Pausanias, the Spartan by Lord Lytton

L >> Lord Lytton >> Pausanias, the Spartan

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Hear ye not, neighbours, the voice of Peace?
"The swallow I hear in the household eaves."
Io Aegien! Peace!
"And the skylark at poise o'er the bended sheaves,"
Io Aegien! Peace!
Here and there, everywhere, hear we Peace,
Hear her, and see her, and clasp her--Peace!
The grasshopper chaunts in the bells of thyme,
And the halcyon is back to her nest in Greece!

IN PRAISE OF THE ATHENIAN KNIGHTS.

_Imitated from the "Knights" of Aristophanes_, v. 505, etc.

Chaunt the fame of the Knights, or in war or in peace,
Chaunt the darlings of Athens,[4] the bulwarks of Greece
Pressing foremost to glory, on wave and on shore,
Where the steed has no footing they win with the oar.[5]

On their bosoms the battle splits, wasting its shock.
If they charge like the whirlwind, they stand like the rock.
Ha! they count not the numbers, they scan not the ground,
When a foe comes in sight on his lances they bound.

Fails a foot in its speed? heed it not. One and all[6]
Spurn the earth that they spring from, and own not a fall.
O the darlings of Athens, the bulwarks of Greece,
Wherefore envy the lovelocks they perfume in peace!

Wherefore scowl if they fondle a quail or a dove,
Or inscribe on a myrtle, the names that they love?
Does Alcides not teach us how valour is mild?
Lo, at rest from his labours he plays with a child.

When the slayer of Python has put down his bow,
By his lute and his lovelocks Apollo we know.
Fear'd, O rowers, those gallants their beauty to spoil
When they sat on your benches, and shared in your toil!

When with laughter they row'd to your cry "Hippopai,"
"On, ye coursers of wood, for the palm wreath, away!"
Did those dainty youths ask you to store in your holds
Or a cask from their crypt or a lamb from their folds?

No, they cried, "We are here both to fight and to fast,
Place us first in the fight, at the board serve us last!
Wheresoever is peril, we knights lead the way,
Wheresoever is hardship, we claim it as pay.

"Call us proud, O Athenians, we know it full well,
And we give you the life we're too haughty to sell."
Hail the stoutest in war, hail the mildest in peace,
Hail the darlings of Athens, the bulwarks of Greece!

Notes:

[1] [Greek: Turou te kai kromuon]. Cheese and onions, the rations
furnished to soldiers in campaign.

[2] It ripened earlier than the others. The words of the Chorus are,
[Greek: tas Laemnias ampelous ei pepainousin aedae].

[3]: Variation--"What a blessing is life in a noon of Spring."

[4] Variation--"The adorners of Athens, the bulwarks of Greece."

[5] Variation--"Keenest racers to glory, on wave or on shore, By the
rush of the steed or the stroke of the oar!"

[6] Variation--"Falls there one? never help him! Our knights one and
all."

THE HAUNTED AND THE HAUNTERS:

OR, THE HOUSE AND THE BRAIN

[This tale first appeared in _Blackwood's Magazine_, August, 1859. A
portion of it as then published is now suppressed, because encroaching
too much on the main plot of the "Strange Story." As it stands,
however, it may be considered the preliminary outline of that more
elaborate attempt to construct an interest akin to that which our
forefathers felt in tales of witchcraft and ghostland, out of ideas
and beliefs which have crept into fashion in the society of our own
day. There has, perhaps, been no age in which certain phenomena
that in all ages have been produced by, or upon, certain physical
temperaments, have excited so general a notice,--more perhaps among
the educated classes than the uneducated. Nor do I believe that there
is any age in which those phenomena have engendered throughout a wider
circle a more credulous superstition. But, on the other hand, there
has certainly been no age in which persons of critical and inquisitive
intellect--seeking to divest what is genuine in these apparent
vagaries of Nature from the cheats of venal impostors and the
exaggeration of puzzled witnesses--have more soberly endeavoured
to render such exceptional thaumaturgia of philosophical use,
in enlarging our conjectural knowledge of the complex laws of
being--sometimes through physiological, sometimes through metaphysical
research. Without discredit, however, to the many able and
distinguished speculators on so vague a subject, it must be observed
that their explanations as yet have been rather ingenious than
satisfactory. Indeed, the first requisites for conclusive theory are
at present wanting. The facts are not sufficiently generalized, and
the evidences for them have not been sufficiently tested.

It is just when elements of the marvellous are thus struggling between
superstition and philosophy, that they fall by right to the domain of
Art--the art of poet or tale-teller. They furnish the constructor
of imaginative fiction with materials for mysterious terror of a
character not exhausted by his predecessors, and not foreign to the
notions that float on the surface of his own time; while they allow
him to wander freely over that range of conjecture which is favourable
to his purposes, precisely because science itself has not yet
disenchanted that debateable realm of its haunted shadows and goblin
lights.]

A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to
me one day, as if between jest and earnest,--" Fancy! since we last
met, I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London."

"Really haunted?--and by what? ghosts?"

"Well, I can't answer that question; all I know is this--six weeks ago
my wife and I were in search of a furnished apartment. Passing a quiet
street, we saw on the window of one of the houses a bill, 'Apartments
Furnished.' The situation suited us: we entered the house--liked the
rooms--engaged them by the week--and left them the third day. No power
on earth could have reconciled my wife to stay longer; and I don't
wonder at it."

"What did you see?"

"Excuse me--I have no desire to be ridiculed as a superstitious
dreamer--nor, on the other hand, could I ask you to accept on my
affirmation what you would hold to be incredible without the evidence
of your own senses. Let me only say this, it was not so much what we
saw or heard (in which you might fairly suppose that we were the dupes
of our own excited fancy, or the victims of imposture in others) that
drove us away, as it was an undefinable terror which seized both of us
whenever we passed by the door of a certain unfurnished room, in which
we neither saw nor heard anything. And the strangest marvel of all
was, that for once in my life I agreed with my wife, silly woman
though she be--and allowed, after the third night, that it was
impossible to stay a fourth in that house. Accordingly, on the fourth
morning I summoned the woman who kept the house and attended on us,
and told her that the rooms did not quite suit us, and we would not
stay out our week. She said, dryly, 'I know why; you have stayed
longer than any other lodger. Few ever stayed a second night; none
before you a third. But I take it they have been very kind to you.'

"'They--who?' I asked, affecting to smile.

"'Why, they who haunt the house, whoever they are. I don't mind them;
I remember them many years ago, when I lived in this house, not as a
servant; but I know they will be the death of me some day. I don't
care--I'm old, and must die soon anyhow; and then I shall be with
them, and in this house still.' The woman spoke with so dreary
a calmness, that really it was a sort of awe that prevented my
conversing with her further. I paid for my week, and too happy were my
wife and I to get off so cheaply."

"You excite my curiosity," said I; "nothing I should like better than
to sleep in a haunted house. Pray give me the address of the one which
you left so ignominiously."

My friend gave me the address; and when we parted, I walked straight
towards the house thus indicated.

It is situated on the north side of Oxford Street, in a dull but
respectable thoroughfare. I found the house shut up--no bill at
the window, and no response to my knock. As I was turning away, a
beer-boy, collecting pewter pots at the neighbouring areas, said to
me, "Do you want any one at that house, sir?"

"Yes, I heard it was to be let."

"Let!--why, the woman who kept it is dead--has been dead these three
weeks, and no one can be found to stay there, though Mr. J---- offered
ever so much. He offered mother, who chars for him, L1 a week just to
open and shut the windows, and she would not."

"Would not!--and why?"

"The house is haunted; and the old woman who kept it was found dead in
her bed, with her eyes wide open. They say the devil strangled her."

"Pooh!--you speak of Mr. J----. Is he the owner of the house?"

"Yes."

"Where does he live?"

"In G---- Street, No. --."

"What is he?--in any business?"

"No, sir--nothing particular; a single gentleman."

I gave the pot-boy the gratuity earned by his liberal information, and
proceeded to Mr. J----, in G---- Street, which was close by the street
that boasted the haunted house. I was lucky enough to find Mr.
J---- at home--an elderly man, with intelligent countenance and
prepossessing manners.

I communicated my name and my business frankly. I said I heard the
house was considered to be haunted--that I had a strong desire to
examine a house with so equivocal a reputation--that I should be
greatly obliged if he would allow me to hire it, though only for a
night. I was willing to pay for that privilege whatever he might be
inclined to ask. "Sir," said Mr. J----, with great courtesy, "the
house is at your service, for as short or as long a time as you
please. Rent is out of the question--the obligation will be on my side
should you be able to discover the cause of the strange phenomena
which at present deprive it of all value. I cannot let it, for I
cannot even get a servant to keep it in order or answer the door.
Unluckily the house is haunted, if I may use that expression, not only
by night, but by day; though at night the disturbances are of a more
unpleasant and sometimes of a more alarming character. The poor old
woman who died in it three weeks ago was a pauper whom I took out of
a workhouse, for in her childhood she had been known to some of my
family, and had once been in such good circumstances that she had
rented that house of my uncle. She was a woman of superior education
and strong mind, and was the only person I could ever induce to remain
in the house. Indeed, since her death, which was sudden, and the
coroner's inquest, which gave it a notoriety in the neighbourhood, I
have so despaired of finding any person to take charge of the house,
much more a tenant, that I would willingly let it rent-free for a year
to any one who would pay its rates and taxes."

"How long is it since the house acquired this sinister character?"

"That I can scarcely tell you, but very many years since. The old
woman I spoke of said it was haunted when she rented it between thirty
and forty years ago. The fact is, that my life has been spent in the
East Indies, and in the civil service of the Company. I returned to
England last year, on inheriting the fortune of an uncle, among
whose possessions was the house in question. I found it shut up and
uninhabited. I was told that it was haunted, that no one would inhabit
it. I smiled at what seemed to me so idle a story. I spent some money
in repairing it--added to its old-fashioned furniture a few modern
articles--advertised it, and obtained a lodger for a year. He was a
colonel retired on half-pay. He came in with his family, a son and a
daughter, and four or five servants: they all left the house the next
day; and, although each of them declared that he had seen something
different from that which had scared the others, a something still was
equally terrible to all. I really could not in conscience sue, nor
even blame, the colonel for breach of agreement. Then I put in the
old woman I have spoken of, and she was empowered to let the house in
apartments. I never had one lodger who stayed more than three days.
I do not tell you their stories--to no two lodgers have there been
exactly the same phenomena repeated. It is better that you should
judge for yourself, than enter the house with an imagination
influenced by previous narratives; only be prepared to see and to
hear something or other, and take whatever precautions you yourself
please."

"Have you never had a curiosity yourself to pass a night in that
house?"

"Yes. I passed not a night, but three hours in broad daylight alone in
that house. My curiosity is not satisfied, but it is quenched. I have
no desire to renew the experiment. You cannot complain, you see,
sir, that I am not sufficiently candid; and unless your interest be
exceedingly eager and your nerves unusually strong, I honestly add,
that I advise you not to pass a night in that house."

"My interest _is_ exceedingly keen," said I, "and though only a coward
will boast of his nerves in situations wholly unfamiliar to him, yet
my nerves have been seasoned in such variety of danger that I have the
right to rely on them--even in a haunted house."

Mr. J---- said very little more; he took the keys of the house out
of his bureau, gave them to me,--and, thanking him cordially for his
frankness, and his urbane concession to my wish, I carried off my
prize.

Impatient for the experiment, as soon as I reached home, I summoned my
confidential servant--a young man of gay spirits, fearless temper, and
as free from superstitious prejudice as any one I could think of.

"F----," said I, "you remember in Germany how disappointed we were at
not finding a ghost in that old castle, which was said to be haunted
by a headless apparition? Well, I have heard of a house in London
which, I have reason to hope, is decidedly haunted. I mean to sleep
there to-night. From what I hear, there is no doubt that something
will allow itself to be seen or to be heard--something, perhaps,
excessively horrible. Do you think if I take you with me, I may rely
on your presence of mind, whatever may happen?"

"Oh, sir! pray trust me," answered F----, grinning with delight.

"Very well; then here are the keys of the house--this is the address.
Go now,--select for me any bedroom you please; and since the house
has not been inhabited for weeks, make up a good fire--air the bed
well--see, of course, that there are candles as well as fuel. Take
with you my revolver and my dagger--so much for my weapons--arm
yourself equally well; and if we are not a match for a dozen ghosts,
we shall be but a sorry couple of Englishmen."

I was engaged for the rest of the day on business so urgent that I had
not leisure to think much on the nocturnal adventure to which I had
plighted my honour. I dined alone, and very late, and while dining,
read, as is my habit. I selected one of the volumes of Macaulay's
Essays. I thought to myself that I would take the book with me; there
was so much of healthfulness in the style, and practical life in the
subjects, that it would serve as an antidote against the influences of
superstitious fancy.

Accordingly, about half-past nine, I put the book into my pocket,
and strolled leisurely towards the haunted house. I took with me
a favourite dog,--an exceedingly sharp, bold, and vigilant
bull-terrier,--a dog fond of prowling about strange ghostly corners
and passages at night in search of rats--a dog of dogs for a ghost.

It was a summer night, but chilly, the sky somewhat gloomy and
overcast. Still there was a moon--faint and sickly, but still a
moon--and if the clouds permitted, after midnight it would be
brighter. I reached the house, knocked, and my servant opened with a
cheerful smile.

"All right, sir, and very comfortable."

"Oh!" said I, rather disappointed; "have you not seen nor heard
anything remarkable?"

"Well, sir, I must own I have heard something queer."

"What?--what?"

"The sound of feet pattering behind me; and once or twice small noises
like whispers close at my ear--nothing more."

"You are not at all frightened?"

"I! not a bit of it, sir;" and the man's bold look reassured me on one
point--viz. that happen what might, he would not desert me.

We were in the hall, the street-door closed, and my attention was
now drawn to my dog. He had at first run in eagerly enough, but had
sneaked back to the door, and was scratching and whining to get out.
After patting him on the head, and encouraging him gently, the dog
seemed to reconcile himself to the situation, and followed me and
F---- through the house, but keeping close at my heels instead of
hurrying inquisitively in advance, which was his usual and normal
habit in all strange places. We first visited the subterranean
apartments, the kitchen and other offices, and especially the cellars,
in which last there were two or three bottles of wine, still left in
a bin, covered with cobwebs, and evidently, by their appearance,
undisturbed for many years. It was clear that the ghosts were not
winebibbers. For the rest we discovered nothing of interest. There was
a gloomy little backyard, with very high walls. The stones of this
yard were very damp; and what with the damp, and what with the dust
and smoke-grime on the pavement, our feet left a slight impression
where we passed. And now appeared the first strange phenomenon
witnessed by myself in this strange abode.

I saw, just before me, the print of a foot suddenly form itself, as
it were. I stopped, caught hold of my servant, and pointed to it. In
advance of that footprint as suddenly dropped another. We both saw it.
I advanced quickly to the place; the footprint kept advancing before
me, a small footprint--the foot of a child: the impression was too
faint thoroughly to distinguish the shape, but it seemed to us both
that it was the print of a naked foot. This phenomenon ceased when we
arrived at the opposite wall, nor did it repeat itself on returning.
We remounted the stairs, and entered the rooms on the ground floor, a
dining parlour, a small back-parlour, and a still smaller third room
that had been probably appropriated to a footman--all still as death.
We then visited the drawing-rooms, which seemed fresh and new. In the
front room I seated myself in an arm-chair. F---- placed on the table
the candlestick with which he had lighted us. I told him to shut the
door. As he turned to do so, a chair opposite to me moved from the
wall quickly and noiselessly, and dropped itself about a yard from my
own chair, immediately fronting it.

"Why, this is better than the turning-tables," said I, with a
half-laugh; and as I laughed, my dog put back his head and howled.

F----, coming back, had not observed the movement of the chair. He
employed himself now in stilling the dog. I continued to gaze on the
chair, and fancied I saw on it a pale blue misty outline of a human
figure, but an outline so indistinct that I could only distrust my own
vision. The dog now was quiet.

"Put back that chair opposite to me," said I to F----; "put it back to
the wall."

F---- obeyed. "Was that you, sir?" said he, turning abruptly.

"I!--what?"

"Why, something struck me. I felt it sharply on the shoulder--just
here."

"No," said I. "But we have jugglers present, and though we may not
discover their tricks, we shall catch _them_ before they frighten
_us_."

We did not stay long in the drawing-rooms--in fact, they felt so damp
and so chilly that I was glad to get to the fire upstairs. We locked
the doors of the drawing-rooms--a precaution which, I should observe,
we had taken with all the rooms we had searched below. The bedroom my
servant had selected for me was the best on the floor--a large one,
with two windows fronting the street. The four-posted bed, which took
up no inconsiderable space, was opposite to the fire, which burnt
clear and bright; a door in the wall to the left, between the bed and
the window, communicated with the room which my servant appropriated
to himself. This last was a small room with a sofa-bed, and had no
communication with the landing-place--no other door but that which
conducted to the bedroom I was to occupy. On either side of my
fireplace was a cupboard, without locks, flush with the wall, and
covered with the same dull-brown paper. We examined these cupboards
--only hooks to suspend female dresses--nothing else; we sounded the
walls--evidently solid--the outer walls of the building. Having
finished the survey of these apartments, warmed myself a few moments,
and lighted my cigar, I then, still accompanied by F----, went forth
to complete my reconnoitre. In the landing-place there was another
door; it was closed firmly. "Sir," said my servant, in surprise, "I
unlocked this door with all the others when I first came; it cannot
have got locked from the inside, for--"

Before he had finished his sentence, the door, which neither of us
then was touching, opened quietly of itself. We looked at each other a
single instant. The same thought seized both--some human agency might
be detected here. I rushed in first, my servant followed. A small
blank dreary room without furniture--a few empty boxes and hampers
in a corner--a small window--the shutters closed--not even a
fire-place--no other door but that by which we had entered--no carpet
on the floor, and the floor seemed very old, uneven, worm-eaten,
mended here and there, as was shown by the whiter patches on the wood;
but no living being, and no visible place in which a living being
could have hidden. As we stood gazing round, the door by which we had
entered closed as quietly as it had before opened: we were imprisoned.

For the first time I felt a creep of undefinable horror. Not so my
servant. "Why, they don't think to trap us, sir; I could break that
trumpery door with a kick of my foot."

"Try first if it will open to your hand," said I, shaking off the
vague apprehension that had seized me, "while I unclose the shutters
and see what is without."

I unbarred the shutters--the window looked on the little back yard I
have before described; there was no ledge without--nothing to break
the sheer descent of the wall. No man getting out of that window would
have found any footing till he had fallen on the stones below.

F----, meanwhile, was vainly attempting to open the door. He now
turned round to me and asked my permission to use force. And I should
here state, in justice to the servant, that, far from evincing any
superstitious terrors, his nerve, composure, and even gaiety amidst
circumstances so extraordinary, compelled my admiration, and made me
congratulate myself on having secured a companion in every way fitted
to the occasion. I willingly gave him the permission he required. But
though he was a remarkably strong man, his force was as idle as his
milder efforts; the door did not even shake to his stoutest kick.
Breathless and panting, he desisted. I then tried the door myself,
equally in vain. As I ceased from the effort, again that creep of
horror came over me; but this time it was more cold and stubborn. I
felt as if some strange and ghastly exhalation were rising up from
the chinks of that rugged floor, and filling the atmosphere with a
venomous influence hostile to human life. The door now very slowly and
quietly opened as of its own accord. We precipitated ourselves into
the landing-place. We both saw a large pale light--as large as the
human figure, but shapeless and unsubstantial--move before us, and
ascend the stairs that led from the landing into the attics. I
followed the light, and my servant followed me. It entered, to the
right of the landing, a small garret, of which the door stood open.
I entered in the same instant. The light then collapsed into a small
globule, exceedingly brilliant and vivid; rested a moment on a bed in
the corner, quivered, and vanished. We approached the bed and examined
it--a half-tester, such as is commonly found in attics devoted to
servants. On the drawers that stood near it we perceived an old faded
silk kerchief, with the needle still left in a rent half repaired. The
kerchief was covered with dust; probably it had belonged to the old
woman who had last died in that house, and this might have been her
sleeping room. I had sufficient curiosity to open the drawers: there
were a few odds and ends of female dress, and two letters tied round
with a narrow ribbon of faded yellow. I took the liberty to possess
myself of the letters. We found nothing else in the room worth
noticing--nor did the light reappear; but we distinctly heard, as we
turned to go, a pattering footfall on the floor--just before us.
We went through the other attics (in all four), the footfall still
preceding us. Nothing to be seen--nothing but the footfall heard. I
had the letters in my hand: just as I was descending the stairs I
distinctly felt my wrist seized, and a faint soft effort made to draw
the letters from my clasp. I only held them the more tightly, and the
effort ceased.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18