BLUEBEARD'S GHOST.
BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
For some time after the fatal accident which deprived her of herhusband, Mrs. Bluebeard was, as may be imagined, in a state of profoundgrief.
There was not a widow in all the country who went to such an expense forblack bombazine. She had her beautiful hair confined in crimped caps,and her weepers came over her elbows. Of course, she saw no companyexcept her sister Anne (whose company was anything but pleasant to thewidow); as for her brothers, their odious mess-table manners had alwaysbeen disagreeable to her. What did she care for jokes about the major,or scandal concerning the Scotch surgeon of the regiment? If they dranktheir wine out of black bottles or crystal, what did it matter to her?Their stories of the stable, the parade, and the last run with thehounds, were perfectly odious to her; besides, she could not bear theirimpertinent mustachios, and filthy habit of smoking cigars.
They were always wild, vulgar young men, at the best; but now,--_now_,O, their presence to her delicate soul was horror! How could she bear tolook on them after what had occurred? She thought of the best ofhusbands ruthlessly cut down by their cruel, heavy, cavalry sabres; thekind friend, the generous landlord, the spotless justice of peace, inwhose family differences these rude cornets of dragoons had dared tointerfere, whose venerable blue hairs they had dragged down with sorrowto the grave.
She put up a most splendid monument to her departed lord over the familyvault of the Bluebeards. The rector, Dr. Sly, who had been Mr.Bluebeard's tutor at college, wrote an epitaph in the most pompous yetpathetic Latin: "Siste, viator! moerens conjux, heu! quanto minus estcum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse"; in a word, everything that isusually said in epitaphs. A bust of the departed saint, with Virtuemourning over it, stood over the epitaph, surrounded by medallions ofhis wives, and one of these medallions had as yet no name in it, nor(the epitaph said) could the widow ever be consoled until her own namewas inscribed there. "For then I shall be with him. In coelo quies,"she would say, throwing up her fine eyes to heaven, and quoting theenormous words of the hatchment which was put up in the church, and overBluebeard's hall, where the butler, the housekeeper, the footman, thehousemaid, and scullions were all in the profoundest mourning. Thekeeper went out to shoot birds in a crape band; nay, the very scarecrowsin the orchard and fruit garden were ordered to be dressed in black.
Sister Anne was the only person who refused to wear black. Mrs.Bluebeard would have parted with her, but she had no other femalerelative. Her father, it may be remembered by readers of the former partof her Memoirs, had married again, and the mother-in-law and Mrs.Bluebeard, as usual, hated each other furiously. Mrs. Shacabac had cometo the hall on a visit of condolence; but the widow was so rude to heron the second day of the visit that the step-mother quitted the house ina fury. As for the Bluebeards, of course _they_ hated the widow. Had notMr. Bluebeard settled every shilling upon her? and, having no childrenby his former marriage, her property, as I leave you to fancy, waspretty handsome. So Sister Anne was the only female relative whom Mrs.Bluebeard would keep near her; and, as we all know, a woman _must_ havea female relative under any circumstances of pain, or pleasure, orprofit,--when she is married, or when she is widowed, or when she is ina delicate situation. But let us continue our story.
"I will never wear mourning for that odious wretch, sister!" Anne wouldcry.
"I will trouble you, Miss Anne, not to use such words in my presenceregarding the best of husbands, or to quit the room at once!" the widowwould answer.
"I'm sure it's no great pleasure to sit in it. I wonder you don't makeuse of the closet, sister, where the _other_ Mrs. Bluebeards are."
"Impertinence! they were all embalmed by M. Gannal. How dare you reportthe monstrous calumnies regarding the best of men? Take down the familyBible, and read what my blessed saint says of his wives,--read it,written in his own hand:--
"'_Friday, June 20_.--Married my beloved wife, Anna Maria Scrogginsia.
"'_Saturday, August 1_.--A bereaved husband has scarcely strength to write down in this chronicle that the dearest of wives, Anna Maria Scrogginsia, expired this day of sore throat.'
"There! can anything be more convincing than that? Read again:--
"'_Tuesday, September 1_.--This day I led to the hymeneal altar my soul's blessing, Louisa Matilda Hopkinson. May this angel supply the place of her I have lost!
"'_Wednesday, October 5_.--O Heavens! pity the distraction of a wretch who is obliged to record the ruin of his dearest hopes and affections! This day my adored Louisa Matilda Hopkinson gave up the ghost! A complaint of the head and shoulders was the sudden cause of the event which has rendered the unhappy subscriber the most miserable of men.
"'BLUEBEARD.'
"Every one of the women are calendared in this delightful, thispathetic, this truly virtuous and tender way; and can you suppose that aman who wrote such sentiments could be a _murderer_, miss?"
"Do you mean to say that he did not _kill_ them, then?" said Anne.
"Gracious goodness, Anne, kill them! they died all as naturally as Ihope you will. My blessed husband was an angel of goodness and kindnessto them. Was it _his_ fault that the doctors could not cure theirmaladies? No, that it wasn't! and when they died the inconsolablehusband had their bodies embalmed in order that on this side of thegrave he might never part from them."
"And why did he take you up in the tower, pray? And why did you send mein such a hurry to the leads? and why did he sharpen his long knife, androar out to you to COME DOWN?"
"Merely to punish me for my curiosity,--the dear, good, kind, excellentcreature!" sobbed the widow, overpowered with affectionate recollectionsof her lord's attentions to her.
"I wish," said Sister Anne, sulkily, "that I had not been in such ahurry in summoning my brothers."
"Ah!" screamed Mrs. Bluebeard, with a harrowing scream, "don't,--don'trecall that horrid, fatal day, miss! If you had not misled yourbrothers, my poor, dear, darling Bluebeard would still be in life,still--still the soul's joy of his bereaved Fatima!"
Whether it is that all wives adore husbands when the latter are no more,or whether it is that Fatima's version of the story is really thecorrect one, and that the common impression against Bluebeard is anodious prejudice, and that he no more murdered his wives than you and Ihave, remains yet to be proved, and, indeed, does not much matter forthe understanding of the rest of Mrs. B.'s adventures. And though peoplewill say that Bluebeard's settlement of his whole fortune on his wife,in event of survivorship, was a mere act of absurd mystification, seeingthat he was fully determined to cut her head off after the honeymoon,yet the best test of his real intentions is the profound grief which thewidow manifested for his death, and the fact that he left her mightywell to do in the world.
If any one were to leave you or me a fortune, my dear friend, would webe too anxious to rake up the how and the why? Pooh! pooh! we would takeit and make no bones about it, and Mrs. Bluebeard did likewise. Herhusband's family, it is true, argued the point with her, and said,"Madam, you must perceive that Mr. Bluebeard never intended the fortunefor you, as it was his fixed intention to chop off your head! It isclear that he meant to leave his money to his blood relations, thereforeyou ought in equity to hand it over." But she sent them all off with aflea in their ears, as the saying is, and said, "Your argument may be avery good one, but I will, if you please, keep the money." And sheordered the mourning as we have before shown, and indulged in grief, andexalted everywhere the character of the deceased. If any one would butleave me a fortune, what a funeral and what a character I would givehim!
Bluebeard Hall is situated, as we all very well know, in a remotecountry district, and, although a fine residence, is remarkably gloomyand lonely. To the widow's susceptible mind, after the death of herdarling husband, the place became intolerable. The walk, the lawn, thefountain, the green glades of park over which frisked the dappled deer,all,--all recalled the memory of her belove
d. It was but yesterday that,as they roamed through the park in the calm summer evening, herBluebeard pointed out to the keeper the fat buck he was to kill. "Ah!"said the widow, with tears in her fine eyes, "the artless stag was shotdown, the haunch was cut and roasted, the jelly had been prepared fromthe currant-bushes in the garden that he loved, but my Bluebeard neverate of the venison! Look, Anne sweet, pass we the old oak hall; 'tishung with trophies won by him in the chase, with pictures of the noblerace of Bluebeard! Look! by the fireplace there is the gig-whip, hisriding-whip, the spud with which you know he used to dig the weeds outof the terrace-walk; in that drawer are his spurs, his whistle, hisvisiting-cards, with his dear, dear name engraven upon them! There arethe bits of string that he used to cut off the parcels and keep, becausestring was always useful; his button-hook, and there is the peg on whichhe used to hang his h--h--_hat_!"
Uncontrollable emotions, bursts of passionate tears, would follow thesetender reminiscences of the widow; and the long and short of the matterwas, that she was determined to give up Bluebeard Hall and liveelsewhere; her love for the memory of the deceased, she said, renderedthe place too wretched.
Of course, an envious and sneering world said that she was tired of thecountry, and wanted to marry again; but she little heeded its taunts;and Anne, who hated her step-mother and could not live at home, was fainto accompany her sister to the town where the Bluebeards have had formany years a very large, genteel, old-fashioned house. So she went tothe town-house, where they lived and quarrelled pretty much as usual;and though Anne often threatened to leave her, and go to aboarding-house, of which there were plenty in the place, yet, after all,to live with her sister, and drive out in the carriage with the footmanand coachman in mourning, and the lozenge on the panels, with theBluebeard and Shacabac arms quartered on it, was far more respectable,and so the lovely sisters continued to dwell together.
* * * * *
For a lady under Mrs. Bluebeard's circumstances, the town-house hasother and peculiar advantages. Besides being an exceedingly spacious anddismal brick building, with a dismal iron railing in front, and long,dismal, thin windows, with little panes of glass, it looked out into thechurchyard, where, time out of mind, between two yew-trees, one of whichis cut into the form of a peacock, while the other represents adumb-waiter, it looked into the churchyard where the monument of thelate Bluebeard was placed over the family vault. It was the first thingthe widow saw from her bedroom window in the morning, and 'twas sweet towatch at night, from the parlor, the pallid moonlight lighting up thebust of the departed, and Virtue throwing great black shadows athwartit. Polyanthuses, rhododendra, ranunculuses, and other flowers, with thelargest names and of the most delightful odors, were planted within thelittle iron railing that enclosed the last resting-place of theBluebeards; and the beadle was instructed to half kill any little boyswho might be caught plucking these sweet testimonials of a wife'saffection.
Over the sideboard in the dining-room hung a full-length of Mr.Bluebeard, by Ticklegill, R. A., in a militia uniform, frowning downupon the knives and forks and silver trays. Over the mantel-piece he wasrepresented in a hunting costume, on his favorite horse; there was asticking-plaster silhouette of him in the widow's bedroom, and aminiature in the drawing-room, where he was drawn in a gown of black andgold, holding a gold-tasselled trencher cap with one hand, and with theother pointing to a diagram of Pons Asinorum. This likeness was takenwhen he was a fellow-commoner at St. John's College, Cambridge, andbefore the growth of that blue beard which was the ornament of hismanhood, and a part of which now formed a beautiful blue neck-chain forhis bereaved wife.
Sister Anne said the town-house was even more dismal than thecountry-house, for there was pure air at the Hall, and it was pleasanterto look out on a park than on a churchyard, however fine the monumentsmight be. But the widow said she was a light-minded hussy, and persistedas usual in her lamentations and mourning. The only male whom she wouldadmit within her doors was the parson of the parish, who read sermons toher; and, as his reverence was at least seventy years old, Anne, thoughshe might be ever so much minded to fall in love, had no opportunity toindulge her inclination; and the town-people, scandalous as they mightbe, could not find a word to say against the _liaison_ of the venerableman and the heart-stricken widow.
All other company she resolutely refused. When the players were in thetown, the poor manager, who came to beg her to bespeak a comedy, wasthrust out of the gates by the big butler. Though there were balls,card-parties, and assemblies, Widow Bluebeard would never subscribe toone of them; and even the officers, those all-conquering heroes who makesuch ravages in ladies' hearts, and to whom all ladies' doors arecommonly open, could never get an entry into the widow's house. CaptainWhiskerfield strutted for three weeks up and down before her house, andhad not the least effect upon her. Captain O'Grady (of an Irishregiment) attempted to bribe the servants, and one night actually scaledthe garden wall; but all that he got was his foot in a man-trap, not tomention being dreadfully scarified by the broken glass; and so _he_never made love any more. Finally, Captain Blackbeard, whose whiskersvied in magnitude with those of the deceased Bluebeard himself, althoughhe attended church regularly every week,--he who had not darkened thedoors of a church for ten years before,--even Captain Blackbeard gotnothing by his piety; and the widow never once took her eyes off herbook to look at him. The barracks were in despair; and CaptainWhiskerfield's tailor, who had supplied him with new clothes in order towin the widow's heart, ended by clapping the captain into jail.
His reverence the parson highly applauded the widow's conduct to theofficers; but, being himself rather of a social turn, and fond of a gooddinner and a bottle, he represented to the lovely mourner that sheshould endeavor to divert her grief by a little respectable society, andrecommended that she should from time to time entertain a few grave andsober persons whom he would present to her. As Dr. Sly had an unboundedinfluence over the fair mourner, she acceded to his desires; andaccordingly he introduced to her house some of the most venerable andworthy of his acquaintance,--all married people, however, so that thewidow should not take the least alarm.
It happened that the doctor had a nephew, who was a lawyer in London,and this gentleman came dutifully in the long vacation to pay a visit tohis reverend uncle. "He is none of your roystering, dashing youngfellows," said his reverence; "he is the delight of his mamma andsisters; he never drinks anything stronger than tea; he never missedchurch thrice a Sunday for these twenty years; and I hope, my dear andamiable madam, that you will not object to receive this pattern of youngmen for the sake of your most devoted friend, his uncle."
The widow consented to receive Mr. Sly. He was not a handsome man,certainly. "But what does that matter?" said the doctor. "He is _good_,and virtue is better than all the beauty of all the dragoons in theQueen's service."
Mr. Sly came there to dinner, and he came to tea; and he drove out withthe widow in the carriage with the lozenge on it; and at church hehanded the psalm-book; and, in short, he paid her every attention whichcould be expected from so polite a young gentleman.
At this the town began to talk, as people in towns will. "The doctorkept all bachelors out of the widow's house," said they, "in order thatthat ugly nephew of his may have the field entirely to himself." Thesespeeches were of course heard by Sister Anne, and the little minx wasnot a little glad to take advantage of them, in order to induce hersister to see some more cheerful company. The fact is, the young hussyloved a dance or a game at cards much more than a humdrum conversationover a tea-table; and so she plied her sister day and night with hintsas to the propriety of opening her house, receiving the gentry of thecounty, and spending her fortune.
To this point the widow at length, though with many sighs and vastunwillingness, acceded; and she went so far as to order a very becominghalf-mourning, in which all the world declared she looked charming. "Icarry," said she, "my blessed Bluebeard in my heart,--_that_ is in thedeepest mourning for him, and
when the heart grieves, there is no needof outward show."
So she issued cards for a little quiet tea and supper, and several ofthe best families in the town and neighborhood attended herentertainment. It was followed by another and another; and at lastCaptain Blackbeard was actually introduced, though, of course, he camein plain clothes.
Dr. Sly and his nephew never could abide the captain. "They had heardsome queer stories," they said, "about proceedings in barracks. Who wasit that drank three bottles at a sitting? who had a mare that ran forthe plate? and why was it that Dolly Coddlins left the town sosuddenly?" Mr. Sly turned up the whites of his eyes as his uncle askedthese questions, and sighed for the wickedness of the world. But for allthat he was delighted, especially at the anger which the widowmanifested when the Dolly Coddlins affair was hinted at. She wasfurious, and vowed she would never see the wretch again. The lawyer andhis uncle were charmed. O short-sighted lawyer and parson, do you thinkMrs. Bluebeard would have been so angry if she had not been jealous?--doyou think she would have been jealous if she had not ... had not what?She protested that she no more cared for the captain than she did forone of her footmen; but the next time he called she would not condescendto say a word to him.
"My dearest Miss Anne," said the captain, as he met her in Sir Roger deCoverley (she herself was dancing with Ensign Trippet), "what is thematter with your lovely sister?"
"Dolly Coddlins is the matter," said Miss Anne. "Mr. Sly has told all."And she was down the middle in a twinkling.
The captain blushed so at this monstrous insinuation, that any one couldsee how incorrect it was. He made innumerable blunders in the dance, andwas all the time casting such ferocious glances at Mr. Sly (who did notdance, but sat by the widow and ate ices), that his partner thought hewas mad, and that Mr. Sly became very uneasy.
When the dance was over, he came to pay his respects to the widow, and,in so doing, somehow trod so violently on Mr. Sly's foot, that thatgentleman screamed with pain, and presently went home. But though he wasgone, the widow was not a whit more gracious to Captain Blackbeard. Sherequested Mr. Trippet to order her carriage that night, and went homewithout uttering one single word to Captain Blackbeard.
The next morning, and with a face of preternatural longitude, the Rev.Dr. Sly paid a visit to the widow. "The wickedness and bloodthirstinessof the world," said he, "increase every day. O my dear madam, whatmonsters do we meet in it,--what wretches, what assassins, are allowedto go abroad! Would you believe it, that this morning, as my nephew wastaking his peaceful morning-meal, one of the ruffians from the barrackspresented himself with a challenge from Captain Blackbeard?"
"Is he hurt?" screamed the widow.
"No, my dear friend, my dear Frederick is not hurt. And O, what a joy itwill be to him to think you have that tender solicitude for hiswelfare!"
"You know I have always had the highest respect for him," said thewidow; who, when she screamed, was in truth thinking of somebody else.But the doctor did not choose to interpret her thoughts in that way, andgave all the benefit of them to his nephew.
"That anxiety, dearest madam, which you express for him emboldens me,encourages me, authorizes me, to press a point upon you which I am suremust have entered your thoughts ere now. The dear youth in whom you haveshown such an interest lives but for you! Yes, fair lady, start not athearing that his sole affections are yours; and with what pride shall Icarry to him back the news that he is not indifferent to you!"
"Are they going to fight?" continued the lady, in a breathless state ofalarm. "For Heaven's sake, dearest doctor, prevent the horrid, horridmeeting. Send for a magistrate's warrant; do anything; but do not sufferthose misguided young men to cut each other's throats!"
"Fairest lady, I fly!" said the doctor, and went back to lunch quitedelighted with the evident partiality Mrs. Bluebeard showed for hisnephew. And Mrs. Bluebeard, not content with exhorting him to preventthe duel, rushed to Mr. Pound, the magistrate, informed him of thefacts, got out warrants against both Mr. Sly and the captain, and wouldhave put them into execution; but it was discovered that the formergentleman had abruptly left town, so that the constable could not layhold of him.
It somehow, however, came to be generally known that the widow Bluebeardhad declared herself in favor of Mr. Sly, the lawyer; that she hadfainted when told her lover was about to fight a duel; finally, that shehad accepted him, and would marry him as soon as the quarrel between himand the captain was settled. Dr. Sly, when applied to, hummed and ha'd,and would give no direct answer; but he denied nothing, and looked soknowing, that all the world was certain of the fact; and the countypaper next week stated:--
"We understand that the lovely and wealthy Mrs. Bl--b--rd is about once more to enter the bands of wedlock with our distinguished townsman, Frederick S--y, Esq., of the Middle Temple, London. The learned gentleman left town in consequence of a dispute with a gallant son of Mars, which was likely to have led to warlike results, had not a magistrate's warrant intervened, when the captain was bound over to keep the peace."
In fact, as soon as the captain was so bound over, Mr. Sly came back,stating that he had quitted the town not to avoid a duel,--far from it,but to keep out of the way of the magistrates, and give the captainevery facility. _He_ had taken out no warrant; _he_ had been perfectlyready to meet the captain; if others had been more prudent, it was nothis fault. So he held up his head, and cocked his hat with the mostdetermined air; and all the lawyers' clerks in the place were quiteproud of their hero.
As for Captain Blackbeard, his rage and indignation may be imagined; awife robbed from him, his honor put in question by an odious, lanky,squinting lawyer! He fell ill of a fever incontinently; and the surgeonwas obliged to take a quantity of blood from him, ten times the amountof which he swore he would have out of the veins of the atrocious Sly.
The announcement in "The Mercury," however, filled the widow with almostequal indignation. "The widow of the gallant Bluebeard," she said,"marry an odious wretch who lives in dingy chambers in the MiddleTemple! Send for Dr. Sly." The doctor came; she rated him soundly, askedhim how he dared set abroad such calumnies concerning her; ordered himto send his nephew back to London at once; and as he valued her esteem,as he valued the next presentation to a fat living which lay in hergift, to contradict everywhere, and in the fullest terms, the wickedreport concerning her.
"My dearest madam," said the doctor, pulling his longest face, "youshall be obeyed. The poor lad shall be acquainted with the fatal changein your sentiments!"
"Change in my sentiments, Dr. Sly!"
"With the destruction of his hopes, rather let me say; and Heaven grantthat the dear boy have strength to bear up against the misfortune whichcomes so suddenly upon him!"
The next day Sister Anne came with a face full of care to Mrs.Bluebeard. "O, that unhappy lover of yours!" said she.
"Is the captain unwell?" exclaimed the widow.
"No, it is the other," answered Sister Anne. "Poor, poor Mr. Sly! Hemade a will leaving you all, except five pounds a year to his laundress:he made his will, locked his door, took heart-rending leave of his uncleat night, and this morning was found hanging at his bedpost when Sambo,the black servant, took him up his water to shave. 'Let me be buried,'he said, 'with the pincushion she gave me and the locket containing herhair.' _Did_ you give him a pincushion, sister? _did_ you give him alocket with your hair?"
"It was only silver-gilt!" sobbed the widow; "and now, O Heavens! I havekilled him!" The heart-rending nature of her sobs may be imagined; butthey were abruptly interrupted by her sister.
"Killed him?--no such thing! Sambo cut him down when he was as black inthe face as the honest negro himself. He came down to breakfast, and Ileave you to fancy what a touching meeting took place between the nephewand the uncle."
"So much love!" thought the widow. "What a pity he squints so! If hewould but get his eyes put straight, I might perhaps--" She did notfinish the sentence: ladies often leave this sort of sentence in a s
weetconfusion.
But hearing some news regarding Captain Blackbeard, whose illness andblood-letting were described to her most pathetically, as well asaccurately, by the Scotch surgeon of the regiment, her feelings ofcompassion towards the lawyer cooled somewhat; and when Dr. Sly calledto know if she would condescend to meet the unhappy youth, she said inrather a _distrait_ manner, that she wished him every happiness; thatshe had the highest regard and respect for him; that she besought himnot to think any more of committing the dreadful crime which would havemade her unhappy forever; _but_ that she thought, for the sake of bothparties, they had better not meet until Mr. Sly's feelings had grownsomewhat more calm.
"Poor fellow! poor fellow!" said the doctor, "may he be enabled to bearhis frightful calamity! I have taken away his razors from him, andSambo, my man, never lets him out of his sight."
The next day, Mrs. Bluebeard thought of sending a friendly message toDr. Sly's, asking for news of the health of his nephew; but, as she wasgiving her orders on that subject to John Thomas the footman, ithappened that the captain arrived, and so Thomas was sent down stairsagain. And the captain looked so delightfully interesting with his armin a sling, and his beautiful black whiskers curling round a face whichwas paler than usual, that, at the end of two hours, the widow forgotthe message altogether, and, indeed, I believe, asked the captainwhether he would not stop and dine. Ensign Trippet came, too, and theparty was very pleasant; and the military gentlemen laughed hugely atthe idea of the lawyer having been cut off the bedpost by the blackservant, and were so witty on the subject, that the widow ended by halfbelieving that the bedpost and hanging scheme on the part of Mr. Sly wasonly a feint,--a trick to win her heart. Though this, to be sure, wasnot agreed to by the lady without a pang, for, _entre nous_, to hangone's self for a lady is no small compliment to her attractions, and,perhaps, Mrs. Bluebeard was rather disappointed at the notion that thehanging was not a _bona fide_ strangulation.
However, presently her nerves were excited again; and she was consoledor horrified, as the case may be (the reader must settle the pointaccording to his ideas and knowledge of womankind),--she was at any ratedreadfully excited by the receipt of a billet in the well-knownclerk-like hand of Mr. Sly. It ran thus:--
"I saw you through your dining-room windows. You were hob-nobbing with Captain Blackbeard. You looked rosy and well. You smiled. You drank off the champagne at a single draught.
"I can bear it no more. Live on, smile on, and be happy. My ghost shall repine, perhaps, at your happiness with another,--but in life I should go mad were I to witness it.
"It is best that I should be gone.
"When you receive this, tell my uncle to drag the fish-pond at the end of Bachelor's Acre. His black servant Sambo accompanies me, it is true. But Sambo shall perish with me should his obstinacy venture to restrain me from my purpose. I know the poor fellow's honesty well, but I also know my own despair.
"Sambo will leave a wife and seven children. Be kind to those orphan mulattoes for the sake of
"FREDERICK."
The widow gave a dreadful shriek, and interrupted the two captains, whowere each just in the act of swallowing a bumper of claret."Fly--fly--save him," she screamed; "save him, monsters, ere it is toolate! Drowned!--Frederick!--Bachelor's Wa--" Syncope took place, and therest of the sentence was interrupted.
Deucedly disappointed at being obliged to give up their wine, the twoheroes seized their cocked hats, and went towards the spot which thewidow in her wild exclamations of despair had sufficiently designated.
Trippet was for running to the fish-pond at the rate of ten miles anhour.
"Take it easy, my good fellow," said Captain Blackbeard; "running isunwholesome after dinner. And, if that squinting scoundrel of a lawyer_does_ drown himself, I sha'n't sleep any the worse." So the twogentlemen walked very leisurely on towards the Bachelor's Walk; and,indeed, seeing on their way thither Major Macabaw looking out of thewindow at his quarters and smoking a cigar, they went up stairs toconsult the major, as also a bottle of Schiedam he had.
"They come not!" said the widow, when restored to herself. "O Heavens!grant that Frederick is safe! Sister Anne, go up to the leads and lookif anybody is coming." And up, accordingly, to the garrets Sister Annemounted. "Do you see anybody coming, Sister Anne?"
"I see Dr. Drench's little boy," said Sister Anne; "he is leaving a pilland draught at Miss Molly Grub's."
"Dearest Sister Anne, don't you see any one coming?" shouted the widowonce again.
"I see a flock of dust--no! a cloud of sheep. Pshaw! I see the Londoncoach coming in. There are three outsides, and the guard has flung aparcel to Mrs. Jenkins's maid."
"Distraction! Look once more, Sister Anne."
"I see a crowd,--a shutter,--a shutter with a man on it,--abeadle,--forty little boys,--Gracious goodness! what _can_ it be?" anddown stairs tumbled Sister Anne, and was looking out of theparlor-window by her sister's side, when the crowd she had perceivedfrom the garret passed close by them.
At the head walked the beadle, slashing about at the little boys.
Two scores of these followed and surrounded
A SHUTTER carried by four men.
On the shutter lay _Frederick_! He was ghastly pale; his hair wasdraggled over his face; his clothes stuck tight to him on account of thewet; streams of water gurgled down the shutter-sides. But he was notdead! He turned one eye round towards the window where Mrs. Bluebeardsat, and gave her a look which she never could forget.
Sambo brought up the rear of the procession. He was quite wet through;and, if anything would have put his hair out of curl, his ducking wouldhave done so. But, as he was not a gentleman, he was allowed to walkhome on foot, and, as he passed the widow's window, he gave her onedreadful glance with his goggling black eyes, and moved on, pointingwith his hands to the shutter.
John Thomas the footman was instantly despatched to Dr. Sly's to havenews of the patient. There was no shilly-shallying now. He came back inhalf an hour to say that Mr. Frederick flung himself into Bachelor'sAcre fish-pond with Sambo, had been dragged out with difficulty, hadbeen put to bed, and had a pint of white wine whey, and was prettycomfortable. "Thank Heaven!" said the widow, and gave John Thomas aseven-shilling piece, and sat down with a lightened heart to tea. "Whata heart!" said she to Sister Anne. "And O, what a pity it is that hesquints!"
Here the two captains arrived. They had not been to the Bachelor's Walk;they had remained at Major Macabaw's consulting the Schiedam. They hadmade up their minds what to say. "Hang the fellow! he will never havethe pluck to drown himself," said Captain Blackbeard. "Let us argue onthat, as we may safely."
"My sweet lady," said he, accordingly, "we have had the pond dragged. NoMr. Sly. And the fisherman who keeps the punt assures us that he has notbeen there all day."
"Audacious falsehood!" said the widow, her eyes flashing fire. "Go,heartless man! who dares to trifle thus with the feelings of arespectable and unprotected woman. Go, sir, you're only fit for the loveof a--Dolly--Coddlins!" She pronounced the _Coddlins_ with a witheringsarcasm that struck the captain aghast; and, sailing out of the room,she left her tea untasted, and did not wish either of the militarygentlemen good night.
But, gentles, an' ye know the delicate fibre of woman's heart, ye willnot in very sooth believe that such events as those we havedescribed--such tempests of passion--fierce winds of woe--blindinglightnings of tremendous joy and tremendous grief--could pass over onefrail flower and leave it all unscathed. No! Grief kills as joy doth.Doth not the scorching sun nip the rose-bud as well as the bitter wind?As Mrs. Sigourney sweetly sings:--
"Ah! the heart is a soft and a delicate thing; Ah! the heart is a lute with a thrilling string; A spirit that floats on a gossamer's wing!"
Such was Fatima's heart. In a word, the preceding events had a powerfuleffect upon her nervous system, and she was ordered much quiet andsal-volatile by her skilful medical attendant, Dr. Glauber.
To be so ardently, passionately loved as she was, to know that Frederickhad twice plunged into death from attachment to her, was to awaken inher bosom "a thrilling string," indeed! Could she witness suchattachment and not be touched by it? She _was_ touched by it,--she wasinfluenced by the virtues, by the passion, by the misfortunes, ofFrederick: but then he was so abominably ugly that she could not--shecould not consent to become his bride!
She told Dr. Sly so. "I respect and esteem your nephew," said she; "butmy resolve is made. I will continue faithful to that blessed saint whosemonument is ever before my eyes" (she pointed to the churchyard as shespoke). "Leave this poor tortured heart in quiet. It has alreadysuffered more than most hearts could bear. I will repose under theshadow of that tomb until I am called to rest within it,--to rest by theside of my Bluebeard!"
The ranunculuses, rhododendra, and polyanthuses, which ornamented thatmausoleum, had somehow been suffered to run greatly to seed during thelast few months, and it was with no slight self-accusation that sheacknowledged this fact on visiting "the garden of the grave," as shecalled it; and she scolded the beadle soundly for neglecting his dutytowards it. He promised obedience for the future, dug out all the weedsthat were creeping round the family vault, and (having charge of thekey) entered that awful place, and swept and dusted the melancholycontents of the tomb.
Next morning, the widow came down to breakfast looking very pale. Shehad passed a bad night; she had had awful dreams; she had heard a voicecall her thrice at midnight. "Pooh! my dear, it's only nervousness,"said sceptical Sister Anne.
Here John Thomas, the footman, entered, and said the beadle was in thehall, looking in a very strange way. He had been about the house sincedaybreak, and insisted on seeing Mrs. Bluebeard. "Let him enter," saidthat lady, prepared for some great mystery. The beadle came; he was paleas death; his hair was dishevelled, and his cocked hat out of order."What have you to say?" said the lady, trembling.
Before beginning, he fell down on his knees.
"Yesterday," said he, "according to your ladyship's orders, I dug up theflower-beds of the family vault, dusted the vault and the--the coffins(added he, trembling) inside. Me and John Sexton did it together, andpolished up the plate quite beautiful."
"For Heaven's sake, don't allude to it," cried the widow, turning pale.
"Well, my lady, I locked the door, came away, and found in my hurry--forI wanted to beat two little boys what was playing at marbles on AldermanPaunch's monyment--I found, my lady, I'd forgot my cane.
"I couldn't get John Sexton to go back with me till this morning, and Ididn't like to go alone, and so we went this morning; and what do youthink I found? I found his honor's coffin turned round, and the canebroke in two. Here's the cane!"
"Ah!" screamed the widow, "take it away,--take it away!"
"Well, what does this prove," said Sister Anne, "but that somebody movedthe coffin, and broke the cane?"
"Somebody! _who's somebody?_" said the beadle, staring round about him.And all of a sudden he started back with a tremendous roar, that madethe ladies scream and all the glasses on the sideboard jingle, andcried, "_That's the man!_"
He pointed to the portrait of Bluebeard, which stood over the jinglingglasses on the sideboard. "That's the man I saw last night walking roundthe vault, as I'm a living sinner. I saw him a-walking round and round,and, when I went up to speak to him, I'm blessed if he didn't go in atthe iron gate, which opened afore him like--like winking, and then inat the vault door, which I'd double-locked, my lady, and bolted inside,I'll take my oath on it!"
"Perhaps you had given him the key?" suggested Sister Anne.
"It's never been out of my pocket. Here it is," cried the beadle; "I'llhave no more to do with it." And he flung down the ponderous key, amidstanother scream from Widow Bluebeard.
"At what hour did you see him?" gasped she.
"At twelve o'clock, of course."
"It must have been at that very hour," said she, "I heard the voice."
"What voice?" said Anne.
"A voice that called, 'Fatima! Fatima! Fatima!' three times, as plain asever voice did."
"It didn't speak to me," said the beadle; "it only nodded its head, andwagged its head and beard."
"W--w--was it a _bl--ue beard_?" said the widow.
"Powder-blue, ma'am, as I've a soul to save!"
Dr. Drench was of course instantly sent for. But what are themedicaments of the apothecary in a case where the grave gives up itsdead? Dr. Sly arrived, and he offered ghostly--ah! tooghostly--consolation. He said he believed in them. His own grandmotherhad appeared to his grandfather several times before he married again.He could not doubt that supernatural agencies were possible, evenfrequent.
"Suppose he were to appear to me alone," ejaculated the widow, "I shoulddie of fright."
The doctor looked particularly arch. "The best way in these cases, mydear madam," said he, "the best way for unprotected ladies is to get ahusband. I never heard of a first husband's ghost appearing to a womanand her second husband in my life. In all history there is no account ofone."
"Ah! why should I be afraid of seeing my Bluebeard again?" said thewidow; and the doctor retired quite pleased, for the lady was evidentlythinking of a second husband.
"The captain would be a better protector for me certainly than Mr. Sly,"thought the lady, with a sigh; "but Mr. Sly will certainly kill himself,and will the captain be a match for two ghosts? Sly will kill himself;but ah! the captain won't." And the widow thought with pangs of bittermortification of Dolly Coddlins. How--how should these distractingcircumstances be brought to an end?
She retired to rest that night not without a tremor,--to bed, but not tosleep. At midnight a voice was heard in her room, crying, "Fatima!Fatima! Fatima!" in awful accents. The doors banged to and fro, thebells began to ring, the maids went up and down stairs skurrying andscreaming, and gave warning in a body. John Thomas, as pale as death,declared that he found Bluebeard's yeomanry sword, that hung in thehall, drawn, and on the ground; and the sticking-plaster miniature inMr. Bluebeard's bedroom was found turned topsy-turvy!
"It is some trick," said the obstinate and incredulous Sister Anne."To-night I will come and sleep with you, sister." And the night came,and the two sisters retired together.
'Twas a wild night. The wind howling without went crashing through theold trees of the old rookery round about the old church. The longbedroom windows went thump thumping; the moon could be seen through themlighting up the graves with their ghastly shadows; the yew-tree, cutinto the shape of a bird, looked particularly dreadful, and bent andswayed as if it would peck something off that other yew-tree which wasof the shape of a dumb-waiter. The bells at midnight began to ring asusual, the doors clapped, jingle--jingle down came a suit of armor inthe hall, and a voice came and cried, "Fatima! Fatima! Fatima! look,look, look; the tomb, the tomb, the tomb!"
She looked. The vault door was open, and there in the moonlight stoodBluebeard, exactly as he was represented in the picture, in his yeomanrydress, his face frightfully pale, and his great blue beard curling overhis chest, as awful as Mr. Muntz's.
Sister Anne saw the vision as well as Fatima. We shall spare the accountof their terrors and screams. Strange to say, John Thomas, who slept inthe attic above his mistress's bedroom, declared he was on the watch allnight, and had seen nothing in the churchyard, and heard no sort ofvoices in the house.
And now the question came, What could the ghost want by appearing? "Isthere anything," exclaimed the unhappy and perplexed Fatima, "that hewould have me do? It is well to say 'now, now, now,' and to showhimself; but what is it that makes my blessed husband so uneasy in hisgrave?" And all parties consulted agreed that it was a very sensiblequestion.
John Thomas, the footman, whose excessive terror at the appearance ofthe ghost had procured him his mistress's confidence, advised Mr. Screw,the butler, who communicated with Mrs. Baggs, the housekeeper, whocondescended to impart her observations to Mrs. Bustle, thelady's-maid,-
-John Thomas, I say, decidedly advised that my lady shouldconsult a cunning man. There was such a man in town; he had prophesiedwho should marry his (John Thomas's) cousin; he had cured Farmer Horn'scattle, which were evidently bewitched; he could raise ghosts, and makethem speak, and he therefore was the very person to be consulted in thepresent juncture.
"What nonsense is this you have been talking to the maids, John Thomas,about the conjurer who lives in--in--"
"In Hangman's Lane, ma'am, where the gibbet used to stand," repliedJohn, who was bringing in the muffins. "It's no nonsense, my lady. Everyword as that man says comes true, and he knows everything."
"I desire you will not frighten the girls in the servants' hall with anyof those silly stories," said the widow; and the meaning of this speechmay, of course, at once be guessed. It was that the widow meant toconsult the conjurer that very night. Sister Anne said that she wouldnever, under such circumstances, desert her dear Fatima. John Thomas wassummoned to attend the ladies with a dark lantern, and forth they set ontheir perilous visit to the conjurer at his dreadful abode in Hangman'sLane.
* * * * *
What took place at that frightful interview has never been entirelyknown. But there was no disturbance in the house on the night after. Thebells slept quite quietly, the doors did not bang in the least, twelveo'clock struck, and no ghost appeared in the churchyard, and the wholefamily had a quiet night. The widow attributed this to a sprig ofrosemary which the wizard gave her, and a horseshoe which she flung intothe garden round the family vault, and which would keep _any_ ghostquiet.
It happened the next day, that, going to her milliner's, Sister Anne meta gentleman who has been before mentioned in this story, Ensign Trippetby name; and, indeed, if the truth must be known, it somehow happenedthat she met the ensign somewhere every day of the week.
"What news of the ghost, my dearest Miss Shacabac?" said he (you mayguess on what terms the two young people were by the manner in which Mr.Trippet addressed the lady); "has Bluebeard's ghost frightened yoursister into any more fits, or set the bells a-ringing?"
Sister Anne, with a very grave air, told him that he must not joke on soawful a subject, that the ghost had been laid for a while, that acunning man had told her sister things so wonderful that _any_ man mustbelieve in them; that among other things, he had shown to Fatima herfuture husband.
"Had," said the ensign, "he black whiskers and a red coat?"
"No," answered Anne, with a sigh, "he had red whiskers and a blackcoat."
"It can't be that rascal Sly!" cried the ensign. But Anne only sighedmore deeply and would not answer yes or no. "You may tell the poorcaptain," she said, "there is no hope for him, and all he has left is tohang himself."
"He shall cut the throat of Sly first, though," replied Mr. Trippet,fiercely. But Anne said things were not decided as yet. Fatima wasexceedingly restive, and unwilling to acquiesce in the idea of beingmarried to Mr. Sly; she had asked for further authority. The wizard saidhe could bring her own husband from the grave to point out her secondbridegroom, who shall be, can be, must be, no other than Frederick Sly.
"It is a trick," said the ensign; but Anne was too much frightened bythe preceding evening's occurrences to say so. "To-night," she said,"the grave will tell all." And she left Ensign Trippet in a very solemnand affecting way.
* * * * *
At midnight, three figures were seen to issue from Widow Bluebeard'shouse, and pass through the churchyard turnstile, and so away among thegraves.
"To call up a ghost is bad enough," said the wizard; "to make him speakis awful. I recommend you, ma'am, to beware, for such curiosity has beenfatal to many. There was one Arabian necromancer of my acquaintance whotried to make a ghost speak, and was torn in pieces on the spot. Therewas another person who _did_ hear a ghost speak certainly, but came awayfrom the interview deaf and dumb. There was another--"
"Never mind," says Mrs. Bluebeard, all her old curiosity aroused, "seehim and hear him I will. Haven't I seen him and heard him, too, already?When he's audible _and_ visible, _then_'s the time."
"But when you heard him," said the necromancer, "he was invisible, andwhen you saw him he was inaudible; so make up your mind what you willask him, for ghosts will stand no shilly-shallying. I knew a stutteringman who was flung down by a ghost, and--"
"I _have_ made up my mind," said Fatima, interrupting him.
"To ask him what husband you shall take," whispered Anne.
Fatima only turned red, and Sister Anne squeezed her hand; they passedinto the graveyard in silence.
There was no moon; the night was pitch dark. They threaded their waythrough the graves, stumbling over them here and there. An owl wastoowhooing from the church tower, a dog was howling somewhere, a cockbegan to crow, as they will sometimes at twelve o'clock at night.
"Make haste," said the wizard. "Decide whether you will go on or not."
"Let us go back, sister," said Anne.
"I _will_ go on," said Fatima. "I should die if I gave it up, I feel Ishould."
"Here's the gate; kneel down," said the wizard. The women knelt down.
"Will you see your first husband or your second husband?"
"I will see Bluebeard first," said the widow; "I shall know thenwhether this be a mockery, or you have the power you pretend to."
At this the wizard uttered an incantation, so frightful, and of suchincomprehensible words, that it is impossible for any mortal man torepeat them. And at the end of what seemed to be a versicle of his chanthe called Bluebeard. There was no noise but the moaning of the wind inthe trees, and the toowhooing of the owl in the tower.
At the end of the second verse he paused again, and called _Bluebeard_.The cock began to crow, the dog began to howl, a watchman in the townbegan to cry out the hour, and there came from the vault within a hollowgroan, and a dreadful voice said, "Who wants me?"
Kneeling in front of the tomb, the necromancer began the third verse. Ashe spoke, the former phenomena were still to be remarked. As hecontinued, a number of ghosts rose from their graves, and advanced roundthe kneeling figures in a circle. As he concluded, with a loud bang thedoor of the vault flew open, and there in blue light stood Bluebeard inhis blue uniform, waving his blue sword, and flashing his blue eyesround about!
"Speak now, or you are lost," said the necromancer, to Fatima. But, forthe first time in her life, she had not a word to say. Sister Anne, too,was dumb with terror. And, as the awful figure advanced towards them asthey were kneeling, the sister thought all was over with them, andFatima once more had occasion to repent her fatal curiosity.
The figure advanced, saying, in dreadful accents, "Fatima! Fatima!Fatima! wherefore am I called from my grave?" when all of a sudden downdropped his sword, down the ghost of Bluebeard went on his knees, and,clasping his hands together, roared out, "Murder, mercy!" as loud as mancould roar.
_Six other ghosts_ stood round the kneeling group. "Why do you call mefrom the tomb?" said the first; "Who dares disturb my grave?" said thesecond; "Seize him and away with him!" cried the third. "Murder, mercy!"still roared the ghost of Bluebeard, as the white-robed spirits advancedand caught hold of him.
"It's only Tom Trippet," said a voice at Anne's ear.
"And your very humble servant," said a voice well known to Mrs.Bluebeard; and they helped the ladies to rise, while the other ghostsseized Bluebeard. The necromancer took to his heels and got off; he wasfound to be no other than Mr. Claptrap, the manager of the theatre.
It was some time before the ghost of Bluebeard could recover from thefainting-fit into which he had been plunged when seized by theopposition ghosts in white; and while they were ducking him at the pumphis blue beard came off, and he was discovered to be--who do you think?Why, Mr. Sly, to be sure; and it appears that John Thomas, the footman,had lent him the uniform, and had clapped the doors, and rung the bells,and spoken down the chimney; and it was Mr. Claptrap who gave Mr. Slythe blue fire and the theatr
e gong; and he went to London next morningby the coach; and, as it was discovered that the story concerning MissCoddlins was a shameful calumny, why, of course, the widow marriedCaptain Blackbeard. Dr. Sly married them, and has always declared thathe knew nothing of his nephew's doings, and wondered that he has nottried to commit suicide since his last disappointment.
Mr. and Mrs. Trippet are likewise living happily together, and this, Iam given to understand, is the ultimate fate of a family in whom we wereall very much interested in early life.
You will say that the story is not probable. Pshaw! Isn't it written ina book? and is it a whit less probable than the first part of the tale?