +periodical extinction was unknown to them. They had little or no sense +of fatigue, it would seem. On earth they could never have moved without +effort, yet even to the last they kept in action. In twenty-four hours +they did twenty-four hours of work, as even on earth is perhaps the +case with the ants. + +In the next place, wonderful as it seems in a sexual world, the +Martians were absolutely without sex, and therefore without any of the +tumultuous emotions that arise from that difference among men. A young +Martian, there can now be no dispute, was really born upon earth during +the war, and it was found attached to its parent, partially _budded_ +off, just as young lilybulbs bud off, or like the young animals in the +fresh-water polyp. + +In man, in all the higher terrestrial animals, such a method of +increase has disappeared; but even on this earth it was certainly the +primitive method. Among the lower animals, up even to those first +cousins of the vertebrated animals, the Tunicates, the two processes +occur side by side, but finally the sexual method superseded its +competitor altogether. On Mars, however, just the reverse has +apparently been the case. + +It is worthy of remark that a certain speculative writer of +quasi-scientific repute, writing long before the Martian invasion, did +forecast for man a final structure not unlike the actual Martian +condition. His prophecy, I remember, appeared in November or December, +1893, in a long-defunct publication, the _Pall Mall Budget_, and I +recall a caricature of it in a pre-Martian periodical called _Punch_. +He pointed out—writing in a foolish, facetious tone—that the perfection +of mechanical appliances must ultimately supersede limbs; the +perfection of chemical devices, digestion; that such organs as hair, +external nose, teeth, ears, and chin were no longer essential parts of +the human being, and that the tendency of natural selection would lie +in the direction of their steady diminution through the coming ages. +The brain alone remained a cardinal necessity. Only one other part of +the body had a strong case for survival, and that was the hand, +“teacher and agent of the brain.” While the rest of the body dwindled, +the hands would grow larger. + +There is many a true word written in jest, and here in the Martians we +have beyond dispute the actual accomplishment of such a suppression of +the animal side of the organism by the intelligence. To me it is quite +credible that the Martians may be descended from beings not unlike +ourselves, by a gradual development of brain and hands (the latter +giving rise to the two bunches of delicate tentacles at last) at the +expense of the rest of the body. Without the body the brain would, of +course, become a mere selfish intelligence, without any of the +emotional substratum of the human being. + +The last salient point in which the systems of these creatures differed +from ours was in what one might have thought a very trivial particular. +Micro-organisms, which cause so much disease and pain on earth, have +either never appeared upon Mars or Martian sanitary science eliminated +them ages ago. A hundred diseases, all the fevers and contagions of +human life, consumption, cancers, tumours and such morbidities, never +enter the scheme of their life. And speaking of the differences between +the life on Mars and terrestrial life, I may allude here to the curious +suggestions of the red weed. + +Apparently the vegetable kingdom in Mars, instead of having green for a +dominant colour, is of a vivid blood-red tint. At any rate, the seeds +which the Martians (intentionally or accidentally) brought with them +gave rise in all cases to red-coloured growths. Only that known +popularly as the red weed, however, gained any footing in competition +with terrestrial forms. The red creeper was quite a transitory growth, +and few people have seen it growing. For a time, however, the red weed +grew with astonishing vigour and luxuriance. It spread up the sides of +the pit by the third or fourth day of our imprisonment, and its +cactus-like branches formed a carmine fringe to the edges of our +triangular window. And afterwards I found it broadcast throughout the +country, and especially wherever there was a stream of water. + +The Martians had what appears to have been an auditory organ, a single +round drum at the back of the head-body, and eyes with a visual range +not very different from ours except that, according to Philips, blue +and violet were as black to them. It is commonly supposed that they +communicated by sounds and tentacular gesticulations; this is asserted, +for instance, in the able but hastily compiled pamphlet (written +evidently by someone not an eye-witness of Martian actions) to which I +have already alluded, and which, so far, has been the chief source of +information concerning them. Now no surviving human being saw so much +of the Martians in action as I did. I take no credit to myself for an +accident, but the fact is so. And I assert that I watched them closely +time after time, and that I have seen four, five, and (once) six of +them sluggishly performing the most elaborately complicated operations +together without either sound or gesture. Their peculiar hooting +invariably preceded feeding; it had no modulation, and was, I believe, +in no sense a signal, but merely the expiration of air preparatory to +the suctional operation. I have a certain claim to at least an +elementary knowledge of psychology, and in this matter I am +convinced—as firmly as I am convinced of anything—that the Martians +interchanged thoughts without any physical intermediation. And I have +been convinced of this in spite of strong preconceptions. Before the +Martian invasion, as an occasional reader here or there may remember, I +had written with some little vehemence against the telepathic theory. + +The Martians wore no clothing. Their conceptions of ornament and +decorum were necessarily different from ours; and not only were they +evidently much less sensible of changes of temperature than we are, but +changes of pressure do not seem to have affected their health at all +seriously. Yet though they wore no clothing, it was in the other +artificial additions to their bodily resources that their great +superiority over man lay. We men, with our bicycles and road-skates, +our Lilienthal soaring-machines, our guns and sticks and so forth, are +just in the beginning of the evolution that the Martians have worked +out. They have become practically mere brains, wearing different bodies +according to their needs just as men wear suits of clothes and take a +bicycle in a hurry or an umbrella in the wet. And of their appliances, +perhaps nothing is more wonderful to a man than the curious fact that +what is the dominant feature of almost all human devices in mechanism +is absent—the _wheel_ is absent; among all the things they brought to +earth there is no trace or suggestion of their use of wheels. One would +have at least expected it in locomotion. And in this connection it is +curious to remark that even on this earth Nature has never hit upon the +wheel, or has preferred other expedients to its development. And not +only did the Martians either not know of (which is incredible), or +abstain from, the wheel, but in their apparatus singularly little use +is made of the fixed pivot or relatively fixed pivot, with circular +motions thereabout confined to one plane. Almost all the joints of the +machinery present a complicated system of sliding parts moving over +small but beautifully curved friction bearings. And while upon this +matter of detail, it is remarkable that the long leverages of their +machines are in most cases actuated by a sort of sham musculature of +the disks in an elastic sheath; these disks become polarised and drawn +closely and powerfully together when traversed by a current of +electricity. In this way the curious parallelism to animal motions, +which was so striking and disturbing to the human beholder, was +attained. Such quasi-muscles abounded in the crablike handling-machine +which, on my first peeping out of the slit, I watched unpacking the +cylinder. It seemed infinitely more alive than the actual Martians +lying beyond it in the sunset light, panting, stirring ineffectual +tentacles, and moving feebly after their vast journey across space. + +While I was still watching their sluggish motions in the sunlight, and +noting each strange detail of their form, the curate reminded me of his +presence by pulling violently at my arm. I turned to a scowling face, +and silent, eloquent lips. He wanted the slit, which permitted only one +of us to peep through; and so I had to forego watching them for a time +while he enjoyed that privilege. + +When I looked again, the busy handling-machine had already put together +several of the pieces of apparatus it had taken out of the cylinder +into a shape having an unmistakable likeness to its own; and down on +the left a busy little digging mechanism had come into view, emitting +jets of green vapour and working its way round the pit, excavating and +embanking in a methodical and discriminating manner. This it was which +had caused the regular beating noise, and the rhythmic shocks that had +kept our ruinous refuge quivering. It piped and whistled as it worked. +So far as I could see, the thing was without a directing Martian at +all. + + + + +III. +THE DAYS OF IMPRISONMENT. + + +The arrival of a second fighting-machine drove us from our peephole +into the scullery, for we feared that from his elevation the Martian +might see down upon us behind our barrier. At a later date we began to +feel less in danger of their eyes, for to an eye in the dazzle of the +sunlight outside our refuge must have been blank blackness, but at +first the slightest suggestion of approach drove us into the scullery +in heart-throbbing retreat. Yet terrible as was the danger we incurred, +the attraction of peeping was for both of us irresistible. And I recall +now with a sort of wonder that, in spite of the infinite danger in +which we were between starvation and a still more terrible death, we +could yet struggle bitterly for that horrible privilege of sight. We +would race across the kitchen in a grotesque way between eagerness and +the dread of making a noise, and strike each other, and thrust and +kick, within a few inches of exposure. + +The fact is that we had absolutely incompatible dispositions and habits +of thought and action, and our danger and isolation only accentuated +the incompatibility. At Halliford I had already come to hate the +curate’s trick of helpless exclamation, his stupid rigidity of mind. +His endless muttering monologue vitiated every effort I made to think +out a line of action, and drove me at times, thus pent up and +intensified, almost to the verge of craziness. He was as lacking in +restraint as a silly woman. He would weep for hours together, and I +verily believe that to the very end this spoiled child of life thought +his weak tears in some way efficacious. And I would sit in the darkness +unable to keep my mind off him by reason of his importunities. He ate +more than I did, and it was in vain I pointed out that our only chance +of life was to stop in the house until the Martians had done with their +pit, that in that long patience a time might presently come when we +should need food. He ate and drank impulsively in heavy meals at long +intervals. He slept little. + +As the days wore on, his utter carelessness of any consideration so +intensified our distress and danger that I had, much as I loathed doing +it, to resort to threats, and at last to blows. That brought him to +reason for a time. But he was one of those weak creatures, void of +pride, timorous, anæmic, hateful souls, full of shifty cunning, who +face neither God nor man, who face not even themselves. + +It is disagreeable for me to recall and write these things, but I set +them down that my story may lack nothing. Those who have escaped the +dark and terrible aspects of life will find my brutality, my flash of +rage in our final tragedy, easy enough to blame; for they know what is +wrong as well as any, but not what is possible to tortured men. But +those who have been under the shadow, who have gone down at last to +elemental things, will have a wider charity. + +And while within we fought out our dark, dim contest of whispers, +snatched food and drink, and gripping hands and blows, without, in the +pitiless sunlight of that terrible June, was the strange wonder, the +unfamiliar routine of the Martians in the pit. Let me return to those +first new experiences of mine. After a long time I ventured back to the +peephole, to find that the new-comers had been reinforced by the +occupants of no fewer than three of the fighting-machines. These last +had brought with them certain fresh appliances that stood in an orderly +manner about the cylinder. The second handling-machine was now +completed, and was busied in serving one of the novel contrivances the +big machine had brought. This was a body resembling a milk can in its +general form, above which oscillated a pear-shaped receptacle, and from +which a stream of white powder flowed into a circular basin below. + +The oscillatory motion was imparted to this by one tentacle of the +handling-machine. With two spatulate hands the handling-machine was +digging out and flinging masses of clay into the pear-shaped receptacle +above, while with another arm it periodically opened a door and removed +rusty and blackened clinkers from the middle part of the machine. +Another steely tentacle directed the powder from the basin along a +ribbed channel towards some receiver that was hidden from me by the +mound of bluish dust. From this unseen receiver a little thread of +green smoke rose vertically into the quiet air. As I looked, the +handling-machine, with a faint and musical clinking, extended, +telescopic fashion, a tentacle that had been a moment before a mere +blunt projection, until its end was hidden behind the mound of clay. In +another second it had lifted a bar of white aluminium into sight, +untarnished as yet, and shining dazzlingly, and deposited it in a +growing stack of bars that stood at the side of the pit. Between sunset +and starlight this dexterous machine must have made more than a hundred +such bars out of the crude clay, and the mound of bluish dust rose +steadily until it topped the side of the pit. + +The contrast between the swift and complex movements of these +contrivances and the inert panting clumsiness of their masters was +acute, and for days I had to tell myself repeatedly that these latter +were indeed the living of the two things. + +The curate had possession of the slit when the first men were brought +to the pit. I was sitting below, huddled up, listening with all my +ears. He made a sudden movement backward, and I, fearful that we were +observed, crouched in a spasm of terror. He came sliding down the +rubbish and crept beside me in the darkness, inarticulate, +gesticulating, and for a moment I shared his panic. His gesture +suggested a resignation of the slit, and after a little while my +curiosity gave me courage, and I rose up, stepped across him, and +clambered up to it. At first I could see no reason for his frantic +behaviour. The twilight had now come, the stars were little and faint, +but the pit was illuminated by the flickering green fire that came from +the aluminium-making. The whole picture was a flickering scheme of +green gleams and shifting rusty black shadows, strangely trying to the +eyes. Over and through it all went the bats, heeding it not at all. The +sprawling Martians were no longer to be seen, the mound of blue-green +powder had risen to cover them from sight, and a fighting-machine, with +its legs contracted, crumpled, and abbreviated, stood across the corner +of the pit. And then, amid the clangour of the machinery, came a +drifting suspicion of human voices, that I entertained at first only to +dismiss. + +I crouched, watching this fighting-machine closely, satisfying myself +now for the first time that the hood did indeed contain a Martian. As +the green flames lifted I could see the oily gleam of his integument +and the brightness of his eyes. And suddenly I heard a yell, and saw a +long tentacle reaching over the shoulder of the machine to the little +cage that hunched upon its back. Then something—something struggling +violently—was lifted high against the sky, a black, vague enigma +against the starlight; and as this black object came down again, I saw +by the green brightness that it was a man. For an instant he was +clearly visible. He was a stout, ruddy, middle-aged man, well dressed; +three days before, he must have been walking the world, a man of +considerable consequence. I could see his staring eyes and gleams of +light on his studs and watch chain. He vanished behind the mound, and +for a moment there was silence. And then began a shrieking and a +sustained and cheerful hooting from the Martians. + +I slid down the rubbish, struggled to my feet, clapped my hands over my +ears, and bolted into the scullery. The curate, who had been crouching +silently with his arms over his head, looked up as I passed, cried out +quite loudly at my desertion of him, and came running after me. + +That night, as we lurked in the scullery, balanced between our horror +and the terrible fascination this peeping had, although I felt an +urgent need of action I tried in vain to conceive some plan of escape; +but afterwards, during the second day, I was able to consider our +position with great clearness. The curate, I found, was quite incapable +of discussion; this new and culminating atrocity had robbed him of all +vestiges of reason or forethought. Practically he had already sunk to +the level of an animal. But as the saying goes, I gripped myself with +both hands. It grew upon my mind, once I could face the facts, that +terrible as our position was, there was as yet no justification for +absolute despair. Our chief chance lay in the possibility of the +Martians making the pit nothing more than a temporary encampment. Or +even if they kept it permanently, they might not consider it necessary +to guard it, and a chance of escape might be afforded us. I also +weighed very carefully the possibility of our digging a way out in a +direction away from the pit, but the chances of our emerging within +sight of some sentinel fighting-machine seemed at first too great. And +I should have had to do all the digging myself. The curate would +certainly have failed me. + +It was on the third day, if my memory serves me right, that I saw the +lad killed. It was the only occasion on which I actually saw the +Martians feed. After that experience I avoided the hole in the wall for +the better part of a day. I went into the scullery, removed the door, +and spent some hours digging with my hatchet as silently as possible; +but when I had made a hole about a couple of feet deep the loose earth +collapsed noisily, and I did not dare continue. I lost heart, and lay +down on the scullery floor for a long time, having no spirit even to +move. And after that I abandoned altogether the idea of escaping by +excavation. + +It says much for the impression the Martians had made upon me that at +first I entertained little or no hope of our escape being brought about +by their overthrow through any human effort. But on the fourth or fifth +night I heard a sound like heavy guns. + +It was very late in the night, and the moon was shining brightly. The +Martians had taken away the excavating-machine, and, save for a +fighting-machine that stood in the remoter bank of the pit and a +handling-machine that was buried out of my sight in a corner of the pit +immediately beneath my peephole, the place was deserted by them. Except +for the pale glow from the handling-machine and the bars and patches of +white moonlight the pit was in darkness, and, except for the clinking +of the handling-machine, quite still. That night was a beautiful +serenity; save for one planet, the moon seemed to have the sky to +herself. I heard a dog howling, and that familiar sound it was that +made me listen. Then I heard quite distinctly a booming exactly like +the sound of great guns. Six distinct reports I counted, and after a +long interval six again. And that was all. + + + + +IV. +THE DEATH OF THE CURATE. + + +It was on the sixth day of our imprisonment that I peeped for the last +time, and presently found myself alone. Instead of keeping close to me +and trying to oust me from the slit, the curate had gone back into the +scullery. I was struck by a sudden thought. I went back quickly and +quietly into the scullery. In the darkness I heard the curate drinking. +I snatched in the darkness, and my fingers caught a bottle of burgundy. + +For a few minutes there was a tussle. The bottle struck the floor and +broke, and I desisted and rose. We stood panting and threatening each +other. In the end I planted myself between him and the food, and told +him of my determination to begin a discipline. I divided the food in +the pantry, into rations to last us ten days. I would not let him eat +any more that day. In the afternoon he made a feeble effort to get at +the food. I had been dozing, but in an instant I was awake. All day and +all night we sat face to face, I weary but resolute, and he weeping and +complaining of his immediate hunger. It was, I know, a night and a day, +but to me it seemed—it seems now—an interminable length of time. + +And so our widened incompatibility ended at last in open conflict. For +two vast days we struggled in undertones and wrestling contests. There +were times when I beat and kicked him madly, times when I cajoled and +persuaded him, and once I tried to bribe him with the last bottle of +burgundy, for there was a rain-water pump from which I could get water. +But neither force nor kindness availed; he was indeed beyond reason. He +would neither desist from his attacks on the food nor from his noisy +babbling to himself. The rudimentary precautions to keep our +imprisonment endurable he would not observe. Slowly I began to realise +the complete overthrow of his intelligence, to perceive that my sole +companion in this close and sickly darkness was a man insane. + +From certain vague memories I am inclined to think my own mind wandered +at times. I had strange and hideous dreams whenever I slept. It sounds +paradoxical, but I am inclined to think that the weakness and insanity +of the curate warned me, braced me, and kept me a sane man. + +On the eighth day he began to talk aloud instead of whispering, and +nothing I could do would moderate his speech. + +“It is just, O God!” he would say, over and over again. “It is just. On +me and mine be the punishment laid. We have sinned, we have fallen +short. There was poverty, sorrow; the poor were trodden in the dust, +and I held my peace. I preached acceptable folly—my God, what +folly!—when I should have stood up, though I died for it, and called +upon them to repent—repent! . . . Oppressors of the poor and needy . . +. ! The wine press of God!” + +Then he would suddenly revert to the matter of the food I withheld from +him, praying, begging, weeping, at last threatening. He began to raise +his voice—I prayed him not to. He perceived a hold on me—he threatened +he would shout and bring the Martians upon us. For a time that scared +me; but any concession would have shortened our chance of escape beyond +estimating. I defied him, although I felt no assurance that he might +not do this thing. But that day, at any rate, he did not. He talked +with his voice rising slowly, through the greater part of the eighth +and ninth days—threats, entreaties, mingled with a torrent of half-sane +and always frothy repentance for his vacant sham of God’s service, such +as made me pity him. Then he slept awhile, and began again with renewed +strength, so loudly that I must needs make him desist. + +“Be still!” I implored. + +He rose to his knees, for he had been sitting in the darkness near the +copper. + +“I have been still too long,” he said, in a tone that must have reached +the pit, “and now I must bear my witness. Woe unto this unfaithful +city! Woe! Woe! Woe! Woe! Woe! To the inhabitants of the earth by +reason of the other voices of the trumpet——” + +“Shut up!” I said, rising to my feet, and in a terror lest the Martians +should hear us. “For God’s sake——” + +“Nay,” shouted the curate, at the top of his voice, standing likewise +and extending his arms. “Speak! The word of the Lord is upon me!” + +In three strides he was at the door leading into the kitchen. + +“I must bear my witness! I go! It has already been too long delayed.” + +I put out my hand and felt the meat chopper hanging to the wall. In a +flash I was after him. I was fierce with fear. Before he was halfway +across the kitchen I had overtaken him. With one last touch of humanity +I turned the blade back and struck him with the butt. He went headlong +forward and lay stretched on the ground. I stumbled over him and stood +panting. He lay still. + +Suddenly I heard a noise without, the run and smash of slipping +plaster, and the triangular aperture in the wall was darkened. I looked +up and saw the lower surface of a handling-machine coming slowly across +the hole. One of its gripping limbs curled amid the debris; another +limb appeared, feeling its way over the fallen beams. I stood +petrified, staring. Then I saw through a sort of glass plate near the +edge of the body the face, as we may call it, and the large dark eyes +of a Martian, peering, and then a long metallic snake of tentacle came +feeling slowly through the hole. + +I turned by an effort, stumbled over the curate, and stopped at the +scullery door. The tentacle was now some way, two yards or more, in the +room, and twisting and turning, with queer sudden movements, this way +and that. For a while I stood fascinated by that slow, fitful advance. +Then, with a faint, hoarse cry, I forced myself across the scullery. I +trembled violently; I could scarcely stand upright. I opened the door +of the coal cellar, and stood there in the darkness staring at the +faintly lit doorway into the kitchen, and listening. Had the Martian +seen me? What was it doing now? + +Something was moving to and fro there, very quietly; every now and then +it tapped against the wall, or started on its movements with a faint +metallic ringing, like the movements of keys on a split-ring. Then a +heavy body—I knew too well what—was dragged across the floor of the +kitchen towards the opening. Irresistibly attracted, I crept to the +door and peeped into the kitchen. In the triangle of bright outer +sunlight I saw the Martian, in its Briareus of a handling-machine, +scrutinizing the curate’s head. I thought at once that it would infer +my presence from the mark of the blow I had given him. + +I crept back to the coal cellar, shut the door, and began to cover +myself up as much as I could, and as noiselessly as possible in the +darkness, among the firewood and coal therein. Every now and then I +paused, rigid, to hear if the Martian had thrust its tentacles through +the opening again. + +Then the faint metallic jingle returned. I traced it slowly feeling +over the kitchen. Presently I heard it nearer—in the scullery, as I +judged. I thought that its length might be insufficient to reach me. I +prayed copiously. It passed, scraping faintly across the cellar door. +An age of almost intolerable suspense intervened; then I heard it +fumbling at the latch! It had found the door! The Martians understood +doors! + +It worried at the catch for a minute, perhaps, and then the door +opened. + +In the darkness I could just see the thing—like an elephant’s trunk +more than anything else—waving towards me and touching and examining +the wall, coals, wood and ceiling. It was like a black worm swaying its +blind head to and fro. + +Once, even, it touched the heel of my boot. I was on the verge of +screaming; I bit my hand. For a time the tentacle was silent. I could +have fancied it had been withdrawn. Presently, with an abrupt click, it +gripped something—I thought it had me!—and seemed to go out of the +cellar again. For a minute I was not sure. Apparently it had taken a +lump of coal to examine. + +I seized the opportunity of slightly shifting my position, which had +become cramped, and then listened. I whispered passionate prayers for +safety. + +Then I heard the slow, deliberate sound creeping towards me again. +Slowly, slowly it drew near, scratching against the walls and tapping +the furniture. + +While I was still doubtful, it rapped smartly against the cellar door +and closed it. I heard it go into the pantry, and the biscuit-tins +rattled and a bottle smashed, and then came a heavy bump against the +cellar door. Then silence that passed into an infinity of suspense. + +Had it gone? + +At last I decided that it had. + +It came into the scullery no more; but I lay all the tenth day in the +close darkness, buried among coals and firewood, not daring even to +crawl out for the drink for which I craved. It was the eleventh day +before I ventured so far from my security. + + + + +V. +THE STILLNESS. + + +My first act before I went into the pantry was to fasten the door +between the kitchen and the scullery. But the pantry was empty; every +scrap of food had gone. Apparently, the Martian had taken it all on the +previous day. At that discovery I despaired for the first time. I took +no food, or no drink either, on the eleventh or the twelfth day. + +At first my mouth and throat were parched, and my strength ebbed +sensibly. I sat about in the darkness of the scullery, in a state of +despondent wretchedness. My mind ran on eating. I thought I had become +deaf, for the noises of movement I had been accustomed to hear from the +pit had ceased absolutely. I did not feel strong enough to crawl +noiselessly to the peephole, or I would have gone there. + +On the twelfth day my throat was so painful that, taking the chance of +alarming the Martians, I attacked the creaking rain-water pump that +stood by the sink, and got a couple of glassfuls of blackened and +tainted rain water. I was greatly refreshed by this, and emboldened by +the fact that no enquiring tentacle followed the noise of my pumping. + +During these days, in a rambling, inconclusive way, I thought much of +the curate and of the manner of his death. + +On the thirteenth day I drank some more water, and dozed and thought +disjointedly of eating and of vague impossible plans of escape. +Whenever I dozed I dreamt of horrible phantasms, of the death of the +curate, or of sumptuous dinners; but, asleep or awake, I felt a keen +pain that urged me to drink again and again. The light that came into +the scullery was no longer grey, but red. To my disordered imagination +it seemed the colour of blood. + +On the fourteenth day I went into the kitchen, and I was surprised to +find that the fronds of the red weed had grown right across the hole in +the wall, turning the half-light of the place into a crimson-coloured +obscurity. + +It was early on the fifteenth day that I heard a curious, familiar +sequence of sounds in the kitchen, and, listening, identified it as the +snuffing and scratching of a dog. Going into the kitchen, I saw a dog’s +nose peering in through a break among the ruddy fronds. This greatly +surprised me. At the scent of me he barked shortly. + +I thought if I could induce him to come into the place quietly I should +be able, perhaps, to kill and eat him; and in any case, it would be +advisable to kill him, lest his actions attracted the attention of the +Martians. + +I crept forward, saying “Good dog!” very softly; but he suddenly +withdrew his head and disappeared. + +I listened—I was not deaf—but certainly the pit was still. I heard a +sound like the flutter of a bird’s wings, and a hoarse croaking, but +that was all. + +For a long while I lay close to the peephole, but not daring to move +aside the red plants that obscured it. Once or twice I heard a faint +pitter-patter like the feet of the dog going hither and thither on the +sand far below me, and there were more birdlike sounds, but that was +all. At length, encouraged by the silence, I looked out. + +Except in the corner, where a multitude of crows hopped and fought over +the skeletons of the dead the Martians had consumed, there was not a +living thing in the pit. + +I stared about me, scarcely believing my eyes. All the machinery had +gone. Save for the big mound of greyish-blue powder in one corner, +certain bars of aluminium in another, the black birds, and the +skeletons of the killed, the place was merely an empty circular pit in +the sand. + +Slowly I thrust myself out through the red weed, and stood upon the +mound of rubble. I could see in any direction save behind me, to the +north, and neither Martians nor sign of Martians were to be seen. The +pit dropped sheerly from my feet, but a little way along the rubbish +afforded a practicable slope to the summit of the ruins. My chance of +escape had come. I began to tremble. + +I hesitated for some time, and then, in a gust of desperate resolution, +and with a heart that throbbed violently, I scrambled to the top of the +mound in which I had been buried so long. + +I looked about again. To the northward, too, no Martian was visible. + +When I had last seen this part of Sheen in the daylight it had been a +straggling street of comfortable white and red houses, interspersed +with abundant shady trees. Now I stood on a mound of smashed brickwork, +clay, and gravel, over which spread a multitude of red cactus-shaped +plants, knee-high, without a solitary terrestrial growth to dispute +their footing. The trees near me were dead and brown, but further a +network of red thread scaled the still living stems. + +The neighbouring houses had all been wrecked, but none had been burned; +their walls stood, sometimes to the second story, with smashed windows +and shattered doors. The red weed grew tumultuously in their roofless +rooms. Below me was the great pit, with the crows struggling for its +refuse. A number of other birds hopped about among the ruins. Far away +I saw a gaunt cat slink crouchingly along a wall, but traces of men +there were none. + +The day seemed, by contrast with my recent confinement, dazzlingly +bright, the sky a glowing blue. A gentle breeze kept the red weed that +covered every scrap of unoccupied ground gently swaying. And oh! the +sweetness of the air! + + + + +VI. +THE WORK OF FIFTEEN DAYS. + + +For some time I stood tottering on the mound regardless of my safety. +Within that noisome den from which I had emerged I had thought with a +narrow intensity only of our immediate security. I had not realised +what had been happening to the world, had not anticipated this +startling vision of unfamiliar things. I had expected to see Sheen in +ruins—I found about me the landscape, weird and lurid, of another +planet. + +For that moment I touched an emotion beyond the common range of men, +yet one that the poor brutes we dominate know only too well. I felt as +a rabbit might feel returning to his burrow and suddenly confronted by +the work of a dozen busy navvies digging the foundations of a house. I +felt the first inkling of a thing that presently grew quite clear in my +mind, that oppressed me for many days, a sense of dethronement, a +persuasion that I was no longer a master, but an animal among the +animals, under the Martian heel. With us it would be as with them, to +lurk and watch, to run and hide; the fear and empire of man had passed +away. + +But so soon as this strangeness had been realised it passed, and my +dominant motive became the hunger of my long and dismal fast. In the +direction away from the pit I saw, beyond a red-covered wall, a patch +of garden ground unburied. This gave me a hint, and I went knee-deep, +and sometimes neck-deep, in the red weed. The density of the weed gave +me a reassuring sense of hiding. The wall was some six feet high, and +when I attempted to clamber it I found I could not lift my feet to the +crest. So I went along by the side of it, and came to a corner and a +rockwork that enabled me to get to the top, and tumble into the garden +I coveted. Here I found some young onions, a couple of gladiolus bulbs, +and a quantity of immature carrots, all of which I secured, and, +scrambling over a ruined wall, went on my way through scarlet and +crimson trees towards Kew—it was like walking through an avenue of +gigantic blood drops—possessed with two ideas: to get more food, and to +limp, as soon and as far as my strength permitted, out of this accursed +unearthly region of the pit. + +Some way farther, in a grassy place, was a group of mushrooms which +also I devoured, and then I came upon a brown sheet of flowing shallow +water, where meadows used to be. These fragments of nourishment served +only to whet my hunger. At first I was surprised at this flood in a +hot, dry summer, but afterwards I discovered that it was caused by the +tropical exuberance of the red weed. Directly this extraordinary growth +encountered water it straightway became gigantic and of unparalleled +fecundity. Its seeds were simply poured down into the water of the Wey +and Thames, and its swiftly growing and Titanic water fronds speedily +choked both those rivers. + +At Putney, as I afterwards saw, the bridge was almost lost in a tangle +of this weed, and at Richmond, too, the Thames water poured in a broad +and shallow stream across the meadows of Hampton and Twickenham. As the +water spread the weed followed them, until the ruined villas of the +Thames valley were for a time lost in this red swamp, whose margin I +explored, and much of the desolation the Martians had caused was +concealed. + +In the end the red weed succumbed almost as quickly as it had spread. A +cankering disease, due, it is believed, to the action of certain +bacteria, presently seized upon it. Now by the action of natural +selection, all terrestrial plants have acquired a resisting power +against bacterial diseases—they never succumb without a severe +struggle, but the red weed rotted like a thing already dead. The fronds +became bleached, and then shrivelled and brittle. They broke off at the +least touch, and the waters that had stimulated their early growth +carried their last vestiges out to sea. + +My first act on coming to this water was, of course, to slake my +thirst. I drank a great deal of it and, moved by an impulse, gnawed +some fronds of red weed; but they were watery, and had a sickly, +metallic taste. I found the water was sufficiently shallow for me to +wade securely, although the red weed impeded my feet a little; but the +flood evidently got deeper towards the river, and I turned back to +Mortlake. I managed to make out the road by means of occasional ruins +of its villas and fences and lamps, and so presently I got out of this +spate and made my way to the hill going up towards Roehampton and came +out on Putney Common. + +Here the scenery changed from the strange and unfamiliar to the +wreckage of the familiar: patches of ground exhibited the devastation +of a cyclone, and in a few score yards I would come upon perfectly +undisturbed spaces, houses with their blinds trimly drawn and doors +closed, as if they had been left for a day by the owners, or as if +their inhabitants slept within. The red weed was less abundant; the +tall trees along the lane were free from the red creeper. I hunted for +food among the trees, finding nothing, and I also raided a couple of +silent houses, but they had already been broken into and ransacked. I +rested for the remainder of the daylight in a shrubbery, being, in my +enfeebled condition, too fatigued to push on. + +All this time I saw no human beings, and no signs of the Martians. I +encountered a couple of hungry-looking dogs, but both hurried +circuitously away from the advances I made them. Near Roehampton I had +seen two human skeletons—not bodies, but skeletons, picked clean—and in +the wood by me I found the crushed and scattered bones of several cats +and rabbits and the skull of a sheep. But though I gnawed parts of +these in my mouth, there was nothing to be got from them. + +After sunset I struggled on along the road towards Putney, where I +think the Heat-Ray must have been used for some reason. And in the +garden beyond Roehampton I got a quantity of immature potatoes, +sufficient to stay my hunger. From this garden one looked down upon +Putney and the river. The aspect of the place in the dusk was +singularly desolate: blackened trees, blackened, desolate ruins, and +down the hill the sheets of the flooded river, red-tinged with the +weed. And over all—silence. It filled me with indescribable terror to +think how swiftly that desolating change had come. + +For a time I believed that mankind had been swept out of existence, and +that I stood there alone, the last man left alive. Hard by the top of +Putney Hill I came upon another skeleton, with the arms dislocated and +removed several yards from the rest of the body. As I proceeded I +became more and more convinced that the extermination of mankind was, +save for such stragglers as myself, already accomplished in this part +of the world. The Martians, I thought, had gone on and left the country +desolated, seeking food elsewhere. Perhaps even now they were +destroying Berlin or Paris, or it might be they had gone northward. + + + + +VII. +THE MAN ON PUTNEY HILL. + + +I spent that night in the inn that stands at the top of Putney Hill, +sleeping in a made bed for the first time since my flight to +Leatherhead. I will not tell the needless trouble I had breaking into +that house—afterwards I found the front door was on the latch—nor how I +ransacked every room for food, until just on the verge of despair, in +what seemed to me to be a servant’s bedroom, I found a rat-gnawed crust +and two tins of pineapple. The place had been already searched and +emptied. In the bar I afterwards found some biscuits and sandwiches +that had been overlooked. The latter I could not eat, they were too +rotten, but the former not only stayed my hunger, but filled my +pockets. I lit no lamps, fearing some Martian might come beating that +part of London for food in the night. Before I went to bed I had an +interval of restlessness, and prowled from window to window, peering +out for some sign of these monsters. I slept little. As I lay in bed I +found myself thinking consecutively—a thing I do not remember to have +done since my last argument with the curate. During all the intervening +time my mental condition had been a hurrying succession of vague +emotional states or a sort of stupid receptivity. But in the night my +brain, reinforced, I suppose, by the food I had eaten, grew clear +again, and I thought. + +Three things struggled for possession of my mind: the killing of the +curate, the whereabouts of the Martians, and the possible fate of my +wife. The former gave me no sensation of horror or remorse to recall; I +saw it simply as a thing done, a memory infinitely disagreeable but +quite without the quality of remorse. I saw myself then as I see myself +now, driven step by step towards that hasty blow, the creature of a +sequence of accidents leading inevitably to that. I felt no +condemnation; yet the memory, static, unprogressive, haunted me. In the +silence of the night, with that sense of the nearness of God that +sometimes comes into the stillness and the darkness, I stood my trial, +my only trial, for that moment of wrath and fear. I retraced every step +of our conversation from the moment when I had found him crouching +beside me, heedless of my thirst, and pointing to the fire and smoke +that streamed up from the ruins of Weybridge. We had been incapable of +co-operation—grim chance had taken no heed of that. Had I foreseen, I +should have left him at Halliford. But I did not foresee; and crime is +to foresee and do. And I set this down as I have set all this story +down, as it was. There were no witnesses—all these things I might have +concealed. But I set it down, and the reader must form his judgment as +he will. + +And when, by an effort, I had set aside that picture of a prostrate +body, I faced the problem of the Martians and the fate of my wife. For +the former I had no data; I could imagine a hundred things, and so, +unhappily, I could for the latter. And suddenly that night became +terrible. I found myself sitting up in bed, staring at the dark. I +found myself praying that the Heat-Ray might have suddenly and +painlessly struck her out of being. Since the night of my return from +Leatherhead I had not prayed. I had uttered prayers, fetish prayers, +had prayed as heathens mutter charms when I was in extremity; but now I +prayed indeed, pleading steadfastly and sanely, face to face with the +darkness of God. Strange night! Strangest in this, that so soon as dawn +had come, I, who had talked with God, crept out of the house like a rat +leaving its hiding place—a creature scarcely larger, an inferior +animal, a thing that for any passing whim of our masters might be +hunted and killed. Perhaps they also prayed confidently to God. Surely, +if we have learned nothing else, this war has taught us pity—pity for +those witless souls that suffer our dominion. + +The morning was bright and fine, and the eastern sky glowed pink, and +was fretted with little golden clouds. In the road that runs from the +top of Putney Hill to Wimbledon was a number of poor vestiges of the +panic torrent that must have poured Londonward on the Sunday night +after the fighting began. There was a little two-wheeled cart inscribed +with the name of Thomas Lobb, Greengrocer, New Malden, with a smashed +wheel and an abandoned tin trunk; there was a straw hat trampled into +the now hardened mud, and at the top of West Hill a lot of +blood-stained glass about the overturned water trough. My movements +were languid, my plans of the vaguest. I had an idea of going to +Leatherhead, though I knew that there I had the poorest chance of +finding my wife. Certainly, unless death had overtaken them suddenly, +my cousins and she would have fled thence; but it seemed to me I might +find or learn there whither the Surrey people had fled. I knew I wanted +to find my wife, that my heart ached for her and the world of men, but +I had no clear idea how the finding might be done. I was also sharply +aware now of my intense loneliness. From the corner I went, under cover +of a thicket of trees and bushes, to the edge of Wimbledon Common, +stretching wide and far. + +That dark expanse was lit in patches by yellow gorse and broom; there +was no red weed to be seen, and as I prowled, hesitating, on the verge +of the open, the sun rose, flooding it all with light and vitality. I +came upon a busy swarm of little frogs in a swampy place among the +trees. I stopped to look at them, drawing a lesson from their stout +resolve to live. And presently, turning suddenly, with an odd feeling +of being watched, I beheld something crouching amid a clump of bushes. +I stood regarding this. I made a step towards it, and it rose up and +became a man armed with a cutlass. I approached him slowly. He stood +silent and motionless, regarding me. + +As I drew nearer I perceived he was dressed in clothes as dusty and +filthy as my own; he looked, indeed, as though he had been dragged +through a culvert. Nearer, I distinguished the green slime of ditches +mixing with the pale drab of dried clay and shiny, coaly patches. His +black hair fell over his eyes, and his face was dark and dirty and +sunken, so that at first I did not recognise him. There was a red cut +across the lower part of his face. + +“Stop!” he cried, when I was within ten yards of him, and I stopped. +His voice was hoarse. “Where do you come from?” he said. + +I thought, surveying him. + +“I come from Mortlake,” I said. “I was buried near the pit the Martians +made about their cylinder. I have worked my way out and escaped.” + +“There is no food about here,” he said. “This is my country. All this +hill down to the river, and back to Clapham, and up to the edge of the +common. There is only food for one. Which way are you going?” + +I answered slowly. + +“I don’t know,” I said. “I have been buried in the ruins of a house +thirteen or fourteen days. I don’t know what has happened.” + +He looked at me doubtfully, then started, and looked with a changed +expression. + +“I’ve no wish to stop about here,” said I. “I think I shall go to +Leatherhead, for my wife was there.” + +He shot out a pointing finger. + +“It is you,” said he; “the man from Woking. And you weren’t killed at +Weybridge?” + +I recognised him at the same moment. + +“You are the artilleryman who came into my garden.” + +“Good luck!” he said. “We are lucky ones! Fancy _you_!” He put out a +hand, and I took it. “I crawled up a drain,” he said. “But they didn’t +kill everyone. And after they went away I got off towards Walton across +the fields. But—— It’s not sixteen days altogether—and your hair is +grey.” He looked over his shoulder suddenly. “Only a rook,” he said. +“One gets to know that birds have shadows these days. This is a bit +open. Let us crawl under those bushes and talk.” + +“Have you seen any Martians?” I said. “Since I crawled out——” + +“They’ve gone away across London,” he said. “I guess they’ve got a +bigger camp there. Of a night, all over there, Hampstead way, the sky +is alive with their lights. It’s like a great city, and in the glare +you can just see them moving. By daylight you can’t. But nearer—I +haven’t seen them—” (he counted on his fingers) “five days. Then I saw +a couple across Hammersmith way carrying something big. And the night +before last”—he stopped and spoke impressively—“it was just a matter of +lights, but it was something up in the air. I believe they’ve built a +flying-machine, and are learning to fly.” + +I stopped, on hands and knees, for we had come to the bushes. + +“Fly!” + +“Yes,” he said, “fly.” + +I went on into a little bower, and sat down. + +“It is all over with humanity,” I said. “If they can do that they will +simply go round the world.” + +He nodded. + +“They will. But—— It will relieve things over here a bit. And +besides——” He looked at me. “Aren’t you satisfied it _is_ up with +humanity? I am. We’re down; we’re beat.” + +I stared. Strange as it may seem, I had not arrived at this fact—a fact +perfectly obvious so soon as he spoke. I had still held a vague hope; +rather, I had kept a lifelong habit of mind. He repeated his words, +“We’re beat.” They carried absolute conviction. + +“It’s all over,” he said. “They’ve lost _one_—just _one_. And they’ve +made their footing good and crippled the greatest power in the world. +They’ve walked over us. The death of that one at Weybridge was an +accident. And these are only pioneers. They kept on coming. These green +stars—I’ve seen none these five or six days, but I’ve no doubt they’re +falling somewhere every night. Nothing’s to be done. We’re under! We’re +beat!” + +I made him no answer. I sat staring before me, trying in vain to devise +some countervailing thought. + +“This isn’t a war,” said the artilleryman. “It never was a war, any +more than there’s war between man and ants.” + +Suddenly I recalled the night in the observatory. + +“After the tenth shot they fired no more—at least, until the first +cylinder came.” + +“How do you know?” said the artilleryman. I explained. He thought. +“Something wrong with the gun,” he said. “But what if there is? They’ll +get it right again. And even if there’s a delay, how can it alter the +end? It’s just men and ants. There’s the ants builds their cities, live +their lives, have wars, revolutions, until the men want them out of the +way, and then they go out of the way. That’s what we are now—just ants. +Only——” + +“Yes,” I said. + +“We’re eatable ants.” + +We sat looking at each other. + +“And what will they do with us?” I said. + +“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” he said; “that’s what I’ve been +thinking. After Weybridge I went south—thinking. I saw what was up. +Most of the people were hard at it squealing and exciting themselves. +But I’m not so fond of squealing. I’ve been in sight of death once or +twice; I’m not an ornamental soldier, and at the best and worst, +death—it’s just death. And it’s the man that keeps on thinking comes +through. I saw everyone tracking away south. Says I, ‘Food won’t last +this way,’ and I turned right back. I went for the Martians like a +sparrow goes for man. All round”—he waved a hand to the +horizon—“they’re starving in heaps, bolting, treading on each other. . +. .” + +He saw my face, and halted awkwardly. + +“No doubt lots who had money have gone away to France,” he said. He +seemed to hesitate whether to apologise, met my eyes, and went on: +“There’s food all about here. Canned things in shops; wines, spirits, +mineral waters; and the water mains and drains are empty. Well, I was +telling you what I was thinking. ‘Here’s intelligent things,’ I said, +‘and it seems they want us for food. First, they’ll smash us up—ships, +machines, guns, cities, all the order and organisation. All that will +go. If we were the size of ants we might pull through. But we’re not. +It’s all too bulky to stop. That’s the first certainty.’ Eh?” + +I assented. + +“It is; I’ve thought it out. Very well, then—next; at present we’re +caught as we’re wanted. A Martian has only to go a few miles to get a +crowd on the run. And I saw one, one day, out by Wandsworth, picking +houses to pieces and routing among the wreckage. But they won’t keep on +doing that. So soon as they’ve settled all our guns and ships, and +smashed our railways, and done all the things they are doing over +there, they will begin catching us systematic, picking the best and +storing us in cages and things. That’s what they will start doing in a +bit. Lord! They haven’t begun on us yet. Don’t you see that?” + +“Not begun!” I exclaimed. + +“Not begun. All that’s happened so far is through our not having the +sense to keep quiet—worrying them with guns and such foolery. And +losing our heads, and rushing off in crowds to where there wasn’t any +more safety than where we were. They don’t want to bother us yet. +They’re making their things—making all the things they couldn’t bring +with them, getting things ready for the rest of their people. Very +likely that’s why the cylinders have stopped for a bit, for fear of +hitting those who are here. And instead of our rushing about blind, on +the howl, or getting dynamite on the chance of busting them up, we’ve +got to fix ourselves up according to the new state of affairs. That’s +how I figure it out. It isn’t quite according to what a man wants for +his species, but it’s about what the facts point to. And that’s the +principle I acted upon. Cities, nations, civilisation, progress—it’s +all over. That game’s up. We’re beat.” + +“But if that is so, what is there to live for?” + +The artilleryman looked at me for a moment. + +“There won’t be any more blessed concerts for a million years or so; +there won’t be any Royal Academy of Arts, and no nice little feeds at +restaurants. If it’s amusement you’re after, I reckon the game is up. +If you’ve got any drawing-room manners or a dislike to eating peas with +a knife or dropping aitches, you’d better chuck ’em away. They ain’t no +further use.” + +“You mean——” + +“I mean that men like me are going on living—for the sake of the breed. +I tell you, I’m grim set on living. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll +show what insides _you’ve_ got, too, before long. We aren’t going to be +exterminated. And I don’t mean to be caught either, and tamed and +fattened and bred like a thundering ox. Ugh! Fancy those brown +creepers!” + +“You don’t mean to say——” + +“I do. I’m going on, under their feet. I’ve got it planned; I’ve +thought it out. We men are beat. We don’t know enough. We’ve got to +learn before we’ve got a chance. And we’ve got to live and keep +independent while we learn. See! That’s what has to be done.” + +I stared, astonished, and stirred profoundly by the man’s resolution. + +“Great God!” cried I. “But you are a man indeed!” And suddenly I +gripped his hand. + +“Eh!” he said, with his eyes shining. “I’ve thought it out, eh?” + +“Go on,” I said. + +“Well, those who mean to escape their catching must get ready. I’m +getting ready. Mind you, it isn’t all of us that are made for wild +beasts; and that’s what it’s got to be. That’s why I watched you. I had +my doubts. You’re slender. I didn’t know that it was you, you see, or +just how you’d been buried. All these—the sort of people that lived in +these houses, and all those damn little clerks that used to live down +_that_ way—they’d be no good. They haven’t any spirit in them—no proud +dreams and no proud lusts; and a man who hasn’t one or the other—Lord! +What is he but funk and precautions? They just used to skedaddle off to +work—I’ve seen hundreds of ’em, bit of breakfast in hand, running wild +and shining to catch their little season-ticket train, for fear they’d +get dismissed if they didn’t; working at businesses they were afraid to +take the trouble to understand; skedaddling back for fear they wouldn’t +be in time for dinner; keeping indoors after dinner for fear of the +back streets, and sleeping with the wives they married, not because +they wanted them, but because they had a bit of money that would make +for safety in their one little miserable skedaddle through the world. +Lives insured and a bit invested for fear of accidents. And on +Sundays—fear of the hereafter. As if hell was built for rabbits! Well, +the Martians will just be a godsend to these. Nice roomy cages, +fattening food, careful breeding, no worry. After a week or so chasing +about the fields and lands on empty stomachs, they’ll come and be +caught cheerful. They’ll be quite glad after a bit. They’ll wonder what +people did before there were Martians to take care of them. And the bar +loafers, and mashers, and singers—I can imagine them. I can imagine +them,” he said, with a sort of sombre gratification. “There’ll be any +amount of sentiment and religion loose among them. There’s hundreds of +things I saw with my eyes that I’ve only begun to see clearly these +last few days. There’s lots will take things as they are—fat and +stupid; and lots will be worried by a sort of feeling that it’s all +wrong, and that they ought to be doing something. Now whenever things +are so that a lot of people feel they ought to be doing something, the +weak, and those who go weak with a lot of complicated thinking, always +make for a sort of do-nothing religion, very pious and superior, and +submit to persecution and the will of the Lord. Very likely you’ve seen +the same thing. It’s energy in a gale of funk, and turned clean inside +out. These cages will be full of psalms and hymns and piety. And those +of a less simple sort will work in a bit of—what is it?—eroticism.” + +He paused. + +“Very likely these Martians will make pets of some of them; train them +to do tricks—who knows?—get sentimental over the pet boy who grew up +and had to be killed. And some, maybe, they will train to hunt us.” + +“No,” I cried, “that’s impossible! No human being——” + +“What’s the good of going on with such lies?” said the artilleryman. +“There’s men who’d do it cheerful. What nonsense to pretend there +isn’t!” + +And I succumbed to his conviction. + +“If they come after me,” he said; “Lord, if they come after me!” and +subsided into a grim meditation. + +I sat contemplating these things. I could find nothing to bring against +this man’s reasoning. In the days before the invasion no one would have +questioned my intellectual superiority to his—I, a professed and +recognised writer on philosophical themes, and he, a common soldier; +and yet he had already formulated a situation that I had scarcely +realised. + +“What are you doing?” I said presently. “What plans have you made?” + +He hesitated. + +“Well, it’s like this,” he said. “What have we to do? We have to invent +a sort of life where men can live and breed, and be sufficiently secure +to bring the children up. Yes—wait a bit, and I’ll make it clearer what +I think ought to be done. The tame ones will go like all tame beasts; +in a few generations they’ll be big, beautiful, rich-blooded, +stupid—rubbish! The risk is that we who keep wild will go +savage—degenerate into a sort of big, savage rat. . . . You see, how I +mean to live is underground. I’ve been thinking about the drains. Of +course those who don’t know drains think horrible things; but under +this London are miles and miles—hundreds of miles—and a few days rain +and London empty will leave them sweet and clean. The main drains are +big enough and airy enough for anyone. Then there’s cellars, vaults, +stores, from which bolting passages may be made to the drains. And the +railway tunnels and subways. Eh? You begin to see? And we form a +band—able-bodied, clean-minded men. We’re not going to pick up any +rubbish that drifts in. Weaklings go out again.” + +“As you meant me to go?” + +“Well—I parleyed, didn’t I?” + +“We won’t quarrel about that. Go on.” + +“Those who stop obey orders. Able-bodied, clean-minded women we want +also—mothers and teachers. No lackadaisical ladies—no blasted rolling +eyes. We can’t have any weak or silly. Life is real again, and the +useless and cumbersome and mischievous have to die. They ought to die. +They ought to be willing to die. It’s a sort of disloyalty, after all, +to live and taint the race. And they can’t be happy. Moreover, dying’s +none so dreadful; it’s the funking makes it bad. And in all those +places we shall gather. Our district will be London. And we may even be +able to keep a watch, and run about in the open when the Martians keep +away. Play cricket, perhaps. That’s how we shall save the race. Eh? +It’s a possible thing? But saving the race is nothing in itself. As I +say, that’s only being rats. It’s saving our knowledge and adding to it +is the thing. There men like you come in. There’s books, there’s +models. We must make great safe places down deep, and get all the books +we can; not novels and poetry swipes, but ideas, science books. That’s +where men like you come in. We must go to the British Museum and pick +all those books through. Especially we must keep up our science—learn +more. We must watch these Martians. Some of us must go as spies. When +it’s all working, perhaps I will. Get caught, I mean. And the great +thing is, we must leave the Martians alone. We mustn’t even steal. If +we get in their way, we clear out. We must show them we mean no harm. +Yes, I know. But they’re intelligent things, and they won’t hunt us +down if they have all they want, and think we’re just harmless vermin.” + +The artilleryman paused and laid a brown hand upon my arm. + +“After all, it may not be so much we may have to learn before—Just +imagine this: four or five of their fighting machines suddenly starting +off—Heat-Rays right and left, and not a Martian in ’em. Not a Martian +in ’em, but men—men who have learned the way how. It may be in my time, +even—those men. Fancy having one of them lovely things, with its +Heat-Ray wide and free! Fancy having it in control! What would it +matter if you smashed to smithereens at the end of the run, after a +bust like that? I reckon the Martians’ll open their beautiful eyes! +Can’t you see them, man? Can’t you see them hurrying, hurrying—puffing +and blowing and hooting to their other mechanical affairs? Something +out of gear in every case. And swish, bang, rattle, swish! Just as they +are fumbling over it, _swish_ comes the Heat-Ray, and, behold! man has +come back to his own.” + +For a while the imaginative daring of the artilleryman, and the tone of +assurance and courage he assumed, completely dominated my mind. I +believed unhesitatingly both in his forecast of human destiny and in +the practicability of his astonishing scheme, and the reader who thinks +me susceptible and foolish must contrast his position, reading steadily +with all his thoughts about his subject, and mine, crouching fearfully +in the bushes and listening, distracted by apprehension. We talked in +this manner through the early morning time, and later crept out of the +bushes, and, after scanning the sky for Martians, hurried precipitately +to the house on Putney Hill where he had made his lair. It was the coal +cellar of the place, and when I saw the work he had spent a week +upon—it was a burrow scarcely ten yards long, which he designed to +reach to the main drain on Putney Hill—I had my first inkling of the +gulf between his dreams and his powers. Such a hole I could have dug in +a day. But I believed in him sufficiently to work with him all that +morning until past midday at his digging. We had a garden barrow and +shot the earth we removed against the kitchen range. We refreshed +ourselves with a tin of mock-turtle soup and wine from the neighbouring +pantry. I found a curious relief from the aching strangeness of the +world in this steady labour. As we worked, I turned his project over in +my mind, and presently objections and doubts began to arise; but I +worked there all the morning, so glad was I to find myself with a +purpose again. After working an hour I began to speculate on the +distance one had to go before the cloaca was reached, the chances we +had of missing it altogether. My immediate trouble was why we should +dig this long tunnel, when it was possible to get into the drain at +once down one of the manholes, and work back to the house. It seemed to +me, too, that the house was inconveniently chosen, and required a +needless length of tunnel. And just as I was beginning to face these +things, the artilleryman stopped digging, and looked at me. + +“We’re working well,” he said. He put down his spade. “Let us knock off +a bit” he said. “I think it’s time we reconnoitred from the roof of the +house.” + +I was for going on, and after a little hesitation he resumed his spade; +and then suddenly I was struck by a thought. I stopped, and so did he +at once. + +“Why were you walking about the common,” I said, “instead of being +here?” + +“Taking the air,” he said. “I was coming back. It’s safer by night.” + +“But the work?” + +“Oh, one can’t always work,” he said, and in a flash I saw the man +plain. He hesitated, holding his spade. “We ought to reconnoitre now,” +he said, “because if any come near they may hear the spades and drop +upon us unawares.” + +I was no longer disposed to object. We went together to the roof and +stood on a ladder peeping out of the roof door. No Martians were to be +seen, and we ventured out on the tiles, and slipped down under shelter +of the parapet. + +From this position a shrubbery hid the greater portion of Putney, but +we could see the river below, a bubbly mass of red weed, and the low +parts of Lambeth flooded and red. The red creeper swarmed up the trees +about the old palace, and their branches stretched gaunt and dead, and +set with shrivelled leaves, from amid its clusters. It was strange how +entirely dependent both these things were upon flowing water for their +propagation. About us neither had gained a footing; laburnums, pink +mays, snowballs, and trees of arbor-vitae, rose out of laurels and +hydrangeas, green and brilliant into the sunlight. Beyond Kensington +dense smoke was rising, and that and a blue haze hid the northward +hills. + +The artilleryman began to tell me of the sort of people who still +remained in London. + +“One night last week,” he said, “some fools got the electric light in +order, and there was all Regent Street and the Circus ablaze, crowded +with painted and ragged drunkards, men and women, dancing and shouting +till dawn. A man who was there told me. And as the day came they became +aware of a fighting-machine standing near by the Langham and looking +down at them. Heaven knows how long he had been there. It must have +given some of them a nasty turn. He came down the road towards them, +and picked up nearly a hundred too drunk or frightened to run away.” + +Grotesque gleam of a time no history will ever fully describe! + +From that, in answer to my questions, he came round to his grandiose +plans again. He grew enthusiastic. He talked so eloquently of the +possibility of capturing a fighting-machine that I more than half +believed in him again. But now that I was beginning to understand +something of his quality, I could divine the stress he laid on doing +nothing precipitately. And I noted that now there was no question that +he personally was to capture and fight the great machine. + +After a time we went down to the cellar. Neither of us seemed disposed +to resume digging, and when he suggested a meal, I was nothing loath. +He became suddenly very generous, and when we had eaten he went away +and returned with some excellent cigars. We lit these, and his optimism +glowed. He was inclined to regard my coming as a great occasion. + +“There’s some champagne in the cellar,” he said. + +“We can dig better on this Thames-side burgundy,” said I. + +“No,” said he; “I am host today. Champagne! Great God! We’ve a heavy +enough task before us! Let us take a rest and gather strength while we +may. Look at these blistered hands!” + +And pursuant to this idea of a holiday, he insisted upon playing cards +after we had eaten. He taught me euchre, and after dividing London +between us, I taking the northern side and he the southern, we played +for parish points. Grotesque and foolish as this will seem to the sober +reader, it is absolutely true, and what is more remarkable, I found the +card game and several others we played extremely interesting. + +Strange mind of man! that, with our species upon the edge of +extermination or appalling degradation, with no clear prospect before +us but the chance of a horrible death, we could sit following the +chance of this painted pasteboard, and playing the “joker” with vivid +delight. Afterwards he taught me poker, and I beat him at three tough +chess games. When dark came we decided to take the risk, and lit a +lamp. + +After an interminable string of games, we supped, and the artilleryman +finished the champagne. We went on smoking the cigars. He was no longer +the energetic regenerator of his species I had encountered in the +morning. He was still optimistic, but it was a less kinetic, a more +thoughtful optimism. I remember he wound up with my health, proposed in +a speech of small variety and considerable intermittence. I took a +cigar, and went upstairs to look at the lights of which he had spoken +that blazed so greenly along the Highgate hills. + +At first I stared unintelligently across the London valley. The +northern hills were shrouded in darkness; the fires near Kensington +glowed redly, and now and then an orange-red tongue of flame flashed up +and vanished in the deep blue night. All the rest of London was black. +Then, nearer, I perceived a strange light, a pale, violet-purple +fluorescent glow, quivering under the night breeze. For a space I could +not understand it, and then I knew that it must be the red weed from +which this faint irradiation proceeded. With that realisation my +dormant sense of wonder, my sense of the proportion of things, awoke +again. I glanced from that to Mars, red and clear, glowing high in the +west, and then gazed long and earnestly at the darkness of Hampstead +and Highgate. + +I remained a very long time upon the roof, wondering at the grotesque +changes of the day. I recalled my mental states from the midnight +prayer to the foolish card-playing. I had a violent revulsion of +feeling. I remember I flung away the cigar with a certain wasteful +symbolism. My folly came to me with glaring exaggeration. I seemed a +traitor to my wife and to my kind; I was filled with remorse. I +resolved to leave this strange undisciplined dreamer of great things to +his drink and gluttony, and to go on into London. There, it seemed to +me, I had the best chance of learning what the Martians and my +fellowmen were doing. I was still upon the roof when the late moon +rose. + + + + +VIII. +DEAD LONDON. + + +After I had parted from the artilleryman, I went down the hill, and by +the High Street across the bridge to Fulham. The red weed was +tumultuous at that time, and nearly choked the bridge roadway; but its +fronds were already whitened in patches by the spreading disease that +presently removed it so swiftly. + +At the corner of the lane that runs to Putney Bridge station I found a +man lying. He was as black as a sweep with the black dust, alive, but +helplessly and speechlessly drunk. I could get nothing from him but +curses and furious lunges at my head. I think I should have stayed by +him but for the brutal expression of his face. + +There was black dust along the roadway from the bridge onwards, and it +grew thicker in Fulham. The streets were horribly quiet. I got +food—sour, hard, and mouldy, but quite eatable—in a baker’s shop here. +Some way towards Walham Green the streets became clear of powder, and I +passed a white terrace of houses on fire; the noise of the burning was +an absolute relief. Going on towards Brompton, the streets were quiet +again. + +Here I came once more upon the black powder in the streets and upon +dead bodies. I saw altogether about a dozen in the length of the Fulham +Road. They had been dead many days, so that I hurried quickly past +them. The black powder covered them over, and softened their outlines. +One or two had been disturbed by dogs. + +Where there was no black powder, it was curiously like a Sunday in the +City, with the closed shops, the houses locked up and the blinds drawn, +the desertion, and the stillness. In some places plunderers had been at +work, but rarely at other than the provision and wine shops. A +jeweller’s window had been broken open in one place, but apparently the +thief had been disturbed, and a number of gold chains and a watch lay +scattered on the pavement. I did not trouble to touch them. Farther on +was a tattered woman in a heap on a doorstep; the hand that hung over +her knee was gashed and bled down her rusty brown dress, and a smashed +magnum of champagne formed a pool across the pavement. She seemed +asleep, but she was dead. + +The farther I penetrated into London, the profounder grew the +stillness. But it was not so much the stillness of death—it was the +stillness of suspense, of expectation. At any time the destruction that +had already singed the northwestern borders of the metropolis, and had +annihilated Ealing and Kilburn, might strike among these houses and +leave them smoking ruins. It was a city condemned and derelict. . . . + +In South Kensington the streets were clear of dead and of black powder. +It was near South Kensington that I first heard the howling. It crept +almost imperceptibly upon my senses. It was a sobbing alternation of +two notes, “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” keeping on perpetually. When I +passed streets that ran northward it grew in volume, and houses and +buildings seemed to deaden and cut it off again. It came in a full tide +down Exhibition Road. I stopped, staring towards Kensington Gardens, +wondering at this strange, remote wailing. It was as if that mighty +desert of houses had found a voice for its fear and solitude. + +“Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” wailed that superhuman note—great waves of +sound sweeping down the broad, sunlit roadway, between the tall +buildings on each side. I turned northwards, marvelling, towards the +iron gates of Hyde Park. I had half a mind to break into the Natural +History Museum and find my way up to the summits of the towers, in +order to see across the park. But I decided to keep to the ground, +where quick hiding was possible, and so went on up the Exhibition Road. +All the large mansions on each side of the road were empty and still, +and my footsteps echoed against the sides of the houses. At the top, +near the park gate, I came upon a strange sight—a bus overturned, and +the skeleton of a horse picked clean. I puzzled over this for a time, +and then went on to the bridge over the Serpentine. The voice grew +stronger and stronger, though I could see nothing above the housetops +on the north side of the park, save a haze of smoke to the northwest. + +“Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” cried the voice, coming, as it seemed to me, +from the district about Regent’s Park. The desolating cry worked upon +my mind. The mood that had sustained me passed. The wailing took +possession of me. I found I was intensely weary, footsore, and now +again hungry and thirsty. + +It was already past noon. Why was I wandering alone in this city of the +dead? Why was I alone when all London was lying in state, and in its +black shroud? I felt intolerably lonely. My mind ran on old friends +that I had forgotten for years. I thought of the poisons in the +chemists’ shops, of the liquors the wine merchants stored; I recalled +the two sodden creatures of despair, who so far as I knew, shared the +city with myself. . . . + +I came into Oxford Street by the Marble Arch, and here again were black +powder and several bodies, and an evil, ominous smell from the gratings +of the cellars of some of the houses. I grew very thirsty after the +heat of my long walk. With infinite trouble I managed to break into a +public-house and get food and drink. I was weary after eating, and went +into the parlour behind the bar, and slept on a black horsehair sofa I +found there. + +I awoke to find that dismal howling still in my ears, “Ulla, ulla, +ulla, ulla.” It was now dusk, and after I had routed out some biscuits +and a cheese in the bar—there was a meat safe, but it contained nothing +but maggots—I wandered on through the silent residential squares to +Baker Street—Portman Square is the only one I can name—and so came out +at last upon Regent’s Park. And as I emerged from the top of Baker +Street, I saw far away over the trees in the clearness of the sunset +the hood of the Martian giant from which this howling proceeded. I was +not terrified. I came upon him as if it were a matter of course. I +watched him for some time, but he did not move. He appeared to be +standing and yelling, for no reason that I could discover. + +I tried to formulate a plan of action. That perpetual sound of “Ulla, +ulla, ulla, ulla,” confused my mind. Perhaps I was too tired to be very +fearful. Certainly I was more curious to know the reason of this +monotonous crying than afraid. I turned back away from the park and +struck into Park Road, intending to skirt the park, went along under +the shelter of the terraces, and got a view of this stationary, howling +Martian from the direction of St. John’s Wood. A couple of hundred +yards out of Baker Street I heard a yelping chorus, and saw, first a +dog with a piece of putrescent red meat in his jaws coming headlong +towards me, and then a pack of starving mongrels in pursuit of him. He +made a wide curve to avoid me, as though he feared I might prove a +fresh competitor. As the yelping died away down the silent road, the +wailing sound of “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” reasserted itself. + +I came upon the wrecked handling-machine halfway to St. John’s Wood +station. At first I thought a house had fallen across the road. It was +only as I clambered among the ruins that I saw, with a start, this +mechanical Samson lying, with its tentacles bent and smashed and +twisted, among the ruins it had made. The forepart was shattered. It +seemed as if it had driven blindly straight at the house, and had been +overwhelmed in its overthrow. It seemed to me then that this might have +happened by a handling-machine escaping from the guidance of its +Martian. I could not clamber among the ruins to see it, and the +twilight was now so far advanced that the blood with which its seat was +smeared, and the gnawed gristle of the Martian that the dogs had left, +were invisible to me. + +Wondering still more at all that I had seen, I pushed on towards +Primrose Hill. Far away, through a gap in the trees, I saw a second +Martian, as motionless as the first, standing in the park towards the +Zoological Gardens, and silent. A little beyond the ruins about the +smashed handling-machine I came upon the red weed again, and found the +Regent’s Canal, a spongy mass of dark-red vegetation. + +As I crossed the bridge, the sound of “Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,” ceased. +It was, as it were, cut off. The silence came like a thunderclap. + +The dusky houses about me stood faint and tall and dim; the trees +towards the park were growing black. All about me the red weed +clambered among the ruins, writhing to get above me in the dimness. +Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me. But while +that voice sounded the solitude, the desolation, had been endurable; by +virtue of it London had still seemed alive, and the sense of life about +me had upheld me. Then suddenly a change, the passing of something—I +knew not what—and then a stillness that could be felt. Nothing but this +gaunt quiet. + +London about me gazed at me spectrally. The windows in the white houses +were like the eye sockets of skulls. About me my imagination found a +thousand noiseless enemies moving. Terror seized me, a horror of my +temerity. In front of me the road became pitchy black as though it was +tarred, and I saw a contorted shape lying across the pathway. I could +not bring myself to go on. I turned down St. John’s Wood Road, and ran +headlong from this unendurable stillness towards Kilburn. I hid from +the night and the silence, until long after midnight, in a cabmen’s +shelter in Harrow Road. But before the dawn my courage returned, and +while the stars were still in the sky I turned once more towards +Regent’s Park. I missed my way among the streets, and presently saw +down a long avenue, in the half-light of the early dawn, the curve of +Primrose Hill. On the summit, towering up to the fading stars, was a +third Martian, erect and motionless like the others. + +An insane resolve possessed me. I would die and end it. And I would +save myself even the trouble of killing myself. I marched on recklessly +towards this Titan, and then, as I drew nearer and the light grew, I +saw that a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about +the hood. At that my heart gave a bound, and I began running along the +road. + +I hurried through the red weed that choked St. Edmund’s Terrace (I +waded breast-high across a torrent of water that was rushing down from +the waterworks towards the Albert Road), and emerged upon the grass +before the rising of the sun. Great mounds had been heaped about the +crest of the hill, making a huge redoubt of it—it was the final and +largest place the Martians had made—and from behind these heaps there +rose a thin smoke against the sky. Against the sky line an eager dog +ran and disappeared. The thought that had flashed into my mind grew +real, grew credible. I felt no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation, +as I ran up the hill towards the motionless monster. Out of the hood +hung lank shreds of brown, at which the hungry birds pecked and tore. + +In another moment I had scrambled up the earthen rampart and stood upon +its crest, and the interior of the redoubt was below me. A mighty space +it was, with gigantic machines here and there within it, huge mounds of +material and strange shelter places. And scattered about it, some in +their overturned war-machines, some in the now rigid handling-machines, +and a dozen of them stark and silent and laid in a row, were the +Martians—_dead_!—slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against +which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being +slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest +things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth. + +For so it had come about, as indeed I and many men might have foreseen +had not terror and disaster blinded our minds. These germs of disease +have taken toll of humanity since the beginning of things—taken toll of +our prehuman ancestors since life began here. But by virtue of this +natural selection of our kind we have developed resisting power; to no +germs do we succumb without a struggle, and to many—those that cause +putrefaction in dead matter, for instance—our living frames are +altogether immune. But there are no bacteria in Mars, and directly +these invaders arrived, directly they drank and fed, our microscopic +allies began to work their overthrow. Already when I watched them they +were irrevocably doomed, dying and rotting even as they went to and +fro. It was inevitable. By the toll of a billion deaths man has bought +his birthright of the earth, and it is his against all comers; it would +still be his were the Martians ten times as mighty as they are. For +neither do men live nor die in vain. + +Here and there they were scattered, nearly fifty altogether, in that +great gulf they had made, overtaken by a death that must have seemed to +them as incomprehensible as any death could be. To me also at that time +this death was incomprehensible. All I knew was that these things that +had been alive and so terrible to men were dead. For a moment I +believed that the destruction of Sennacherib had been repeated, that +God had repented, that the Angel of Death had slain them in the night. + +I stood staring into the pit, and my heart lightened gloriously, even +as the rising sun struck the world to fire about me with his rays. The +pit was still in darkness; the mighty engines, so great and wonderful +in their power and complexity, so unearthly in their tortuous forms, +rose weird and vague and strange out of the shadows towards the light. +A multitude of dogs, I could hear, fought over the bodies that lay +darkly in the depth of the pit, far below me. Across the pit on its +farther lip, flat and vast and strange, lay the great flying-machine +with which they had been experimenting upon our denser atmosphere when +decay and death arrested them. Death had come not a day too soon. At +the sound of a cawing overhead I looked up at the huge fighting-machine +that would fight no more for ever, at the tattered red shreds of flesh +that dripped down upon the overturned seats on the summit of Primrose +Hill. + +I turned and looked down the slope of the hill to where, enhaloed now +in birds, stood those other two Martians that I had seen overnight, +just as death had overtaken them. The one had died, even as it had been +crying to its companions; perhaps it was the last to die, and its voice +had gone on perpetually until the force of its machinery was exhausted. +They glittered now, harmless tripod towers of shining metal, in the +brightness of the rising sun. + +All about the pit, and saved as by a miracle from everlasting +destruction, stretched the great Mother of Cities. Those who have only +seen London veiled in her sombre robes of smoke can scarcely imagine +the naked clearness and beauty of the silent wilderness of houses. + +Eastward, over the blackened ruins of the Albert Terrace and the +splintered spire of the church, the sun blazed dazzling in a clear sky, +and here and there some facet in the great wilderness of roofs caught +the light and glared with a white intensity. + +Northward were Kilburn and Hampsted, blue and crowded with houses; +westward the great city was dimmed; and southward, beyond the Martians, +the green waves of Regent’s Park, the Langham Hotel, the dome of the +Albert Hall, the Imperial Institute, and the giant mansions of the +Brompton Road came out clear and little in the sunrise, the jagged +ruins of Westminster rising hazily beyond. Far away and blue were the +Surrey hills, and the towers of the Crystal Palace glittered like two +silver rods. The dome of St. Paul’s was dark against the sunrise, and +injured, I saw for the first time, by a huge gaping cavity on its +western side. + +And as I looked at this wide expanse of houses and factories and +churches, silent and abandoned; as I thought of the multitudinous hopes +and efforts, the innumerable hosts of lives that had gone to build this +human reef, and of the swift and ruthless destruction that had hung +over it all; when I realised that the shadow had been rolled back, and +that men might still live in the streets, and this dear vast dead city +of mine be once more alive and powerful, I felt a wave of emotion that +was near akin to tears. + +The torment was over. Even that day the healing would begin. The +survivors of the people scattered over the country—leaderless, lawless, +foodless, like sheep without a shepherd—the thousands who had fled by +sea, would begin to return; the pulse of life, growing stronger and +stronger, would beat again in the empty streets and pour across the +vacant squares. Whatever destruction was done, the hand of the +destroyer was stayed. All the gaunt wrecks, the blackened skeletons of +houses that stared so dismally at the sunlit grass of the hill, would +presently be echoing with the hammers of the restorers and ringing with +the tapping of their trowels. At the thought I extended my hands +towards the sky and began thanking God. In a year, thought I—in a year. +. . . + +With overwhelming force came the thought of myself, of my wife, and the +old life of hope and tender helpfulness that had ceased for ever. + + + + +IX. +WRECKAGE. + + +And now comes the strangest thing in my story. Yet, perhaps, it is not +altogether strange. I remember, clearly and coldly and vividly, all +that I did that day until the time that I stood weeping and praising +God upon the summit of Primrose Hill. And then I forget. + +Of the next three days I know nothing. I have learned since that, so +far from my being the first discoverer of the Martian overthrow, +several such wanderers as myself had already discovered this on the +previous night. One man—the first—had gone to St. Martin’s-le-Grand, +and, while I sheltered in the cabmen’s hut, had contrived to telegraph +to Paris. Thence the joyful news had flashed all over the world; a +thousand cities, chilled by ghastly apprehensions, suddenly flashed +into frantic illuminations; they knew of it in Dublin, Edinburgh, +Manchester, Birmingham, at the time when I stood upon the verge of the +pit. Already men, weeping with joy, as I have heard, shouting and +staying their work to shake hands and shout, were making up trains, +even as near as Crewe, to descend upon London. The church bells that +had ceased a fortnight since suddenly caught the news, until all +England was bell-ringing. Men on cycles, lean-faced, unkempt, scorched +along every country lane shouting of unhoped deliverance, shouting to +gaunt, staring figures of despair. And for the food! Across the +Channel, across the Irish Sea, across the Atlantic, corn, bread, and +meat were tearing to our relief. All the shipping in the world seemed +going Londonward in those days. But of all this I have no memory. I +drifted—a demented man. I found myself in a house of kindly people, who +had found me on the third day wandering, weeping, and raving through +the streets of St. John’s Wood. They have told me since that I was +singing some insane doggerel about “The Last Man Left Alive! Hurrah! +The Last Man Left Alive!” Troubled as they were with their own affairs, +these people, whose name, much as I would like to express my gratitude +to them, I may not even give here, nevertheless cumbered themselves +with me, sheltered me, and protected me from myself. Apparently they +had learned something of my story from me during the days of my lapse. + +Very gently, when my mind was assured again, did they break to me what +they had learned of the fate of Leatherhead. Two days after I was +imprisoned it had been destroyed, with every soul in it, by a Martian. +He had swept it out of existence, as it seemed, without any +provocation, as a boy might crush an ant hill, in the mere wantonness +of power. + +I was a lonely man, and they were very kind to me. I was a lonely man +and a sad one, and they bore with me. I remained with them four days +after my recovery. All that time I felt a vague, a growing craving to +look once more on whatever remained of the little life that seemed so +happy and bright in my past. It was a mere hopeless desire to feast +upon my misery. They dissuaded me. They did all they could to divert me +from this morbidity. But at last I could resist the impulse no longer, +and, promising faithfully to return to them, and parting, as I will +confess, from these four-day friends with tears, I went out again into +the streets that had lately been so dark and strange and empty. + +Already they were busy with returning people; in places even there were +shops open, and I saw a drinking fountain running water. + +I remember how mockingly bright the day seemed as I went back on my +melancholy pilgrimage to the little house at Woking, how busy the +streets and vivid the moving life about me. So many people were abroad +everywhere, busied in a thousand activities, that it seemed incredible +that any great proportion of the population could have been slain. But +then I noticed how yellow were the skins of the people I met, how +shaggy the hair of the men, how large and bright their eyes, and that +every other man still wore his dirty rags. Their faces seemed all with +one of two expressions—a leaping exultation and energy or a grim +resolution. Save for the expression of the faces, London seemed a city +of tramps. The vestries were indiscriminately distributing bread sent +us by the French government. The ribs of the few horses showed +dismally. Haggard special constables with white badges stood at the +corners of every street. I saw little of the mischief wrought by the +Martians until I reached Wellington Street, and there I saw the red +weed clambering over the buttresses of Waterloo Bridge. + +At the corner of the bridge, too, I saw one of the common contrasts of +that grotesque time—a sheet of paper flaunting against a thicket of the +red weed, transfixed by a stick that kept it in place. It was the +placard of the first newspaper to resume publication—the _Daily Mail_. +I bought a copy for a blackened shilling I found in my pocket. Most of +it was in blank, but the solitary compositor who did the thing had +amused himself by making a grotesque scheme of advertisement stereo on +the back page. The matter he printed was emotional; the news +organisation had not as yet found its way back. I learned nothing fresh +except that already in one week the examination of the Martian +mechanisms had yielded astonishing results. Among other things, the +article assured me what I did not believe at the time, that the “Secret +of Flying,” was discovered. At Waterloo I found the free trains that +were taking people to their homes. The first rush was already over. +There were few people in the train, and I was in no mood for casual +conversation. I got a compartment to myself, and sat with folded arms, +looking greyly at the sunlit devastation that flowed past the windows. +And just outside the terminus the train jolted over temporary rails, +and on either side of the railway the houses were blackened ruins. To +Clapham Junction the face of London was grimy with powder of the Black +Smoke, in spite of two days of thunderstorms and rain, and at Clapham +Junction the line had been wrecked again; there were hundreds of +out-of-work clerks and shopmen working side by side with the customary +navvies, and we were jolted over a hasty relaying. + +All down the line from there the aspect of the country was gaunt and +unfamiliar; Wimbledon particularly had suffered. Walton, by virtue of +its unburned pine woods, seemed the least hurt of any place along the +line. The Wandle, the Mole, every little stream, was a heaped mass of +red weed, in appearance between butcher’s meat and pickled cabbage. The +Surrey pine woods were too dry, however, for the festoons of the red +climber. Beyond Wimbledon, within sight of the line, in certain nursery +grounds, were the heaped masses of earth about the sixth cylinder. A +number of people were standing about it, and some sappers were busy in +the midst of it. Over it flaunted a Union Jack, flapping cheerfully in +the morning breeze. The nursery grounds were everywhere crimson with +the weed, a wide expanse of livid colour cut with purple shadows, and +very painful to the eye. One’s gaze went with infinite relief from the +scorched greys and sullen reds of the foreground to the blue-green +softness of the eastward hills. + +The line on the London side of Woking station was still undergoing +repair, so I descended at Byfleet station and took the road to Maybury, +past the place where I and the artilleryman had talked to the hussars, +and on by the spot where the Martian had appeared to me in the +thunderstorm. Here, moved by curiosity, I turned aside to find, among a +tangle of red fronds, the warped and broken dog cart with the whitened +bones of the horse scattered and gnawed. For a time I stood regarding +these vestiges. . . . + +Then I returned through the pine wood, neck-high with red weed here and +there, to find the landlord of the Spotted Dog had already found +burial, and so came home past the College Arms. A man standing at an +open cottage door greeted me by name as I passed. + +I looked at my house with a quick flash of hope that faded immediately. +The door had been forced; it was unfast and was opening slowly as I +approached. + +It slammed again. The curtains of my study fluttered out of the open +window from which I and the artilleryman had watched the dawn. No one +had closed it since. The smashed bushes were just as I had left them +nearly four weeks ago. I stumbled into the hall, and the house felt +empty. The stair carpet was ruffled and discoloured where I had +crouched, soaked to the skin from the thunderstorm the night of the +catastrophe. Our muddy footsteps I saw still went up the stairs. + +I followed them to my study, and found lying on my writing-table still, +with the selenite paper weight upon it, the sheet of work I had left on +the afternoon of the opening of the cylinder. For a space I stood +reading over my abandoned arguments. It was a paper on the probable +development of Moral Ideas with the development of the civilising +process; and the last sentence was the opening of a prophecy: “In about +two hundred years,” I had written, “we may expect——” The sentence ended +abruptly. I remembered my inability to fix my mind that morning, +scarcely a month gone by, and how I had broken off to get my _Daily +Chronicle_ from the newsboy. I remembered how I went down to the garden +gate as he came along, and how I had listened to his odd story of “Men +from Mars.” + +I came down and went into the dining room. There were the mutton and +the bread, both far gone now in decay, and a beer bottle overturned, +just as I and the artilleryman had left them. My home was desolate. I +perceived the folly of the faint hope I had cherished so long. And then +a strange thing occurred. “It is no use,” said a voice. “The house is +deserted. No one has been here these ten days. Do not stay here to +torment yourself. No one escaped but you.” + +I was startled. Had I spoken my thought aloud? I turned, and the French +window was open behind me. I made a step to it, and stood looking out. + +And there, amazed and afraid, even as I stood amazed and afraid, were +my cousin and my wife—my wife white and tearless. She gave a faint cry. + +“I came,” she said. “I knew—knew——” + +She put her hand to her throat—swayed. I made a step forward, and +caught her in my arms. + + + + +X. +THE EPILOGUE. + + +I cannot but regret, now that I am concluding my story, how little I am +able to contribute to the discussion of the many debatable questions +which are still unsettled. In one respect I shall certainly provoke +criticism. My particular province is speculative philosophy. My +knowledge of comparative physiology is confined to a book or two, but +it seems to me that Carver’s suggestions as to the reason of the rapid +death of the Martians is so probable as to be regarded almost as a +proven conclusion. I have assumed that in the body of my narrative. + +At any rate, in all the bodies of the Martians that were examined after +the war, no bacteria except those already known as terrestrial species +were found. That they did not bury any of their dead, and the reckless +slaughter they perpetrated, point also to an entire ignorance of the +putrefactive process. But probable as this seems, it is by no means a +proven conclusion. + +Neither is the composition of the Black Smoke known, which the Martians +used with such deadly effect, and the generator of the Heat-Rays +remains a puzzle. The terrible disasters at the Ealing and South +Kensington laboratories have disinclined analysts for further +investigations upon the latter. Spectrum analysis of the black powder +points unmistakably to the presence of an unknown element with a +brilliant group of three lines in the green, and it is possible that it +combines with argon to form a compound which acts at once with deadly +effect upon some constituent in the blood. But such unproven +speculations will scarcely be of interest to the general reader, to +whom this story is addressed. None of the brown scum that drifted down +the Thames after the destruction of Shepperton was examined at the +time, and now none is forthcoming. + +The results of an anatomical examination of the Martians, so far as the +prowling dogs had left such an examination possible, I have already +given. But everyone is familiar with the magnificent and almost +complete specimen in spirits at the Natural History Museum, and the +countless drawings that have been made from it; and beyond that the +interest of their physiology and structure is purely scientific. + +A question of graver and universal interest is the possibility of +another attack from the Martians. I do not think that nearly enough +attention is being given to this aspect of the matter. At present the +planet Mars is in conjunction, but with every return to opposition I, +for one, anticipate a renewal of their adventure. In any case, we +should be prepared. It seems to me that it should be possible to define +the position of the gun from which the shots are discharged, to keep a +sustained watch upon this part of the planet, and to anticipate the +arrival of the next attack. + +In that case the cylinder might be destroyed with dynamite or artillery +before it was sufficiently cool for the Martians to emerge, or they +might be butchered by means of guns so soon as the screw opened. It +seems to me that they have lost a vast advantage in the failure of +their first surprise. Possibly they see it in the same light. + +Lessing has advanced excellent reasons for supposing that the Martians +have actually succeeded in effecting a landing on the planet Venus. +Seven months ago now, Venus and Mars were in alignment with the sun; +that is to say, Mars was in opposition from the point of view of an +observer on Venus. Subsequently a peculiar luminous and sinuous marking +appeared on the unillumined half of the inner planet, and almost +simultaneously a faint dark mark of a similar sinuous character was +detected upon a photograph of the Martian disk. One needs to see the +drawings of these appearances in order to appreciate fully their +remarkable resemblance in character. + +At any rate, whether we expect another invasion or not, our views of +the human future must be greatly modified by these events. We have +learned now that we cannot regard this planet as being fenced in and a +secure abiding place for Man; we can never anticipate the unseen good +or evil that may come upon us suddenly out of space. It may be that in +the larger design of the universe this invasion from Mars is not +without its ultimate benefit for men; it has robbed us of that serene +confidence in the future which is the most fruitful source of +decadence, the gifts to human science it has brought are enormous, and +it has done much to promote the conception of the commonweal of +mankind. It may be that across the immensity of space the Martians have +watched the fate of these pioneers of theirs and learned their lesson, +and that on the planet Venus they have found a securer settlement. Be +that as it may, for many years yet there will certainly be no +relaxation of the eager scrutiny of the Martian disk, and those fiery +darts of the sky, the shooting stars, will bring with them as they fall +an unavoidable apprehension to all the sons of men. + +The broadening of men’s views that has resulted can scarcely be +exaggerated. Before the cylinder fell there was a general persuasion +that through all the deep of space no life existed beyond the petty +surface of our minute sphere. Now we see further. If the Martians can +reach Venus, there is no reason to suppose that the thing is impossible +for men, and when the slow cooling of the sun makes this earth +uninhabitable, as at last it must do, it may be that the thread of life +that has begun here will have streamed out and caught our sister planet +within its toils. + +Dim and wonderful is the vision I have conjured up in my mind of life +spreading slowly from this little seed bed of the solar system +throughout the inanimate vastness of sidereal space. But that is a +remote dream. It may be, on the other hand, that the destruction of the +Martians is only a reprieve. To them, and not to us, perhaps, is the +future ordained. + +I must confess the stress and danger of the time have left an abiding +sense of doubt and insecurity in my mind. I sit in my study writing by +lamplight, and suddenly I see again the healing valley below set with +writhing flames, and feel the house behind and about me empty and +desolate. I go out into the Byfleet Road, and vehicles pass me, a +butcher boy in a cart, a cabful of visitors, a workman on a bicycle, +children going to school, and suddenly they become vague and unreal, +and I hurry again with the artilleryman through the hot, brooding +silence. Of a night I see the black powder darkening the silent +streets, and the contorted bodies shrouded in that layer; they rise +upon me tattered and dog-bitten. They gibber and grow fiercer, paler, +uglier, mad distortions of humanity at last, and I wake, cold and +wretched, in the darkness of the night. + +I go to London and see the busy multitudes in Fleet Street and the +Strand, and it comes across my mind that they are but the ghosts of the +past, haunting the streets that I have seen silent and wretched, going +to and fro, phantasms in a dead city, the mockery of life in a +galvanised body. And strange, too, it is to stand on Primrose Hill, as +I did but a day before writing this last chapter, to see the great +province of houses, dim and blue through the haze of the smoke and +mist, vanishing at last into the vague lower sky, to see the people +walking to and fro among the flower beds on the hill, to see the +sight-seers about the Martian machine that stands there still, to hear +the tumult of playing children, and to recall the time when I saw it +all bright and clear-cut, hard and silent, under the dawn of that last +great day. . . . + +And strangest of all is it to hold my wife’s hand again, and to think +that I have counted her, and that she has counted me, among the dead. diff --git a/search-engine/books/Treasure Island.txt b/search-engine/books/Treasure Island.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..910576c --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Treasure Island.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7494 @@ +Title: Treasure Island +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +TREASURE ISLAND + +by Robert Louis Stevenson + + + + +TREASURE ISLAND + +To S.L.O., an American gentleman in accordance with whose classic taste +the following narrative has been designed, it is now, in return for +numerous delightful hours, and with the kindest wishes, dedicated by his +affectionate friend, the author. + + + + TO THE HESITATING PURCHASER + + If sailor tales to sailor tunes, + Storm and adventure, heat and cold, + If schooners, islands, and maroons, + And buccaneers, and buried gold, + And all the old romance, retold + Exactly in the ancient way, + Can please, as me they pleased of old, + The wiser youngsters of today: + + --So be it, and fall on! If not, + If studious youth no longer crave, + His ancient appetites forgot, + Kingston, or Ballantyne the brave, + Or Cooper of the wood and wave: + So be it, also! And may I + And all my pirates share the grave + Where these and their creations lie! + + + CONTENTS + + PART ONE + The Old Buccaneer + + 1. THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW 11 + 2. BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS . . . . 17 + 3. THE BLACK SPOT . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 + 4. THE SEA-CHEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 + 5. THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN . . . . . . . 36 + 6. THE CAPTAIN’S PAPERS . . . . . . . . . . 41 + + PART TWO + The Sea Cook + + 7. I GO TO BRISTOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 + 8. AT THE SIGN OF THE SPY-GLASS . . . . . . . 54 + 9. POWDER AND ARMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 + 10. THE VOYAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 + 11. WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL . . . . 70 + 12. COUNCIL OF WAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 + + PART THREE + My Shore Adventure + + 13. HOW MY SHORE ADVENTURE BEGAN . . . . . . 82 + 14. THE FIRST BLOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 + 15. THE MAN OF THE ISLAND. . . . . . . . . . 93 + + PART FOUR + The Stockade + + 16. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED . . . . . . 100 + 17. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + THE JOLLY-BOAT’S LAST TRIP . . . . . . 105 + 18. NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR: + END OF THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHTING . . . 109 + 19. NARRATIVE RESUMED BY JIM HAWKINS: + THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE . . . . . 114 + 20. SILVER’S EMBASSY . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 + 21. THE ATTACK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 + + PART FIVE + My Sea Adventure + + 22. HOW MY SEA ADVENTURE BEGAN . . . . . . . 132 + 23. THE EBB-TIDE RUNS . . . . . . . . . . . 138 + 24. THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE . . . . . . . 143 + 25. I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER . . . . . . . . 148 + 26. ISRAEL HANDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + 27. “PIECES OF EIGHT” . . . . . . . . . . . 161 + + PART SIX + Captain Silver + + 28. IN THE ENEMY’S CAMP . . . . . . . . . . 168 + 29. THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN . . . . . . . . . . 176 + 30. ON PAROLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 + 31. THE TREASURE-HUNT--FLINT’S POINTER . . . 189 + 32. THE TREASURE-HUNT--THE VOICE AMONG + THE TREES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 + 33. THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN . . . . . . . . 201 + 34. AND LAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 + + + + +TREASURE ISLAND + + + + +PART ONE--The Old Buccaneer + + + + +1 + +The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow + + +SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having +asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from +the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the +island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I +take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when +my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the +sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. + +I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the +inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow--a +tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the +shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with +black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid +white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself +as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so +often afterwards: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and +broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of +stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, +called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, +he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still +looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. + +“This is a handy cove,” says he at length; “and a pleasant sittyated +grog-shop. Much company, mate?” + +My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity. + +“Well, then,” said he, “this is the berth for me. Here you, matey,” he +cried to the man who trundled the barrow; “bring up alongside and help +up my chest. I’ll stay here a bit,” he continued. “I’m a plain man; rum +and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch +ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I +see what you’re at--there”; and he threw down three or four gold pieces +on the threshold. “You can tell me when I’ve worked through that,” says +he, looking as fierce as a commander. + +And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none +of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like +a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came +with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at +the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the +coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as +lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And +that was all we could learn of our guest. + +He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or +upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner +of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly +he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and +blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came +about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back +from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the +road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind +that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was +desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow +(as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he +would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the +parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such +was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for +I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day +and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I +would only keep my “weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg” + and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first +of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only +blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was +out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and +repeat his orders to look out for “the seafaring man with one leg.” + +How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On +stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and +the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a +thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg +would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous +kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the +middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and +ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for +my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies. + +But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one +leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who +knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water +than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his +wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call +for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his +stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house +shaking with “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” all the neighbours joining +in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing +louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most +overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for +silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, +or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not +following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he +had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed. + +His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories +they were--about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and +the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his +own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men +that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told +these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the +crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be +ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over +and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his +presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking +back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country +life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to +admire him, calling him a “true sea-dog” and a “real old salt” and +such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England +terrible at sea. + +In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week +after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had +been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to +insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through +his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor +father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a +rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have +greatly hastened his early and unhappy death. + +All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his +dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his +hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it +was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his +coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before +the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, +and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the +most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had +ever seen open. + +He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor +father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came +late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my +mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should +come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I +followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright +doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and +pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, +with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, +far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he--the captain, +that is--began to pipe up his eternal song: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! + Drink and the devil had done for the rest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +At first I had supposed “the dead man’s chest” to be that identical big +box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled +in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this +time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it +was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it +did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite +angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on +a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually +brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon +the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices +stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s; he went on as before speaking +clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or +two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, +glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, +“Silence, there, between decks!” + +“Were you addressing me, sir?” says the doctor; and when the ruffian had +told him, with another oath, that this was so, “I have only one thing to +say to you, sir,” replies the doctor, “that if you keep on drinking rum, +the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!” + +The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened +a sailor’s clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, +threatened to pin the doctor to the wall. + +The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his +shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the +room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: “If you do not put that +knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall +hang at the next assizes.” + +Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon +knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like +a beaten dog. + +“And now, sir,” continued the doctor, “since I now know there’s such a +fellow in my district, you may count I’ll have an eye upon you day and +night. I’m not a doctor only; I’m a magistrate; and if I catch a breath +of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece of incivility like +tonight’s, I’ll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed +out of this. Let that suffice.” + +Soon after, Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door and he rode away, but +the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come. + + + + +2 + +Black Dog Appears and Disappears + + +IT was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the +mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you +will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard +frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor +father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother +and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without +paying much regard to our unpleasant guest. + +It was one January morning, very early--a pinching, frosty morning--the +cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, +the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to +seaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the +beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, +his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I +remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and +the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort +of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey. + +Well, mother was upstairs with father and I was laying the +breakfast-table against the captain’s return when the parlour door +opened and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He +was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand, and +though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I +had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I +remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a +smack of the sea about him too. + +I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum; but +as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table +and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my +hand. + +“Come here, sonny,” says he. “Come nearer here.” + +I took a step nearer. + +“Is this here table for my mate Bill?” he asked with a kind of leer. + +I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who +stayed in our house whom we called the captain. + +“Well,” said he, “my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like +as not. He has a cut on one cheek and a mighty pleasant way with him, +particularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument +like, that your captain has a cut on one cheek--and we’ll put it, if you +like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my +mate Bill in this here house?” + +I told him he was out walking. + +“Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?” + +And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was +likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions, +“Ah,” said he, “this’ll be as good as drink to my mate Bill.” + +The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all +pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was +mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of +mine, I thought; and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The +stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the +corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into +the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick +enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, +and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I +was back again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, half +sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy and he had +taken quite a fancy to me. “I have a son of my own,” said he, “as like +you as two blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great +thing for boys is discipline, sonny--discipline. Now, if you had sailed +along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood there to be spoke to twice--not +you. That was never Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. +And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, +bless his old ’art, to be sure. You and me’ll just go back into the +parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little +surprise--bless his ’art, I say again.” + +So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlour and put me +behind him in the corner so that we were both hidden by the open door. I +was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my +fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He +cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath; +and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt +what we used to call a lump in the throat. + +At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without +looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to +where his breakfast awaited him. + +“Bill,” said the stranger in a voice that I thought he had tried to make +bold and big. + +The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had +gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a +man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything +can be; and upon my word, I felt sorry to see him all in a moment turn +so old and sick. + +“Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely,” said +the stranger. + +The captain made a sort of gasp. + +“Black Dog!” said he. + +“And who else?” returned the other, getting more at his ease. “Black +Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the Admiral +Benbow inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since +I lost them two talons,” holding up his mutilated hand. + +“Now, look here,” said the captain; “you’ve run me down; here I am; +well, then, speak up; what is it?” + +“That’s you, Bill,” returned Black Dog, “you’re in the right of it, +Billy. I’ll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, as I’ve took +such a liking to; and we’ll sit down, if you please, and talk square, +like old shipmates.” + +When I returned with the rum, they were already seated on either side +of the captain’s breakfast-table--Black Dog next to the door and +sitting sideways so as to have one eye on his old shipmate and one, as I +thought, on his retreat. + +He bade me go and leave the door wide open. “None of your keyholes for +me, sonny,” he said; and I left them together and retired into the bar. + +For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear +nothing but a low gattling; but at last the voices began to grow higher, +and I could pick up a word or two, mostly oaths, from the captain. + +“No, no, no, no; and an end of it!” he cried once. And again, “If it +comes to swinging, swing all, say I.” + +Then all of a sudden there was a tremendous explosion of oaths and +other noises--the chair and table went over in a lump, a clash of steel +followed, and then a cry of pain, and the next instant I saw Black +Dog in full flight, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn +cutlasses, and the former streaming blood from the left shoulder. Just +at the door the captain aimed at the fugitive one last tremendous +cut, which would certainly have split him to the chine had it not been +intercepted by our big signboard of Admiral Benbow. You may see the +notch on the lower side of the frame to this day. + +That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, Black +Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a wonderful clean pair of heels and +disappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain, for +his part, stood staring at the signboard like a bewildered man. Then he +passed his hand over his eyes several times and at last turned back into +the house. + +“Jim,” says he, “rum”; and as he spoke, he reeled a little, and caught +himself with one hand against the wall. + +“Are you hurt?” cried I. + +“Rum,” he repeated. “I must get away from here. Rum! Rum!” + +I ran to fetch it, but I was quite unsteadied by all that had fallen +out, and I broke one glass and fouled the tap, and while I was still +getting in my own way, I heard a loud fall in the parlour, and running +in, beheld the captain lying full length upon the floor. At the same +instant my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running +downstairs to help me. Between us we raised his head. He was breathing +very loud and hard, but his eyes were closed and his face a horrible +colour. + +“Dear, deary me,” cried my mother, “what a disgrace upon the house! And +your poor father sick!” + +In the meantime, we had no idea what to do to help the captain, nor any +other thought but that he had got his death-hurt in the scuffle with +the stranger. I got the rum, to be sure, and tried to put it down his +throat, but his teeth were tightly shut and his jaws as strong as iron. +It was a happy relief for us when the door opened and Doctor Livesey +came in, on his visit to my father. + +“Oh, doctor,” we cried, “what shall we do? Where is he wounded?” + +“Wounded? A fiddle-stick’s end!” said the doctor. “No more wounded than +you or I. The man has had a stroke, as I warned him. Now, Mrs. Hawkins, +just you run upstairs to your husband and tell him, if possible, nothing +about it. For my part, I must do my best to save this fellow’s trebly +worthless life; Jim, you get me a basin.” + +When I got back with the basin, the doctor had already ripped up the +captain’s sleeve and exposed his great sinewy arm. It was tattooed +in several places. “Here’s luck,” “A fair wind,” and “Billy Bones his +fancy,” were very neatly and clearly executed on the forearm; and up +near the shoulder there was a sketch of a gallows and a man hanging from +it--done, as I thought, with great spirit. + +“Prophetic,” said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger. +“And now, Master Billy Bones, if that be your name, we’ll have a look at +the colour of your blood. Jim,” he said, “are you afraid of blood?” + +“No, sir,” said I. + +“Well, then,” said he, “you hold the basin”; and with that he took his +lancet and opened a vein. + +A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes +and looked mistily about him. First he recognized the doctor with +an unmistakable frown; then his glance fell upon me, and he looked +relieved. But suddenly his colour changed, and he tried to raise +himself, crying, “Where’s Black Dog?” + +“There is no Black Dog here,” said the doctor, “except what you have +on your own back. You have been drinking rum; you have had a stroke, +precisely as I told you; and I have just, very much against my own will, +dragged you headforemost out of the grave. Now, Mr. Bones--” + +“That’s not my name,” he interrupted. + +“Much I care,” returned the doctor. “It’s the name of a buccaneer of my +acquaintance; and I call you by it for the sake of shortness, and what I +have to say to you is this; one glass of rum won’t kill you, but if +you take one you’ll take another and another, and I stake my wig if you +don’t break off short, you’ll die--do you understand that?--die, and go +to your own place, like the man in the Bible. Come, now, make an effort. +I’ll help you to your bed for once.” + +Between us, with much trouble, we managed to hoist him upstairs, and +laid him on his bed, where his head fell back on the pillow as if he +were almost fainting. + +“Now, mind you,” said the doctor, “I clear my conscience--the name of +rum for you is death.” + +And with that he went off to see my father, taking me with him by the +arm. + +“This is nothing,” he said as soon as he had closed the door. “I have +drawn blood enough to keep him quiet awhile; he should lie for a week +where he is--that is the best thing for him and you; but another stroke +would settle him.” + + + + +3 + +The Black Spot + +ABOUT noon I stopped at the captain’s door with some cooling drinks +and medicines. He was lying very much as we had left him, only a little +higher, and he seemed both weak and excited. + +“Jim,” he said, “you’re the only one here that’s worth anything, and you +know I’ve been always good to you. Never a month but I’ve given you a +silver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I’m pretty low, +and deserted by all; and Jim, you’ll bring me one noggin of rum, now, +won’t you, matey?” + +“The doctor--” I began. + +But he broke in cursing the doctor, in a feeble voice but heartily. +“Doctors is all swabs,” he said; “and that doctor there, why, what do +he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates +dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the +sea with earthquakes--what to the doctor know of lands like that?--and I +lived on rum, I tell you. It’s been meat and drink, and man and wife, +to me; and if I’m not to have my rum now I’m a poor old hulk on a lee +shore, my blood’ll be on you, Jim, and that doctor swab”; and he ran on +again for a while with curses. “Look, Jim, how my fingers fidges,” + he continued in the pleading tone. “I can’t keep ’em still, not I. I +haven’t had a drop this blessed day. That doctor’s a fool, I tell you. +If I don’t have a dram o’ rum, Jim, I’ll have the horrors; I seen some +on ’em already. I seen old Flint in the corner there, behind you; as +plain as print, I seen him; and if I get the horrors, I’m a man that +has lived rough, and I’ll raise Cain. Your doctor hisself said one glass +wouldn’t hurt me. I’ll give you a golden guinea for a noggin, Jim.” + +He was growing more and more excited, and this alarmed me for my father, +who was very low that day and needed quiet; besides, I was reassured by +the doctor’s words, now quoted to me, and rather offended by the offer +of a bribe. + +“I want none of your money,” said I, “but what you owe my father. I’ll +get you one glass, and no more.” + +When I brought it to him, he seized it greedily and drank it out. + +“Aye, aye,” said he, “that’s some better, sure enough. And now, matey, +did that doctor say how long I was to lie here in this old berth?” + +“A week at least,” said I. + +“Thunder!” he cried. “A week! I can’t do that; they’d have the black +spot on me by then. The lubbers is going about to get the wind of me +this blessed moment; lubbers as couldn’t keep what they got, and want to +nail what is another’s. Is that seamanly behaviour, now, I want to know? +But I’m a saving soul. I never wasted good money of mine, nor lost it +neither; and I’ll trick ’em again. I’m not afraid on ’em. I’ll shake out +another reef, matey, and daddle ’em again.” + +As he was thus speaking, he had risen from bed with great difficulty, +holding to my shoulder with a grip that almost made me cry out, and +moving his legs like so much dead weight. His words, spirited as they +were in meaning, contrasted sadly with the weakness of the voice in +which they were uttered. He paused when he had got into a sitting +position on the edge. + +“That doctor’s done me,” he murmured. “My ears is singing. Lay me back.” + +Before I could do much to help him he had fallen back again to his +former place, where he lay for a while silent. + +“Jim,” he said at length, “you saw that seafaring man today?” + +“Black Dog?” I asked. + +“Ah! Black Dog,” says he. “_He’s_ a bad ’un; but there’s worse that put him +on. Now, if I can’t get away nohow, and they tip me the black spot, mind +you, it’s my old sea-chest they’re after; you get on a horse--you can, +can’t you? Well, then, you get on a horse, and go to--well, yes, +I will!--to that eternal doctor swab, and tell him to pipe all +hands--magistrates and sich--and he’ll lay ’em aboard at the Admiral +Benbow--all old Flint’s crew, man and boy, all on ’em that’s left. I was +first mate, I was, old Flint’s first mate, and I’m the on’y one as knows +the place. He gave it me at Savannah, when he lay a-dying, like as if I +was to now, you see. But you won’t peach unless they get the black spot +on me, or unless you see that Black Dog again or a seafaring man with +one leg, Jim--him above all.” + +“But what is the black spot, captain?” I asked. + +“That’s a summons, mate. I’ll tell you if they get that. But you keep +your weather-eye open, Jim, and I’ll share with you equals, upon my +honour.” + +He wandered a little longer, his voice growing weaker; but soon after I +had given him his medicine, which he took like a child, with the remark, +“If ever a seaman wanted drugs, it’s me,” he fell at last into a heavy, +swoon-like sleep, in which I left him. What I should have done had all +gone well I do not know. Probably I should have told the whole story to +the doctor, for I was in mortal fear lest the captain should repent of +his confessions and make an end of me. But as things fell out, my poor +father died quite suddenly that evening, which put all other matters +on one side. Our natural distress, the visits of the neighbours, the +arranging of the funeral, and all the work of the inn to be carried on +in the meanwhile kept me so busy that I had scarcely time to think of +the captain, far less to be afraid of him. + +He got downstairs next morning, to be sure, and had his meals as usual, +though he ate little and had more, I am afraid, than his usual supply of +rum, for he helped himself out of the bar, scowling and blowing through +his nose, and no one dared to cross him. On the night before the funeral +he was as drunk as ever; and it was shocking, in that house of mourning, +to hear him singing away at his ugly old sea-song; but weak as he was, +we were all in the fear of death for him, and the doctor was suddenly +taken up with a case many miles away and was never near the house after +my father’s death. I have said the captain was weak, and indeed he +seemed rather to grow weaker than regain his strength. He clambered up +and down stairs, and went from the parlour to the bar and back again, +and sometimes put his nose out of doors to smell the sea, holding on to +the walls as he went for support and breathing hard and fast like a man +on a steep mountain. He never particularly addressed me, and it is my +belief he had as good as forgotten his confidences; but his temper was +more flighty, and allowing for his bodily weakness, more violent than +ever. He had an alarming way now when he was drunk of drawing his +cutlass and laying it bare before him on the table. But with all that, +he minded people less and seemed shut up in his own thoughts and rather +wandering. Once, for instance, to our extreme wonder, he piped up to a +different air, a kind of country love-song that he must have learned in +his youth before he had begun to follow the sea. + +So things passed until, the day after the funeral, and about three +o’clock of a bitter, foggy, frosty afternoon, I was standing at the door +for a moment, full of sad thoughts about my father, when I saw someone +drawing slowly near along the road. He was plainly blind, for he tapped +before him with a stick and wore a great green shade over his eyes and +nose; and he was hunched, as if with age or weakness, and wore a huge +old tattered sea-cloak with a hood that made him appear positively +deformed. I never saw in my life a more dreadful-looking figure. +He stopped a little from the inn, and raising his voice in an odd +sing-song, addressed the air in front of him, “Will any kind friend +inform a poor blind man, who has lost the precious sight of his eyes in +the gracious defence of his native country, England--and God bless King +George!--where or in what part of this country he may now be?” + +“You are at the Admiral Benbow, Black Hill Cove, my good man,” said I. + +“I hear a voice,” said he, “a young voice. Will you give me your hand, +my kind young friend, and lead me in?” + +I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eyeless creature +gripped it in a moment like a vise. I was so much startled that I +struggled to withdraw, but the blind man pulled me close up to him with +a single action of his arm. + +“Now, boy,” he said, “take me in to the captain.” + +“Sir,” said I, “upon my word I dare not.” + +“Oh,” he sneered, “that’s it! Take me in straight or I’ll break your +arm.” + +And he gave it, as he spoke, a wrench that made me cry out. + +“Sir,” said I, “it is for yourself I mean. The captain is not what he +used to be. He sits with a drawn cutlass. Another gentleman--” + +“Come, now, march,” interrupted he; and I never heard a voice so cruel, +and cold, and ugly as that blind man’s. It cowed me more than the pain, +and I began to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door and +towards the parlour, where our sick old buccaneer was sitting, dazed +with rum. The blind man clung close to me, holding me in one iron fist +and leaning almost more of his weight on me than I could carry. “Lead me +straight up to him, and when I’m in view, cry out, ‘Here’s a friend +for you, Bill.’ If you don’t, I’ll do this,” and with that he gave me a +twitch that I thought would have made me faint. Between this and that, I +was so utterly terrified of the blind beggar that I forgot my terror of +the captain, and as I opened the parlour door, cried out the words he +had ordered in a trembling voice. + +The poor captain raised his eyes, and at one look the rum went out of +him and left him staring sober. The expression of his face was not so +much of terror as of mortal sickness. He made a movement to rise, but I +do not believe he had enough force left in his body. + +“Now, Bill, sit where you are,” said the beggar. “If I can’t see, I can +hear a finger stirring. Business is business. Hold out your left hand. +Boy, take his left hand by the wrist and bring it near to my right.” + +We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass something from the +hollow of the hand that held his stick into the palm of the captain’s, +which closed upon it instantly. + +“And now that’s done,” said the blind man; and at the words he suddenly +left hold of me, and with incredible accuracy and nimbleness, +skipped out of the parlour and into the road, where, as I still stood +motionless, I could hear his stick go tap-tap-tapping into the distance. + +It was some time before either I or the captain seemed to gather our +senses, but at length, and about at the same moment, I released his +wrist, which I was still holding, and he drew in his hand and looked +sharply into the palm. + +“Ten o’clock!” he cried. “Six hours. We’ll do them yet,” and he sprang +to his feet. + +Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his throat, stood swaying +for a moment, and then, with a peculiar sound, fell from his whole +height face foremost to the floor. + +I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But haste was all in vain. +The captain had been struck dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious +thing to understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, though of +late I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead, I +burst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and +the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart. + + + + +4 + +The Sea-chest + +I LOST no time, of course, in telling my mother all that I knew, and +perhaps should have told her long before, and we saw ourselves at once +in a difficult and dangerous position. Some of the man’s money--if +he had any--was certainly due to us, but it was not likely that our +captain’s shipmates, above all the two specimens seen by me, Black +Dog and the blind beggar, would be inclined to give up their booty in +payment of the dead man’s debts. The captain’s order to mount at +once and ride for Doctor Livesey would have left my mother alone +and unprotected, which was not to be thought of. Indeed, it seemed +impossible for either of us to remain much longer in the house; the fall +of coals in the kitchen grate, the very ticking of the clock, filled +us with alarms. The neighbourhood, to our ears, seemed haunted by +approaching footsteps; and what between the dead body of the captain +on the parlour floor and the thought of that detestable blind beggar +hovering near at hand and ready to return, there were moments when, as +the saying goes, I jumped in my skin for terror. Something must speedily +be resolved upon, and it occurred to us at last to go forth together +and seek help in the neighbouring hamlet. No sooner said than done. +Bare-headed as we were, we ran out at once in the gathering evening and +the frosty fog. + +The hamlet lay not many hundred yards away, though out of view, on the +other side of the next cove; and what greatly encouraged me, it was +in an opposite direction from that whence the blind man had made his +appearance and whither he had presumably returned. We were not many +minutes on the road, though we sometimes stopped to lay hold of each +other and hearken. But there was no unusual sound--nothing but the low +wash of the ripple and the croaking of the inmates of the wood. + +It was already candle-light when we reached the hamlet, and I shall +never forget how much I was cheered to see the yellow shine in doors and +windows; but that, as it proved, was the best of the help we were likely +to get in that quarter. For--you would have thought men would have been +ashamed of themselves--no soul would consent to return with us to the +Admiral Benbow. The more we told of our troubles, the more--man, woman, +and child--they clung to the shelter of their houses. The name of +Captain Flint, though it was strange to me, was well enough known to +some there and carried a great weight of terror. Some of the men who +had been to field-work on the far side of the Admiral Benbow remembered, +besides, to have seen several strangers on the road, and taking them to +be smugglers, to have bolted away; and one at least had seen a little +lugger in what we called Kitt’s Hole. For that matter, anyone who was a +comrade of the captain’s was enough to frighten them to death. And the +short and the long of the matter was, that while we could get several +who were willing enough to ride to Dr. Livesey’s, which lay in another +direction, not one would help us to defend the inn. + +They say cowardice is infectious; but then argument is, on the other +hand, a great emboldener; and so when each had said his say, my mother +made them a speech. She would not, she declared, lose money that +belonged to her fatherless boy; “If none of the rest of you dare,” + she said, “Jim and I dare. Back we will go, the way we came, and small +thanks to you big, hulking, chicken-hearted men. We’ll have that chest +open, if we die for it. And I’ll thank you for that bag, Mrs. Crossley, +to bring back our lawful money in.” + +Of course I said I would go with my mother, and of course they all cried +out at our foolhardiness, but even then not a man would go along with +us. All they would do was to give me a loaded pistol lest we were +attacked, and to promise to have horses ready saddled in case we were +pursued on our return, while one lad was to ride forward to the doctor’s +in search of armed assistance. + +My heart was beating finely when we two set forth in the cold night upon +this dangerous venture. A full moon was beginning to rise and peered +redly through the upper edges of the fog, and this increased our haste, +for it was plain, before we came forth again, that all would be as +bright as day, and our departure exposed to the eyes of any watchers. +We slipped along the hedges, noiseless and swift, nor did we see or hear +anything to increase our terrors, till, to our relief, the door of the +Admiral Benbow had closed behind us. + +I slipped the bolt at once, and we stood and panted for a moment in the +dark, alone in the house with the dead captain’s body. Then my mother +got a candle in the bar, and holding each other’s hands, we advanced +into the parlour. He lay as we had left him, on his back, with his eyes +open and one arm stretched out. + +“Draw down the blind, Jim,” whispered my mother; “they might come and +watch outside. And now,” said she when I had done so, “we have to get +the key off _that;_ and who’s to touch it, I should like to know!” and she +gave a kind of sob as she said the words. + +I went down on my knees at once. On the floor close to his hand there +was a little round of paper, blackened on the one side. I could not +doubt that this was the _black spot;_ and taking it up, I found written +on the other side, in a very good, clear hand, this short message: “You +have till ten tonight.” + +“He had till ten, Mother,” said I; and just as I said it, our old clock +began striking. This sudden noise startled us shockingly; but the news +was good, for it was only six. + +“Now, Jim,” she said, “that key.” + +I felt in his pockets, one after another. A few small coins, a thimble, +and some thread and big needles, a piece of pigtail tobacco bitten away +at the end, his gully with the crooked handle, a pocket compass, and a +tinder box were all that they contained, and I began to despair. + +“Perhaps it’s round his neck,” suggested my mother. + +Overcoming a strong repugnance, I tore open his shirt at the neck, and +there, sure enough, hanging to a bit of tarry string, which I cut with +his own gully, we found the key. At this triumph we were filled with +hope and hurried upstairs without delay to the little room where he had +slept so long and where his box had stood since the day of his arrival. + +It was like any other seaman’s chest on the outside, the initial “B” + burned on the top of it with a hot iron, and the corners somewhat +smashed and broken as by long, rough usage. + +“Give me the key,” said my mother; and though the lock was very stiff, +she had turned it and thrown back the lid in a twinkling. + +A strong smell of tobacco and tar rose from the interior, but nothing +was to be seen on the top except a suit of very good clothes, carefully +brushed and folded. They had never been worn, my mother said. Under +that, the miscellany began--a quadrant, a tin canikin, several sticks of +tobacco, two brace of very handsome pistols, a piece of bar silver, an +old Spanish watch and some other trinkets of little value and mostly of +foreign make, a pair of compasses mounted with brass, and five or six +curious West Indian shells. I have often wondered since why he should +have carried about these shells with him in his wandering, guilty, and +hunted life. + +In the meantime, we had found nothing of any value but the silver and +the trinkets, and neither of these were in our way. Underneath there +was an old boat-cloak, whitened with sea-salt on many a harbour-bar. My +mother pulled it up with impatience, and there lay before us, the last +things in the chest, a bundle tied up in oilcloth, and looking like +papers, and a canvas bag that gave forth, at a touch, the jingle of +gold. + +“I’ll show these rogues that I’m an honest woman,” said my mother. “I’ll +have my dues, and not a farthing over. Hold Mrs. Crossley’s bag.” And +she began to count over the amount of the captain’s score from the +sailor’s bag into the one that I was holding. + +It was a long, difficult business, for the coins were of all countries +and sizes--doubloons, and louis d’ors, and guineas, and pieces of eight, +and I know not what besides, all shaken together at random. The guineas, +too, were about the scarcest, and it was with these only that my mother +knew how to make her count. + +When we were about half-way through, I suddenly put my hand upon her +arm, for I had heard in the silent frosty air a sound that brought my +heart into my mouth--the tap-tapping of the blind man’s stick upon the +frozen road. It drew nearer and nearer, while we sat holding our breath. +Then it struck sharp on the inn door, and then we could hear the handle +being turned and the bolt rattling as the wretched being tried to enter; +and then there was a long time of silence both within and without. +At last the tapping recommenced, and, to our indescribable joy and +gratitude, died slowly away again until it ceased to be heard. + +“Mother,” said I, “take the whole and let’s be going,” for I was sure +the bolted door must have seemed suspicious and would bring the whole +hornet’s nest about our ears, though how thankful I was that I had +bolted it, none could tell who had never met that terrible blind man. + +But my mother, frightened as she was, would not consent to take a +fraction more than was due to her and was obstinately unwilling to be +content with less. It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way; she +knew her rights and she would have them; and she was still arguing with +me when a little low whistle sounded a good way off upon the hill. That +was enough, and more than enough, for both of us. + +“I’ll take what I have,” she said, jumping to her feet. + +“And I’ll take this to square the count,” said I, picking up the oilskin +packet. + +Next moment we were both groping downstairs, leaving the candle by +the empty chest; and the next we had opened the door and were in full +retreat. We had not started a moment too soon. The fog was rapidly +dispersing; already the moon shone quite clear on the high ground on +either side; and it was only in the exact bottom of the dell and round +the tavern door that a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the +first steps of our escape. Far less than half-way to the hamlet, very +little beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come forth into the +moonlight. Nor was this all, for the sound of several footsteps running +came already to our ears, and as we looked back in their direction, a +light tossing to and fro and still rapidly advancing showed that one of +the newcomers carried a lantern. + +“My dear,” said my mother suddenly, “take the money and run on. I am +going to faint.” + +This was certainly the end for both of us, I thought. How I cursed the +cowardice of the neighbours; how I blamed my poor mother for her honesty +and her greed, for her past foolhardiness and present weakness! We were +just at the little bridge, by good fortune; and I helped her, tottering +as she was, to the edge of the bank, where, sure enough, she gave a sigh +and fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it +at all, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I managed to drag her +down the bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not move +her, for the bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below it. +So there we had to stay--my mother almost entirely exposed and both of +us within earshot of the inn. + + + + +5 + +The Last of the Blind Man + +MY curiosity, in a sense, was stronger than my fear, for I could not +remain where I was, but crept back to the bank again, whence, sheltering +my head behind a bush of broom, I might command the road before our +door. I was scarcely in position ere my enemies began to arrive, seven +or eight of them, running hard, their feet beating out of time along +the road and the man with the lantern some paces in front. Three men ran +together, hand in hand; and I made out, even through the mist, that the +middle man of this trio was the blind beggar. The next moment his voice +showed me that I was right. + +“Down with the door!” he cried. + +“Aye, aye, sir!” answered two or three; and a rush was made upon the +Admiral Benbow, the lantern-bearer following; and then I could see +them pause, and hear speeches passed in a lower key, as if they were +surprised to find the door open. But the pause was brief, for the blind +man again issued his commands. His voice sounded louder and higher, as +if he were afire with eagerness and rage. + +“In, in, in!” he shouted, and cursed them for their delay. + +Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining on the road with the +formidable beggar. There was a pause, then a cry of surprise, and then a +voice shouting from the house, “Bill’s dead.” + +But the blind man swore at them again for their delay. + +“Search him, some of you shirking lubbers, and the rest of you aloft and +get the chest,” he cried. + +I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so that the +house must have shook with it. Promptly afterwards, fresh sounds of +astonishment arose; the window of the captain’s room was thrown open +with a slam and a jingle of broken glass, and a man leaned out into the +moonlight, head and shoulders, and addressed the blind beggar on the +road below him. + +“Pew,” he cried, “they’ve been before us. Someone’s turned the chest out +alow and aloft.” + +“Is it there?” roared Pew. + +“The money’s there.” + +The blind man cursed the money. + +“Flint’s fist, I mean,” he cried. + +“We don’t see it here nohow,” returned the man. + +“Here, you below there, is it on Bill?” cried the blind man again. + +At that another fellow, probably him who had remained below to search +the captain’s body, came to the door of the inn. “Bill’s been overhauled +a’ready,” said he; “nothin’ left.” + +“It’s these people of the inn--it’s that boy. I wish I had put his eyes +out!” cried the blind man, Pew. “There were no time ago--they had the +door bolted when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find ’em.” + +“Sure enough, they left their glim here,” said the fellow from the +window. + +“Scatter and find ’em! Rout the house out!” reiterated Pew, striking +with his stick upon the road. + +Then there followed a great to-do through all our old inn, heavy feet +pounding to and fro, furniture thrown over, doors kicked in, until the +very rocks re-echoed and the men came out again, one after another, on +the road and declared that we were nowhere to be found. And just +the same whistle that had alarmed my mother and myself over the dead +captain’s money was once more clearly audible through the night, +but this time twice repeated. I had thought it to be the blind man’s +trumpet, so to speak, summoning his crew to the assault, but I now found +that it was a signal from the hillside towards the hamlet, and from its +effect upon the buccaneers, a signal to warn them of approaching danger. + +“There’s Dirk again,” said one. “Twice! We’ll have to budge, mates.” + +“Budge, you skulk!” cried Pew. “Dirk was a fool and a coward from the +first--you wouldn’t mind him. They must be close by; they can’t be far; +you have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, dogs! Oh, shiver +my soul,” he cried, “if I had eyes!” + +This appeal seemed to produce some effect, for two of the fellows began +to look here and there among the lumber, but half-heartedly, I thought, +and with half an eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest +stood irresolute on the road. + +“You have your hands on thousands, you fools, and you hang a leg! You’d +be as rich as kings if you could find it, and you know it’s here, and +you stand there skulking. There wasn’t one of you dared face Bill, and +I did it--a blind man! And I’m to lose my chance for you! I’m to be a +poor, crawling beggar, sponging for rum, when I might be rolling in a +coach! If you had the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit you would catch +them still.” + +“Hang it, Pew, we’ve got the doubloons!” grumbled one. + +“They might have hid the blessed thing,” said another. “Take the +Georges, Pew, and don’t stand here squalling.” + +Squalling was the word for it; Pew’s anger rose so high at these +objections till at last, his passion completely taking the upper hand, +he struck at them right and left in his blindness and his stick sounded +heavily on more than one. + +These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind miscreant, threatened him +in horrid terms, and tried in vain to catch the stick and wrest it from +his grasp. + +This quarrel was the saving of us, for while it was still raging, +another sound came from the top of the hill on the side of the +hamlet--the tramp of horses galloping. Almost at the same time a +pistol-shot, flash and report, came from the hedge side. And that was +plainly the last signal of danger, for the buccaneers turned at once +and ran, separating in every direction, one seaward along the cove, one +slant across the hill, and so on, so that in half a minute not a sign of +them remained but Pew. Him they had deserted, whether in sheer panic +or out of revenge for his ill words and blows I know not; but there he +remained behind, tapping up and down the road in a frenzy, and groping +and calling for his comrades. Finally he took a wrong turn and ran a few +steps past me, towards the hamlet, crying, “Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk,” + and other names, “you won’t leave old Pew, mates--not old Pew!” + +Just then the noise of horses topped the rise, and four or five riders +came in sight in the moonlight and swept at full gallop down the slope. + +At this Pew saw his error, turned with a scream, and ran straight for +the ditch, into which he rolled. But he was on his feet again in a +second and made another dash, now utterly bewildered, right under the +nearest of the coming horses. + +The rider tried to save him, but in vain. Down went Pew with a cry that +rang high into the night; and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him +and passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed upon his face +and moved no more. + +I leaped to my feet and hailed the riders. They were pulling up, at any +rate, horrified at the accident; and I soon saw what they were. One, +tailing out behind the rest, was a lad that had gone from the hamlet to +Dr. Livesey’s; the rest were revenue officers, whom he had met by the +way, and with whom he had had the intelligence to return at once. Some +news of the lugger in Kitt’s Hole had found its way to Supervisor Dance +and set him forth that night in our direction, and to that circumstance +my mother and I owed our preservation from death. + +Pew was dead, stone dead. As for my mother, when we had carried her up +to the hamlet, a little cold water and salts and that soon brought her +back again, and she was none the worse for her terror, though she still +continued to deplore the balance of the money. In the meantime the +supervisor rode on, as fast as he could, to Kitt’s Hole; but his men +had to dismount and grope down the dingle, leading, and sometimes +supporting, their horses, and in continual fear of ambushes; so it was +no great matter for surprise that when they got down to the Hole the +lugger was already under way, though still close in. He hailed her. A +voice replied, telling him to keep out of the moonlight or he would get +some lead in him, and at the same time a bullet whistled close by his +arm. Soon after, the lugger doubled the point and disappeared. Mr. Dance +stood there, as he said, “like a fish out of water,” and all he could do +was to dispatch a man to B---- to warn the cutter. “And that,” said he, +“is just about as good as nothing. They’ve got off clean, and there’s +an end. Only,” he added, “I’m glad I trod on Master Pew’s corns,” for by +this time he had heard my story. + +I went back with him to the Admiral Benbow, and you cannot imagine a +house in such a state of smash; the very clock had been thrown down +by these fellows in their furious hunt after my mother and myself; +and though nothing had actually been taken away except the captain’s +money-bag and a little silver from the till, I could see at once that we +were ruined. Mr. Dance could make nothing of the scene. + +“They got the money, you say? Well, then, Hawkins, what in fortune were +they after? More money, I suppose?” + +“No, sir; not money, I think,” replied I. “In fact, sir, I believe I +have the thing in my breast pocket; and to tell you the truth, I should +like to get it put in safety.” + +“To be sure, boy; quite right,” said he. “I’ll take it, if you like.” + +“I thought perhaps Dr. Livesey--” I began. + +“Perfectly right,” he interrupted very cheerily, “perfectly right--a +gentleman and a magistrate. And, now I come to think of it, I might as +well ride round there myself and report to him or squire. Master Pew’s +dead, when all’s done; not that I regret it, but he’s dead, you see, and +people will make it out against an officer of his Majesty’s revenue, +if make it out they can. Now, I’ll tell you, Hawkins, if you like, I’ll +take you along.” + +I thanked him heartily for the offer, and we walked back to the hamlet +where the horses were. By the time I had told mother of my purpose they +were all in the saddle. + +“Dogger,” said Mr. Dance, “you have a good horse; take up this lad +behind you.” + +As soon as I was mounted, holding on to Dogger’s belt, the supervisor +gave the word, and the party struck out at a bouncing trot on the road +to Dr. Livesey’s house. + + + + +6 + +The Captain’s Papers + +WE rode hard all the way till we drew up before Dr. Livesey’s door. The +house was all dark to the front. + +Mr. Dance told me to jump down and knock, and Dogger gave me a stirrup +to descend by. The door was opened almost at once by the maid. + +“Is Dr. Livesey in?” I asked. + +No, she said, he had come home in the afternoon but had gone up to the +hall to dine and pass the evening with the squire. + +“So there we go, boys,” said Mr. Dance. + +This time, as the distance was short, I did not mount, but ran with +Dogger’s stirrup-leather to the lodge gates and up the long, leafless, +moonlit avenue to where the white line of the hall buildings looked on +either hand on great old gardens. Here Mr. Dance dismounted, and taking +me along with him, was admitted at a word into the house. + +The servant led us down a matted passage and showed us at the end into a +great library, all lined with bookcases and busts upon the top of them, +where the squire and Dr. Livesey sat, pipe in hand, on either side of a +bright fire. + +I had never seen the squire so near at hand. He was a tall man, over six +feet high, and broad in proportion, and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready +face, all roughened and reddened and lined in his long travels. His +eyebrows were very black, and moved readily, and this gave him a look of +some temper, not bad, you would say, but quick and high. + +“Come in, Mr. Dance,” says he, very stately and condescending. + +“Good evening, Dance,” says the doctor with a nod. “And good evening to +you, friend Jim. What good wind brings you here?” + +The supervisor stood up straight and stiff and told his story like a +lesson; and you should have seen how the two gentlemen leaned forward +and looked at each other, and forgot to smoke in their surprise and +interest. When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, Dr. +Livesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried “Bravo!” and +broke his long pipe against the grate. Long before it was done, Mr. +Trelawney (that, you will remember, was the squire’s name) had got up +from his seat and was striding about the room, and the doctor, as if to +hear the better, had taken off his powdered wig and sat there looking +very strange indeed with his own close-cropped black poll. + +At last Mr. Dance finished the story. + +“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “you are a very noble fellow. And as for +riding down that black, atrocious miscreant, I regard it as an act of +virtue, sir, like stamping on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump, +I perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell? Mr. Dance must have some +ale.” + +“And so, Jim,” said the doctor, “you have the thing that they were +after, have you?” + +“Here it is, sir,” said I, and gave him the oilskin packet. + +The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were itching to open +it; but instead of doing that, he put it quietly in the pocket of his +coat. + +“Squire,” said he, “when Dance has had his ale he must, of course, be +off on his Majesty’s service; but I mean to keep Jim Hawkins here to +sleep at my house, and with your permission, I propose we should have up +the cold pie and let him sup.” + +“As you will, Livesey,” said the squire; “Hawkins has earned better than +cold pie.” + +So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a sidetable, and I made +a hearty supper, for I was as hungry as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was +further complimented and at last dismissed. + +“And now, squire,” said the doctor. + +“And now, Livesey,” said the squire in the same breath. + +“One at a time, one at a time,” laughed Dr. Livesey. “You have heard of +this Flint, I suppose?” + +“Heard of him!” cried the squire. “Heard of him, you say! He was the +bloodthirstiest buccaneer that sailed. Blackbeard was a child to Flint. +The Spaniards were so prodigiously afraid of him that, I tell you, sir, +I was sometimes proud he was an Englishman. I’ve seen his top-sails with +these eyes, off Trinidad, and the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I +sailed with put back--put back, sir, into Port of Spain.” + +“Well, I’ve heard of him myself, in England,” said the doctor. “But the +point is, had he money?” + +“Money!” cried the squire. “Have you heard the story? What were these +villains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what +would they risk their rascal carcasses but money?” + +“That we shall soon know,” replied the doctor. “But you are so +confoundedly hot-headed and exclamatory that I cannot get a word in. +What I want to know is this: Supposing that I have here in my pocket +some clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure amount +to much?” + +“Amount, sir!” cried the squire. “It will amount to this: If we have the +clue you talk about, I fit out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you and +Hawkins here along, and I’ll have that treasure if I search a year.” + +“Very well,” said the doctor. “Now, then, if Jim is agreeable, we’ll +open the packet”; and he laid it before him on the table. + +The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to get out his +instrument case and cut the stitches with his medical scissors. It +contained two things--a book and a sealed paper. + +“First of all we’ll try the book,” observed the doctor. + +The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder as he opened +it, for Dr. Livesey had kindly motioned me to come round from the +side-table, where I had been eating, to enjoy the sport of the search. +On the first page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a man +with a pen in his hand might make for idleness or practice. One was the +same as the tattoo mark, “Billy Bones his fancy”; then there was “Mr. W. +Bones, mate,” “No more rum,” “Off Palm Key he got itt,” and some other +snatches, mostly single words and unintelligible. I could not help +wondering who it was that had “got itt,” and what “itt” was that he got. +A knife in his back as like as not. + +“Not much instruction there,” said Dr. Livesey as he passed on. + +The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a curious series of +entries. There was a date at one end of the line and at the other a +sum of money, as in common account-books, but instead of explanatory +writing, only a varying number of crosses between the two. On the 12th +of June, 1745, for instance, a sum of seventy pounds had plainly become +due to someone, and there was nothing but six crosses to explain the +cause. In a few cases, to be sure, the name of a place would be added, +as “Offe Caraccas,” or a mere entry of latitude and longitude, as “62o +17′ 20″, 19o 2′ 40″.” + +The record lasted over nearly twenty years, the amount of the separate +entries growing larger as time went on, and at the end a grand total +had been made out after five or six wrong additions, and these words +appended, “Bones, his pile.” + +“I can’t make head or tail of this,” said Dr. Livesey. + +“The thing is as clear as noonday,” cried the squire. “This is the +black-hearted hound’s account-book. These crosses stand for the names of +ships or towns that they sank or plundered. The sums are the scoundrel’s +share, and where he feared an ambiguity, you see he added something +clearer. ‘Offe Caraccas,’ now; you see, here was some unhappy vessel +boarded off that coast. God help the poor souls that manned her--coral +long ago.” + +“Right!” said the doctor. “See what it is to be a traveller. Right! And +the amounts increase, you see, as he rose in rank.” + +There was little else in the volume but a few bearings of places noted +in the blank leaves towards the end and a table for reducing French, +English, and Spanish moneys to a common value. + +“Thrifty man!” cried the doctor. “He wasn’t the one to be cheated.” + +“And now,” said the squire, “for the other.” + +The paper had been sealed in several places with a thimble by way of +seal; the very thimble, perhaps, that I had found in the captain’s +pocket. The doctor opened the seals with great care, and there fell out +the map of an island, with latitude and longitude, soundings, names of +hills and bays and inlets, and every particular that would be needed +to bring a ship to a safe anchorage upon its shores. It was about nine +miles long and five across, shaped, you might say, like a fat dragon +standing up, and had two fine land-locked harbours, and a hill in the +centre part marked “The Spy-glass.” There were several additions of a +later date, but above all, three crosses of red ink--two on the north +part of the island, one in the southwest--and beside this last, in +the same red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very different from the +captain’s tottery characters, these words: “Bulk of treasure here.” + +Over on the back the same hand had written this further information: + + Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to + the N. of N.N.E. + + Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. + + Ten feet. + + The bar silver is in the north cache; you can find + it by the trend of the east hummock, ten fathoms + south of the black crag with the face on it. + + The arms are easy found, in the sand-hill, N. + point of north inlet cape, bearing E. and a + quarter N. + J.F. + +That was all; but brief as it was, and to me incomprehensible, it filled +the squire and Dr. Livesey with delight. + +“Livesey,” said the squire, “you will give up this wretched practice +at once. Tomorrow I start for Bristol. In three weeks’ time--three +weeks!--two weeks--ten days--we’ll have the best ship, sir, and the +choicest crew in England. Hawkins shall come as cabin-boy. You’ll make +a famous cabin-boy, Hawkins. You, Livesey, are ship’s doctor; I am +admiral. We’ll take Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter. We’ll have favourable +winds, a quick passage, and not the least difficulty in finding the +spot, and money to eat, to roll in, to play duck and drake with ever +after.” + +“Trelawney,” said the doctor, “I’ll go with you; and I’ll go bail for +it, so will Jim, and be a credit to the undertaking. There’s only one +man I’m afraid of.” + +“And who’s that?” cried the squire. “Name the dog, sir!” + +“You,” replied the doctor; “for you cannot hold your tongue. We are not +the only men who know of this paper. These fellows who attacked the +inn tonight--bold, desperate blades, for sure--and the rest who stayed +aboard that lugger, and more, I dare say, not far off, are, one and all, +through thick and thin, bound that they’ll get that money. We must none +of us go alone till we get to sea. Jim and I shall stick together in the +meanwhile; you’ll take Joyce and Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and +from first to last, not one of us must breathe a word of what we’ve +found.” + +“Livesey,” returned the squire, “you are always in the right of it. I’ll +be as silent as the grave.” + + + + + + +PART TWO--The Sea-cook + + + + +7 + +I Go to Bristol + +IT was longer than the squire imagined ere we were ready for the sea, +and none of our first plans--not even Dr. Livesey’s, of keeping me +beside him--could be carried out as we intended. The doctor had to go +to London for a physician to take charge of his practice; the squire was +hard at work at Bristol; and I lived on at the hall under the charge of +old Redruth, the gamekeeper, almost a prisoner, but full of sea-dreams +and the most charming anticipations of strange islands and adventures. +I brooded by the hour together over the map, all the details of which +I well remembered. Sitting by the fire in the housekeeper’s room, I +approached that island in my fancy from every possible direction; I +explored every acre of its surface; I climbed a thousand times to that +tall hill they call the Spy-glass, and from the top enjoyed the most +wonderful and changing prospects. Sometimes the isle was thick with +savages, with whom we fought, sometimes full of dangerous animals that +hunted us, but in all my fancies nothing occurred to me so strange and +tragic as our actual adventures. + +So the weeks passed on, till one fine day there came a letter addressed +to Dr. Livesey, with this addition, “To be opened, in the case of his +absence, by Tom Redruth or young Hawkins.” Obeying this order, we +found, or rather I found--for the gamekeeper was a poor hand at reading +anything but print--the following important news: + + Old Anchor Inn, Bristol, March 1, 17-- + + Dear Livesey--As I do not know whether you + are at the hall or still in London, I send this in + double to both places. + + The ship is bought and fitted. She lies at + anchor, ready for sea. You never imagined a + sweeter schooner--a child might sail her--two + hundred tons; name, HISPANIOLA. + + I got her through my old friend, Blandly, who + has proved himself throughout the most surprising + trump. The admirable fellow literally slaved in + my interest, and so, I may say, did everyone in + Bristol, as soon as they got wind of the port we + sailed for--treasure, I mean. + +“Redruth,” said I, interrupting the letter, “Dr. Livesey will not like +that. The squire has been talking, after all.” + +“Well, who’s a better right?” growled the gamekeeper. “A pretty rum go +if squire ain’t to talk for Dr. Livesey, I should think.” + +At that I gave up all attempts at commentary and read straight on: + + Blandly himself found the HISPANIOLA, and + by the most admirable management got her for the + merest trifle. There is a class of men in Bristol + monstrously prejudiced against Blandly. They go + the length of declaring that this honest creature + would do anything for money, that the HISPANIOLA + belonged to him, and that he sold it me absurdly + high--the most transparent calumnies. None of them + dare, however, to deny the merits of the ship. + + So far there was not a hitch. The + workpeople, to be sure--riggers and what not--were + most annoyingly slow; but time cured that. It was + the crew that troubled me. + + I wished a round score of men--in case of + natives, buccaneers, or the odious French--and I + had the worry of the deuce itself to find so much + as half a dozen, till the most remarkable stroke + of fortune brought me the very man that I + required. + + I was standing on the dock, when, by the + merest accident, I fell in talk with him. I found + he was an old sailor, kept a public-house, knew + all the seafaring men in Bristol, had lost his + health ashore, and wanted a good berth as cook to + get to sea again. He had hobbled down there that + morning, he said, to get a smell of the salt. + + I was monstrously touched--so would you have + been--and, out of pure pity, I engaged him on the + spot to be ship’s cook. Long John Silver, he is + called, and has lost a leg; but that I regarded as + a recommendation, since he lost it in his + country’s service, under the immortal Hawke. He + has no pension, Livesey. Imagine the abominable + age we live in! + + Well, sir, I thought I had only found a cook, + but it was a crew I had discovered. Between + Silver and myself we got together in a few days a + company of the toughest old salts imaginable--not + pretty to look at, but fellows, by their faces, of + the most indomitable spirit. I declare we could + fight a frigate. + + Long John even got rid of two out of the six + or seven I had already engaged. He showed me in a + moment that they were just the sort of fresh-water + swabs we had to fear in an adventure of + importance. + + I am in the most magnificent health and + spirits, eating like a bull, sleeping like a tree, + yet I shall not enjoy a moment till I hear my old + tarpaulins tramping round the capstan. Seaward, + ho! Hang the treasure! It’s the glory of the sea + that has turned my head. So now, Livesey, come + post; do not lose an hour, if you respect me. + + Let young Hawkins go at once to see his + mother, with Redruth for a guard; and then both + come full speed to Bristol. + John Trelawney + + Postscript--I did not tell you that Blandly, + who, by the way, is to send a consort after us if + we don’t turn up by the end of August, had found + an admirable fellow for sailing master--a stiff + man, which I regret, but in all other respects a + treasure. Long John Silver unearthed a very + competent man for a mate, a man named Arrow. I + have a boatswain who pipes, Livesey; so things + shall go man-o’-war fashion on board the good ship + HISPANIOLA. + + I forgot to tell you that Silver is a man of + substance; I know of my own knowledge that he has + a banker’s account, which has never been + overdrawn. He leaves his wife to manage the inn; + and as she is a woman of colour, a pair of old + bachelors like you and I may be excused for + guessing that it is the wife, quite as much as the + health, that sends him back to roving. + J. T. + + P.P.S.--Hawkins may stay one night with his + mother. + J. T. + +You can fancy the excitement into which that letter put me. I was half +beside myself with glee; and if ever I despised a man, it was old +Tom Redruth, who could do nothing but grumble and lament. Any of the +under-gamekeepers would gladly have changed places with him; but such +was not the squire’s pleasure, and the squire’s pleasure was like law +among them all. Nobody but old Redruth would have dared so much as even +to grumble. + +The next morning he and I set out on foot for the Admiral Benbow, and +there I found my mother in good health and spirits. The captain, who had +so long been a cause of so much discomfort, was gone where the wicked +cease from troubling. The squire had had everything repaired, and the +public rooms and the sign repainted, and had added some furniture--above +all a beautiful armchair for mother in the bar. He had found her a boy +as an apprentice also so that she should not want help while I was gone. + +It was on seeing that boy that I understood, for the first time, my +situation. I had thought up to that moment of the adventures before me, +not at all of the home that I was leaving; and now, at sight of this +clumsy stranger, who was to stay here in my place beside my mother, I +had my first attack of tears. I am afraid I led that boy a dog’s life, +for as he was new to the work, I had a hundred opportunities of setting +him right and putting him down, and I was not slow to profit by them. + +The night passed, and the next day, after dinner, Redruth and I were +afoot again and on the road. I said good-bye to Mother and the +cove where I had lived since I was born, and the dear old Admiral +Benbow--since he was repainted, no longer quite so dear. One of my last +thoughts was of the captain, who had so often strode along the beach +with his cocked hat, his sabre-cut cheek, and his old brass telescope. +Next moment we had turned the corner and my home was out of sight. + +The mail picked us up about dusk at the Royal George on the heath. I was +wedged in between Redruth and a stout old gentleman, and in spite of the +swift motion and the cold night air, I must have dozed a great deal from +the very first, and then slept like a log up hill and down dale through +stage after stage, for when I was awakened at last it was by a punch +in the ribs, and I opened my eyes to find that we were standing still +before a large building in a city street and that the day had already +broken a long time. + +“Where are we?” I asked. + +“Bristol,” said Tom. “Get down.” + +Mr. Trelawney had taken up his residence at an inn far down the docks to +superintend the work upon the schooner. Thither we had now to walk, and +our way, to my great delight, lay along the quays and beside the great +multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. In one, sailors +were singing at their work, in another there were men aloft, high over +my head, hanging to threads that seemed no thicker than a spider’s. +Though I had lived by the shore all my life, I seemed never to have been +near the sea till then. The smell of tar and salt was something new. +I saw the most wonderful figureheads, that had all been far over the +ocean. I saw, besides, many old sailors, with rings in their ears, and +whiskers curled in ringlets, and tarry pigtails, and their swaggering, +clumsy sea-walk; and if I had seen as many kings or archbishops I could +not have been more delighted. + +And I was going to sea myself, to sea in a schooner, with a piping +boatswain and pig-tailed singing seamen, to sea, bound for an unknown +island, and to seek for buried treasure! + +While I was still in this delightful dream, we came suddenly in front +of a large inn and met Squire Trelawney, all dressed out like a +sea-officer, in stout blue cloth, coming out of the door with a smile on +his face and a capital imitation of a sailor’s walk. + +“Here you are,” he cried, “and the doctor came last night from London. +Bravo! The ship’s company complete!” + +“Oh, sir,” cried I, “when do we sail?” + +“Sail!” says he. “We sail tomorrow!” + + + + +8 + +At the Sign of the Spy-glass + +WHEN I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a note addressed to John +Silver, at the sign of the Spy-glass, and told me I should easily +find the place by following the line of the docks and keeping a bright +lookout for a little tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. I +set off, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of the ships and +seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd of people and carts and +bales, for the dock was now at its busiest, until I found the tavern in +question. + +It was a bright enough little place of entertainment. The sign was +newly painted; the windows had neat red curtains; the floor was cleanly +sanded. There was a street on each side and an open door on both, which +made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite of clouds of +tobacco smoke. + +The customers were mostly seafaring men, and they talked so loudly that +I hung at the door, almost afraid to enter. + +As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and at a glance I was +sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, +and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with +wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall +and strong, with a face as big as a ham--plain and pale, but intelligent +and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling +as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a slap on the +shoulder for the more favoured of his guests. + +Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first mention of Long John in +Squire Trelawney’s letter I had taken a fear in my mind that he might +prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long at +the old Benbow. But one look at the man before me was enough. I had seen +the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man, Pew, and I thought I knew +what a buccaneer was like--a very different creature, according to me, +from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord. + +I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and walked right up +to the man where he stood, propped on his crutch, talking to a customer. + +“Mr. Silver, sir?” I asked, holding out the note. + +“Yes, my lad,” said he; “such is my name, to be sure. And who may you +be?” And then as he saw the squire’s letter, he seemed to me to give +something almost like a start. + +“Oh!” said he, quite loud, and offering his hand. “I see. You are our +new cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you.” + +And he took my hand in his large firm grasp. + +Just then one of the customers at the far side rose suddenly and made +for the door. It was close by him, and he was out in the street in a +moment. But his hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognized him at +glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two fingers, who had come +first to the Admiral Benbow. + +“Oh,” I cried, “stop him! It’s Black Dog!” + +“I don’t care two coppers who he is,” cried Silver. “But he hasn’t paid +his score. Harry, run and catch him.” + +One of the others who was nearest the door leaped up and started in +pursuit. + +“If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score,” cried Silver; and +then, relinquishing my hand, “Who did you say he was?” he asked. “Black +what?” + +“Dog, sir,” said I. “Has Mr. Trelawney not told you of the buccaneers? +He was one of them.” + +“So?” cried Silver. “In my house! Ben, run and help Harry. One of those +swabs, was he? Was that you drinking with him, Morgan? Step up here.” + +The man whom he called Morgan--an old, grey-haired, mahogany-faced +sailor--came forward pretty sheepishly, rolling his quid. + +“Now, Morgan,” said Long John very sternly, “you never clapped your eyes +on that Black--Black Dog before, did you, now?” + +“Not I, sir,” said Morgan with a salute. + +“You didn’t know his name, did you?” + +“No, sir.” + +“By the powers, Tom Morgan, it’s as good for you!” exclaimed the +landlord. “If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would +never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what +was he saying to you?” + +“I don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Morgan. + +“Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?” + cried Long John. “Don’t rightly know, don’t you! Perhaps you don’t +happen to rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come, now, what +was he jawing--v’yages, cap’ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?” + +“We was a-talkin’ of keel-hauling,” answered Morgan. + +“Keel-hauling, was you? And a mighty suitable thing, too, and you may +lay to that. Get back to your place for a lubber, Tom.” + +And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver added to me in a +confidential whisper that was very flattering, as I thought, “He’s +quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on’y stupid. And now,” he ran on again, +aloud, “let’s see--Black Dog? No, I don’t know the name, not I. Yet I +kind of think I’ve--yes, I’ve seen the swab. He used to come here with a +blind beggar, he used.” + +“That he did, you may be sure,” said I. “I knew that blind man too. His +name was Pew.” + +“It was!” cried Silver, now quite excited. “Pew! That were his name for +certain. Ah, he looked a shark, he did! If we run down this Black Dog, +now, there’ll be news for Cap’n Trelawney! Ben’s a good runner; few +seamen run better than Ben. He should run him down, hand over hand, by +the powers! He talked o’ keel-hauling, did he? I’LL keel-haul him!” + +All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was stumping up and +down the tavern on his crutch, slapping tables with his hand, and giving +such a show of excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge +or a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had been thoroughly reawakened on +finding Black Dog at the Spy-glass, and I watched the cook narrowly. But +he was too deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the time +the two men had come back out of breath and confessed that they had lost +the track in a crowd, and been scolded like thieves, I would have gone +bail for the innocence of Long John Silver. + +“See here, now, Hawkins,” said he, “here’s a blessed hard thing on a +man like me, now, ain’t it? There’s Cap’n Trelawney--what’s he to think? +Here I have this confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house +drinking of my own rum! Here you comes and tells me of it plain; and +here I let him give us all the slip before my blessed deadlights! Now, +Hawkins, you do me justice with the cap’n. You’re a lad, you are, but +you’re as smart as paint. I see that when you first come in. Now, here +it is: What could I do, with this old timber I hobble on? When I was an +A B master mariner I’d have come up alongside of him, hand over hand, +and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I would; but now--” + +And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw dropped as though he +had remembered something. + +“The score!” he burst out. “Three goes o’ rum! Why, shiver my timbers, +if I hadn’t forgotten my score!” + +And falling on a bench, he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. +I could not help joining, and we laughed together, peal after peal, +until the tavern rang again. + +“Why, what a precious old sea-calf I am!” he said at last, wiping his +cheeks. “You and me should get on well, Hawkins, for I’ll take my davy +I should be rated ship’s boy. But come now, stand by to go about. This +won’t do. Dooty is dooty, messmates. I’ll put on my old cockerel hat, +and step along of you to Cap’n Trelawney, and report this here affair. +For mind you, it’s serious, young Hawkins; and neither you nor me’s come +out of it with what I should make so bold as to call credit. Nor you +neither, says you; not smart--none of the pair of us smart. But dash my +buttons! That was a good un about my score.” + +And he began to laugh again, and that so heartily, that though I did not +see the joke as he did, I was again obliged to join him in his mirth. + +On our little walk along the quays, he made himself the most interesting +companion, telling me about the different ships that we passed by, +their rig, tonnage, and nationality, explaining the work that was going +forward--how one was discharging, another taking in cargo, and a third +making ready for sea--and every now and then telling me some little +anecdote of ships or seamen or repeating a nautical phrase till I had +learned it perfectly. I began to see that here was one of the best of +possible shipmates. + +When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey were seated together, +finishing a quart of ale with a toast in it, before they should go +aboard the schooner on a visit of inspection. + +Long John told the story from first to last, with a great deal of spirit +and the most perfect truth. “That was how it were, now, weren’t it, +Hawkins?” he would say, now and again, and I could always bear him +entirely out. + +The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had got away, but we all +agreed there was nothing to be done, and after he had been complimented, +Long John took up his crutch and departed. + +“All hands aboard by four this afternoon,” shouted the squire after him. + +“Aye, aye, sir,” cried the cook, in the passage. + +“Well, squire,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t put much faith in your +discoveries, as a general thing; but I will say this, John Silver suits +me.” + +“The man’s a perfect trump,” declared the squire. + +“And now,” added the doctor, “Jim may come on board with us, may he +not?” + +“To be sure he may,” says squire. “Take your hat, Hawkins, and we’ll see +the ship.” + + + + +9 + +Powder and Arms + +THE HISPANIOLA lay some way out, and we went under the figureheads and +round the sterns of many other ships, and their cables sometimes grated +underneath our keel, and sometimes swung above us. At last, however, +we got alongside, and were met and saluted as we stepped aboard by the +mate, Mr. Arrow, a brown old sailor with earrings in his ears and a +squint. He and the squire were very thick and friendly, but I soon +observed that things were not the same between Mr. Trelawney and the +captain. + +This last was a sharp-looking man who seemed angry with everything on +board and was soon to tell us why, for we had hardly got down into the +cabin when a sailor followed us. + +“Captain Smollett, sir, axing to speak with you,” said he. + +“I am always at the captain’s orders. Show him in,” said the squire. + +The captain, who was close behind his messenger, entered at once and +shut the door behind him. + +“Well, Captain Smollett, what have you to say? All well, I hope; all +shipshape and seaworthy?” + +“Well, sir,” said the captain, “better speak plain, I believe, even at +the risk of offence. I don’t like this cruise; I don’t like the men; and +I don’t like my officer. That’s short and sweet.” + +“Perhaps, sir, you don’t like the ship?” inquired the squire, very +angry, as I could see. + +“I can’t speak as to that, sir, not having seen her tried,” said the +captain. “She seems a clever craft; more I can’t say.” + +“Possibly, sir, you may not like your employer, either?” says the +squire. + +But here Dr. Livesey cut in. + +“Stay a bit,” said he, “stay a bit. No use of such questions as that but +to produce ill feeling. The captain has said too much or he has said too +little, and I’m bound to say that I require an explanation of his words. +You don’t, you say, like this cruise. Now, why?” + +“I was engaged, sir, on what we call sealed orders, to sail this ship +for that gentleman where he should bid me,” said the captain. “So far +so good. But now I find that every man before the mast knows more than I +do. I don’t call that fair, now, do you?” + +“No,” said Dr. Livesey, “I don’t.” + +“Next,” said the captain, “I learn we are going after treasure--hear +it from my own hands, mind you. Now, treasure is ticklish work; I don’t +like treasure voyages on any account, and I don’t like them, above all, +when they are secret and when (begging your pardon, Mr. Trelawney) the +secret has been told to the parrot.” + +“Silver’s parrot?” asked the squire. + +“It’s a way of speaking,” said the captain. “Blabbed, I mean. It’s my +belief neither of you gentlemen know what you are about, but I’ll tell +you my way of it--life or death, and a close run.” + +“That is all clear, and, I dare say, true enough,” replied Dr. Livesey. +“We take the risk, but we are not so ignorant as you believe us. Next, +you say you don’t like the crew. Are they not good seamen?” + +“I don’t like them, sir,” returned Captain Smollett. “And I think I +should have had the choosing of my own hands, if you go to that.” + +“Perhaps you should,” replied the doctor. “My friend should, perhaps, +have taken you along with him; but the slight, if there be one, was +unintentional. And you don’t like Mr. Arrow?” + +“I don’t, sir. I believe he’s a good seaman, but he’s too free with +the crew to be a good officer. A mate should keep himself to +himself--shouldn’t drink with the men before the mast!” + +“Do you mean he drinks?” cried the squire. + +“No, sir,” replied the captain, “only that he’s too familiar.” + +“Well, now, and the short and long of it, captain?” asked the doctor. +“Tell us what you want.” + +“Well, gentlemen, are you determined to go on this cruise?” + +“Like iron,” answered the squire. + +“Very good,” said the captain. “Then, as you’ve heard me very patiently, +saying things that I could not prove, hear me a few words more. They are +putting the powder and the arms in the fore hold. Now, you have a good +place under the cabin; why not put them there?--first point. Then, you +are bringing four of your own people with you, and they tell me some of +them are to be berthed forward. Why not give them the berths here beside +the cabin?--second point.” + +“Any more?” asked Mr. Trelawney. + +“One more,” said the captain. “There’s been too much blabbing already.” + +“Far too much,” agreed the doctor. + +“I’ll tell you what I’ve heard myself,” continued Captain Smollett: +“that you have a map of an island, that there’s crosses on the map to +show where treasure is, and that the island lies--” And then he named +the latitude and longitude exactly. + +“I never told that,” cried the squire, “to a soul!” + +“The hands know it, sir,” returned the captain. + +“Livesey, that must have been you or Hawkins,” cried the squire. + +“It doesn’t much matter who it was,” replied the doctor. And I could +see that neither he nor the captain paid much regard to Mr. Trelawney’s +protestations. Neither did I, to be sure, he was so loose a talker; yet +in this case I believe he was really right and that nobody had told the +situation of the island. + +“Well, gentlemen,” continued the captain, “I don’t know who has this +map; but I make it a point, it shall be kept secret even from me and Mr. +Arrow. Otherwise I would ask you to let me resign.” + +“I see,” said the doctor. “You wish us to keep this matter dark and to +make a garrison of the stern part of the ship, manned with my friend’s +own people, and provided with all the arms and powder on board. In other +words, you fear a mutiny.” + +“Sir,” said Captain Smollett, “with no intention to take offence, I +deny your right to put words into my mouth. No captain, sir, would be +justified in going to sea at all if he had ground enough to say that. As +for Mr. Arrow, I believe him thoroughly honest; some of the men are the +same; all may be for what I know. But I am responsible for the ship’s +safety and the life of every man Jack aboard of her. I see things going, +as I think, not quite right. And I ask you to take certain precautions +or let me resign my berth. And that’s all.” + +“Captain Smollett,” began the doctor with a smile, “did ever you hear +the fable of the mountain and the mouse? You’ll excuse me, I dare say, +but you remind me of that fable. When you came in here, I’ll stake my +wig, you meant more than this.” + +“Doctor,” said the captain, “you are smart. When I came in here I meant +to get discharged. I had no thought that Mr. Trelawney would hear a +word.” + +“No more I would,” cried the squire. “Had Livesey not been here I should +have seen you to the deuce. As it is, I have heard you. I will do as you +desire, but I think the worse of you.” + +“That’s as you please, sir,” said the captain. “You’ll find I do my +duty.” + +And with that he took his leave. + +“Trelawney,” said the doctor, “contrary to all my notions, I believed +you have managed to get two honest men on board with you--that man and +John Silver.” + +“Silver, if you like,” cried the squire; “but as for that intolerable +humbug, I declare I think his conduct unmanly, unsailorly, and downright +un-English.” + +“Well,” says the doctor, “we shall see.” + +When we came on deck, the men had begun already to take out the arms and +powder, yo-ho-ing at their work, while the captain and Mr. Arrow stood +by superintending. + +The new arrangement was quite to my liking. The whole schooner had been +overhauled; six berths had been made astern out of what had been the +after-part of the main hold; and this set of cabins was only joined to +the galley and forecastle by a sparred passage on the port side. It had +been originally meant that the captain, Mr. Arrow, Hunter, Joyce, the +doctor, and the squire were to occupy these six berths. Now Redruth and +I were to get two of them and Mr. Arrow and the captain were to sleep +on deck in the companion, which had been enlarged on each side till you +might almost have called it a round-house. Very low it was still, of +course; but there was room to swing two hammocks, and even the mate +seemed pleased with the arrangement. Even he, perhaps, had been doubtful +as to the crew, but that is only guess, for as you shall hear, we had +not long the benefit of his opinion. + +We were all hard at work, changing the powder and the berths, when +the last man or two, and Long John along with them, came off in a +shore-boat. + +The cook came up the side like a monkey for cleverness, and as soon as +he saw what was doing, “So ho, mates!” says he. “What’s this?” + +“We’re a-changing of the powder, Jack,” answers one. + +“Why, by the powers,” cried Long John, “if we do, we’ll miss the morning +tide!” + +“My orders!” said the captain shortly. “You may go below, my man. Hands +will want supper.” + +“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the cook, and touching his forelock, he +disappeared at once in the direction of his galley. + +“That’s a good man, captain,” said the doctor. + +“Very likely, sir,” replied Captain Smollett. “Easy with that, +men--easy,” he ran on, to the fellows who were shifting the powder; and +then suddenly observing me examining the swivel we carried amidships, +a long brass nine, “Here you, ship’s boy,” he cried, “out o’ that! Off +with you to the cook and get some work.” + +And then as I was hurrying off I heard him say, quite loudly, to the +doctor, “I’ll have no favourites on my ship.” + +I assure you I was quite of the squire’s way of thinking, and hated the +captain deeply. + + + + +10 + +The Voyage + +ALL that night we were in a great bustle getting things stowed in their +place, and boatfuls of the squire’s friends, Mr. Blandly and the like, +coming off to wish him a good voyage and a safe return. We never had +a night at the Admiral Benbow when I had half the work; and I was +dog-tired when, a little before dawn, the boatswain sounded his pipe +and the crew began to man the capstan-bars. I might have been twice +as weary, yet I would not have left the deck, all was so new and +interesting to me--the brief commands, the shrill note of the whistle, +the men bustling to their places in the glimmer of the ship’s lanterns. + +“Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave,” cried one voice. + +“The old one,” cried another. + +“Aye, aye, mates,” said Long John, who was standing by, with his crutch +under his arm, and at once broke out in the air and words I knew so +well: + +“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest--” + +And then the whole crew bore chorus:-- + +“Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +And at the third “Ho!” drove the bars before them with a will. + +Even at that exciting moment it carried me back to the old Admiral +Benbow in a second, and I seemed to hear the voice of the captain piping +in the chorus. But soon the anchor was short up; soon it was hanging +dripping at the bows; soon the sails began to draw, and the land and +shipping to flit by on either side; and before I could lie down to +snatch an hour of slumber the HISPANIOLA had begun her voyage to the +Isle of Treasure. + +I am not going to relate that voyage in detail. It was fairly +prosperous. The ship proved to be a good ship, the crew were capable +seamen, and the captain thoroughly understood his business. But before +we came the length of Treasure Island, two or three things had happened +which require to be known. + +Mr. Arrow, first of all, turned out even worse than the captain had +feared. He had no command among the men, and people did what they +pleased with him. But that was by no means the worst of it, for after a +day or two at sea he began to appear on deck with hazy eye, red cheeks, +stuttering tongue, and other marks of drunkenness. Time after time +he was ordered below in disgrace. Sometimes he fell and cut himself; +sometimes he lay all day long in his little bunk at one side of the +companion; sometimes for a day or two he would be almost sober and +attend to his work at least passably. + +In the meantime, we could never make out where he got the drink. That +was the ship’s mystery. Watch him as we pleased, we could do nothing to +solve it; and when we asked him to his face, he would only laugh if +he were drunk, and if he were sober deny solemnly that he ever tasted +anything but water. + +He was not only useless as an officer and a bad influence amongst +the men, but it was plain that at this rate he must soon kill himself +outright, so nobody was much surprised, nor very sorry, when one dark +night, with a head sea, he disappeared entirely and was seen no more. + +“Overboard!” said the captain. “Well, gentlemen, that saves the trouble +of putting him in irons.” + +But there we were, without a mate; and it was necessary, of course, to +advance one of the men. The boatswain, Job Anderson, was the likeliest +man aboard, and though he kept his old title, he served in a way as +mate. Mr. Trelawney had followed the sea, and his knowledge made him +very useful, for he often took a watch himself in easy weather. And the +coxswain, Israel Hands, was a careful, wily, old, experienced seaman who +could be trusted at a pinch with almost anything. + +He was a great confidant of Long John Silver, and so the mention of +his name leads me on to speak of our ship’s cook, Barbecue, as the men +called him. + +Aboard ship he carried his crutch by a lanyard round his neck, to have +both hands as free as possible. It was something to see him wedge the +foot of the crutch against a bulkhead, and propped against it, yielding +to every movement of the ship, get on with his cooking like someone safe +ashore. Still more strange was it to see him in the heaviest of weather +cross the deck. He had a line or two rigged up to help him across the +widest spaces--Long John’s earrings, they were called; and he would hand +himself from one place to another, now using the crutch, now trailing it +alongside by the lanyard, as quickly as another man could walk. Yet some +of the men who had sailed with him before expressed their pity to see +him so reduced. + +“He’s no common man, Barbecue,” said the coxswain to me. “He had good +schooling in his young days and can speak like a book when so minded; +and brave--a lion’s nothing alongside of Long John! I seen him grapple +four and knock their heads together--him unarmed.” + +All the crew respected and even obeyed him. He had a way of talking +to each and doing everybody some particular service. To me he was +unweariedly kind, and always glad to see me in the galley, which he kept +as clean as a new pin, the dishes hanging up burnished and his parrot in +a cage in one corner. + +“Come away, Hawkins,” he would say; “come and have a yarn with John. +Nobody more welcome than yourself, my son. Sit you down and hear the +news. Here’s Cap’n Flint--I calls my parrot Cap’n Flint, after the +famous buccaneer--here’s Cap’n Flint predicting success to our v’yage. +Wasn’t you, cap’n?” + +And the parrot would say, with great rapidity, “Pieces of eight! Pieces +of eight! Pieces of eight!” till you wondered that it was not out of +breath, or till John threw his handkerchief over the cage. + +“Now, that bird,” he would say, “is, maybe, two hundred years +old, Hawkins--they live forever mostly; and if anybody’s seen more +wickedness, it must be the devil himself. She’s sailed with England, +the great Cap’n England, the pirate. She’s been at Madagascar, and at +Malabar, and Surinam, and Providence, and Portobello. She was at the +fishing up of the wrecked plate ships. It’s there she learned ‘Pieces +of eight,’ and little wonder; three hundred and fifty thousand of ’em, +Hawkins! She was at the boarding of the viceroy of the Indies out of +Goa, she was; and to look at her you would think she was a babby. But +you smelt powder--didn’t you, cap’n?” + +“Stand by to go about,” the parrot would scream. + +“Ah, she’s a handsome craft, she is,” the cook would say, and give her +sugar from his pocket, and then the bird would peck at the bars and +swear straight on, passing belief for wickedness. “There,” John would +add, “you can’t touch pitch and not be mucked, lad. Here’s this poor old +innocent bird o’ mine swearing blue fire, and none the wiser, you may +lay to that. She would swear the same, in a manner of speaking, before +chaplain.” And John would touch his forelock with a solemn way he had +that made me think he was the best of men. + +In the meantime, the squire and Captain Smollett were still on pretty +distant terms with one another. The squire made no bones about the +matter; he despised the captain. The captain, on his part, never spoke +but when he was spoken to, and then sharp and short and dry, and not a +word wasted. He owned, when driven into a corner, that he seemed to have +been wrong about the crew, that some of them were as brisk as he wanted +to see and all had behaved fairly well. As for the ship, he had taken a +downright fancy to her. “She’ll lie a point nearer the wind than a man +has a right to expect of his own married wife, sir. But,” he would add, +“all I say is, we’re not home again, and I don’t like the cruise.” + +The squire, at this, would turn away and march up and down the deck, +chin in air. + +“A trifle more of that man,” he would say, “and I shall explode.” + +We had some heavy weather, which only proved the qualities of the +HISPANIOLA. Every man on board seemed well content, and they must have +been hard to please if they had been otherwise, for it is my belief +there was never a ship’s company so spoiled since Noah put to sea. +Double grog was going on the least excuse; there was duff on odd days, +as, for instance, if the squire heard it was any man’s birthday, and +always a barrel of apples standing broached in the waist for anyone to +help himself that had a fancy. + +“Never knew good come of it yet,” the captain said to Dr. Livesey. +“Spoil forecastle hands, make devils. That’s my belief.” + +But good did come of the apple barrel, as you shall hear, for if it had +not been for that, we should have had no note of warning and might all +have perished by the hand of treachery. + +This was how it came about. + +We had run up the trades to get the wind of the island we were after--I +am not allowed to be more plain--and now we were running down for it +with a bright lookout day and night. It was about the last day of our +outward voyage by the largest computation; some time that night, or at +latest before noon of the morrow, we should sight the Treasure Island. +We were heading S.S.W. and had a steady breeze abeam and a quiet sea. +The HISPANIOLA rolled steadily, dipping her bowsprit now and then with +a whiff of spray. All was drawing alow and aloft; everyone was in the +bravest spirits because we were now so near an end of the first part of +our adventure. + +Now, just after sundown, when all my work was over and I was on my way +to my berth, it occurred to me that I should like an apple. I ran on +deck. The watch was all forward looking out for the island. The man at +the helm was watching the luff of the sail and whistling away gently +to himself, and that was the only sound excepting the swish of the sea +against the bows and around the sides of the ship. + +In I got bodily into the apple barrel, and found there was scarce an +apple left; but sitting down there in the dark, what with the sound of +the waters and the rocking movement of the ship, I had either fallen +asleep or was on the point of doing so when a heavy man sat down with +rather a clash close by. The barrel shook as he leaned his shoulders +against it, and I was just about to jump up when the man began to speak. +It was Silver’s voice, and before I had heard a dozen words, I would +not have shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling and +listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity, for from these dozen +words I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended +upon me alone. + + + + +11 + +What I Heard in the Apple Barrel + +“NO, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was quartermaster, along +of my timber leg. The same broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his +deadlights. It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me--out of +college and all--Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged +like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That +was Roberts’ men, that was, and comed of changing names to their +ships--ROYAL FORTUNE and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let +her stay, I says. So it was with the CASSANDRA, as brought us all safe +home from Malabar, after England took the viceroy of the Indies; so it +was with the old WALRUS, Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen amuck with the +red blood and fit to sink with gold.” + +“Ah!” cried another voice, that of the youngest hand on board, and +evidently full of admiration. “He was the flower of the flock, was +Flint!” + +“Davis was a man too, by all accounts,” said Silver. “I never sailed +along of him; first with England, then with Flint, that’s my story; +and now here on my own account, in a manner of speaking. I laid by nine +hundred safe, from England, and two thousand after Flint. That ain’t bad +for a man before the mast--all safe in bank. ’Tain’t earning now, it’s +saving does it, you may lay to that. Where’s all England’s men now? I +dunno. Where’s Flint’s? Why, most on ’em aboard here, and glad to get +the duff--been begging before that, some on ’em. Old Pew, as had lost +his sight, and might have thought shame, spends twelve hundred pound in +a year, like a lord in Parliament. Where is he now? Well, he’s dead now +and under hatches; but for two year before that, shiver my timbers, +the man was starving! He begged, and he stole, and he cut throats, and +starved at that, by the powers!” + +“Well, it ain’t much use, after all,” said the young seaman. + +“’Tain’t much use for fools, you may lay to it--that, nor nothing,” + cried Silver. “But now, you look here: you’re young, you are, but you’re +as smart as paint. I see that when I set my eyes on you, and I’ll talk +to you like a man.” + +You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abominable old rogue +addressing another in the very same words of flattery as he had used +to myself. I think, if I had been able, that I would have killed +him through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little supposing he was +overheard. + +“Here it is about gentlemen of fortune. They lives rough, and they risk +swinging, but they eat and drink like fighting-cocks, and when a cruise +is done, why, it’s hundreds of pounds instead of hundreds of farthings +in their pockets. Now, the most goes for rum and a good fling, and to +sea again in their shirts. But that’s not the course I lay. I puts it +all away, some here, some there, and none too much anywheres, by reason +of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you; once back from this cruise, I set up +gentleman in earnest. Time enough too, says you. Ah, but I’ve lived easy +in the meantime, never denied myself o’ nothing heart desires, and slep’ +soft and ate dainty all my days but when at sea. And how did I begin? +Before the mast, like you!” + +“Well,” said the other, “but all the other money’s gone now, ain’t it? +You daren’t show face in Bristol after this.” + +“Why, where might you suppose it was?” asked Silver derisively. + +“At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his companion. + +“It were,” said the cook; “it were when we weighed anchor. But my old +missis has it all by now. And the Spy-glass is sold, lease and goodwill +and rigging; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would tell you where, +for I trust you, but it’d make jealousy among the mates.” + +“And can you trust your missis?” asked the other. + +“Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “usually trusts little among +themselves, and right they are, you may lay to it. But I have a way with +me, I have. When a mate brings a slip on his cable--one as knows me, I +mean--it won’t be in the same world with old John. There was some that +was feared of Pew, and some that was feared of Flint; but Flint his own +self was feared of me. Feared he was, and proud. They was the roughest +crew afloat, was Flint’s; the devil himself would have been feared to go +to sea with them. Well now, I tell you, I’m not a boasting man, and you +seen yourself how easy I keep company, but when I was quartermaster, +LAMBS wasn’t the word for Flint’s old buccaneers. Ah, you may be sure of +yourself in old John’s ship.” + +“Well, I tell you now,” replied the lad, “I didn’t half a quarter like +the job till I had this talk with you, John; but there’s my hand on it +now.” + +“And a brave lad you were, and smart too,” answered Silver, shaking +hands so heartily that all the barrel shook, “and a finer figurehead for +a gentleman of fortune I never clapped my eyes on.” + +By this time I had begun to understand the meaning of their terms. By a +“gentleman of fortune” they plainly meant neither more nor less than a +common pirate, and the little scene that I had overheard was the last +act in the corruption of one of the honest hands--perhaps of the last +one left aboard. But on this point I was soon to be relieved, for Silver +giving a little whistle, a third man strolled up and sat down by the +party. + +“Dick’s square,” said Silver. + +“Oh, I know’d Dick was square,” returned the voice of the coxswain, +Israel Hands. “He’s no fool, is Dick.” And he turned his quid and spat. +“But look here,” he went on, “here’s what I want to know, Barbecue: how +long are we a-going to stand off and on like a blessed bumboat? I’ve had +a’most enough o’ Cap’n Smollett; he’s hazed me long enough, by thunder! +I want to go into that cabin, I do. I want their pickles and wines, and +that.” + +“Israel,” said Silver, “your head ain’t much account, nor ever was. But +you’re able to hear, I reckon; leastways, your ears is big enough. +Now, here’s what I say: you’ll berth forward, and you’ll live hard, and +you’ll speak soft, and you’ll keep sober till I give the word; and you +may lay to that, my son.” + +“Well, I don’t say no, do I?” growled the coxswain. “What I say is, +when? That’s what I say.” + +“When! By the powers!” cried Silver. “Well now, if you want to know, +I’ll tell you when. The last moment I can manage, and that’s when. +Here’s a first-rate seaman, Cap’n Smollett, sails the blessed ship for +us. Here’s this squire and doctor with a map and such--I don’t know +where it is, do I? No more do you, says you. Well then, I mean this +squire and doctor shall find the stuff, and help us to get it aboard, +by the powers. Then we’ll see. If I was sure of you all, sons of double +Dutchmen, I’d have Cap’n Smollett navigate us half-way back again before +I struck.” + +“Why, we’re all seamen aboard here, I should think,” said the lad Dick. + +“We’re all forecastle hands, you mean,” snapped Silver. “We can steer +a course, but who’s to set one? That’s what all you gentlemen split on, +first and last. If I had my way, I’d have Cap’n Smollett work us back +into the trades at least; then we’d have no blessed miscalculations and +a spoonful of water a day. But I know the sort you are. I’ll finish with +’em at the island, as soon’s the blunt’s on board, and a pity it is. But +you’re never happy till you’re drunk. Split my sides, I’ve a sick heart +to sail with the likes of you!” + +“Easy all, Long John,” cried Israel. “Who’s a-crossin’ of you?” + +“Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I seen laid aboard? And +how many brisk lads drying in the sun at Execution Dock?” cried Silver. +“And all for this same hurry and hurry and hurry. You hear me? I seen +a thing or two at sea, I have. If you would on’y lay your course, and a +p’int to windward, you would ride in carriages, you would. But not you! +I know you. You’ll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang.” + +“Everybody knowed you was a kind of a chapling, John; but there’s others +as could hand and steer as well as you,” said Israel. “They liked a bit +o’ fun, they did. They wasn’t so high and dry, nohow, but took their +fling, like jolly companions every one.” + +“So?” says Silver. “Well, and where are they now? Pew was that sort, +and he died a beggar-man. Flint was, and he died of rum at Savannah. Ah, +they was a sweet crew, they was! On’y, where are they?” + +“But,” asked Dick, “when we do lay ’em athwart, what are we to do with +’em, anyhow?” + +“There’s the man for me!” cried the cook admiringly. “That’s what I call +business. Well, what would you think? Put ’em ashore like maroons? That +would have been England’s way. Or cut ’em down like that much pork? That +would have been Flint’s, or Billy Bones’s.” + +“Billy was the man for that,” said Israel. “‘Dead men don’t bite,’ says +he. Well, he’s dead now hisself; he knows the long and short on it now; +and if ever a rough hand come to port, it was Billy.” + +“Right you are,” said Silver; “rough and ready. But mark you here, +I’m an easy man--I’m quite the gentleman, says you; but this time it’s +serious. Dooty is dooty, mates. I give my vote--death. When I’m in +Parlyment and riding in my coach, I don’t want none of these sea-lawyers +in the cabin a-coming home, unlooked for, like the devil at prayers. +Wait is what I say; but when the time comes, why, let her rip!” + +“John,” cries the coxswain, “you’re a man!” + +“You’ll say so, Israel when you see,” said Silver. “Only one thing I +claim--I claim Trelawney. I’ll wring his calf’s head off his body with +these hands, Dick!” he added, breaking off. “You just jump up, like a +sweet lad, and get me an apple, to wet my pipe like.” + +You may fancy the terror I was in! I should have leaped out and run for +it if I had found the strength, but my limbs and heart alike misgave me. +I heard Dick begin to rise, and then someone seemingly stopped him, and +the voice of Hands exclaimed, “Oh, stow that! Don’t you get sucking of +that bilge, John. Let’s have a go of the rum.” + +“Dick,” said Silver, “I trust you. I’ve a gauge on the keg, mind. +There’s the key; you fill a pannikin and bring it up.” + +Terrified as I was, I could not help thinking to myself that this must +have been how Mr. Arrow got the strong waters that destroyed him. + +Dick was gone but a little while, and during his absence Israel spoke +straight on in the cook’s ear. It was but a word or two that I could +catch, and yet I gathered some important news, for besides other scraps +that tended to the same purpose, this whole clause was audible: “Not +another man of them’ll jine.” Hence there were still faithful men on +board. + +When Dick returned, one after another of the trio took the pannikin and +drank--one “To luck,” another with a “Here’s to old Flint,” and Silver +himself saying, in a kind of song, “Here’s to ourselves, and hold your +luff, plenty of prizes and plenty of duff.” + +Just then a sort of brightness fell upon me in the barrel, and looking +up, I found the moon had risen and was silvering the mizzen-top and +shining white on the luff of the fore-sail; and almost at the same time +the voice of the lookout shouted, “Land ho!” + + + + +12 + +Council of War + +THERE was a great rush of feet across the deck. I could hear people +tumbling up from the cabin and the forecastle, and slipping in an +instant outside my barrel, I dived behind the fore-sail, made a double +towards the stern, and came out upon the open deck in time to join +Hunter and Dr. Livesey in the rush for the weather bow. + +There all hands were already congregated. A belt of fog had lifted +almost simultaneously with the appearance of the moon. Away to the +south-west of us we saw two low hills, about a couple of miles apart, +and rising behind one of them a third and higher hill, whose peak was +still buried in the fog. All three seemed sharp and conical in figure. + +So much I saw, almost in a dream, for I had not yet recovered from my +horrid fear of a minute or two before. And then I heard the voice of +Captain Smollett issuing orders. The HISPANIOLA was laid a couple of +points nearer the wind and now sailed a course that would just clear the +island on the east. + +“And now, men,” said the captain, when all was sheeted home, “has any +one of you ever seen that land ahead?” + +“I have, sir,” said Silver. “I’ve watered there with a trader I was cook +in.” + +“The anchorage is on the south, behind an islet, I fancy?” asked the +captain. + +“Yes, sir; Skeleton Island they calls it. It were a main place for +pirates once, and a hand we had on board knowed all their names for it. +That hill to the nor’ard they calls the Fore-mast Hill; there are three +hills in a row running south’ard--fore, main, and mizzen, sir. But the +main--that’s the big un, with the cloud on it--they usually calls +the Spy-glass, by reason of a lookout they kept when they was in the +anchorage cleaning, for it’s there they cleaned their ships, sir, asking +your pardon.” + +“I have a chart here,” says Captain Smollett. “See if that’s the place.” + +Long John’s eyes burned in his head as he took the chart, but by the +fresh look of the paper I knew he was doomed to disappointment. This +was not the map we found in Billy Bones’s chest, but an accurate copy, +complete in all things--names and heights and soundings--with the single +exception of the red crosses and the written notes. Sharp as must have +been his annoyance, Silver had the strength of mind to hide it. + +“Yes, sir,” said he, “this is the spot, to be sure, and very prettily +drawed out. Who might have done that, I wonder? The pirates were too +ignorant, I reckon. Aye, here it is: ‘Capt. Kidd’s Anchorage’--just +the name my shipmate called it. There’s a strong current runs along the +south, and then away nor’ard up the west coast. Right you was, sir,” + says he, “to haul your wind and keep the weather of the island. +Leastways, if such was your intention as to enter and careen, and there +ain’t no better place for that in these waters.” + +“Thank you, my man,” says Captain Smollett. “I’ll ask you later on to +give us a help. You may go.” + +I was surprised at the coolness with which John avowed his knowledge +of the island, and I own I was half-frightened when I saw him drawing +nearer to myself. He did not know, to be sure, that I had overheard his +council from the apple barrel, and yet I had by this time taken such a +horror of his cruelty, duplicity, and power that I could scarce conceal +a shudder when he laid his hand upon my arm. + +“Ah,” says he, “this here is a sweet spot, this island--a sweet spot for +a lad to get ashore on. You’ll bathe, and you’ll climb trees, and you’ll +hunt goats, you will; and you’ll get aloft on them hills like a goat +yourself. Why, it makes me young again. I was going to forget my timber +leg, I was. It’s a pleasant thing to be young and have ten toes, and you +may lay to that. When you want to go a bit of exploring, you just ask +old John, and he’ll put up a snack for you to take along.” + +And clapping me in the friendliest way upon the shoulder, he hobbled off +forward and went below. + +Captain Smollett, the squire, and Dr. Livesey were talking together on +the quarter-deck, and anxious as I was to tell them my story, I durst +not interrupt them openly. While I was still casting about in my +thoughts to find some probable excuse, Dr. Livesey called me to his +side. He had left his pipe below, and being a slave to tobacco, had +meant that I should fetch it; but as soon as I was near enough to speak +and not to be overheard, I broke immediately, “Doctor, let me speak. Get +the captain and squire down to the cabin, and then make some pretence to +send for me. I have terrible news.” + +The doctor changed countenance a little, but next moment he was master +of himself. + +“Thank you, Jim,” said he quite loudly, “that was all I wanted to know,” + as if he had asked me a question. + +And with that he turned on his heel and rejoined the other two. They +spoke together for a little, and though none of them started, or raised +his voice, or so much as whistled, it was plain enough that Dr. Livesey +had communicated my request, for the next thing that I heard was the +captain giving an order to Job Anderson, and all hands were piped on +deck. + +“My lads,” said Captain Smollett, “I’ve a word to say to you. This +land that we have sighted is the place we have been sailing for. Mr. +Trelawney, being a very open-handed gentleman, as we all know, has just +asked me a word or two, and as I was able to tell him that every man on +board had done his duty, alow and aloft, as I never ask to see it done +better, why, he and I and the doctor are going below to the cabin to +drink YOUR health and luck, and you’ll have grog served out for you to +drink OUR health and luck. I’ll tell you what I think of this: I think +it handsome. And if you think as I do, you’ll give a good sea-cheer for +the gentleman that does it.” + +The cheer followed--that was a matter of course; but it rang out so full +and hearty that I confess I could hardly believe these same men were +plotting for our blood. + +“One more cheer for Cap’n Smollett,” cried Long John when the first had +subsided. + +And this also was given with a will. + +On the top of that the three gentlemen went below, and not long after, +word was sent forward that Jim Hawkins was wanted in the cabin. + +I found them all three seated round the table, a bottle of Spanish wine +and some raisins before them, and the doctor smoking away, with his wig +on his lap, and that, I knew, was a sign that he was agitated. The stern +window was open, for it was a warm night, and you could see the moon +shining behind on the ship’s wake. + +“Now, Hawkins,” said the squire, “you have something to say. Speak up.” + +I did as I was bid, and as short as I could make it, told the whole +details of Silver’s conversation. Nobody interrupted me till I was done, +nor did any one of the three of them make so much as a movement, but +they kept their eyes upon my face from first to last. + +“Jim,” said Dr. Livesey, “take a seat.” + +And they made me sit down at table beside them, poured me out a glass of +wine, filled my hands with raisins, and all three, one after the other, +and each with a bow, drank my good health, and their service to me, for +my luck and courage. + +“Now, captain,” said the squire, “you were right, and I was wrong. I own +myself an ass, and I await your orders.” + +“No more an ass than I, sir,” returned the captain. “I never heard of a +crew that meant to mutiny but what showed signs before, for any man that +had an eye in his head to see the mischief and take steps according. But +this crew,” he added, “beats me.” + +“Captain,” said the doctor, “with your permission, that’s Silver. A very +remarkable man.” + +“He’d look remarkably well from a yard-arm, sir,” returned the captain. +“But this is talk; this don’t lead to anything. I see three or four +points, and with Mr. Trelawney’s permission, I’ll name them.” + +“You, sir, are the captain. It is for you to speak,” says Mr. Trelawney +grandly. + +“First point,” began Mr. Smollett. “We must go on, because we can’t turn +back. If I gave the word to go about, they would rise at once. Second +point, we have time before us--at least until this treasure’s found. +Third point, there are faithful hands. Now, sir, it’s got to come +to blows sooner or later, and what I propose is to take time by the +forelock, as the saying is, and come to blows some fine day when they +least expect it. We can count, I take it, on your own home servants, Mr. +Trelawney?” + +“As upon myself,” declared the squire. + +“Three,” reckoned the captain; “ourselves make seven, counting Hawkins +here. Now, about the honest hands?” + +“Most likely Trelawney’s own men,” said the doctor; “those he had picked +up for himself before he lit on Silver.” + +“Nay,” replied the squire. “Hands was one of mine.” + +“I did think I could have trusted Hands,” added the captain. + +“And to think that they’re all Englishmen!” broke out the squire. “Sir, +I could find it in my heart to blow the ship up.” + +“Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, “the best that I can say is not +much. We must lay to, if you please, and keep a bright lookout. It’s +trying on a man, I know. It would be pleasanter to come to blows. But +there’s no help for it till we know our men. Lay to, and whistle for a +wind, that’s my view.” + +“Jim here,” said the doctor, “can help us more than anyone. The men are +not shy with him, and Jim is a noticing lad.” + +“Hawkins, I put prodigious faith in you,” added the squire. + +I began to feel pretty desperate at this, for I felt altogether +helpless; and yet, by an odd train of circumstances, it was indeed +through me that safety came. In the meantime, talk as we pleased, there +were only seven out of the twenty-six on whom we knew we could rely; and +out of these seven one was a boy, so that the grown men on our side were +six to their nineteen. + + + + + + +PART THREE--My Shore Adventure + + + + +13 + +How My Shore Adventure Began + +THE appearance of the island when I came on deck next morning was +altogether changed. Although the breeze had now utterly ceased, we had +made a great deal of way during the night and were now lying becalmed +about half a mile to the south-east of the low eastern coast. +Grey-coloured woods covered a large part of the surface. This even tint +was indeed broken up by streaks of yellow sand-break in the lower lands, +and by many tall trees of the pine family, out-topping the others--some +singly, some in clumps; but the general colouring was uniform and sad. +The hills ran up clear above the vegetation in spires of naked rock. +All were strangely shaped, and the Spy-glass, which was by three or four +hundred feet the tallest on the island, was likewise the strangest in +configuration, running up sheer from almost every side and then suddenly +cut off at the top like a pedestal to put a statue on. + +The HISPANIOLA was rolling scuppers under in the ocean swell. The booms +were tearing at the blocks, the rudder was banging to and fro, and the +whole ship creaking, groaning, and jumping like a manufactory. I had +to cling tight to the backstay, and the world turned giddily before my +eyes, for though I was a good enough sailor when there was way on, this +standing still and being rolled about like a bottle was a thing I never +learned to stand without a qualm or so, above all in the morning, on an +empty stomach. + +Perhaps it was this--perhaps it was the look of the island, with its +grey, melancholy woods, and wild stone spires, and the surf that we +could both see and hear foaming and thundering on the steep beach--at +least, although the sun shone bright and hot, and the shore birds were +fishing and crying all around us, and you would have thought anyone +would have been glad to get to land after being so long at sea, my heart +sank, as the saying is, into my boots; and from the first look onward, I +hated the very thought of Treasure Island. + +We had a dreary morning’s work before us, for there was no sign of any +wind, and the boats had to be got out and manned, and the ship warped +three or four miles round the corner of the island and up the narrow +passage to the haven behind Skeleton Island. I volunteered for one of +the boats, where I had, of course, no business. The heat was sweltering, +and the men grumbled fiercely over their work. Anderson was in command +of my boat, and instead of keeping the crew in order, he grumbled as +loud as the worst. + +“Well,” he said with an oath, “it’s not forever.” + +I thought this was a very bad sign, for up to that day the men had gone +briskly and willingly about their business; but the very sight of the +island had relaxed the cords of discipline. + +All the way in, Long John stood by the steersman and conned the ship. +He knew the passage like the palm of his hand, and though the man in the +chains got everywhere more water than was down in the chart, John never +hesitated once. + +“There’s a strong scour with the ebb,” he said, “and this here passage +has been dug out, in a manner of speaking, with a spade.” + +We brought up just where the anchor was in the chart, about a third of +a mile from each shore, the mainland on one side and Skeleton Island on +the other. The bottom was clean sand. The plunge of our anchor sent up +clouds of birds wheeling and crying over the woods, but in less than a +minute they were down again and all was once more silent. + +The place was entirely land-locked, buried in woods, the trees coming +right down to high-water mark, the shores mostly flat, and the hilltops +standing round at a distance in a sort of amphitheatre, one here, one +there. Two little rivers, or rather two swamps, emptied out into this +pond, as you might call it; and the foliage round that part of the shore +had a kind of poisonous brightness. From the ship we could see nothing +of the house or stockade, for they were quite buried among trees; and if +it had not been for the chart on the companion, we might have been the +first that had ever anchored there since the island arose out of the +seas. + +There was not a breath of air moving, nor a sound but that of the +surf booming half a mile away along the beaches and against the rocks +outside. A peculiar stagnant smell hung over the anchorage--a smell of +sodden leaves and rotting tree trunks. I observed the doctor sniffing +and sniffing, like someone tasting a bad egg. + +“I don’t know about treasure,” he said, “but I’ll stake my wig there’s +fever here.” + +If the conduct of the men had been alarming in the boat, it became truly +threatening when they had come aboard. They lay about the deck growling +together in talk. The slightest order was received with a black look and +grudgingly and carelessly obeyed. Even the honest hands must have caught +the infection, for there was not one man aboard to mend another. Mutiny, +it was plain, hung over us like a thunder-cloud. + +And it was not only we of the cabin party who perceived the danger. Long +John was hard at work going from group to group, spending himself in +good advice, and as for example no man could have shown a better. He +fairly outstripped himself in willingness and civility; he was all +smiles to everyone. If an order were given, John would be on his crutch +in an instant, with the cheeriest “Aye, aye, sir!” in the world; and +when there was nothing else to do, he kept up one song after another, as +if to conceal the discontent of the rest. + +Of all the gloomy features of that gloomy afternoon, this obvious +anxiety on the part of Long John appeared the worst. + +We held a council in the cabin. + +“Sir,” said the captain, “if I risk another order, the whole ship’ll +come about our ears by the run. You see, sir, here it is. I get a rough +answer, do I not? Well, if I speak back, pikes will be going in two +shakes; if I don’t, Silver will see there’s something under that, and +the game’s up. Now, we’ve only one man to rely on.” + +“And who is that?” asked the squire. + +“Silver, sir,” returned the captain; “he’s as anxious as you and I to +smother things up. This is a tiff; he’d soon talk ’em out of it if he +had the chance, and what I propose to do is to give him the chance. +Let’s allow the men an afternoon ashore. If they all go, why we’ll fight +the ship. If they none of them go, well then, we hold the cabin, and God +defend the right. If some go, you mark my words, sir, Silver’ll bring +’em aboard again as mild as lambs.” + +It was so decided; loaded pistols were served out to all the sure men; +Hunter, Joyce, and Redruth were taken into our confidence and received +the news with less surprise and a better spirit than we had looked for, +and then the captain went on deck and addressed the crew. + +“My lads,” said he, “we’ve had a hot day and are all tired and out of +sorts. A turn ashore’ll hurt nobody--the boats are still in the water; +you can take the gigs, and as many as please may go ashore for the +afternoon. I’ll fire a gun half an hour before sundown.” + +I believe the silly fellows must have thought they would break their +shins over treasure as soon as they were landed, for they all came out +of their sulks in a moment and gave a cheer that started the echo in a +faraway hill and sent the birds once more flying and squalling round the +anchorage. + +The captain was too bright to be in the way. He whipped out of sight +in a moment, leaving Silver to arrange the party, and I fancy it was as +well he did so. Had he been on deck, he could no longer so much as +have pretended not to understand the situation. It was as plain as day. +Silver was the captain, and a mighty rebellious crew he had of it. The +honest hands--and I was soon to see it proved that there were such on +board--must have been very stupid fellows. Or rather, I suppose the +truth was this, that all hands were disaffected by the example of the +ringleaders--only some more, some less; and a few, being good fellows in +the main, could neither be led nor driven any further. It is one thing +to be idle and skulk and quite another to take a ship and murder a +number of innocent men. + +At last, however, the party was made up. Six fellows were to stay on +board, and the remaining thirteen, including Silver, began to embark. + +Then it was that there came into my head the first of the mad notions +that contributed so much to save our lives. If six men were left by +Silver, it was plain our party could not take and fight the ship; and +since only six were left, it was equally plain that the cabin party +had no present need of my assistance. It occurred to me at once to go +ashore. In a jiffy I had slipped over the side and curled up in the +fore-sheets of the nearest boat, and almost at the same moment she +shoved off. + +No one took notice of me, only the bow oar saying, “Is that you, Jim? +Keep your head down.” But Silver, from the other boat, looked sharply +over and called out to know if that were me; and from that moment I +began to regret what I had done. + +The crews raced for the beach, but the boat I was in, having some start +and being at once the lighter and the better manned, shot far ahead of +her consort, and the bow had struck among the shore-side trees and I +had caught a branch and swung myself out and plunged into the nearest +thicket while Silver and the rest were still a hundred yards behind. + +“Jim, Jim!” I heard him shouting. + +But you may suppose I paid no heed; jumping, ducking, and breaking +through, I ran straight before my nose till I could run no longer. + + + + +14 + +The First Blow + +I WAS so pleased at having given the slip to Long John that I began to +enjoy myself and look around me with some interest on the strange land +that I was in. + +I had crossed a marshy tract full of willows, bulrushes, and odd, +outlandish, swampy trees; and I had now come out upon the skirts of an +open piece of undulating, sandy country, about a mile long, dotted with +a few pines and a great number of contorted trees, not unlike the oak +in growth, but pale in the foliage, like willows. On the far side of +the open stood one of the hills, with two quaint, craggy peaks shining +vividly in the sun. + +I now felt for the first time the joy of exploration. The isle was +uninhabited; my shipmates I had left behind, and nothing lived in front +of me but dumb brutes and fowls. I turned hither and thither among the +trees. Here and there were flowering plants, unknown to me; here and +there I saw snakes, and one raised his head from a ledge of rock and +hissed at me with a noise not unlike the spinning of a top. Little did +I suppose that he was a deadly enemy and that the noise was the famous +rattle. + +Then I came to a long thicket of these oaklike trees--live, or +evergreen, oaks, I heard afterwards they should be called--which grew +low along the sand like brambles, the boughs curiously twisted, the +foliage compact, like thatch. The thicket stretched down from the top of +one of the sandy knolls, spreading and growing taller as it went, until +it reached the margin of the broad, reedy fen, through which the nearest +of the little rivers soaked its way into the anchorage. The marsh was +steaming in the strong sun, and the outline of the Spy-glass trembled +through the haze. + +All at once there began to go a sort of bustle among the bulrushes; +a wild duck flew up with a quack, another followed, and soon over the +whole surface of the marsh a great cloud of birds hung screaming and +circling in the air. I judged at once that some of my shipmates must be +drawing near along the borders of the fen. Nor was I deceived, for soon +I heard the very distant and low tones of a human voice, which, as I +continued to give ear, grew steadily louder and nearer. + +This put me in a great fear, and I crawled under cover of the nearest +live-oak and squatted there, hearkening, as silent as a mouse. + +Another voice answered, and then the first voice, which I now recognized +to be Silver’s, once more took up the story and ran on for a long while +in a stream, only now and again interrupted by the other. By the sound +they must have been talking earnestly, and almost fiercely; but no +distinct word came to my hearing. + +At last the speakers seemed to have paused and perhaps to have sat down, +for not only did they cease to draw any nearer, but the birds themselves +began to grow more quiet and to settle again to their places in the +swamp. + +And now I began to feel that I was neglecting my business, that since +I had been so foolhardy as to come ashore with these desperadoes, the +least I could do was to overhear them at their councils, and that my +plain and obvious duty was to draw as close as I could manage, under the +favourable ambush of the crouching trees. + +I could tell the direction of the speakers pretty exactly, not only by +the sound of their voices but by the behaviour of the few birds that +still hung in alarm above the heads of the intruders. + +Crawling on all fours, I made steadily but slowly towards them, till at +last, raising my head to an aperture among the leaves, I could see clear +down into a little green dell beside the marsh, and closely set about +with trees, where Long John Silver and another of the crew stood face to +face in conversation. + +The sun beat full upon them. Silver had thrown his hat beside him on the +ground, and his great, smooth, blond face, all shining with heat, was +lifted to the other man’s in a kind of appeal. + +“Mate,” he was saying, “it’s because I thinks gold dust of you--gold +dust, and you may lay to that! If I hadn’t took to you like pitch, do +you think I’d have been here a-warning of you? All’s up--you can’t make +nor mend; it’s to save your neck that I’m a-speaking, and if one of the +wild uns knew it, where’d I be, Tom--now, tell me, where’d I be?” + +“Silver,” said the other man--and I observed he was not only red in the +face, but spoke as hoarse as a crow, and his voice shook too, like a +taut rope--“Silver,” says he, “you’re old, and you’re honest, or has the +name for it; and you’ve money too, which lots of poor sailors hasn’t; +and you’re brave, or I’m mistook. And will you tell me you’ll let +yourself be led away with that kind of a mess of swabs? Not you! As sure +as God sees me, I’d sooner lose my hand. If I turn agin my dooty--” + +And then all of a sudden he was interrupted by a noise. I had found +one of the honest hands--well, here, at that same moment, came news of +another. Far away out in the marsh there arose, all of a sudden, a sound +like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it; and then one +horrid, long-drawn scream. The rocks of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a +score of times; the whole troop of marsh-birds rose again, darkening +heaven, with a simultaneous whirr; and long after that death yell was +still ringing in my brain, silence had re-established its empire, and +only the rustle of the redescending birds and the boom of the distant +surges disturbed the languor of the afternoon. + +Tom had leaped at the sound, like a horse at the spur, but Silver had +not winked an eye. He stood where he was, resting lightly on his crutch, +watching his companion like a snake about to spring. + +“John!” said the sailor, stretching out his hand. + +“Hands off!” cried Silver, leaping back a yard, as it seemed to me, with +the speed and security of a trained gymnast. + +“Hands off, if you like, John Silver,” said the other. “It’s a black +conscience that can make you feared of me. But in heaven’s name, tell +me, what was that?” + +“That?” returned Silver, smiling away, but warier than ever, his eye +a mere pin-point in his big face, but gleaming like a crumb of glass. +“That? Oh, I reckon that’ll be Alan.” + +And at this point Tom flashed out like a hero. + +“Alan!” he cried. “Then rest his soul for a true seaman! And as for you, +John Silver, long you’ve been a mate of mine, but you’re mate of mine +no more. If I die like a dog, I’ll die in my dooty. You’ve killed Alan, +have you? Kill me too, if you can. But I defies you.” + +And with that, this brave fellow turned his back directly on the cook +and set off walking for the beach. But he was not destined to go far. +With a cry John seized the branch of a tree, whipped the crutch out of +his armpit, and sent that uncouth missile hurtling through the air. +It struck poor Tom, point foremost, and with stunning violence, right +between the shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he +gave a sort of gasp, and fell. + +Whether he were injured much or little, none could ever tell. Like +enough, to judge from the sound, his back was broken on the spot. But he +had no time given him to recover. Silver, agile as a monkey even without +leg or crutch, was on the top of him next moment and had twice buried +his knife up to the hilt in that defenceless body. From my place of +ambush, I could hear him pant aloud as he struck the blows. + +I do not know what it rightly is to faint, but I do know that for the +next little while the whole world swam away from before me in a whirling +mist; Silver and the birds, and the tall Spy-glass hilltop, going +round and round and topsy-turvy before my eyes, and all manner of bells +ringing and distant voices shouting in my ear. + +When I came again to myself the monster had pulled himself together, +his crutch under his arm, his hat upon his head. Just before him Tom +lay motionless upon the sward; but the murderer minded him not a whit, +cleansing his blood-stained knife the while upon a wisp of grass. +Everything else was unchanged, the sun still shining mercilessly on the +steaming marsh and the tall pinnacle of the mountain, and I could scarce +persuade myself that murder had been actually done and a human life +cruelly cut short a moment since before my eyes. + +But now John put his hand into his pocket, brought out a whistle, and +blew upon it several modulated blasts that rang far across the heated +air. I could not tell, of course, the meaning of the signal, but +it instantly awoke my fears. More men would be coming. I might be +discovered. They had already slain two of the honest people; after Tom +and Alan, might not I come next? + +Instantly I began to extricate myself and crawl back again, with what +speed and silence I could manage, to the more open portion of the +wood. As I did so, I could hear hails coming and going between the old +buccaneer and his comrades, and this sound of danger lent me wings. As +soon as I was clear of the thicket, I ran as I never ran before, scarce +minding the direction of my flight, so long as it led me from the +murderers; and as I ran, fear grew and grew upon me until it turned into +a kind of frenzy. + +Indeed, could anyone be more entirely lost than I? When the gun fired, +how should I dare to go down to the boats among those fiends, still +smoking from their crime? Would not the first of them who saw me wring +my neck like a snipe’s? Would not my absence itself be an evidence to +them of my alarm, and therefore of my fatal knowledge? It was all over, +I thought. Good-bye to the HISPANIOLA; good-bye to the squire, the +doctor, and the captain! There was nothing left for me but death by +starvation or death by the hands of the mutineers. + +All this while, as I say, I was still running, and without taking any +notice, I had drawn near to the foot of the little hill with the two +peaks and had got into a part of the island where the live-oaks grew +more widely apart and seemed more like forest trees in their bearing and +dimensions. Mingled with these were a few scattered pines, some fifty, +some nearer seventy, feet high. The air too smelt more freshly than down +beside the marsh. + +And here a fresh alarm brought me to a standstill with a thumping heart. + + + + +15 + +The Man of the Island + +FROM the side of the hill, which was here steep and stony, a spout of +gravel was dislodged and fell rattling and bounding through the trees. +My eyes turned instinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leap +with great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What it was, whether +bear or man or monkey, I could in no wise tell. It seemed dark and +shaggy; more I knew not. But the terror of this new apparition brought +me to a stand. + +I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides; behind me the murderers, +before me this lurking nondescript. And immediately I began to prefer +the dangers that I knew to those I knew not. Silver himself appeared +less terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and I turned +on my heel, and looking sharply behind me over my shoulder, began to +retrace my steps in the direction of the boats. + +Instantly the figure reappeared, and making a wide circuit, began to +head me off. I was tired, at any rate; but had I been as fresh as when I +rose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an +adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, running +manlike on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stooping +almost double as it ran. Yet a man it was, I could no longer be in doubt +about that. + +I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I was within an ace of +calling for help. But the mere fact that he was a man, however wild, +had somewhat reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive in +proportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for some method of +escape; and as I was so thinking, the recollection of my pistol flashed +into my mind. As soon as I remembered I was not defenceless, courage +glowed again in my heart and I set my face resolutely for this man of +the island and walked briskly towards him. + +He was concealed by this time behind another tree trunk; but he must +have been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in his +direction he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated, +drew back, came forward again, and at last, to my wonder and +confusion, threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands in +supplication. + +At that I once more stopped. + +“Who are you?” I asked. + +“Ben Gunn,” he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, +like a rusty lock. “I’m poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven’t spoke with a +Christian these three years.” + +I could now see that he was a white man like myself and that his +features were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, was +burnt by the sun; even his lips were black, and his fair eyes looked +quite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-men that I had seen +or fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tatters +of old ship’s canvas and old sea-cloth, and this extraordinary patchwork +was all held together by a system of the most various and incongruous +fastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops of tarry gaskin. +About his waist he wore an old brass-buckled leather belt, which was the +one thing solid in his whole accoutrement. + +“Three years!” I cried. “Were you shipwrecked?” + +“Nay, mate,” said he; “marooned.” + +I had heard the word, and I knew it stood for a horrible kind of +punishment common enough among the buccaneers, in which the offender +is put ashore with a little powder and shot and left behind on some +desolate and distant island. + +“Marooned three years agone,” he continued, “and lived on goats since +then, and berries, and oysters. Wherever a man is, says I, a man can +do for himself. But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You +mightn’t happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well, +many’s the long night I’ve dreamed of cheese--toasted, mostly--and woke +up again, and here I were.” + +“If ever I can get aboard again,” said I, “you shall have cheese by the +stone.” + +All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my jacket, smoothing +my hands, looking at my boots, and generally, in the intervals of +his speech, showing a childish pleasure in the presence of a fellow +creature. But at my last words he perked up into a kind of startled +slyness. + +“If ever you can get aboard again, says you?” he repeated. “Why, now, +who’s to hinder you?” + +“Not you, I know,” was my reply. + +“And right you was,” he cried. “Now you--what do you call yourself, +mate?” + +“Jim,” I told him. + +“Jim, Jim,” says he, quite pleased apparently. “Well, now, Jim, I’ve +lived that rough as you’d be ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, you +wouldn’t think I had had a pious mother--to look at me?” he asked. + +“Why, no, not in particular,” I answered. + +“Ah, well,” said he, “but I had--remarkable pious. And I was a civil, +pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast, as you couldn’t +tell one word from another. And here’s what it come to, Jim, and it +begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed grave-stones! That’s what it +begun with, but it went further’n that; and so my mother told me, and +predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman! But it were Providence +that put me here. I’ve thought it all out in this here lonely island, +and I’m back on piety. You don’t catch me tasting rum so much, but just +a thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I’m bound +I’ll be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim”--looking all round him and +lowering his voice to a whisper--“I’m rich.” + +I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, and +I suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated the +statement hotly: “Rich! Rich! I says. And I’ll tell you what: I’ll make +a man of you, Jim. Ah, Jim, you’ll bless your stars, you will, you was +the first that found me!” + +And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face, and he +tightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateningly +before my eyes. + +“Now, Jim, you tell me true: that ain’t Flint’s ship?” he asked. + +At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found +an ally, and I answered him at once. + +“It’s not Flint’s ship, and Flint is dead; but I’ll tell you true, as +you ask me--there are some of Flint’s hands aboard; worse luck for the +rest of us.” + +“Not a man--with one--leg?” he gasped. + +“Silver?” I asked. + +“Ah, Silver!” says he. “That were his name.” + +“He’s the cook, and the ringleader too.” + +He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he give it quite a +wring. + +“If you was sent by Long John,” he said, “I’m as good as pork, and I +know it. But where was you, do you suppose?” + +I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him +the whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found +ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he +patted me on the head. + +“You’re a good lad, Jim,” he said; “and you’re all in a clove hitch, +ain’t you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn--Ben Gunn’s the man +to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove +a liberal-minded one in case of help--him being in a clove hitch, as you +remark?” + +I told him the squire was the most liberal of men. + +“Aye, but you see,” returned Ben Gunn, “I didn’t mean giving me a gate +to keep, and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that’s not my mark, +Jim. What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say +one thousand pounds out of money that’s as good as a man’s own already?” + +“I am sure he would,” said I. “As it was, all hands were to share.” + +“AND a passage home?” he added with a look of great shrewdness. + +“Why,” I cried, “the squire’s a gentleman. And besides, if we got rid of +the others, we should want you to help work the vessel home.” + +“Ah,” said he, “so you would.” And he seemed very much relieved. + +“Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “So much I’ll tell you, and no +more. I were in Flint’s ship when he buried the treasure; he and +six along--six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us +standing off and on in the old WALRUS. One fine day up went the signal, +and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head done up in +a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about +the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all dead--dead +and buried. How he done it, not a man aboard us could make out. It was +battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways--him against six. Billy +Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster; and they asked him +where the treasure was. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘you can go ashore, if you like, +and stay,’ he says; ‘but as for the ship, she’ll beat up for more, by +thunder!’ That’s what he said. + +“Well, I was in another ship three years back, and we sighted this +island. ‘Boys,’ said I, ‘here’s Flint’s treasure; let’s land and find +it.’ The cap’n was displeased at that, but my messmates were all of a +mind and landed. Twelve days they looked for it, and every day they had +the worse word for me, until one fine morning all hands went aboard. ‘As +for you, Benjamin Gunn,’ says they, ‘here’s a musket,’ they says, ‘and +a spade, and pick-axe. You can stay here and find Flint’s money for +yourself,’ they says. + +“Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a bite of Christian +diet from that day to this. But now, you look here; look at me. Do I +look like a man before the mast? No, says you. Nor I weren’t, neither, I +says.” + +And with that he winked and pinched me hard. + +“Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim,” he went on. “Nor he +weren’t, neither--that’s the words. Three years he were the man of this +island, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would maybe +think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would maybe think of +his old mother, so be as she’s alive (you’ll say); but the most part +of Gunn’s time (this is what you’ll say)--the most part of his time was +took up with another matter. And then you’ll give him a nip, like I do.” + +And he pinched me again in the most confidential manner. + +“Then,” he continued, “then you’ll up, and you’ll say this: Gunn is a +good man (you’ll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence--a +precious sight, mind that--in a gen’leman born than in these gen’leman +of fortune, having been one hisself.” + +“Well,” I said, “I don’t understand one word that you’ve been saying. +But that’s neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?” + +“Ah,” said he, “that’s the hitch, for sure. Well, there’s my boat, that +I made with my two hands. I keep her under the white rock. If the worst +come to the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi!” he broke out. +“What’s that?” + +For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all the +echoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon. + +“They have begun to fight!” I cried. “Follow me.” + +And I began to run towards the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten, +while close at my side the marooned man in his goatskins trotted easily +and lightly. + +“Left, left,” says he; “keep to your left hand, mate Jim! Under the +trees with you! Theer’s where I killed my first goat. They don’t come +down here now; they’re all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear +of Benjamin Gunn. Ah! And there’s the cetemery”--cemetery, he must have +meant. “You see the mounds? I come here and prayed, nows and thens, when +I thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It weren’t quite a chapel, +but it seemed more solemn like; and then, says you, Ben Gunn was +short-handed--no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you says.” + +So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor receiving any answer. + +The cannon-shot was followed after a considerable interval by a volley +of small arms. + +Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, I +beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood. + + + + + + +PART FOUR--The Stockade + + + + +16 + +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: How the Ship Was Abandoned + +IT was about half past one--three bells in the sea phrase--that the two +boats went ashore from the HISPANIOLA. The captain, the squire, and I +were talking matters over in the cabin. Had there been a breath of wind, +we should have fallen on the six mutineers who were left aboard with +us, slipped our cable, and away to sea. But the wind was wanting; and +to complete our helplessness, down came Hunter with the news that Jim +Hawkins had slipped into a boat and was gone ashore with the rest. + +It never occurred to us to doubt Jim Hawkins, but we were alarmed for +his safety. With the men in the temper they were in, it seemed an even +chance if we should see the lad again. We ran on deck. The pitch was +bubbling in the seams; the nasty stench of the place turned me sick; +if ever a man smelt fever and dysentery, it was in that abominable +anchorage. The six scoundrels were sitting grumbling under a sail in the +forecastle; ashore we could see the gigs made fast and a man sitting +in each, hard by where the river runs in. One of them was whistling +“Lillibullero.” + +Waiting was a strain, and it was decided that Hunter and I should go +ashore with the jolly-boat in quest of information. + +The gigs had leaned to their right, but Hunter and I pulled straight in, +in the direction of the stockade upon the chart. The two who were +left guarding their boats seemed in a bustle at our appearance; +“Lillibullero” stopped off, and I could see the pair discussing what +they ought to do. Had they gone and told Silver, all might have turned +out differently; but they had their orders, I suppose, and decided to +sit quietly where they were and hark back again to “Lillibullero.” + +There was a slight bend in the coast, and I steered so as to put it +between us; even before we landed we had thus lost sight of the gigs. +I jumped out and came as near running as I durst, with a big silk +handkerchief under my hat for coolness’ sake and a brace of pistols +ready primed for safety. + +I had not gone a hundred yards when I reached the stockade. + +This was how it was: a spring of clear water rose almost at the top of a +knoll. Well, on the knoll, and enclosing the spring, they had clapped a +stout loghouse fit to hold two score of people on a pinch and loopholed +for musketry on either side. All round this they had cleared a wide +space, and then the thing was completed by a paling six feet high, +without door or opening, too strong to pull down without time and labour +and too open to shelter the besiegers. The people in the log-house had +them in every way; they stood quiet in shelter and shot the others like +partridges. All they wanted was a good watch and food; for, short of a +complete surprise, they might have held the place against a regiment. + +What particularly took my fancy was the spring. For though we had a good +enough place of it in the cabin of the HISPANIOLA, with plenty of arms +and ammunition, and things to eat, and excellent wines, there had been +one thing overlooked--we had no water. I was thinking this over when +there came ringing over the island the cry of a man at the point of +death. I was not new to violent death--I have served his Royal Highness +the Duke of Cumberland, and got a wound myself at Fontenoy--but I know +my pulse went dot and carry one. “Jim Hawkins is gone,” was my first +thought. + +It is something to have been an old soldier, but more still to have been +a doctor. There is no time to dilly-dally in our work. And so now I made +up my mind instantly, and with no time lost returned to the shore and +jumped on board the jolly-boat. + +By good fortune Hunter pulled a good oar. We made the water fly, and the +boat was soon alongside and I aboard the schooner. + +I found them all shaken, as was natural. The squire was sitting down, as +white as a sheet, thinking of the harm he had led us to, the good soul! +And one of the six forecastle hands was little better. + +“There’s a man,” says Captain Smollett, nodding towards him, “new to +this work. He came nigh-hand fainting, doctor, when he heard the cry. +Another touch of the rudder and that man would join us.” + +I told my plan to the captain, and between us we settled on the details +of its accomplishment. + +We put old Redruth in the gallery between the cabin and the forecastle, +with three or four loaded muskets and a mattress for protection. Hunter +brought the boat round under the stern-port, and Joyce and I set to work +loading her with powder tins, muskets, bags of biscuits, kegs of pork, a +cask of cognac, and my invaluable medicine chest. + +In the meantime, the squire and the captain stayed on deck, and the +latter hailed the coxswain, who was the principal man aboard. + +“Mr. Hands,” he said, “here are two of us with a brace of pistols each. +If any one of you six make a signal of any description, that man’s +dead.” + +They were a good deal taken aback, and after a little consultation one +and all tumbled down the fore companion, thinking no doubt to take us +on the rear. But when they saw Redruth waiting for them in the sparred +galley, they went about ship at once, and a head popped out again on +deck. + +“Down, dog!” cries the captain. + +And the head popped back again; and we heard no more, for the time, of +these six very faint-hearted seamen. + +By this time, tumbling things in as they came, we had the jolly-boat +loaded as much as we dared. Joyce and I got out through the stern-port, +and we made for shore again as fast as oars could take us. + +This second trip fairly aroused the watchers along shore. “Lillibullero” + was dropped again; and just before we lost sight of them behind the +little point, one of them whipped ashore and disappeared. I had half a +mind to change my plan and destroy their boats, but I feared that Silver +and the others might be close at hand, and all might very well be lost +by trying for too much. + +We had soon touched land in the same place as before and set to +provision the block house. All three made the first journey, heavily +laden, and tossed our stores over the palisade. Then, leaving Joyce to +guard them--one man, to be sure, but with half a dozen muskets--Hunter +and I returned to the jolly-boat and loaded ourselves once more. So +we proceeded without pausing to take breath, till the whole cargo was +bestowed, when the two servants took up their position in the block +house, and I, with all my power, sculled back to the HISPANIOLA. + +That we should have risked a second boat load seems more daring than it +really was. They had the advantage of numbers, of course, but we had the +advantage of arms. Not one of the men ashore had a musket, and before +they could get within range for pistol shooting, we flattered ourselves +we should be able to give a good account of a half-dozen at least. + +The squire was waiting for me at the stern window, all his faintness +gone from him. He caught the painter and made it fast, and we fell to +loading the boat for our very lives. Pork, powder, and biscuit was the +cargo, with only a musket and a cutlass apiece for the squire and me +and Redruth and the captain. The rest of the arms and powder we dropped +overboard in two fathoms and a half of water, so that we could see +the bright steel shining far below us in the sun, on the clean, sandy +bottom. + +By this time the tide was beginning to ebb, and the ship was swinging +round to her anchor. Voices were heard faintly halloaing in the +direction of the two gigs; and though this reassured us for Joyce and +Hunter, who were well to the eastward, it warned our party to be off. + +Redruth retreated from his place in the gallery and dropped into the +boat, which we then brought round to the ship’s counter, to be handier +for Captain Smollett. + +“Now, men,” said he, “do you hear me?” + +There was no answer from the forecastle. + +“It’s to you, Abraham Gray--it’s to you I am speaking.” + +Still no reply. + +“Gray,” resumed Mr. Smollett, a little louder, “I am leaving this ship, +and I order you to follow your captain. I know you are a good man at +bottom, and I dare say not one of the lot of you’s as bad as he makes +out. I have my watch here in my hand; I give you thirty seconds to join +me in.” + +There was a pause. + +“Come, my fine fellow,” continued the captain; “don’t hang so long in +stays. I’m risking my life and the lives of these good gentlemen every +second.” + +There was a sudden scuffle, a sound of blows, and out burst Abraham +Gray with a knife cut on the side of the cheek, and came running to the +captain like a dog to the whistle. + +“I’m with you, sir,” said he. + +And the next moment he and the captain had dropped aboard of us, and we +had shoved off and given way. + +We were clear out of the ship, but not yet ashore in our stockade. + + + + +17 + +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The Jolly-boat’s Last Trip + +THIS fifth trip was quite different from any of the others. In the +first place, the little gallipot of a boat that we were in was gravely +overloaded. Five grown men, and three of them--Trelawney, Redruth, and +the captain--over six feet high, was already more than she was meant +to carry. Add to that the powder, pork, and bread-bags. The gunwale was +lipping astern. Several times we shipped a little water, and my breeches +and the tails of my coat were all soaking wet before we had gone a +hundred yards. + +The captain made us trim the boat, and we got her to lie a little more +evenly. All the same, we were afraid to breathe. + +In the second place, the ebb was now making--a strong rippling current +running westward through the basin, and then south’ard and seaward down +the straits by which we had entered in the morning. Even the ripples +were a danger to our overloaded craft, but the worst of it was that we +were swept out of our true course and away from our proper landing-place +behind the point. If we let the current have its way we should come +ashore beside the gigs, where the pirates might appear at any moment. + +“I cannot keep her head for the stockade, sir,” said I to the captain. +I was steering, while he and Redruth, two fresh men, were at the oars. +“The tide keeps washing her down. Could you pull a little stronger?” + +“Not without swamping the boat,” said he. “You must bear up, sir, if you +please--bear up until you see you’re gaining.” + +I tried and found by experiment that the tide kept sweeping us westward +until I had laid her head due east, or just about right angles to the +way we ought to go. + +“We’ll never get ashore at this rate,” said I. + +“If it’s the only course that we can lie, sir, we must even lie it,” + returned the captain. “We must keep upstream. You see, sir,” he went on, +“if once we dropped to leeward of the landing-place, it’s hard to say +where we should get ashore, besides the chance of being boarded by the +gigs; whereas, the way we go the current must slacken, and then we can +dodge back along the shore.” + +“The current’s less a’ready, sir,” said the man Gray, who was sitting in +the fore-sheets; “you can ease her off a bit.” + +“Thank you, my man,” said I, quite as if nothing had happened, for we +had all quietly made up our minds to treat him like one of ourselves. + +Suddenly the captain spoke up again, and I thought his voice was a +little changed. + +“The gun!” said he. + +“I have thought of that,” said I, for I made sure he was thinking of a +bombardment of the fort. “They could never get the gun ashore, and if +they did, they could never haul it through the woods.” + +“Look astern, doctor,” replied the captain. + +We had entirely forgotten the long nine; and there, to our horror, were +the five rogues busy about her, getting off her jacket, as they called +the stout tarpaulin cover under which she sailed. Not only that, but +it flashed into my mind at the same moment that the round-shot and the +powder for the gun had been left behind, and a stroke with an axe would +put it all into the possession of the evil ones abroad. + +“Israel was Flint’s gunner,” said Gray hoarsely. + +At any risk, we put the boat’s head direct for the landing-place. By +this time we had got so far out of the run of the current that we kept +steerage way even at our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and I could +keep her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was that with the +course I now held we turned our broadside instead of our stern to the +HISPANIOLA and offered a target like a barn door. + +I could hear as well as see that brandy-faced rascal Israel Hands +plumping down a round-shot on the deck. + +“Who’s the best shot?” asked the captain. + +“Mr. Trelawney, out and away,” said I. + +“Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off one of these men, sir? +Hands, if possible,” said the captain. + +Trelawney was as cool as steel. He looked to the priming of his gun. + +“Now,” cried the captain, “easy with that gun, sir, or you’ll swamp the +boat. All hands stand by to trim her when he aims.” + +The squire raised his gun, the rowing ceased, and we leaned over to the +other side to keep the balance, and all was so nicely contrived that we +did not ship a drop. + +They had the gun, by this time, slewed round upon the swivel, and Hands, +who was at the muzzle with the rammer, was in consequence the most +exposed. However, we had no luck, for just as Trelawney fired, down he +stooped, the ball whistled over him, and it was one of the other four +who fell. + +The cry he gave was echoed not only by his companions on board but by a +great number of voices from the shore, and looking in that direction +I saw the other pirates trooping out from among the trees and tumbling +into their places in the boats. + +“Here come the gigs, sir,” said I. + +“Give way, then,” cried the captain. “We mustn’t mind if we swamp her +now. If we can’t get ashore, all’s up.” + +“Only one of the gigs is being manned, sir,” I added; “the crew of the +other most likely going round by shore to cut us off.” + +“They’ll have a hot run, sir,” returned the captain. “Jack ashore, you +know. It’s not them I mind; it’s the round-shot. Carpet bowls! My lady’s +maid couldn’t miss. Tell us, squire, when you see the match, and we’ll +hold water.” + +In the meanwhile we had been making headway at a good pace for a boat so +overloaded, and we had shipped but little water in the process. We were +now close in; thirty or forty strokes and we should beach her, for the +ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the clustering +trees. The gig was no longer to be feared; the little point had already +concealed it from our eyes. The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed +us, was now making reparation and delaying our assailants. The one +source of danger was the gun. + +“If I durst,” said the captain, “I’d stop and pick off another man.” + +But it was plain that they meant nothing should delay their shot. They +had never so much as looked at their fallen comrade, though he was not +dead, and I could see him trying to crawl away. + +“Ready!” cried the squire. + +“Hold!” cried the captain, quick as an echo. + +And he and Redruth backed with a great heave that sent her stern bodily +under water. The report fell in at the same instant of time. This was +the first that Jim heard, the sound of the squire’s shot not having +reached him. Where the ball passed, not one of us precisely knew, but I +fancy it must have been over our heads and that the wind of it may have +contributed to our disaster. + +At any rate, the boat sank by the stern, quite gently, in three feet of +water, leaving the captain and myself, facing each other, on our feet. +The other three took complete headers, and came up again drenched and +bubbling. + +So far there was no great harm. No lives were lost, and we could wade +ashore in safety. But there were all our stores at the bottom, and to +make things worse, only two guns out of five remained in a state for +service. Mine I had snatched from my knees and held over my head, by +a sort of instinct. As for the captain, he had carried his over his +shoulder by a bandoleer, and like a wise man, lock uppermost. The other +three had gone down with the boat. + +To add to our concern, we heard voices already drawing near us in the +woods along shore, and we had not only the danger of being cut off from +the stockade in our half-crippled state but the fear before us whether, +if Hunter and Joyce were attacked by half a dozen, they would have the +sense and conduct to stand firm. Hunter was steady, that we knew; Joyce +was a doubtful case--a pleasant, polite man for a valet and to brush +one’s clothes, but not entirely fitted for a man of war. + +With all this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast as we could, leaving +behind us the poor jolly-boat and a good half of all our powder and +provisions. + + + + +18 + +Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First Day’s Fighting + +WE made our best speed across the strip of wood that now divided us from +the stockade, and at every step we took the voices of the buccaneers +rang nearer. Soon we could hear their footfalls as they ran and the +cracking of the branches as they breasted across a bit of thicket. + +I began to see we should have a brush for it in earnest and looked to my +priming. + +“Captain,” said I, “Trelawney is the dead shot. Give him your gun; his +own is useless.” + +They exchanged guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool as he had been since +the beginning of the bustle, hung a moment on his heel to see that all +was fit for service. At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed, I +handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to see him spit in his +hand, knit his brows, and make the blade sing through the air. It was +plain from every line of his body that our new hand was worth his salt. + +Forty paces farther we came to the edge of the wood and saw the stockade +in front of us. We struck the enclosure about the middle of the south +side, and almost at the same time, seven mutineers--Job Anderson, the +boatswain, at their head--appeared in full cry at the southwestern +corner. + +They paused as if taken aback, and before they recovered, not only the +squire and I, but Hunter and Joyce from the block house, had time to +fire. The four shots came in rather a scattering volley, but they did +the business: one of the enemy actually fell, and the rest, without +hesitation, turned and plunged into the trees. + +After reloading, we walked down the outside of the palisade to see to +the fallen enemy. He was stone dead--shot through the heart. + +We began to rejoice over our good success when just at that moment a +pistol cracked in the bush, a ball whistled close past my ear, and poor +Tom Redruth stumbled and fell his length on the ground. Both the squire +and I returned the shot, but as we had nothing to aim at, it is probable +we only wasted powder. Then we reloaded and turned our attention to poor +Tom. + +The captain and Gray were already examining him, and I saw with half an +eye that all was over. + +I believe the readiness of our return volley had scattered the mutineers +once more, for we were suffered without further molestation to get the +poor old gamekeeper hoisted over the stockade and carried, groaning and +bleeding, into the log-house. + +Poor old fellow, he had not uttered one word of surprise, complaint, +fear, or even acquiescence from the very beginning of our troubles till +now, when we had laid him down in the log-house to die. He had lain like +a Trojan behind his mattress in the gallery; he had followed every order +silently, doggedly, and well; he was the oldest of our party by a score +of years; and now, sullen, old, serviceable servant, it was he that was +to die. + +The squire dropped down beside him on his knees and kissed his hand, +crying like a child. + +“Be I going, doctor?” he asked. + +“Tom, my man,” said I, “you’re going home.” + +“I wish I had had a lick at them with the gun first,” he replied. + +“Tom,” said the squire, “say you forgive me, won’t you?” + +“Would that be respectful like, from me to you, squire?” was the answer. +“Howsoever, so be it, amen!” + +After a little while of silence, he said he thought somebody might read +a prayer. “It’s the custom, sir,” he added apologetically. And not long +after, without another word, he passed away. + +In the meantime the captain, whom I had observed to be wonderfully +swollen about the chest and pockets, had turned out a great many various +stores--the British colours, a Bible, a coil of stoutish rope, pen, ink, +the log-book, and pounds of tobacco. He had found a longish fir-tree +lying felled and trimmed in the enclosure, and with the help of Hunter +he had set it up at the corner of the log-house where the trunks crossed +and made an angle. Then, climbing on the roof, he had with his own hand +bent and run up the colours. + +This seemed mightily to relieve him. He re-entered the log-house and set +about counting up the stores as if nothing else existed. But he had an +eye on Tom’s passage for all that, and as soon as all was over, came +forward with another flag and reverently spread it on the body. + +“Don’t you take on, sir,” he said, shaking the squire’s hand. “All’s +well with him; no fear for a hand that’s been shot down in his duty to +captain and owner. It mayn’t be good divinity, but it’s a fact.” + +Then he pulled me aside. + +“Dr. Livesey,” he said, “in how many weeks do you and squire expect the +consort?” + +I told him it was a question not of weeks but of months, that if we +were not back by the end of August Blandly was to send to find us, but +neither sooner nor later. “You can calculate for yourself,” I said. + +“Why, yes,” returned the captain, scratching his head; “and making a +large allowance, sir, for all the gifts of Providence, I should say we +were pretty close hauled.” + +“How do you mean?” I asked. + +“It’s a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That’s what I mean,” + replied the captain. “As for powder and shot, we’ll do. But the rations +are short, very short--so short, Dr. Livesey, that we’re perhaps as well +without that extra mouth.” + +And he pointed to the dead body under the flag. + +Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a round-shot passed high above the +roof of the log-house and plumped far beyond us in the wood. + +“Oho!” said the captain. “Blaze away! You’ve little enough powder +already, my lads.” + +At the second trial, the aim was better, and the ball descended inside +the stockade, scattering a cloud of sand but doing no further damage. + +“Captain,” said the squire, “the house is quite invisible from the ship. +It must be the flag they are aiming at. Would it not be wiser to take it +in?” + +“Strike my colours!” cried the captain. “No, sir, not I”; and as soon +as he had said the words, I think we all agreed with him. For it was +not only a piece of stout, seamanly, good feeling; it was good policy +besides and showed our enemies that we despised their cannonade. + +All through the evening they kept thundering away. Ball after ball flew +over or fell short or kicked up the sand in the enclosure, but they had +to fire so high that the shot fell dead and buried itself in the soft +sand. We had no ricochet to fear, and though one popped in through the +roof of the log-house and out again through the floor, we soon got used +to that sort of horse-play and minded it no more than cricket. + +“There is one good thing about all this,” observed the captain; “the +wood in front of us is likely clear. The ebb has made a good while; our +stores should be uncovered. Volunteers to go and bring in pork.” + +Gray and Hunter were the first to come forward. Well armed, they stole +out of the stockade, but it proved a useless mission. The mutineers were +bolder than we fancied or they put more trust in Israel’s gunnery. For +four or five of them were busy carrying off our stores and wading out +with them to one of the gigs that lay close by, pulling an oar or so to +hold her steady against the current. Silver was in the stern-sheets in +command; and every man of them was now provided with a musket from some +secret magazine of their own. + +The captain sat down to his log, and here is the beginning of the entry: + + Alexander Smollett, master; David Livesey, ship’s + doctor; Abraham Gray, carpenter’s mate; John + Trelawney, owner; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, + owner’s servants, landsmen--being all that is left + faithful of the ship’s company--with stores for ten + days at short rations, came ashore this day and flew + British colours on the log-house in Treasure Island. + Thomas Redruth, owner’s servant, landsman, shot by the + mutineers; James Hawkins, cabin-boy-- + +And at the same time, I was wondering over poor Jim Hawkins’ fate. + +A hail on the land side. + +“Somebody hailing us,” said Hunter, who was on guard. + +“Doctor! Squire! Captain! Hullo, Hunter, is that you?” came the cries. + +And I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins, safe and sound, come +climbing over the stockade. + + + + +19 + +Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in the Stockade + +AS soon as Ben Gunn saw the colours he came to a halt, stopped me by the +arm, and sat down. + +“Now,” said he, “there’s your friends, sure enough.” + +“Far more likely it’s the mutineers,” I answered. + +“That!” he cried. “Why, in a place like this, where nobody puts in but +gen’lemen of fortune, Silver would fly the Jolly Roger, you don’t make +no doubt of that. No, that’s your friends. There’s been blows too, and I +reckon your friends has had the best of it; and here they are ashore in +the old stockade, as was made years and years ago by Flint. Ah, he was +the man to have a headpiece, was Flint! Barring rum, his match were +never seen. He were afraid of none, not he; on’y Silver--Silver was that +genteel.” + +“Well,” said I, “that may be so, and so be it; all the more reason that +I should hurry on and join my friends.” + +“Nay, mate,” returned Ben, “not you. You’re a good boy, or I’m mistook; +but you’re on’y a boy, all told. Now, Ben Gunn is fly. Rum wouldn’t +bring me there, where you’re going--not rum wouldn’t, till I see your +born gen’leman and gets it on his word of honour. And you won’t forget +my words; ‘A precious sight (that’s what you’ll say), a precious sight +more confidence’--and then nips him.” + +And he pinched me the third time with the same air of cleverness. + +“And when Ben Gunn is wanted, you know where to find him, Jim. Just +wheer you found him today. And him that comes is to have a white thing +in his hand, and he’s to come alone. Oh! And you’ll say this: ‘Ben +Gunn,’ says you, ‘has reasons of his own.’” + +“Well,” said I, “I believe I understand. You have something to propose, +and you wish to see the squire or the doctor, and you’re to be found +where I found you. Is that all?” + +“And when? says you,” he added. “Why, from about noon observation to +about six bells.” + +“Good,” said I, “and now may I go?” + +“You won’t forget?” he inquired anxiously. “Precious sight, and reasons +of his own, says you. Reasons of his own; that’s the mainstay; as +between man and man. Well, then”--still holding me--“I reckon you can +go, Jim. And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you wouldn’t go for to sell +Ben Gunn? Wild horses wouldn’t draw it from you? No, says you. And if +them pirates camp ashore, Jim, what would you say but there’d be widders +in the morning?” + +Here he was interrupted by a loud report, and a cannonball came tearing +through the trees and pitched in the sand not a hundred yards from where +we two were talking. The next moment each of us had taken to his heels +in a different direction. + +For a good hour to come frequent reports shook the island, and +balls kept crashing through the woods. I moved from hiding-place to +hiding-place, always pursued, or so it seemed to me, by these terrifying +missiles. But towards the end of the bombardment, though still I durst +not venture in the direction of the stockade, where the balls fell +oftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to pluck up my heart again, and +after a long detour to the east, crept down among the shore-side trees. + +The sun had just set, the sea breeze was rustling and tumbling in the +woods and ruffling the grey surface of the anchorage; the tide, too, was +far out, and great tracts of sand lay uncovered; the air, after the heat +of the day, chilled me through my jacket. + +The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough, there +was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her peak. +Even as I looked, there came another red flash and another report that +sent the echoes clattering, and one more round-shot whistled through the +air. It was the last of the cannonade. + +I lay for some time watching the bustle which succeeded the attack. Men +were demolishing something with axes on the beach near the stockade--the +poor jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered. Away, near the mouth of the +river, a great fire was glowing among the trees, and between that point +and the ship one of the gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I +had seen so gloomy, shouting at the oars like children. But there was a +sound in their voices which suggested rum. + +At length I thought I might return towards the stockade. I was pretty +far down on the low, sandy spit that encloses the anchorage to the east, +and is joined at half-water to Skeleton Island; and now, as I rose to my +feet, I saw, some distance further down the spit and rising from among +low bushes, an isolated rock, pretty high, and peculiarly white in +colour. It occurred to me that this might be the white rock of which Ben +Gunn had spoken and that some day or other a boat might be wanted and I +should know where to look for one. + +Then I skirted among the woods until I had regained the rear, or +shoreward side, of the stockade, and was soon warmly welcomed by the +faithful party. + +I had soon told my story and began to look about me. The log-house was +made of unsquared trunks of pine--roof, walls, and floor. The latter +stood in several places as much as a foot or a foot and a half above the +surface of the sand. There was a porch at the door, and under this porch +the little spring welled up into an artificial basin of a rather odd +kind--no other than a great ship’s kettle of iron, with the bottom +knocked out, and sunk “to her bearings,” as the captain said, among the +sand. + +Little had been left besides the framework of the house, but in one +corner there was a stone slab laid down by way of hearth and an old +rusty iron basket to contain the fire. + +The slopes of the knoll and all the inside of the stockade had been +cleared of timber to build the house, and we could see by the stumps +what a fine and lofty grove had been destroyed. Most of the soil had +been washed away or buried in drift after the removal of the trees; only +where the streamlet ran down from the kettle a thick bed of moss and +some ferns and little creeping bushes were still green among the sand. +Very close around the stockade--too close for defence, they said--the +wood still flourished high and dense, all of fir on the land side, but +towards the sea with a large admixture of live-oaks. + +The cold evening breeze, of which I have spoken, whistled through every +chink of the rude building and sprinkled the floor with a continual rain +of fine sand. There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sand in our +suppers, sand dancing in the spring at the bottom of the kettle, for all +the world like porridge beginning to boil. Our chimney was a square hole +in the roof; it was but a little part of the smoke that found its way +out, and the rest eddied about the house and kept us coughing and piping +the eye. + +Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his face tied up in a bandage +for a cut he had got in breaking away from the mutineers and that poor +old Tom Redruth, still unburied, lay along the wall, stiff and stark, +under the Union Jack. + +If we had been allowed to sit idle, we should all have fallen in the +blues, but Captain Smollett was never the man for that. All hands were +called up before him, and he divided us into watches. The doctor and +Gray and I for one; the squire, Hunter, and Joyce upon the other. Tired +though we all were, two were sent out for firewood; two more were set to +dig a grave for Redruth; the doctor was named cook; I was put sentry at +the door; and the captain himself went from one to another, keeping up +our spirits and lending a hand wherever it was wanted. + +From time to time the doctor came to the door for a little air and to +rest his eyes, which were almost smoked out of his head, and whenever he +did so, he had a word for me. + +“That man Smollett,” he said once, “is a better man than I am. And when +I say that it means a deal, Jim.” + +Another time he came and was silent for a while. Then he put his head on +one side, and looked at me. + +“Is this Ben Gunn a man?” he asked. + +“I do not know, sir,” said I. “I am not very sure whether he’s sane.” + +“If there’s any doubt about the matter, he is,” returned the doctor. “A +man who has been three years biting his nails on a desert island, Jim, +can’t expect to appear as sane as you or me. It doesn’t lie in human +nature. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?” + +“Yes, sir, cheese,” I answered. + +“Well, Jim,” says he, “just see the good that comes of being dainty in +your food. You’ve seen my snuff-box, haven’t you? And you never saw me +take snuff, the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece of +Parmesan cheese--a cheese made in Italy, very nutritious. Well, that’s +for Ben Gunn!” + +Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the sand and stood round +him for a while bare-headed in the breeze. A good deal of firewood had +been got in, but not enough for the captain’s fancy, and he shook his +head over it and told us we “must get back to this tomorrow rather +livelier.” Then, when we had eaten our pork and each had a good stiff +glass of brandy grog, the three chiefs got together in a corner to +discuss our prospects. + +It appears they were at their wits’ end what to do, the stores being so +low that we must have been starved into surrender long before help came. +But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers until +they either hauled down their flag or ran away with the HISPANIOLA. From +nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two others were wounded, +and one at least--the man shot beside the gun--severely wounded, if he +were not dead. Every time we had a crack at them, we were to take it, +saving our own lives, with the extremest care. And besides that, we had +two able allies--rum and the climate. + +As for the first, though we were about half a mile away, we could hear +them roaring and singing late into the night; and as for the second, +the doctor staked his wig that, camped where they were in the marsh +and unprovided with remedies, the half of them would be on their backs +before a week. + +“So,” he added, “if we are not all shot down first they’ll be glad to +be packing in the schooner. It’s always a ship, and they can get to +buccaneering again, I suppose.” + +“First ship that ever I lost,” said Captain Smollett. + +I was dead tired, as you may fancy; and when I got to sleep, which was +not till after a great deal of tossing, I slept like a log of wood. + +The rest had long been up and had already breakfasted and increased the +pile of firewood by about half as much again when I was wakened by a +bustle and the sound of voices. + +“Flag of truce!” I heard someone say; and then, immediately after, with +a cry of surprise, “Silver himself!” + +And at that, up I jumped, and rubbing my eyes, ran to a loophole in the +wall. + + + + +20 + +Silver’s Embassy + +SURE enough, there were two men just outside the stockade, one of them +waving a white cloth, the other, no less a person than Silver himself, +standing placidly by. + +It was still quite early, and the coldest morning that I think I ever +was abroad in--a chill that pierced into the marrow. The sky was bright +and cloudless overhead, and the tops of the trees shone rosily in +the sun. But where Silver stood with his lieutenant, all was still in +shadow, and they waded knee-deep in a low white vapour that had crawled +during the night out of the morass. The chill and the vapour taken +together told a poor tale of the island. It was plainly a damp, +feverish, unhealthy spot. + +“Keep indoors, men,” said the captain. “Ten to one this is a trick.” + +Then he hailed the buccaneer. + +“Who goes? Stand, or we fire.” + +“Flag of truce,” cried Silver. + +The captain was in the porch, keeping himself carefully out of the way +of a treacherous shot, should any be intended. He turned and spoke to +us, “Doctor’s watch on the lookout. Dr. Livesey take the north side, +if you please; Jim, the east; Gray, west. The watch below, all hands to +load muskets. Lively, men, and careful.” + +And then he turned again to the mutineers. + +“And what do you want with your flag of truce?” he cried. + +This time it was the other man who replied. + +“Cap’n Silver, sir, to come on board and make terms,” he shouted. + +“Cap’n Silver! Don’t know him. Who’s he?” cried the captain. And we +could hear him adding to himself, “Cap’n, is it? My heart, and here’s +promotion!” + +Long John answered for himself. “Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me +cap’n, after your desertion, sir”--laying a particular emphasis upon the +word “desertion.” “We’re willing to submit, if we can come to terms, +and no bones about it. All I ask is your word, Cap’n Smollett, to let me +safe and sound out of this here stockade, and one minute to get out o’ +shot before a gun is fired.” + +“My man,” said Captain Smollett, “I have not the slightest desire to +talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that’s all. If +there’s any treachery, it’ll be on your side, and the Lord help you.” + +“That’s enough, cap’n,” shouted Long John cheerily. “A word from you’s +enough. I know a gentleman, and you may lay to that.” + +We could see the man who carried the flag of truce attempting to hold +Silver back. Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier had been the +captain’s answer. But Silver laughed at him aloud and slapped him on the +back as if the idea of alarm had been absurd. Then he advanced to the +stockade, threw over his crutch, got a leg up, and with great vigour +and skill succeeded in surmounting the fence and dropping safely to the +other side. + +I will confess that I was far too much taken up with what was going on +to be of the slightest use as sentry; indeed, I had already deserted +my eastern loophole and crept up behind the captain, who had now seated +himself on the threshold, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his +hands, and his eyes fixed on the water as it bubbled out of the old iron +kettle in the sand. He was whistling “Come, Lasses and Lads.” + +Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. What with the +steepness of the incline, the thick tree stumps, and the soft sand, he +and his crutch were as helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it +like a man in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, whom +he saluted in the handsomest style. He was tricked out in his best; +an immense blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung as low as to his +knees, and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head. + +“Here you are, my man,” said the captain, raising his head. “You had +better sit down.” + +“You ain’t a-going to let me inside, cap’n?” complained Long John. “It’s +a main cold morning, to be sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand.” + +“Why, Silver,” said the captain, “if you had pleased to be an honest +man, you might have been sitting in your galley. It’s your own doing. +You’re either my ship’s cook--and then you were treated handsome--or +Cap’n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang!” + +“Well, well, cap’n,” returned the sea-cook, sitting down as he was +bidden on the sand, “you’ll have to give me a hand up again, that’s all. +A sweet pretty place you have of it here. Ah, there’s Jim! The top of +the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here’s my service. Why, there you all +are together like a happy family, in a manner of speaking.” + +“If you have anything to say, my man, better say it,” said the captain. + +“Right you were, Cap’n Smollett,” replied Silver. “Dooty is dooty, to be +sure. Well now, you look here, that was a good lay of yours last +night. I don’t deny it was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a +handspike-end. And I’ll not deny neither but what some of my people was +shook--maybe all was shook; maybe I was shook myself; maybe that’s +why I’m here for terms. But you mark me, cap’n, it won’t do twice, by +thunder! We’ll have to do sentry-go and ease off a point or so on the +rum. Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind’s eye. But I’ll +tell you I was sober; I was on’y dog tired; and if I’d awoke a second +sooner, I’d ’a caught you at the act, I would. He wasn’t dead when I got +round to him, not he.” + +“Well?” says Captain Smollett as cool as can be. + +All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you would never have +guessed it from his tone. As for me, I began to have an inkling. Ben +Gunn’s last words came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had +paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk together round +their fire, and I reckoned up with glee that we had only fourteen +enemies to deal with. + +“Well, here it is,” said Silver. “We want that treasure, and we’ll have +it--that’s our point! You would just as soon save your lives, I reckon; +and that’s yours. You have a chart, haven’t you?” + +“That’s as may be,” replied the captain. + +“Oh, well, you have, I know that,” returned Long John. “You needn’t be +so husky with a man; there ain’t a particle of service in that, and you +may lay to it. What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never meant +you no harm, myself.” + +“That won’t do with me, my man,” interrupted the captain. “We know +exactly what you meant to do, and we don’t care, for now, you see, you +can’t do it.” + +And the captain looked at him calmly and proceeded to fill a pipe. + +“If Abe Gray--” Silver broke out. + +“Avast there!” cried Mr. Smollett. “Gray told me nothing, and I asked +him nothing; and what’s more, I would see you and him and this whole +island blown clean out of the water into blazes first. So there’s my +mind for you, my man, on that.” + +This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver down. He had been +growing nettled before, but now he pulled himself together. + +“Like enough,” said he. “I would set no limits to what gentlemen might +consider shipshape, or might not, as the case were. And seein’ as how +you are about to take a pipe, cap’n, I’ll make so free as do likewise.” + +And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat silently +smoking for quite a while, now looking each other in the face, now +stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward to spit. It was as good as +the play to see them. + +“Now,” resumed Silver, “here it is. You give us the chart to get the +treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen and stoving of their heads in +while asleep. You do that, and we’ll offer you a choice. Either you come +aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I’ll give you my +affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or +if that ain’t to your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having +old scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you can. We’ll +divide stores with you, man for man; and I’ll give my affy-davy, as +before to speak the first ship I sight, and send ’em here to pick you +up. Now, you’ll own that’s talking. Handsomer you couldn’t look to get, +now you. And I hope”--raising his voice--“that all hands in this here +block house will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to +all.” + +Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the ashes of his +pipe in the palm of his left hand. + +“Is that all?” he asked. + +“Every last word, by thunder!” answered John. “Refuse that, and you’ve +seen the last of me but musket-balls.” + +“Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear me. If you’ll come up +one by one, unarmed, I’ll engage to clap you all in irons and take you +home to a fair trial in England. If you won’t, my name is Alexander +Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours, and I’ll see you all +to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. You can’t sail the +ship--there’s not a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can’t fight +us--Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your ship’s in irons, Master +Silver; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll find. I stand here and tell +you so; and they’re the last good words you’ll get from me, for in the +name of heaven, I’ll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you. +Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double +quick.” + +Silver’s face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He +shook the fire out of his pipe. + +“Give me a hand up!” he cried. + +“Not I,” returned the captain. + +“Who’ll give me a hand up?” he roared. + +Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled +along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself +again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring. + +“There!” he cried. “That’s what I think of ye. Before an hour’s out, +I’ll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by +thunder, laugh! Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other side. +Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.” + +And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the sand, was +helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with +the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the +trees. + + + + +21 + +The Attack + +AS soon as Silver disappeared, the captain, who had been closely +watching him, turned towards the interior of the house and found not a +man of us at his post but Gray. It was the first time we had ever seen +him angry. + +“Quarters!” he roared. And then, as we all slunk back to our places, +“Gray,” he said, “I’ll put your name in the log; you’ve stood by your +duty like a seaman. Mr. Trelawney, I’m surprised at you, sir. Doctor, +I thought you had worn the king’s coat! If that was how you served at +Fontenoy, sir, you’d have been better in your berth.” + +The doctor’s watch were all back at their loopholes, the rest were busy +loading the spare muskets, and everyone with a red face, you may be +certain, and a flea in his ear, as the saying is. + +The captain looked on for a while in silence. Then he spoke. + +“My lads,” said he, “I’ve given Silver a broadside. I pitched it in +red-hot on purpose; and before the hour’s out, as he said, we shall be +boarded. We’re outnumbered, I needn’t tell you that, but we fight in +shelter; and a minute ago I should have said we fought with discipline. +I’ve no manner of doubt that we can drub them, if you choose.” + +Then he went the rounds and saw, as he said, that all was clear. + +On the two short sides of the house, east and west, there were only two +loopholes; on the south side where the porch was, two again; and on the +north side, five. There was a round score of muskets for the seven +of us; the firewood had been built into four piles--tables, you might +say--one about the middle of each side, and on each of these tables some +ammunition and four loaded muskets were laid ready to the hand of the +defenders. In the middle, the cutlasses lay ranged. + +“Toss out the fire,” said the captain; “the chill is past, and we +mustn’t have smoke in our eyes.” + +The iron fire-basket was carried bodily out by Mr. Trelawney, and the +embers smothered among sand. + +“Hawkins hasn’t had his breakfast. Hawkins, help yourself, and back to +your post to eat it,” continued Captain Smollett. “Lively, now, my lad; +you’ll want it before you’ve done. Hunter, serve out a round of brandy +to all hands.” + +And while this was going on, the captain completed, in his own mind, the +plan of the defence. + +“Doctor, you will take the door,” he resumed. “See, and don’t expose +yourself; keep within, and fire through the porch. Hunter, take the east +side, there. Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney, you +are the best shot--you and Gray will take this long north side, with the +five loopholes; it’s there the danger is. If they can get up to it and +fire in upon us through our own ports, things would begin to look dirty. +Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account at the shooting; we’ll stand +by to load and bear a hand.” + +As the captain had said, the chill was past. As soon as the sun had +climbed above our girdle of trees, it fell with all its force upon the +clearing and drank up the vapours at a draught. Soon the sand was baking +and the resin melting in the logs of the block house. Jackets and coats +were flung aside, shirts thrown open at the neck and rolled up to the +shoulders; and we stood there, each at his post, in a fever of heat and +anxiety. + +An hour passed away. + +“Hang them!” said the captain. “This is as dull as the doldrums. Gray, +whistle for a wind.” + +And just at that moment came the first news of the attack. + +“If you please, sir,” said Joyce, “if I see anyone, am I to fire?” + +“I told you so!” cried the captain. + +“Thank you, sir,” returned Joyce with the same quiet civility. + +Nothing followed for a time, but the remark had set us all on the alert, +straining ears and eyes--the musketeers with their pieces balanced in +their hands, the captain out in the middle of the block house with his +mouth very tight and a frown on his face. + +So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce whipped up his musket +and fired. The report had scarcely died away ere it was repeated and +repeated from without in a scattering volley, shot behind shot, like +a string of geese, from every side of the enclosure. Several bullets +struck the log-house, but not one entered; and as the smoke cleared away +and vanished, the stockade and the woods around it looked as quiet and +empty as before. Not a bough waved, not the gleam of a musket-barrel +betrayed the presence of our foes. + +“Did you hit your man?” asked the captain. + +“No, sir,” replied Joyce. “I believe not, sir.” + +“Next best thing to tell the truth,” muttered Captain Smollett. “Load +his gun, Hawkins. How many should say there were on your side, doctor?” + +“I know precisely,” said Dr. Livesey. “Three shots were fired on this +side. I saw the three flashes--two close together--one farther to the +west.” + +“Three!” repeated the captain. “And how many on yours, Mr. Trelawney?” + +But this was not so easily answered. There had come many from the +north--seven by the squire’s computation, eight or nine according to +Gray. From the east and west only a single shot had been fired. It was +plain, therefore, that the attack would be developed from the north and +that on the other three sides we were only to be annoyed by a show of +hostilities. But Captain Smollett made no change in his arrangements. If +the mutineers succeeded in crossing the stockade, he argued, they would +take possession of any unprotected loophole and shoot us down like rats +in our own stronghold. + +Nor had we much time left to us for thought. Suddenly, with a loud +huzza, a little cloud of pirates leaped from the woods on the north side +and ran straight on the stockade. At the same moment, the fire was once +more opened from the woods, and a rifle ball sang through the doorway +and knocked the doctor’s musket into bits. + +The boarders swarmed over the fence like monkeys. Squire and Gray fired +again and yet again; three men fell, one forwards into the enclosure, +two back on the outside. But of these, one was evidently more frightened +than hurt, for he was on his feet again in a crack and instantly +disappeared among the trees. + +Two had bit the dust, one had fled, four had made good their footing +inside our defences, while from the shelter of the woods seven or eight +men, each evidently supplied with several muskets, kept up a hot though +useless fire on the log-house. + +The four who had boarded made straight before them for the building, +shouting as they ran, and the men among the trees shouted back to +encourage them. Several shots were fired, but such was the hurry of the +marksmen that not one appears to have taken effect. In a moment, the +four pirates had swarmed up the mound and were upon us. + +The head of Job Anderson, the boatswain, appeared at the middle +loophole. + +“At ’em, all hands--all hands!” he roared in a voice of thunder. + +At the same moment, another pirate grasped Hunter’s musket by the +muzzle, wrenched it from his hands, plucked it through the loophole, +and with one stunning blow, laid the poor fellow senseless on the floor. +Meanwhile a third, running unharmed all around the house, appeared +suddenly in the doorway and fell with his cutlass on the doctor. + +Our position was utterly reversed. A moment since we were firing, under +cover, at an exposed enemy; now it was we who lay uncovered and could +not return a blow. + +The log-house was full of smoke, to which we owed our comparative +safety. Cries and confusion, the flashes and reports of pistol-shots, +and one loud groan rang in my ears. + +“Out, lads, out, and fight ’em in the open! Cutlasses!” cried the +captain. + +I snatched a cutlass from the pile, and someone, at the same time +snatching another, gave me a cut across the knuckles which I hardly +felt. I dashed out of the door into the clear sunlight. Someone was +close behind, I knew not whom. Right in front, the doctor was pursuing +his assailant down the hill, and just as my eyes fell upon him, beat +down his guard and sent him sprawling on his back with a great slash +across the face. + +“Round the house, lads! Round the house!” cried the captain; and even in +the hurly-burly, I perceived a change in his voice. + +Mechanically, I obeyed, turned eastwards, and with my cutlass raised, +ran round the corner of the house. Next moment I was face to face +with Anderson. He roared aloud, and his hanger went up above his head, +flashing in the sunlight. I had not time to be afraid, but as the blow +still hung impending, leaped in a trice upon one side, and missing my +foot in the soft sand, rolled headlong down the slope. + +When I had first sallied from the door, the other mutineers had been +already swarming up the palisade to make an end of us. One man, in a red +night-cap, with his cutlass in his mouth, had even got upon the top and +thrown a leg across. Well, so short had been the interval that when I +found my feet again all was in the same posture, the fellow with the red +night-cap still half-way over, another still just showing his head above +the top of the stockade. And yet, in this breath of time, the fight was +over and the victory was ours. + +Gray, following close behind me, had cut down the big boatswain ere +he had time to recover from his last blow. Another had been shot at a +loophole in the very act of firing into the house and now lay in agony, +the pistol still smoking in his hand. A third, as I had seen, the doctor +had disposed of at a blow. Of the four who had scaled the palisade, one +only remained unaccounted for, and he, having left his cutlass on the +field, was now clambering out again with the fear of death upon him. + +“Fire--fire from the house!” cried the doctor. “And you, lads, back into +cover.” + +But his words were unheeded, no shot was fired, and the last boarder +made good his escape and disappeared with the rest into the wood. In +three seconds nothing remained of the attacking party but the five who +had fallen, four on the inside and one on the outside of the palisade. + +The doctor and Gray and I ran full speed for shelter. The survivors +would soon be back where they had left their muskets, and at any moment +the fire might recommence. + +The house was by this time somewhat cleared of smoke, and we saw at +a glance the price we had paid for victory. Hunter lay beside his +loophole, stunned; Joyce by his, shot through the head, never to move +again; while right in the centre, the squire was supporting the captain, +one as pale as the other. + +“The captain’s wounded,” said Mr. Trelawney. + +“Have they run?” asked Mr. Smollett. + +“All that could, you may be bound,” returned the doctor; “but there’s +five of them will never run again.” + +“Five!” cried the captain. “Come, that’s better. Five against three +leaves us four to nine. That’s better odds than we had at starting. We +were seven to nineteen then, or thought we were, and that’s as bad to +bear.” * + +*The mutineers were soon only eight in number, for the man shot by Mr. +Trelawney on board the schooner died that same evening of his wound. But +this was, of course, not known till after by the faithful party. + + + + + + +PART FIVE--My Sea Adventure + + + + +22 + +How My Sea Adventure Began + +THERE was no return of the mutineers--not so much as another shot out of +the woods. They had “got their rations for that day,” as the captain put +it, and we had the place to ourselves and a quiet time to overhaul the +wounded and get dinner. Squire and I cooked outside in spite of the +danger, and even outside we could hardly tell what we were at, for +horror of the loud groans that reached us from the doctor’s patients. + +Out of the eight men who had fallen in the action, only three still +breathed--that one of the pirates who had been shot at the loophole, +Hunter, and Captain Smollett; and of these, the first two were as good +as dead; the mutineer indeed died under the doctor’s knife, and Hunter, +do what we could, never recovered consciousness in this world. He +lingered all day, breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in his +apoplectic fit, but the bones of his chest had been crushed by the +blow and his skull fractured in falling, and some time in the following +night, without sign or sound, he went to his Maker. + +As for the captain, his wounds were grievous indeed, but not dangerous. +No organ was fatally injured. Anderson’s ball--for it was Job that +shot him first--had broken his shoulder-blade and touched the lung, not +badly; the second had only torn and displaced some muscles in the calf. +He was sure to recover, the doctor said, but in the meantime, and for +weeks to come, he must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much as speak +when he could help it. + +My own accidental cut across the knuckles was a flea-bite. Doctor +Livesey patched it up with plaster and pulled my ears for me into the +bargain. + +After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the captain’s side awhile +in consultation; and when they had talked to their hearts’ content, it +being then a little past noon, the doctor took up his hat and pistols, +girt on a cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and with a musket over +his shoulder crossed the palisade on the north side and set off briskly +through the trees. + +Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the block house, to +be out of earshot of our officers consulting; and Gray took his pipe out +of his mouth and fairly forgot to put it back again, so thunder-struck +he was at this occurrence. + +“Why, in the name of Davy Jones,” said he, “is Dr. Livesey mad?” + +“Why no,” says I. “He’s about the last of this crew for that, I take +it.” + +“Well, shipmate,” said Gray, “mad he may not be; but if HE’S not, you +mark my words, I am.” + +“I take it,” replied I, “the doctor has his idea; and if I am right, +he’s going now to see Ben Gunn.” + +I was right, as appeared later; but in the meantime, the house being +stifling hot and the little patch of sand inside the palisade ablaze +with midday sun, I began to get another thought into my head, which was +not by any means so right. What I began to do was to envy the doctor +walking in the cool shadow of the woods with the birds about him and the +pleasant smell of the pines, while I sat grilling, with my clothes +stuck to the hot resin, and so much blood about me and so many poor +dead bodies lying all around that I took a disgust of the place that was +almost as strong as fear. + +All the time I was washing out the block house, and then washing up +the things from dinner, this disgust and envy kept growing stronger +and stronger, till at last, being near a bread-bag, and no one then +observing me, I took the first step towards my escapade and filled both +pockets of my coat with biscuit. + +I was a fool, if you like, and certainly I was going to do a foolish, +over-bold act; but I was determined to do it with all the precautions in +my power. These biscuits, should anything befall me, would keep me, at +least, from starving till far on in the next day. + +The next thing I laid hold of was a brace of pistols, and as I already +had a powder-horn and bullets, I felt myself well supplied with arms. + +As for the scheme I had in my head, it was not a bad one in itself. I +was to go down the sandy spit that divides the anchorage on the east +from the open sea, find the white rock I had observed last evening, and +ascertain whether it was there or not that Ben Gunn had hidden his boat, +a thing quite worth doing, as I still believe. But as I was certain I +should not be allowed to leave the enclosure, my only plan was to take +French leave and slip out when nobody was watching, and that was so bad +a way of doing it as made the thing itself wrong. But I was only a boy, +and I had made my mind up. + +Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirable opportunity. The +squire and Gray were busy helping the captain with his bandages, the +coast was clear, I made a bolt for it over the stockade and into the +thickest of the trees, and before my absence was observed I was out of +cry of my companions. + +This was my second folly, far worse than the first, as I left but two +sound men to guard the house; but like the first, it was a help towards +saving all of us. + +I took my way straight for the east coast of the island, for I was +determined to go down the sea side of the spit to avoid all chance of +observation from the anchorage. It was already late in the afternoon, +although still warm and sunny. As I continued to thread the tall woods, +I could hear from far before me not only the continuous thunder of the +surf, but a certain tossing of foliage and grinding of boughs which +showed me the sea breeze had set in higher than usual. Soon cool +draughts of air began to reach me, and a few steps farther I came forth +into the open borders of the grove, and saw the sea lying blue and sunny +to the horizon and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the +beach. + +I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might +blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and +blue, but still these great rollers would be running along all the +external coast, thundering and thundering by day and night; and I scarce +believe there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of +earshot of their noise. + +I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment, till, thinking +I was now got far enough to the south, I took the cover of some thick +bushes and crept warily up to the ridge of the spit. + +Behind me was the sea, in front the anchorage. The sea breeze, as though +it had the sooner blown itself out by its unusual violence, was already +at an end; it had been succeeded by light, variable airs from the south +and south-east, carrying great banks of fog; and the anchorage, under +lee of Skeleton Island, lay still and leaden as when first we entered +it. The HISPANIOLA, in that unbroken mirror, was exactly portrayed from +the truck to the waterline, the Jolly Roger hanging from her peak. + +Alongside lay one of the gigs, Silver in the stern-sheets--him I could +always recognize--while a couple of men were leaning over the stern +bulwarks, one of them with a red cap--the very rogue that I had seen +some hours before stride-legs upon the palisade. Apparently they were +talking and laughing, though at that distance--upwards of a mile--I +could, of course, hear no word of what was said. All at once there began +the most horrid, unearthly screaming, which at first startled me badly, +though I had soon remembered the voice of Captain Flint and even thought +I could make out the bird by her bright plumage as she sat perched upon +her master’s wrist. + +Soon after, the jolly-boat shoved off and pulled for shore, and the man +with the red cap and his comrade went below by the cabin companion. + +Just about the same time, the sun had gone down behind the Spy-glass, +and as the fog was collecting rapidly, it began to grow dark in earnest. +I saw I must lose no time if I were to find the boat that evening. + +The white rock, visible enough above the brush, was still some eighth of +a mile further down the spit, and it took me a goodish while to get up +with it, crawling, often on all fours, among the scrub. Night had almost +come when I laid my hand on its rough sides. Right below it there was +an exceedingly small hollow of green turf, hidden by banks and a thick +underwood about knee-deep, that grew there very plentifully; and in the +centre of the dell, sure enough, a little tent of goat-skins, like what +the gipsies carry about with them in England. + +I dropped into the hollow, lifted the side of the tent, and there was +Ben Gunn’s boat--home-made if ever anything was home-made; a rude, +lop-sided framework of tough wood, and stretched upon that a covering of +goat-skin, with the hair inside. The thing was extremely small, even +for me, and I can hardly imagine that it could have floated with a +full-sized man. There was one thwart set as low as possible, a kind of +stretcher in the bows, and a double paddle for propulsion. + +I had not then seen a coracle, such as the ancient Britons made, but +I have seen one since, and I can give you no fairer idea of Ben Gunn’s +boat than by saying it was like the first and the worst coracle ever +made by man. But the great advantage of the coracle it certainly +possessed, for it was exceedingly light and portable. + +Well, now that I had found the boat, you would have thought I had had +enough of truantry for once, but in the meantime I had taken another +notion and become so obstinately fond of it that I would have carried +it out, I believe, in the teeth of Captain Smollett himself. This was +to slip out under cover of the night, cut the HISPANIOLA adrift, and let +her go ashore where she fancied. I had quite made up my mind that the +mutineers, after their repulse of the morning, had nothing nearer their +hearts than to up anchor and away to sea; this, I thought, it would be +a fine thing to prevent, and now that I had seen how they left their +watchmen unprovided with a boat, I thought it might be done with little +risk. + +Down I sat to wait for darkness, and made a hearty meal of biscuit. It +was a night out of ten thousand for my purpose. The fog had now buried +all heaven. As the last rays of daylight dwindled and disappeared, +absolute blackness settled down on Treasure Island. And when, at last, +I shouldered the coracle and groped my way stumblingly out of the hollow +where I had supped, there were but two points visible on the whole +anchorage. + +One was the great fire on shore, by which the defeated pirates lay +carousing in the swamp. The other, a mere blur of light upon the +darkness, indicated the position of the anchored ship. She had swung +round to the ebb--her bow was now towards me--the only lights on board +were in the cabin, and what I saw was merely a reflection on the fog of +the strong rays that flowed from the stern window. + +The ebb had already run some time, and I had to wade through a long belt +of swampy sand, where I sank several times above the ankle, before I +came to the edge of the retreating water, and wading a little way in, +with some strength and dexterity, set my coracle, keel downwards, on the +surface. + + + + +23 + +The Ebb-tide Runs + +THE coracle--as I had ample reason to know before I was done with +her--was a very safe boat for a person of my height and weight, both +buoyant and clever in a seaway; but she was the most cross-grained, +lop-sided craft to manage. Do as you pleased, she always made more +leeway than anything else, and turning round and round was the manoeuvre +she was best at. Even Ben Gunn himself has admitted that she was “queer +to handle till you knew her way.” + +Certainly I did not know her way. She turned in every direction but the +one I was bound to go; the most part of the time we were broadside on, +and I am very sure I never should have made the ship at all but for the +tide. By good fortune, paddle as I pleased, the tide was still sweeping +me down; and there lay the HISPANIOLA right in the fairway, hardly to be +missed. + +First she loomed before me like a blot of something yet blacker than +darkness, then her spars and hull began to take shape, and the next +moment, as it seemed (for, the farther I went, the brisker grew the +current of the ebb), I was alongside of her hawser and had laid hold. + +The hawser was as taut as a bowstring, and the current so strong she +pulled upon her anchor. All round the hull, in the blackness, the +rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little mountain stream. +One cut with my sea-gully and the HISPANIOLA would go humming down the +tide. + +So far so good, but it next occurred to my recollection that a taut +hawser, suddenly cut, is a thing as dangerous as a kicking horse. Ten to +one, if I were so foolhardy as to cut the HISPANIOLA from her anchor, I +and the coracle would be knocked clean out of the water. + +This brought me to a full stop, and if fortune had not again +particularly favoured me, I should have had to abandon my design. But +the light airs which had begun blowing from the south-east and south +had hauled round after nightfall into the south-west. Just while I was +meditating, a puff came, caught the HISPANIOLA, and forced her up into +the current; and to my great joy, I felt the hawser slacken in my grasp, +and the hand by which I held it dip for a second under water. + +With that I made my mind up, took out my gully, opened it with my teeth, +and cut one strand after another, till the vessel swung only by two. +Then I lay quiet, waiting to sever these last when the strain should be +once more lightened by a breath of wind. + +All this time I had heard the sound of loud voices from the cabin, but +to say truth, my mind had been so entirely taken up with other thoughts +that I had scarcely given ear. Now, however, when I had nothing else to +do, I began to pay more heed. + +One I recognized for the coxswain’s, Israel Hands, that had been Flint’s +gunner in former days. The other was, of course, my friend of the red +night-cap. Both men were plainly the worse of drink, and they were still +drinking, for even while I was listening, one of them, with a drunken +cry, opened the stern window and threw out something, which I divined to +be an empty bottle. But they were not only tipsy; it was plain that they +were furiously angry. Oaths flew like hailstones, and every now and +then there came forth such an explosion as I thought was sure to end +in blows. But each time the quarrel passed off and the voices grumbled +lower for a while, until the next crisis came and in its turn passed +away without result. + +On shore, I could see the glow of the great camp-fire burning warmly +through the shore-side trees. Someone was singing, a dull, old, droning +sailor’s song, with a droop and a quaver at the end of every verse, +and seemingly no end to it at all but the patience of the singer. I had +heard it on the voyage more than once and remembered these words: + + “But one man of her crew alive, + What put to sea with seventy-five.” + +And I thought it was a ditty rather too dolefully appropriate for a +company that had met such cruel losses in the morning. But, indeed, from +what I saw, all these buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed +on. + +At last the breeze came; the schooner sidled and drew nearer in the +dark; I felt the hawser slacken once more, and with a good, tough +effort, cut the last fibres through. + +The breeze had but little action on the coracle, and I was almost +instantly swept against the bows of the HISPANIOLA. At the same time, +the schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end, +across the current. + +I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every moment to be swamped; and +since I found I could not push the coracle directly off, I now shoved +straight astern. At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbour, and +just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands came across a light cord +that was trailing overboard across the stern bulwarks. Instantly I +grasped it. + +Why I should have done so I can hardly say. It was at first mere +instinct, but once I had it in my hands and found it fast, curiosity +began to get the upper hand, and I determined I should have one look +through the cabin window. + +I pulled in hand over hand on the cord, and when I judged myself near +enough, rose at infinite risk to about half my height and thus commanded +the roof and a slice of the interior of the cabin. + +By this time the schooner and her little consort were gliding pretty +swiftly through the water; indeed, we had already fetched up level with +the camp-fire. The ship was talking, as sailors say, loudly, treading +the innumerable ripples with an incessant weltering splash; and until I +got my eye above the window-sill I could not comprehend why the watchmen +had taken no alarm. One glance, however, was sufficient; and it was +only one glance that I durst take from that unsteady skiff. It showed me +Hands and his companion locked together in deadly wrestle, each with a +hand upon the other’s throat. + +I dropped upon the thwart again, none too soon, for I was near +overboard. I could see nothing for the moment but these two furious, +encrimsoned faces swaying together under the smoky lamp, and I shut my +eyes to let them grow once more familiar with the darkness. + +The endless ballad had come to an end at last, and the whole diminished +company about the camp-fire had broken into the chorus I had heard so +often: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! + Drink and the devil had done for the rest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very +moment in the cabin of the HISPANIOLA, when I was surprised by a sudden +lurch of the coracle. At the same moment, she yawed sharply and seemed +to change her course. The speed in the meantime had strangely increased. + +I opened my eyes at once. All round me were little ripples, combing +over with a sharp, bristling sound and slightly phosphorescent. The +HISPANIOLA herself, a few yards in whose wake I was still being whirled +along, seemed to stagger in her course, and I saw her spars toss a +little against the blackness of the night; nay, as I looked longer, I +made sure she also was wheeling to the southward. + +I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart jumped against my ribs. There, +right behind me, was the glow of the camp-fire. The current had turned +at right angles, sweeping round along with it the tall schooner and +the little dancing coracle; ever quickening, ever bubbling higher, ever +muttering louder, it went spinning through the narrows for the open sea. + +Suddenly the schooner in front of me gave a violent yaw, turning, +perhaps, through twenty degrees; and almost at the same moment one +shout followed another from on board; I could hear feet pounding on +the companion ladder and I knew that the two drunkards had at last been +interrupted in their quarrel and awakened to a sense of their disaster. + +I lay down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff and devoutly +recommended my spirit to its Maker. At the end of the straits, I +made sure we must fall into some bar of raging breakers, where all my +troubles would be ended speedily; and though I could, perhaps, bear to +die, I could not bear to look upon my fate as it approached. + +So I must have lain for hours, continually beaten to and fro upon the +billows, now and again wetted with flying sprays, and never ceasing to +expect death at the next plunge. Gradually weariness grew upon me; a +numbness, an occasional stupor, fell upon my mind even in the midst of +my terrors, until sleep at last supervened and in my sea-tossed coracle +I lay and dreamed of home and the old Admiral Benbow. + + + + +24 + +The Cruise of the Coracle + +IT was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the south-west +end of Treasure Island. The sun was up but was still hid from me behind +the great bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to +the sea in formidable cliffs. + +Haulbowline Head and Mizzen-mast Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare +and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and +fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a +mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land. + +That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen rocks the breakers +spouted and bellowed; loud reverberations, heavy sprays flying and +falling, succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw myself, +if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore or spending +my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags. + +Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of rock or +letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports I beheld huge +slimy monsters--soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness--two +or three score of them together, making the rocks to echo with their +barkings. + +I have understood since that they were sea lions, and entirely harmless. +But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the +high running of the surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that +landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront +such perils. + +In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, before me. North +of Haulbowline Head, the land runs in a long way, leaving at low tide +a long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes +another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon the chart--buried +in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea. + +I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward +along the whole west coast of Treasure Island, and seeing from my +position that I was already under its influence, I preferred to leave +Haulbowline Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to +land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods. + +There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind blowing steady +and gentle from the south, there was no contrariety between that and the +current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken. + +Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished; but as it was, +it is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could +ride. Often, as I still lay at the bottom and kept no more than an eye +above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me; +yet the coracle would but bounce a little, dance as if on springs, and +subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird. + +I began after a little to grow very bold and sat up to try my skill at +paddling. But even a small change in the disposition of the weight will +produce violent changes in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had hardly +moved before the boat, giving up at once her gentle dancing movement, +ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and +struck her nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the next +wave. + +I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old +position, whereupon the coracle seemed to find her head again and led +me as softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be +interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no way influence her +course, what hope had I left of reaching land? + +I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for all that. +First, moving with all care, I gradually baled out the coracle with my +sea-cap; then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself +to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers. + +I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth glossy mountain it looks +from shore or from a vessel’s deck, was for all the world like any range +of hills on dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The +coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side, threaded, so to +speak, her way through these lower parts and avoided the steep slopes +and higher, toppling summits of the wave. + +“Well, now,” thought I to myself, “it is plain I must lie where I am and +not disturb the balance; but it is plain also that I can put the paddle +over the side and from time to time, in smooth places, give her a shove +or two towards land.” No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on +my elbows in the most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a +weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore. + +It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground; and as +we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I must infallibly +miss that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was, +indeed, close in. I could see the cool green tree-tops swaying together +in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without +fail. + +It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow +of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, the +sea-water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, +combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. The sight of the +trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing, but the +current had soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea +opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts. + +Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the HISPANIOLA +under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken; but I was +so distressed for want of water that I scarce knew whether to be glad +or sorry at the thought, and long before I had come to a conclusion, +surprise had taken entire possession of my mind and I could do nothing +but stare and wonder. + +The HISPANIOLA was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful +white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first +sighted her, all her sails were drawing; she was lying a course about +north-west, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island +on their way back to the anchorage. Presently she began to fetch more +and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were +going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind’s +eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her +sails shivering. + +“Clumsy fellows,” said I; “they must still be drunk as owls.” And I +thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping. + +Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another +tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead +in the wind’s eye. Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and +down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA sailed by swoops +and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with idly +flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering. And if +so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk or had deserted her, +I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board I might return the vessel +to her captain. + +The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate. +As for the latter’s sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she +hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if +she did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and paddle, I made +sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure +that inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the fore +companion doubled my growing courage. + +Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, but +this time stuck to my purpose and set myself, with all my strength and +caution, to paddle after the unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped a sea +so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like +a bird, but gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my +coracle among the waves, with only now and then a blow upon her bows and +a dash of foam in my face. + +I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner; I could see the brass glisten +on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her +decks. I could not choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men +were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps, and do +what I chose with the ship. + +For some time she had been doing the worse thing possible for +me--standing still. She headed nearly due south, yawing, of course, all +the time. Each time she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these +brought her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said this was +the worst thing possible for me, for helpless as she looked in this +situation, with the canvas cracking like cannon and the blocks trundling +and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from me, not +only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her +leeway, which was naturally great. + +But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell for some seconds, +very low, and the current gradually turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved +slowly round her centre and at last presented me her stern, with the +cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the table still burning +on into the day. The main-sail hung drooped like a banner. She was +stock-still but for the current. + +For the last little while I had even lost, but now redoubling my +efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase. + +I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap; +she filled on the port tack and was off again, stooping and skimming +like a swallow. + +My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy. +Round she came, till she was broadside on to me--round still till she +had covered a half and then two thirds and then three quarters of the +distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under +her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me from my low station in the +coracle. + +And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to +think--scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one +swell when the schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was +over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping the coracle under +water. With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged +between the stay and the brace; and as I still clung there panting, a +dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the +coracle and that I was left without retreat on the HISPANIOLA. + + + + +25 + +I Strike the Jolly Roger + +I HAD scarce gained a position on the bowsprit when the flying jib +flapped and filled upon the other tack, with a report like a gun. The +schooner trembled to her keel under the reverse, but next moment, the +other sails still drawing, the jib flapped back again and hung idle. + +This had nearly tossed me off into the sea; and now I lost no time, +crawled back along the bowsprit, and tumbled head foremost on the deck. + +I was on the lee side of the forecastle, and the mainsail, which was +still drawing, concealed from me a certain portion of the after-deck. +Not a soul was to be seen. The planks, which had not been swabbed since +the mutiny, bore the print of many feet, and an empty bottle, broken by +the neck, tumbled to and fro like a live thing in the scuppers. + +Suddenly the HISPANIOLA came right into the wind. The jibs behind me +cracked aloud, the rudder slammed to, the whole ship gave a sickening +heave and shudder, and at the same moment the main-boom swung inboard, +the sheet groaning in the blocks, and showed me the lee after-deck. + +There were the two watchmen, sure enough: red-cap on his back, as stiff +as a handspike, with his arms stretched out like those of a crucifix and +his teeth showing through his open lips; Israel Hands propped against +the bulwarks, his chin on his chest, his hands lying open before him on +the deck, his face as white, under its tan, as a tallow candle. + +For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a vicious horse, the +sails filling, now on one tack, now on another, and the boom swinging to +and fro till the mast groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again too +there would come a cloud of light sprays over the bulwark and a heavy +blow of the ship’s bows against the swell; so much heavier weather was +made of it by this great rigged ship than by my home-made, lop-sided +coracle, now gone to the bottom of the sea. + +At every jump of the schooner, red-cap slipped to and fro, but--what was +ghastly to behold--neither his attitude nor his fixed teeth-disclosing +grin was anyway disturbed by this rough usage. At every jump too, Hands +appeared still more to sink into himself and settle down upon the +deck, his feet sliding ever the farther out, and the whole body canting +towards the stern, so that his face became, little by little, hid +from me; and at last I could see nothing beyond his ear and the frayed +ringlet of one whisker. + +At the same time, I observed, around both of them, splashes of dark +blood upon the planks and began to feel sure that they had killed each +other in their drunken wrath. + +While I was thus looking and wondering, in a calm moment, when the ship +was still, Israel Hands turned partly round and with a low moan writhed +himself back to the position in which I had seen him first. The moan, +which told of pain and deadly weakness, and the way in which his jaw +hung open went right to my heart. But when I remembered the talk I had +overheard from the apple barrel, all pity left me. + +I walked aft until I reached the main-mast. + +“Come aboard, Mr. Hands,” I said ironically. + +He rolled his eyes round heavily, but he was too far gone to express +surprise. All he could do was to utter one word, “Brandy.” + +It occurred to me there was no time to lose, and dodging the boom as it +once more lurched across the deck, I slipped aft and down the companion +stairs into the cabin. + +It was such a scene of confusion as you can hardly fancy. All the +lockfast places had been broken open in quest of the chart. The floor +was thick with mud where ruffians had sat down to drink or consult after +wading in the marshes round their camp. The bulkheads, all painted in +clear white and beaded round with gilt, bore a pattern of dirty hands. +Dozens of empty bottles clinked together in corners to the rolling of +the ship. One of the doctor’s medical books lay open on the table, half +of the leaves gutted out, I suppose, for pipelights. In the midst of all +this the lamp still cast a smoky glow, obscure and brown as umber. + +I went into the cellar; all the barrels were gone, and of the bottles +a most surprising number had been drunk out and thrown away. Certainly, +since the mutiny began, not a man of them could ever have been sober. + +Foraging about, I found a bottle with some brandy left, for Hands; and +for myself I routed out some biscuit, some pickled fruits, a great bunch +of raisins, and a piece of cheese. With these I came on deck, put down +my own stock behind the rudder head and well out of the coxswain’s +reach, went forward to the water-breaker, and had a good deep drink of +water, and then, and not till then, gave Hands the brandy. + +He must have drunk a gill before he took the bottle from his mouth. + +“Aye,” said he, “by thunder, but I wanted some o’ that!” + +I had sat down already in my own corner and begun to eat. + +“Much hurt?” I asked him. + +He grunted, or rather, I might say, he barked. + +“If that doctor was aboard,” he said, “I’d be right enough in a couple +of turns, but I don’t have no manner of luck, you see, and that’s what’s +the matter with me. As for that swab, he’s good and dead, he is,” he +added, indicating the man with the red cap. “He warn’t no seaman anyhow. +And where mought you have come from?” + +“Well,” said I, “I’ve come aboard to take possession of this ship, +Mr. Hands; and you’ll please regard me as your captain until further +notice.” + +He looked at me sourly enough but said nothing. Some of the colour had +come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick and still +continued to slip out and settle down as the ship banged about. + +“By the by,” I continued, “I can’t have these colours, Mr. Hands; and by +your leave, I’ll strike ’em. Better none than these.” + +And again dodging the boom, I ran to the colour lines, handed down their +cursed black flag, and chucked it overboard. + +“God save the king!” said I, waving my cap. “And there’s an end to +Captain Silver!” + +He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast. + +“I reckon,” he said at last, “I reckon, Cap’n Hawkins, you’ll kind of +want to get ashore now. S’pose we talks.” + +“Why, yes,” says I, “with all my heart, Mr. Hands. Say on.” And I went +back to my meal with a good appetite. + +“This man,” he began, nodding feebly at the corpse “--O’Brien were his +name, a rank Irelander--this man and me got the canvas on her, meaning +for to sail her back. Well, HE’S dead now, he is--as dead as bilge; and +who’s to sail this ship, I don’t see. Without I gives you a hint, you +ain’t that man, as far’s I can tell. Now, look here, you gives me food +and drink and a old scarf or ankecher to tie my wound up, you do, and +I’ll tell you how to sail her, and that’s about square all round, I take +it.” + +“I’ll tell you one thing,” says I: “I’m not going back to Captain Kidd’s +anchorage. I mean to get into North Inlet and beach her quietly there.” + +“To be sure you did,” he cried. “Why, I ain’t sich an infernal lubber +after all. I can see, can’t I? I’ve tried my fling, I have, and I’ve +lost, and it’s you has the wind of me. North Inlet? Why, I haven’t no +ch’ice, not I! I’d help you sail her up to Execution Dock, by thunder! +So I would.” + +Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this. We struck our +bargain on the spot. In three minutes I had the HISPANIOLA sailing +easily before the wind along the coast of Treasure Island, with good +hopes of turning the northern point ere noon and beating down again as +far as North Inlet before high water, when we might beach her safely and +wait till the subsiding tide permitted us to land. + +Then I lashed the tiller and went below to my own chest, where I got a +soft silk handkerchief of my mother’s. With this, and with my aid, Hands +bound up the great bleeding stab he had received in the thigh, and after +he had eaten a little and had a swallow or two more of the brandy, he +began to pick up visibly, sat straighter up, spoke louder and clearer, +and looked in every way another man. + +The breeze served us admirably. We skimmed before it like a bird, the +coast of the island flashing by and the view changing every minute. +Soon we were past the high lands and bowling beside low, sandy country, +sparsely dotted with dwarf pines, and soon we were beyond that again +and had turned the corner of the rocky hill that ends the island on the +north. + +I was greatly elated with my new command, and pleased with the bright, +sunshiny weather and these different prospects of the coast. I had now +plenty of water and good things to eat, and my conscience, which had +smitten me hard for my desertion, was quieted by the great conquest I +had made. I should, I think, have had nothing left me to desire but for +the eyes of the coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck +and the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. It was a smile +that had in it something both of pain and weakness--a haggard old man’s +smile; but there was, besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of +treachery, in his expression as he craftily watched, and watched, and +watched me at my work. + + + + +26 + +Israel Hands + +THE wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run +so much the easier from the north-east corner of the island to the mouth +of the North Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor and dared not +beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our +hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship to; after a good many +trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal. + +“Cap’n,” said he at length with that same uncomfortable smile, “here’s +my old shipmate, O’Brien; s’pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain’t +partic’lar as a rule, and I don’t take no blame for settling his hash, +but I don’t reckon him ornamental now, do you?” + +“I’m not strong enough, and I don’t like the job; and there he lies, for +me,” said I. + +“This here’s an unlucky ship, this HISPANIOLA, Jim,” he went on, +blinking. “There’s a power of men been killed in this HISPANIOLA--a +sight o’ poor seamen dead and gone since you and me took ship to +Bristol. I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here +O’Brien now--he’s dead, ain’t he? Well now, I’m no scholar, and you’re a +lad as can read and figure, and to put it straight, do you take it as a +dead man is dead for good, or do he come alive again?” + +“You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know +that already,” I replied. “O’Brien there is in another world, and may be +watching us.” + +“Ah!” says he. “Well, that’s unfort’nate--appears as if killing parties +was a waste of time. Howsomever, sperrits don’t reckon for much, by what +I’ve seen. I’ll chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you’ve spoke +up free, and I’ll take it kind if you’d step down into that there cabin +and get me a--well, a--shiver my timbers! I can’t hit the name on ’t; +well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim--this here brandy’s too strong +for my head.” + +Now, the coxswain’s hesitation seemed to be unnatural, and as for the +notion of his preferring wine to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The +whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck--so much was +plain; but with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never +met mine; they kept wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look +to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O’Brien. All the +time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in the most guilty, +embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on +some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where +my advantage lay and that with a fellow so densely stupid I could easily +conceal my suspicions to the end. + +“Some wine?” I said. “Far better. Will you have white or red?” + +“Well, I reckon it’s about the blessed same to me, shipmate,” he +replied; “so it’s strong, and plenty of it, what’s the odds?” + +“All right,” I answered. “I’ll bring you port, Mr. Hands. But I’ll have +to dig for it.” + +With that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could, +slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the +forecastle ladder, and popped my head out of the fore companion. I +knew he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution +possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true. + +He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his +leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved--for I could hear +him stifle a groan--yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he trailed +himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port +scuppers and picked, out of a coil of rope, a long knife, or rather a +short dirk, discoloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for +a moment, thrusting forth his under jaw, tried the point upon his hand, +and then, hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled +back again into his old place against the bulwark. + +This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about, he was +now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me, +it was plain that I was meant to be the victim. What he would do +afterwards--whether he would try to crawl right across the island from +North Inlet to the camp among the swamps or whether he would fire Long +Tom, trusting that his own comrades might come first to help him--was, +of course, more than I could say. + +Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that +our interests jumped together, and that was in the disposition of +the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough, in a +sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be got off +again with as little labour and danger as might be; and until that was +done I considered that my life would certainly be spared. + +While I was thus turning the business over in my mind, I had not been +idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin, slipped once more +into my shoes, and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now, +with this for an excuse, I made my reappearance on the deck. + +Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle and with +his eyelids lowered as though he were too weak to bear the light. He +looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle like +a man who had done the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his +favourite toast of “Here’s luck!” Then he lay quiet for a little, and +then, pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid. + +“Cut me a junk o’ that,” says he, “for I haven’t no knife and hardly +strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I’ve missed +stays! Cut me a quid, as’ll likely be the last, lad, for I’m for my long +home, and no mistake.” + +“Well,” said I, “I’ll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you and thought +myself so badly, I would go to my prayers like a Christian man.” + +“Why?” said he. “Now, you tell me why.” + +“Why?” I cried. “You were asking me just now about the dead. You’ve +broken your trust; you’ve lived in sin and lies and blood; there’s a man +you killed lying at your feet this moment, and you ask me why! For God’s +mercy, Mr. Hands, that’s why.” + +I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody dirk he had hidden +in his pocket and designed, in his ill thoughts, to end me with. He, +for his part, took a great draught of the wine and spoke with the most +unusual solemnity. + +“For thirty years,” he said, “I’ve sailed the seas and seen good and +bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, +knives going, and what not. Well, now I tell you, I never seen good come +o’ goodness yet. Him as strikes first is my fancy; dead men don’t bite; +them’s my views--amen, so be it. And now, you look here,” he added, +suddenly changing his tone, “we’ve had about enough of this foolery. The +tide’s made good enough by now. You just take my orders, Cap’n Hawkins, +and we’ll sail slap in and be done with it.” + +All told, we had scarce two miles to run; but the navigation was +delicate, the entrance to this northern anchorage was not only narrow +and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner must be nicely +handled to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt subaltern, and I am +very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot, for we went about and about +and dodged in, shaving the banks, with a certainty and a neatness that +were a pleasure to behold. + +Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land closed around us. The +shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those of the southern +anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower and more like, what in +truth it was, the estuary of a river. Right before us, at the southern +end, we saw the wreck of a ship in the last stages of dilapidation. It +had been a great vessel of three masts but had lain so long exposed to +the injuries of the weather that it was hung about with great webs of +dripping seaweed, and on the deck of it shore bushes had taken root and +now flourished thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us +that the anchorage was calm. + +“Now,” said Hands, “look there; there’s a pet bit for to beach a ship +in. Fine flat sand, never a cat’s paw, trees all around of it, and +flowers a-blowing like a garding on that old ship.” + +“And once beached,” I inquired, “how shall we get her off again?” + +“Why, so,” he replied: “you take a line ashore there on the other side +at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines; bring it back, +take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide. Come high +water, all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as sweet +as natur’. And now, boy, you stand by. We’re near the bit now, and she’s +too much way on her. Starboard a little--so--steady--starboard--larboard +a little--steady--steady!” + +So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed, till, all of a +sudden, he cried, “Now, my hearty, luff!” And I put the helm hard up, +and the HISPANIOLA swung round rapidly and ran stem on for the low, +wooded shore. + +The excitement of these last manoeuvres had somewhat interfered with the +watch I had kept hitherto, sharply enough, upon the coxswain. Even then +I was still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, that I +had quite forgot the peril that hung over my head and stood craning over +the starboard bulwarks and watching the ripples spreading wide before +the bows. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life had not a +sudden disquietude seized upon me and made me turn my head. Perhaps I +had heard a creak or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye; +perhaps it was an instinct like a cat’s; but, sure enough, when I looked +round, there was Hands, already half-way towards me, with the dirk in +his right hand. + +We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met, but while mine +was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury like a charging +bully’s. At the same instant, he threw himself forward and I leapt +sideways towards the bows. As I did so, I let go of the tiller, which +sprang sharp to leeward, and I think this saved my life, for it struck +Hands across the chest and stopped him, for the moment, dead. + +Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner where he had me +trapped, with all the deck to dodge about. Just forward of the main-mast +I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had +already turned and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the +trigger. The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound; +the priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself for my neglect. +Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded my only weapons? Then +I should not have been as now, a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. + +Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled +hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign +with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor +indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I +saw plainly: I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily +hold me boxed into the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed +me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the +blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity. +I placed my palms against the main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness, +and waited, every nerve upon the stretch. + +Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused; and a moment or two passed +in feints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such +a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, +but never before, you may be sure, with such a wildly beating heart as +now. Still, as I say, it was a boy’s game, and I thought I could hold +my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed my +courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting +thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw +certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any +ultimate escape. + +Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the HISPANIOLA struck, +staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a +blow, canted over to the port side till the deck stood at an angle +of forty-five degrees and about a puncheon of water splashed into the +scupper holes and lay, in a pool, between the deck and bulwark. + +We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled, almost +together, into the scuppers, the dead red-cap, with his arms still +spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we, indeed, that my +head came against the coxswain’s foot with a crack that made my teeth +rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again, for Hands had got +involved with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the +deck no place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape, +and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as +thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, +and did not draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees. + +I had been saved by being prompt; the dirk had struck not half a foot +below me as I pursued my upward flight; and there stood Israel Hands +with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of +surprise and disappointment. + +Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the +priming of my pistol, and then, having one ready for service, and to +make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other +and recharge it afresh from the beginning. + +My new employment struck Hands all of a heap; he began to see the dice +going against him, and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled +himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk in his teeth, began +slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans +to haul his wounded leg behind him, and I had quietly finished my +arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then, +with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him. + +“One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, “and I’ll blow your brains out! Dead +men don’t bite, you know,” I added with a chuckle. + +He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was +trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that, in my +new-found security, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, he +spoke, his face still wearing the same expression of extreme perplexity. +In order to speak he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all +else he remained unmoved. + +“Jim,” says he, “I reckon we’re fouled, you and me, and we’ll have to +sign articles. I’d have had you but for that there lurch, but I don’t +have no luck, not I; and I reckon I’ll have to strike, which comes hard, +you see, for a master mariner to a ship’s younker like you, Jim.” + +I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as conceited as a cock +upon a wall, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand over his +shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air; I felt a blow +and then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned by the shoulder to the +mast. In the horrid pain and surprise of the moment--I scarce can say +it was by my own volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious +aim--both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They +did not fall alone; with a choked cry, the coxswain loosed his grasp +upon the shrouds and plunged head first into the water. + + + + +27 + +“Pieces of Eight” + +OWING to the cant of the vessel, the masts hung far out over the water, +and from my perch on the cross-trees I had nothing below me but the +surface of the bay. Hands, who was not so far up, was in consequence +nearer to the ship and fell between me and the bulwarks. He rose once to +the surface in a lather of foam and blood and then sank again for good. +As the water settled, I could see him lying huddled together on the +clean, bright sand in the shadow of the vessel’s sides. A fish or two +whipped past his body. Sometimes, by the quivering of the water, he +appeared to move a little, as if he were trying to rise. But he was dead +enough, for all that, being both shot and drowned, and was food for fish +in the very place where he had designed my slaughter. + +I was no sooner certain of this than I began to feel sick, faint, and +terrified. The hot blood was running over my back and chest. The dirk, +where it had pinned my shoulder to the mast, seemed to burn like a hot +iron; yet it was not so much these real sufferings that distressed me, +for these, it seemed to me, I could bear without a murmur; it was the +horror I had upon my mind of falling from the cross-trees into that +still green water, beside the body of the coxswain. + +I clung with both hands till my nails ached, and I shut my eyes as if to +cover up the peril. Gradually my mind came back again, my pulses quieted +down to a more natural time, and I was once more in possession of +myself. + +It was my first thought to pluck forth the dirk, but either it stuck too +hard or my nerve failed me, and I desisted with a violent shudder. Oddly +enough, that very shudder did the business. The knife, in fact, had come +the nearest in the world to missing me altogether; it held me by a mere +pinch of skin, and this the shudder tore away. The blood ran down the +faster, to be sure, but I was my own master again and only tacked to the +mast by my coat and shirt. + +These last I broke through with a sudden jerk, and then regained the +deck by the starboard shrouds. For nothing in the world would I have +again ventured, shaken as I was, upon the overhanging port shrouds from +which Israel had so lately fallen. + +I went below and did what I could for my wound; it pained me a good deal +and still bled freely, but it was neither deep nor dangerous, nor did it +greatly gall me when I used my arm. Then I looked around me, and as the +ship was now, in a sense, my own, I began to think of clearing it from +its last passenger--the dead man, O’Brien. + +He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, where he lay +like some horrible, ungainly sort of puppet, life-size, indeed, but how +different from life’s colour or life’s comeliness! In that position +I could easily have my way with him, and as the habit of tragical +adventures had worn off almost all my terror for the dead, I took him +by the waist as if he had been a sack of bran and with one good heave, +tumbled him overboard. He went in with a sounding plunge; the red cap +came off and remained floating on the surface; and as soon as the splash +subsided, I could see him and Israel lying side by side, both wavering +with the tremulous movement of the water. O’Brien, though still quite a +young man, was very bald. There he lay, with that bald head across the +knees of the man who had killed him and the quick fishes steering to and +fro over both. + +I was now alone upon the ship; the tide had just turned. The sun was +within so few degrees of setting that already the shadow of the pines +upon the western shore began to reach right across the anchorage and +fall in patterns on the deck. The evening breeze had sprung up, and +though it was well warded off by the hill with the two peaks upon the +east, the cordage had begun to sing a little softly to itself and the +idle sails to rattle to and fro. + +I began to see a danger to the ship. The jibs I speedily doused and +brought tumbling to the deck, but the main-sail was a harder matter. Of +course, when the schooner canted over, the boom had swung out-board, and +the cap of it and a foot or two of sail hung even under water. I thought +this made it still more dangerous; yet the strain was so heavy that I +half feared to meddle. At last I got my knife and cut the halyards. The +peak dropped instantly, a great belly of loose canvas floated broad upon +the water, and since, pull as I liked, I could not budge the downhall, +that was the extent of what I could accomplish. For the rest, the +HISPANIOLA must trust to luck, like myself. + +By this time the whole anchorage had fallen into shadow--the last rays, +I remember, falling through a glade of the wood and shining bright as +jewels on the flowery mantle of the wreck. It began to be chill; the +tide was rapidly fleeting seaward, the schooner settling more and more +on her beam-ends. + +I scrambled forward and looked over. It seemed shallow enough, and +holding the cut hawser in both hands for a last security, I let myself +drop softly overboard. The water scarcely reached my waist; the sand was +firm and covered with ripple marks, and I waded ashore in great spirits, +leaving the HISPANIOLA on her side, with her main-sail trailing wide +upon the surface of the bay. About the same time, the sun went fairly +down and the breeze whistled low in the dusk among the tossing pines. + +At least, and at last, I was off the sea, nor had I returned thence +empty-handed. There lay the schooner, clear at last from buccaneers +and ready for our own men to board and get to sea again. I had nothing +nearer my fancy than to get home to the stockade and boast of my +achievements. Possibly I might be blamed a bit for my truantry, but the +recapture of the HISPANIOLA was a clenching answer, and I hoped that +even Captain Smollett would confess I had not lost my time. + +So thinking, and in famous spirits, I began to set my face homeward for +the block house and my companions. I remembered that the most easterly +of the rivers which drain into Captain Kidd’s anchorage ran from the +two-peaked hill upon my left, and I bent my course in that direction +that I might pass the stream while it was small. The wood was pretty +open, and keeping along the lower spurs, I had soon turned the corner +of that hill, and not long after waded to the mid-calf across the +watercourse. + +This brought me near to where I had encountered Ben Gunn, the maroon; +and I walked more circumspectly, keeping an eye on every side. The dusk +had come nigh hand completely, and as I opened out the cleft between the +two peaks, I became aware of a wavering glow against the sky, where, as +I judged, the man of the island was cooking his supper before a roaring +fire. And yet I wondered, in my heart, that he should show himself so +careless. For if I could see this radiance, might it not reach the eyes +of Silver himself where he camped upon the shore among the marshes? + +Gradually the night fell blacker; it was all I could do to guide myself +even roughly towards my destination; the double hill behind me and the +Spy-glass on my right hand loomed faint and fainter; the stars were few +and pale; and in the low ground where I wandered I kept tripping among +bushes and rolling into sandy pits. + +Suddenly a kind of brightness fell about me. I looked up; a pale glimmer +of moonbeams had alighted on the summit of the Spy-glass, and soon after +I saw something broad and silvery moving low down behind the trees, and +knew the moon had risen. + +With this to help me, I passed rapidly over what remained to me of my +journey, and sometimes walking, sometimes running, impatiently drew near +to the stockade. Yet, as I began to thread the grove that lies before +it, I was not so thoughtless but that I slacked my pace and went a +trifle warily. It would have been a poor end of my adventures to get +shot down by my own party in mistake. + +The moon was climbing higher and higher, its light began to fall here +and there in masses through the more open districts of the wood, and +right in front of me a glow of a different colour appeared among +the trees. It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little +darkened--as it were, the embers of a bonfire smouldering. + +For the life of me I could not think what it might be. + +At last I came right down upon the borders of the clearing. The western +end was already steeped in moonshine; the rest, and the block house +itself, still lay in a black shadow chequered with long silvery streaks +of light. On the other side of the house an immense fire had burned +itself into clear embers and shed a steady, red reverberation, +contrasted strongly with the mellow paleness of the moon. There was not +a soul stirring nor a sound beside the noises of the breeze. + +I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and perhaps a little terror +also. It had not been our way to build great fires; we were, indeed, +by the captain’s orders, somewhat niggardly of firewood, and I began to +fear that something had gone wrong while I was absent. + +I stole round by the eastern end, keeping close in shadow, and at a +convenient place, where the darkness was thickest, crossed the palisade. + +To make assurance surer, I got upon my hands and knees and crawled, +without a sound, towards the corner of the house. As I drew nearer, my +heart was suddenly and greatly lightened. It is not a pleasant noise in +itself, and I have often complained of it at other times, but just +then it was like music to hear my friends snoring together so loud and +peaceful in their sleep. The sea-cry of the watch, that beautiful “All’s +well,” never fell more reassuringly on my ear. + +In the meantime, there was no doubt of one thing; they kept an infamous +bad watch. If it had been Silver and his lads that were now creeping +in on them, not a soul would have seen daybreak. That was what it +was, thought I, to have the captain wounded; and again I blamed myself +sharply for leaving them in that danger with so few to mount guard. + +By this time I had got to the door and stood up. All was dark within, +so that I could distinguish nothing by the eye. As for sounds, there +was the steady drone of the snorers and a small occasional noise, a +flickering or pecking that I could in no way account for. + +With my arms before me I walked steadily in. I should lie down in my own +place (I thought with a silent chuckle) and enjoy their faces when they +found me in the morning. + +My foot struck something yielding--it was a sleeper’s leg; and he turned +and groaned, but without awaking. + +And then, all of a sudden, a shrill voice broke forth out of the +darkness: + +“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! +Pieces of eight!” and so forth, without pause or change, like the +clacking of a tiny mill. + +Silver’s green parrot, Captain Flint! It was she whom I had heard +pecking at a piece of bark; it was she, keeping better watch than any +human being, who thus announced my arrival with her wearisome refrain. + +I had no time left me to recover. At the sharp, clipping tone of the +parrot, the sleepers awoke and sprang up; and with a mighty oath, the +voice of Silver cried, “Who goes?” + +I turned to run, struck violently against one person, recoiled, and ran +full into the arms of a second, who for his part closed upon and held me +tight. + +“Bring a torch, Dick,” said Silver when my capture was thus assured. + +And one of the men left the log-house and presently returned with a +lighted brand. + + + + + + +PART SIX--Captain Silver + + + + +28 + +In the Enemy’s Camp + +THE red glare of the torch, lighting up the interior of the block house, +showed me the worst of my apprehensions realized. The pirates were in +possession of the house and stores: there was the cask of cognac, +there were the pork and bread, as before, and what tenfold increased +my horror, not a sign of any prisoner. I could only judge that all had +perished, and my heart smote me sorely that I had not been there to +perish with them. + +There were six of the buccaneers, all told; not another man was left +alive. Five of them were on their feet, flushed and swollen, suddenly +called out of the first sleep of drunkenness. The sixth had only risen +upon his elbow; he was deadly pale, and the blood-stained bandage round +his head told that he had recently been wounded, and still more recently +dressed. I remembered the man who had been shot and had run back among +the woods in the great attack, and doubted not that this was he. + +The parrot sat, preening her plumage, on Long John’s shoulder. He +himself, I thought, looked somewhat paler and more stern than I was used +to. He still wore the fine broadcloth suit in which he had fulfilled his +mission, but it was bitterly the worse for wear, daubed with clay and +torn with the sharp briers of the wood. + +“So,” said he, “here’s Jim Hawkins, shiver my timbers! Dropped in, like, +eh? Well, come, I take that friendly.” + +And thereupon he sat down across the brandy cask and began to fill a +pipe. + +“Give me a loan of the link, Dick,” said he; and then, when he had a +good light, “That’ll do, lad,” he added; “stick the glim in the wood +heap; and you, gentlemen, bring yourselves to! You needn’t stand up +for Mr. Hawkins; HE’LL excuse you, you may lay to that. And so, +Jim”--stopping the tobacco--“here you were, and quite a pleasant +surprise for poor old John. I see you were smart when first I set my +eyes on you, but this here gets away from me clean, it do.” + +To all this, as may be well supposed, I made no answer. They had set me +with my back against the wall, and I stood there, looking Silver in the +face, pluckily enough, I hope, to all outward appearance, but with black +despair in my heart. + +Silver took a whiff or two of his pipe with great composure and then ran +on again. + +“Now, you see, Jim, so be as you ARE here,” says he, “I’ll give you a +piece of my mind. I’ve always liked you, I have, for a lad of spirit, +and the picter of my own self when I was young and handsome. I always +wanted you to jine and take your share, and die a gentleman, and now, my +cock, you’ve got to. Cap’n Smollett’s a fine seaman, as I’ll own up to +any day, but stiff on discipline. ‘Dooty is dooty,’ says he, and right +he is. Just you keep clear of the cap’n. The doctor himself is gone dead +again you--‘ungrateful scamp’ was what he said; and the short and the +long of the whole story is about here: you can’t go back to your own +lot, for they won’t have you; and without you start a third ship’s +company all by yourself, which might be lonely, you’ll have to jine with +Cap’n Silver.” + +So far so good. My friends, then, were still alive, and though I partly +believed the truth of Silver’s statement, that the cabin party were +incensed at me for my desertion, I was more relieved than distressed by +what I heard. + +“I don’t say nothing as to your being in our hands,” continued Silver, +“though there you are, and you may lay to it. I’m all for argyment; I +never seen good come out o’ threatening. If you like the service, well, +you’ll jine; and if you don’t, Jim, why, you’re free to answer no--free +and welcome, shipmate; and if fairer can be said by mortal seaman, +shiver my sides!” + +“Am I to answer, then?” I asked with a very tremulous voice. Through all +this sneering talk, I was made to feel the threat of death that overhung +me, and my cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my breast. + +“Lad,” said Silver, “no one’s a-pressing of you. Take your bearings. +None of us won’t hurry you, mate; time goes so pleasant in your company, +you see.” + +“Well,” says I, growing a bit bolder, “if I’m to choose, I declare I +have a right to know what’s what, and why you’re here, and where my +friends are.” + +“Wot’s wot?” repeated one of the buccaneers in a deep growl. “Ah, he’d +be a lucky one as knowed that!” + +“You’ll perhaps batten down your hatches till you’re spoke to, my +friend,” cried Silver truculently to this speaker. And then, in +his first gracious tones, he replied to me, “Yesterday morning, Mr. +Hawkins,” said he, “in the dog-watch, down came Doctor Livesey with a +flag of truce. Says he, ‘Cap’n Silver, you’re sold out. Ship’s gone.’ +Well, maybe we’d been taking a glass, and a song to help it round. I +won’t say no. Leastways, none of us had looked out. We looked out, and +by thunder, the old ship was gone! I never seen a pack o’ fools look +fishier; and you may lay to that, if I tells you that looked the +fishiest. ‘Well,’ says the doctor, ‘let’s bargain.’ We bargained, him +and I, and here we are: stores, brandy, block house, the firewood you +was thoughtful enough to cut, and in a manner of speaking, the whole +blessed boat, from cross-trees to kelson. As for them, they’ve tramped; +I don’t know where’s they are.” + +He drew again quietly at his pipe. + +“And lest you should take it into that head of yours,” he went on, “that +you was included in the treaty, here’s the last word that was said: ‘How +many are you,’ says I, ‘to leave?’ ‘Four,’ says he; ‘four, and one of us +wounded. As for that boy, I don’t know where he is, confound him,’ says +he, ‘nor I don’t much care. We’re about sick of him.’ These was his +words. + +“Is that all?” I asked. + +“Well, it’s all that you’re to hear, my son,” returned Silver. + +“And now I am to choose?” + +“And now you are to choose, and you may lay to that,” said Silver. + +“Well,” said I, “I am not such a fool but I know pretty well what I have +to look for. Let the worst come to the worst, it’s little I care. I’ve +seen too many die since I fell in with you. But there’s a thing or two +I have to tell you,” I said, and by this time I was quite excited; “and +the first is this: here you are, in a bad way--ship lost, treasure lost, +men lost, your whole business gone to wreck; and if you want to know who +did it--it was I! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted land, +and I heard you, John, and you, Dick Johnson, and Hands, who is now at +the bottom of the sea, and told every word you said before the hour was +out. And as for the schooner, it was I who cut her cable, and it was I +that killed the men you had aboard of her, and it was I who brought her +where you’ll never see her more, not one of you. The laugh’s on my side; +I’ve had the top of this business from the first; I no more fear you +than I fear a fly. Kill me, if you please, or spare me. But one thing +I’ll say, and no more; if you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when +you fellows are in court for piracy, I’ll save you all I can. It is for +you to choose. Kill another and do yourselves no good, or spare me and +keep a witness to save you from the gallows.” + +I stopped, for, I tell you, I was out of breath, and to my wonder, not +a man of them moved, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And +while they were still staring, I broke out again, “And now, Mr. Silver,” + I said, “I believe you’re the best man here, and if things go to the +worst, I’ll take it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took +it.” + +“I’ll bear it in mind,” said Silver with an accent so curious that I +could not, for the life of me, decide whether he were laughing at my +request or had been favourably affected by my courage. + +“I’ll put one to that,” cried the old mahogany-faced seaman--Morgan +by name--whom I had seen in Long John’s public-house upon the quays of +Bristol. “It was him that knowed Black Dog.” + +“Well, and see here,” added the sea-cook. “I’ll put another again to +that, by thunder! For it was this same boy that faked the chart from +Billy Bones. First and last, we’ve split upon Jim Hawkins!” + +“Then here goes!” said Morgan with an oath. + +And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been twenty. + +“Avast, there!” cried Silver. “Who are you, Tom Morgan? Maybe you +thought you was cap’n here, perhaps. By the powers, but I’ll teach you +better! Cross me, and you’ll go where many a good man’s gone before you, +first and last, these thirty year back--some to the yard-arm, shiver +my timbers, and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There’s +never a man looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a’terwards, +Tom Morgan, you may lay to that.” + +Morgan paused, but a hoarse murmur rose from the others. + +“Tom’s right,” said one. + +“I stood hazing long enough from one,” added another. “I’ll be hanged if +I’ll be hazed by you, John Silver.” + +“Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with ME?” roared Silver, +bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still +glowing in his right hand. “Put a name on what you’re at; you ain’t +dumb, I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I lived this many +years, and a son of a rum puncheon cock his hat athwart my hawse at the +latter end of it? You know the way; you’re all gentlemen o’ fortune, by +your account. Well, I’m ready. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I’ll +see the colour of his inside, crutch and all, before that pipe’s empty.” + +Not a man stirred; not a man answered. + +“That’s your sort, is it?” he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. +“Well, you’re a gay lot to look at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you +ain’t. P’r’aps you can understand King George’s English. I’m cap’n here +by ’lection. I’m cap’n here because I’m the best man by a long sea-mile. +You won’t fight, as gentlemen o’ fortune should; then, by thunder, +you’ll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen +a better boy than that. He’s more a man than any pair of rats of you in +this here house, and what I say is this: let me see him that’ll lay a +hand on him--that’s what I say, and you may lay to it.” + +There was a long pause after this. I stood straight up against the wall, +my heart still going like a sledge-hammer, but with a ray of hope +now shining in my bosom. Silver leant back against the wall, his arms +crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth, as calm as though he had +been in church; yet his eye kept wandering furtively, and he kept the +tail of it on his unruly followers. They, on their part, drew gradually +together towards the far end of the block house, and the low hiss of +their whispering sounded in my ear continuously, like a stream. One +after another, they would look up, and the red light of the torch would +fall for a second on their nervous faces; but it was not towards me, it +was towards Silver that they turned their eyes. + +“You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver, spitting far into the +air. “Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to.” + +“Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men; “you’re pretty free with +some of the rules; maybe you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This +crew’s dissatisfied; this crew don’t vally bullying a marlin-spike; this +crew has its rights like other crews, I’ll make so free as that; and by +your own rules, I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, +acknowledging you for to be captaing at this present; but I claim my +right, and steps outside for a council.” + +And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long, ill-looking, +yellow-eyed man of five and thirty, stepped coolly towards the door and +disappeared out of the house. One after another the rest followed his +example, each making a salute as he passed, each adding some apology. +“According to rules,” said one. “Forecastle council,” said Morgan. And +so with one remark or another all marched out and left Silver and me +alone with the torch. + +The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe. + +“Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,” he said in a steady whisper that was +no more than audible, “you’re within half a plank of death, and what’s +a long sight worse, of torture. They’re going to throw me off. But, you +mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. I didn’t mean to; no, not +till you spoke up. I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and +be hanged into the bargain. But I see you was the right sort. I says to +myself, you stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins’ll stand by you. You’re +his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he’s yours! Back to +back, says I. You save your witness, and he’ll save your neck!” + +I began dimly to understand. + +“You mean all’s lost?” I asked. + +“Aye, by gum, I do!” he answered. “Ship gone, neck gone--that’s the +size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no +schooner--well, I’m tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their +council, mark me, they’re outright fools and cowards. I’ll save your +life--if so be as I can--from them. But, see here, Jim--tit for tat--you +save Long John from swinging.” + +I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking--he, the +old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout. + +“What I can do, that I’ll do,” I said. + +“It’s a bargain!” cried Long John. “You speak up plucky, and by thunder, +I’ve a chance!” + +He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped among the firewood, and +took a fresh light to his pipe. + +“Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning. “I’ve a head on my shoulders, +I have. I’m on squire’s side now. I know you’ve got that ship safe +somewheres. How you done it, I don’t know, but safe it is. I guess Hands +and O’Brien turned soft. I never much believed in neither of THEM. Now +you mark me. I ask no questions, nor I won’t let others. I know when +a game’s up, I do; and I know a lad that’s staunch. Ah, you that’s +young--you and me might have done a power of good together!” + +He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin. + +“Will you taste, messmate?” he asked; and when I had refused: “Well, +I’ll take a dram myself, Jim,” said he. “I need a caulker, for there’s +trouble on hand. And talking o’ trouble, why did that doctor give me the +chart, Jim?” + +My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of +further questions. + +“Ah, well, he did, though,” said he. “And there’s something under that, +no doubt--something, surely, under that, Jim--bad or good.” + +And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking his great fair head +like a man who looks forward to the worst. + + + + +29 + +The Black Spot Again + +THE council of buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them +re-entered the house, and with a repetition of the same salute, which +had in my eyes an ironical air, begged for a moment’s loan of the torch. +Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us +together in the dark. + +“There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver, who had by this time +adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone. + +I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out. The embers of the +great fire had so far burned themselves out and now glowed so low and +duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About +half-way down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group; +one held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw +the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in +the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though +watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he +had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how +anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling +figure rose once more to his feet and the whole party began to move +together towards the house. + +“Here they come,” said I; and I returned to my former position, for it +seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them. + +“Well, let ’em come, lad--let ’em come,” said Silver cheerily. “I’ve +still a shot in my locker.” + +The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled together just +inside, pushed one of their number forward. In any other circumstances +it would have been comical to see his slow advance, hesitating as he set +down each foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him. + +“Step up, lad,” cried Silver. “I won’t eat you. Hand it over, lubber. I +know the rules, I do; I won’t hurt a depytation.” + +Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having +passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly +back again to his companions. + +The sea-cook looked at what had been given him. + +“The black spot! I thought so,” he observed. “Where might you have got +the paper? Why, hillo! Look here, now; this ain’t lucky! You’ve gone and +cut this out of a Bible. What fool’s cut a Bible?” + +“Ah, there!” said Morgan. “There! Wot did I say? No good’ll come o’ +that, I said.” + +“Well, you’ve about fixed it now, among you,” continued Silver. “You’ll +all swing now, I reckon. What soft-headed lubber had a Bible?” + +“It was Dick,” said one. + +“Dick, was it? Then Dick can get to prayers,” said Silver. “He’s seen +his slice of luck, has Dick, and you may lay to that.” + +But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in. + +“Belay that talk, John Silver,” he said. “This crew has tipped you the +black spot in full council, as in dooty bound; just you turn it over, as +in dooty bound, and see what’s wrote there. Then you can talk.” + +“Thanky, George,” replied the sea-cook. “You always was brisk for +business, and has the rules by heart, George, as I’m pleased to see. +Well, what is it, anyway? Ah! ‘Deposed’--that’s it, is it? Very pretty +wrote, to be sure; like print, I swear. Your hand o’ write, George? Why, +you was gettin’ quite a leadin’ man in this here crew. You’ll be cap’n +next, I shouldn’t wonder. Just oblige me with that torch again, will +you? This pipe don’t draw.” + +“Come, now,” said George, “you don’t fool this crew no more. You’re a +funny man, by your account; but you’re over now, and you’ll maybe step +down off that barrel and help vote.” + +“I thought you said you knowed the rules,” returned Silver +contemptuously. “Leastways, if you don’t, I do; and I wait here--and I’m +still your cap’n, mind--till you outs with your grievances and I reply; +in the meantime, your black spot ain’t worth a biscuit. After that, +we’ll see.” + +“Oh,” replied George, “you don’t be under no kind of apprehension; WE’RE +all square, we are. First, you’ve made a hash of this cruise--you’ll be +a bold man to say no to that. Second, you let the enemy out o’ this here +trap for nothing. Why did they want out? I dunno, but it’s pretty plain +they wanted it. Third, you wouldn’t let us go at them upon the march. +Oh, we see through you, John Silver; you want to play booty, that’s +what’s wrong with you. And then, fourth, there’s this here boy.” + +“Is that all?” asked Silver quietly. + +“Enough, too,” retorted George. “We’ll all swing and sun-dry for your +bungling.” + +“Well now, look here, I’ll answer these four p’ints; one after another +I’ll answer ’em. I made a hash o’ this cruise, did I? Well now, you all +know what I wanted, and you all know if that had been done that we’d +’a been aboard the HISPANIOLA this night as ever was, every man of us +alive, and fit, and full of good plum-duff, and the treasure in the hold +of her, by thunder! Well, who crossed me? Who forced my hand, as was the +lawful cap’n? Who tipped me the black spot the day we landed and began +this dance? Ah, it’s a fine dance--I’m with you there--and looks mighty +like a hornpipe in a rope’s end at Execution Dock by London town, it +does. But who done it? Why, it was Anderson, and Hands, and you, George +Merry! And you’re the last above board of that same meddling crew; +and you have the Davy Jones’s insolence to up and stand for cap’n over +me--you, that sank the lot of us! By the powers! But this tops the +stiffest yarn to nothing.” + +Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George and his late +comrades that these words had not been said in vain. + +“That’s for number one,” cried the accused, wiping the sweat from his +brow, for he had been talking with a vehemence that shook the house. +“Why, I give you my word, I’m sick to speak to you. You’ve neither sense +nor memory, and I leave it to fancy where your mothers was that let you +come to sea. Sea! Gentlemen o’ fortune! I reckon tailors is your trade.” + +“Go on, John,” said Morgan. “Speak up to the others.” + +“Ah, the others!” returned John. “They’re a nice lot, ain’t they? You +say this cruise is bungled. Ah! By gum, if you could understand how bad +it’s bungled, you would see! We’re that near the gibbet that my neck’s +stiff with thinking on it. You’ve seen ’em, maybe, hanged in chains, +birds about ’em, seamen p’inting ’em out as they go down with the tide. +‘Who’s that?’ says one. ‘That! Why, that’s John Silver. I knowed him +well,’ says another. And you can hear the chains a-jangle as you go +about and reach for the other buoy. Now, that’s about where we are, +every mother’s son of us, thanks to him, and Hands, and Anderson, and +other ruination fools of you. And if you want to know about number four, +and that boy, why, shiver my timbers, isn’t he a hostage? Are we a-going +to waste a hostage? No, not us; he might be our last chance, and I +shouldn’t wonder. Kill that boy? Not me, mates! And number three? Ah, +well, there’s a deal to say to number three. Maybe you don’t count it +nothing to have a real college doctor to see you every day--you, John, +with your head broke--or you, George Merry, that had the ague shakes +upon you not six hours agone, and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel +to this same moment on the clock? And maybe, perhaps, you didn’t know +there was a consort coming either? But there is, and not so long till +then; and we’ll see who’ll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to +that. And as for number two, and why I made a bargain--well, you came +crawling on your knees to me to make it--on your knees you came, you was +that downhearted--and you’d have starved too if I hadn’t--but that’s a +trifle! You look there--that’s why!” + +And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly +recognized--none other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three +red crosses, that I had found in the oilcloth at the bottom of the +captain’s chest. Why the doctor had given it to him was more than I +could fancy. + +But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of the chart was +incredible to the surviving mutineers. They leaped upon it like cats +upon a mouse. It went from hand to hand, one tearing it from another; +and by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter with which they +accompanied their examination, you would have thought, not only they +were fingering the very gold, but were at sea with it, besides, in +safety. + +“Yes,” said one, “that’s Flint, sure enough. J. F., and a score below, +with a clove hitch to it; so he done ever.” + +“Mighty pretty,” said George. “But how are we to get away with it, and +us no ship.” + +Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against +the wall: “Now I give you warning, George,” he cried. “One more word +of your sauce, and I’ll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I +know? You had ought to tell me that--you and the rest, that lost me my +schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you can’t; you +hain’t got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and +shall, George Merry, you may lay to that.” + +“That’s fair enow,” said the old man Morgan. + +“Fair! I reckon so,” said the sea-cook. “You lost the ship; I found the +treasure. Who’s the better man at that? And now I resign, by thunder! +Elect whom you please to be your cap’n now; I’m done with it.” + +“Silver!” they cried. “Barbecue forever! Barbecue for cap’n!” + +“So that’s the toon, is it?” cried the cook. “George, I reckon you’ll +have to wait another turn, friend; and lucky for you as I’m not a +revengeful man. But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this +black spot? ’Tain’t much good now, is it? Dick’s crossed his luck and +spoiled his Bible, and that’s about all.” + +“It’ll do to kiss the book on still, won’t it?” growled Dick, who was +evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself. + +“A Bible with a bit cut out!” returned Silver derisively. “Not it. It +don’t bind no more’n a ballad-book.” + +“Don’t it, though?” cried Dick with a sort of joy. “Well, I reckon +that’s worth having too.” + +“Here, Jim--here’s a cur’osity for you,” said Silver, and he tossed me +the paper. + +It was around about the size of a crown piece. One side was blank, +for it had been the last leaf; the other contained a verse or two of +Revelation--these words among the rest, which struck sharply home upon +my mind: “Without are dogs and murderers.” The printed side had been +blackened with wood ash, which already began to come off and soil my +fingers; on the blank side had been written with the same material the +one word “Depposed.” I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but +not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such as a +man might make with his thumb-nail. + +That was the end of the night’s business. Soon after, with a drink all +round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver’s vengeance was +to put George Merry up for sentinel and threaten him with death if he +should prove unfaithful. + +It was long ere I could close an eye, and heaven knows I had matter +enough for thought in the man whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own +most perilous position, and above all, in the remarkable game that I saw +Silver now engaged upon--keeping the mutineers together with one hand +and grasping with the other after every means, possible and impossible, +to make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself slept +peacefully and snored aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he +was, to think on the dark perils that environed and the shameful gibbet +that awaited him. + + + + +30 + +On Parole + +I WAS wakened--indeed, we were all wakened, for I could see even the +sentinel shake himself together from where he had fallen against the +door-post--by a clear, hearty voice hailing us from the margin of the +wood: + +“Block house, ahoy!” it cried. “Here’s the doctor.” + +And the doctor it was. Although I was glad to hear the sound, yet my +gladness was not without admixture. I remembered with confusion my +insubordinate and stealthy conduct, and when I saw where it had brought +me--among what companions and surrounded by what dangers--I felt ashamed +to look him in the face. + +He must have risen in the dark, for the day had hardly come; and when I +ran to a loophole and looked out, I saw him standing, like Silver once +before, up to the mid-leg in creeping vapour. + +“You, doctor! Top o’ the morning to you, sir!” cried Silver, broad awake +and beaming with good nature in a moment. “Bright and early, to be sure; +and it’s the early bird, as the saying goes, that gets the rations. +George, shake up your timbers, son, and help Dr. Livesey over the ship’s +side. All a-doin’ well, your patients was--all well and merry.” + +So he pattered on, standing on the hilltop with his crutch under his +elbow and one hand upon the side of the log-house--quite the old John in +voice, manner, and expression. + +“We’ve quite a surprise for you too, sir,” he continued. “We’ve a little +stranger here--he! he! A noo boarder and lodger, sir, and looking fit +and taut as a fiddle; slep’ like a supercargo, he did, right alongside +of John--stem to stem we was, all night.” + +Dr. Livesey was by this time across the stockade and pretty near the +cook, and I could hear the alteration in his voice as he said, “Not +Jim?” + +“The very same Jim as ever was,” says Silver. + +The doctor stopped outright, although he did not speak, and it was some +seconds before he seemed able to move on. + +“Well, well,” he said at last, “duty first and pleasure afterwards, as +you might have said yourself, Silver. Let us overhaul these patients of +yours.” + +A moment afterwards he had entered the block house and with one grim +nod to me proceeded with his work among the sick. He seemed under no +apprehension, though he must have known that his life, among these +treacherous demons, depended on a hair; and he rattled on to his +patients as if he were paying an ordinary professional visit in a quiet +English family. His manner, I suppose, reacted on the men, for they +behaved to him as if nothing had occurred, as if he were still ship’s +doctor and they still faithful hands before the mast. + +“You’re doing well, my friend,” he said to the fellow with the bandaged +head, “and if ever any person had a close shave, it was you; your head +must be as hard as iron. Well, George, how goes it? You’re a pretty +colour, certainly; why, your liver, man, is upside down. Did you take +that medicine? Did he take that medicine, men?” + +“Aye, aye, sir, he took it, sure enough,” returned Morgan. + +“Because, you see, since I am mutineers’ doctor, or prison doctor as I +prefer to call it,” says Doctor Livesey in his pleasantest way, “I make +it a point of honour not to lose a man for King George (God bless him!) +and the gallows.” + +The rogues looked at each other but swallowed the home-thrust in +silence. + +“Dick don’t feel well, sir,” said one. + +“Don’t he?” replied the doctor. “Well, step up here, Dick, and let me +see your tongue. No, I should be surprised if he did! The man’s tongue +is fit to frighten the French. Another fever.” + +“Ah, there,” said Morgan, “that comed of sp’iling Bibles.” + +“That comes--as you call it--of being arrant asses,” retorted the +doctor, “and not having sense enough to know honest air from poison, +and the dry land from a vile, pestiferous slough. I think it most +probable--though of course it’s only an opinion--that you’ll all have +the deuce to pay before you get that malaria out of your systems. Camp +in a bog, would you? Silver, I’m surprised at you. You’re less of a fool +than many, take you all round; but you don’t appear to me to have the +rudiments of a notion of the rules of health. + +“Well,” he added after he had dosed them round and they had taken +his prescriptions, with really laughable humility, more like charity +schoolchildren than blood-guilty mutineers and pirates--“well, that’s +done for today. And now I should wish to have a talk with that boy, +please.” + +And he nodded his head in my direction carelessly. + +George Merry was at the door, spitting and spluttering over some +bad-tasted medicine; but at the first word of the doctor’s proposal he +swung round with a deep flush and cried “No!” and swore. + +Silver struck the barrel with his open hand. + +“Si-lence!” he roared and looked about him positively like a lion. +“Doctor,” he went on in his usual tones, “I was a-thinking of that, +knowing as how you had a fancy for the boy. We’re all humbly grateful +for your kindness, and as you see, puts faith in you and takes the drugs +down like that much grog. And I take it I’ve found a way as’ll suit all. +Hawkins, will you give me your word of honour as a young gentleman--for +a young gentleman you are, although poor born--your word of honour not +to slip your cable?” + +I readily gave the pledge required. + +“Then, doctor,” said Silver, “you just step outside o’ that stockade, +and once you’re there I’ll bring the boy down on the inside, and I +reckon you can yarn through the spars. Good day to you, sir, and all our +dooties to the squire and Cap’n Smollett.” + +The explosion of disapproval, which nothing but Silver’s black looks had +restrained, broke out immediately the doctor had left the house. Silver +was roundly accused of playing double--of trying to make a separate +peace for himself, of sacrificing the interests of his accomplices and +victims, and, in one word, of the identical, exact thing that he was +doing. It seemed to me so obvious, in this case, that I could not +imagine how he was to turn their anger. But he was twice the man +the rest were, and his last night’s victory had given him a huge +preponderance on their minds. He called them all the fools and dolts +you can imagine, said it was necessary I should talk to the doctor, +fluttered the chart in their faces, asked them if they could afford to +break the treaty the very day they were bound a-treasure-hunting. + +“No, by thunder!” he cried. “It’s us must break the treaty when the time +comes; and till then I’ll gammon that doctor, if I have to ile his boots +with brandy.” + +And then he bade them get the fire lit, and stalked out upon his crutch, +with his hand on my shoulder, leaving them in a disarray, and silenced +by his volubility rather than convinced. + +“Slow, lad, slow,” he said. “They might round upon us in a twinkle of an +eye if we was seen to hurry.” + +Very deliberately, then, did we advance across the sand to where the +doctor awaited us on the other side of the stockade, and as soon as we +were within easy speaking distance Silver stopped. + +“You’ll make a note of this here also, doctor,” says he, “and the boy’ll +tell you how I saved his life, and were deposed for it too, and you +may lay to that. Doctor, when a man’s steering as near the wind as +me--playing chuck-farthing with the last breath in his body, like--you +wouldn’t think it too much, mayhap, to give him one good word? You’ll +please bear in mind it’s not my life only now--it’s that boy’s into the +bargain; and you’ll speak me fair, doctor, and give me a bit o’ hope to +go on, for the sake of mercy.” + +Silver was a changed man once he was out there and had his back to his +friends and the block house; his cheeks seemed to have fallen in, his +voice trembled; never was a soul more dead in earnest. + +“Why, John, you’re not afraid?” asked Dr. Livesey. + +“Doctor, I’m no coward; no, not I--not SO much!” and he snapped his +fingers. “If I was I wouldn’t say it. But I’ll own up fairly, I’ve the +shakes upon me for the gallows. You’re a good man and a true; I never +seen a better man! And you’ll not forget what I done good, not any more +than you’ll forget the bad, I know. And I step aside--see here--and +leave you and Jim alone. And you’ll put that down for me too, for it’s a +long stretch, is that!” + +So saying, he stepped back a little way, till he was out of earshot, and +there sat down upon a tree-stump and began to whistle, spinning round +now and again upon his seat so as to command a sight, sometimes of me +and the doctor and sometimes of his unruly ruffians as they went to and +fro in the sand between the fire--which they were busy rekindling--and +the house, from which they brought forth pork and bread to make the +breakfast. + +“So, Jim,” said the doctor sadly, “here you are. As you have brewed, so +shall you drink, my boy. Heaven knows, I cannot find it in my heart to +blame you, but this much I will say, be it kind or unkind: when Captain +Smollett was well, you dared not have gone off; and when he was ill and +couldn’t help it, by George, it was downright cowardly!” + +I will own that I here began to weep. “Doctor,” I said, “you might spare +me. I have blamed myself enough; my life’s forfeit anyway, and I should +have been dead by now if Silver hadn’t stood for me; and doctor, +believe this, I can die--and I dare say I deserve it--but what I fear is +torture. If they come to torture me--” + +“Jim,” the doctor interrupted, and his voice was quite changed, “Jim, I +can’t have this. Whip over, and we’ll run for it.” + +“Doctor,” said I, “I passed my word.” + +“I know, I know,” he cried. “We can’t help that, Jim, now. I’ll take it +on my shoulders, holus bolus, blame and shame, my boy; but stay here, +I cannot let you. Jump! One jump, and you’re out, and we’ll run for it +like antelopes.” + +“No,” I replied; “you know right well you wouldn’t do the thing +yourself--neither you nor squire nor captain; and no more will I. Silver +trusted me; I passed my word, and back I go. But, doctor, you did not +let me finish. If they come to torture me, I might let slip a word of +where the ship is, for I got the ship, part by luck and part by risking, +and she lies in North Inlet, on the southern beach, and just below high +water. At half tide she must be high and dry.” + +“The ship!” exclaimed the doctor. + +Rapidly I described to him my adventures, and he heard me out in +silence. + +“There is a kind of fate in this,” he observed when I had done. “Every +step, it’s you that saves our lives; and do you suppose by any chance +that we are going to let you lose yours? That would be a poor return, my +boy. You found out the plot; you found Ben Gunn--the best deed that +ever you did, or will do, though you live to ninety. Oh, by Jupiter, and +talking of Ben Gunn! Why, this is the mischief in person. Silver!” he +cried. “Silver! I’ll give you a piece of advice,” he continued as +the cook drew near again; “don’t you be in any great hurry after that +treasure.” + +“Why, sir, I do my possible, which that ain’t,” said Silver. “I can +only, asking your pardon, save my life and the boy’s by seeking for that +treasure; and you may lay to that.” + +“Well, Silver,” replied the doctor, “if that is so, I’ll go one step +further: look out for squalls when you find it.” + +“Sir,” said Silver, “as between man and man, that’s too much and too +little. What you’re after, why you left the block house, why you given +me that there chart, I don’t know, now, do I? And yet I done your +bidding with my eyes shut and never a word of hope! But no, this here’s +too much. If you won’t tell me what you mean plain out, just say so and +I’ll leave the helm.” + +“No,” said the doctor musingly; “I’ve no right to say more; it’s not my +secret, you see, Silver, or, I give you my word, I’d tell it you. But +I’ll go as far with you as I dare go, and a step beyond, for I’ll have +my wig sorted by the captain or I’m mistaken! And first, I’ll give you a +bit of hope; Silver, if we both get alive out of this wolf-trap, I’ll do +my best to save you, short of perjury.” + +Silver’s face was radiant. “You couldn’t say more, I’m sure, sir, not if +you was my mother,” he cried. + +“Well, that’s my first concession,” added the doctor. “My second is a +piece of advice: keep the boy close beside you, and when you need help, +halloo. I’m off to seek it for you, and that itself will show you if I +speak at random. Good-bye, Jim.” + +And Dr. Livesey shook hands with me through the stockade, nodded to +Silver, and set off at a brisk pace into the wood. + + + + +31 + +The Treasure-hunt--Flint’s Pointer + +“JIM,” said Silver when we were alone, “if I saved your life, you saved +mine; and I’ll not forget it. I seen the doctor waving you to run for +it--with the tail of my eye, I did; and I seen you say no, as plain as +hearing. Jim, that’s one to you. This is the first glint of hope I had +since the attack failed, and I owe it you. And now, Jim, we’re to go in +for this here treasure-hunting, with sealed orders too, and I don’t like +it; and you and me must stick close, back to back like, and we’ll save +our necks in spite o’ fate and fortune.” + +Just then a man hailed us from the fire that breakfast was ready, and +we were soon seated here and there about the sand over biscuit and fried +junk. They had lit a fire fit to roast an ox, and it was now grown so +hot that they could only approach it from the windward, and even there +not without precaution. In the same wasteful spirit, they had cooked, +I suppose, three times more than we could eat; and one of them, with an +empty laugh, threw what was left into the fire, which blazed and roared +again over this unusual fuel. I never in my life saw men so careless of +the morrow; hand to mouth is the only word that can describe their way +of doing; and what with wasted food and sleeping sentries, though they +were bold enough for a brush and be done with it, I could see their +entire unfitness for anything like a prolonged campaign. + +Even Silver, eating away, with Captain Flint upon his shoulder, had not +a word of blame for their recklessness. And this the more surprised me, +for I thought he had never shown himself so cunning as he did then. + +“Aye, mates,” said he, “it’s lucky you have Barbecue to think for you +with this here head. I got what I wanted, I did. Sure enough, they have +the ship. Where they have it, I don’t know yet; but once we hit the +treasure, we’ll have to jump about and find out. And then, mates, us +that has the boats, I reckon, has the upper hand.” + +Thus he kept running on, with his mouth full of the hot bacon; thus he +restored their hope and confidence, and, I more than suspect, repaired +his own at the same time. + +“As for hostage,” he continued, “that’s his last talk, I guess, with +them he loves so dear. I’ve got my piece o’ news, and thanky to him +for that; but it’s over and done. I’ll take him in a line when we go +treasure-hunting, for we’ll keep him like so much gold, in case of +accidents, you mark, and in the meantime. Once we got the ship and +treasure both and off to sea like jolly companions, why then we’ll talk +Mr. Hawkins over, we will, and we’ll give him his share, to be sure, for +all his kindness.” + +It was no wonder the men were in a good humour now. For my part, I +was horribly cast down. Should the scheme he had now sketched prove +feasible, Silver, already doubly a traitor, would not hesitate to adopt +it. He had still a foot in either camp, and there was no doubt he +would prefer wealth and freedom with the pirates to a bare escape from +hanging, which was the best he had to hope on our side. + +Nay, and even if things so fell out that he was forced to keep his faith +with Dr. Livesey, even then what danger lay before us! What a moment +that would be when the suspicions of his followers turned to certainty +and he and I should have to fight for dear life--he a cripple and I a +boy--against five strong and active seamen! + +Add to this double apprehension the mystery that still hung over the +behaviour of my friends, their unexplained desertion of the stockade, +their inexplicable cession of the chart, or harder still to understand, +the doctor’s last warning to Silver, “Look out for squalls when you +find it,” and you will readily believe how little taste I found in my +breakfast and with how uneasy a heart I set forth behind my captors on +the quest for treasure. + +We made a curious figure, had anyone been there to see us--all in soiled +sailor clothes and all but me armed to the teeth. Silver had two guns +slung about him--one before and one behind--besides the great cutlass +at his waist and a pistol in each pocket of his square-tailed coat. +To complete his strange appearance, Captain Flint sat perched upon his +shoulder and gabbling odds and ends of purposeless sea-talk. I had a +line about my waist and followed obediently after the sea-cook, who +held the loose end of the rope, now in his free hand, now between his +powerful teeth. For all the world, I was led like a dancing bear. + +The other men were variously burthened, some carrying picks and +shovels--for that had been the very first necessary they brought ashore +from the HISPANIOLA--others laden with pork, bread, and brandy for the +midday meal. All the stores, I observed, came from our stock, and I +could see the truth of Silver’s words the night before. Had he not +struck a bargain with the doctor, he and his mutineers, deserted by the +ship, must have been driven to subsist on clear water and the proceeds +of their hunting. Water would have been little to their taste; a sailor +is not usually a good shot; and besides all that, when they were so +short of eatables, it was not likely they would be very flush of powder. + +Well, thus equipped, we all set out--even the fellow with the broken +head, who should certainly have kept in shadow--and straggled, one after +another, to the beach, where the two gigs awaited us. Even these bore +trace of the drunken folly of the pirates, one in a broken thwart, and +both in their muddy and unbailed condition. Both were to be carried +along with us for the sake of safety; and so, with our numbers divided +between them, we set forth upon the bosom of the anchorage. + +As we pulled over, there was some discussion on the chart. The red cross +was, of course, far too large to be a guide; and the terms of the note +on the back, as you will hear, admitted of some ambiguity. They ran, the +reader may remember, thus: + + Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to + the N. of N.N.E. + Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. + Ten feet. + +A tall tree was thus the principal mark. Now, right before us the +anchorage was bounded by a plateau from two to three hundred feet high, +adjoining on the north the sloping southern shoulder of the Spy-glass +and rising again towards the south into the rough, cliffy eminence +called the Mizzen-mast Hill. The top of the plateau was dotted thickly +with pine-trees of varying height. Every here and there, one of a +different species rose forty or fifty feet clear above its neighbours, +and which of these was the particular “tall tree” of Captain Flint could +only be decided on the spot, and by the readings of the compass. + +Yet, although that was the case, every man on board the boats had +picked a favourite of his own ere we were half-way over, Long John alone +shrugging his shoulders and bidding them wait till they were there. + +We pulled easily, by Silver’s directions, not to weary the hands +prematurely, and after quite a long passage, landed at the mouth of +the second river--that which runs down a woody cleft of the Spy-glass. +Thence, bending to our left, we began to ascend the slope towards the +plateau. + +At the first outset, heavy, miry ground and a matted, marish vegetation +greatly delayed our progress; but by little and little the hill began +to steepen and become stony under foot, and the wood to change its +character and to grow in a more open order. It was, indeed, a most +pleasant portion of the island that we were now approaching. A +heavy-scented broom and many flowering shrubs had almost taken the place +of grass. Thickets of green nutmeg-trees were dotted here and there with +the red columns and the broad shadow of the pines; and the first mingled +their spice with the aroma of the others. The air, besides, was fresh +and stirring, and this, under the sheer sunbeams, was a wonderful +refreshment to our senses. + +The party spread itself abroad, in a fan shape, shouting and leaping to +and fro. About the centre, and a good way behind the rest, Silver and +I followed--I tethered by my rope, he ploughing, with deep pants, among +the sliding gravel. From time to time, indeed, I had to lend him a hand, +or he must have missed his footing and fallen backward down the hill. + +We had thus proceeded for about half a mile and were approaching the +brow of the plateau when the man upon the farthest left began to cry +aloud, as if in terror. Shout after shout came from him, and the others +began to run in his direction. + +“He can’t ’a found the treasure,” said old Morgan, hurrying past us from +the right, “for that’s clean a-top.” + +Indeed, as we found when we also reached the spot, it was something +very different. At the foot of a pretty big pine and involved in a green +creeper, which had even partly lifted some of the smaller bones, a human +skeleton lay, with a few shreds of clothing, on the ground. I believe a +chill struck for a moment to every heart. + +“He was a seaman,” said George Merry, who, bolder than the rest, had +gone up close and was examining the rags of clothing. “Leastways, this +is good sea-cloth.” + +“Aye, aye,” said Silver; “like enough; you wouldn’t look to find a +bishop here, I reckon. But what sort of a way is that for bones to lie? +’Tain’t in natur’.” + +Indeed, on a second glance, it seemed impossible to fancy that the body +was in a natural position. But for some disarray (the work, perhaps, of +the birds that had fed upon him or of the slow-growing creeper that had +gradually enveloped his remains) the man lay perfectly straight--his +feet pointing in one direction, his hands, raised above his head like a +diver’s, pointing directly in the opposite. + +“I’ve taken a notion into my old numbskull,” observed Silver. “Here’s +the compass; there’s the tip-top p’int o’ Skeleton Island, stickin’ +out like a tooth. Just take a bearing, will you, along the line of them +bones.” + +It was done. The body pointed straight in the direction of the island, +and the compass read duly E.S.E. and by E. + +“I thought so,” cried the cook; “this here is a p’inter. Right up there +is our line for the Pole Star and the jolly dollars. But, by thunder! +If it don’t make me cold inside to think of Flint. This is one of HIS +jokes, and no mistake. Him and these six was alone here; he killed ’em, +every man; and this one he hauled here and laid down by compass, shiver +my timbers! They’re long bones, and the hair’s been yellow. Aye, that +would be Allardyce. You mind Allardyce, Tom Morgan?” + +“Aye, aye,” returned Morgan; “I mind him; he owed me money, he did, and +took my knife ashore with him.” + +“Speaking of knives,” said another, “why don’t we find his’n lying +round? Flint warn’t the man to pick a seaman’s pocket; and the birds, I +guess, would leave it be.” + +“By the powers, and that’s true!” cried Silver. + +“There ain’t a thing left here,” said Merry, still feeling round among +the bones; “not a copper doit nor a baccy box. It don’t look nat’ral to +me.” + +“No, by gum, it don’t,” agreed Silver; “not nat’ral, nor not nice, says +you. Great guns! Messmates, but if Flint was living, this would be a hot +spot for you and me. Six they were, and six are we; and bones is what +they are now.” + +“I saw him dead with these here deadlights,” said Morgan. “Billy took me +in. There he laid, with penny-pieces on his eyes.” + +“Dead--aye, sure enough he’s dead and gone below,” said the fellow with +the bandage; “but if ever sperrit walked, it would be Flint’s. Dear +heart, but he died bad, did Flint!” + +“Aye, that he did,” observed another; “now he raged, and now he hollered +for the rum, and now he sang. ‘Fifteen Men’ were his only song, mates; +and I tell you true, I never rightly liked to hear it since. It was +main hot, and the windy was open, and I hear that old song comin’ out as +clear as clear--and the death-haul on the man already.” + +“Come, come,” said Silver; “stow this talk. He’s dead, and he don’t +walk, that I know; leastways, he won’t walk by day, and you may lay to +that. Care killed a cat. Fetch ahead for the doubloons.” + +We started, certainly; but in spite of the hot sun and the staring +daylight, the pirates no longer ran separate and shouting through the +wood, but kept side by side and spoke with bated breath. The terror of +the dead buccaneer had fallen on their spirits. + + + + +32 + +The Treasure-hunt--The Voice Among the Trees + +PARTLY from the damping influence of this alarm, partly to rest Silver +and the sick folk, the whole party sat down as soon as they had gained +the brow of the ascent. + +The plateau being somewhat tilted towards the west, this spot on which +we had paused commanded a wide prospect on either hand. Before us, +over the tree-tops, we beheld the Cape of the Woods fringed with surf; +behind, we not only looked down upon the anchorage and Skeleton Island, +but saw--clear across the spit and the eastern lowlands--a great field +of open sea upon the east. Sheer above us rose the Spyglass, here dotted +with single pines, there black with precipices. There was no sound but +that of the distant breakers, mounting from all round, and the chirp of +countless insects in the brush. Not a man, not a sail, upon the sea; the +very largeness of the view increased the sense of solitude. + +Silver, as he sat, took certain bearings with his compass. + +“There are three ‘tall trees’” said he, “about in the right line from +Skeleton Island. ‘Spy-glass shoulder,’ I take it, means that lower p’int +there. It’s child’s play to find the stuff now. I’ve half a mind to dine +first.” + +“I don’t feel sharp,” growled Morgan. “Thinkin’ o’ Flint--I think it +were--as done me.” + +“Ah, well, my son, you praise your stars he’s dead,” said Silver. + +“He were an ugly devil,” cried a third pirate with a shudder; “that blue +in the face too!” + +“That was how the rum took him,” added Merry. “Blue! Well, I reckon he +was blue. That’s a true word.” + +Ever since they had found the skeleton and got upon this train of +thought, they had spoken lower and lower, and they had almost got to +whispering by now, so that the sound of their talk hardly interrupted +the silence of the wood. All of a sudden, out of the middle of the trees +in front of us, a thin, high, trembling voice struck up the well-known +air and words: + + “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-- + Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!” + +I never have seen men more dreadfully affected than the pirates. The +colour went from their six faces like enchantment; some leaped to their +feet, some clawed hold of others; Morgan grovelled on the ground. + +“It’s Flint, by ----!” cried Merry. + +The song had stopped as suddenly as it began--broken off, you would have +said, in the middle of a note, as though someone had laid his hand upon +the singer’s mouth. Coming through the clear, sunny atmosphere among the +green tree-tops, I thought it had sounded airily and sweetly; and the +effect on my companions was the stranger. + +“Come,” said Silver, struggling with his ashen lips to get the word out; +“this won’t do. Stand by to go about. This is a rum start, and I can’t +name the voice, but it’s someone skylarking--someone that’s flesh and +blood, and you may lay to that.” + +His courage had come back as he spoke, and some of the colour to his +face along with it. Already the others had begun to lend an ear to this +encouragement and were coming a little to themselves, when the same +voice broke out again--not this time singing, but in a faint distant +hail that echoed yet fainter among the clefts of the Spy-glass. + +“Darby M’Graw,” it wailed--for that is the word that best describes the +sound--“Darby M’Graw! Darby M’Graw!” again and again and again; and then +rising a little higher, and with an oath that I leave out: “Fetch aft +the rum, Darby!” + +The buccaneers remained rooted to the ground, their eyes starting from +their heads. Long after the voice had died away they still stared in +silence, dreadfully, before them. + +“That fixes it!” gasped one. “Let’s go.” + +“They was his last words,” moaned Morgan, “his last words above board.” + +Dick had his Bible out and was praying volubly. He had been well brought +up, had Dick, before he came to sea and fell among bad companions. + +Still Silver was unconquered. I could hear his teeth rattle in his head, +but he had not yet surrendered. + +“Nobody in this here island ever heard of Darby,” he muttered; “not one +but us that’s here.” And then, making a great effort: “Shipmates,” + he cried, “I’m here to get that stuff, and I’ll not be beat by man or +devil. I never was feared of Flint in his life, and, by the powers, I’ll +face him dead. There’s seven hundred thousand pound not a quarter of a +mile from here. When did ever a gentleman o’ fortune show his stern to +that much dollars for a boozy old seaman with a blue mug--and him dead +too?” + +But there was no sign of reawakening courage in his followers, rather, +indeed, of growing terror at the irreverence of his words. + +“Belay there, John!” said Merry. “Don’t you cross a sperrit.” + +And the rest were all too terrified to reply. They would have run away +severally had they dared; but fear kept them together, and kept them +close by John, as if his daring helped them. He, on his part, had pretty +well fought his weakness down. + +“Sperrit? Well, maybe,” he said. “But there’s one thing not clear to me. +There was an echo. Now, no man ever seen a sperrit with a shadow; well +then, what’s he doing with an echo to him, I should like to know? That +ain’t in natur’, surely?” + +This argument seemed weak enough to me. But you can never tell what will +affect the superstitious, and to my wonder, George Merry was greatly +relieved. + +“Well, that’s so,” he said. “You’ve a head upon your shoulders, John, +and no mistake. ’Bout ship, mates! This here crew is on a wrong tack, I +do believe. And come to think on it, it was like Flint’s voice, I +grant you, but not just so clear-away like it, after all. It was liker +somebody else’s voice now--it was liker--” + +“By the powers, Ben Gunn!” roared Silver. + +“Aye, and so it were,” cried Morgan, springing on his knees. “Ben Gunn +it were!” + +“It don’t make much odds, do it, now?” asked Dick. “Ben Gunn’s not here +in the body any more’n Flint.” + +But the older hands greeted this remark with scorn. + +“Why, nobody minds Ben Gunn,” cried Merry; “dead or alive, nobody minds +him.” + +It was extraordinary how their spirits had returned and how the natural +colour had revived in their faces. Soon they were chatting together, +with intervals of listening; and not long after, hearing no further +sound, they shouldered the tools and set forth again, Merry walking +first with Silver’s compass to keep them on the right line with Skeleton +Island. He had said the truth: dead or alive, nobody minded Ben Gunn. + +Dick alone still held his Bible, and looked around him as he went, with +fearful glances; but he found no sympathy, and Silver even joked him on +his precautions. + +“I told you,” said he--“I told you you had sp’iled your Bible. If it +ain’t no good to swear by, what do you suppose a sperrit would give for +it? Not that!” and he snapped his big fingers, halting a moment on his +crutch. + +But Dick was not to be comforted; indeed, it was soon plain to me that +the lad was falling sick; hastened by heat, exhaustion, and the shock +of his alarm, the fever, predicted by Dr. Livesey, was evidently growing +swiftly higher. + +It was fine open walking here, upon the summit; our way lay a little +downhill, for, as I have said, the plateau tilted towards the west. The +pines, great and small, grew wide apart; and even between the clumps of +nutmeg and azalea, wide open spaces baked in the hot sunshine. Striking, +as we did, pretty near north-west across the island, we drew, on the +one hand, ever nearer under the shoulders of the Spy-glass, and on the +other, looked ever wider over that western bay where I had once tossed +and trembled in the coracle. + +The first of the tall trees was reached, and by the bearings proved the +wrong one. So with the second. The third rose nearly two hundred feet +into the air above a clump of underwood--a giant of a vegetable, with +a red column as big as a cottage, and a wide shadow around in which a +company could have manoeuvred. It was conspicuous far to sea both on +the east and west and might have been entered as a sailing mark upon the +chart. + +But it was not its size that now impressed my companions; it was the +knowledge that seven hundred thousand pounds in gold lay somewhere +buried below its spreading shadow. The thought of the money, as they +drew nearer, swallowed up their previous terrors. Their eyes burned in +their heads; their feet grew speedier and lighter; their whole soul +was bound up in that fortune, that whole lifetime of extravagance and +pleasure, that lay waiting there for each of them. + +Silver hobbled, grunting, on his crutch; his nostrils stood out and +quivered; he cursed like a madman when the flies settled on his hot and +shiny countenance; he plucked furiously at the line that held me to +him and from time to time turned his eyes upon me with a deadly look. +Certainly he took no pains to hide his thoughts, and certainly I read +them like print. In the immediate nearness of the gold, all else had +been forgotten: his promise and the doctor’s warning were both things +of the past, and I could not doubt that he hoped to seize upon the +treasure, find and board the HISPANIOLA under cover of night, cut +every honest throat about that island, and sail away as he had at first +intended, laden with crimes and riches. + +Shaken as I was with these alarms, it was hard for me to keep up with +the rapid pace of the treasure-hunters. Now and again I stumbled, and it +was then that Silver plucked so roughly at the rope and launched at me +his murderous glances. Dick, who had dropped behind us and now brought +up the rear, was babbling to himself both prayers and curses as his +fever kept rising. This also added to my wretchedness, and to crown all, +I was haunted by the thought of the tragedy that had once been acted +on that plateau, when that ungodly buccaneer with the blue face--he who +died at Savannah, singing and shouting for drink--had there, with his +own hand, cut down his six accomplices. This grove that was now so +peaceful must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the +thought I could believe I heard it ringing still. + +We were now at the margin of the thicket. + +“Huzza, mates, all together!” shouted Merry; and the foremost broke into +a run. + +And suddenly, not ten yards further, we beheld them stop. A low cry +arose. Silver doubled his pace, digging away with the foot of his crutch +like one possessed; and next moment he and I had come also to a dead +halt. + +Before us was a great excavation, not very recent, for the sides had +fallen in and grass had sprouted on the bottom. In this were the shaft +of a pick broken in two and the boards of several packing-cases strewn +around. On one of these boards I saw, branded with a hot iron, the name +WALRUS--the name of Flint’s ship. + +All was clear to probation. The CACHE had been found and rifled; the +seven hundred thousand pounds were gone! + + + + +33 + +The Fall of a Chieftain + +THERE never was such an overturn in this world. Each of these six men +was as though he had been struck. But with Silver the blow passed almost +instantly. Every thought of his soul had been set full-stretch, like a +racer, on that money; well, he was brought up, in a single second, dead; +and he kept his head, found his temper, and changed his plan before the +others had had time to realize the disappointment. + +“Jim,” he whispered, “take that, and stand by for trouble.” + +And he passed me a double-barrelled pistol. + +At the same time, he began quietly moving northward, and in a few steps +had put the hollow between us two and the other five. Then he looked at +me and nodded, as much as to say, “Here is a narrow corner,” as, indeed, +I thought it was. His looks were not quite friendly, and I was so +revolted at these constant changes that I could not forbear whispering, +“So you’ve changed sides again.” + +There was no time left for him to answer in. The buccaneers, with oaths +and cries, began to leap, one after another, into the pit and to dig +with their fingers, throwing the boards aside as they did so. Morgan +found a piece of gold. He held it up with a perfect spout of oaths. It +was a two-guinea piece, and it went from hand to hand among them for a +quarter of a minute. + +“Two guineas!” roared Merry, shaking it at Silver. “That’s your seven +hundred thousand pounds, is it? You’re the man for bargains, ain’t you? +You’re him that never bungled nothing, you wooden-headed lubber!” + +“Dig away, boys,” said Silver with the coolest insolence; “you’ll find +some pig-nuts and I shouldn’t wonder.” + +“Pig-nuts!” repeated Merry, in a scream. “Mates, do you hear that? I +tell you now, that man there knew it all along. Look in the face of him +and you’ll see it wrote there.” + +“Ah, Merry,” remarked Silver, “standing for cap’n again? You’re a +pushing lad, to be sure.” + +But this time everyone was entirely in Merry’s favour. They began to +scramble out of the excavation, darting furious glances behind them. One +thing I observed, which looked well for us: they all got out upon the +opposite side from Silver. + +Well, there we stood, two on one side, five on the other, the pit +between us, and nobody screwed up high enough to offer the first blow. +Silver never moved; he watched them, very upright on his crutch, and +looked as cool as ever I saw him. He was brave, and no mistake. + +At last Merry seemed to think a speech might help matters. + +“Mates,” says he, “there’s two of them alone there; one’s the old +cripple that brought us all here and blundered us down to this; the +other’s that cub that I mean to have the heart of. Now, mates--” + +He was raising his arm and his voice, and plainly meant to lead a +charge. But just then--crack! crack! crack!--three musket-shots flashed +out of the thicket. Merry tumbled head foremost into the excavation; the +man with the bandage spun round like a teetotum and fell all his length +upon his side, where he lay dead, but still twitching; and the other +three turned and ran for it with all their might. + +Before you could wink, Long John had fired two barrels of a pistol into +the struggling Merry, and as the man rolled up his eyes at him in the +last agony, “George,” said he, “I reckon I settled you.” + +At the same moment, the doctor, Gray, and Ben Gunn joined us, with +smoking muskets, from among the nutmeg-trees. + +“Forward!” cried the doctor. “Double quick, my lads. We must head ’em +off the boats.” + +And we set off at a great pace, sometimes plunging through the bushes to +the chest. + +I tell you, but Silver was anxious to keep up with us. The work that man +went through, leaping on his crutch till the muscles of his chest were +fit to burst, was work no sound man ever equalled; and so thinks the +doctor. As it was, he was already thirty yards behind us and on the +verge of strangling when we reached the brow of the slope. + +“Doctor,” he hailed, “see there! No hurry!” + +Sure enough there was no hurry. In a more open part of the plateau, we +could see the three survivors still running in the same direction as +they had started, right for Mizzenmast Hill. We were already between +them and the boats; and so we four sat down to breathe, while Long John, +mopping his face, came slowly up with us. + +“Thank ye kindly, doctor,” says he. “You came in in about the nick, I +guess, for me and Hawkins. And so it’s you, Ben Gunn!” he added. “Well, +you’re a nice one, to be sure.” + +“I’m Ben Gunn, I am,” replied the maroon, wriggling like an eel in his +embarrassment. “And,” he added, after a long pause, “how do, Mr. Silver? +Pretty well, I thank ye, says you.” + +“Ben, Ben,” murmured Silver, “to think as you’ve done me!” + +The doctor sent back Gray for one of the pick-axes deserted, in their +flight, by the mutineers, and then as we proceeded leisurely downhill to +where the boats were lying, related in a few words what had taken place. +It was a story that profoundly interested Silver; and Ben Gunn, the +half-idiot maroon, was the hero from beginning to end. + +Ben, in his long, lonely wanderings about the island, had found the +skeleton--it was he that had rifled it; he had found the treasure; he +had dug it up (it was the haft of his pick-axe that lay broken in the +excavation); he had carried it on his back, in many weary journeys, from +the foot of the tall pine to a cave he had on the two-pointed hill at +the north-east angle of the island, and there it had lain stored in +safety since two months before the arrival of the HISPANIOLA. + +When the doctor had wormed this secret from him on the afternoon of the +attack, and when next morning he saw the anchorage deserted, he had gone +to Silver, given him the chart, which was now useless--given him the +stores, for Ben Gunn’s cave was well supplied with goats’ meat salted +by himself--given anything and everything to get a chance of moving in +safety from the stockade to the two-pointed hill, there to be clear of +malaria and keep a guard upon the money. + +“As for you, Jim,” he said, “it went against my heart, but I did what I +thought best for those who had stood by their duty; and if you were not +one of these, whose fault was it?” + +That morning, finding that I was to be involved in the horrid +disappointment he had prepared for the mutineers, he had run all the way +to the cave, and leaving the squire to guard the captain, had taken Gray +and the maroon and started, making the diagonal across the island to be +at hand beside the pine. Soon, however, he saw that our party had the +start of him; and Ben Gunn, being fleet of foot, had been dispatched in +front to do his best alone. Then it had occurred to him to work upon the +superstitions of his former shipmates, and he was so far successful that +Gray and the doctor had come up and were already ambushed before the +arrival of the treasure-hunters. + +“Ah,” said Silver, “it were fortunate for me that I had Hawkins here. +You would have let old John be cut to bits, and never given it a +thought, doctor.” + +“Not a thought,” replied Dr. Livesey cheerily. + +And by this time we had reached the gigs. The doctor, with the pick-axe, +demolished one of them, and then we all got aboard the other and set out +to go round by sea for North Inlet. + +This was a run of eight or nine miles. Silver, though he was almost +killed already with fatigue, was set to an oar, like the rest of us, and +we were soon skimming swiftly over a smooth sea. Soon we passed out +of the straits and doubled the south-east corner of the island, round +which, four days ago, we had towed the HISPANIOLA. + +As we passed the two-pointed hill, we could see the black mouth of Ben +Gunn’s cave and a figure standing by it, leaning on a musket. It was the +squire, and we waved a handkerchief and gave him three cheers, in which +the voice of Silver joined as heartily as any. + +Three miles farther, just inside the mouth of North Inlet, what should +we meet but the HISPANIOLA, cruising by herself? The last flood had +lifted her, and had there been much wind or a strong tide current, as +in the southern anchorage, we should never have found her more, or found +her stranded beyond help. As it was, there was little amiss beyond the +wreck of the main-sail. Another anchor was got ready and dropped in a +fathom and a half of water. We all pulled round again to Rum Cove, +the nearest point for Ben Gunn’s treasure-house; and then Gray, +single-handed, returned with the gig to the HISPANIOLA, where he was to +pass the night on guard. + +A gentle slope ran up from the beach to the entrance of the cave. At the +top, the squire met us. To me he was cordial and kind, saying nothing +of my escapade either in the way of blame or praise. At Silver’s polite +salute he somewhat flushed. + +“John Silver,” he said, “you’re a prodigious villain and imposter--a +monstrous imposter, sir. I am told I am not to prosecute you. Well, +then, I will not. But the dead men, sir, hang about your neck like +mill-stones.” + +“Thank you kindly, sir,” replied Long John, again saluting. + +“I dare you to thank me!” cried the squire. “It is a gross dereliction +of my duty. Stand back.” + +And thereupon we all entered the cave. It was a large, airy place, with +a little spring and a pool of clear water, overhung with ferns. The +floor was sand. Before a big fire lay Captain Smollett; and in a far +corner, only duskily flickered over by the blaze, I beheld great heaps +of coin and quadrilaterals built of bars of gold. That was Flint’s +treasure that we had come so far to seek and that had cost already the +lives of seventeen men from the HISPANIOLA. How many it had cost in the +amassing, what blood and sorrow, what good ships scuttled on the deep, +what brave men walking the plank blindfold, what shot of cannon, what +shame and lies and cruelty, perhaps no man alive could tell. Yet there +were still three upon that island--Silver, and old Morgan, and Ben +Gunn--who had each taken his share in these crimes, as each had hoped in +vain to share in the reward. + +“Come in, Jim,” said the captain. “You’re a good boy in your line, Jim, +but I don’t think you and me’ll go to sea again. You’re too much of the +born favourite for me. Is that you, John Silver? What brings you here, +man?” + +“Come back to my dooty, sir,” returned Silver. + +“Ah!” said the captain, and that was all he said. + +What a supper I had of it that night, with all my friends around me; and +what a meal it was, with Ben Gunn’s salted goat and some delicacies and +a bottle of old wine from the HISPANIOLA. Never, I am sure, were people +gayer or happier. And there was Silver, sitting back almost out of the +firelight, but eating heartily, prompt to spring forward when anything +was wanted, even joining quietly in our laughter--the same bland, +polite, obsequious seaman of the voyage out. + + + + +34 + +And Last + +THE next morning we fell early to work, for the transportation of this +great mass of gold near a mile by land to the beach, and thence three +miles by boat to the HISPANIOLA, was a considerable task for so small +a number of workmen. The three fellows still abroad upon the island did +not greatly trouble us; a single sentry on the shoulder of the hill was +sufficient to ensure us against any sudden onslaught, and we thought, +besides, they had had more than enough of fighting. + +Therefore the work was pushed on briskly. Gray and Ben Gunn came and +went with the boat, while the rest during their absences piled treasure +on the beach. Two of the bars, slung in a rope’s end, made a good load +for a grown man--one that he was glad to walk slowly with. For my part, +as I was not much use at carrying, I was kept busy all day in the cave +packing the minted money into bread-bags. + +It was a strange collection, like Billy Bones’s hoard for the diversity +of coinage, but so much larger and so much more varied that I think I +never had more pleasure than in sorting them. English, French, Spanish, +Portuguese, Georges, and Louises, doubloons and double guineas and +moidores and sequins, the pictures of all the kings of Europe for the +last hundred years, strange Oriental pieces stamped with what looked +like wisps of string or bits of spider’s web, round pieces and square +pieces, and pieces bored through the middle, as if to wear them round +your neck--nearly every variety of money in the world must, I think, +have found a place in that collection; and for number, I am sure they +were like autumn leaves, so that my back ached with stooping and my +fingers with sorting them out. + +Day after day this work went on; by every evening a fortune had been +stowed aboard, but there was another fortune waiting for the morrow; and +all this time we heard nothing of the three surviving mutineers. + +At last--I think it was on the third night--the doctor and I were +strolling on the shoulder of the hill where it overlooks the lowlands of +the isle, when, from out the thick darkness below, the wind brought us +a noise between shrieking and singing. It was only a snatch that reached +our ears, followed by the former silence. + +“Heaven forgive them,” said the doctor; “’tis the mutineers!” + +“All drunk, sir,” struck in the voice of Silver from behind us. + +Silver, I should say, was allowed his entire liberty, and in spite of +daily rebuffs, seemed to regard himself once more as quite a privileged +and friendly dependent. Indeed, it was remarkable how well he bore +these slights and with what unwearying politeness he kept on trying to +ingratiate himself with all. Yet, I think, none treated him better than +a dog, unless it was Ben Gunn, who was still terribly afraid of his old +quartermaster, or myself, who had really something to thank him for; +although for that matter, I suppose, I had reason to think even worse of +him than anybody else, for I had seen him meditating a fresh treachery +upon the plateau. Accordingly, it was pretty gruffly that the doctor +answered him. + +“Drunk or raving,” said he. + +“Right you were, sir,” replied Silver; “and precious little odds which, +to you and me.” + +“I suppose you would hardly ask me to call you a humane man,” returned +the doctor with a sneer, “and so my feelings may surprise you, Master +Silver. But if I were sure they were raving--as I am morally certain +one, at least, of them is down with fever--I should leave this camp, +and at whatever risk to my own carcass, take them the assistance of my +skill.” + +“Ask your pardon, sir, you would be very wrong,” quoth Silver. “You +would lose your precious life, and you may lay to that. I’m on your side +now, hand and glove; and I shouldn’t wish for to see the party weakened, +let alone yourself, seeing as I know what I owes you. But these men down +there, they couldn’t keep their word--no, not supposing they wished to; +and what’s more, they couldn’t believe as you could.” + +“No,” said the doctor. “You’re the man to keep your word, we know that.” + +Well, that was about the last news we had of the three pirates. Only +once we heard a gunshot a great way off and supposed them to be hunting. +A council was held, and it was decided that we must desert them on the +island--to the huge glee, I must say, of Ben Gunn, and with the strong +approval of Gray. We left a good stock of powder and shot, the bulk +of the salt goat, a few medicines, and some other necessaries, tools, +clothing, a spare sail, a fathom or two of rope, and by the particular +desire of the doctor, a handsome present of tobacco. + +That was about our last doing on the island. Before that, we had got the +treasure stowed and had shipped enough water and the remainder of the +goat meat in case of any distress; and at last, one fine morning, we +weighed anchor, which was about all that we could manage, and stood out +of North Inlet, the same colours flying that the captain had flown and +fought under at the palisade. + +The three fellows must have been watching us closer than we thought for, +as we soon had proved. For coming through the narrows, we had to +lie very near the southern point, and there we saw all three of +them kneeling together on a spit of sand, with their arms raised in +supplication. It went to all our hearts, I think, to leave them in that +wretched state; but we could not risk another mutiny; and to take them +home for the gibbet would have been a cruel sort of kindness. The doctor +hailed them and told them of the stores we had left, and where they were +to find them. But they continued to call us by name and appeal to us, +for God’s sake, to be merciful and not leave them to die in such a +place. + +At last, seeing the ship still bore on her course and was now swiftly +drawing out of earshot, one of them--I know not which it was--leapt to +his feet with a hoarse cry, whipped his musket to his shoulder, and sent +a shot whistling over Silver’s head and through the main-sail. + +After that, we kept under cover of the bulwarks, and when next I looked +out they had disappeared from the spit, and the spit itself had almost +melted out of sight in the growing distance. That was, at least, the end +of that; and before noon, to my inexpressible joy, the highest rock of +Treasure Island had sunk into the blue round of sea. + +We were so short of men that everyone on board had to bear a hand--only +the captain lying on a mattress in the stern and giving his orders, for +though greatly recovered he was still in want of quiet. We laid her +head for the nearest port in Spanish America, for we could not risk the +voyage home without fresh hands; and as it was, what with baffling winds +and a couple of fresh gales, we were all worn out before we reached it. + +It was just at sundown when we cast anchor in a most beautiful +land-locked gulf, and were immediately surrounded by shore boats full +of Negroes and Mexican Indians and half-bloods selling fruits and +vegetables and offering to dive for bits of money. The sight of so many +good-humoured faces (especially the blacks), the taste of the tropical +fruits, and above all the lights that began to shine in the town made a +most charming contrast to our dark and bloody sojourn on the island; +and the doctor and the squire, taking me along with them, went ashore +to pass the early part of the night. Here they met the captain of an +English man-of-war, fell in talk with him, went on board his ship, and, +in short, had so agreeable a time that day was breaking when we came +alongside the HISPANIOLA. + +Ben Gunn was on deck alone, and as soon as we came on board he began, +with wonderful contortions, to make us a confession. Silver was gone. +The maroon had connived at his escape in a shore boat some hours ago, +and he now assured us he had only done so to preserve our lives, which +would certainly have been forfeit if “that man with the one leg +had stayed aboard.” But this was not all. The sea-cook had not gone +empty-handed. He had cut through a bulkhead unobserved and had removed +one of the sacks of coin, worth perhaps three or four hundred guineas, +to help him on his further wanderings. + +I think we were all pleased to be so cheaply quit of him. + +Well, to make a long story short, we got a few hands on board, made a +good cruise home, and the HISPANIOLA reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly +was beginning to think of fitting out her consort. Five men only of +those who had sailed returned with her. “Drink and the devil had done +for the rest,” with a vengeance, although, to be sure, we were not quite +in so bad a case as that other ship they sang about: + + With one man of her crew alive, + What put to sea with seventy-five. + +All of us had an ample share of the treasure and used it wisely or +foolishly, according to our natures. Captain Smollett is now retired +from the sea. Gray not only saved his money, but being suddenly smit +with the desire to rise, also studied his profession, and he is now +mate and part owner of a fine full-rigged ship, married besides, and the +father of a family. As for Ben Gunn, he got a thousand pounds, which he +spent or lost in three weeks, or to be more exact, in nineteen days, for +he was back begging on the twentieth. Then he was given a lodge to keep, +exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great +favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a +notable singer in church on Sundays and saints’ days. + +Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable seafaring man with one +leg has at last gone clean out of my life; but I dare say he met his old +Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint. +It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of comfort in another +world are very small. + +The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where +Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and +wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island; and +the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about +its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint +still ringing in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” diff --git a/search-engine/books/Winnie-the-Pooh.txt b/search-engine/books/Winnie-the-Pooh.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4f2672 --- /dev/null +++ b/search-engine/books/Winnie-the-Pooh.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3981 @@ +Title: Winnie-the-Pooh +Author: A. A. Milne + + WINNIE-THE-POOH + + _BY A. A. MILNE_ + + + + + _JUVENILES_ + + When We Were Very Young + + "_The best book of verses for children_ _ever written._"--A. EDWARD + NEWTON in _The Atlantic Monthly_. + + Fourteen Songs from When We Were Very Young + + Words by A. A. Milne. Music by H. Fraser-Simson. Decorations by + E. H. Shepard. + + The King's Breakfast + + Words by A. A. Milne. Music by H. Fraser-Simson. Decorations by + E. H. Shepard + + + _ESSAYS_ + + Not That It Matters + The Sunny Side + If I May + + + _MYSTERY STORY_ + + The Red House Mystery + + + + + WINNIE-THE-POOH + BY A. A. MILNE + + McCLELLAND & STEWART, LTD. + + PUBLISHERS - - TORONTO + + + + + Copyright, Canada, 1926 + By McClelland & Stewart, Limited + Publishers, Toronto + + First Printing, October, 1926 + Second " July, 1927 + Third " December, 1928 + Fourth " December, 1929 + Fifth " March, 1931 + + Printed in Canada + + + + + TO HER + + HAND IN HAND WE COME + CHRISTOPHER ROBIN AND I + TO LAY THIS BOOK IN YOUR LAP. + SAY YOU'RE SURPRISED? + SAY YOU LIKE IT? + SAY IT'S JUST WHAT YOU WANTED? + BECAUSE IT'S YOURS---- + BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU. + + + + + INTRODUCTION + +If you happen to have read another book about Christopher Robin, you may +remember that he once had a swan (or the swan had Christopher Robin, I +don't know which) and that he used to call this swan Pooh. That was a +long time ago, and when we said good-bye, we took the name with us, as +we didn't think the swan would want it any more. Well, when Edward Bear +said that he would like an exciting name all to himself, Christopher +Robin said at once, without stopping to think, that he was +Winnie-the-Pooh. And he was. So, as I have explained the Pooh part, I +will now explain the rest of it. + +You can't be in London for long without going to the Zoo. There are some +people who begin the Zoo at the beginning, called WAYIN, and walk as +quickly as they can past every cage until they get to the one called +WAYOUT, but the nicest people go straight to the animal they love the +most, and stay there. So when Christopher Robin goes to the Zoo, he goes +to where the Polar Bears are, and he whispers something to the third +keeper from the left, and doors are unlocked, and we wander through dark +passages and up steep stairs, until at last we come to the special cage, +and the cage is opened, and out trots something brown and furry, and +with a happy cry of "Oh, Bear!" Christopher Robin rushes into its arms. +Now this bear's name is Winnie, which shows what a good name for bears +it is, but the funny thing is that we can't remember whether Winnie is +called after Pooh, or Pooh after Winnie. We did know once, but we have +forgotten.... + +I had written as far as this when Piglet looked up and said in his +squeaky voice, "What about _Me_?" "My dear Piglet," I said, "the whole +book is about you." "So it is about Pooh," he squeaked. You see what it +is. He is jealous because he thinks Pooh is having a Grand Introduction +all to himself. Pooh is the favourite, of course, there's no denying it, +but Piglet comes in for a good many things which Pooh misses; because +you can't take Pooh to school without everybody knowing it, but Piglet +is so small that he slips into a pocket, where it is very comforting to +feel him when you are not quite sure whether twice seven is twelve or +twenty-two. Sometimes he slips out and has a good look in the ink-pot, +and in this way he has got more education than Pooh, but Pooh doesn't +mind. Some have brains, and some haven't, he says, and there it is. + +And now all the others are saying, "What about _Us_?" So perhaps the +best thing to do is to stop writing Introductions and get on with the +book. + + A. A. M. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. IN WHICH WE ARE INTRODUCED TO WINNIE-THE-POOH AND SOME + BEES, AND THE STORIES BEGIN + + II. IN WHICH POOH GOES VISITING AND GETS INTO A TIGHT PLACE + + III. IN WHICH POOH AND PIGLET GO HUNTING AND NEARLY CATCH A + WOOZLE + + IV. IN WHICH EEYORE LOSES A TAIL AND POOH FINDS ONE + + V. IN WHICH PIGLET MEETS A HEFFALUMP + + VI. IN WHICH EEYORE HAS A BIRTHDAY AND GETS TWO PRESENTS + + VII. IN WHICH KANGA AND BABY ROO COME TO THE FOREST, AND + PIGLET HAS A BATH + + VIII. IN WHICH CHRISTOPHER ROBIN LEADS AN EXPOTITION TO THE + NORTH POLE + + IX. IN WHICH PIGLET IS ENTIRELY SURROUNDED BY WATER + + X. IN WHICH CHRISTOPHER ROBIN GIVES A POOH PARTY, AND WE SAY + GOOD-BYE + + + + + WINNIE-THE-POOH + + + + + CHAPTER I + + IN WHICH WE ARE INTRODUCED TO + WINNIE-THE-POOH AND SOME BEES, + AND THE STORIES BEGIN + + +Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the +back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, +the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there +really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and +think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he +is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh. + +When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, "But +I thought he was a boy?" + +"So did I," said Christopher Robin. + +"Then you can't call him Winnie?" + +"I don't." + +"But you said----" + +"He's Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don't you know what '_ther_' means?" + +"Ah, yes, now I do," I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it +is all the explanation you are going to get. + +Sometimes Winnie-the-Pooh likes a game of some sort when he comes +downstairs, and sometimes he likes to sit quietly in front of the fire +and listen to a story. This evening---- + +"What about a story?" said Christopher Robin. + +"_What_ about a story?" I said. + +"Could you very sweetly tell Winnie-the-Pooh one?" + +"I suppose I could," I said. "What sort of stories does he like?" + +"About himself. Because he's _that_ sort of Bear." + +"Oh, I see." + +"So could you very sweetly?" + +"I'll try," I said. + +So I tried. + + * * * * * + +Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, +Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of +Sanders. + +(_"What does 'under the name' mean?" asked Christopher Robin._ + +"_It means he had the name over the door in gold letters, and lived +under it._" + +_"Winnie-the-Pooh wasn't quite sure," said Christopher Robin._ + +_"Now I am," said a growly voice._ + +_"Then I will go on," said I._) + +One day when he was out walking, he came to an open place in the middle +of the forest, and in the middle of this place was a large oak-tree, +and, from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing-noise. + +Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between +his paws and began to think. + +First of all he said to himself: "That buzzing-noise means something. +You don't get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, +without its meaning something. If there's a buzzing-noise, somebody's +making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise +that _I_ know of is because you're a bee." + +Then he thought another long time, and said: "And the only reason for +being a bee that I know of is making honey." + +And then he got up, and said: "And the only reason for making honey is +so as _I_ can eat it." So he began to climb the tree. + +He climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and as he climbed he sang a +little song to himself. It went like this: + + Isn't it funny + How a bear likes honey? + Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! + I wonder why he does? + +Then he climbed a little further ... and a little further ... and +then just a little further. By that time he had thought of another song. + + It's a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees, + They'd build their nests at the _bottom_ of trees. + And that being so (if the Bees were Bears), + We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs. + +He was getting rather tired by this time, so that is why he sang a +Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if he just stood on that +branch ... + +_Crack!_ + +"Oh, help!" said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the branch below him. + +"If only I hadn't----" he said, as he bounced twenty feet on to the next +branch. + +"You see, what I _meant_ to do," he explained, as he turned +head-over-heels, and crashed on to another branch thirty feet below, +"what I _meant_ to do----" + +"Of course, it _was_ rather----" he admitted, as he slithered very +quickly through the next six branches. + +"It all comes, I suppose," he decided, as he said good-bye to the last +branch, spun round three times, and flew gracefully into a gorse-bush, +"it all comes of _liking_ honey so much. Oh, help!" + +He crawled out of the gorse-bush, brushed the prickles from his nose, +and began to think again. And the first person he thought of was +Christopher Robin. + +(_"Was that me?" said Christopher Robin in an awed voice, hardly daring +to believe it._ + +"_That was you._" + +_Christopher Robin said nothing, but his eyes got larger and larger, and +his face got pinker and pinker._) + +So Winnie-the-Pooh went round to his friend Christopher Robin, who lived +behind a green door in another part of the forest. + +"Good morning, Christopher Robin," he said. + +"Good morning, Winnie-_ther_-Pooh," said you. + +"I wonder if you've got such a thing as a balloon about you?" + +"A balloon?" + +"Yes, I just said to myself coming along: 'I wonder if Christopher Robin +has such a thing as a balloon about him?' I just said it to myself, +thinking of balloons, and wondering." + +"What do you want a balloon for?" you said. + +Winnie-the-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was listening, put his +paw to his mouth, and said in a deep whisper: "_Honey!_" + +"But you don't get honey with balloons!" + +"_I_ do," said Pooh. + +Well, it just happened that you had been to a party the day before at +the house of your friend Piglet, and you had balloons at the party. You +had had a big green balloon; and one of Rabbit's relations had had a big +blue one, and had left it behind, being really too young to go to a +party at all; and so you had brought the green one _and_ the blue one +home with you. + +"Which one would you like?" you asked Pooh. + +He put his head between his paws and thought very carefully. + +"It's like this," he said. "When you go after honey with a balloon, the +great thing is not to let the bees know you're coming. Now, if you have +a green balloon, they might think you were only part of the tree, and +not notice you, and, if you have a blue balloon, they might think you +were only part of the sky, and not notice you, and the question is: +Which is most likely?" + +"Wouldn't they notice _you_ underneath the balloon?" you asked. + +"They might or they might not," said Winnie-the-Pooh. "You never can +tell with bees." He thought for a moment and said: "I shall try to look +like a small black cloud. That will deceive them." + +"Then you had better have the blue balloon," you said; and so it was +decided. + +Well, you both went out with the blue balloon, and you took your gun +with you, just in case, as you always did, and Winnie-the-Pooh went to a +very muddy place that he knew of, and rolled and rolled until he was +black all over; and then, when the balloon was blown up as big as big, +and you and Pooh were both holding on to the string, you let go +suddenly, and Pooh Bear floated gracefully up into the sky, and stayed +there--level with the top of the tree and about twenty feet away from +it. + +"Hooray!" you shouted. + +"Isn't that fine?" shouted Winnie-the-Pooh down to you. "What do I look +like?" + +"You look like a Bear holding on to a balloon," you said. + +"Not," said Pooh anxiously, "--not like a small black cloud in a blue +sky?" + +"Not very much." + +"Ah, well, perhaps from up here it looks different. And, as I say, you +never can tell with bees." + +There was no wind to blow him nearer to the tree, so there he stayed. He +could see the honey, he could smell the honey, but he couldn't quite +reach the honey. + +After a little while he called down to you. + +"Christopher Robin!" he said in a loud whisper. + +"Hallo!" + +"I think the bees _suspect_ something!" + +"What sort of thing?" + +"I don't know. But something tells me that they're _suspicious_!" + +"Perhaps they think that you're after their honey." + +"It may be that. You never can tell with bees." + +There was another little silence, and then he called down to you again. + +"Christopher Robin!" + +"Yes?" + +"Have you an umbrella in your house?" + +"I think so." + +"I wish you would bring it out here, and walk up and down with it, and +look up at me every now and then, and say 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain.' +I think, if you did that, it would help the deception which we are +practising on these bees." + +Well, you laughed to yourself, "Silly old Bear!" but you didn't say it +aloud because you were so fond of him, and you went home for your +umbrella. + +"Oh, there you are!" called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as soon as you got +back to the tree. "I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered +that the bees are now definitely Suspicious." + +"Shall I put my umbrella up?" you said. + +"Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to +deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down +there?" + +"No." + +"A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, +'Tut-tut, it looks like rain,' I shall do what I can by singing a little +Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing.... Go!" + +So, while you walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, +Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song: + + How sweet to be a Cloud + Floating in the Blue! + Every little cloud + _Always_ sings aloud. + + "How sweet to be a Cloud + Floating in the Blue!" + It makes him very proud + To be a little cloud. + +The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, +indeed, left their nests and flew all round the cloud as it began the +second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud +for a moment, and then got up again. + +"Christopher--_ow!_--Robin," called out the cloud. + +"Yes?" + +"I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very important +decision. _These are the wrong sort of bees._" + +"Are they?" + +"Quite the wrong sort. So I should think they would make the wrong sort +of honey, shouldn't you?" + +"Would they?" + +"Yes. So I think I shall come down." + +"How?" asked you. + +Winnie-the-Pooh hadn't thought about this. If he let go of the string, +he would fall--_bump_--and he didn't like the idea of that. So he +thought for a long time, and then he said: + +"Christopher Robin, you must shoot the balloon with your gun. Have you +got your gun?" + +"Of course I have," you said. "But if I do that, it will spoil the +balloon," you said. + +"But if you _don't_," said Pooh, "I shall have to let go, and that would +spoil _me_." + +When he put it like this, you saw how it was, and you aimed very +carefully at the balloon, and fired. + +"_Ow!_" said Pooh. + +"Did I miss?" you asked. + +"You didn't exactly _miss_," said Pooh, "but you missed the _balloon_." + +"I'm so sorry," you said, and you fired again, and this time you hit the +balloon, and the air came slowly out, and Winnie-the-Pooh floated down +to the ground. + +But his arms were so stiff from holding on to the string of the balloon +all that time that they stayed up straight in the air for more than a +week, and whenever a fly came and settled on his nose he had to blow it +off. And I think--but I am not sure--that _that_ is why he was always +called Pooh. + + * * * * * + +"Is that the end of the story?" asked Christopher Robin. + +"That's the end of that one. There are others." + +"About Pooh and Me?" + +"And Piglet and Rabbit and all of you. Don't you remember?" + +"I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I forget." + +"That day when Pooh and Piglet tried to catch the Heffalump----" + +"They didn't catch it, did they?" + +"No." + +"Pooh couldn't, because he hasn't any brain. Did _I_ catch it?" + +"Well, that comes into the story." + +Christopher Robin nodded. + +"I do remember," he said, "only Pooh doesn't very well, so that's why he +likes having it told to him again. Because then it's a real story and +not just a remembering." + +"That's just how _I_ feel," I said. + +Christopher Robin gave a deep sigh, picked his Bear up by the leg, and +walked off to the door, trailing Pooh behind him. At the door he turned +and said, "Coming to see me have my bath?" + +"I might," I said. + +"I didn't hurt him when I shot him, did I?" + +"Not a bit." + +He nodded and went out, and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh--_bump, +bump, bump_--going up the stairs behind him. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + IN WHICH POOH GOES VISITING AND + GETS INTO A TIGHT PLACE + + +Edward Bear, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for +short, was walking through the forest one day, humming proudly to +himself. He had made up a little hum that very morning, as he was doing +his Stoutness Exercises in front of the glass: _Tra-la-la, tra-la-la_, +as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then _Tra-la-la, +tra-la--oh, help!--la_, as he tried to reach his toes. After breakfast +he had said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by +heart, and now he was humming it right through, properly. It went like +this: + + _Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,_ + _Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,_ + _Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum._ + _Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,_ + _Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,_ + _Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um._ + +Well, he was humming this hum to himself, and walking along gaily, +wondering what everybody else was doing, and what it felt like, being +somebody else, when suddenly he came to a sandy bank, and in the bank +was a large hole. + +"Aha!" said Pooh. (_Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum._) "If I know anything about +anything, that hole means Rabbit," he said, "and Rabbit means Company," +he said, "and Company means Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and such +like. _Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um._" + +So he bent down, put his head into the hole, and called out: + +"Is anybody at home?" + +There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the hole, and then +silence. + +"What I said was, 'Is anybody at home?'" called out Pooh very loudly. + +"No!" said a voice; and then added, "You needn't shout so loud. I heard +you quite well the first time." + +"Bother!" said Pooh. "Isn't there anybody here at all?" + +"Nobody." + +Winnie-the-Pooh took his head out of the hole, and thought for a little, +and he thought to himself, "There must be somebody there, because +somebody must have _said_ 'Nobody.'" So he put his head back in the +hole, and said: + +"Hallo, Rabbit, isn't that you?" + +"No," said Rabbit, in a different sort of voice this time. + +"But isn't that Rabbit's voice?" + +"I don't _think_ so," said Rabbit. "It isn't _meant_ to be." + +"Oh!" said Pooh. + +He took his head out of the hole, and had another think, and then he put +it back, and said: + +"Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabbit is?" + +"He has gone to see his friend Pooh Bear, who is a great friend of his." + +"But this _is_ Me!" said Bear, very much surprised. + +"What sort of Me?" + +"Pooh Bear." + +"Are you sure?" said Rabbit, still more surprised. + +"Quite, quite sure," said Pooh. + +"Oh, well, then, come in." + +So Pooh pushed and pushed and pushed his way through the hole, and at +last he got in. + +"You were quite right," said Rabbit, looking at him all over. "It _is_ +you. Glad to see you." + +"Who did you think it was?" + +"Well, I wasn't sure. You know how it is in the Forest. One can't have +_anybody_ coming into one's house. One has to be _careful_. What about a +mouthful of something?" + +Pooh always liked a little something at eleven o'clock in the morning, +and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out the plates and mugs; and +when Rabbit said, "Honey or condensed milk with your bread?" he was so +excited that he said, "Both," and then, so as not to seem greedy, he +added, "But don't bother about the bread, please." And for a long time +after that he said nothing ... until at last, humming to himself in a +rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the paw, and +said that he must be going on. + +"Must you?" said Rabbit politely. + +"Well," said Pooh, "I could stay a little longer if it--if you----" and +he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder. + +"As a matter of fact," said Rabbit, "I was going out myself directly." + +"Oh, well, then, I'll be going on. Good-bye." + +"Well, good-bye, if you're sure you won't have any more." + +"_Is_ there any more?" asked Pooh quickly. + +Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, "No, there wasn't." + +"I thought not," said Pooh, nodding to himself. "Well, good-bye. I must +be going on." + +So he started to climb out of the hole. He pulled with his front paws, +and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in +the open again ... and then his ears ... and then his front paws ... +and then his shoulders ... and then---- + +"Oh, help!" said Pooh. "I'd better go back." + +"Oh, bother!" said Pooh. "I shall have to go on." + +"I can't do either!" said Pooh. "Oh, help _and_ bother!" + +Now by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the +front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round to Pooh, +and looked at him. + +"Hallo, are you stuck?" he asked. + +"N-no," said Pooh carelessly. "Just resting and thinking and humming to +myself." + +"Here, give us a paw." + +Pooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and pulled and +pulled.... + +"_Ow!_" cried Pooh. "You're hurting!" + +"The fact is," said Rabbit, "you're stuck." + +"It all comes," said Pooh crossly, "of not having front doors big +enough." + +"It all comes," said Rabbit sternly, "of eating too much. I thought at +the time," said Rabbit, "only I didn't like to say anything," said +Rabbit, "that one of us was eating too much," said Rabbit, "and I knew +it wasn't _me_," he said. "Well, well, I shall go and fetch Christopher +Robin." + +Christopher Robin lived at the other end of the Forest, and when he came +back with Rabbit, and saw the front half of Pooh, he said, "Silly old +Bear," in such a loving voice that everybody felt quite hopeful again. + +"I was just beginning to think," said Bear, sniffing slightly, "that +Rabbit might never be able to use his front door again. And I should +_hate_ that," he said. + +"So should I," said Rabbit. + +"Use his front door again?" said Christopher Robin. "Of course he'll use +his front door again." + +"Good," said Rabbit. + +"If we can't pull you out, Pooh, we might push you back." + +Rabbit scratched his whiskers thoughtfully, and pointed out that, when +once Pooh was pushed back, he was back, and of course nobody was more +glad to see Pooh than _he_ was, still there it was, some lived in trees +and some lived underground, and---- + +"You mean I'd _never_ get out?" said Pooh. + +"I mean," said Rabbit, "that having got _so_ far, it seems a pity to +waste it." + +Christopher Robin nodded. + +"Then there's only one thing to be done," he said. "We shall have to +wait for you to get thin again." + +"How long does getting thin take?" asked Pooh anxiously. + +"About a week, I should think." + +"But I can't stay here for a _week_!" + +"You can _stay_ here all right, silly old Bear. It's getting you out +which is so difficult." + +"We'll read to you," said Rabbit cheerfully. "And I hope it won't snow," +he added. "And I say, old fellow, you're taking up a good deal of room +in my house--_do_ you mind if I use your back legs as a towel-horse? +Because, I mean, there they are--doing nothing--and it would be very +convenient just to hang the towels on them." + +"A week!" said Pooh gloomily. "_What about meals?_" + +"I'm afraid no meals," said Christopher Robin, "because of getting thin +quicker. But we _will_ read to you." + +Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he was so tightly +stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said: + +"Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a +Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?" + +So for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end +of Pooh, and Rabbit hung his washing on the South end ... and in +between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And at the +end of the week Christopher Robin said, "_Now!_" + +So he took hold of Pooh's front paws and Rabbit took hold of Christopher +Robin, and all Rabbit's friends and relations took hold of Rabbit, and +they all pulled together.... + +And for a long time Pooh only said "_Ow!_" ... + +And "_Oh!_" ... + +And then, all of a sudden, he said "_Pop!_" just as if a cork were +coming out of a bottle. + +And Christopher Robin and Rabbit and all Rabbit's friends and relations +went head-over-heels backwards ... and on the top of them came +Winnie-the-Pooh--free! + +So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on with his walk +through the forest, humming proudly to himself. But, Christopher Robin +looked after him lovingly, and said to himself, "Silly old Bear!" + + + + + CHAPTER III + + IN WHICH POOH AND PIGLET GO HUNTING + AND NEARLY CATCH A WOOZLE + + +The Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree, +and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived +in the middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken +board which had: "TRESPASSERS W" on it. When Christopher Robin asked the +Piglet what it meant, he said it was his grandfather's name, and had +been in the family for a long time, Christopher Robin said you +_couldn't_ be called Trespassers W, and Piglet said yes, you could, +because his grandfather was, and it was short for Trespassers Will, +which was short for Trespassers William. And his grandfather had had two +names in case he lost one--Trespassers after an uncle, and William after +Trespassers. + +"I've got two names," said Christopher Robin carelessly. + +"Well, there you are, that proves it," said Piglet. + +One fine winter's day when Piglet was brushing away the snow in front of +his house, he happened to look up, and there was Winnie-the-Pooh. Pooh +was walking round and round in a circle, thinking of something else, and +when Piglet called to him, he just went on walking. + +"Hallo!" said Piglet, "what are _you_ doing?" + +"Hunting," said Pooh. + +"Hunting what?" + +"Tracking something," said Winnie-the-Pooh very mysteriously. + +"Tracking what?" said Piglet, coming closer. + +"That's just what I ask myself. I ask myself, What?" + +"What do you think you'll answer?" + +"I shall have to wait until I catch up with it," said Winnie-the-Pooh. +"Now, look there." He pointed to the ground in front of him. "What do +you see there?" + +"Tracks," said Piglet. "Paw-marks." He gave a little squeak of +excitement. "Oh, Pooh! Do you think it's a--a--a Woozle?" + +"It may be," said Pooh. "Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. You +never can tell with paw-marks." + +With these few words he went on tracking, and Piglet, after watching him +for a minute or two, ran after him. Winnie-the-Pooh had come to a sudden +stop, and was bending over the tracks in a puzzled sort of way. + +"What's the matter?" asked Piglet. + +"It's a very funny thing," said Bear, "but there seem to be +_two_ animals now. This--whatever-it-was--has been joined by +another--whatever-it-is--and the two of them are now proceeding +in company. Would you mind coming with me, Piglet, in case they +turn out to be Hostile Animals?" + +Piglet scratched his ear in a nice sort of way, and said that he had +nothing to do until Friday, and would be delighted to come, in case it +really _was_ a Woozle. + +"You mean, in case it really is two Woozles," said Winnie-the-Pooh, and +Piglet said that anyhow he had nothing to do until Friday. So off they +went together. + +There was a small spinney of larch trees just here, and it seemed as if +the two Woozles, if that is what they were, had been going round this +spinney; so round this spinney went Pooh and Piglet after them; Piglet +passing the time by telling Pooh what his Grandfather Trespassers W had +done to Remove Stiffness after Tracking, and how his Grandfather +Trespassers W had suffered in his later years from Shortness of Breath, +and other matters of interest, and Pooh wondering what a Grandfather was +like, and if perhaps this was Two Grandfathers they were after now, and, +if so, whether he would be allowed to take one home and keep it, and +what Christopher Robin would say. And still the tracks went on in front +of them.... + +Suddenly Winnie-the-Pooh stopped, and pointed excitedly in front of him. +"_Look!_" + +"_What?_" said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he hadn't +been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice more in an +exercising sort of way. + +"The tracks!" said Pooh. "_A third animal has joined the other two!_" + +"Pooh!" cried Piglet. "Do you think it is another Woozle?" + +"No," said Pooh, "because it makes different marks. It is either Two +Woozles and one, as it might be, Wizzle, or Two, as it might be, Wizzles +and one, if so it is, Woozle. Let us continue to follow them." + +So they went on, feeling just a little anxious now, in case the three +animals in front of them were of Hostile Intent. And Piglet wished very +much that his Grandfather T. W. were there, instead of elsewhere, and +Pooh thought how nice it would be if they met Christopher Robin suddenly +but quite accidentally, and only because he liked Christopher Robin so +much. And then, all of a sudden, Winnie-the-Pooh stopped again, and +licked the tip of his nose in a cooling manner, for he was feeling more +hot and anxious than ever in his life before. _There were four animals +in front of them!_ + +"Do you see, Piglet? Look at their tracks! Three, as it were, Woozles, +and one, as it was, Wizzle. _Another Woozle has joined them!_" + +And so it seemed to be. There were the tracks; crossing over each other +here, getting muddled up with each other there; but, quite plainly every +now and then, the tracks of four sets of paws. + +"I _think_," said Piglet, when he had licked the tip of his nose too, +and found that it brought very little comfort, "I _think_ that I have +just remembered something. I have just remembered something that I +forgot to do yesterday and shan't be able to do to-morrow. So I suppose +I really ought to go back and do it now." + +"We'll do it this afternoon, and I'll come with you," said Pooh. + +"It isn't the sort of thing you can do in the afternoon," said Piglet +quickly. "It's a very particular morning thing, that has to be done in +the morning, and, if possible, between the hours of----What would you +say the time was?" + +"About twelve," said Winnie-the-Pooh, looking at the sun. + +"Between, as I was saying, the hours of twelve and twelve five. So, +really, dear old Pooh, if you'll excuse me----_What's that?_" + +Pooh looked up at the sky, and then, as he heard the whistle again, he +looked up into the branches of a big oak-tree, and then he saw a friend +of his. + +"It's Christopher Robin," he said. + +"Ah, then you'll be all right," said Piglet. "You'll be quite safe with +_him_. Good-bye," and he trotted off home as quickly as he could, very +glad to be Out of All Danger again. + +Christopher Robin came slowly down his tree. + +"Silly old Bear," he said, "what _were_ you doing? First you went round +the spinney twice by yourself, and then Piglet ran after you and you +went round again together, and then you were just going round a fourth +time----" + +"Wait a moment," said Winnie-the-Pooh, holding up his paw. + +He sat down and thought, in the most thoughtful way he could think. Then +he fitted his paw into one of the Tracks ... and then he scratched his +nose twice, and stood up. + +"Yes," said Winnie-the-Pooh. + +"I see now," said Winnie-the-Pooh. + +"I have been Foolish and Deluded," said he, "and I am a Bear of No Brain +at All." + +"You're the Best Bear in All the World," said Christopher Robin +soothingly. + +"Am I?" said Pooh hopefully. And then he brightened up suddenly. + +"Anyhow," he said, "it is nearly Luncheon Time." + +So he went home for it. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + IN WHICH EEYORE LOSES A TAIL + AND POOH FINDS ONE + + +The Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of +the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought +about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and +sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch +as which?"--and sometimes he didn't quite know what he _was_ thinking +about. So when Winnie-the-Pooh came stumping along, Eeyore was very glad +to be able to stop thinking for a little, in order to say "How do you +do?" in a gloomy manner to him. + +"And how are you?" said Winnie-the-Pooh. + +Eeyore shook his head from side to side. + +"Not very how," he said. "I don't seem to have felt at all how for a +long time." + +"Dear, dear," said Pooh, "I'm sorry about that. Let's have a look at +you." + +So Eeyore stood there, gazing sadly at the ground, and Winnie-the-Pooh +walked all round him once. + +"Why, what's happened to your tail?" he said in surprise. + +"What _has_ happened to it?" said Eeyore. + +"It isn't there!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"Well, either a tail _is_ there or it isn't there. You can't make a +mistake about it. And yours _isn't_ there!" + +"Then what is?" + +"Nothing." + +"Let's have a look," said Eeyore, and he turned slowly round to the +place where his tail had been a little while ago, and then, finding that +he couldn't catch it up, he turned round the other way, until he came +back to where he was at first, and then he put his head down and looked +between his front legs, and at last he said, with a long, sad sigh, "I +believe you're right." + +"Of course I'm right," said Pooh. + +"That Accounts for a Good Deal," said Eeyore gloomily. "It Explains +Everything. No Wonder." + +"You must have left it somewhere," said Winnie-the-Pooh. + +"Somebody must have taken it," said Eeyore. "How Like Them," he added, +after a long silence. + +Pooh felt that he ought to say something helpful about it, but didn't +quite know what. So he decided to do something helpful instead. + +"Eeyore," he said solemnly, "I, Winnie-the-Pooh, will find your tail for +you." + +"Thank you, Pooh," answered Eeyore. "You're a real friend," said he. +"Not like Some," he said. + +So Winnie-the-Pooh went off to find Eeyore's tail. + +It was a fine spring morning in the forest as he started out. Little +soft clouds played happily in a blue sky, skipping from time to time in +front of the sun as if they had come to put it out, and then sliding +away suddenly so that the next might have his turn. Through them and +between them the sun shone bravely; and a copse which had worn its firs +all the year round seemed old and dowdy now beside the new green lace +which the beeches had put on so prettily. Through copse and spinney +marched Bear; down open slopes of gorse and heather, over rocky beds of +streams, up steep banks of sandstone into the heather again; and so at +last, tired and hungry, to the Hundred Acre Wood. For it was in the +Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived. + +"And if anyone knows anything about anything," said Bear to himself, +"it's Owl who knows something about something," he said, "or my name's +not Winnie-the-Pooh," he said. "Which it is," he added. "So there you +are." + +Owl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which +was grander than anybody else's, or seemed so to Bear, because it had +both a knocker _and_ a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a +notice which said: + + PLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD. + +Underneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said: + + PLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID. + +These notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only +one in the forest who could spell; for Owl, wise though he was in many +ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow +went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTEREDTOAST. + +Winnie-the-Pooh read the two notices very carefully, first from left to +right, and afterwards, in case he had missed some of it, from right to +left. Then, to make quite sure, he knocked and pulled the knocker, and +he pulled and knocked the bell-rope, and he called out in a very loud +voice, "Owl! I require an answer! It's Bear speaking." And the door +opened, and Owl looked out. + +"Hallo, Pooh," he said. "How's things?" + +"Terrible and Sad," said Pooh, "because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, +has lost his tail. And he's Moping about it. So could you very kindly +tell me how to find it for him?" + +"Well," said Owl, "the customary procedure in such cases is as follows." + +"What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?" said Pooh. "For I am a Bear of +Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me." + +"It means the Thing to Do." + +"As long as it means that, I don't mind," said Pooh humbly. + +"The thing to do is as follows. First, Issue a Reward. Then----" + +"Just a moment," said Pooh, holding up his paw. "_What_ do we do to +this--what you were saying? You sneezed just as you were going to tell +me." + +"I _didn't_ sneeze." + +"Yes, you did, Owl." + +"Excuse me, Pooh, I didn't. You can't sneeze without knowing it." + +"Well, you can't know it without something having been sneezed." + +"What I _said_ was, 'First _Issue_ a Reward'." + +"You're doing it again," said Pooh sadly. + +"A Reward!" said Owl very loudly. "We write a notice to say that we will +give a large something to anybody who finds Eeyore's tail." + +"I see, I see," said Pooh, nodding his head. "Talking about large +somethings," he went on dreamily, "I generally have a small something +about now--about this time in the morning," and he looked wistfully at +the cupboard in the corner of Owl's parlour; "just a mouthful of +condensed milk or whatnot, with perhaps a lick of honey----" + +"Well, then," said Owl, "we write out this notice, and we put it up all +over the forest." + +"A lick of honey," murmured Bear to himself, "or--or not, as the case +may be." And he gave a deep sigh, and tried very hard to listen to what +Owl was saying. + +But Owl went on and on, using longer and longer words, until at last he +came back to where he started, and he explained that the person to write +out this notice was Christopher Robin. + +"It was he who wrote the ones on my front door for me. Did you see them, +Pooh?" + +For some time now Pooh had been saying "Yes" and "No" in turn, with his +eyes shut, to all that Owl was saying, and having said, "Yes, yes," last +time, he said "No, not at all," now, without really knowing what Owl was +talking about. + +"Didn't you see them?" said Owl, a little surprised. "Come and look at +them now." + +So they went outside. And Pooh looked at the knocker and the notice +below it, and he looked at the bell-rope and the notice below it, and +the more he looked at the bell-rope, the more he felt that he had seen +something like it, somewhere else, sometime before. + +"Handsome bell-rope, isn't it?" said Owl. + +Pooh nodded. + +"It reminds me of something," he said, "but I can't think what. Where +did you get it?" + +"I just came across it in the Forest. It was hanging over a bush, and I +thought at first somebody lived there, so I rang it, and nothing +happened, and then I rang it again very loudly, and it came off in my +hand, and as nobody seemed to want it, I took it home, and----" + +"Owl," said Pooh solemnly, "you made a mistake. Somebody did want it." + +"Who?" + +"Eeyore. My dear friend Eeyore. He was--he was fond of it." + +"Fond of it?" + +"Attached to it," said Winnie-the-Pooh sadly. + + * * * * * + +So with these words he unhooked it, and carried it back to Eeyore; and +when Christopher Robin had nailed it on in its right place again, Eeyore +frisked about the forest, waving his tail so happily that +Winnie-the-Pooh came over all funny, and had to hurry home for a little +snack of something to sustain him. And, wiping his mouth half an hour +afterwards, he sang to himself proudly: + + _Who found the Tail?_ + "I," said Pooh, + "At a quarter to two + (Only it was quarter to eleven really), + _I_ found the Tail!" + + + + + CHAPTER V + + IN WHICH PIGLET MEETS A HEFFALUMP + + +One day, when Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet were +all talking together, Christopher Robin finished the mouthful he was +eating and said carelessly: "I saw a Heffalump to-day, Piglet." + +"What was it doing?" asked Piglet. + +"Just lumping along," said Christopher Robin. "I don't think it saw +_me_." + +"I saw one once," said Piglet. "At least, I think I did," he said. "Only +perhaps it wasn't." + +"So did I," said Pooh, wondering what a Heffalump was like. + +"You don't often see them," said Christopher Robin carelessly. + +"Not now," said Piglet. + +"Not at this time of year," said Pooh. + +Then they all talked about something else, until it was time for Pooh +and Piglet to go home together. At first as they stumped along the path +which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn't say much to each other; +but when they came to the stream and had helped each other across the +stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the +heather, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and +Piglet said, "If you see what I mean, Pooh," and Pooh said, "It's just +what I think myself, Piglet," and Piglet said, "But, on the other hand, +Pooh, we must remember," and Pooh said, "Quite true, Piglet, although I +had forgotten it for the moment." And then, just as they came to the Six +Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and +said in a very solemn voice: + +"Piglet, I have decided something." + +"What have you decided, Pooh?" + +"I have decided to catch a Heffalump." + +Pooh nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for +Piglet to say "How?" or "Pooh, you couldn't!" or something helpful of +that sort, but Piglet said nothing. The fact was Piglet was wishing that +_he_ had thought about it first. + +"I shall do it," said Pooh, after waiting a little longer, "by means of +a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, +Piglet." + +"Pooh," said Piglet, feeling quite happy again now, "I will." And then +he said, "How shall we do it?" and Pooh said, "That's just it. How?" And +then they sat down together to think it out. + +Pooh's first idea was that they should dig a Very Deep Pit, and then the +Heffalump would come along and fall into the Pit, and---- + +"Why?" said Piglet. + +"Why what?" said Pooh. + +"Why would he fall in?" + +Pooh rubbed his nose with his paw, and said that the Heffalump might be +walking along, humming a little song, and looking up at the sky, +wondering if it would rain, and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit +until he was half-way down, when it would be too late. + +Piglet said that this was a very good Trap, but supposing it were +raining already? + +Pooh rubbed his nose again, and said that he hadn't thought of that. And +then he brightened up, and said that, if it were raining already, the +Heffalump would be looking at the sky wondering if it would _clear up_, +and so he wouldn't see the Very Deep Pit until he was half-way +down.... When it would be too late. + +Piglet said that, now that this point had been explained, he thought it +was a Cunning Trap. + +Pooh was very proud when he heard this, and he felt that the Heffalump +was as good as caught already, but there was just one other thing which +had to be thought about, and it was this. _Where should they dig the +Very Deep Pit?_ + +Piglet said that the best place would be somewhere where a Heffalump +was, just before he fell into it, only about a foot farther on. + +"But then he would see us digging it," said Pooh. + +"Not if he was looking at the sky." + +"He would Suspect," said Pooh, "if he happened to look down." He thought +for a long time and then added sadly, "It isn't as easy as I thought. I +suppose that's why Heffalumps hardly _ever_ get caught." + +"That must be it," said Piglet. + +They sighed and got up; and when they had taken a few gorse prickles out +of themselves they sat down again; and all the time Pooh was saying to +himself, "If only I could _think_ of something!" For he felt sure that a +Very Clever Brain could catch a Heffalump if only he knew the right way +to go about it. + +"Suppose," he said to Piglet, "_you_ wanted to catch _me_, how would you +do it?" + +"Well," said Piglet, "I should do it like this. I should make a Trap, +and I should put a Jar of Honey in the Trap, and you would smell it, and +you would go in after it, and----" + +"And I would go in after it," said Pooh excitedly, "only very carefully +so as not to hurt myself, and I would get to the Jar of Honey, and I +should lick round the edges first of all, pretending that there wasn't +any more, you know, and then I should walk away and think about it a +little, and then I should come back and start licking in the middle of +the jar, and then----" + +"Yes, well never mind about that. There you would be, and there I should +catch you. Now the first thing to think of is, What do Heffalumps like? +I should think acorns, shouldn't you? We'll get a lot of----I say, wake +up, Pooh!" + +Pooh, who had gone into a happy dream, woke up with a start, and said +that Honey was a much more trappy thing than Haycorns. Piglet didn't +think so; and they were just going to argue about it, when Piglet +remembered that, if they put acorns in the Trap, _he_ would have to find +the acorns, but if they put honey, then Pooh would have to give up some +of his own honey, so he said, "All right, honey then," just as Pooh +remembered it too, and was going to say, "All right, haycorns." + +"Honey," said Piglet to himself in a thoughtful way, as if it were now +settled. "_I'll_ dig the pit, while _you_ go and get the honey." + +"Very well," said Pooh, and he stumped off. + +As soon as he got home, he went to the larder; and he stood on a chair, +and took down a very large jar of honey from the top shelf. It had HUNNY +written on it, but, just to make sure, he took off the paper cover and +looked at it, and it _looked_ just like honey. "But you never can tell," +said Pooh. "I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just +this colour." So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. "Yes," he +said, "it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down +to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course," he said, "somebody put +cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a +_little_ further ... just in case ... in case Heffalumps _don't_ +like cheese ... same as me.... Ah!" And he gave a deep sigh. "I +_was_ right. It _is_ honey, right the way down." + +Having made certain of this, he took the jar back to Piglet, and Piglet +looked up from the bottom of his Very Deep Pit, and said, "Got it?" and +Pooh said, "Yes, but it isn't quite a full jar," and he threw it down to +Piglet, and Piglet said, "No, it isn't! Is that all you've got left?" +and Pooh said "Yes." Because it was. So Piglet put the jar at the bottom +of the Pit, and climbed out, and they went off home together. + +"Well, good night, Pooh," said Piglet, when they had got to Pooh's +house. "And we meet at six o'clock to-morrow morning by the Pine Trees, +and see how many Heffalumps we've got in our Trap." + +"Six o'clock, Piglet. And have you got any string?" + +"No. Why do you want string?" + +"To lead them home with." + +"Oh! ... I _think_ Heffalumps come if you whistle." + +"Some do and some don't. You never can tell with Heffalumps. Well, good +night!" + +"Good night!" + +And off Piglet trotted to his house TRESPASSERS W, while Pooh made his +preparations for bed. + +Some hours later, just as the night was beginning to steal away, Pooh +woke up suddenly with a sinking feeling. He had had that sinking feeling +before, and he knew what it meant. _He was hungry._ So he went to the +larder, and he stood on a chair and reached up to the top shelf, and +found--nothing. + +"That's funny," he thought. "I know I had a jar of honey there. A full +jar, full of honey right up to the top, and it had HUNNY written on it, +so that I should know it was honey. That's very funny." And then he +began to wander up and down, wondering where it was and murmuring a +murmur to himself. Like this: + + It's very, very funny, + 'Cos I _know_ I had some honey; + 'Cos it had a label on, + Saying HUNNY. + A goloptious full-up pot too, + And I don't know where it's got to, + No, I don't know where it's gone-- + Well, it's funny. + +He had murmured this to himself three times in a singing sort of way, +when suddenly he remembered. He had put it into the Cunning Trap to +catch the Heffalump. + +"Bother!" said Pooh. "It all comes of trying to be kind to Heffalumps." +And he got back into bed. + +But he couldn't sleep. The more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn't. +He tried Counting Sheep, which is sometimes a good way of getting to +sleep, and, as that was no good, he tried counting Heffalumps. And that +was worse. Because every Heffalump that he counted was making straight +for a pot of Pooh's honey, _and eating it all_. For some minutes he lay +there miserably, but when the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump +was licking its jaws, and saying to itself, "Very good honey this, I +don't know when I've tasted better," Pooh could bear it no longer. He +jumped out of bed, he ran out of the house, and he ran straight to the +Six Pine Trees. + +The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the +Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would +soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked +cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and +Pooh's jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and +no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed +honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready +for it. + +"Bother!" said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. "A Heffalump has +been eating it!" And then he thought a little and said, "Oh, no, _I_ +did. I forgot." + +Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very +bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to +lick.... + +By and by Piglet woke up. As soon as he woke he said to himself, "Oh!" +Then he said bravely, "Yes," and then, still more bravely, "Quite so." +But he didn't feel very brave, for the word which was really jiggeting +about in his brain was "Heffalumps." + +What was a Heffalump like? + +Was it Fierce? + +_Did_ it come when you whistled? And _how_ did it come? + +Was it Fond of Pigs at all? + +If it was Fond of Pigs, did it make any difference _what sort of Pig_? + +Supposing it was Fierce with Pigs, would it make any difference _if the +Pig had a grandfather called TRESPASSERS WILLIAM_? + +He didn't know the answer to any of these questions ... and he was +going to see his first Heffalump in about an hour from now! + +Of course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with +two. But suppose Heffalumps were Very Fierce with Pigs _and_ Bears? +Wouldn't it be better to pretend that he had a headache, and couldn't go +up to the Six Pine Trees this morning? But then suppose that it was a +very fine day, and there was no Heffalump in the trap, here he would be, +in bed all the morning, simply wasting his time for nothing. What should +he do? + +And then he had a Clever Idea. He would go up very quietly to the Six +Pine Trees now, peep very cautiously into the Trap, and see if there +_was_ a Heffalump there. And if there was, he would go back to bed, and +if there wasn't, he wouldn't. + +So off he went. At first he thought that there wouldn't be a Heffalump +in the Trap, and then he thought that there would, and as he got nearer +he was _sure_ that there would, because he could hear it heffalumping +about it like anything. + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!" said Piglet to himself. And he wanted to +run away. But somehow, having got so near, he felt that he must just see +what a Heffalump was like. So he crept to the side of the Trap and +looked in.... + +And all the time Winnie-the-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar +off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. + +"_Bother!_" he said, inside the jar, and "_Oh, help!_" and, mostly, +"_Ow!_" And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn't see +what he was bumping it against, it didn't help him; and he tried to +climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much +of that, he couldn't find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar +and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair ... and +it was at that moment that Piglet looked down. + +"Help, help!" cried Piglet, "a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!" and he +scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, "Help, help, a +Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a +Hoffable Hellerump!" And he didn't stop crying and scampering until he +got to Christopher Robin's house. + +"Whatever's the matter, Piglet?" said Christopher Robin, who was just +getting up. + +"Heff," said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, "a +Heff--a Heff--a Heffalump." + +"Where?" + +"Up there," said Piglet, waving his paw. + +"What did it look like?" + +"Like--like----It had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. +A great enormous thing, like--like nothing. A huge big--well, like a--I +don't know--like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar." + +"Well," said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, "I shall go and +look at it. Come on." + +Piglet wasn't afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they +went.... + +"I can hear it, can't you?" said Piglet anxiously, as they got near. + +"I can hear _something_," said Christopher Robin. + +It was Pooh bumping his head against a tree-root he had found. + +"There!" said Piglet. "Isn't it _awful_?" And he held on tight to +Christopher Robin's hand. + +Suddenly Christopher Robin began to laugh ... and he laughed ... and he +laughed ... and he laughed. And while he was still laughing--_Crash_ +went the Heffalump's head against the tree-root, Smash went the jar, +and out came Pooh's head again.... + +Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed +of himself that he ran straight off home and went to bed with a +headache. But Christopher Robin and Pooh went home to breakfast +together. + +"Oh, Bear!" said Christopher Robin. "How I do love you!" + +"So do I," said Pooh. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + IN WHICH EEYORE HAS A BIRTHDAY + AND GETS TWO PRESENTS + + +Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and +looked at himself in the water. + +"Pathetic," he said. "That's what it is. Pathetic." + +He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed +across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at +himself in the water again. + +"As I thought," he said. "No better from _this_ side. But nobody minds. +Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is." + +There was a crackling noise in the bracken behind him, and out came +Pooh. + +"Good morning, Eeyore," said Pooh. + +"Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it _is_ a good +morning," he said. "Which I doubt," said he. + +"Why, what's the matter?" + +"Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's +all there is to it." + +"Can't all _what_?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose. + +"Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush." + +"Oh!" said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, "What +mulberry bush is that?" + +"Bon-hommy," went on Eeyore gloomily. "French word meaning bonhommy," he +explained. "I'm not complaining, but There It Is." + +Pooh sat down on a large stone, and tried to think this out. It sounded +to him like a riddle, and he was never much good at riddles, being a +Bear of Very Little Brain. So he sang _Cottleston Pie_ instead: + + Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie, + A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly. + Ask me a riddle and I reply: + "_Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie._" + +That was the first verse. When he had finished it, Eeyore didn't +actually say that he didn't like it, so Pooh very kindly sang the second +verse to him: + + Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie, + A fish can't whistle and neither can I. + Ask me a riddle and I reply: + "_Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie_." + +Eeyore still said nothing at all, so Pooh hummed the third verse quietly +to himself: + + Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie, + Why does a chicken, I don't know why. + Ask me a riddle and I reply: + "_Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie_." + +"That's right," said Eeyore. "Sing. Umty-tiddly, umty-too. Here we go +gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself." + +"I am," said Pooh. + +"Some can," said Eeyore. + +"Why, what's the matter?" + +"_Is_ anything the matter?" + +"You seem so sad, Eeyore." + +"Sad? Why should I be sad? It's my birthday. The happiest day of the +year." + +"Your birthday?" said Pooh in great surprise. + +"Of course it is. Can't you see? Look at all the presents I have had." +He waved a foot from side to side. "Look at the birthday cake. Candles +and pink sugar." + +Pooh looked--first to the right and then to the left. + +"Presents?" said Pooh. "Birthday cake?" said Pooh. "_Where?_" + +"Can't you see them?" + +"No," said Pooh. + +"Neither can I," said Eeyore. "Joke," he explained. "Ha ha!" + +Pooh scratched his head, being a little puzzled by all this. + +"But is it really your birthday?" he asked. + +"It is." + +"Oh! Well, Many happy returns of the day, Eeyore." + +"And many happy returns to you, Pooh Bear." + +"But it isn't _my_ birthday." + +"No, it's mine." + +"But you said 'Many happy returns'----" + +"Well, why not? You don't always want to be miserable on my birthday, do +you?" + +"Oh, I see," said Pooh. + +"It's bad enough," said Eeyore, almost breaking down, "being miserable +myself, what with no presents and no cake and no candles, and no proper +notice taken of me at all, but if everybody else is going to be +miserable too----" + +This was too much for Pooh. "Stay there!" he called to Eeyore, as he +turned and hurried back home as quick as he could; for he felt that he +must get poor Eeyore a present of _some_ sort at once, and he could +always think of a proper one afterwards. + +Outside his house he found Piglet, jumping up and down trying to reach +the knocker. + +"Hallo, Piglet," he said. + +"Hallo, Pooh," said Piglet. + +"What are _you_ trying to do?" + +"I was trying to reach the knocker," said Piglet. "I just came +round----" + +"Let me do it for you," said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked +at the door. "I have just seen Eeyore," he began, "and poor Eeyore is in +a Very Sad Condition, because it's his birthday, and nobody has taken +any notice of it, and he's very Gloomy--you know what Eeyore is--and +there he was, and----What a long time whoever lives here is answering +this door." And he knocked again. + +"But Pooh," said Piglet, "it's your own house!" + +"Oh!" said Pooh. "So it is," he said. "Well, let's go in." + +So in they went. The first thing Pooh did was to go to the cupboard to +see if he had quite a small jar of honey left; and he had, so he took it +down. + +"I'm giving this to Eeyore," he explained, "as a present. What are _you_ +going to give?" + +"Couldn't I give it too?" said Piglet. "From both of us?" + +"No," said Pooh. "That would _not_ be a good plan." + +"All right, then, I'll give him a balloon. I've got one left from my +party. I'll go and get it now, shall I?" + +"That, Piglet, is a _very_ good idea. It is just what Eeyore wants to +cheer him up. Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon." + +So off Piglet trotted; and in the other direction went Pooh, with his +jar of honey. + +It was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. He hadn't gone more than +half-way when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. It +began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the +soles of his feet. It was just as if somebody inside him were saying, +"Now then, Pooh, time for a little something." + +"Dear, dear," said Pooh, "I didn't know it was as late as that." So he +sat down and took the top off his jar of honey. "Lucky I brought this +with me," he thought. "Many a bear going out on a warm day like this +would never have thought of bringing a little something with him." And +he began to eat. + +"Now let me see," he thought, as he took his last lick of the inside of +the jar, "where was I going? Ah, yes, Eeyore." He got up slowly. + +And then, suddenly, he remembered. He had eaten Eeyore's birthday +present! + +"_Bother!_" said Pooh. "What _shall_ I do? I _must_ give him +_something_." + +For a little while he couldn't think of anything. Then he thought: +"Well, it's a very nice pot, even if there's no honey in it, and if I +washed it clean, and got somebody to write '_A Happy Birthday_' on it, +Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful." So, as he was +just passing the Hundred Acre Wood, he went inside to call on Owl, who +lived there. + +"Good morning, Owl," he said. + +"Good morning, Pooh," said Owl. + +"Many happy returns of Eeyore's birthday," said Pooh. + +"Oh, is that what it is?" + +"What are you giving him, Owl?" + +"What are _you_ giving him, Pooh?" + +"I'm giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In, and I wanted to ask +you----" + +"Is this it?" said Owl, taking it out of Pooh's paw. + +"Yes, and I wanted to ask you----" + +"Somebody has been keeping honey in it," said Owl. + +"You can keep _anything_ in it," said Pooh earnestly. "It's Very Useful +like that. And I wanted to ask you----" + +"You ought to write '_A Happy Birthday_' on it." + +"_That_ was what I wanted to ask you," said Pooh. "Because my spelling +is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the +wrong places. Would _you_ write 'A Happy Birthday' on it for me?" + +"It's a nice pot," said Owl, looking at it all round. "Couldn't I give +it too? From both of us?" + +"No," said Pooh. "That would _not_ be a good plan. Now I'll just wash it +first, and then you can write on it." + +Well, he washed the pot out, and dried it, while Owl licked the end of +his pencil, and wondered how to spell "birthday." + +"Can you read, Pooh?" he asked a little anxiously. "There's a notice +about knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin +wrote. Could you read it?" + +"Christopher Robin told me what it said, and _then_ I could." + +"Well, I'll tell you what _this_ says, and then you'll be able to." + +So Owl wrote ... and this is what he wrote: + + HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY. + +Pooh looked on admiringly. + +"I'm just saying 'A Happy Birthday'," said Owl carelessly. + +"It's a nice long one," said Pooh, very much impressed by it. + +"Well, _actually_, of course, I'm saying 'A Very Happy Birthday with +love from Pooh.' Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a long +thing like that." + +"Oh, I see," said Pooh. + +While all this was happening, Piglet had gone back to his own house to +get Eeyore's balloon. He held it very tightly against himself, so that +it shouldn't blow away, and he ran as fast as he could so as to get to +Eeyore before Pooh did; for he thought that he would like to be the +first one to give a present, just as if he had thought of it without +being told by anybody. And running along, and thinking how pleased +Eeyore would be, he didn't look where he was going ... and suddenly he +put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on his face. + +BANG!!!???***!!! + +Piglet lay there, wondering what had happened. At first he thought that +the whole world had blown up; and then he thought that perhaps only the +Forest part of it had; and then he thought that perhaps only _he_ had, +and he was now alone in the moon or somewhere, and would never see +Christopher Robin or Pooh or Eeyore again. And then he thought, "Well, +even if I'm in the moon, I needn't be face downwards all the time," so +he got cautiously up and looked about him. + +He was still in the Forest! + +"Well, that's funny," he thought. "I wonder what that bang was. I +couldn't have made such a noise just falling down. And where's my +balloon? And what's that small piece of damp rag doing?" + +It was the balloon! + +"Oh, dear!" said Piglet "Oh, dear, oh, dearie, dearie, dear! Well, it's +too late now. I can't go back, and I haven't another balloon, and +perhaps Eeyore doesn't _like_ balloons so _very_ much." + +So he trotted on, rather sadly now, and down he came to the side of the +stream where Eeyore was, and called out to him. + +"Good morning, Eeyore," shouted Piglet. + +"Good morning, Little Piglet," said Eeyore. "If it _is_ a good morning," +he said. "Which I doubt," said he. "Not that it matters," he said. + +"Many happy returns of the day," said Piglet, having now got closer. + +Eeyore stopped looking at himself in the stream, and turned to stare at +Piglet. + +"Just say that again," he said. + +"Many hap----" + +"Wait a moment." + +Balancing on three legs, he began to bring his fourth leg very +cautiously up to his ear. "I did this yesterday," he explained, as he +fell down for the third time. "It's quite easy. It's so as I can hear +better.... There, that's done it! Now then, what were you saying?" He +pushed his ear forward with his hoof. + +"Many happy returns of the day," said Piglet again. + +"Meaning me?" + +"Of course, Eeyore." + +"My birthday?" + +"Yes." + +"Me having a real birthday?" + +"Yes, Eeyore, and I've brought you a present." + +Eeyore took down his right hoof from his right ear, turned round, and +with great difficulty put up his left hoof. + +"I must have that in the other ear," he said. "Now then." + +"A present," said Piglet very loudly. + +"Meaning me again?" + +"Yes." + +"My birthday still?" + +"Of course, Eeyore." + +"Me going on having a real birthday?" + +"Yes, Eeyore, and I brought you a balloon." + +"_Balloon?_" said Eeyore. "You did say balloon? One of those big +coloured things you blow up? Gaiety, song-and-dance, here we are and +there we are?" + +"Yes, but I'm afraid--I'm very sorry, Eeyore--but when I was running +along to bring it you, I fell down." + +"Dear, dear, how unlucky! You ran too fast, I expect. You didn't hurt +yourself, Little Piglet?" + +"No, but I--I--oh, Eeyore, I burst the balloon!" + +There was a very long silence. + +"My balloon?" said Eeyore at last. + +Piglet nodded. + +"My birthday balloon?" + +"Yes, Eeyore," said Piglet sniffing a little. "Here it is. With--with +many happy returns of the day." And he gave Eeyore the small piece of +damp rag. + +"Is this it?" said Eeyore, a little surprised. + +Piglet nodded. + +"My present?" + +Piglet nodded again. + +"The balloon?" + +"Yes." + +"Thank you, Piglet," said Eeyore. "You don't mind my asking," he went +on, "but what colour was this balloon when it--when it _was_ a balloon?" + +"Red." + +"I just wondered.... Red," he murmured to himself. "My favourite +colour.... How big was it?" + +"About as big as me." + +"I just wondered.... About as big as Piglet," he said to himself +sadly. "My favourite size. Well, well." + +Piglet felt very miserable, and didn't know what to say. He was still +opening his mouth to begin something, and then deciding that it wasn't +any good saying _that_, when he heard a shout from the other side of the +river, and there was Pooh. + +"Many happy returns of the day," called out Pooh, forgetting that he had +said it already. + +"Thank you, Pooh, I'm having them," said Eeyore gloomily. + +"I've brought you a little present," said Pooh excitedly. + +"I've had it," said Eeyore. + +Pooh had now splashed across the stream to Eeyore, and Piglet was +sitting a little way off, his head in his paws, snuffling to himself. + +"It's a Useful Pot," said Pooh. "Here it is. And it's got 'A Very Happy +Birthday with love from Pooh' written on it. That's what all that +writing is. And it's for putting things in. There!" + +When Eeyore saw the pot, he became quite excited. + +"Why!" he said. "I believe my Balloon will just go into that Pot!" + +"Oh, no, Eeyore," said Pooh. "Balloons are much too big to go into Pots. +What you do with a balloon is, you hold the ballon----" + +"Not mine," said Eeyore proudly. "Look, Piglet!" And as Piglet looked +sorrowfully round, Eeyore picked the balloon up with his teeth, and +placed it carefully in the pot; picked it out and put it on the ground; +and then picked it up again and put it carefully back. + +"So it does!" said Pooh. "It goes in!" + +"So it does!" said Piglet. "And it comes out!" + +"Doesn't it?" said Eeyore. "It goes in and out like anything." + +"I'm very glad," said Pooh happily, "that I thought of giving you a +Useful Pot to put things in." + +"I'm very glad," said Piglet happily, "that I thought of giving you +Something to put in a Useful Pot." + +But Eeyore wasn't listening. He was taking the balloon out, and putting +it back again, as happy as could be.... + + * * * * * + +"And didn't _I_ give him anything?" asked Christopher Robin sadly. + +"Of course you did," I said. "You gave him--don't you remember--a +little--a little----" + +"I gave him a box of paints to paint things with." + +"That was it." + +"Why didn't I give it to him in the morning?" + +"You were so busy getting his party ready for him. He had a cake with +icing on the top, and three candles, and his name in pink sugar, +and----" + +"Yes, _I_ remember," said Christopher Robin. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + IN WHICH KANGA AND BABY ROO COME + TO THE FOREST, AND PIGLET HAS A BATH + + +Nobody seemed to know where they came from, but there they were in the +Forest: Kanga and Baby Roo. When Pooh asked Christopher Robin, "How did +they come here?" Christopher Robin said, "In the Usual Way, if you know +what I mean, Pooh," and Pooh, who didn't, said "Oh!" Then he nodded his +head twice and said, "In the Usual Way. Ah!" Then he went to call upon +his friend Piglet to see what _he_ thought about it. And at Piglet's +house he found Rabbit. So they all talked about it together. + +"What I don't like about it is this," said Rabbit. "Here are we--you, +Pooh, and you, Piglet, and Me--and suddenly----" + +"And Eeyore," said Pooh. + +"And Eeyore--and then suddenly----" + +"And Owl," said Pooh. + +"And Owl--and then all of a sudden----" + +"Oh, and Eeyore," said Pooh. "I was forgetting _him_." + +"Here--we--are," said Rabbit very slowly and carefully, "all--of--us, +and then, suddenly, we wake up one morning and, what do we find? We find +a Strange Animal among us. An animal of whom we have never even heard +before! An animal who carries her family about with her in her pocket! +Suppose _I_ carried _my_ family about with me in _my_ pocket, how many +pockets should I want?" + +"Sixteen," said Piglet. + +"Seventeen, isn't it?" said Rabbit. "And one more for a +handkerchief--that's eighteen. Eighteen pockets in one suit! I haven't +time." + +There was a long and thoughtful silence ... and then Pooh, who had +been frowning very hard for some minutes, said: "_I_ make it fifteen." + +"What?" said Rabbit. + +"Fifteen." + +"Fifteen what?" + +"Your family." + +"What about them?" + +Pooh rubbed his nose and said that he thought Rabbit had been talking +about his family. + +"Did I?" said Rabbit carelessly. + +"Yes, you said----" + +"Never mind, Pooh," said Piglet impatiently. + +"The question is, What are we to do about Kanga?" + +"Oh, I see," said Pooh. + +"The best way," said Rabbit, "would be this. The best way would be to +steal Baby Roo and hide him, and then when Kanga says, 'Where's Baby +Roo?' we say, '_Aha!_'" + +"_Aha!_" said Pooh, practising. "_Aha! Aha!_ ... Of course," he went +on, "we could say 'Aha!' even if we hadn't stolen Baby Roo." + +"Pooh," said Rabbit kindly, "you haven't any brain." + +"I know," said Pooh humbly. + +"We say '_Aha!_' so that Kanga knows that _we_ know where Baby Roo is. +'_Aha!_' means 'We'll tell you where Baby Roo is, if you promise to go +away from the Forest and never come back.' Now don't talk while I +think." + +Pooh went into a corner and tried saying 'Aha!' in that sort of voice. +Sometimes it seemed to him that it did mean what Rabbit said, and +sometimes it seemed to him that it didn't. "I suppose it's just +practice," he thought. "I wonder if Kanga will have to practise too so +as to understand it." + +"There's just one thing," said Piglet, fidgeting a bit. "I was talking +to Christopher Robin, and he said that a Kanga was Generally Regarded as +One of the Fiercer Animals. I am not frightened of Fierce Animals in the +ordinary way, but it is well known that, if One of the Fiercer Animals +is Deprived of Its Young, it becomes as fierce as Two of the Fiercer +Animals. In which case '_Aha!_' is perhaps a _foolish_ thing to say." + +"Piglet," said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, +"you haven't any pluck." + +"It is hard to be brave," said Piglet, sniffing slightly, "when you're +only a Very Small Animal." + +Rabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said: + +"It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in +the adventure before us." + +Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful, that he forgot to be +frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were +only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an +Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to +begin being useful at once. + +"What about me?" said Pooh sadly. "I suppose _I_ shan't be useful?" + +"Never mind, Pooh," said Piglet comfortingly. "Another time perhaps." + +"Without Pooh," said Rabbit solemnly as he sharpened his pencil, "the +adventure would be impossible." + +"Oh!" said Piglet, and tried not to look disappointed. But Pooh went +into a corner of the room and said proudly to himself, "Impossible +without Me! _That_ sort of Bear." + +"Now listen all of you," said Rabbit when he had finished writing, and +Pooh and Piglet sat listening very eagerly with their mouths open. This +was what Rabbit read out: + + PLAN TO CAPTURE BABY ROO + + 1. _General Remarks._ Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me. + + 2. _More General Remarks._ Kanga never takes her eye off Baby Roo, + except when he's safely buttoned up in her pocket. + + 3. _Therefore._ If we are to capture Baby Roo, we must get a Long + Start, because Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me. + (_See_ 1.) + + 4. _A Thought._ If Roo had jumped out of Kanga's pocket and Piglet + had jumped in, Kanga wouldn't know the difference, because Piglet + is a Very Small Animal. + + 5. Like Roo. + + 6. But Kanga would have to be looking the other way first, so as not + to see Piglet jumping in. + + 7. See 2. + + 8. _Another Thought._ But if Pooh was talking to her very excitedly, + she _might_ look the other way for a moment. + + 9. And then I could run away with Roo. + + 10. Quickly. + + 11. _And Kanga wouldn't discover the difference until Afterwards._ + +Well, Rabbit read this out proudly, and for a little while after he had +read it nobody said anything. And then Piglet, who had been opening and +shutting his mouth without making any noise, managed to say very +huskily: + +"And--Afterwards?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"When Kanga _does_ Discover the Difference?" + +"Then we all say '_Aha!_'" + +"All three of us?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh!" + +"Why, what's the trouble, Piglet?" + +"Nothing," said Piglet, "as long as _we all three_ say it. As long as we +all three say it," said Piglet, "I don't mind," he said, "but I +shouldn't care to say '_Aha!_' by myself. It wouldn't sound _nearly_ so +well. By the way," he said, "you _are_ quite sure about what you said +about the winter months?" + +"The winter months?" + +"Yes, only being Fierce in the Winter Months." + +"Oh, yes, yes, that's all right. Well, Pooh? You see what you have to +do?" + +"No," said Pooh Bear. "Not yet," he said. "What _do_ I do?" + +"Well, you just have to talk very hard to Kanga so as she doesn't notice +anything." + +"Oh! What about?" + +"Anything you like." + +"You mean like telling her a little bit of poetry or something?" + +"That's it," said Rabbit. "Splendid. Now come along." + +So they all went out to look for Kanga. + +Kanga and Roo were spending a quiet afternoon in a sandy part of the +Forest. Baby Roo was practising very small jumps in the sand, and +falling down mouse-holes and climbing out of them, and Kanga was +fidgeting about and saying "Just one more jump, dear, and then we must +go home." And at that moment who should come stumping up the hill but +Pooh. + +"Good afternoon, Kanga." + +"Good afternoon, Pooh." + +"Look at me jumping," squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole. + +"Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!" + +"We were just going home," said Kanga. "Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good +afternoon, Piglet." + +Rabbit and Piglet, who had now come up from the other side of the hill, +said "Good afternoon," and "Hallo, Roo," and Roo asked them to look at +him jumping, so they stayed and looked. + +And Kanga looked too.... + +"Oh, Kanga," said Pooh, after Rabbit had winked at him twice, "I don't +know if you are interested in Poetry at all?" + +"Hardly at all," said Kanga. + +"Oh!" said Pooh. + +"Roo, dear, just one more jump and then we must go home." + +There was a short silence while Roo fell down another mouse-hole. + +"Go on," said Rabbit in a loud whisper behind his paw. + +"Talking of Poetry," said Pooh, "I made up a little piece as I was +coming along. It went like this. Er--now let me see----" + +"Fancy!" said Kanga. "Now Roo, dear----" + +"You'll like this piece of poetry," said Rabbit. + +"You'll love it," said Piglet. + +"You must listen very carefully," said Rabbit. + +"So as not to miss any of it," said Piglet. + +"Oh, yes," said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo. + +"_How_ did it go, Pooh?" said Rabbit. + +Pooh gave a little cough and began. + + LINES WRITTEN BY A BEAR OF VERY LITTLE BRAIN + + On Monday, when the sun is hot + I wonder to myself a lot: + "Now is it true, or is it not, + "That what is which and which is what?" + + On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, + The feeling on me grows and grows + That hardly anybody knows + If those are these or these are those. + + On Wednesday, when the sky is blue, + And I have nothing else to do, + I sometimes wonder if it's true + That who is what and what is who. + + On Thursday, when it starts to freeze + And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees, + How very readily one sees + That these are whose--but whose are these? + + On Friday---- + +"Yes, it is, isn't it?" said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on +Friday. "Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really _must_ be +going." + +Rabbit gave Pooh a hurrying-up sort of nudge. + +"Talking of Poetry," said Pooh quickly, "have you ever noticed that tree +right over there?" + +"Where?" said Kanga. "Now, Roo----" + +"Right over there," said Pooh, pointing behind Kanga's back. + +"No," said Kanga. "Now jump in, Roo, dear, and we'll go home." + +"You ought to look at that tree right over there," said Rabbit. "Shall I +lift you in, Roo?" And he picked up Roo in his paws. + +"I can see a bird in it from here," said Pooh. "Or is it a fish?" + +"You ought to see that bird from here," said Rabbit. "Unless it's a +fish." + +"It isn't a fish, it's a bird," said Piglet. + +"So it is," said Rabbit. + +"Is it a starling or a blackbird?" said Pooh. + +"That's the whole question," said Rabbit. "Is it a blackbird or a +starling?" + +And then at last Kanga did turn her head to look. And the moment that +her head was turned, Rabbit said in a loud voice "In you go, Roo!" and +in jumped Piglet into Kanga's pocket, and off scampered Rabbit, with Roo +in his paws, as fast as he could. + +"Why, where's Rabbit?" said Kanga, turning round again. "Are you all +right, Roo, dear?" + +Piglet made a squeaky Roo-noise from the bottom of Kanga's pocket. + +"Rabbit had to go away," said Pooh. "I think he thought of something he +had to go and see about suddenly." + +"And Piglet?" + +"I think Piglet thought of something at the same time. Suddenly." + +"Well, we must be getting home," said Kanga. "Good-bye, Pooh." And in +three large jumps she was gone. + +Pooh looked after her as she went. + +"I wish I could jump like that," he thought. "Some can and some can't. +That's how it is." + +But there were moments when Piglet wished that Kanga couldn't. Often, +when he had had a long walk home through the Forest, he had wished that +he were a bird; but now he thought jerkily to himself at the bottom of +Kanga's pocket, + + this take + "If is shall really to + flying I never it." + +And as he went up in the air he said, "_Ooooooo!_" and as he came down +he said, "_Ow!_" And he was saying, "_Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow, +Ooooooo-ow_" all the way to Kanga's house. + +Of course as soon as Kanga unbuttoned her pocket, she saw what had +happened. Just for a moment, she thought she was frightened, and then +she knew she wasn't; for she felt quite sure that Christopher Robin +would never let any harm happen to Roo. So she said to herself, "If they +are having a joke with me, I will have a joke with them." + +"Now then, Roo, dear," she said, as she took Piglet out of her pocket. +"Bed-time." + +"_Aha!_" said Piglet, as well as he could after his Terrifying Journey. +But it wasn't a very good "_Aha!_" and Kanga didn't seem to understand +what it meant. + +"Bath first," said Kanga in a cheerful voice. + +"_Aha!_" said Piglet again, looking round anxiously for the others. But +the others weren't there. Rabbit was playing with Baby Roo in his own +house, and feeling more fond of him every minute, and Pooh, who had +decided to be a Kanga, was still at the sandy place on the top of the +Forest, practising jumps. + +"I am not at all sure," said Kanga in a thoughtful voice, "that it +wouldn't be a good idea to have a _cold_ bath this evening. Would you +like that, Roo, dear?" + +Piglet, who had never been really fond of baths, shuddered a long +indignant shudder, and said in as brave a voice as he could: + +"Kanga, I see that the time has come to spleak painly." + +"Funny little Roo," said Kanga, as she got the bath-water ready. + +"I am _not_ Roo," said Piglet loudly. "I am Piglet!" + +"Yes, dear, yes," said Kanga soothingly. "And imitating Piglet's voice +too! So clever of him," she went on, as she took a large bar of yellow +soap out of the cupboard. "What _will_ he be doing next?" + +"Can't you _see_?" shouted Piglet. "Haven't you got _eyes_? _Look_ at +me!" + +"I _am_ looking, Roo, dear," said Kanga rather severely. "And you know +what I told you yesterday about making faces. If you go on making faces +like Piglet's, you will grow up to _look_ like Piglet--and _then_ think +how sorry you will be. Now then, into the bath, and don't let me have to +speak to you about it again." + +Before he knew where he was, Piglet was in the bath, and Kanga was +scrubbing him firmly with a large lathery flannel. + +"Ow!" cried Piglet. "Let me out! I'm Piglet!" + +"Don't open the mouth, dear, or the soap goes in," said Kanga. "There! +What did I tell you?" + +"You--you--you did it on purpose," spluttered Piglet, as soon as he +could speak again ... and then accidentally had another mouthful of +lathery flannel. + +"That's right, dear, don't say anything," said Kanga, and in another +minute Piglet was out of the bath, and being rubbed dry with a towel. + +"Now," said Kanga, "there's your medicine, and then bed." + +"W-w-what medicine?" said Piglet. + +"To make you grow big and strong, dear. You don't want to grow up small +and weak like Piglet, do you? Well, then!" + +At that moment there was a knock at the door. + +"Come in," said Kanga, and in came Christopher Robin. + +"Christopher Robin, Christopher Robin!" cried Piglet. "Tell Kanga who I +am! She keeps saying I'm Roo. I'm _not_ Roo, am I?" + +Christopher Robin looked at him very carefully, and shook his head. + +"You can't be Roo," he said, "because I've just seen Roo playing in +Rabbit's house." + +"Well!" said Kanga. "Fancy that! Fancy my making a mistake like that." + +"There you are!" said Piglet. "I told you so. I'm Piglet." + +Christopher Robin shook his head again. + +"Oh, you're not Piglet," he said. "I know Piglet well, and he's _quite_ +a different colour." + +Piglet began to say that this was because he had just had a bath, and +then he thought that perhaps he wouldn't say that, and as he opened his +mouth to say something else, Kanga slipped the medicine spoon in, and +then patted him on the back and told him that it was really quite a nice +taste when you got used to it. + +"I knew it wasn't Piglet," said Kanga. "I wonder who it can be." + +"Perhaps it's some relation of Pooh's," said Christopher Robin. "What +about a nephew or an uncle or something?" + +Kanga agreed that this was probably what it was, and said that they +would have to call it by some name. + +"I shall call it Pootel," said Christopher Robin. "Henry Pootel for +short." + +And just when it was decided, Henry Pootel wriggled out of Kanga's arms +and jumped to the ground. To his great joy Christopher Robin had left +the door open. Never had Henry Pootel Piglet run so fast as he ran then, +and he didn't stop running until he had got quite close to his house. +But when he was a hundred yards away he stopped running, and rolled the +rest of the way home, so as to get his own nice comfortable colour +again.... + +So Kanga and Roo stayed in the Forest. And every Tuesday Roo spent the +day with his great friend Rabbit, and every Tuesday Kanga spent the day +with her great friend Pooh, teaching him to jump, and every Tuesday +Piglet spent the day with his great friend Christopher Robin. So they +were all happy again. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + IN WHICH CHRISTOPHER ROBIN LEADS + AN EXPOTITION TO THE NORTH POLE + + +One fine day Pooh had stumped up to the top of the Forest to see if +his friend Christopher Robin was interested in Bears at all. At +breakfast that morning (a simple meal of marmalade spread lightly over a +honeycomb or two) he had suddenly thought of a new song. It began like +this: + + "_Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear._" + +When he had got as far as this, he scratched his head, and thought to +himself "That's a very good start for a song, but what about the second +line?" He tried singing "Ho," two or three times, but it didn't seem to +help. "Perhaps it would be better," he thought, "if I sang Hi for the +life of a Bear." So he sang it ... but it wasn't. "Very well, then," +he said, "I shall sing that first line twice, and perhaps if I sing it +very quickly, I shall find myself singing the third and fourth lines +before I have time to think of them, and that will be a Good Song. Now +then:" + + Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear! + Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear! + I don't much mind if it rains or snows, + 'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice new nose, + I don't much care if it snows or thaws, + 'Cos I've got a lot of honey on my nice clean paws! + Sing Ho! for a Bear! + Sing Ho! for a Pooh! + And I'll have a little something in an hour or two! + +He was so pleased with this song that he sang it all the way to the top +of the Forest, "and if I go on singing it much longer," he thought, "it +will be time for the little something, and then the last line won't be +true." So he turned it into a hum instead. + +Christopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big +Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was +going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of +his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready +for Anything. + +"Good-morning, Christopher Robin," he called out. + +"Hallo, Pooh Bear. I can't get this boot on." + +"That's bad," said Pooh. + +"Do you think you could very kindly lean against me, 'cos I keep pulling +so hard that I fall over backwards." + +Pooh sat down, dug his feet into the ground, and pushed hard against +Christopher Robin's back, and Christopher Robin pushed hard against his, +and pulled and pulled at his boot until he had got it on. + +"And that's that," said Pooh. "What do we do next?" + +"We are all going on an Expedition," said Christopher Robin, as he got +up and brushed himself. "Thank you, Pooh." + +"Going on an Expotition?" said Pooh eagerly. "I don't think I've ever +been on one of those. Where are we going to on this Expotition?" + +"Expedition, silly old Bear. It's got an 'x' in it." + +"Oh!" said Pooh. "I know." But he didn't really. + +"We're going to discover the North Pole." + +"Oh!" said Pooh again. "What _is_ the North Pole?" he asked. + +"It's just a thing you discover," said Christopher Robin carelessly, not +being quite sure himself. + +"Oh! I see," said Pooh. "Are bears any good at discovering it?" + +"Of course they are. And Rabbit and Kanga and all of you. It's an +Expedition. That's what an Expedition means. A long line of everybody. +You'd better tell the others to get ready, while I see if my gun's all +right. And we must all bring Provisions." + +"Bring what?" + +"Things to eat." + +"Oh!" said Pooh happily. "I thought you said Provisions. I'll go and +tell them." And he stumped off. + +The first person he met was Rabbit. + +"Hallo, Rabbit," he said, "is that you?" + +"Let's pretend it isn't," said Rabbit, "and see what happens." + +"I've got a message for you." + +"I'll give it to him." + +"We're all going on an Expotition with Christopher Robin!" + +"What is it when we're on it?" + +"A sort of boat, I think," said Pooh. + +"Oh! that sort." + +"Yes. And we're going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? +Anyhow we're going to discover it." + +"We are, are we?" said Rabbit. + +"Yes. And we've got to bring Pro--things to eat with us. In case we want +to eat them. Now I'm going down to Piglet's. Tell Kanga, will you?" + +He left Rabbit and hurried down to Piglet's house. The Piglet was +sitting on the ground at the door of his house blowing happily at a +dandelion, and wondering whether it would be this year, next year, +sometime or never. He had just discovered that it would be never, and +was trying to remember what "_it_" was, and hoping it wasn't anything +nice, when Pooh came up. + +"Oh! Piglet," said Pooh excitedly, "we're going on an Expotition, all of +us, with things to eat. To discover something." + +"To discover what?" said Piglet anxiously. + +"Oh! just something." + +"Nothing fierce?" + +"Christopher Robin didn't say anything about fierce. He just said it had +an 'x'." + +"It isn't their necks I mind," said Piglet earnestly. "It's their teeth. +But if Christopher Robin is coming I don't mind anything." + +In a little while they were all ready at the top of the Forest, and the +Expotition started. First came Christopher Robin and Rabbit, then Piglet +and Pooh; then Kanga, with Roo in her pocket, and Owl; then Eeyore; and, +at the end, in a long line, all Rabbit's friends-and-relations. + +"I didn't ask them," explained Rabbit carelessly. "They just came. They +always do. They can march at the end, after Eeyore." + +"What I say," said Eeyore, "is that it's unsettling. I didn't want to +come on this Expo--what Pooh said. I only came to oblige. But here I +am; and if I am the end of the Expo--what we're talking about--then +let me _be_ the end. But if, every time I want to sit down for a +little rest, I have to brush away half a dozen of Rabbit's smaller +friends-and-relations first, then this isn't an Expo--whatever it +is--at all, it's simply a Confused Noise. That's what _I_ say." + +"I see what Eeyore means," said Owl. "If you ask me----" + +"I'm not asking anybody," said Eeyore. "I'm just telling everybody. We +can look for the North Pole, or we can play 'Here we go gathering Nuts +and May' with the end part of an ant's nest. It's all the same to me." + +There was a shout from the top of the line. + +"Come on!" called Christopher Robin. + +"Come on!" called Pooh and Piglet. + +"Come on!" called Owl. + +"We're starting," said Rabbit. "I must go." And he hurried off to the +front of the Expotition with Christopher Robin. + +"All right," said Eeyore. "We're going. Only Don't Blame Me." + +So off they all went to discover the Pole. And as they walked, they +chattered to each other of this and that, all except Pooh, who was +making up a song. + +"This is the first verse," he said to Piglet, when he was ready with it. + +"First verse of what?" + +"My song." + +"What song?" + +"This one." + +"Which one?" + +"Well, if you listen, Piglet, you'll hear it." + +"How do you know I'm not listening?" + +Pooh couldn't answer that one, so he began to sing. + + They all went off to discover the Pole, + Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all; + It's a Thing you Discover, as I've been tole + By Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all. + Eeyore, Christopher Robin and Pooh + And Rabbit's relations all went too-- + And where the Pole was none of them knew.... + Sing Hey! for Owl and Rabbit and all! + +"Hush!" said Christopher Robin turning round to Pooh, "we're just coming +to a Dangerous Place." + +"Hush!" said Pooh turning round quickly to Piglet. + +"Hush!" said Piglet to Kanga. + +"Hush!" said Kanga to Owl, while Roo said "Hush!" several times to +himself very quietly. + +"Hush!" said Owl to Eeyore. + +"_Hush!_" said Eeyore in a terrible voice to all Rabbit's +friends-and-relations, and "Hush!" they said hastily to each other all +down the line, until it got to the last one of all. And the last and +smallest friend-and-relation was so upset to find that the whole +Expotition was saying "Hush!" to _him_, that he buried himself head +downwards in a crack in the ground, and stayed there for two days until +the danger was over, and then went home in a great hurry, and lived +quietly with his Aunt ever-afterwards. His name was Alexander Beetle. + +They had come to a stream which twisted and tumbled between high rocky +banks, and Christopher Robin saw at once how dangerous it was. + +"It's just the place," he explained, "for an Ambush." + +"What sort of bush?" whispered Pooh to Piglet. "A gorse-bush?" + +"My dear Pooh," said Owl in his superior way, "don't you know what an +Ambush is?" + +"Owl," said Piglet, looking round at him severely, "Pooh's whisper was a +perfectly private whisper, and there was no need----" + +"An Ambush," said Owl, "is a sort of Surprise." + +"So is a gorse-bush sometimes," said Pooh. + +"An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh," said Piglet, "is a sort +of Surprise." + +"If people jump out at you suddenly, that's an Ambush," said Owl. + +"It's an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly," explained +Piglet. + +Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung +at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six +days to get all the prickles out of himself. + +"We are not _talking_ about gorse-bushes," said Owl a little crossly. + +"I am," said Pooh. + +They were climbing very cautiously up the stream now, going from rock to +rock, and after they had gone a little way they came to a place where +the banks widened out at each side, so that on each side of the water +there was a level strip of grass on which they could sit down and rest. +As soon as he saw this, Christopher Robin called "Halt!" and they all +sat down and rested. + +"I think," said Christopher Robin, "that we ought to eat all our +Provisions now, so that we shan't have so much to carry." + +"Eat all our what?" said Pooh. + +"All that we've brought," said Piglet, getting to work. + +"That's a good idea," said Pooh, and he got to work too. + +"Have you all got something?" asked Christopher Robin with his mouth +full. + +"All except me," said Eeyore. "As Usual." He looked round at them in his +melancholy way. "I suppose none of you are sitting on a thistle by any +chance?" + +"I believe I am," said Pooh. "Ow!" He got up, and looked behind him. +"Yes, I was. I thought so." + +"Thank you, Pooh. If you've quite finished with it." He moved across to +Pooh's place, and began to eat. + +"It don't do them any Good, you know, sitting on them," he went on, as +he looked up munching. "Takes all the Life out of them. Remember that +another time, all of you. A little Consideration, a little Thought for +Others, makes all the difference." + +As soon as he had finished his lunch Christopher Robin whispered to +Rabbit, and Rabbit said "Yes, yes, of course," and they walked a little +way up the stream together. + +"I didn't want the others to hear," said Christopher Robin. + +"Quite so," said Rabbit, looking important. + +"It's--I wondered--It's only--Rabbit, I suppose _you_ don't know, What +does the North Pole _look_ like?" + +"Well," said Rabbit, stroking his whiskers. "Now you're asking me." + +"I did know once, only I've sort of forgotten," said Christopher Robin +carelessly. + +"It's a funny thing," said Rabbit, "but I've sort of forgotten too, +although I did know _once_." + +"I suppose it's just a pole stuck in the ground?" + +"Sure to be a pole," said Rabbit, "because of calling it a pole, and if +it's a pole, well, I should think it would be sticking in the ground, +shouldn't you, because there'd be nowhere else to stick it." + +"Yes, that's what I thought." + +"The only thing," said Rabbit, "is, _where is it sticking_?" + +"That's what we're looking for," said Christopher Robin. + +They went back to the others. Piglet was lying on his back, sleeping +peacefully. Roo was washing his face and paws in the stream, while Kanga +explained to everybody proudly that this was the first time he had ever +washed his face himself, and Owl was telling Kanga an Interesting +Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopædia and Rhododendron to which +Kanga wasn't listening. + +"I don't hold with all this washing," grumbled Eeyore. "This modern +Behind-the-ears nonsense. What do _you_ think, Pooh?" + +"Well," said Pooh, "_I_ think----" + +But we shall never know what Pooh thought, for there came a sudden +squeak from Roo, a splash, and a loud cry of alarm from Kanga. + +"So much for _washing_," said Eeyore. + +"Roo's fallen in!" cried Rabbit, and he and Christopher Robin came +rushing down to the rescue. + +"Look at me swimming!" squeaked Roo from the middle of his pool, and was +hurried down a waterfall into the next pool. + +"Are you all right, Roo dear?" called Kanga anxiously. + +"Yes!" said Roo. "Look at me sw----" and down he went over the next +waterfall into another pool. + +Everybody was doing something to help. Piglet, wide awake suddenly, was +jumping up and down and making "Oo, I say" noises; Owl was explaining +that in a case of Sudden and Temporary Immersion the Important Thing was +to keep the Head Above Water; Kanga was jumping along the bank, saying +"Are you _sure_ you're all right, Roo dear?" to which Roo, from whatever +pool he was in at the moment, was answering "Look at me swimming!" +Eeyore had turned round and hung his tail over the first pool into which +Roo fell, and with his back to the accident was grumbling quietly to +himself, and saying, "All this washing; but catch on to my tail, little +Roo, and you'll be all right"; and, Christopher Robin and Rabbit came +hurrying past Eeyore, and were calling out to the others in front of +them. + +"All right, Roo, I'm coming," called Christopher Robin. + +"Get something across the stream lower down, some of you fellows," +called Rabbit. + +But Pooh was getting something. Two pools below Roo he was standing with +a long pole in his paws, and Kanga came up and took one end of it, and +between them they held it across the lower part of the pool; and Roo, +still bubbling proudly, "Look at me swimming," drifted up against it, +and climbed out. + +"Did you see me swimming?" squeaked Roo excitedly, while Kanga scolded +him and rubbed him down. "Pooh, did you see me swimming? That's called +swimming, what I was doing. Rabbit, did you see what I was doing? +Swimming. Hallo, Piglet! I say, Piglet! What do you think I was doing! +Swimming! Christopher Robin, did you see me----" + +But Christopher Robin wasn't listening. He was looking at Pooh. + +"Pooh," he said, "where did you find that pole?" + +Pooh looked at the pole in his hands. + +"I just found it," he said. "I thought it ought to be useful. I just +picked it up." + +"Pooh," said Christopher Robin solemnly, "the Expedition is over. You +have found the North Pole!" + +"Oh!" said Pooh. + +Eeyore was sitting with his tail in the water when they all got back to +him. + +"Tell Roo to be quick, somebody," he said. "My tail's getting cold. I +don't want to mention it, but I just mention it. I don't want to +complain but there it is. My tail's cold." + +"Here I am!" squeaked Roo. + +"Oh, there you are." + +"Did you see me swimming?" + +Eeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side. + +"As I expected," he said. "Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That's what it's +done. Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it's all +right." + +"Poor old Eeyore. I'll dry it for you," said Christopher Robin, and he +took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up. + +"Thank you, Christopher Robin. You're the only one who seems to +understand about tails. They don't think--that's what the matter with +some of these others. They've no imagination. A tail isn't a tail to +_them_, it's just a Little Bit Extra at the back." + +"Never mind, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. "Is +_that_ better?" + +"It's feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know +what I mean." + +"Hullo, Eeyore," said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole. + +"Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again +in a day or two." + +"Use what?" said Pooh. + +"What we are talking about." + +"I wasn't talking about anything," said Pooh, looking puzzled. + +"My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my +tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?" + +"No," said Pooh. "That wasn't me," he said. He thought for a little and +then suggested helpfully, "Perhaps it was somebody else." + +"Well, thank him for me when you see him." + +Pooh looked anxiously at Christopher Robin. + +"Pooh's found the North Pole," said Christopher Robin. "Isn't that +lovely?" + +Pooh looked modestly down. + +"Is that it?" said Eeyore. + +"Yes," said Christopher Robin. + +"Is that what we were looking for?" + +"Yes," said Pooh. + +"Oh!" said Eeyore. "Well, anyhow--it didn't rain," he said. + +They stuck the pole in the ground, and Christopher Robin tied a message +on to it. + + NORTH POLE + + DISCOVERED BY POOH + + POOH FOUND IT. + +Then they all went home again. And I think, but I am not quite sure, +that Roo had a hot bath and went straight to bed. But Pooh went back to +his own house, and feeling very proud of what he had done, had a little +something to revive himself. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + IN WHICH PIGLET IS ENTIRELY + SURROUNDED BY WATER + + +It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never +in all his life, and _he_ was goodness knows _how_ old--three, was it, +or four?--never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days. + +"If only," he thought, as he looked out of the window, "I had been in +Pooh's house, or Christopher Robin's house, or Rabbit's house when it +began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of +being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will +stop." And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, "Did you ever see such +rain, Pooh?" and Pooh saying, "Isn't it _awful_, Piglet?" and Piglet +saying, "I wonder how it is over Christopher Robin's way" and Pooh +saying, "I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this +time." It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn't +much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn't share +them with somebody. + +For it was rather exciting. The little dry ditches in which Piglet had +nosed about so often had become streams, the little streams across which +he had splashed were rivers, and the river, between whose steep banks +they had played so happily, had sprawled out of its own bed and was +taking up so much room everywhere, that Piglet was beginning to wonder +whether it would be coming into _his_ bed soon. + +"It's a little Anxious," he said to himself, "to be a Very Small Animal +Entirely Surrounded by Water. Christopher Robin and Pooh could escape by +Climbing Trees, and Kanga could escape by Jumping, and Rabbit could +escape by Burrowing, and Owl could escape by Flying, and Eeyore could +escape by--by Making a Loud Noise Until Rescued, and here am I, +surrounded by water and I can't do _anything_." + +It went on raining, and every day the water got a little higher, until +now it was nearly up to Piglet's window ... and still he hadn't done +anything. + +"There's Pooh," he thought to himself. "Pooh hasn't much Brain, but he +never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they turn out right. +There's Owl. Owl hasn't exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things. He would +know the Right Thing to Do when Surrounded by Water. There's Rabbit. He +hasn't Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan. +There's Kanga. She isn't Clever, Kanga isn't, but she would be so +anxious about Roo that she would do a Good Thing to Do without thinking +about It. And then there's Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow +that he wouldn't mind about this. But I wonder what Christopher Robin +would do?" + +Then suddenly he remembered a story which Christopher Robin had told him +about a man on a desert island who had written something in a bottle and +thrown it in the sea; and Piglet thought that if he wrote something in a +bottle and threw it in the water, perhaps somebody would come and rescue +_him_! + +He left the window and began to search his house, all of it that wasn't +under water, and at last he found a pencil and a small piece of dry +paper, and a bottle with a cork to it. And he wrote on one side of the +paper: + + HELP! + PIGLET (ME) + +and on the other side: + + IT'S ME PIGLET, HELP HELP. + +Then he put the paper in the bottle, and he corked the bottle up as +tightly as he could, and he leant out of his window as far as he could +lean without falling in, and he threw the bottle as far as he could +throw--_splash!_--and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water; +and he watched it floating slowly away in the distance, until his eyes +ached with looking, and sometimes he thought it was the bottle, and +sometimes he thought it was just a ripple on the water which he was +following, and then suddenly he knew that he would never see it again +and that he had done all that he could do to save himself. + +"So now," he thought, "somebody else will have to do something, and I +hope they will do it soon, because if they don't I shall have to swim, +which I can't, so I hope they do it soon." And then he gave a very long +sigh and said, "I wish Pooh were here. It's so much more friendly with +two." + + * * * * * + +When the rain began Pooh was asleep. It rained, and it rained, and it +rained, and he slept and he slept and he slept. He had had a tiring day. +You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of +this that he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such +as a Bear of Little Brain might discover. + +"There's a South Pole," said Christopher Robin, "and I expect there's an +East Pole and a West Pole, though people don't like talking about them." + +Pooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested that they should +have an Expotition to discover the East Pole, but Christopher Robin had +thought of something else to do with Kanga; so Pooh went out to discover +the East Pole by himself. Whether he discovered it or not, I forget; but +he was so tired when he got home that, in the very middle of his supper, +after he had been eating for little more than half-an-hour, he fell fast +asleep in his chair, and slept and slept and slept. + +Then suddenly he was dreaming. He was at the East Pole, and it was a +very cold pole with the coldest sort of snow and ice all over it. He had +found a bee-hive to sleep in, but there wasn't room for his legs, so he +had left them outside. And Wild Woozles, such as inhabit the East Pole, +came and nibbled all the fur off his legs to make nests for their Young. +And the more they nibbled, the colder his legs got, until suddenly he +woke up with an _Ow!_--and there he was, sitting in his chair with his +feet in the water, and water all round him! + +He splashed to his door and looked out.... + +"This is Serious," said Pooh. "I must have an Escape." + +So he took his largest pot of honey and escaped with it to a broad +branch of his tree, well above the water, and then he climbed down again +and escaped with another pot ... and when the whole Escape was +finished, there was Pooh sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and +there, beside him, were ten pots of honey.... + +Two days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his +legs, and there, beside him, were four pots of honey.... + +Three days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his +legs, and there beside him, was one pot of honey. + +Four days later, there was Pooh ... + +And it was on the morning of the fourth day that Piglet's bottle came +floating past him, and with one loud cry of "Honey!" Pooh plunged into +the water, seized the bottle, and struggled back to his tree again. + +"Bother!" said Pooh, as he opened it. "All that wet for nothing. What's +that bit of paper doing?" + +He took it out and looked at it. + +"It's a Missage," he said to himself, "that's what it is. And that +letter is a 'P,' and so is that, and so is that, and 'P' means 'Pooh,' +so it's a very important Missage to me, and I can't read it. I must find +Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can +read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can't +swim. Bother!" + +Then he had an idea, and I think that for a Bear of Very Little Brain, +it was a good idea. He said to himself: + +"If a bottle can float, then a jar can float, and if a jar floats, I can +sit on the top of it, if it's a very big jar." + +So he took his biggest jar, and corked it up. "All boats have to have a +name," he said, "so I shall call mine _The Floating Bear_." And with +these words he dropped his boat into the water and jumped in after it. + +For a little while Pooh and _The Floating Bear_ were uncertain as to +which of them was meant to be on the top, but after trying one or two +different positions, they settled down with _The Floating Bear_ +underneath and Pooh triumphantly astride it, paddling vigorously with +his feet. + + * * * * * + +Christopher Robin lived at the very top of the Forest. It rained, and it +rained, and it rained, but the water couldn't come up to _his_ house. It +was rather jolly to look down into the valleys and see the water all +round him, but it rained so hard that he stayed indoors most of the +time, and thought about things. Every morning he went out with his +umbrella and put a stick in the place where the water came up to, and +every next morning he went out and couldn't see his stick any more, so +he put another stick in the place where the water came up to, and then +he walked home again, and each morning he had a shorter way to walk than +he had had the morning before. On the morning of the fifth day he saw +the water all round him, and knew that for the first time in his life he +was on a real island. Which was very exciting. + +It was on this morning that Owl came flying over the water to say "How +do you do," to his friend Christopher Robin. + +"I say, Owl," said Christopher Robin, "isn't this fun? I'm on an +island!" + +"The atmospheric conditions have been very unfavourable lately," said +Owl. + +"The what?" + +"It has been raining," explained Owl. + +"Yes," said Christopher Robin. "It has." + +"The flood-level has reached an unprecedented height." + +"The who?" + +"There's a lot of water about," explained Owl. + +"Yes," said Christopher Robin, "there is." + +"However, the prospects are rapidly becoming more favourable. At any +moment----" + +"Have you seen Pooh?" + +"No. At any moment----" + +"I hope he's all right," said Christopher Robin. "I've been wondering +about him. I expect Piglet's with him. Do you think they're all right, +Owl?" + +"I expect so. You see, at any moment----" + +"Do go and see, Owl. Because Pooh hasn't got very much brain, and he +might do something silly, and I do love him so, Owl. Do you see, Owl?" + +"That's all right," said Owl. "I'll go. Back directly." And he flew off. + +In a little while he was back again. + +"Pooh isn't there," he said. + +"Not there?" + +"Has _been_ there. He's been sitting on a branch of his tree outside his +house with nine pots of honey. But he isn't there now." + +"Oh, Pooh!" cried Christopher Robin. "Where _are_ you?" + +"Here I am," said a growly voice behind him. + +"Pooh!" + +They rushed into each other's arms. + +"How did you get here, Pooh?" asked Christopher Robin, when he was ready +to talk again. + +"On my boat," said Pooh proudly. "I had a Very Important Missage sent me +in a bottle, and owing to having got some water in my eyes, I couldn't +read it, so I brought it to you. On my boat." + +With these proud words he gave Christopher Robin the missage. + +"But it's from Piglet!" cried Christopher Robin when he had read it. + +"Isn't there anything about Pooh in it?" asked Bear, looking over his +shoulder. + +Christopher Robin read the message aloud. + +"Oh, are those 'P's' piglets? I thought they were poohs." + +"We must rescue him at once! I thought he was with _you_, Pooh. Owl, +could you rescue him on your back?" + +"I don't think so," said Owl, after grave thought. "It is doubtful if +the necessary dorsal muscles----" + +"Then would you fly to him at _once_ and say that Rescue is Coming? And +Pooh and I will think of a Rescue and come as quick as ever we can. Oh, +don't _talk_, Owl, go on quick!" And, still thinking of something to +say, Owl flew off. + +"Now then, Pooh," said Christopher Robin, "where's your boat?" + +"I ought to say," explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the +island, "that it isn't just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it's a +Boat, and sometimes it's more of an Accident. It all depends." + +"Depends on what?" + +"On whether I'm on the top of it or underneath it." + +"Oh! Well, where is it?" + +"There!" said Pooh, pointing proudly to _The Floating Bear_. + +It wasn't what Christopher Robin expected, and the more he looked at it, +the more he thought what a Brave and Clever Bear Pooh was, and the more +Christopher Robin thought this, the more Pooh looked modestly down his +nose and tried to pretend he wasn't. + +"But it's too small for two of us," said Christopher Robin sadly. + +"Three of us with Piglet." + +"That makes it smaller still. Oh, Pooh Bear, what shall we do?" + +And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O.P. (Friend of +Piglet's), R.C. (Rabbit's Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and +T.F. (Eeyore's Comforter and Tail-finder)--in fact, Pooh himself--said +something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with +mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of +Very Little Brain whom he had known and loved so long. + +"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh. + +"?" + +"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh. + +"? ?" + +"We might go in your umbrella," said Pooh. + +"!!!!!!" + +For suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his +umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but +wobbled. Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right +now, when he found that it wasn't, so after a short drink which he +didn't really want he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both +got in together, and it wobbled no longer. + +"I shall call this boat _The Brain of Pooh_," said Christopher Robin, +and _The Brain of Pooh_ set sail forthwith in a south-westerly +direction, revolving gracefully. + +You can imagine Piglet's joy when at last the ship came in sight of him. +In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger +during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was +in the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown +up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long +story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull's egg by mistake, and +the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who +was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly +and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until +he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment luckily, a sudden +loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his +aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself +back into safety and say, "How interesting, and did she?" when--well, +you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, _Brain of +Pooh_ (_Captain_, C. Robin; _1st Mate_, P. Bear) coming over the sea to +rescue him. Christopher Robin and Pooh again.... + +And that is really the end of the story, and I am very tired after that +last sentence, I think I shall stop there. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + IN WHICH CHRISTOPHER ROBIN GIVES + POOH A PARTY, AND WE SAY GOOD-BYE + + +One day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it +the scent of may, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling +happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little +pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had +done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying +over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and +wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy +comfortable way that it was the other fellow's fault, but it didn't +matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a +special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to +see what was wanted. + +"Owl," said Christopher Robin, "I am going to give a party." + +"You are, are you?" said Owl. + +"And it's to be a special sort of party, because it's because of what +Pooh did when he did what he did to save Piglet from the flood." + +"Oh, that's what it's for, is it?" said Owl. + +"Yes, so will you tell Pooh as quickly as you can, and all the others, +because it will be to-morrow." + +"Oh, it will, will it?" said Owl, still being as helpful as possible. + +"So will you go and tell them, Owl?" + +Owl tried to think of something very wise to say, but couldn't, so he +flew off to tell the others. And the first person he told was Pooh. + +"Pooh," he said, "Christopher Robin is giving a party." + +"Oh!" said Pooh. And then seeing that Owl expected him to say something +else, he said "Will there be those little cake things with pink sugar +icing?" + +Owl felt that it was rather beneath him to talk about little cake things +with pink sugar icing, so he told Pooh exactly what Christopher Robin +had said, and flew off to Eeyore. + +"A party for Me?" thought Pooh to himself. "How grand!" And he began to +wonder if all the other animals would know that it was a special Pooh +Party, and if Christopher Robin had told them about _The Floating Bear_ +and the _Brain of Pooh_ and all the wonderful ships he had invented and +sailed on, and he began to think how awful it would be if everybody had +forgotten about it, and nobody quite knew what the party was for; and +the more he thought like this, the more the party got muddled in his +mind, like a dream when nothing goes right. And the dream began to sing +itself over in his head until it became a sort of song. It was an + + ANXIOUS POOH SONG. + + 3 Cheers for Pooh! + (_For Who?_) + For Pooh-- + (_Why what did he do?_) + I thought you knew; + He saved his friend from a wetting! + 3 Cheers for Bear! + (_For where?_) + For Bear-- + He couldn't swim, + But he rescued him! + (_He rescued who?_) + Oh, listen, do! + I am talking of Pooh-- + (_Of who?_) + Of Pooh! + (_I'm sorry I keep forgetting_). + Well, Pooh was a Bear of Enormous Brain + (_Just say it again!_) + Of enormous brain-- + (_Of enormous what?_) + Well, he ate a lot, + And I don't know if he could swim or not, + But he managed to float + On a sort of boat + (_On a sort of what?_) + Well, a sort of pot-- + So now let's give him three hearty cheers + (_So now let's give him three hearty whiches?_) + And hope he'll be with us for years and years, + And grow in health and wisdom and riches! + 3 Cheers for Pooh! + (_For who?_) + For Pooh-- + 3 Cheers for Bear! + (_For where?_) + For Bear-- + 3 Cheers for the wonderful Winnie-the-Pooh! + (_Just tell me, somebody_--WHAT DID HE DO?) + +While this was going on inside him, Owl was talking to Eeyore. + +"Eeyore," said Owl, "Christopher Robin is giving a party." + +"Very interesting," said Eeyore. "I suppose they will be sending me down +the odd bits which got trodden on. Kind and Thoughtful. Not at all, +don't mention it." + +"There is an Invitation for you." + +"What's that like?" + +"An Invitation!" + +"Yes, I heard you. Who dropped it?" + +"This isn't anything to eat, it's asking you to the party. To-morrow." + +Eeyore shook his head slowly. + +"You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That's +Piglet. I'll tell him." + +"No, no!" said Owl, getting quite fussy. "It's you!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"Of course I'm sure. Christopher Robin said 'All of them! Tell all of +them.'" + +"All of them, except Eeyore?" + +"All of them," said Owl sulkily. + +"Ah!" said Eeyore. "A mistake, no doubt, but still, I shall come. Only +don't blame _me_ if it rains." + +But it didn't rain. Christopher Robin had made a long table out of some +long pieces of wood, and they all sat round it. Christopher Robin sat at +one end, and Pooh sat at the other, and between them on one side were +Owl and Eeyore and Piglet, and between them on the other side were +Rabbit, and Roo and Kanga. And all Rabbit's friends and relations spread +themselves about on the grass, and waited hopefully in case anybody +spoke to them, or dropped anything, or asked them the time. + +It was the first party to which Roo had ever been, and he was very +excited. As soon as ever they had sat down he began to talk. + +"Hallo, Pooh!" he squeaked. + +"Hallo, Roo!" said Pooh. + +Roo jumped up and down in his seat for a little while and then began +again. + +"Hallo, Piglet!" he squeaked. + +Piglet waved a paw at him, being too busy to say anything. + +"Hallo, Eeyore!" said Roo. + +Eeyore nodded gloomily at him. "It will rain soon, you see if it +doesn't," he said. + +Roo looked to see if it didn't, and it didn't, so he said "Hallo, +Owl!"--and Owl said "Hallo, my little fellow," in a kindly way, and went +on telling Christopher Robin about an accident which had nearly happened +to a friend of his whom Christopher Robin didn't know, and Kanga said to +Roo, "Drink up your milk first, dear, and talk afterwards." So Roo, who +was drinking his milk, tried to say that he could do both at once ... +and had to be patted on the back and dried for quite a long time +afterwards. + +When they had all nearly eaten enough, Christopher Robin banged on the +table with his spoon, and everybody stopped talking and was very silent, +except Roo who was just finishing a loud attack of hiccups and trying to +look as if it was one of Rabbit's relations. + +"This party," said Christopher Robin, "is a party because of what +someone did, and we all know who it was, and it's his party, because of +what he did, and I've got a present for him and here it is." Then he +felt about a little and whispered, "Where is it?" + +While he was looking, Eeyore coughed in an impressive way and began to +speak. + +"Friends," he said, "including oddments, it is a great pleasure, or +perhaps I had better say it has been a pleasure so far, to see you at my +party. What I did was nothing. Any of you--except Rabbit and Owl and +Kanga--would have done the same. Oh, and Pooh. My remarks do not, of +course, apply to Piglet and Roo, because they are too small. Any of you +would have done the same. But it just happened to be Me. It was not, I +need hardly say, with an idea of getting what Christopher Robin is +looking for now"--and he put his front leg to his mouth and said in a +loud whisper, "Try under the table"--"that I did what I did--but because +I feel that we should all do what we can to help. I feel that we should +all----" + +"H--hup!" said Roo accidentally. + +"Roo, dear!" said Kanga reproachfully. + +"Was it me?" asked Roo, a little surprised. + +"What's Eeyore talking about?" Piglet whispered to Pooh. + +"I don't know," said Pooh rather dolefully. + +"I thought this was _your_ party." + +"I thought it was _once_. But I suppose it isn't." + +"I'd sooner it was yours than Eeyore's," said Piglet. + +"So would I," said Pooh. + +"H--hup!" said Roo again. + +"AS--I--WAS--SAYING," said Eeyore loudly and sternly, "as I was saying +when I was interrupted by various Loud Sounds, I feel that----" + +"Here it is!" cried Christopher Robin excitedly. "Pass it down to silly +old Pooh. It's for Pooh." + +"For Pooh?" said Eeyore. + +"Of course it is. The best bear in all the world." + +"I might have known," said Eeyore. "After all, one can't complain. I +have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last +week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said 'Bother!' +The Social Round. Always something going on." + +Nobody was listening, for they were all saying "Open it, Pooh," "What is +it, Pooh?" "I know what it is," "No, you don't" and other helpful +remarks of this sort. And of course Pooh was opening it as quickly as +ever he could, but without cutting the string, because you never know +when a bit of string might be Useful. At last it was undone. + +When Pooh saw what it was, he nearly fell down, he was so pleased. It +was a Special Pencil Case. There were pencils in it marked "B" for Bear, +and pencils marked "HB" for Helping Bear, and pencils marked "BB" for +Brave Bear. There was a knife for sharpening the pencils, and +india-rubber for rubbing out anything which you had spelt wrong, and a +ruler for ruling lines for the words to walk on, and inches marked on +the ruler in case you wanted to know how many inches anything was, and +Blue Pencils and Red Pencils and Green Pencils for saying special things +in blue and red and green. And all these lovely things were in little +pockets of their own in a Special Case which shut with a click when you +clicked it. And they were all for Pooh. + +"Oh!" said Pooh. + +"Oh, Pooh!" said everybody else except Eeyore. + +"Thank-you," growled Pooh. + +But Eeyore was saying to himself, "This writing business. Pencils and +what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it." + +Later on, when they had all said "Good-bye" and "Thank-you" to +Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in +the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent. + +"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's +the first thing you say to yourself?" + +"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do _you_ say, Piglet?" + +"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting _to-day_?" said Piglet. + +Pooh nodded thoughtfully. + +"It's the same thing," he said. + + * * * * * + +"And what did happen?" asked Christopher Robin. + +"When?" + +"Next morning." + +"I don't know." + +"Could you think and tell me and Pooh some time?" + +"If you wanted it very much." + +"Pooh does," said Christopher Robin. + +He gave a deep sigh, picked his bear up by the leg and walked off to the +door, trailing Winnie-the-Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and +said "Coming to see me have my bath?" + +"I might," I said. + +"Was Pooh's pencil case any better than mine?" + +"It was just the same," I said. + +He nodded and went out ... and in a moment I heard +Winnie-the-Pooh--_bump, bump, bump_--going up the stairs behind him. + + + + + Printed in Canada + by Warwick Bros. & Rutter, Limited + Printers and Bookbinders + Toronto + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Near the end of Chapter VI, the reference to +Kanga was modified to read "...and every Tuesday Kanga spent the day +with her great friend Pooh ..."] + + + + *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINNIE-THE-POOH *** + + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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