Chapter 33
One wintry evening, early in the year of our Lord one thousand sevenhundred and eighty, a keen north wind arose as it grew dark, and nightcame on with black and dismal looks. A bitter storm of sleet, sharp,dense, and icy-cold, swept the wet streets, and rattled on the tremblingwindows. Signboards, shaken past endurance in their creaking frames,fell crashing on the pavement; old tottering chimneys reeled andstaggered in the blast; and many a steeple rocked again that night, asthough the earth were troubled.
It was not a time for those who could by any means get light and warmth,to brave the fury of the weather. In coffee-houses of the better sort,guests crowded round the fire, forgot to be political, and told eachother with a secret gladness that the blast grew fiercer every minute.Each humble tavern by the water-side, had its group of uncouth figuresround the hearth, who talked of vessels foundering at sea, and all handslost; related many a dismal tale of shipwreck and drowned men, andhoped that some they knew were safe, and shook their heads in doubt.In private dwellings, children clustered near the blaze; listening withtimid pleasure to tales of ghosts and goblins, and tall figures cladin white standing by bed-sides, and people who had gone to sleep in oldchurches and being overlooked had found themselves alone there at thedead hour of the night: until they shuddered at the thought of the darkrooms upstairs, yet loved to hear the wind moan too, and hoped it wouldcontinue bravely. From time to time these happy indoor people stopped tolisten, or one held up his finger and cried 'Hark!' and then, above therumbling in the chimney, and the fast pattering on the glass, was hearda wailing, rushing sound, which shook the walls as though a giant's handwere on them; then a hoarse roar as if the sea had risen; then such awhirl and tumult that the air seemed mad; and then, with a lengthenedhowl, the waves of wind swept on, and left a moment's interval of rest.
Cheerily, though there were none abroad to see it, shone the Maypolelight that evening. Blessings on the red--deep, ruby, glowing red--oldcurtain of the window; blending into one rich stream of brightness, fireand candle, meat, drink, and company, and gleaming like a jovialeye upon the bleak waste out of doors! Within, what carpet like itscrunching sand, what music merry as its crackling logs, what perfumelike its kitchen's dainty breath, what weather genial as its heartywarmth! Blessings on the old house, how sturdily it stood! How did thevexed wind chafe and roar about its stalwart roof; how did it pantand strive with its wide chimneys, which still poured forth from theirhospitable throats, great clouds of smoke, and puffed defiance in itsface; how, above all, did it drive and rattle at the casement, emulousto extinguish that cheerful glow, which would not be put down and seemedthe brighter for the conflict!
The profusion too, the rich and lavish bounty, of that goodly tavern! Itwas not enough that one fire roared and sparkled on its spacious hearth;in the tiles which paved and compassed it, five hundred flickering firesburnt brightly also. It was not enough that one red curtain shut thewild night out, and shed its cheerful influence on the room. In everysaucepan lid, and candlestick, and vessel of copper, brass, or tinthat hung upon the walls, were countless ruddy hangings, flashing andgleaming with every motion of the blaze, and offering, let the eyewander where it might, interminable vistas of the same rich colour. Theold oak wainscoting, the beams, the chairs, the seats, reflected it ina deep, dull glimmer. There were fires and red curtains in the very eyesof the drinkers, in their buttons, in their liquor, in the pipes theysmoked.
Mr Willet sat in what had been his accustomed place five years before,with his eyes on the eternal boiler; and had sat there since the clockstruck eight, giving no other signs of life than breathing with a loudand constant snore (though he was wide awake), and from time to timeputting his glass to his lips, or knocking the ashes out of his pipe,and filling it anew. It was now half-past ten. Mr Cobb and long PhilParkes were his companions, as of old, and for two mortal hours and ahalf, none of the company had pronounced one word.
Whether people, by dint of sitting together in the same place and thesame relative positions, and doing exactly the same things for a greatmany years, acquire a sixth sense, or some unknown power of influencingeach other which serves them in its stead, is a question for philosophyto settle. But certain it is that old John Willet, Mr Parkes, and MrCobb, were one and all firmly of opinion that they were very jollycompanions--rather choice spirits than otherwise; that they looked ateach other every now and then as if there were a perpetual interchangeof ideas going on among them; that no man considered himself or hisneighbour by any means silent; and that each of them nodded occasionallywhen he caught the eye of another, as if he would say, 'You haveexpressed yourself extremely well, sir, in relation to that sentiment,and I quite agree with you.'
The room was so very warm, the tobacco so very good, and the fire sovery soothing, that Mr Willet by degrees began to doze; but as he hadperfectly acquired, by dint of long habit, the art of smoking in hissleep, and as his breathing was pretty much the same, awake or asleep,saving that in the latter case he sometimes experienced a slightdifficulty in respiration (such as a carpenter meets with when he isplaning and comes to a knot), neither of his companions was aware of thecircumstance, until he met with one of these impediments and was obligedto try again.
'Johnny's dropped off,' said Mr Parkes in a whisper.
'Fast as a top,' said Mr Cobb.
Neither of them said any more until Mr Willet came to another knot--oneof surpassing obduracy--which bade fair to throw him into convulsions,but which he got over at last without waking, by an effort quitesuperhuman.
'He sleeps uncommon hard,' said Mr Cobb.
Mr Parkes, who was possibly a hard-sleeper himself, replied with somedisdain, 'Not a bit on it;' and directed his eyes towards a handbillpasted over the chimney-piece, which was decorated at the top with awoodcut representing a youth of tender years running away very fast,with a bundle over his shoulder at the end of a stick, and--to carryout the idea--a finger-post and a milestone beside him. Mr Cobb likewiseturned his eyes in the same direction, and surveyed the placard as ifthat were the first time he had ever beheld it. Now, this was a documentwhich Mr Willet had himself indited on the disappearance of his sonJoseph, acquainting the nobility and gentry and the public in generalwith the circumstances of his having left his home; describing his dressand appearance; and offering a reward of five pounds to any person orpersons who would pack him up and return him safely to the Maypole atChigwell, or lodge him in any of his Majesty's jails until such time ashis father should come and claim him. In this advertisement Mr Willethad obstinately persisted, despite the advice and entreaties of hisfriends, in describing his son as a 'young boy;' and furthermore asbeing from eighteen inches to a couple of feet shorter than he reallywas; two circumstances which perhaps accounted, in some degree, for itsnever having been productive of any other effect than the transmissionto Chigwell at various times and at a vast expense, of somefive-and-forty runaways varying from six years old to twelve.
Mr Cobb and Mr Parkes looked mysteriously at this composition, at eachother, and at old John. From the time he had pasted it up with his ownhands, Mr Willet had never by word or sign alluded to the subject, orencouraged any one else to do so. Nobody had the least notion what histhoughts or opinions were, connected with it; whether he remembered itor forgot it; whether he had any idea that such an event had ever takenplace. Therefore, even while he slept, no one ventured to refer to it inhis presence; and for such sufficient reasons, these his chosen friendswere silent now.
Mr Willet had got by this time into such a complication of knots,that it was perfectly clear he must wake or die. He chose the formeralternative, and opened his eyes.
'If he don't come in five minutes,' said John, 'I shall have supperwithout him.'
The antecedent of this pronoun had been mentioned for the last timeat eight o'clock. Messrs Parkes and Cobb being used to this style ofconversation, replied without difficulty that to be sure Solomon wasvery late, and they wondered what had happened to detain him.
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p; 'He an't blown away, I suppose,' said Parkes. 'It's enough to carry aman of his figure off his legs, and easy too. Do you hear it? It blowsgreat guns, indeed. There'll be many a crash in the Forest to-night, Ireckon, and many a broken branch upon the ground to-morrow.'
'It won't break anything in the Maypole, I take it, sir,' returned oldJohn. 'Let it try. I give it leave--what's that?'
'The wind,' cried Parkes. 'It's howling like a Christian, and has beenall night long.'
'Did you ever, sir,' asked John, after a minute's contemplation, 'hearthe wind say "Maypole"?'
'Why, what man ever did?' said Parkes.
'Nor "ahoy," perhaps?' added John.
'No. Nor that neither.'
'Very good, sir,' said Mr Willet, perfectly unmoved; 'then if thatwas the wind just now, and you'll wait a little time without speaking,you'll hear it say both words very plain.'
Mr Willet was right. After listening for a few moments, they couldclearly hear, above the roar and tumult out of doors, this shoutrepeated; and that with a shrillness and energy, which denoted that itcame from some person in great distress or terror. They looked at eachother, turned pale, and held their breath. No man stirred.
It was in this emergency that Mr Willet displayed something of thatstrength of mind and plenitude of mental resource, which rendered himthe admiration of all his friends and neighbours. After looking atMessrs Parkes and Cobb for some time in silence, he clapped his twohands to his cheeks, and sent forth a roar which made the glasses danceand rafters ring--a long-sustained, discordant bellow, that rolledonward with the wind, and startling every echo, made the night a hundredtimes more boisterous--a deep, loud, dismal bray, that sounded like ahuman gong. Then, with every vein in his head and face swollen with thegreat exertion, and his countenance suffused with a lively purple, hedrew a little nearer to the fire, and turning his back upon it, saidwith dignity:
'If that's any comfort to anybody, they're welcome to it. If it an't,I'm sorry for 'em. If either of you two gentlemen likes to go out andsee what's the matter, you can. I'm not curious, myself.'
While he spoke the cry drew nearer and nearer, footsteps passed thewindow, the latch of the door was raised, it opened, was violently shutagain, and Solomon Daisy, with a lighted lantern in his hand, and therain streaming from his disordered dress, dashed into the room.
A more complete picture of terror than the little man presented, itwould be difficult to imagine. The perspiration stood in beads upon hisface, his knees knocked together, his every limb trembled, the powerof articulation was quite gone; and there he stood, panting for breath,gazing on them with such livid ashy looks, that they were infected withhis fear, though ignorant of its occasion, and, reflecting his dismayedand horror-stricken visage, stared back again without venturing toquestion him; until old John Willet, in a fit of temporary insanity,made a dive at his cravat, and, seizing him by that portion of hisdress, shook him to and fro until his very teeth appeared to rattle inhis head.
'Tell us what's the matter, sir,' said John, 'or I'll kill you. Tell uswhat's the matter, sir, or in another second I'll have your head underthe biler. How dare you look like that? Is anybody a-following of you?What do you mean? Say something, or I'll be the death of you, I will.'
Mr Willet, in his frenzy, was so near keeping his word to the veryletter (Solomon Daisy's eyes already beginning to roll in an alarmingmanner, and certain guttural sounds, as of a choking man, to issue fromhis throat), that the two bystanders, recovering in some degree,plucked him off his victim by main force, and placed the little clerkof Chigwell in a chair. Directing a fearful gaze all round the room, heimplored them in a faint voice to give him some drink; and above all tolock the house-door and close and bar the shutters of the room, withouta moment's loss of time. The latter request did not tend to reassurehis hearers, or to fill them with the most comfortable sensations; theycomplied with it, however, with the greatest expedition; and havinghanded him a bumper of brandy-and-water, nearly boiling hot, waited tohear what he might have to tell them.
'Oh, Johnny,' said Solomon, shaking him by the hand. 'Oh, Parkes. Oh,Tommy Cobb. Why did I leave this house to-night! On the nineteenth ofMarch--of all nights in the year, on the nineteenth of March!'
They all drew closer to the fire. Parkes, who was nearest to the door,started and looked over his shoulder. Mr Willet, with great indignation,inquired what the devil he meant by that--and then said, 'God forgiveme,' and glanced over his own shoulder, and came a little nearer.
'When I left here to-night,' said Solomon Daisy, 'I little thought whatday of the month it was. I have never gone alone into the church afterdark on this day, for seven-and-twenty years. I have heard it saidthat as we keep our birthdays when we are alive, so the ghosts ofdead people, who are not easy in their graves, keep the day they diedupon.--How the wind roars!'
Nobody spoke. All eyes were fastened on Solomon.
'I might have known,' he said, 'what night it was, by the foul weather.There's no such night in the whole year round as this is, always. Inever sleep quietly in my bed on the nineteenth of March.'
'Go on,' said Tom Cobb, in a low voice. 'Nor I neither.'
Solomon Daisy raised his glass to his lips; put it down upon the floorwith such a trembling hand that the spoon tinkled in it like a littlebell; and continued thus:
'Have I ever said that we are always brought back to this subject insome strange way, when the nineteenth of this month comes round? Doyou suppose it was by accident, I forgot to wind up the church-clock? Inever forgot it at any other time, though it's such a clumsy thing thatit has to be wound up every day. Why should it escape my memory on thisday of all others?
'I made as much haste down there as I could when I went from here, butI had to go home first for the keys; and the wind and rain being deadagainst me all the way, it was pretty well as much as I could do attimes to keep my legs. I got there at last, opened the church-door, andwent in. I had not met a soul all the way, and you may judge whether itwas dull or not. Neither of you would bear me company. If you could haveknown what was to come, you'd have been in the right.
'The wind was so strong, that it was as much as I could do to shut thechurch-door by putting my whole weight against it; and even as it was,it burst wide open twice, with such strength that any of you would havesworn, if you had been leaning against it, as I was, that somebody waspushing on the other side. However, I got the key turned, went into thebelfry, and wound up the clock--which was very near run down, and wouldhave stood stock-still in half an hour.
'As I took up my lantern again to leave the church, it came upon me allat once that this was the nineteenth of March. It came upon me with akind of shock, as if a hand had struck the thought upon my forehead;at the very same moment, I heard a voice outside the tower--rising fromamong the graves.'
Here old John precipitately interrupted the speaker, and begged that ifMr Parkes (who was seated opposite to him and was staring directly overhis head) saw anything, he would have the goodness to mention it. MrParkes apologised, and remarked that he was only listening; to which MrWillet angrily retorted, that his listening with that kind of expressionin his face was not agreeable, and that if he couldn't look like otherpeople, he had better put his pocket-handkerchief over his head.Mr Parkes with great submission pledged himself to do so, if againrequired, and John Willet turning to Solomon desired him to proceed.After waiting until a violent gust of wind and rain, which seemed toshake even that sturdy house to its foundation, had passed away, thelittle man complied:
'Never tell me that it was my fancy, or that it was any other soundwhich I mistook for that I tell you of. I heard the wind whistle throughthe arches of the church. I heard the steeple strain and creak. I heardthe rain as it came driving against the walls. I felt the bells shake. Isaw the ropes sway to and fro. And I heard that voice.'
'What did it say?' asked Tom Cobb.
'I don't know what; I don't know that it spoke. It gave a kind of cry,as any one of us might do, if something dreadfu
l followed us in a dream,and came upon us unawares; and then it died off: seeming to pass quiteround the church.'
'I don't see much in that,' said John, drawing a long breath, andlooking round him like a man who felt relieved.
'Perhaps not,' returned his friend, 'but that's not all.'
'What more do you mean to say, sir, is to come?' asked John, pausing inthe act of wiping his face upon his apron. 'What are you a-going to tellus of next?'
'What I saw.'
'Saw!' echoed all three, bending forward.
'When I opened the church-door to come out,' said the little man, withan expression of face which bore ample testimony to the sincerity ofhis conviction, 'when I opened the church-door to come out, which I didsuddenly, for I wanted to get it shut again before another gust of windcame up, there crossed me--so close, that by stretching out my fingerI could have touched it--something in the likeness of a man. It wasbare-headed to the storm. It turned its face without stopping, and fixedits eyes on mine. It was a ghost--a spirit.'
'Whose?' they all three cried together.
In the excess of his emotion (for he fell back trembling in his chair,and waved his hand as if entreating them to question him no further),his answer was lost on all but old John Willet, who happened to beseated close beside him.
'Who!' cried Parkes and Tom Cobb, looking eagerly by turns at SolomonDaisy and at Mr Willet. 'Who was it?'
'Gentlemen,' said Mr Willet after a long pause, 'you needn't ask. Thelikeness of a murdered man. This is the nineteenth of March.'
A profound silence ensued.
'If you'll take my advice,' said John, 'we had better, one and all, keepthis a secret. Such tales would not be liked at the Warren. Let us keepit to ourselves for the present time at all events, or we may get intotrouble, and Solomon may lose his place. Whether it was really as hesays, or whether it wasn't, is no matter. Right or wrong, nobody wouldbelieve him. As to the probabilities, I don't myself think,' said MrWillet, eyeing the corners of the room in a manner which showed that,like some other philosophers, he was not quite easy in his theory,'that a ghost as had been a man of sense in his lifetime, would be outa-walking in such weather--I only know that I wouldn't, if I was one.'
But this heretical doctrine was strongly opposed by the other three,who quoted a great many precedents to show that bad weather was the verytime for such appearances; and Mr Parkes (who had had a ghost in hisfamily, by the mother's side) argued the matter with so much ingenuityand force of illustration, that John was only saved from having toretract his opinion by the opportune appearance of supper, to which theyapplied themselves with a dreadful relish. Even Solomon Daisy himself,by dint of the elevating influences of fire, lights, brandy, and goodcompany, so far recovered as to handle his knife and fork in a highlycreditable manner, and to display a capacity both of eating anddrinking, such as banished all fear of his having sustained any lastinginjury from his fright.
Supper done, they crowded round the fire again, and, as is common onsuch occasions, propounded all manner of leading questions calculatedto surround the story with new horrors and surprises. But Solomon Daisy,notwithstanding these temptations, adhered so steadily to his originalaccount, and repeated it so often, with such slight variations, and withsuch solemn asseverations of its truth and reality, that his hearerswere (with good reason) more astonished than at first. As he took JohnWillet's view of the matter in regard to the propriety of not bruitingthe tale abroad, unless the spirit should appear to him again, in whichcase it would be necessary to take immediate counsel with the clergyman,it was solemnly resolved that it should be hushed up and kept quiet.And as most men like to have a secret to tell which may exalt their ownimportance, they arrived at this conclusion with perfect unanimity.
As it was by this time growing late, and was long past their usual hourof separating, the cronies parted for the night. Solomon Daisy, with afresh candle in his lantern, repaired homewards under the escort of longPhil Parkes and Mr Cobb, who were rather more nervous than himself. MrWillet, after seeing them to the door, returned to collect his thoughtswith the assistance of the boiler, and to listen to the storm of windand rain, which had not yet abated one jot of its fury.