GREEN TEA

1871

MR. JUSTICE HARBOTTLE

1872

By

Joseph Sheridan LeFanu

GREEN TEA

PROLOGUE

_Martin Hesselius, the German Physician_

Though carefully educated in medicine and surgery, I have neverpractised either. The study of each continues, nevertheless, to interestme profoundly. Neither idleness nor caprice caused my secession from thehonourable calling which I had just entered. The cause was a verytrifling scratch inflicted by a dissecting knife. This trifle cost methe loss of two fingers, amputated promptly, and the more painful lossof my health, for I have never been quite well since, and have seldombeen twelve months together in the same place. 

In my wanderings I became acquainted with Dr. Martin Hesselius, awanderer like myself, like me a physician, and like me an enthusiast inhis profession. Unlike me in this, that his wanderings were voluntary, and he a man, if not of fortune, as we estimate fortune in England, atleast in what our forefathers used to term "easy circumstances. " He wasan old man when I first saw him; nearly five-and-thirty years my senior. 

In Dr. Martin Hesselius, I found my master. His knowledge was immense, his grasp of a case was an intuition. He was the very man to inspire ayoung enthusiast, like me, with awe and delight. My admiration has stoodthe test of time and survived the separation of death. I am sure it waswell-founded. 

For nearly twenty years I acted as his medical secretary. His immensecollection of papers he has left in my care, to be arranged, indexed andbound. His treatment of some of these cases is curious. He writes in twodistinct characters. He describes what he saw and heard as anintelligent layman might, and when in this style of narrative he hadseen the patient either through his own hall-door, to the light of day, or through the gates of darkness to the caverns of the dead, he returnsupon the narrative, and in the terms of his art and with all the forceand originality of genius, proceeds to the work of analysis, diagnosisand illustration. 

Here and there a case strikes me as of a kind to amuse or horrify a layreader with an interest quite different from the peculiar one which itmay possess for an expert. With slight modifications, chiefly oflanguage, and of course a change of names, I copy the following. Thenarrator is Dr. Martin Hesselius. I find it among the voluminous notesof cases which he made during a tour in England about sixty-four yearsago. 

It is related in series of letters to his friend Professor Van Loo ofLeyden. The professor was not a physician, but a chemist, and a man whoread history and metaphysics and medicine, and had, in his day, writtena play. 

The narrative is therefore, if somewhat less valuable as a medicalrecord, necessarily written in a manner more likely to interest anunlearned reader. 

These letters, from a memorandum attached, appear to have been returnedon the death of the professor, in 1819, to Dr. Hesselius. They arewritten, some in English, some in French, but the greater part inGerman. I am a faithful, though I am conscious, by no means a gracefultranslator, and although here and there I omit some passages, andshorten others, and disguise names, I have interpolated nothing. 

CHAPTER I

_Dr. Hesselius Relates How He Met the Rev. Mr. Jennings_

The Rev. Mr. Jennings is tall and thin. He is middle-aged, and dresseswith a natty, old-fashioned, high-church precision. He is naturally alittle stately, but not at all stiff. His features, without beinghandsome, are well formed, and their expression extremely kind, but alsoshy. 

I met him one evening at Lady Mary Heyduke's. The modesty andbenevolence of his countenance are extremely prepossessing. 

We were but a small party, and he joined agreeably enough in theconversation, He seems to enjoy listening very much more thancontributing to the talk; but what he says is always to the purpose andwell said. He is a great favourite of Lady Mary's, who it seems, consults him upon many things, and thinks him the most happy and blessedperson on earth. Little knows she about him. 

The Rev. Mr. Jennings is a bachelor, and has, they say sixty thousandpounds in the funds. He is a charitable man. He is most anxious to beactively employed in his sacred profession, and yet though alwaystolerably well elsewhere, when he goes down to his vicarage inWarwickshire, to engage in the actual duties of his sacred calling, hishealth soon fails him, and in a very strange way. So says Lady Mary. 

There is no doubt that Mr. Jennings' health does break down in, generally, a sudden and mysterious way, sometimes in the very act ofofficiating in his old and pretty church at Kenlis. It may be his heart, it may be his brain. But so it has happened three or four times, oroftener, that after proceeding a certain way in the service, he has on asudden stopped short, and after a silence, apparently quite unable toresume, he has fallen into solitary, inaudible prayer, his hands and hiseyes uplifted, and then pale as death, and in the agitation of a strangeshame and horror, descended trembling, and got into the vestry-room, leaving his congregation, without explanation, to themselves. Thisoccurred when his curate was absent. When he goes down to Kenlis now, healways takes care to provide a clergyman to share his duty, and tosupply his place on the instant should he become thus suddenlyincapacitated. 

When Mr. Jennings breaks down quite, and beats a retreat from thevicarage, and returns to London, where, in a dark street off Piccadilly, he inhabits a very narrow house, Lady Mary says that he is alwaysperfectly well. I have my own opinion about that. There are degrees ofcourse. We shall see. 

Mr. Jennings is a perfectly gentlemanlike man. People, however, remarksomething odd. There is an impression a little ambiguous. One thingwhich certainly contributes to it, people I think don't remember; or, perhaps, distinctly remark. But I did, almost immediately. Mr. Jenningshas a way of looking sidelong upon the carpet, as if his eye followedthe movements of something there. This, of course, is not always. Itoccurs now and then. But often enough to give a certain oddity, as Ihave said, to his manner, and in this glance travelling along the floorthere is something both shy and anxious. 

A medical philosopher, as you are good enough to call me, elaboratingtheories by the aid of cases sought out by himself, and by him watchedand scrutinised with more time at command, and consequently infinitelymore minuteness than the ordinary practitioner can afford, fallsinsensibly into habits of observation, which accompany him everywhere, and are exercised, as some people would say, impertinently, upon everysubject that presents itself with the least likelihood of rewardinginquiry. 

There was a promise of this kind in the slight, timid, kindly, butreserved gentleman, whom I met for the first time at this agreeablelittle evening gathering. I observed, of course, more than I here setdown; but I reserve all that borders on the technical for a strictlyscientific paper. 

I may remark, that when I here speak of medical science, I do so, as Ihope some day to see it more generally understood, in a much morecomprehensive sense than its generally material treatment would warrant. I believe the entire natural world is but the ultimate expression ofthat spiritual world from which, and in which alone, it has its life. Ibelieve that the essential man is a spirit, that the spirit is anorganised substance, but as different in point of material from what weordinarily understand by matter, as light or electricity is; that thematerial body is, in the most literal sense, a vesture, and deathconsequently no interruption of the living man's existence, but simplyhis extrication from the natural body--a process which commences at themoment of what we term death, and the completion of which, at furthest afew days later, is the resurrection "in power. "

The person who weighs the consequences of these positions will probablysee their practical bearing upon medical science. This is, however, byno means the proper place for displaying the proofs and discussing theconsequences of this too generally unrecognized state of facts. 

In pursuance of my habit, I was covertly observing Mr. Jennings, withall my caution--I think he perceived it--and I saw plainly that he wasas cautiously observing me. Lady Mary happening to address me by myname, as Dr. Hesselius, I saw that he glanced at me more sharply, andthen became thoughtful for a few minutes. 

After this, as I conversed with a gentleman at the other end of theroom, I saw him look at me more steadily, and with an interest which Ithought I understood. I then saw him take an opportunity of chattingwith Lady Mary, and was, as one always is, perfectly aware of being thesubject of a distant inquiry and answer. 

This tall clergyman approached me by-and-by; and in a little time we hadgot into conversation. When two people, who like reading, and know booksand places, having travelled, wish to discourse, it is very strange ifthey can't find topics. It was not accident that brought him near me, and led him into conversation. He knew German and had read my Essays onMetaphysical Medicine which suggest more than they actually say. 

This courteous man, gentle, shy, plainly a man of thought and reading, who moving and talking among us, was not altogether of us, and whom Ialready suspected of leading a life whose transactions and alarms werecarefully concealed, with an impenetrable reserve from, not only theworld, but his best beloved friends--was cautiously weighing in his ownmind the idea of taking a certain step with regard to me. 

I penetrated his thoughts without his being aware of it, and was carefulto say nothing which could betray to his sensitive vigilance mysuspicions respecting his position, or my surmises about his plansrespecting myself. 

We chatted upon indifferent subjects for a time but at last he said:

"I was very much interested by some papers of yours, Dr. Hesselius, uponwhat you term Metaphysical Medicine--I read them in German, ten ortwelve years ago--have they been translated?"

"No, I'm sure they have not--I should have heard. They would have askedmy leave, I think. "

"I asked the publishers here, a few months ago, to get the book for mein the original German; but they tell me it is out of print. "

"So it is, and has been for some years; but it flatters me as an authorto find that you have not forgotten my little book, although, " I added, laughing, "ten or twelve years is a considerable time to have managedwithout it; but I suppose you have been turning the subject over againin your mind, or something has happened lately to revive your interestin it. "

At this remark, accompanied by a glance of inquiry, a suddenembarrassment disturbed Mr. Jennings, analogous to that which makes ayoung lady blush and look foolish. He dropped his eyes, and folded hishands together uneasily, and looked oddly, and you would have said, guiltily, for a moment. 

I helped him out of his awkwardness in the best way, by appearing not toobserve it, and going straight on, I said: "Those revivals of interestin a subject happen to me often; one book suggests another, and oftensends me back a wild-goose chase over an interval of twenty years. Butif you still care to possess a copy, I shall be only too happy toprovide you; I have still got two or three by me--and if you allow me topresent one I shall be very much honoured. "

"You are very good indeed, " he said, quite at his ease again, in amoment: "I almost despaired--I don't know how to thank you. "

"Pray don't say a word; the thing is really so little worth that I amonly ashamed of having offered it, and if you thank me any more I shallthrow it into the fire in a fit of modesty. "

Mr. Jennings laughed. He inquired where I was staying in London, andafter a little more conversation on a variety of subjects, he took hisdeparture. 

CHAPTER II

_The Doctor Questions Lady Mary and She Answers_

"I like your vicar so much, Lady Mary, " said I, as soon as he was gone. "He has read, travelled, and thought, and having also suffered, he oughtto be an accomplished companion. "

"So he is, and, better still, he is a really good man, " said she. "Hisadvice is invaluable about my schools, and all my little undertakings atDawlbridge, and he's so painstaking, he takes so much trouble--you haveno idea--wherever he thinks he can be of use: he's so good-natured andso sensible. "

"It is pleasant to hear so good an account of his neighbourly virtues. Ican only testify to his being an agreeable and gentle companion, and inaddition to what you have told me, I think I can tell you two or threethings about him, " said I. 

"Really!"

"Yes, to begin with, he's unmarried. "

"Yes, that's right--go on. "

"He has been writing, that is he _was_, but for two or three yearsperhaps, he has not gone on with his work, and the book was upon somerather abstract subject--perhaps theology. "

"Well, he was writing a book, as you say; I'm not quite sure what it wasabout, but only that it was nothing that I cared for; very likely you areright, and he certainly did stop--yes. "

"And although he only drank a little coffee here to-night, he likes tea, at least, did like it extravagantly. "

"Yes, that's _quite_ true. "

"He drank green tea, a good deal, didn't he?" I pursued. 

"Well, that's very odd! Green tea was a subject on which we used almostto quarrel. "

"But he has quite given that up, " said I. 

"So he has. "

"And, now, one more fact. His mother or his father, did you know them?"

"Yes, both; his father is only ten years dead, and their place is nearDawlbridge. We knew them very well, " she answered. 

"Well, either his mother or his father--I should rather think hisfather, saw a ghost, " said I. 

"Well, you really are a conjurer, Dr. Hesselius. "

"Conjurer or no, haven't I said right?" I answered merrily. 

"You certainly have, and it _was_ his father: he was a silent, whimsicalman, and he used to bore my father about his dreams, and at last he toldhim a story about a ghost he had seen and talked with, and a very oddstory it was. I remember it particularly, because I was so afraid ofhim. This story was long before he died--when I was quite a child--andhis ways were so silent and moping, and he used to drop in sometimes, inthe dusk, when I was alone in the drawing-room, and I used to fancythere were ghosts about him. "

I smiled and nodded. 

"And now, having established my character as a conjurer, I think I mustsay good-night, " said I. 

"But how _did_ you find it out?"

"By the planets, of course, as the gipsies do, " I answered, and so, gaily we said good-night. 

Next morning I sent the little book he had been inquiring after, and anote to Mr. Jennings, and on returning late that evening, I found thathe had called at my lodgings, and left his card. He asked whether I wasat home, and asked at what hour he would be most likely to find me. 

Does he intend opening his case, and consulting me "professionally, " asthey say? I hope so. I have already conceived a theory about him. It issupported by Lady Mary's answers to my parting questions. I should likemuch to ascertain from his own lips. But what can I do consistently withgood breeding to invite a confession? Nothing. I rather think hemeditates one. At all events, my dear Van L. , I shan't make myselfdifficult of access; I mean to return his visit tomorrow. It will beonly civil in return for his politeness, to ask to see him. Perhapssomething may come of it. Whether much, little, or nothing, my dear VanL. , you shall hear. 

CHAPTER III

_Dr. Hesselius Picks Up Something in Latin Books_

Well, I have called at Blank Street. 

On inquiring at the door, the servant told me that Mr. Jennings wasengaged very particularly with a gentleman, a clergyman from Kenlis, hisparish in the country. Intending to reserve my privilege, and to callagain, I merely intimated that I should try another time, and had turnedto go, when the servant begged my pardon, and asked me, looking at me alittle more attentively than well-bred persons of his order usually do, whether I was Dr. Hesselius; and, on learning that I was, he said, "Perhaps then, sir, you would allow me to mention it to Mr. Jennings, for I am sure he wishes to see you. "

The servant returned in a moment, with a message from Mr. Jennings, asking me to go into his study, which was in effect his back drawing-room, promising to be with me in a very few minutes. 

This was really a study--almost a library. The room was lofty, with twotall slender windows, and rich dark curtains. It was much larger than Ihad expected, and stored with books on every side, from the floor to theceiling. The upper carpet--for to my tread it felt that there were twoor three--was a Turkey carpet. My steps fell noiselessly. The bookcasesstanding out, placed the windows, particularly narrow ones, in deeprecesses. The effect of the room was, although extremely comfortable, and even luxurious, decidedly gloomy, and aided by the silence, almostoppressive. Perhaps, however, I ought to have allowed something forassociation. My mind had connected peculiar ideas with Mr. Jennings. Istepped into this perfectly silent room, of a very silent house, with apeculiar foreboding; and its darkness, and solemn clothing of books, forexcept where two narrow looking-glasses were set in the wall, they wereeverywhere, helped this somber feeling. 

While awaiting Mr. Jennings' arrival, I amused myself by looking intosome of the books with which his shelves were laden. Not among these, but immediately under them, with their backs upward, on the floor, Ilighted upon a complete set of Swedenborg's "Arcana Caelestia, " in theoriginal Latin, a very fine folio set, bound in the natty livery whichtheology affects, pure vellum, namely, gold letters, and carmine edges. There were paper markers in several of these volumes, I raised andplaced them, one after the other, upon the table, and opening wherethese papers were placed, I read in the solemn Latin phraseology, aseries of sentences indicated by a pencilled line at the margin. Ofthese I copy here a few, translating them into English. 

"When man's interior sight is opened, which is that of his spirit, thenthere appear the things of another life, which cannot possibly be madevisible to the bodily sight. ". .. 

"By the internal sight it has been granted me to see the things that arein the other life, more clearly than I see those that are in the world. From these considerations, it is evident that external vision existsfrom interior vision, and this from a vision still more interior, and soon. ". .. 

"There are with every man at least two evil spirits. ". .. 

"With wicked genii there is also a fluent speech, but harsh and grating. There is also among them a speech which is not fluent, wherein thedissent of the thoughts is perceived as something secretly creepingalong within it. "

"The evil spirits associated with man are, indeed from the hells, butwhen with man they are not then in hell, but are taken out thence. Theplace where they then are, is in the midst between heaven and hell, andis called the world of spirits--when the evil spirits who are with man, are in that world, they are not in any infernal torment, but in everythought and affection of man, and so, in all that the man himselfenjoys. But when they are remitted into their hell, they return to theirformer state. ". .. 

"If evil spirits could perceive that they were associated with man, andyet that they were spirits separate from him, and if they could flow ininto the things of his body, they would attempt by a thousand means todestroy him; for they hate man with a deadly hatred. ". .. 

"Knowing, therefore, that I was a man in the body, they were continuallystriving to destroy me, not as to the body only, but especially as tothe soul; for to destroy any man or spirit is the very delight of thelife of all who are in hell; but I have been continually protected bythe Lord. Hence it appears how dangerous it is for man to be in a livingconsort with spirits, unless he be in the good of faith. ". .. 

"Nothing is more carefully guarded from the knowledge of associatespirits than their being thus conjoint with a man, for if they knew itthey would speak to him, with the intention to destroy him. ". .. 

"The delight of hell is to do evil to man, and to hasten his eternalruin. "

A long note, written with a very sharp and fine pencil, in Mr. Jennings'neat hand, at the foot of the page, caught my eye. Expecting hiscriticism upon the text, I read a word or two, and stopped, for it wassomething quite different, and began with these words, _Deus misereaturmei_--"May God compassionate me. " Thus warned of its private nature, Iaverted my eyes, and shut the book, replacing all the volumes as I hadfound them, except one which interested me, and in which, as menstudious and solitary in their habits will do, I grew so absorbed as totake no cognisance of the outer world, nor to remember where I was. 

I was reading some pages which refer to "representatives" and"correspondents, " in the technical language of Swedenborg, and hadarrived at a passage, the substance of which is, that evil spirits, whenseen by other eyes than those of their infernal associates, presentthemselves, by "correspondence, " in the shape of the beast (_fera_)which represents their particular lust and life, in aspect direful andatrocious. This is a long passage, and particularises a number of thosebestial forms. 

CHAPTER IV

_Four Eyes Were Reading the Passage_

I was running the head of my pencil-case along the line as I read it, and something caused me to raise my eyes. 

Directly before me was one of the mirrors I have mentioned, in which Isaw reflected the tall shape of my friend, Mr. Jennings, leaning over myshoulder, and reading the page at which I was busy, and with a face sodark and wild that I should hardly have known him. 

I turned and rose. He stood erect also, and with an effort laughed alittle, saying:

"I came in and asked you how you did, but without succeeding in awakingyou from your book; so I could not restrain my curiosity, and veryimpertinently, I'm afraid, peeped over your shoulder. This is not yourfirst time of looking into those pages. You have looked into Swedenborg, no doubt, long ago?"

"Oh dear, yes! I owe Swedenborg a great deal; you will discover tracesof him in the little book on Metaphysical Medicine, which you were so goodas to remember. "

Although my friend affected a gaiety of manner, there was a slight flushin his face, and I could perceive that he was inwardly much perturbed. 

"I'm scarcely yet qualified, I know so little of Swedenborg. I've onlyhad them a fortnight, " he answered, "and I think they are rather likelyto make a solitary man nervous--that is, judging from the very little Ihave read--I don't say that they have made me so, " he laughed; "and I'mso very much obliged for the book. I hope you got my note?"

I made all proper acknowledgments and modest disclaimers. 

"I never read a book that I go with, so entirely, as that of yours, " hecontinued. "I saw at once there is more in it than is quite unfolded. Doyou know Dr. Harley?" he asked, rather abruptly. 

In passing, the editor remarks that the physician here named was one ofthe most eminent who had ever practised in England. 

I did, having had letters to him, and had experienced from him greatcourtesy and considerable assistance during my visit to England. 

"I think that man one of the very greatest fools I ever met in my life, "said Mr. Jennings. 

This was the first time I had ever heard him say a sharp thing ofanybody, and such a term applied to so high a name a little startled me. 

"Really! and in what way?" I asked. 

"In his profession, " he answered. 

I smiled. 

"I mean this, " he said: "he seems to me, one half, blind--I mean onehalf of all he looks at is dark--preternaturally bright and vivid allthe rest; and the worst of it is, it seems _wilful_. I can't get him--Imean he won't--I've had some experience of him as a physician, but Ilook on him as, in that sense, no better than a paralytic mind, anintellect half dead. I'll tell you--I know I shall some time--all aboutit, " he said, with a little agitation. "You stay some months longer inEngland. If I should be out of town during your stay for a little time, would you allow me to trouble you with a letter?"

"I should be only too happy, " I assured him. 

"Very good of you. I am so utterly dissatisfied with Harley. "

"A little leaning to the materialistic school, " I said. 

"A _mere_ materialist, " he corrected me; "you can't think how that sortof thing worries one who knows better. You won't tell any one--any of myfriends you know--that I am hippish; now, for instance, no one knows--noteven Lady Mary--that I have seen Dr. Harley, or any other doctor. Sopray don't mention it; and, if I should have any threatening of anattack, you'll kindly let me write, or, should I be in town, have alittle talk with you. "

I was full of conjecture, and unconsciously I found I had fixed my eyesgravely on him, for he lowered his for a moment, and he said:

"I see you think I might as well tell you now, or else you are forming aconjecture; but you may as well give it up. If you were guessing all therest of your life, you will never hit on it. "

He shook his head smiling, and over that wintry sunshine a black cloudsuddenly came down, and he drew his breath in, through his teeth as mendo in pain. 

"Sorry, of course, to learn that you apprehend occasion to consult anyof us; but, command me when and how you like, and I need not assure youthat your confidence is sacred. "

He then talked of quite other things, and in a comparatively cheerfulway and after a little time, I took my leave. 

CHAPTER V

_Dr. Hesselius is Summoned to Richmond_

We parted cheerfully, but he was not cheerful, nor was I. There arecertain expressions of that powerful organ of spirit--the humanface--which, although I have seen them often, and possess a doctor'snerve, yet disturb me profoundly. One look of Mr. Jennings haunted me. Ithad seized my imagination with so dismal a power that I changed my plansfor the evening, and went to the opera, feeling that I wanted a change ofideas. 

I heard nothing of or from him for two or three days, when a note in hishand reached me. It was cheerful, and full of hope. He said that he hadbeen for some little time so much better--quite well, in fact--that hewas going to make a little experiment, and run down for a month or so tohis parish, to try whether a little work might not quite set him up. There was in it a fervent religious expression of gratitude for hisrestoration, as he now almost hoped he might call it. 

A day or two later I saw Lady Mary, who repeated what his note hadannounced, and told me that he was actually in Warwickshire, havingresumed his clerical duties at Kenlis; and she added, "I begin to thinkthat he is really perfectly well, and that there never was anything thematter, more than nerves and fancy; we are all nervous, but I fancythere is nothing like a little hard work for that kind of weakness, andhe has made up his mind to try it. I should not be surprised if he didnot come back for a year. "

Notwithstanding all this confidence, only two days later I had thisnote, dated from his house off Piccadilly:

 Dear Sir, --I have returned disappointed. If I should feel at all able to see you, I shall write to ask you kindly to call. At present, I am too low, and, in fact, simply unable to say all I wish to say. Pray don't mention my name to my friends. I can see no one. By-and-by, please God, you shall hear from me. I mean to take a run into Shropshire, where some of my people are. God bless you! May we, on my return, meet more happily than I can now write. 

About a week after this I saw Lady Mary at her own house, the lastperson, she said, left in town, and just on the wing for Brighton, forthe London season was quite over. She told me that she had heard fromMr. Jenning's niece, Martha, in Shropshire. There was nothing to begathered from her letter, more than that he was low and nervous. Inthose words, of which healthy people think so lightly, what a world ofsuffering is sometimes hidden!

Nearly five weeks had passed without any further news of Mr. Jennings. At the end of that time I received a note from him. He wrote:

"I have been in the country, and have had change of air, change ofscene, change of faces, change of everything--and in everything--but_myself_. I have made up my mind, so far as the most irresolute creatureon earth can do it, to tell my case fully to you. If your engagementswill permit, pray come to me to-day, to-morrow, or the next day; but, pray defer as little as possible. You know not how much I need help. Ihave a quiet house at Richmond, where I now am. Perhaps you can manageto come to dinner, or to luncheon, or even to tea. You shall have notrouble in finding me out. The servant at Blank Street, who takes thisnote, will have a carriage at your door at any hour you please; and I amalways to be found. You will say that I ought not to be alone. I havetried everything. Come and see. "

I called up the servant, and decided on going out the same evening, which accordingly I did. 

He would have been much better in a lodging-house, or hotel, I thought, as I drove up through a short double row of sombre elms to a veryold-fashioned brick house, darkened by the foliage of these trees, whichovertopped, and nearly surrounded it. It was a perverse choice, fornothing could be imagined more triste and silent. The house, I found, belonged to him. He had stayed for a day or two in town, and, finding itfor some cause insupportable, had come out here, probably because beingfurnished and his own, he was relieved of the thought and delay ofselection, by coming here. 

The sun had already set, and the red reflected light of the western skyilluminated the scene with the peculiar effect with which we are allfamiliar. The hall seemed very dark, but, getting to the back drawing-room, whose windows command the west, I was again in the same dusky light. 

I sat down, looking out upon the richly-wooded landscape that glowed inthe grand and melancholy light which was every moment fading. Thecorners of the room were already dark; all was growing dim, and thegloom was insensibly toning my mind, already prepared for what wassinister. I was waiting alone for his arrival, which soon took place. The door communicating with the front room opened, and the tall figureof Mr. Jennings, faintly seen in the ruddy twilight, came, with quietstealthy steps, into the room. 

We shook hands, and, taking a chair to the window, where there was stilllight enough to enable us to see each other's faces, he sat down besideme, and, placing his hand upon my arm, with scarcely a word of prefacebegan his narrative. 

CHAPTER VI

_How Mr. Jennings Met His Companion_

The faint glow of the west, the pomp of the then lonely woods ofRichmond, were before us, behind and about us the darkening room, and onthe stony face of the sufferer--for the character of his face, thoughstill gentle and sweet, was changed--rested that dim, odd glow whichseems to descend and produce, where it touches, lights, sudden thoughfaint, which are lost, almost without gradation, in darkness. Thesilence, too, was utter: not a distant wheel, or bark, or whistle fromwithout; and within the depressing stillness of an invalid bachelor'shouse. 

I guessed well the nature, though not even vaguely the particulars ofthe revelations I was about to receive, from that fixed face ofsuffering that so oddly flushed stood out, like a portrait ofSchalken's, before its background of darkness. 

"It began, " he said, "on the 15th of October, three years and elevenweeks ago, and two days--I keep very accurate count, for every day istorment. If I leave anywhere a chasm in my narrative tell me. 

"About four years ago I began a work, which had cost me very muchthought and reading. It was upon the religious metaphysics of theancients. "

"I know, " said I, "the actual religion of educated and thinkingpaganism, quite apart from symbolic worship? A wide and very interestingfield. "

"Yes, but not good for the mind--the Christian mind, I mean. Paganism isall bound together in essential unity, and, with evil sympathy, theirreligion involves their art, and both their manners, and the subject isa degrading fascination and the Nemesis sure. God forgive me!

"I wrote a great deal; I wrote late at night. I was always thinking onthe subject, walking about, wherever I was, everywhere. It thoroughlyinfected me. You are to remember that all the material ideas connectedwith it were more or less of the beautiful, the subject itselfdelightfully interesting, and I, then, without a care. "

He sighed heavily. 

"I believe, that every one who sets about writing in earnest does hiswork, as a friend of mine phrased it, _on_ something--tea, or coffee, ortobacco. I suppose there is a material waste that must be hourlysupplied in such occupations, or that we should grow too abstracted, andthe mind, as it were, pass out of the body, unless it were remindedoften enough of the connection by actual sensation. At all events, Ifelt the want, and I supplied it. Tea was my companion--at first theordinary black tea, made in the usual way, not too strong: but I drank agood deal, and increased its strength as I went on. I never experiencedan uncomfortable symptom from it. I began to take a little green tea. Ifound the effect pleasanter, it cleared and intensified the power ofthought so, I had come to take it frequently, but not stronger than onemight take it for pleasure. I wrote a great deal out here, it was soquiet, and in this room. I used to sit up very late, and it became ahabit with me to sip my tea--green tea--every now and then as my workproceeded. I had a little kettle on my table, that swung over a lamp, and made tea two or three times between eleven o'clock and two or threein the morning, my hours of going to bed. I used to go into town everyday. I was not a monk, and, although I spent an hour or two in alibrary, hunting up authorities and looking out lights upon my theme, Iwas in no morbid state as far as I can judge. I met my friends prettymuch as usual and enjoyed their society, and, on the whole, existencehad never been, I think, so pleasant before. 

"I had met with a man who had some odd old books, German editions inmediaeval Latin, and I was only too happy to be permitted access tothem. This obliging person's books were in the City, a veryout-of-the-way part of it. I had rather out-stayed my intended hour, and, on coming out, seeing no cab near, I was tempted to get into the omnibuswhich used to drive past this house. It was darker than this by the timethe 'bus had reached an old house, you may have remarked, with four poplarsat each side of the door, and there the last passenger but myself gotout. We drove along rather faster. It was twilight now. I leaned back inmy corner next the door ruminating pleasantly. 

"The interior of the omnibus was nearly dark. I had observed in thecorner opposite to me at the other side, and at the end next the horses, two small circular reflections, as it seemed to me of a reddish light. They were about two inches apart, and about the size of those smallbrass buttons that yachting men used to put upon their jackets. I beganto speculate, as listless men will, upon this trifle, as it seemed. Fromwhat centre did that faint but deep red light come, and from what--glassbeads, buttons, toy decorations--was it reflected? We were lumberingalong gently, having nearly a mile still to go. I had not solved thepuzzle, and it became in another minute more odd, for these two luminouspoints, with a sudden jerk, descended nearer and nearer the floor, keeping still their relative distance and horizontal position, and then, as suddenly, they rose to the level of the seat on which I was sittingand I saw them no more. 

"My curiosity was now really excited, and, before I had time to think, Isaw again these two dull lamps, again together near the floor; againthey disappeared, and again in their old corner I saw them. 

"So, keeping my eyes upon them, I edged quietly up my own side, towardsthe end at which I still saw these tiny discs of red. 

"There was very little light in the 'bus. It was nearly dark. I leanedforward to aid my endeavour to discover what these little circles reallywere. They shifted position a little as I did so. I began now toperceive an outline of something black, and I soon saw, with tolerabledistinctness, the outline of a small black monkey, pushing its faceforward in mimicry to meet mine; those were its eyes, and I now dimlysaw its teeth grinning at me. 

"I drew back, not knowing whether it might not meditate a spring. Ifancied that one of the passengers had forgot this ugly pet, and wishingto ascertain something of its temper, though not caring to trust myfingers to it, I poked my umbrella softly towards it. It remainedimmovable--up to it--_through_ it. For through it, and back and forwardit passed, without the slightest resistance. 

"I can't, in the least, convey to you the kind of horror that I felt. When I had ascertained that the thing was an illusion, as I thensupposed, there came a misgiving about myself and a terror thatfascinated me in impotence to remove my gaze from the eyes of the brutefor some moments. As I looked, it made a little skip back, quite intothe corner, and I, in a panic, found myself at the door, having put myhead out, drawing deep breaths of the outer air, and staring at thelights and tress we were passing, too glad to reassure myself ofreality. 

"I stopped the 'bus and got out. I perceived the man look oddly at me asI paid him. I dare say there was something unusual in my looks andmanner, for I had never felt so strangely before. "

CHAPTER VII

_The Journey: First Stage_

"When the omnibus drove on, and I was alone upon the road, I lookedcarefully round to ascertain whether the monkey had followed me. To myindescribable relief I saw it nowhere. I can't describe easily what ashock I had received, and my sense of genuine gratitude on findingmyself, as I supposed, quite rid of it. 

"I had got out a little before we reached this house, two or threehundred steps. A brick wall runs along the footpath, and inside the wallis a hedge of yew, or some dark evergreen of that kind, and within thatagain the row of fine trees which you may have remarked as you came. 

"This brick wall is about as high as my shoulder, and happening to raisemy eyes I saw the monkey, with that stooping gait, on all fours, walkingor creeping, close beside me, on top of the wall. I stopped, looking atit with a feeling of loathing and horror. As I stopped so did it. It satup on the wall with its long hands on its knees looking at me. There wasnot light enough to see it much more than in outline, nor was it darkenough to bring the peculiar light of its eyes into strong relief. Istill saw, however, that red foggy light plainly enough. It did not showits teeth, nor exhibit any sign of irritation, but seemed jaded andsulky, and was observing me steadily. 

"I drew back into the middle of the road. It was an unconscious recoil, and there I stood, still looking at it. It did not move. 

"With an instinctive determination to try something--anything, I turnedabout and walked briskly towards town with askance look, all the time, watching the movements of the beast. It crept swiftly along the wall, atexactly my pace. 

"Where the wall ends, near the turn of the road, it came down, and witha wiry spring or two brought itself close to my feet, and continued tokeep up with me, as I quickened my pace. It was at my left side, soclose to my leg that I felt every moment as if I should tread upon it. 

"The road was quite deserted and silent, and it was darker every moment. I stopped dismayed and bewildered, turning as I did so, the other way--Imean, towards this house, away from which I had been walking. When Istood still, the monkey drew back to a distance of, I suppose, aboutfive or six yards, and remained stationary, watching me. 

"I had been more agitated than I have said. I had read, of course, aseveryone has, something about 'spectral illusions, ' as you physiciansterm the phenomena of such cases. I considered my situation, and lookedmy misfortune in the face. 

"These affections, I had read, are sometimes transitory and sometimesobstinate. I had read of cases in which the appearance, at firstharmless, had, step by step, degenerated into something direful andinsupportable, and ended by wearing its victim out. Still as I stoodthere, but for my bestial companion, quite alone, I tried to comfortmyself by repeating again and again the assurance, 'the thing is purelydisease, a well-known physical affection, as distinctly as small-pox orneuralgia. Doctors are all agreed on that, philosophy demonstrates it. Imust not be a fool. I've been sitting up too late, and I daresay mydigestion is quite wrong, and, with God's help, I shall be all right, and this is but a symptom of nervous dyspepsia. ' Did I believe all this?Not one word of it, no more than any other miserable being ever did whois once seized and riveted in this satanic captivity. Against myconvictions, I might say my knowledge, I was simply bullying myself intoa false courage. 

"I now walked homeward. I had only a few hundred yards to go. I hadforced myself into a sort of resignation, but I had not got over thesickening shock and the flurry of the first certainty of my misfortune. 

"I made up my mind to pass the night at home. The brute moved closebeside me, and I fancied there was the sort of anxious drawing towardthe house, which one sees in tired horses or dogs, sometimes as theycome toward home. 

"I was afraid to go into town, I was afraid of any one's seeing andrecognizing me. I was conscious of an irrepressible agitation in mymanner. Also, I was afraid of any violent change in my habits, such asgoing to a place of amusement, or walking from home in order to fatiguemyself. At the hall door it waited till I mounted the steps, and whenthe door was opened entered with me. 

"I drank no tea that night. I got cigars and some brandy and water. Myidea was that I should act upon my material system, and by living for awhile in sensation apart from thought, send myself forcibly, as it were, into a new groove. I came up here to this drawing-room. I sat just here. The monkey then got upon a small table that then stood _there_. Itlooked dazed and languid. An irrepressible uneasiness as to itsmovements kept my eyes always upon it. Its eyes were half closed, but Icould see them glow. It was looking steadily at me. In all situations, at all hours, it is awake and looking at me. That never changes. 

"I shall not continue in detail my narrative of this particular night. Ishall describe, rather, the phenomena of the first year, which nevervaried, essentially. I shall describe the monkey as it appeared indaylight. In the dark, as you shall presently hear, there arepeculiarities. It is a small monkey, perfectly black. It had only onepeculiarity--a character of malignity--unfathomable malignity. Duringthe first year it looked sullen and sick. But this character of intensemalice and vigilance was always underlying that surly languor. Duringall that time it acted as if on a plan of giving me as little trouble aswas consistent with watching me. Its eyes were never off me. I havenever lost sight of it, except in my sleep, light or dark, day or night, since it came here, excepting when it withdraws for some weeks at atime, unaccountably. 

"In total dark it is visible as in daylight. I do not mean merely itseyes. It is _all_ visible distinctly in a halo that resembles a glow ofred embers, and which accompanies it in all its movements. 

"When it leaves me for a time, it is always at night, in the dark, and in the same way. It grows at first uneasy, and then furious, andthen advances towards me, grinning and shaking, its paws clenched, and, at the same time, there comes the appearance of fire in the grate. Inever have any fire. I can't sleep in the room where there is any, andit draws nearer and nearer to the chimney, quivering, it seems, withrage, and when its fury rises to the highest pitch, it springs into thegrate, and up the chimney, and I see it no more. 

"When first this happened, I thought I was released. I was now a newman. A day passed--a night--and no return, and a blessed week--aweek--another week. I was always on my knees, Dr. Hesselius, always, thanking God and praying. A whole month passed of liberty, but on asudden, it was with me again. "

CHAPTER VIII

_The Second Stage_

"It was with me, and the malice which before was torpid under a sullenexterior, was now active. It was perfectly unchanged in every otherrespect. This new energy was apparent in its activity and its looks, andsoon in other ways. 

"For a time, you will understand, the change was shown only in anincreased vivacity, and an air of menace, as if it were always broodingover some atrocious plan. Its eyes, as before, were never off me. "

"Is it here now?" I asked. 

"No, " he replied, "it has been absent exactly a fortnight and aday--fifteen days. It has sometimes been away so long as nearly twomonths, once for three. Its absence always exceeds a fortnight, althoughit may be but by a single day. Fifteen days having past since I saw itlast, it may return now at any moment. "

"Is its return, " I asked, "accompanied by any peculiar manifestation?"

"Nothing--no, " he said. "It is simply with me again. On lifting my eyesfrom a book, or turning my head, I see it, as usual, looking at me, andthen it remains, as before, for its appointed time. I have never told somuch and so minutely before to any one. "

I perceived that he was agitated, and looking like death, and herepeatedly applied his handkerchief to his forehead; I suggested that hemight be tired, and told him that I would call, with pleasure, in themorning, but he said:

"No, if you don't mind hearing it all now. I have got so far, and Ishould prefer making one effort of it. When I spoke to Dr. Harley, I hadnothing like so much to tell. You are a philosophic physician. You givespirit its proper rank. If this thing is real--"

He paused looking at me with agitated inquiry. 

"We can discuss it by-and-by, and very fully. I will give you all Ithink, " I answered, after an interval. 

"Well--very well. If it is anything real, I say, it is prevailing, little by little, and drawing me more interiorly into hell. Opticnerves, he talked of. Ah! well--there are other nerves of communication. May God Almighty help me! You shall hear. 

"Its power of action, I tell you, had increased. Its malice became, in away, aggressive. About two years ago, some questions that were pendingbetween me and the bishop having been settled, I went down to my parishin Warwickshire, anxious to find occupation in my profession. I was notprepared for what happened, although I have since thought I might haveapprehended something like it. The reason of my saying so is this--"

He was beginning to speak with a great deal more effort and reluctance, and sighed often, and seemed at times nearly overcome. But at this timehis manner was not agitated. It was more like that of a sinking patient, who has given himself up. 

"Yes, but I will first tell you about Kenlis, my parish. 

"It was with me when I left this place for Dawlbridge. It was my silenttravelling companion, and it remained with me at the vicarage. When Ientered on the discharge of my duties, another change took place. Thething exhibited an atrocious determination to thwart me. It was with mein the church--in the reading-desk--in the pulpit--within the communionrails. At last, it reached this extremity, that while I was reading tothe congregation, it would spring upon the book and squat there, so thatI was unable to see the page. This happened more than once. 

"I left Dawlbridge for a time. I placed myself in Dr. Harley's hands. Idid everything he told me. He gave my case a great deal of thought. Itinterested him, I think. He seemed successful. For nearly three months Iwas perfectly free from a return. I began to think I was safe. With hisfull assent I returned to Dawlbridge. 

"I travelled in a chaise. I was in good spirits. I was more--I was happyand grateful. I was returning, as I thought, delivered from a dreadfulhallucination, to the scene of duties which I longed to enter upon. Itwas a beautiful sunny evening, everything looked serene and cheerful, and I was delighted. I remember looking out of the window to see thespire of my church at Kenlis among the trees, at the point where one hasthe earliest view of it. It is exactly where the little stream thatbounds the parish passes under the road by a culvert, and where itemerges at the road-side, a stone with an old inscription is placed. Aswe passed this point, I drew my head in and sat down, and in the cornerof the chaise was the monkey. 

"For a moment I felt faint, and then quite wild with despair and horror. I called to the driver, and got out, and sat down at the road-side, andprayed to God silently for mercy. A despairing resignation supervened. My companion was with me as I re-entered the vicarage. The samepersecution followed. After a short struggle I submitted, and soon Ileft the place. 

"I told you, " he said, "that the beast has before this become in certainways aggressive. I will explain a little. It seemed to be actuated byintense and increasing fury, whenever I said my prayers, or evenmeditated prayer. It amounted at last to a dreadful interruption. Youwill ask, how could a silent immaterial phantom effect that? It wasthus, whenever I meditated praying; It was always before me, and nearerand nearer. 

"It used to spring on a table, on the back of a chair, on thechimney-piece, and slowly to swing itself from side to side, looking at meall the time. There is in its motion an indefinable power to dissipatethought, and to contract one's attention to that monotony, till theideas shrink, as it were, to a point, and at last to nothing--and unlessI had started up, and shook off the catalepsy I have felt as if my mindwere on the point of losing itself. There are other ways, " he sighedheavily; "thus, for instance, while I pray with my eyes closed, it comescloser and closer, and I see it. I know it is not to be accounted forphysically, but I do actually see it, though my lids are dosed, and soit rocks my mind, as it were, and overpowers me, and I am obliged torise from my knees. If you had ever yourself known this, you would beacquainted with desperation. "

CHAPTER IX

_The Third Stage_

"I see, Dr. Hesselius, that you don't lose one word of my statement. Ineed not ask you to listen specially to what I am now going to tell you. They talk of the optic nerves, and of spectral illusions, as if theorgan of sight was the only point assailable by the influences that havefastened upon me--I know better. For two years in my direful case thatlimitation prevailed. But as food is taken in softly at the lips, andthen brought under the teeth, as the tip of the little finger caught ina mill crank will draw in the hand, and the arm, and the whole body, sothe miserable mortal who has been once caught firmly by the end of thefinest fibre of his nerve, is drawn in and in, by the enormous machineryof hell, until he is as I am. Yes, Doctor, as _I_ am, for a while I talkto you, and implore relief, I feel that my prayer is for the impossible, and my pleading with the inexorable. "

I endeavoured to calm his visibly increasing agitation, and told himthat he must not despair. 

While we talked the night had overtaken us. The filmy moonlight was wideover the scene which the window commanded, and I said:

"Perhaps you would prefer having candles. This light, you know, is odd. I should wish you, as much as possible, under your usual conditionswhile I make my diagnosis, shall I call it--otherwise I don't care. "

"All lights are the same to me, " he said; "except when I read or write, I care not if night were perpetual. I am going to tell you what happenedabout a year ago. The thing began to speak to me. "

"Speak! How do you mean--speak as a man does, do you mean?"

"Yes; speak in words and consecutive sentences, with perfect coherenceand articulation; but there is a peculiarity. It is not like the tone ofa human voice. It is not by my ears it reaches me--it comes like asinging through my head. 

"This faculty, the power of speaking to me, will be my undoing. It won'tlet me pray, it interrupts me with dreadful blasphemies. I dare not goon, I could not. Oh! Doctor, can the skill, and thought, and prayers ofman avail me nothing!"

"You must promise me, my dear sir, not to trouble yourself withunnecessarily exciting thoughts; confine yourself strictly to thenarrative of _facts_; and recollect, above all, that even if the thingthat infests you be, you seem to suppose a reality with an actualindependent life and will, yet it can have no power to hurt you, unlessit be given from above: its access to your senses depends mainly uponyour physical condition--this is, under God, your comfort and reliance:we are all alike environed. It is only that in your case, the_'paries, '_ the veil of the flesh, the screen, is a little out ofrepair, and sights and sounds are transmitted. We must enter on a newcourse, sir, --be encouraged. I'll give to-night to the carefulconsideration of the whole case. "

"You are very good, sir; you think it worth trying, you don't give mequite up; but, sir, you don't know, it is gaining such an influence overme: it orders me about, it is such a tyrant, and I'm growing sohelpless. May God deliver me!"

"It orders you about--of course you mean by speech?"

"Yes, yes; it is always urging me to crimes, to injure others, ormyself. You see, Doctor, the situation is urgent, it is indeed. When Iwas in Shropshire, a few weeks ago" (Mr. Jennings was speaking rapidlyand trembling now, holding my arm with one hand, and looking in myface), "I went out one day with a party of friends for a walk: mypersecutor, I tell you, was with me at the time. I lagged behind therest: the country near the Dee, you know, is beautiful. Our pathhappened to lie near a coal mine, and at the verge of the wood is aperpendicular shaft, they say, a hundred and fifty feet deep. My niecehad remained behind with me--she knows, of course nothing of the natureof my sufferings. She knew, however, that I had been ill, and was low, and she remained to prevent my being quite alone. As we loitered slowlyon together, the brute that accompanied me was urging me to throw myselfdown the shaft. I tell you now--oh, sir, think of it!--the oneconsideration that saved me from that hideous death was the fear lestthe shock of witnessing the occurrence should be too much for the poorgirl. I asked her to go on and walk with her friends, saying that Icould go no further. She made excuses, and the more I urged her thefirmer she became. She looked doubtful and frightened. I suppose therewas something in my looks or manner that alarmed her; but she would notgo, and that literally saved me. You had no idea, sir, that a living mancould be made so abject a slave of Satan, " he said, with a ghastly groanand a shudder. 

There was a pause here, and I said, "You _were_ preserved nevertheless. It was the act of God. You are in His hands and in the power of no otherbeing: be therefore confident for the future. "

CHAPTER X

_Home_

I made him have candles lighted, and saw the room looking cheery andinhabited before I left him. I told him that he must regard his illnessstrictly as one dependent on physical, though _subtle_ physical causes. I told him that he had evidence of God's care and love in thedeliverance which he had just described, and that I had perceived withpain that he seemed to regard its peculiar features as indicating thathe had been delivered over to spiritual reprobation. Than such aconclusion nothing could be, I insisted, less warranted; and not onlyso, but more contrary to facts, as disclosed in his mysteriousdeliverance from that murderous influence during his Shropshireexcursion. First, his niece had been retained by his side without hisintending to keep her near him; and, secondly, there had been infusedinto his mind an irresistible repugnance to execute the dreadfulsuggestion in her presence. 

As I reasoned this point with him, Mr. Jennings wept. He seemedcomforted. One promise I exacted, which was that should the monkey atany time return, I should be sent for immediately; and, repeating myassurance that I would give neither time nor thought to any othersubject until I had thoroughly investigated his case, and that to-morrowhe should hear the result, I took my leave. 

Before getting into the carriage I told the servant that his master wasfar from well, and that he should make a point of frequently lookinginto his room. My own arrangements I made with a view to being quitesecure from interruption. 

I merely called at my lodgings, and with a travelling-desk and carpet-bag, set off in a hackney carriage for an inn about two miles out of town, called "The Horns, " a very quiet and comfortable house, with good thickwalls. And there I resolved, without the possibility of intrusionor distraction, to devote some hours of the night, in my comfortablesitting-room, to Mr. Jennings' case, and so much of the morning as itmight require. 

(There occurs here a careful note of Dr. Hesselius' opinion upon thecase, and of the habits, dietary, and medicines which he prescribed. Itis curious--some persons would say mystical. But, on the whole, I doubtwhether it would sufficiently interest a reader of the kind I am likelyto meet with, to warrant its being here reprinted. The whole letter wasplainly written at the inn where he had hid himself for the occasion. The next letter is dated from his town lodgings. )

I left town for the inn where I slept last night at half-past nine, anddid not arrive at my room in town until one o'clock this afternoon. Ifound a letter in Mr. Jennings' hand upon my table. It had not come bypost, and, on inquiry, I learned that Mr. Jennings' servant had broughtit, and on learning that I was not to return until to-day, and that noone could tell him my address, he seemed very uncomfortable, and saidhis orders from his master were that that he was not to return withoutan answer. 

I opened the letter and read:

 DEAR DR. HESSELIUS. --It is here. You had not been an hour gone when it returned. It is speaking. It knows all that has happened. It knows everything--it knows you, and is frantic and atrocious. It reviles. I send you this. It knows every word I have written--I write. This I promised, and I therefore write, but I fear very confused, very incoherently. I am so interrupted, disturbed. 

 Ever yours, sincerely yours, Robert Lynder Jennings. 

"When did this come?" I asked. 

"About eleven last night: the man was here again, and has been herethree times to-day. The last time is about an hour since. "

Thus answered, and with the notes I had made upon his case in my pocket, I was in a few minutes driving towards Richmond, to see Mr. Jennings. 

I by no means, as you perceive, despaired of Mr. Jennings' case. He hadhimself remembered and applied, though quite in a mistaken way, theprinciple which I lay down in my Metaphysical Medicine, and whichgoverns all such cases. I was about to apply it in earnest. I wasprofoundly interested, and very anxious to see and examine him while the"enemy" was actually present. 

I drove up to the sombre house, and ran up the steps, and knocked. Thedoor, in a little time, was opened by a tall woman in black silk. Shelooked ill, and as if she had been crying. She curtseyed, and heard myquestion, but she did not answer. She turned her face away, extendingher hand towards two men who were coming down-stairs; and thus having, as it were, tacitly made me over to them, she passed through a side-doorhastily and shut it. 

The man who was nearest the hall, I at once accosted, but being nowclose to him, I was shocked to see that both his hands were covered withblood. 

I drew back a little, and the man, passing downstairs, merely said in alow tone, "Here's the servant, sir. "

The servant had stopped on the stairs, confounded and dumb at seeing me. He was rubbing his hands in a handkerchief, and it was steeped in blood. 

"Jones, what is it? what has happened?" I asked, while a sickeningsuspicion overpowered me. 

The man asked me to come up to the lobby. I was beside him in a moment, and, frowning and pallid, with contracted eyes, he told me the horrorwhich I already half guessed. 

His master had made away with himself. 

I went upstairs with him to the room--what I saw there I won't tell you. He had cut his throat with his razor. It was a frightful gash. The twomen had laid him on the bed, and composed his limbs. It had happened, asthe immense pool of blood on the floor declared, at some distancebetween the bed and the window. There was carpet round his bed, and acarpet under his dressing-table, but none on the rest of the floor, forthe man said he did not like a carpet on his bedroom. In this sombre andnow terrible room, one of the great elms that darkened the house wasslowly moving the shadow of one of its great boughs upon this dreadfulfloor. 

I beckoned to the servant, and we went downstairs together. I turned offthe hall into an old-fashioned panelled room, and there standing, Iheard all the servant had to tell. It was not a great deal. 

"I concluded, sir, from your words, and looks, sir, as you left lastnight, that you thought my master was seriously ill. I thought it mightbe that you were afraid of a fit, or something. So I attended very closeto your directions. He sat up late, till past three o'clock. He was notwriting or reading. He was talking a great deal to himself, but that wasnothing unusual. At about that hour I assisted him to undress, and lefthim in his slippers and dressing-gown. I went back softly in abouthalf-an-hour. He was in his bed, quite undressed, and a pair of candleslighted on the table beside his bed. He was leaning on his elbow, andlooking out at the other side of the bed when I came in. I asked him ifhe wanted anything, and he said No. 

"I don't know whether it was what you said to me, sir, or something alittle unusual about him, but I was uneasy, uncommon uneasy about himlast night. 

"In another half hour, or it might be a little more, I went up again. Idid not hear him talking as before. I opened the door a little. Thecandles were both out, which was not usual. I had a bedroom candle, andI let the light in, a little bit, looking softly round. I saw himsitting in that chair beside the dressing-table with his clothes onagain. He turned round and looked at me. I thought it strange he shouldget up and dress, and put out the candles to sit in the dark, that way. But I only asked him again if I could do anything for him. He said, No, rather sharp, I thought. I asked him if I might light the candles, andhe said, 'Do as you like, Jones. ' So I lighted them, and I lingeredabout the room, and he said, 'Tell me truth, Jones; why did you comeagain--you did not hear anyone cursing?' 'No, sir, ' I said, wonderingwhat he could mean. 

"'No, ' said he, after me, 'of course, no;' and I said to him, 'Wouldn'tit be well, sir, you went to bed? It's just five o'clock;' and he saidnothing, but, 'Very likely; good-night, Jones. ' So I went, sir, but inless than an hour I came again. The door was fast, and he heard me, andcalled as I thought from the bed to know what I wanted, and he desiredme not to disturb him again. I lay down and slept for a little. It musthave been between six and seven when I went up again. The door was stillfast, and he made no answer, so I did not like to disturb him, andthinking he was asleep, I left him till nine. It was his custom to ringwhen he wished me to come, and I had no particular hour for calling him. I tapped very gently, and getting no answer, I stayed away a good while, supposing he was getting some rest then. It was not till eleven o'clockI grew really uncomfortable about him--for at the latest he was never, that I could remember, later than half-past ten. I got no answer. Iknocked and called, and still no answer. So not being able to force thedoor, I called Thomas from the stables, and together we forced it, andfound him in the shocking way you saw. "

Jones had no more to tell. Poor Mr. Jennings was very gentle, and verykind. All his people were fond of him. I could see that the servant wasvery much moved. 

So, dejected and agitated, I passed from that terrible house, and itsdark canopy of elms, and I hope I shall never see it more. While I writeto you I feel like a man who has but half waked from a frightful andmonotonous dream. My memory rejects the picture with incredulity andhorror. Yet I know it is true. It is the story of the process of apoison, a poison which excites the reciprocal action of spirit andnerve, and paralyses the tissue that separates those cognate functionsof the senses, the external and the interior. Thus we find strangebed-fellows, and the mortal and immortal prematurely make acquaintance. 

CONCLUSION

_A Word for Those Who Suffer_

My dear Van L----, you have suffered from an affection similar to thatwhich I have just described. You twice complained of a return of it. 

Who, under God, cured you? Your humble servant, Martin Hesselius. Let merather adopt the more emphasised piety of a certain good old Frenchsurgeon of three hundred years ago: "I treated, and God cured you. "

Come, my friend, you are not to be hippish. Let me tell you a fact. 

I have met with, and treated, as my book shows, fifty-seven cases ofthis kind of vision, which I term indifferently "sublimated, ""precocious, " and "interior. "

There is another class of affections which are truly termed--thoughcommonly confounded with those which I describe--spectral illusions. These latter I look upon as being no less simply curable than a cold inthe head or a trifling dyspepsia. 

It is those which rank in the first category that test our promptitudeof thought. Fifty-seven such cases have I encountered, neither more norless. And in how many of these have I failed? In no one single instance. 

There is no one affliction of mortality more easily and certainlyreducible, with a little patience, and a rational confidence in thephysician. With these simple conditions, I look upon the cure asabsolutely certain. 

You are to remember that I had not even commenced to treat Mr. Jennings'case. I have not any doubt that I should have cured him perfectly ineighteen months, or possibly it might have extended to two years. Somecases are very rapidly curable, others extremely tedious. Everyintelligent physician who will give thought and diligence to the task, will effect a cure. 

You know my tract on "The Cardinal Functions of the Brain. " I there, bythe evidence of innumerable facts, prove, as I think, the highprobability of a circulation arterial and venous in its mechanism, through the nerves. Of this system, thus considered, the brain is theheart. The fluid, which is propagated hence through one class of nerves, returns in an altered state through another, and the nature of thatfluid is spiritual, though not immaterial, any more than, as I beforeremarked, light or electricity are so. 

By various abuses, among which the habitual use of such agents as greentea is one, this fluid may be affected as to its quality, but it is morefrequently disturbed as to equilibrium. This fluid being that which wehave in common with spirits, a congestion found upon the masses of brainor nerve, connected with the interior sense, forms a surface undulyexposed, on which disembodied spirits may operate: communication is thusmore or less effectually established. Between this brain circulation andthe heart circulation there is an intimate sympathy. The seat, or ratherthe instrument of exterior vision, is the eye. The seat of interiorvision is the nervous tissue and brain, immediately about and above theeyebrow. You remember how effectually I dissipated your pictures by thesimple application of iced eau-de-cologne. Few cases, however, can betreated exactly alike with anything like rapid success. Cold actspowerfully as a repellant of the nervous fluid. Long enough continued itwill even produce that permanent insensibility which we call numbness, and a little longer, muscular as well as sensational paralysis. 

I have not, I repeat, the slightest doubt that I should have firstdimmed and ultimately sealed that inner eye which Mr. Jennings hadinadvertently opened. The same senses are opened in delirium tremens, and entirely shut up again when the overaction of the cerebral heart, and the prodigious nervous congestions that attend it, are terminated bya decided change in the state of the body. It is by acting steadily uponthe body, by a simple process, that this result is produced--andinevitably produced--I have never yet failed. 

Poor Mr. Jennings made away with himself. But that catastrophe was theresult of a totally different malady, which, as it were, projecteditself upon the disease which was established. His case was in thedistinctive manner a complication, and the complaint under which hereally succumbed, was hereditary suicidal mania. Poor Mr. Jennings Icannot call a patient of mine, for I had not even begun to treat hiscase, and he had not yet given me, I am convinced, his full andunreserved confidence. If the patient do not array himself on the sideof the disease, his cure is certain. 

 * * * * *

MR. JUSTICE HARBOTTLE

PROLOGUE

On this case Doctor Hesselius has inscribed nothing more than the words, "Harman's Report, " and a simple reference to his own extraordinary Essayon "The Interior Sense, and the Conditions of the Opening thereof. "

The reference is to Vol. I. , Section 317, Note Z^{a}. The note to whichreference is thus made, simply says: "There are two accounts of theremarkable case of the Honourable Mr. Justice Harbottle, one furnishedto me by Mrs. Trimmer, of Tunbridge Wells (June, 1805); the other at amuch later date, by Anthony Harman, Esq. I much prefer the former; inthe first place, because it is minute and detailed, and written, itseems to me, with more caution and knowledge; and in the next, becausethe letters from Dr. Hedstone, which are embodied in it, furnish matterof the highest value to a right apprehension of the nature of the case. It was one of the best declared cases of an opening of the interiorsense, which I have met with. It was affected too, by the phenomenon, which occurs so frequently as to indicate a law of these eccentricconditions; that is to say, it exhibited what I may term, the contagiouscharacter of this sort of intrusion of the spirit-world upon the properdomain of matter. So soon as the spirit-action has established itself inthe case of one patient, its developed energy begins to radiate, more orless effectually, upon others. The interior vision of the child wasopened; as was, also, that of its mother, Mrs. Pyneweck; and both theinterior vision and hearing of the scullery-maid, were opened on thesame occasion. After-appearances are the result of the law explained inVol. II. , Section 17 to 49. The common centre of association, simultaneously recalled, unites, or _re_unites, as the case may be, for aperiod measured, as we see, in Section 37. The _maximum_ will extend todays, the _minimum_ is little more than a second. We see the operationof this principle perfectly displayed, in certain cases of lunacy, ofepilepsy, of catalepsy, and of mania, of a peculiar and painfulcharacter, though unattended by incapacity of business. "

The memorandum of the case of Judge Harbottle, which was written by Mrs. Trimmer, of Tunbridge Wells, which Doctor Hesselius thought the betterof the two, I have been unable to discover among his papers. I found inhis escritoire a note to the effect that he had lent the Report of JudgeHarbottle's case, written by Mrs. Trimmer, to Dr. F. Heyne. To thatlearned and able gentleman accordingly I wrote, and received from him, in his reply, which was full of alarms and regrets, on account of theuncertain safety of that "valuable MS. , " a line written long since byDr. Hesselius, which completely exonerated him, inasmuch as itacknowledged the safe return of the papers. The narrative of Mr. Harman, is therefore, the only one available for this collection. The late Dr. Hesselius, in another passage of the note that I have cited, says, "Asto the facts (non-medical) of the case, the narrative of Mr. Harmanexactly tallies with that furnished by Mrs. Trimmer. " The strictlyscientific view of the case would scarcely interest the popular reader;and, possibly, for the purposes of this selection, I should, even had Iboth papers to choose between, have preferred that of Mr. Harman, whichis given, in full, in the following pages. 

CHAPTER I

_The Judge's House_

Thirty years ago, an elderly man, to whom I paid quarterly a smallannuity charged on some property of mine, came on the quarter-day toreceive it. He was a dry, sad, quiet man, who had known better days, andhad always maintained an unexceptionable character. No better authoritycould be imagined for a ghost story. 

He told me one, though with a manifest reluctance; he was drawn into thenarration by his choosing to explain what I should not have remarked, that he had called two days earlier than that week after the strict dayof payment, which he had usually allowed to elapse. His reason was asudden determination to change his lodgings, and the consequentnecessity of paying his rent a little before it was due. 

He lodged in a dark street in Westminster, in a spacious old house, verywarm, being wainscoted from top to bottom, and furnished with no undueabundance of windows, and those fitted with thick sashes and smallpanes. 

This house was, as the bills upon the windows testified, offered to besold or let. But no one seemed to care to look at it. 

A thin matron, in rusty black silk, very taciturn, with large, steady, alarmed eyes, that seemed to look in your face, to read what you mighthave seen in the dark rooms and passages through which you had passed, was in charge of it, with a solitary "maid-of-all-work" under hercommand. My poor friend had taken lodgings in this house, on account oftheir extraordinary cheapness. He had occupied them for nearly a yearwithout the slightest disturbance, and was the only tenant, under rent, in the house. He had two rooms; a sitting-room and a bed-room with acloset opening from it, in which he kept his books and papers locked up. He had gone to his bed, having also locked the outer door. Unable tosleep, he had lighted a candle, and after having read for a time, hadlaid the book beside him. He heard the old clock at the stairhead strikeone; and very shortly after, to his alarm, he saw the closet-door, whichhe thought he had locked, open stealthily, and a slight dark man, particularly sinister, and somewhere about fifty, dressed in mourning ofa very antique fashion, such a suit as we see in Hogarth, entered theroom on tip-toe. He was followed by an elder man, stout, and blotchedwith scurvy, and whose features, fixed as a corpse's, were stamped withdreadful force with a character of sensuality and villany. 

This old man wore a flowered silk dressing-gown and ruffles, and heremarked a gold ring on his finger, and on his head a cap of velvet, such as, in the days of perukes, gentlemen wore in undress. 

This direful old man carried in his ringed and ruffled hand a coil ofrope; and these two figures crossed the floor diagonally, passing thefoot of his bed, from the closet door at the farther end of the room, atthe left, near the window, to the door opening upon the lobby, close tothe bed's head, at his right. 

He did not attempt to describe his sensations as these figures passed sonear him. He merely said, that so far from sleeping in that room again, no consideration the world could offer would induce him so much as toenter it again alone, even in the daylight. He found both doors, that ofthe closet, and that of the room opening upon the lobby, in the morningfast locked as he had left them before going to bed. 

[Illustration: _These two figures crossed the floor diagonally, passingthe foot of the bed. _]

In answer to a question of mine, he said that neither appearedthe least conscious of his presence. They did not seem to glide, butwalked as living men do, but without any sound, and he felt a vibrationon the floor as they crossed it. He so obviously suffered from speakingabout the apparitions, that I asked him no more questions. 

There were in his description, however, certain coincidences so verysingular, as to induce me, by that very post, to write to a friend muchmy senior, then living in a remote part of England, for the informationwhich I knew he could give me. He had himself more than once pointed outthat old house to my attention, and told me, though very briefly, thestrange story which I now asked him to give me in greater detail. 

His answer satisfied me; and the following pages convey its substance. 

Your letter (he wrote) tells me you desire some particulars about theclosing years of the life of Mr. Justice Harbottle, one of the judges ofthe Court of Common Pleas. You refer, of course, to the extraordinaryoccurrences that made that period of his life long after a theme for"winter tales" and metaphysical speculation. I happen to know perhapsmore than any other man living of those mysterious particulars. 

The old family mansion, when I revisited London, more than thirty yearsago, I examined for the last time. During the years that have passedsince then, I hear that improvement, with its preliminary demolitions, has been doing wonders for the quarter of Westminster in which it stood. If I were quite certain that the house had been taken down, I shouldhave no difficulty about naming the street in which it stood. As what Ihave to tell, however, is not likely to improve its letting value, andas I should not care to get into trouble, I prefer being silent on thatparticular point. 

How old the house was, I can't tell. People said it was built by RogerHarbottle, a Turkey merchant, in the reign of King James I. I am not agood opinion upon such questions; but having been in it, though in itsforlorn and deserted state, I can tell you in a general way what it waslike. It was built of dark-red brick, and the door and windows werefaced with stone that had turned yellow by time. It receded some feetfrom the line of the other houses in the street; and it had a florid andfanciful rail of iron about the broad steps that invited your ascent tothe hall-door, in which were fixed, under a file of lamps among scrollsand twisted leaves, two immense "extinguishers, " like the conical capsof fairies, into which, in old times, the footmen used to thrust theirflambeaux when their chairs or coaches had set down their great people, in the hall or at the steps, as the case might be. That hall is panelledup to the ceiling, and has a large fire-place. Two or three stately oldrooms open from it at each side. The windows of these are tall, withmany small panes. Passing through the arch at the back of the hall, youcome upon the wide and heavy well-staircase. There is a back staircasealso. The mansion is large, and has not as much light, by any means, inproportion to its extent, as modern houses enjoy. When I saw it, it hadlong been untenanted, and had the gloomy reputation beside of a hauntedhouse. Cobwebs floated from the ceilings or spanned the corners of thecornices, and dust lay thick over everything. The windows were stainedwith the dust and rain of fifty years, and darkness had thus growndarker. 

When I made it my first visit, it was in company with my father, when Iwas still a boy, in the year 1808. I was about twelve years old, and myimagination impressible, as it always is at that age. I looked about mewith great awe. I was here in the very centre and scene of thoseoccurrences which I had heard recounted at the fireside at home, with sodelightful a horror. 

My father was an old bachelor of nearly sixty when he married. He had, when a child, seen Judge Harbottle on the bench in his robes and wig adozen times at least before his death, which took place in 1748, and hisappearance made a powerful and unpleasant impression, not only on hisimagination, but upon his nerves. 

The Judge was at that time a man of some sixty-seven years. He had agreat mulberry-coloured face, a big, carbuncled nose, fierce eyes, and agrim and brutal mouth. My father, who was young at the time, thought itthe most formidable face he had ever seen; for there were evidences ofintellectual power in the formation and lines of the forehead. His voicewas loud and harsh, and gave effect to the sarcasm which was hishabitual weapon on the bench. 

This old gentleman had the reputation of being about the wickedest manin England. Even on the bench he now and then showed his scorn ofopinion. He had carried cases his own way, it was said, in spite ofcounsel, authorities, and even of juries, by a sort of cajolery, violence, and bamboozling, that somehow confused and overpoweredresistance. He had never actually committed himself; he was too cunningto do that. He had the character of being, however, a dangerous andunscrupulous judge; but his character did not trouble him. Theassociates he chose for his hours of relaxation cared as little as hedid about it. 

CHAPTER II

_Mr. Peters_

One night during the session of 1746 this old Judge went down in hischair to wait in one of the rooms of the House of Lords for the resultof a division in which he and his order were interested. 

This over, he was about to return to his house close by, in his chair;but the night had become so soft and fine that he changed his mind, sentit home empty, and with two footmen, each with a flambeau, set out onfoot in preference. Gout had made him rather a slow pedestrian. It tookhim some time to get through the two or three streets he had to passbefore reaching his house. 

In one of those narrow streets of tall houses, perfectly silent at thathour, he overtook, slowly as he was walking, a very singular-looking oldgentleman. 

He had a bottle-green coat on, with a cape to it, and large stonebuttons, a broad-leafed low-crowned hat, from under which a big powderedwig escaped; he stooped very much, and supported his bending knees withthe aid of a crutch-handled cane, and so shuffled and tottered alongpainfully. 

"I ask your pardon, sir, " said this old man, in a very quavering voice, as the burly Judge came up with him, and he extended his hand feeblytowards his arm. 

Mr. Justice Harbottle saw that the man was by no means poorly dressed, and his manner that of a gentleman. 

The Judge stopped short, and said, in his harsh peremptory tones, "Well, sir, how can I serve you?"

"Can you direct me to Judge Harbottle's house? I have some intelligenceof the very last importance to communicate to him. "

"Can you tell it before witnesses?" asked the Judge. 

"By no means; it must reach _his_ ear only, " quavered the old manearnestly. 

"If that be so, sir, you have only to accompany me a few steps fartherto reach my house, and obtain a private audience; for I am JudgeHarbottle. "

With this invitation the infirm gentleman in the white wig complied veryreadily; and in another minute the stranger stood in what was thentermed the front parlour of the Judge's house, _tête-à-tête_ with thatshrewd and dangerous functionary. 

He had to sit down, being very much exhausted, and unable for a littletime to speak; and then he had a fit of coughing, and after that a fitof gasping; and thus two or three minutes passed, during which the Judgedropped his roquelaure on an arm-chair, and threw his cocked-hat overthat. 

The venerable pedestrian in the white wig quickly recovered his voice. With closed doors they remained together for some time. 

There were guests waiting in the drawing-rooms, and the sound of men'svoices laughing, and then of a female voice singing to a harpsichord, were heard distinctly in the hall over the stairs; for old Judge Harbottlehad arranged one of his dubious jollifications, such as might well makethe hair of godly men's heads stand upright for that night. 

This old gentleman in the powdered white wig, that rested on his stoopedshoulders, must have had something to say that interested the Judge verymuch; for he would not have parted on easy terms with the ten minutesand upwards which that conference filched from the sort of revelry inwhich he most delighted, and in which he was the roaring king, and insome sort the tyrant also, of his company. 

The footman who showed the aged gentleman out observed that the Judge'smulberry-coloured face, pimples and all, were bleached to a dingyyellow, and there was the abstraction of agitated thought in his manner, as he bid the stranger good-night. The servant saw that the conversationhad been of serious import, and that the Judge was frightened. 

Instead of stumping upstairs forthwith to his scandalous hilarities, hisprofane company, and his great china bowl of punch--the identical bowlfrom which a bygone Bishop of London, good easy man, had baptised thisJudge's grandfather, now clinking round the rim with silver ladles, andhung with scrolls of lemon-peel--instead, I say, of stumping andclambering up the great staircase to the cavern of his Circeanenchantment, he stood with his big nose flattened against the window-pane, watching the progress of the feeble old man, who clung stiffly tothe iron rail as he got down, step by step, to the pavement. 

The hall-door had hardly closed, when the old Judge was in the hallbawling hasty orders, with such stimulating expletives as old colonelsunder excitement sometimes indulge in now-a-days, with a stamp or two ofhis big foot, and a waving of his clenched fist in the air. He commandedthe footman to overtake the old gentleman in the white wig, to offer himhis protection on his way home, and in no case to show his face againwithout having ascertained where he lodged, and who he was, and allabout him. 

"By ---, sirrah! if you fail me in this, you doff my livery to-night!"

Forth bounced the stalwart footman, with his heavy cane under his arm, and skipped down the steps, and looked up and down the street after thesingular figure, so easy to recognize. 

What were his adventures I shall not tell you just now. 

The old man, in the conference to which he had been admitted in thatstately panelled room, had just told the Judge a very strange story. Hemight be himself a conspirator; he might possibly be crazed; or possiblyhis whole story was straight and true. 

The aged gentleman in the bottle-green coat, in finding himself alonewith Mr. Justice Harbottle, had become agitated. He said, "There is, perhaps you are not aware, my lord, a prisoner in Shrewsburyjail, charged with having forged a bill of exchange for a hundred andtwenty pounds, and his name is Lewis Pyneweck, a grocer of that town. "

"Is there?" says the Judge, who knew well that there was. 

"Yes, my lord, " says the old man. 

"Then you had better say nothing to affect this case. If you do, by---, I'll commit you! for I'm to try it, " says the judge, with histerrible look and tone. 

"I am not going to do anything of the kind, my lord; of him or his caseI know nothing, and care nothing. But a fact has come to my knowledgewhich it behoves you to well consider. "

"And what may that fact be?" inquired the Judge; "I'm in haste, sir, andbeg you will use dispatch. "

"It has come to my knowledge, my lord, that a secret tribunal is inprocess of formation, the object of which is to take cognisance of theconduct of the judges; and first, of _your_ conduct, my lord; it is awicked conspiracy. "

"Who are of it?" demands the Judge. 

"I know not a single name as yet. I know but the fact, my lord; it ismost certainly true. "

"I'll have you before the Privy Council, sir, " says the Judge. 

"That is what I most desire; but not for a day or two, my lord. "

"And why so?"

"I have not as yet a single name, as I told your lordship; but I expectto have a list of the most forward men in it, and some other papersconnected with the plot, in two or three days. "

"You said one or two just now. "

"About that time, my lord. "

"Is this a Jacobite plot?"

"In the main I think it is, my lord. "

"Why, then, it is political. I have tried no State prisoners, nor amlike to try any such. How, then, doth it concern me?"

"From what I can gather, my lord, there are those in it who desireprivate revenges upon certain judges. "

"What do they call their cabal?"

"The High Court of Appeal, my lord. "

"Who are you, sir? What is your name?"

"Hugh Peters, my lord. "

"That should be a Whig name?"

"It is, my lord. " "Where do you lodge, Mr. Peters?"

"In Thames Street, my lord, over against the sign of the 'Three Kings. '"

"'Three Kings?' Take care one be not too many for you, Mr. Peters! Howcome you, an honest Whig, as you say, to be privy to a Jacobite plot?Answer me that. "

"My lord, a person in whom I take an interest has been seduced to take apart in it; and being frightened at the unexpected wickedness of theirplans, he is resolved to become an informer for the Crown. "

"He resolves like a wise man, sir. What does he say of the persons? Whoare in the plot? Doth he know them?"

"Only two, my lord; but he will be introduced to the club in a few days, and he will then have a list, and more exact information of their plans, and above all of their oaths, and their hours and places of meeting, with which he wishes to be acquainted before they can have anysuspicions of his intentions. And being so informed, to whom, think you, my lord, had he best go then?"

"To the king's attorney-general straight. But you say this concerns me, sir, in particular? How about this prisoner, Lewis Pyneweck? Is he oneof them?"

"I can't tell, my lord; but for some reason, it is thought your lordshipwill be well advised if you try him not. For if you do, it is feared'twill shorten your days. "

"So far as I can learn, Mr. Peters, this business smells pretty strongof blood and treason. The king's attorney-general will know how to dealwith it. When shall I see you again, sir?"

"If you give me leave, my lord, either before your lordship's courtsits, or after it rises, to-morrow. I should like to come and tell yourlordship what has passed. "

"Do so, Mr. Peters, at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. And see you playme no trick, sir, in this matter; if you do, by ---, sir, I'll lay youby the heels!"

"You need fear no trick from me, my lord; had I not wished to serve you, and acquit my own conscience, I never would have come all this way totalk with your lordship. "

"I'm willing to believe you, Mr. Peters; I'm willing to believe you, sir. "

And upon this they parted. 

"He has either painted his face, or he is consumedly sick, " thought theold Judge. 

The light had shown more effectually upon his features as he turned toleave the room with a low bow, and they looked, he fancied, unnaturallychalky. 

"D--- him!" said the Judge ungraciously, as he began to scale thestairs: "he has half-spoiled my supper. "

But if he had, no one but the Judge himself perceived it, and theevidence was all, as any one might perceive, the other way. 

CHAPTER III

_Lewis Pyneweck_

In the meantime the footman dispatched in pursuit of Mr. Petersspeedily overtook that feeble gentleman. The old man stopped when heheard the sound of pursuing steps, but any alarms that may have crossedhis mind seemed to disappear on his recognizing the livery. He verygratefully accepted the proffered assistance, and placed his tremulousarm within the servant's for support. They had not gone far, however, when the old man stopped suddenly, saying, "Dear me! as I live, I have dropped it. You heard it fall. My eyes, Ifear, won't serve me, and I'm unable to stoop low enough; but if _you_will look, you shall have half the find. It is a guinea; I carried it inmy glove. "

The street was silent and deserted. The footman had hardly descended towhat he termed his "hunkers, " and begun to search the pavement about thespot which the old man indicated, when Mr. Peters, who seemed very muchexhausted, and breathed with difficulty, struck him a violent blow, fromabove, over the back of the head with a heavy instrument, and thenanother; and leaving him bleeding and senseless in the gutter, ran likea lamplighter down a lane to the right, and was gone. 

When an hour later, the watchman brought the man in livery home, stillstupid and covered with blood, Judge Harbottle cursed his servantroundly, swore he was drunk, threatened him with an indictment fortaking bribes to betray his master, and cheered him with a perspectiveof the broad street leading from the Old Bailey to Tyburn, the cart'stail, and the hangman's lash. 

Notwithstanding this demonstration, the Judge was pleased. It was adisguised "affidavit man, " or footpad, no doubt, who had been employedto frighten him. The trick had fallen through. 

A "court of appeal, " such as the false Hugh Peters had indicated, withassassination for its sanction, would be an uncomfortable institutionfor a "hanging judge" like the Honourable Justice Harbottle. Thatsarcastic and ferocious administrator of the criminal code of England, at that time a rather pharisaical, bloody and heinous system of justice, had reasons of his own for choosing to try that very Lewis Pyneweck, onwhose behalf this audacious trick was devised. Try him he would. No manliving should take that morsel out of his mouth. 

Of Lewis Pyneweck, of course, so far as the outer world could see, heknew nothing. He would try him after his fashion, without fear, favour, or affection. 

But did he not remember a certain thin man, dressed in mourning, inwhose house, in Shrewsbury, the Judge's lodgings used to be, until ascandal of ill-treating his wife came suddenly to light? A grocer with ademure look, a soft step, and a lean face as dark as mahogany, with anose sharp and long, standing ever so little awry, and a pair of darksteady brown eyes under thinly-traced black brows--a man whose thin lipswore always a faint unpleasant smile. 

Had not that scoundrel an account to settle with the Judge? had he notbeen troublesome lately? and was not his name Lewis Pyneweck, some timegrocer in Shrewsbury, and now prisoner in the jail of that town?

The reader may take it, if he pleases, as a sign that Judge Harbottlewas a good Christian, that he suffered nothing ever from remorse. Thatwas undoubtedly true. He had, nevertheless, done this grocer, forger, what you will, some five or six years before, a grievous wrong; but itwas not that, but a possible scandal, and possible complications, thattroubled the learned Judge now. 

Did he not, as a lawyer, know, that to bring a man from his shop to thedock, the chances must be at least ninety-nine out of a hundred that heis guilty?

A weak man like his learned brother Withershins was not a judge to keepthe high-roads safe, and make crime tremble. Old Judge Harbottle was theman to make the evil-disposed quiver, and to refresh the world withshowers of wicked blood, and thus save the innocent, to the refrain ofthe ancient saw he loved to quote:

 Foolish pity Ruins a city. 

In hanging that fellow he could not be wrong. The eye of a manaccustomed to look upon the dock could not fail to read "villain"written sharp and clear in his plotting face. Of course he would tryhim, and no one else should. 

A saucy-looking woman, still handsome, in a mob-cap gay with blueribbons, in a saque of flowered silk, with lace and rings on, much toofine for the Judge's housekeeper, which nevertheless she was, peepedinto his study next morning, and, seeing the Judge alone, stepped in. 

"Here's another letter from him, come by the post this morning. Can'tyou do nothing for him?" she said wheedlingly, with her arm over hisneck, and her delicate finger and thumb fiddling with the lobe of hispurple ear. 

"I'll try, " said Judge Harbottle, not raising his eyes from the paper hewas reading. 

"I knew you'd do what I asked you, " she said. 

The Judge clapt his gouty claw over his heart, and made her an ironicalbow. 

"What, " she asked, "will you do?"

"Hang him, " said the Judge with a chuckle. 

"You don't mean to; no, you don't, my little man, " said she, surveyingherself in a mirror on the wall. 

"I'm d----d but I think you're falling in love with your husband atlast!" said Judge Harbottle. 

"I'm blest but I think you're growing jealous of him, " replied the ladywith a laugh. "But no; he was always a bad one to me; I've done with himlong ago. "

"And he with you, by George! When he took your fortune, and your spoons, and your ear-rings, he had all he wanted of you. He drove you from hishouse; and when he discovered you had made yourself comfortable, andfound a good situation, he'd have taken your guineas, and your silver, and your ear-rings over again, and then allowed you half-a-dozen yearsmore to make a new harvest for his mill. You don't wish him good; if yousay you do, you lie. "

She laughed a wicked, saucy laugh, and gave the terrible Rhadamanthus aplayful tap on the chops. 

"He wants me to send him money to fee a counsellor, " she said, while hereyes wandered over the pictures on the wall, and back again to thelooking-glass; and certainly she did not look as if his jeopardytroubled her very much. 

"Confound his impudence, the _scoundrel_!" thundered the old Judge, throwing himself back in his chair, as he used to do _in furore_ on thebench, and the lines of his mouth looked brutal, and his eyes ready toleap from their sockets. "If you answer his letter from my house toplease yourself, you'll write your next from somebody else's to pleaseme. You understand, my pretty witch, I'll not be pestered. Come, nopouting; whimpering won't do. You don't care a brass farthing for thevillain, body or soul. You came here but to make a row. You are one ofMother Carey's chickens; and where you come, the storm is up. Get yougone, baggage! get you _gone_!" he repeated, with a stamp; for a knockat the hall-door made her instantaneous disappearance indispensable. 

I need hardly say that the venerable Hugh Peters did not appear again. The Judge never mentioned him. But oddly enough, considering how helaughed to scorn the weak invention which he had blown into dust at thevery first puff, his white-wigged visitor and the conference in the darkfront parlour were often in his memory. 

His shrewd eye told him that allowing for change of tints and suchdisguises as the playhouse affords every night, the features of thisfalse old man, who had turned out too hard for his tall footman, wereidentical with those of Lewis Pyneweck. 

Judge Harbottle made his registrar call upon the crown solicitor, andtell him that there was a man in town who bore a wonderful resemblanceto a prisoner in Shrewsbury jail named Lewis Pyneweck, and to makeinquiry through the post forthwith whether any one was personatingPyneweck in prison and whether he had thus or otherwise made his escape. 

The prisoner was safe, however, and no question as to his identity. 

CHAPTER IV

_Interruption in Court_

In due time Judge Harbottle went circuit; and in due time the judgeswere in Shrewsbury. News travelled slowly in those days, and newspapers, like the wagons and stage coaches, took matters easily. Mrs. Pyneweck, in the Judge's house, with a diminished household--the greater part ofthe Judge's servants having gone with him, for he had given up ridingcircuit, and travelled in his coach in state--kept house rathersolitarily at home. 

In spite of quarrels, in spite of mutual injuries--some of them, inflicted by herself, enormous--in spite of a married life of spitedbickerings--a life in which there seemed no love or liking orforbearance, for years--now that Pyneweck stood in near danger of death, something like remorse came suddenly upon her. She knew that inShrewsbury were transacting the scenes which were to determine his fate. She knew she did not love him; but she could not have supposed, even afortnight before, that the hour of suspense could have affected her sopowerfully. 

She knew the day on which the trial was expected to take place. Shecould not get it out of her head for a minute; she felt faint as it drewtowards evening. 

Two or three days passed; and then she knew that the trial must be overby this time. There were floods between London and Shrewsbury, and newswas long delayed. She wished the floods would last forever. It wasdreadful waiting to hear; dreadful to know that the event was over, andthat she could not hear till self-willed rivers subsided; dreadful toknow that they must subside and the news come at last. 

She had some vague trust in the Judge's good nature, and much in theresources of chance and accident. She had contrived to send the money hewanted. He would not be without legal advice and energetic and skilledsupport. 

At last the news did come--a long arrear all in a gush: a letter from afemale friend in Shrewsbury; a return of the sentences, sent up for theJudge; and most important, because most easily got at, being told withgreat aplomb and brevity, the long-deferred intelligence of theShrewsbury Assizes in the _Morning Advertiser_. Like an impatient readerof a novel, who reads the last page first, she read with dizzy eyes thelist of the executions. 

Two were respited, seven were hanged; and in that capital catalogue wasthis line:

"Lewis Pyneweck--forgery. "

She had to read it a half-a-dozen times over before she was sure sheunderstood it. Here was the paragraph:

 _Sentence, Death--7. _

 Executed accordingly, on Friday the 13th instant, to wit:

 Thomas Primer, _alias_ Duck--highway robbery. Flora Guy--stealing to the value of 11s. 6d. Arthur Pounden--burglary. Matilda Mummery--riot. Lewis Pyneweck--forgery, bill of exchange. 

And when she reached this, she read it over and over, feeling very coldand sick. 

This buxom housekeeper was known in the house as Mrs. Carwell--Carwellbeing her maiden name, which she had resumed. 

No one in the house except its master knew her history. Her introductionhad been managed craftily. No one suspected that it had been concertedbetween her and the old reprobate in scarlet and ermine. 

Flora Carwell ran up the stairs now, and snatched her little girl, hardly seven years of age, whom she met on the lobby, hurriedly up inher arms, and carried her into her bedroom, without well knowing whatshe was doing, and sat down, placing the child before her. She was notable to speak. She held the child before her, and looked in the littlegirl's wondering face, and burst into tears of horror. 

She thought the Judge could have saved him. I daresay he could. For atime she was furious with him, and hugged and kissed her bewilderedlittle girl, who returned her gaze with large round eyes. 

That little girl had lost her father, and knew nothing of the matter. She had always been told that her father was dead long ago. 

A woman, coarse, uneducated, vain, and violent, does not reason, or evenfeel, very distinctly; but in these tears of consternation were minglinga self-upbraiding. She felt afraid of that little child. 

But Mrs. Carwell was a person who lived not upon sentiment, but uponbeef and pudding; she consoled herself with punch; she did not troubleherself long even with resentments; she was a gross and material person, and could not mourn over the irrevocable for more than a limited numberof hours, even if she would. 

Judge Harbottle was soon in London again. Except the gout, this savageold epicurean never knew a day's sickness. He laughed, and coaxed, andbullied away the young woman's faint upbraidings, and in a little timeLewis Pyneweck troubled her no more; and the Judge secretly chuckledover the perfectly fair removal of a bore, who might have grown littleby little into something very like a tyrant. 

It was the lot of the Judge whose adventures I am now recounting to trycriminal cases at the Old Bailey shortly after his return. He hadcommenced his charge to the jury in a case of forgery, and was, afterhis wont, thundering dead against the prisoner, with many a hardaggravation and cynical gibe, when suddenly all died away in silence, and, instead of looking at the jury, the eloquent Judge was gaping atsome person in the body of the court. 

Among the persons of small importance who stand and listen at the sideswas one tall enough to show with a little prominence; a slight meanfigure, dressed in seedy black, lean and dark of visage. He had justhanded a letter to the crier, before he caught the Judge's eye. 

That Judge descried, to his amazement, the features of Lewis Pyneweck. He had the usual faint thin-lipped smile; and with his blue chin raisedin air, and as it seemed quite unconscious of the distinguished noticehe has attracted, he was stretching his low cravat with his crookedfingers, while he slowly turned his head from side to side--a processwhich enabled the Judge to see distinctly a stripe of swollen blue roundhis neck, which indicated, he thought, the grip of the rope. 

This man, with a few others, had got a footing on a step, from which hecould better see the court. He now stepped down, and the Judge lostsight of him. 

His lordship signed energetically with his hand in the direction inwhich this man had vanished. He turned to the tipstaff. His first effortto speak ended in a gasp. He cleared his throat, and told the astoundedofficial to arrest that man who had interrupted the court. 

"He's but this moment gone down _there_. Bring him in custody before me, within ten minutes' time, or I'll strip your gown from your shouldersand fine the sheriff!" he thundered, while his eyes flashed round thecourt in search of the functionary. 

Attorneys, counsellors, idle spectators, gazed in the direction in whichMr. Justice Harbottle had shaken his gnarled old hand. They comparednotes. Not one had seen any one making a disturbance. They asked oneanother if the Judge was losing his head. 

Nothing came of the search. His lordship concluded his charge a greatdeal more tamely; and when the jury retired, he stared round the courtwith a wandering mind, and looked as if he would not have given sixpenceto see the prisoner hanged. 

CHAPTER V

_Caleb Searcher_

The Judge had received the letter; had he known from whom it came, hewould no doubt have read it instantaneously. As it was he simply readthe direction:

_To the HonourableThe Lord JusticeElijah Harbottle, One of his Majesty's Justices ofthe Honourable Court of Common Pleas. _

It remained forgotten in his pocket till he reached home. 

When he pulled out that and others from the capacious pocket of hiscoat, it had its turn, as he sat in his library in his thick silkdressing-gown; and then he found its contents to be a closely-writtenletter, in a clerk's hand, and an enclosure in "secretary hand, " as Ibelieve the angular scrivinary of law-writings in those days was termed, engrossed on a bit of parchment about the size of this page. The lettersaid:

 MR. JUSTICE HARBOTTLE, --MY LORD, I am ordered by the High Court of Appeal to acquaint your lordship, in order to your better preparing yourself for your trial, that a true bill hath been sent down, and the indictment lieth against your lordship for the murder of one Lewis Pyneweck of Shrewsbury, citizen, wrongfully executed for the forgery of a bill of exchange, on the ----th day of ---- last, by reason of the wilful perversion of the evidence, and the undue pressure put upon the jury, together with the illegal admission of evidence by your lordship, well knowing the same to be illegal, by all which the promoter of the prosecution of the said indictment, before the High Court of Appeal, hath lost his life. 

 And the trial of the said indictment, I am farther ordered to acquaint your lordship, is fixed for the both day of ---- next ensuing, by the right honourable the Lord Chief Justice Twofold, of the court aforesaid, to wit, the High Court of Appeal, on which day it will most certainly take place. And I am farther to acquaint your lordship, to prevent any surprise or miscarriage, that your case stands first for the said day, and that the said High Court of Appeal sits day and night, and never rises; and herewith, by order of the said court, I furnish your lordship with a copy (extract) of the record in this case, except of the indictment, whereof, notwithstanding, the substance and effect is supplied to your lordship in this Notice. And farther I am to inform you, that in case the jury then to try your lordship should find you guilty, the right honourable the Lord Chief Justice will, in passing sentence of death upon you, fix the day of execution for the 10th day of ----, being one calendar month from the day of your trial. 

 It was signed by CALEB SEARCHER, Officer of the Crown Solicitor in the Kingdom of Life and Death. 

The Judge glanced through the parchment. 

"'Sblood! Do they think a man like me is to be bamboozled by theirbuffoonery?"

The Judge's coarse features were wrung into one of his sneers; but hewas pale. Possibly, after all, there was a conspiracy on foot. It wasqueer. Did they mean to pistol him in his carriage? or did they only aimat frightening him?

Judge Harbottle had more than enough of animal courage. He was notafraid of highwaymen, and he had fought more than his share of duels, being a foul-mouthed advocate while he held briefs at the bar. No onequestioned his fighting qualities. But with respect to this particularcase of Pyneweck, he lived in a house of glass. Was there not hispretty, dark-eyed, over-dressed housekeeper, Mrs. Flora Carwell? Veryeasy for people who knew Shrewsbury to identify Mrs. Pyneweck, if onceput upon the scent; and had he not stormed and worked hard in that case?Had he not made it hard sailing for the prisoner? Did he not know verywell what the bar thought of it? It would be the worst scandal that everblasted Judge. 

So much there was intimidating in the matter but nothing more. The Judgewas a little bit gloomy for a day or two after, and more testy withevery one than usual. 

He locked up the papers; and about a week after he asked hishousekeeper, one day, in the library:

"Had your husband never a brother?"

Mrs. Carwell squalled on this sudden introduction of the funereal topic, and cried exemplary "piggins full, " as the Judge used pleasantly to say. But he was in no mood for trifling now, and he said sternly:

"Come, madam! this wearies me. Do it another time; and give me an answerto my question. " So she did. 

Pyneweck had no brother living. He once had one; but he died in Jamaica. 

"How do you know he is dead?" asked the Judge. 

"Because he told me so. "

"Not the dead man. "

"Pyneweck told me so. "

"Is that all?" sneered the Judge. 

He pondered this matter; and time went on. The Judge was growing alittle morose, and less enjoying. The subject struck nearer to histhoughts than he fancied it could have done. But so it is with mostundivulged vexations, and there was no one to whom he could tell thisone. 

It was now the ninth; and Mr Justice Harbottle was glad. He knew nothingwould come of it. Still it bothered him; and to-morrow would see it wellover. 

[What of the paper I have cited? No one saw it during his life; no one, after his death. He spoke of it to Dr. Hedstone; and what purported tobe "a copy, " in the old Judge's handwriting, was found. The original wasnowhere. Was it a copy of an illusion, incident to brain disease? Suchis my belief. ]

CHAPTER VI

_Arrested_

Judge Harbottle went this night to the play at Drury Lane. He was oneof the old fellows who care nothing for late hours, and occasionalknocking about in pursuit of pleasure. He had appointed with two croniesof Lincoln's Inn to come home in his coach with him to sup after theplay. 

They were not in his box, but were to meet him near the entrance, andget into his carriage there; and Mr. Justice Harbottle, who hatedwaiting, was looking a little impatiently from the window. 

The Judge yawned. 

He told the footman to watch for Counsellor Thavies and CounsellorBeller, who were coming; and, with another yawn, he laid his cocked haton his knees, closed his eyes, leaned back in his corner, wrapped hismantle closer about him, and began to think of pretty Mrs. Abington. 

And being a man who could sleep like a sailor, at a moment's notice, hewas thinking of taking a nap. Those fellows had no business to keep ajudge waiting. 

He heard their voices now. Those rake-hell counsellors were laughing, and bantering, and sparring after their wont. The carriage swayed andjerked, as one got in, and then again as the other followed. The doorclapped, and the coach was now jogging and rumbling over the pavement. The Judge was a little bit sulky. He did not care to sit up and open hiseyes. Let them suppose he was asleep. He heard them laugh with moremalice than good-humour, he thought, as they observed it. He would givethem a d----d hard knock or two when they got to his door, and till thenhe would counterfeit his nap. 

The clocks were chiming twelve. Beller and Thavies were silent astombstones. They were generally loquacious and merry rascals. 

The Judge suddenly felt himself roughly seized and thrust from hiscorner into the middle of the seat, and opening his eyes, instantly hefound himself between his two companions. 

Before he could blurt out the oath that was at his lips, he saw thatthey were two strangers--evil-looking fellows, each with a pistol in hishand, and dressed like Bow Street officers. 

The Judge clutched at the check-string. The coach pulled up. He staredabout him. They were not among houses; but through the windows, under abroad moonlight, he saw a black moor stretching lifelessly from right toleft, with rotting trees, pointing fantastic branches in the air, standing here and there in groups, as if they held up their arms andtwigs like fingers, in horrible glee at the Judge's coming. 

A footman came to the window. He knew his long face and sunken eyes. Heknew it was Dingly Chuff, fifteen years ago a footman in his service, whom he had turned off at a moment's notice, in a burst of jealousy, andindicted for a missing spoon. The man had died in prison of the jail-fever. 

The Judge drew back in utter amazement. His armed companions signedmutely; and they were again gliding over this unknown moor. 

The bloated and gouty old man, in his horror considered the question ofresistance. But his athletic days were long over. This moor was adesert. There was no help to be had. He was in the hands of strangeservants, even if his recognition turned out to be a delusion, and theywere under the command of his captors. There was nothing for it butsubmission, for the present. 

Suddenly the coach was brought nearly to a standstill, so that theprisoner saw an ominous sight from the window. 

It was a gigantic gallows beside the road; it stood three-sided, andfrom each of its three broad beams at top depended in chains some eightor ten bodies, from several of which the cere-clothes had dropped away, leaving the skeletons swinging lightly by their chains. A tall ladderreached to the summit of the structure, and on the peat beneath laybones. 

On top of the dark transverse beam facing the road, from which, as fromthe other two completing the triangle of death, dangled a row of theseunfortunates in chains, a hangman, with a pipe in his mouth, much as wesee him in the famous print of the "Idle Apprentice, " though here hisperch was ever so much higher, was reclining at his ease and listlesslyshying bones, from a little heap at his elbow, at the skeletons thathung round, bringing down now a rib or two, now a hand, now half a leg. A long-sighted man could have discerned that he was a dark fellow, lean;and from continually looking down on the earth from the elevation overwhich, in another sense, he always hung, his nose, his lips, his chinwere pendulous and loose, and drawn down into a monstrous grotesque. 

This fellow took his pipe from his mouth on seeing the coach, stood up, and cut some solemn capers high on his beam, and shook a new rope in theair, crying with a voice high and distant as the caw of a raven hoveringover a gibbet, "A robe for Judge Harbottle!"

The coach was now driving on at its old swift pace. 

So high a gallows as that, the Judge had never, even in his mosthilarious moments, dreamed of. He thought, he must be raving. And thedead footman! He shook his ears and strained his eyelids; but if he wasdreaming, he was unable to awake himself. 

There was no good in threatening these scoundrels. A _brutum fulmen_might bring a real one on his head. 

Any submission to get out of their hands; and then heaven and earth hewould move to unearth and hunt them down. 

Suddenly they drove round a corner of a vast white building, and under a_porte-cochère_. 

CHAPTER VII

_Chief-Justice Twofold_

The Judge found himself in a corridor lighted with dingy oil lamps, thewalls of bare stone; it looked like a passage in a prison. His guardsplaced him in the hands of other people. Here and there he saw bony andgigantic soldiers passing to and fro, with muskets over their shoulders. They looked straight before them, grinding their teeth, in bleak fury, with no noise but the clank of their shoes. He saw these by glimpses, round corners, and at the ends of passages, but he did not actually passthem by. 

And now, passing under a narrow doorway, he found himself in the dock, confronting a judge in his scarlet robes, in a large court-house. Therewas nothing to elevate this Temple of Themis above its vulgar kindelsewhere. Dingy enough it looked, in spite of candles lighted in decentabundance. A case had just closed, and the last juror's back was seenescaping through the door in the wall of the jury-box. There were somedozen barristers, some fiddling with pen and ink, others buried inbriefs, some beckoning, with the plumes of their pens, to theirattorneys, of whom there were no lack; there were clerks to-ing andfro-ing, and the officers of the court, and the registrar, who was handingup a paper to the judge; and the tipstaff, who was presenting a note atthe end of his wand to a king's counsel over the heads of the crowdbetween. If this was the High Court of Appeal, which never rose day ornight, it might account for the pale and jaded aspect of everybody init. An air of indescribable gloom hung upon the pallid features of allthe people here; no one ever smiled; all looked more or less secretlysuffering. 

"The King against Elijah Harbottle!" shouted the officer. 

"Is the appellant Lewis Pyneweck in court?" asked Chief-Justice Twofold, in a voice of thunder, that shook the woodwork of the court, and boomeddown the corridors. 

Up stood Pyneweck from his place at the table. 

"Arraign the prisoner!" roared the Chief: and Judge Harbottle felt thepanels of the dock round him, and the floor, and the rails quiver in thevibrations of that tremendous voice. 

The prisoner, _in limine_, objected to this pretended court, as being asham, and non-existent in point of law; and then, that, even if it werea court constituted by law (the Judge was growing dazed), it had not andcould not have any jurisdiction to try him for his conduct on the bench. 

Whereupon the chief-justice laughed suddenly, and every one in court, turning round upon the prisoner, laughed also, till the laugh grew androared all round like a deafening acclamation; he saw nothing butglittering eyes and teeth, a universal stare and grin; but though allthe voices laughed, not a single face of all those that concentratedtheir gaze upon him looked like a laughing face. The mirth subsided assuddenly as it began. 

The indictment was read. Judge Harbottle actually pleaded! He pleaded"Not Guilty. " A jury were sworn. The trial proceeded. Judge Harbottlewas bewildered. This could not be real. He must be either mad, or_going_ mad, he thought. 

One thing could not fail to strike even him. This Chief-Justice Twofold, who was knocking him about at every turn with sneer and gibe, androaring him down with his tremendous voice, was a dilated effigy ofhimself; an image of Mr. Justice Harbottle, at least double his size, and with all his fierce colouring, and his ferocity of eye and visage, enhanced awfully. 

Nothing the prisoner could argue, cite, or state, was permitted toretard for a moment the march of the case towards its catastrophe. 

The chief-justice seemed to feel his power over the jury, and to exultand riot in the display of it. He glared at them, he nodded to them; heseemed to have established an understanding with them. The lights werefaint in that part of the court. The jurors were mere shadows, sittingin rows; the prisoner could see a dozen pair of white eyes shining, coldly, out of the darkness; and whenever the judge in his charge, whichwas contemptuously brief, nodded and grinned and gibed, the prisonercould see, in the obscurity, by the dip of all these rows of eyestogether, that the jury nodded in acquiescence. 

And now the charge was over, the huge chief-justice leaned back pantingand gloating on the prisoner. Every one in the court turned about, andgazed with steadfast hatred on the man in the dock. From the jury-boxwhere the twelve sworn brethren were whispering together, a sound in thegeneral stillness like a prolonged "hiss-s-s!" was heard; and then, inanswer to the challenge of the officer, "How say you, gentlemen of thejury, guilty or not guilty?" came in a melancholy voice the finding, "Guilty. "

The place seemed to the eyes of the prisoner to grow gradually darkerand darker, till he could discern nothing distinctly but the lumen ofthe eyes that were turned upon him from every bench and side and cornerand gallery of the building. The prisoner doubtless thought that he hadquite enough to say, and conclusive, why sentence of death should not bepronounced upon him; but the lord chief-justice puffed it contemptuouslyaway, like so much smoke, and proceeded to pass sentence of death uponthe prisoner, having named the tenth of the ensuing month for hisexecution. 

Before he had recovered the stun of this ominous farce, in obedience tothe mandate, "Remove the prisoner, " he was led from the dock. The lampsseemed all to have gone out, and there were stoves and charcoal-fireshere and there, that threw a faint crimson light on the walls of thecorridors through which he passed. The stones that composed them lookednow enormous, cracked and unhewn. 

He came into a vaulted smithy, where two men, naked to the waist, withheads like bulls, round shoulders, and the arms of giants, were weldingred-hot chains together with hammers that pelted like thunderbolts. 

They looked on the prisoner with fierce red eyes, and rested on theirhammers for a minute; and said the elder to his companion, "Take outElijah Harbottle's gyves;" and with a pincers he plucked the end whichlay dazzling in the fire from the furnace. 

"One end locks, " said he, taking the cool end of the iron in one hand, while with the grip of a vice he seized the leg of the Judge, and lockedthe ring round his ankle. "The other, " he said with a grin, "is welded. "

The iron band that was to form the ring for the other leg lay still redhot upon the stone floor, with briliant sparks sporting up and down itssurface. 

His companion, in his gigantic hands, seized the old Judge's other leg, and pressed his foot immovably to the stone floor; while his senior, ina twinkling, with a masterly application of pincers and hammer, sped theglowing bar around his ankle so tight that the skin and sinews smokedand bubbled again, and old Judge Harbottle uttered a yell that seemed tochill the very stones, and make the iron chains quiver on the wall. 

Chains, vaults, smiths, and smithy all vanished in a moment; but thepain continued. Mr. Justice Harbottle was suffering torture all roundthe ankle on which the infernal smiths had just been operating. 

His friends, Thavies and Beller, were startled by the Judge's roar inthe midst of their elegant trifling about a marriage _à-la-mode_ casewhich was going on. The Judge was in panic as well as pain. The streetlamps and the light of his own hall door restored him. 

"I'm very bad, " growled he between his set teeth; "my foot's blazing. Who was he that hurt my foot? 'Tis the gout--'tis the gout!" he said, awaking completely. "How many hours have we been coming from theplayhouse? 'Sblood, what has happened on the way? I've slept half thenight!"

There had been no hitch or delay, and they had driven home at a goodpace. 

The Judge, however, was in gout; he was feverish too; and the attack, though very short, was sharp; and when, in about a fortnight, itsubsided, his ferocious joviality did not return. He could not get thisdream, as he chose to call it, out of his head. 

CHAPTER VIII

_Somebody Has Got Into the House_

People remarked that the Judge was in the vapours. His doctor said heshould go for a fortnight to Buxton. 

Whenever the Judge fell into a brown study, he was always conning overthe terms of the sentence pronounced upon him in his vision--"in onecalendar month from the date of this day;" and then the usual form, "andyou shall be hanged by the neck till you are dead, " etc. "That will bethe 10th--I'm not much in the way of being hanged. I know what stuffdreams are, and I laugh at them; but this is continually in my thoughts, as if it forecast misfortune of some sort. I wish the day my dream gaveme were passed and over. I wish I were well purged of my gout. I wish Iwere as I used to be. 'Tis nothing but vapours, nothing but a maggot. "The copy of the parchment and letter which had announced his trial withmany a snort and sneer he would read over and over again, and thescenery and people of his dream would rise about him in places the mostunlikely, and steal him in a moment from all that surrounded him into aworld of shadows. 

The Judge had lost his iron energy and banter. He was growing taciturnand morose. The Bar remarked the change, as well they might. His friendsthought him ill. The doctor said he was troubled with hypochondria, andthat his gout was still lurking in his system, and ordered him to thatancient haunt of crutches and chalk-stones, Buxton. 

The Judge's spirits were very low; he was frightened about himself; andhe described to his housekeeper, having sent for her to his study todrink a dish of tea, his strange dream in his drive home from Drury LanePlayhouse. He was sinking into the state of nervous dejection in whichmen lose their faith in orthodox advice, and in despair consult quacks, astrologers, and nursery storytellers. Could such a dream mean that hewas to have a fit, and so die on the both? She did not think so. On thecontrary, it was certain some good luck must happen on that day. 

The Judge kindled; and for the first time for many days, he looked for aminute or two like himself, and he tapped her on the cheek with the handthat was not in flannel. 

"Odsbud! odsheart! you dear rogue! I had forgot. There is youngTom--yellow Tom, my nephew, you know, lies sick at Harrogate; why shouldn'the go that day as well as another, and if he does, I get an estate byit? Why, lookee, I asked Doctor Hedstone yesterday if I was like to takea fit any time, and he laughed, and swore I was the last man in town togo off that way. "

The Judge sent most of his servants down to Buxton to make his lodgingsand all things comfortable for him. He was to follow in a day or two. 

It was now the 9th; and the next day well over, he might laugh at hisvisions and auguries. 

On the evening of the 9th, Dr. Hedstone's footman knocked at theJudge's door. The Doctor ran up the dusky stairs to the drawing-room. Itwas a March evening, near the hour of sunset, with an east windwhistling sharply through the chimney-stacks. A wood fire blazedcheerily on the hearth. And Judge Harbottle, in what was then called abrigadier-wig, with his red roquelaure on, helped the glowing effect ofthe darkened chamber, which looked red all over like a room on fire. 

The Judge had his feet on a stool, and his huge grim purple faceconfronted the fire, and seemed to pant and swell, as the blazealternately spread upward and collapsed. He had fallen again among hisblue devils, and was thinking of retiring from the Bench, and of fiftyother gloomy things. 

But the Doctor, who was an energetic son of Aesculapius, would listen tono croaking, told the Judge he was full of gout, and in his presentcondition no judge even of his own case, but promised him leave topronounce on all those melancholy questions, a fortnight later. 

In the meantime the Judge must be very careful. He was overcharged withgout, and he must not provoke an attack, till the waters of Buxtonshould do that office for him, in their own salutary way. 

The Doctor did not think him perhaps quite so well as he pretended, forhe told him he wanted rest, and would be better if he went forthwith tohis bed. 

Mr. Gerningham, his valet, assisted him, and gave him his drops; and theJudge told him to wait in his bedroom till he should go to sleep. 

Three persons that night had specially odd stories to tell. 

The housekeeper had got rid of the trouble of amusing her little girl atthis anxious time, by giving her leave to run about the sitting-roomsand look at the pictures and china, on the usual condition of touchingnothing. It was not until the last gleam of sunset had for some timefaded, and the twilight had so deepened that she could no longer discernthe colours on the china figures on the chimneypiece or in the cabinets, that the child returned to the housekeeper's room to find her mother. 

To her she related, after some prattle about the china, and thepictures, and the Judge's two grand wigs in the dressing-room off thelibrary, an adventure of an extraordinary kind. 

In the hall was placed, as was customary in those times, the sedan-chairwhich the master of the house occasionally used, covered with stampedleather, and studded with gilt nails, and with its red silk blinds down. In this case, the doors of this old-fashioned conveyance were locked, the windows up, and, as I said, the blinds down, but not so closely thatthe curious child could not peep underneath one of them, and see intothe interior. 

A parting beam from the setting sun, admitted through the window of aback room, shot obliquely through the open door, and lighting on thechair, shone with a dull transparency through the crimson blind. 

To her surprise, the child saw in the shadow a thin man, dressed inblack, seated in it; he had sharp dark features; his nose, she fancied, a little awry, and his brown eyes were looking straight before him; hishand was on his thigh, and he stirred no more than the waxen figure shehad seen at Southwark fair. 

A child is so often lectured for asking questions, and on the proprietyof silence, and the superior wisdom of its elders, that it accepts mostthings at last in good faith; and the little girl acquiescedrespectfully in the occupation of the chair by this mahogany-facedperson as being all right and proper. 

It was not until she asked her mother who this man was, and observed herscared face as she questioned her more minutely upon the appearance ofthe stranger, that she began to understand that she had seen somethingunaccountable. 

Mrs. Carwell took the key of the chair from its nail over the footman'sshelf, and led the child by the hand up to the hall, having a lightedcandle in her other hand. She stopped at a distance from the chair, andplaced the candlestick in the child's hand. 

"Peep in, Margery, again, and try if there's anything there, " shewhispered; "hold the candle near the blind so as to throw its lightthrough the curtain. "

The child peeped, this time with a very solemn face, and intimated atonce that he was gone. 

"Look again, and be sure, " urged her mother. 

The little girl was quite certain; and Mrs. Carwell, with her mob-cap oflace and cherry-coloured ribbons, and her dark brown hair, not yetpowdered, over a very pale face, unlocked the door, looked in, andbeheld emptiness. 

"All a mistake, child, you see. "

"_There!_ ma'am! see there! He's gone round the corner, " said the child. 

"Where?" said Mrs. Carwell, stepping backward a step. 

"Into that room. "

"Tut, child! 'twas the shadow, " cried Mrs. Carwell, angrily, because shewas frightened. "I moved the candle. " But she clutched one of the polesof the chair, which leant against the wall in the corner, and poundedthe floor furiously with one end of it, being afraid to pass the opendoor the child had pointed to. 

The cook and two kitchen-maids came running upstairs, not knowing whatto make of this unwonted alarm. 

They all searched the room; but it was still and empty, and no sign ofany one's having been there. 

Some people may suppose that the direction given to her thoughts by thisodd little incident will account for a very strange illusion which Mrs. Carwell herself experienced about two hours later. 

CHAPTER IX

_The Judge Leaves His House_

Mrs. Flora Carwell was going up the great staircase with a posset forthe Judge in a china bowl, on a little silver tray. 

Across the top of the well-staircase there runs a massive oak rail; and, raising her eyes accidentally, she saw an extremely odd-lookingstranger, slim and long, leaning carelessly over with a pipe between hisfinger and thumb. Nose, lips, and chin seemed all to droop downward intoextraordinary length, as he leant his odd peering face over thebanister. In his other hand he held a coil of rope, one end of whichescaped from under his elbow and hung over the rail. 

Mrs. Carwell, who had no suspicion at the moment, that he was not a realperson, and fancied that he was some one employed in cording the Judge'sluggage, called to know what he was doing there. 

Instead of answering, he turned about, and walked across the lobby, atabout the same leisurely pace at which she was ascending, and entered aroom, into which she followed him. It was an uncarpeted and unfurnishedchamber. An open trunk lay upon the floor empty, and beside it the coilof rope; but except herself there her. Perhaps, when she was able tothink it over, it was a relief to was no one in the room. 

Mrs. Carwell was very much frightened, and now concluded that the childmust have seen the same ghost that had just appeared to believe so; forthe face, figure, and dress described by the child were awfully likePyneweck; and this certainly was not he. 

Very much scared and very hysterical, Mrs. Carwell ran down to her room, afraid to look over her shoulder, and got some companions about her, andwept, and talked, and drank more than one cordial, and talked and weptagain, and so on, until, in those early days, it was ten o'clock, andtime to go to bed. 

A scullery maid remained up finishing some of her scouring and"scalding" for some time after the other servants--who, as I said, werefew in number--that night had got to their beds. This was a low-browed, broad-faced, intrepid wench with black hair, who did not "vally a ghostnot a button, " and treated the housekeeper's hysterics with measurelessscorn. 

The old house was quiet now. It was near twelve o'clock, no sounds wereaudible except the muffled wailing of the wintry winds, piping highamong the roofs and chimneys, or rumbling at intervals, in under gusts, through the narrow channels of the street. 

The spacious solitudes of the kitchen level were awfully dark, and thissceptical kitchen-wench was the only person now up and about the house. She hummed tunes to herself, for a time; and then stopped and listened;and then resumed her work again. At last, she was destined to be moreterrified than even was the housekeeper. 

There was a back kitchen in this house, and from this she heard, as ifcoming from below its foundations, a sound like heavy strokes, thatseemed to shake the earth beneath her feet. Sometimes a dozen insequence, at regular intervals; sometimes fewer. She walked out softlyinto the passage, and was surprised to see a dusky glow issuing fromthis room, as if from a charcoal fire. 

The room seemed thick with smoke. 

Looking in she very dimly beheld a monstrous figure, over a furnace, beating with a mighty hammer the rings and rivets of a chain. 

The strokes, swift and heavy as they looked, sounded hollow and distant. The man stopped, and pointed to something on the floor, that, throughthe smoky haze, looked, the thought, like a dead body. She remarked nomore; but the servants in the room close by, startled from their sleepby a hideous scream, found her in a swoon on the flags, close to thedoor, where she had just witnessed this ghastly vision. 

Startled by the girl's incoherent asseverations that she had seen theJudge's corpse on the floor, two servants having first searched thelower part of the house, went rather frightened up-stairs to inquirewhether their master was well. They found him, not in his bed, but inhis room. He had a table with candles burning at his bedside, and wasgetting on his clothes again; and he swore and cursed at them roundly inhis old style, telling them that he had business, and that he woulddischarge on the spot any scoundrel who should dare to disturb himagain. 

So the invalid was left to his quietude. 

In the morning it was rumored here and there in the street that theJudge was dead. A servant was sent from the house three doors away, byCounsellor Traverse, to inquire at Judge Harbottle's hall door. 

The servant who opened it was pale and reserved, and would only say thatthe Judge was ill. He had had a dangerous accident; Doctor Hedstone hadbeen with him at seven o'clock in the morning. 

There were averted looks, short answers, pale and frowning faces, andall the usual signs that there was a secret that sat heavily upon theirminds and the time for disclosing which had not yet come. That timewould arrive when the coroner had arrived, and the mortal scandal thathad befallen the house could be no longer hidden. For that morning Mr. Justice Harbottle had been found hanging by the neck from the banisterat the top of the great staircase, and quite dead. 

There was not the smallest sign of any struggle or resistance. There hadnot been heard a cry or any other noise in the slightest degreeindicative of violence. There was medical evidence to show that, in hisatrabilious state, it was quite on the cards that he might have madeaway with himself. The jury found accordingly that it was a case ofsuicide. But to those who were acquainted with the strange story whichJudge Harbottle had related to at least two persons, the fact that thecatastrophe occurred on the morning of March 10th seemed a startlingcoincidence. 

A few days after, the pomp of a great funeral attended him to the grave;and so, in the language of Scripture, "the rich man died, and wasburied. "