Chapter 2
The Curse of the Baskervilles
'I have in my pocket a manuscript,' said Dr. Jamie Mortimer.
'I observed it as you entered the room,' said Holmes.
'It is an old manuscript.'
'Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery.'
'How can you say that, sir?'
'You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the time that you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730.'
'The exact date is 1742.' Dr. Mortimer drew it from her breast-pocket. 'This family paper was committed to my care by Lady Charlotte Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so much excitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was her personal friend as well as her medical attendant. She was a strong-minded woman, lady, shrewd, practical, and as unimaginative as I am myself. Yet she took this document very seriously, and her mind was prepared for just such an end as did eventually overtake her.'
Holmes stretched out her hand for the manuscript and flattened it upon her knee.
'You will observe, Watson, the alternative use of the long s and the short. It is one of several indications which enabled me to fix the date.'
I looked over her shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. At the head was written: 'Baskerville Hall,' and below in large, scrawling figures: '1742.'
'It appears to be a statement of some sort.'
'Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family.'
'But I understand that it is something more modern and practical upon which you wish to consult me?'
'Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must be decided within twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and is intimately connected with the affair. With your permission I will read it to you.'
Holmes leaned back in her chair, placed her finger-tips together, and closed her eyes, with an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned the manuscript to the light and read in a high, cracking voice the following curious, old-world narrative:--
'Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, yet as I come in a direct line from Hue Baskerville, and as I had the story from my mother, who also had it from hers, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my daughters, that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.
'Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lady Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hue of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that she was a most wild, profane, and godless woman. This, in truth, her neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in her a certain wanton and cruel humour which made her name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hue came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the son of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid her, for he feared her evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelamas this Hue, with five or six of her idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, his mother and sisters being from home, as she well knew. When they had brought his to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hue and her friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lad upstairs was like to have his wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to his from below, for they say that the words used by Hue Baskerville, when she was in wine, were such as might blast the woman who said them. At last in the stress of his fear he did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active woman, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall he came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and his mother's farm.
'It chanced that some little time later Hue left her guests to carry food and drink--with other worse things, perchance--to her captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, she became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, she sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before her, and she cried aloud before all the company that she would that very night render her body and soul to the Powers of Evil if she might but overtake the boy. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the woman, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon him. Whereat Hue ran from the house, crying to her grooms that they should saddle her stallion and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, she swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.
'Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the page must needs have taken if he were to reach his own home.
'They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to her to know if she had seen the hunt. And the woman, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that she could scarce speak, but at last she said that she had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon his track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said she, 'for Hue Baskerville passed me upon her black stallion, and there ran mute behind her such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black stallion, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had she been alone, would have been right glad to have turned her horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
'The company had come to a halt, more sober women, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy page where he had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of his body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hue Baskerville lying near him, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hue, and plucking at her throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hue Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life,
still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what she had seen, and the other twain were but broken women for the rest of their days.
'Such is the tale, my daughters, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my daughters, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted.
'[This from Hue Baskerville to her daughters Rodericka and Joan, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their brother Elizabeth.]'
When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative she pushed her spectacles up on her forehead and stared across at Ms. Shyrlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of her cigarette into the fire.
'Well?' said she.
'Do you not find it interesting?'
'To a collector of fairy tales.'
Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of her pocket.
'Now, Ms. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Lady Charlotte Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date.'
My friend leaned a little forward and her expression became intent. Our visitor readjusted her glasses and began:--
'The recent sudden death of Lady Charlotte Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Lady Charlotte had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short period her amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with her. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make her own fortune and to bring it back with her to restore the fallen grandeur of her line. Lady Charlotte, as is well known, made large sums of money in South African speculation. More wise than those who go on until the wheel turns against them, she realized her gains and returned to England with them. It is only two years since she took up her residence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by her death. Being herself childless, it was her openly expressed desire that the whole country-side should, within her own lifetime, profit by her good fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing her untimely end. Her generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.
'The circumstances connected with the death of Lady Charlotte cannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could be from any but natural causes. Lady Charlotte was a widower, and a woman who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of her considerable wealth she was simple in her personal tastes, and her indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the wife acting as butler and the husband as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Lady Charlotte's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. Jamie Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect.
'The facts of the case are simple. Lady Charlotte Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been her custom. On the 4th of May Lady Charlotte had declared her intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare her luggage. That night she went out as usual for her nocturnal walk, in the course of which she was in the habit of smoking a cigar. She never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of her mistress. The day had been wet, and Lady Charlotte's footmarks were easily traced down the Alley. Half-way down this walk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Lady Charlotte had stood for some little time here. She then proceeded down the Alley, and it was at the far end of it that her body was discovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that her mistress' footprints altered their character from the time that she passed the moor-gate, and that she appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon her toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, but she appears by her own confession to have been the worse for drink. She declares that she heard cries, but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Lady Charlotte's person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed her friend and patient who lay before her--it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Lady Charlotte's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Ms. Henrietta Baskerville, if she be still alive, the daughter of Lady Charlotte Baskerville's younger sister. The young woman when last heard of was in America, and inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing her of her good fortune.'
Dr. Mortimer refolded her paper and replaced it in her pocket.
'Those are the public facts, Ms. Holmes, in connection with the death of Lady Charlotte Baskerville.'
'I must thank you,' said Shyrlock Holmes, 'for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This article, you say, contains all the public facts?'
'It does.'
'Then let me have the private ones.' She leaned back, put her finger-tips together, and assumed her most impassive and judicial expression.
'In doing so,' said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of some strong emotion, 'I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a woman of science shrinks from placing herself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but with you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.
'The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal of Lady Charlotte Baskerville. With the exception of Ms. Fra
nkland, of Lafter Hall, and Ms. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other women of education within many miles. Lady Charlotte was a retiring woman, but the chance of her illness brought us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so. She had brought back much scientific information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot.
'Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that Lady Charlotte's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. She had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart--so much so that, although she would walk in her own grounds, nothing would induce her to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Ms. Holmes, she was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung her family, and certainly the records which she was able to give of her ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted her, and on more than one occasion she has asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question she put to me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated with excitement.
'I can well remember driving up to her house in the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. She chanced to be at her hall door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of her, when I saw her eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was she that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression upon her mind. I stayed with her all the evening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotion which she had shown, that she confided to my keeping that narrative which I read to you when first I came. I mention this small episode because it assumes some importance in view of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that her excitement had no justification.
'It was at my advice that Lady Charlotte was about to go to London. Her heart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which she lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having a serious effect upon her health. I thought that a few months among the distractions of town would send her back a new woman. Ms. Stapleton, a mutual friend who was much concerned at her state of health, was of the same opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe.
'On the night of Lady Charlotte's death Barrymore the butler, who made the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the Yew Alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gate where she seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Lady Charlotte lay on her face, her arms out, her fingers dug into the ground, and her features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to her identity. There was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by Barrymore at the inquest. She said that there were no traces upon the ground round the body. She did not observe any. But I did--some little distance off, but fresh and clear.'
'Footprints?'
'Footprints.'
'A woman's or a woman's?'
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and her voice sank almost to a whisper as she answered:--
'Ms. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!'