THE FORTUNES OF SIR ROBERT ARDAGH.
Being a second Extract from the Papers of the late Father Purcell.
'The earth hath bubbles as the water hath-- And these are of them.'
In the south of Ireland, and on the borders of the county of Limerick,there lies a district of two or three miles in length, which is renderedinteresting by the fact that it is one of the very few spots throughoutthis country, in which some vestiges of aboriginal forest still remain.It has little or none of the lordly character of the American forest,for the axe has felled its oldest and its grandest trees; but in theclose wood which survives, live all the wild and pleasing peculiaritiesof nature: its complete irregularity, its vistas, in whose perspectivethe quiet cattle are peacefully browsing; its refreshing glades, wherethe grey rocks arise from amid the nodding fern; the silvery shafts ofthe old birch trees; the knotted trunks of the hoary oak, the grotesquebut graceful branches which never shed their honours under the tyrantpruning-hook; the soft green sward; the chequered light and shade; thewild luxuriant weeds; the lichen and the moss--all, all are beautifulalike in the green freshness of spring, or in the sadness and sere ofautumn. Their beauty is of that kind which makes the heart full withjoy--appealing to the affections with a power which belongs to natureonly. This wood runs up, from below the base, to the ridge of a longline of irregular hills, having perhaps, in primitive times, formed butthe skirting of some mighty forest which occupied the level below.
But now, alas! whither have we drifted? whither has the tide ofcivilisation borne us? It has passed over a land unprepared forit--it has left nakedness behind it; we have lost our forests, but ourmarauders remain; we have destroyed all that is picturesque, while wehave retained everything that is revolting in barbarism. Through themidst of this woodland there runs a deep gully or glen, wherethe stillness of the scene is broken in upon by the brawling of amountain-stream, which, however, in the winter season, swells into arapid and formidable torrent.
There is one point at which the glen becomes extremely deep and narrow;the sides descend to the depth of some hundred feet, and are so steep asto be nearly perpendicular. The wild trees which have taken root in thecrannies and chasms of the rock have so intersected and entangled, thatone can with difficulty catch a glimpse of the stream, which wheels,flashes, and foams below, as if exulting in the surrounding silence andsolitude.
This spot was not unwisely chosen, as a point of no ordinary strength,for the erection of a massive square tower or keep, one side of whichrises as if in continuation of the precipitous cliff on which it isbased. Originally, the only mode of ingress was by a narrow portal inthe very wall which overtopped the precipice, opening upon a ledgeof rock which afforded a precarious pathway, cautiously intersected,however, by a deep trench cut with great labour in the living rock; sothat, in its original state, and before the introduction of artilleryinto the art of war, this tower might have been pronounced, and that notpresumptuously, almost impregnable.
The progress of improvement and the increasing security of the timeshad, however, tempted its successive proprietors, if not to adorn, atleast to enlarge their premises, and at about the middle of the lastcentury, when the castle was last inhabited, the original square towerformed but a small part of the edifice.
The castle, and a wide tract of the surrounding country, had from timeimmemorial belonged to a family which, for distinctness, we shall callby the name of Ardagh; and owing to the associations which, in Ireland,almost always attach to scenes which have long witnessed alike theexercise of stern feudal authority, and of that savage hospitality whichdistinguished the good old times, this building has become the subjectand the scene of many wild and extraordinary traditions. One of them Ihave been enabled, by a personal acquaintance with an eye-witness of theevents, to trace to its origin; and yet it is hard to say whether theevents which I am about to record appear more strange or improbable asseen through the distorting medium of tradition, or in the appallingdimness of uncertainty which surrounds the reality.
Tradition says that, sometime in the last century, Sir Robert Ardagh, ayoung man, and the last heir of that family, went abroad and servedin foreign armies; and that, having acquired considerable honour andemolument, he settled at Castle Ardagh, the building we have just nowattempted to describe. He was what the country people call a DARK man;that is, he was considered morose, reserved, and ill-tempered; and, asit was supposed from the utter solitude of his life, was upon no termsof cordiality with the other members of his family.
The only occasion upon which he broke through the solitary monotonyof his life was during the continuance of the racing season, andimmediately subsequent to it; at which time he was to be seen amongthe busiest upon the course, betting deeply and unhesitatingly, andinvariably with success. Sir Robert was, however, too well known as aman of honour, and of too high a family, to be suspected of any unfairdealing. He was, moreover, a soldier, and a man of an intrepid as wellas of a haughty character; and no one cared to hazard a surmise, theconsequences of which would be felt most probably by its originatoronly.
Gossip, however, was not silent; it was remarked that Sir Robert neverappeared at the race-ground, which was the only place of public resortwhich he frequented, except in company with a certain strange-lookingperson, who was never seen elsewhere, or under other circumstances. Itwas remarked, too, that this man, whose relation to Sir Robert was neverdistinctly ascertained, was the only person to whom he seemed to speakunnecessarily; it was observed that while with the country gentryhe exchanged no further communication than what was unavoidable inarranging his sporting transactions, with this person he would converseearnestly and frequently. Tradition asserts that, to enhance thecuriosity which this unaccountable and exclusive preference excited, thestranger possessed some striking and unpleasant peculiarities of personand of garb--she does not say, however, what these were--but they, inconjunction with Sir Robert's secluded habits and extraordinary run ofluck--a success which was supposed to result from the suggestions andimmediate advice of the unknown--were sufficient to warrant report inpronouncing that there was something QUEER in the wind, and in surmisingthat Sir Robert was playing a fearful and a hazardous game, and that, inshort, his strange companion was little better than the devil himself.
Years, however, rolled quietly away, and nothing novel occurred in thearrangements of Castle Ardagh, excepting that Sir Robert parted with hisodd companion, but as nobody could tell whence he came, so nobody couldsay whither he had gone. Sir Robert's habits, however, underwent noconsequent change; he continued regularly to frequent the racemeetings, without mixing at all in the convivialities of the gentry,and immediately afterwards to relapse into the secluded monotony of hisordinary life.
It was said that he had accumulated vast sums of money--and, as his betswere always successful, and always large, such must have been the case.He did not suffer the acquisition of wealth, however, to influence hishospitality or his housekeeping--he neither purchased land, nor extendedhis establishment; and his mode of enjoying his money must have beenaltogether that of the miser--consisting merely in the pleasure oftouching and telling his gold, and in the consciousness of wealth.
Sir Robert's temper, so far from improving, became more than ever gloomyand morose. He sometimes carried the indulgence of his evil dispositionsto such a height that it bordered upon insanity. During these paroxysmshe would neither eat, drink, nor sleep. On such occasions he insisted onperfect privacy, even from the intrusion of his most trusted servants;his voice was frequently heard, sometimes in earnest supplication,sometime as if in loud and angry altercation with some unknown visitant;sometimes he would, for hours together, walk to and fro throughout thelong oak wainscoted apartment, which he generally occupied, with wildgesticulations and agitated pace, in the manner of one who has beenroused to a state of unnatural excitement by some sudden and appallingintimation.
These paroxysms of apparent lunacy were so frightful, that duringtheir continuance even his oldest a
nd most-faithful domestics dared notapproach him; consequently, his hours of agony were never intruded upon,and the mysterious causes of his sufferings appeared likely to remainhidden for ever.
On one occasion a fit of this kind continued for an unusual time, theordinary term of their duration--about two days--had been long past,and the old servant who generally waited upon Sir Robert after thesevisitations, having in vain listened for the well-known tinkle of hismaster's hand-bell, began to feel extremely anxious; he feared that hismaster might have died from sheer exhaustion, or perhaps put an end tohis own existence during his miserable depression. These fears at lengthbecame so strong, that having in vain urged some of his brother servantsto accompany him, he determined to go up alone, and himself see whetherany accident had befallen Sir Robert.
He traversed the several passages which conducted from the new to themore ancient parts of the mansion, and having arrived in the old hall ofthe castle, the utter silence of the hour, for it was very late in thenight, the idea of the nature of the enterprise in which he wasengaging himself, a sensation of remoteness from anything like humancompanionship, but, more than all, the vivid but undefined anticipationof something horrible, came upon him with such oppressive weight thathe hesitated as to whether he should proceed. Real uneasiness, however,respecting the fate of his master, for whom he felt that kind ofattachment which the force of habitual intercourse not unfrequentlyengenders respecting objects not in themselves amiable, and also alatent unwillingness to expose his weakness to the ridicule of hisfellow-servants, combined to overcome his reluctance; and he had justplaced his foot upon the first step of the staircase which conductedto his master's chamber, when his attention was arrested by a low butdistinct knocking at the hall-door. Not, perhaps, very sorry at findingthus an excuse even for deferring his intended expedition, he placedthe candle upon a stone block which lay in the hall, and approached thedoor, uncertain whether his ears had not deceived him. This doubt wasjustified by the circumstance that the hall entrance had been for nearlyfifty years disused as a mode of ingress to the castle. The situationof this gate also, which we have endeavoured to describe, opening upona narrow ledge of rock which overhangs a perilous cliff, rendered itat all times, but particularly at night, a dangerous entrance. Thisshelving platform of rock, which formed the only avenue to the door, wasdivided, as I have already stated, by a broad chasm, the planks acrosswhich had long disappeared by decay or otherwise, so that it seemed atleast highly improbable that any man could have found his way across thepassage in safety to the door, more particularly on a night like that,of singular darkness. The old man, therefore, listened attentively, toascertain whether the first application should be followed by another.He had not long to wait; the same low but singularly distinct knockingwas repeated; so low that it seemed as if the applicant had employed noharder or heavier instrument than his hand, and yet, despite the immensethickness of the door, with such strength that the sound was distinctlyaudible.
The knock was repeated a third time, without any increase of loudness;and the old man, obeying an impulse for which to his dying hour he couldnever account, proceeded to remove, one by one, the three great oakenbars which secured the door. Time and damp had effectually corroded theiron chambers of the lock, so that it afforded little resistance. Withsome effort, as he believed, assisted from without, the old servantsucceeded in opening the door; and a low, square-built figure,apparently that of a man wrapped in a large black cloak, enteredthe hall. The servant could not see much of this visitant with anydistinctness; his dress appeared foreign, the skirt of his ample cloakwas thrown over one shoulder; he wore a large felt hat, with a veryheavy leaf, from under which escaped what appeared to be a mass of longsooty-black hair; his feet were cased in heavy riding-boots. Such werethe few particulars which the servant had time and light to observe. Thestranger desired him to let his master know instantly that a friendhad come, by appointment, to settle some business with him. The servanthesitated, but a slight motion on the part of his visitor, as if topossess himself of the candle, determined him; so, taking it in hishand, he ascended the castle stairs, leaving his guest in the hall.
On reaching the apartment which opened upon the oak-chamber he wassurprised to observe the door of that room partly open, and the roomitself lit up. He paused, but there was no sound; he looked in, andsaw Sir Robert, his head and the upper part of his body reclining ona table, upon which burned a lamp; his arms were stretched forward oneither side, and perfectly motionless; it appeared that, having beensitting at the table, he had thus sunk forward, either dead or in aswoon. There was no sound of breathing; all was silent, except the sharpticking of a watch, which lay beside the lamp. The servant coughedtwice or thrice, but with no effect; his fears now almost amounted tocertainty, and he was approaching the table on which his master partlylay, to satisfy himself of his death, when Sir Robert slowly raisedhis head, and throwing himself back in his chair, fixed his eyes in aghastly and uncertain gaze upon his attendant. At length he said, slowlyand painfully, as if he dreaded the answer:
'In God's name, what are you?'
'Sir,' said the servant, 'a strange gentleman wants to see you below.'
At this intimation Sir Robert, starting on his feet and tossing his armswildly upwards, uttered a shriek of such appalling and despairing terrorthat it was almost too fearful for human endurance; and long afterthe sound had ceased it seemed to the terrified imagination of the oldservant to roll through the deserted passages in bursts of unnaturallaughter. After a few moments Sir Robert said:
'Can't you send him away? Why does he come so soon? O God! O God! lethim leave me for an hour; a little time. I can't see him now; try toget him away. You see I can't go down now; I have not strength. O God!O God! let him come back in an hour; it is not long to wait. He cannotlose anything by it; nothing, nothing, nothing. Tell him that; sayanything to him.'
The servant went down. In his own words, he did not feel the stairsunder him till he got to the hall. The figure stood exactly as he hadleft it. He delivered his master's message as coherently as he could.The stranger replied in a careless tone:
'If Sir Robert will not come down to me, I must go up to him.'
The man returned, and to his surprise he found his master much morecomposed in manner. He listened to the message, and though the coldperspiration rose in drops upon his forehead faster than he could wipeit away, his manner had lost the dreadful agitation which had markedit before. He rose feebly, and casting a last look of agony behind him,passed from the room to the lobby, where he signed to his attendant notto follow him. The man moved as far as the head of the staircase,from whence he had a tolerably distinct view of the hall, which wasimperfectly lighted by the candle he had left there.
He saw his master reel, rather than walk down the stairs, clinging allthe way to the banisters. He walked on, as if about to sink every momentfrom weakness. The figure advanced as if to meet him, and in passingstruck down the light. The servant could see no more; but there wasa sound of struggling, renewed at intervals with silent but fearfulenergy. It was evident, however, that the parties were approaching thedoor, for he heard the solid oak sound twice or thrice, as the feet ofthe combatants, in shuffling hither and thither over the floor, struckupon it. After a slight pause he heard the door thrown open with suchviolence that the leaf seemed to strike the side-wall of the hall, forit was so dark without that this could only be surmised by the sound.The struggle was renewed with an agony and intenseness of energythat betrayed itself in deep-drawn gasps. One desperate effort, whichterminated in the breaking of some part of the door, producing a soundas if the door-post was wrenched from its position, was followed byanother wrestle, evidently upon the narrow ledge which ran outside thedoor, overtopping the precipice. This proved to be the final struggle,for it was followed by a crashing sound as if some heavy body had fallenover, and was rushing down the precipice, through the light boughs thatcrossed near the top. All then became still as the grave, except whenthe moan of the night w
ind sighed up the wooded glen.
The old servant had not nerve to return through the hall, and to him thedarkness seemed all but endless; but morning at length came, and withit the disclosure of the events of the night. Near the door, upon theground, lay Sir Robert's sword-belt, which had given way in the scuffle.A huge splinter from the massive door-post had been wrenched off byan almost superhuman effort--one which nothing but the gripe of adespairing man could have severed--and on the rock outside were left themarks of the slipping and sliding of feet.
At the foot of the precipice, not immediately under the castle, butdragged some way up the glen, were found the remains of Sir Robert, withhardly a vestige of a limb or feature left distinguishable. The righthand, however, was uninjured, and in its fingers were clutched, with thefixedness of death, a long lock of coarse sooty hair--the only directcircumstantial evidence of the presence of a second person. So saystradition.
This story, as I have mentioned, was current among the dealers in suchlore; but the original facts are so dissimilar in all but the name ofthe principal person mentioned and his mode of life, and the fact thathis death was accompanied with circumstances of extraordinary mystery,that the two narratives are totally irreconcilable (even allowing theutmost for the exaggerating influence of tradition), except by supposingreport to have combined and blended together the fabulous historiesof several distinct bearers of the family name. However this may be, Ishall lay before the reader a distinct recital of the events from whichthe foregoing tradition arose. With respect to these there can be nomistake; they are authenticated as fully as anything can be by humantestimony; and I state them principally upon the evidence of a lady whoherself bore a prominent part in the strange events which she related,and which I now record as being among the few well-attested tales of themarvellous which it has been my fate to hear. I shall, as far as I amable, arrange in one combined narrative the evidence of several distinctpersons who were eye-witnesses of what they related, and with the truthof whose testimony I am solemnly and deeply impressed.
Sir Robert Ardagh, as we choose to call him, was the heir andrepresentative of the family whose name he bore; but owing to theprodigality of his father, the estates descended to him in a veryimpaired condition. Urged by the restless spirit of youth, or moreprobably by a feeling of pride which could not submit to witness, inthe paternal mansion, what he considered a humiliating alteration inthe style and hospitality which up to that time had distinguishedhis family, Sir Robert left Ireland and went abroad. How he occupiedhimself, or what countries he visited during his absence, was neverknown, nor did he afterwards make any allusion or encourage anyinquiries touching his foreign sojourn. He left Ireland in the year1742, being then just of age, and was not heard of until the year1760--about eighteen years afterwards--at which time he returned. Hispersonal appearance was, as might have been expected, very greatlyaltered, more altered, indeed, than the time of his absence mighthave warranted one in supposing likely. But to counterbalance theunfavourable change which time had wrought in his form and features, hehad acquired all the advantages of polish of manner and refinement oftaste which foreign travel is supposed to bestow. But what was trulysurprising was that it soon became evident that Sir Robert was verywealthy--wealthy to an extraordinary and unaccountable degree; and thisfact was made manifest, not only by his expensive style of living,but by his proceeding to disembarrass his property, and to purchaseextensive estates in addition. Moreover, there could be nothingdeceptive in these appearances, for he paid ready money for everything,from the most important purchase to the most trifling.
Sir Robert was a remarkably agreeable man, and possessing the combinedadvantages of birth and property, he was, as a matter of course, gladlyreceived into the highest society which the metropolis then commanded.It was thus that he became acquainted with the two beautiful MissF----ds, then among the brightest ornaments of the highest circle ofDublin fashion. Their family was in more than one direction allied tonobility; and Lady D----, their elder sister by many years, and sometimemarried to a once well-known nobleman, was now their protectress. Theseconsiderations, beside the fact that the young ladies were what isusually termed heiresses, though not to a very great amount, secured tothem a high position in the best society which Ireland then produced.The two young ladies differed strongly, alike in appearance and incharacter. The elder of the two, Emily, was generally considered thehandsomer--for her beauty was of that impressive kind which neverfailed to strike even at the first glance, possessing as it did all theadvantages of a fine person and a commanding carriage. The beauty of herfeatures strikingly assorted in character with that of her figure anddeportment. Her hair was raven-black and richly luxuriant, beautifullycontrasting with the perfect whiteness of her forehead--her finelypencilled brows were black as the ringlets that clustered near them--andher blue eyes, full, lustrous, and animated, possessed all the power andbrilliancy of brown ones, with more than their softness and variety ofexpression. She was not, however, merely the tragedy queen. When shesmiled, and that was not seldom, the dimpling of cheek and chin, thelaughing display of the small and beautiful teeth--but, more than all,the roguish archness of her deep, bright eye, showed that nature had notneglected in her the lighter and the softer characteristics of woman.
Her younger sister Mary was, as I believe not unfrequently occurs inthe case of sisters, quite in the opposite style of beauty. She waslight-haired, had more colour, had nearly equal grace, with much moreliveliness of manner. Her eyes were of that dark grey which poets somuch admire--full of expression and vivacity. She was altogether a verybeautiful and animated girl--though as unlike her sister as the presenceof those two qualities would permit her to be. Their dissimilarity didnot stop here--it was deeper than mere appearance--the character oftheir minds differed almost as strikingly as did their complexion.The fair-haired beauty had a large proportion of that softness andpliability of temper which physiognomists assign as the characteristicsof such complexions. She was much more the creature of impulse than offeeling, and consequently more the victim of extrinsic circumstancesthan was her sister. Emily, on the contrary, possessed considerablefirmness and decision. She was less excitable, but when excited herfeelings were more intense and enduring. She wanted much of the gaiety,but with it the volatility of her younger sister. Her opinionswere adopted, and her friendships formed more reflectively, andher affections seemed to move, as it were, more slowly, but moredeterminedly. This firmness of character did not amount to anythingmasculine, and did not at all impair the feminine grace of her manners.
Sir Robert Ardagh was for a long time apparently equally attentive tothe two sisters, and many were the conjectures and the surmises as towhich would be the lady of his choice. At length, however, these doubtswere determined; he proposed for and was accepted by the dark beauty,Emily F----d.
The bridals were celebrated in a manner becoming the wealth andconnections of the parties; and Sir Robert and Lady Ardagh left Dublinto pass the honeymoon at the family mansion, Castle Ardagh, which hadlately been fitted up in a style bordering upon magnificent. Whetherin compliance with the wishes of his lady, or owing to some whim of hisown, his habits were henceforward strikingly altered; and from havingmoved among the gayest if not the most profligate of the votariesof fashion, he suddenly settled down into a quiet, domestic, countrygentleman, and seldom, if ever, visited the capital, and then hissojourns were as brief as the nature of his business would permit.
Lady Ardagh, however, did not suffer from this change further than inbeing secluded from general society; for Sir Robert's wealth, and thehospitality which he had established in the family mansion, commandedthat of such of his lady's friends and relatives as had leisure orinclination to visit the castle; and as their style of living was veryhandsome, and its internal resources of amusement considerable, fewinvitations from Sir Robert or his lady were neglected.
Many years passed quietly away, during which Sir Robert's and LadyArdagh's hopes of issue were several times disappointed. In th
e lapse ofall this time there occurred but one event worth recording. Sir Roberthad brought with him from abroad a valet, who sometimes professedhimself to be French, at others Italian, and at others again German. Hespoke all these languages with equal fluency, and seemed to take a kindof pleasure in puzzling the sagacity and balking the curiosity of suchof the visitors at the castle as at any time happened to enter intoconversation with him, or who, struck by his singularities, becameinquisitive respecting his country and origin. Sir Robert called him bythe French name, JACQUE, and among the lower orders he was familiarlyknown by the title of 'Jack, the devil,' an appellation which originatedin a supposed malignity of disposition and a real reluctance to mix inthe society of those who were believed to be his equals. This morosereserve, coupled with the mystery which enveloped all about him,rendered him an object of suspicion and inquiry to his fellow-servants,amongst whom it was whispered that this man in secret governed theactions of Sir Robert with a despotic dictation, and that, as if toindemnify himself for his public and apparent servitude and self-denial,he in private exacted a degree of respectful homage from his so-calledmaster, totally inconsistent with the relation generally supposed toexist between them.
This man's personal appearance was, to say the least of it, extremelyodd; he was low in stature; and this defect was enhanced by a distortionof the spine, so considerable as almost to amount to a hunch; hisfeatures, too, had all that sharpness and sickliness of hue whichgenerally accompany deformity; he wore his hair, which was black assoot, in heavy neglected ringlets about his shoulders, and alwayswithout powder--a peculiarity in those days. There was somethingunpleasant, too, in the circumstance that he never raised his eyes tomeet those of another; this fact was often cited as a proof of his beingsomething not quite right, and said to result not from the timiditywhich is supposed in most cases to induce this habit, but from aconsciousness that his eye possessed a power which, if exhibited, wouldbetray a supernatural origin. Once, and once only, had he violated thissinister observance: it was on the occasion of Sir Robert's hopes havingbeen most bitterly disappointed; his lady, after a severe and dangerousconfinement, gave birth to a dead child. Immediately after theintelligence had been made known, a servant, having upon some businesspassed outside the gate of the castle-yard, was met by Jacque, who,contrary to his wont, accosted him, observing, 'So, after all thepother, the son and heir is still-born.' This remark was accompaniedby a chuckling laugh, the only approach to merriment which he was everknown to exhibit. The servant, who was really disappointed, having hopedfor holiday times, feasting and debauchery with impunity during therejoicings which would have accompanied a christening, turned tartlyupon the little valet, telling him that he should let Sir Robert knowhow he had received the tidings which should have filled any faithfulservant with sorrow; and having once broken the ice, he was proceedingwith increasing fluency, when his harangue was cut short and histemerity punished, by the little man raising his head and treating himto a scowl so fearful, half-demoniac, half-insane, that it haunted hisimagination in nightmares and nervous tremors for months after.
To this man Lady Ardagh had, at first sight, conceived an antipathyamounting to horror, a mixture of loathing and dread so very powerfulthat she had made it a particular and urgent request to Sir Robert, thathe would dismiss him, offering herself, from that property which SirRobert had by the marriage settlements left at her own disposal, toprovide handsomely for him, provided only she might be relieved fromthe continual anxiety and discomfort which the fear of encountering himinduced.
Sir Robert, however, would not hear of it; the request seemed at firstto agitate and distress him; but when still urged in defiance of hisperemptory refusal, he burst into a violent fit of fury; he spokedarkly of great sacrifices which he had made, and threatened that if therequest were at any time renewed he would leave both her and the countryfor ever. This was, however, a solitary instance of violence; hisgeneral conduct towards Lady Ardagh, though at no time uxorious, wascertainly kind and respectful, and he was more than repaid in thefervent attachment which she bore him in return.
Some short time after this strange interview between Sir Robert andLady Ardagh; one night after the family had retired to bed, and wheneverything had been quiet for some time, the bell of Sir Robert'sdressing-room rang suddenly and violently; the ringing was repeatedagain and again at still shorter intervals, and with increasingviolence, as if the person who pulled the bell was agitated by thepresence of some terrifying and imminent danger. A servant named Donovanwas the first to answer it; he threw on his clothes, and hurried to theroom.
Sir Robert had selected for his private room an apartment remote fromthe bed-chambers of the castle, most of which lay in the more modernparts of the mansion, and secured at its entrance by a double door. Asthe servant opened the first of these, Sir Robert's bell again soundedwith a longer and louder peal; the inner door resisted his efforts toopen it; but after a few violent struggles, not having been perfectlysecured, or owing to the inadequacy of the bolt itself, it gave way, andthe servant rushed into the apartment, advancing several paces beforehe could recover himself. As he entered, he heard Sir Robert'svoice exclaiming loudly--'Wait without, do not come in yet;' but theprohibition came too late. Near a low truckle-bed, upon which Sir Robertsometimes slept, for he was a whimsical man, in a large armchair, sat,or rather lounged, the form of the valet Jacque, his arms folded, andhis heels stretched forward on the floor, so as fully to exhibit hismisshapen legs, his head thrown back, and his eyes fixed upon his masterwith a look of indescribable defiance and derision, while, as if to addto the strange insolence of his attitude and expression, he had placedupon his head the black cloth cap which it was his habit to wear.
Sir Robert was standing before him, at the distance of several yards,in a posture expressive of despair, terror, and what might be called anagony of humility. He waved his hand twice or thrice, as if to dismissthe servant, who, however, remained fixed on the spot where he had firststood; and then, as if forgetting everything but the agony within him,he pressed his clenched hands on his cold damp brow, and dashed away theheavy drops that gathered chill and thickly there.
Jacque broke the silence.
'Donovan,' said he, 'shake up that drone and drunkard, Carlton; tellhim that his master directs that the travelling carriage shall be at thedoor within half-an-hour.'
The servant paused, as if in doubt as to what he should do; but hisscruples were resolved by Sir Robert's saying hurriedly, 'Go--go, dowhatever he directs; his commands are mine; tell Carlton the same.'
The servant hurried to obey, and in about half-an-hour the carriagewas at the door, and Jacque, having directed the coachman to drive toB----n, a small town at about the distance of twelve miles--the nearestpoint, however, at which post-horses could be obtained--stepped into thevehicle, which accordingly quitted the castle immediately.
Although it was a fine moonlight night, the carriage made its way butvery slowly, and after the lapse of two hours the travellers had arrivedat a point about eight miles from the castle, at which the road strikesthrough a desolate and heathy flat, sloping up distantly at either sideinto bleak undulatory hills, in whose monotonous sweep the imaginationbeholds the heaving of some dark sluggish sea, arrested in its firstcommotion by some preternatural power. It is a gloomy and divested spot;there is neither tree nor habitation near it; its monotony is unbroken,except by here and there the grey front of a rock peering above theheath, and the effect is rendered yet more dreary and spectral by theexaggerated and misty shadows which the moon casts along the slopingsides of the hills.
When they had gained about the centre of this tract, Carlton, thecoachman, was surprised to see a figure standing at some distance inadvance, immediately beside the road, and still more so when, on comingup, he observed that it was no other than Jacque whom he believed to beat that moment quietly seated in the carriage; the coachman drew up, andnodding to him, the little valet exclaimed:
'Carlton, I have got the start of you; the r
oads are heavy, so I shalleven take care of myself the rest of the way. Do you make your way backas best you can, and I shall follow my own nose.'
So saying, he chucked a purse into the lap of the coachman, and turningoff at a right angle with the road, he began to move rapidly away in thedirection of the dark ridge that lowered in the distance.
The servant watched him until he was lost in the shadowy haze of night;and neither he nor any of the inmates of the castle saw Jacque again.His disappearance, as might have been expected, did not cause any regretamong the servants and dependants at the castle; and Lady Ardagh didnot attempt to conceal her delight; but with Sir Robert matters weredifferent, for two or three days subsequent to this event he confinedhimself to his room, and when he did return to his ordinary occupations,it was with a gloomy indifference, which showed that he did so morefrom habit than from any interest he felt in them. He appeared from thatmoment unaccountably and strikingly changed, and thenceforward walkedthrough life as a thing from which he could derive neither profit norpleasure. His temper, however, so far from growing wayward or morose,became, though gloomy, very--almost unnaturally--placid and cold; buthis spirits totally failed, and he grew silent and abstracted.
These sombre habits of mind, as might have been anticipated, verymaterially affected the gay house-keeping of the castle; and the darkand melancholy spirit of its master seemed to have communicated itselfto the very domestics, almost to the very walls of the mansion.
Several years rolled on in this way, and the sounds of mirth and wassailhad long been strangers to the castle, when Sir Robert requested hislady, to her great astonishment, to invite some twenty or thirty oftheir friends to spend the Christmas, which was fast approaching, atthe castle. Lady Ardagh gladly complied, and her sister Mary, who stillcontinued unmarried, and Lady D---- were of course included in theinvitations. Lady Ardagh had requested her sisters to set forward asearly as possible, in order that she might enjoy a little of theirsociety before the arrival of the other guests; and in compliance withthis request they left Dublin almost immediately upon receiving theinvitation, a little more than a week before the arrival of the festivalwhich was to be the period at which the whole party were to muster.
For expedition's sake it was arranged that they should post, while LadyD----'s groom was to follow with her horses, she taking with herselfher own maid and one male servant. They left the city when the day wasconsiderably spent, and consequently made but three stages in the firstday; upon the second, at about eight in the evening, they had reachedthe town of K----k, distant about fifteen miles from Castle Ardagh.Here, owing to Miss F----d's great fatigue, she having been for aconsiderable time in a very delicate state of health, it was determinedto put up for the night. They, accordingly, took possession of the bestsitting-room which the inn commanded, and Lady D----remained in itto direct and urge the preparations for some refreshment, which thefatigues of the day had rendered necessary, while her younger sisterretired to her bed-chamber to rest there for a little time, as theparlour commanded no such luxury as a sofa.
Miss F----d was, as I have already stated, at this time in very delicatehealth; and upon this occasion the exhaustion of fatigue, and the drearybadness of the weather, combined to depress her spirits. Lady D----had not been left long to herself, when the door communicating with thepassage was abruptly opened, and her sister Mary entered in a state ofgreat agitation; she sat down pale and trembling upon one of the chairs,and it was not until a copious flood of tears had relieved her, thatshe became sufficiently calm to relate the cause of her excitement anddistress. It was simply this. Almost immediately upon lying down uponthe bed she sank into a feverish and unrefreshing slumber; images of allgrotesque shapes and startling colours flitted before her sleeping fancywith all the rapidity and variety of the changes in a kaleidoscope. Atlength, as she described it, a mist seemed to interpose itself betweenher sight and the ever-shifting scenery which sported before herimagination, and out of this cloudy shadow gradually emerged a figurewhose back seemed turned towards the sleeper; it was that of a lady,who, in perfect silence, was expressing as far as pantomimic gesturecould, by wringing her hands, and throwing her head from side to side,in the manner of one who is exhausted by the over indulgence, by thevery sickness and impatience of grief; the extremity of misery. Fora long time she sought in vain to catch a glimpse of the face of theapparition, who thus seemed to stir and live before her. But at lengththe figure seemed to move with an air of authority, as if about to givedirections to some inferior, and in doing so, it turned its head so asto display, with a ghastly distinctness, the features of Lady Ardagh,pale as death, with her dark hair all dishevelled, and her eyes dimand sunken with weeping. The revulsion of feeling which MissF----d experienced at this disclosure--for up to that point she hadcontemplated the appearance rather with a sense of curiosity and ofinterest, than of anything deeper--was so horrible, that the shock awokeher perfectly. She sat up in the bed, and looked fearfully around theroom, which was imperfectly lighted by a single candle burning dimly, asif she almost expected to see the reality of her dreadful vision lurkingin some corner of the chamber. Her fears were, however, verified, thoughnot in the way she expected; yet in a manner sufficiently horrible--forshe had hardly time to breathe and to collect her thoughts, when sheheard, or thought she heard, the voice of her sister, Lady Ardagh,sometimes sobbing violently, and sometimes almost shrieking as if interror, and calling upon her and Lady D----, with the most imploringearnestness of despair, for God's sake to lose no time in coming to her.All this was so horribly distinct, that it seemed as if the mournerwas standing within a few yards of the spot where Miss F----d lay. Shesprang from the bed, and leaving the candle in the room behind her, shemade her way in the dark through the passage, the voice still followingher, until as she arrived at the door of the sitting-room it seemed todie away in low sobbing.
As soon as Miss F----d was tolerably recovered, she declared herdetermination to proceed directly, and without further loss of time,to Castle Ardagh. It was not without much difficulty that Lady D----at length prevailed upon her to consent to remain where they then were,until morning should arrive, when it was to be expected that the younglady would be much refreshed by at least remaining quiet for the night,even though sleep were out of the question. Lady D---- was convinced,from the nervous and feverish symptoms which her sister exhibited, thatshe had already done too much, and was more than ever satisfied of thenecessity of prosecuting the journey no further upon that day. Aftersome time she persuaded her sister to return to her room, where sheremained with her until she had gone to bed, and appeared comparativelycomposed. Lady D---- then returned to the parlour, and not findingherself sleepy, she remained sitting by the fire. Her solitude wasa second time broken in upon, by the entrance of her sister, who nowappeared, if possible, more agitated than before. She said that LadyD---- had not long left the room, when she was roused by a repetition ofthe same wailing and lamentations, accompanied by the wildest and mostagonized supplications that no time should be lost in coming to CastleArdagh, and all in her sister's voice, and uttered at the same proximityas before. This time the voice had followed her to the very door of thesitting-room, and until she closed it, seemed to pour forth its criesand sobs at the very threshold.
Miss F----d now most positively declared that nothing should prevent herproceeding instantly to the castle, adding that if Lady D---- would notaccompany her, she would go on by herself. Superstitious feelings are atall times more or less contagious, and the last century afforded a soilmuch more congenial to their growth than the present. Lady D---- was sofar affected by her sister's terrors, that she became, at least, uneasy;and seeing that her sister was immovably determined upon setting forwardimmediately, she consented to accompany her forthwith. After a slightdelay, fresh horses were procured, and the two ladies and theirattendants renewed their journey, with strong injunctions to the driverto quicken their rate of travelling as much as possible, and promises ofreward in case of his doing so.
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br /> Roads were then in much worse condition throughout the south, even thanthey now are; and the fifteen miles which modern posting would havepassed in little more than an hour and a half, were not completed evenwith every possible exertion in twice the time. Miss F----d had beennervously restless during the journey. Her head had been constantlyout of the carriage window; and as they approached the entrance to thecastle demesne, which lay about a mile from the building, her anxietybegan to communicate itself to her sister. The postillion had justdismounted, and was endeavouring to open the gate--at that time anecessary trouble; for in the middle of the last century porter's lodgeswere not common in the south of Ireland, and locks and keys almostunknown. He had just succeeded in rolling back the heavy oaken gate soas to admit the vehicle, when a mounted servant rode rapidly down theavenue, and drawing up at the carriage, asked of the postillion who theparty were; and on hearing, he rode round to the carriage window andhanded in a note, which Lady D---- received. By the assistance of oneof the coach-lamps they succeeded in deciphering it. It was scrawled ingreat agitation, and ran thus:
'MY DEAR SISTER--MY DEAR SISTERS BOTH,--In God's name lose no time, I amfrightened and miserable; I cannot explain all till you come. I am toomuch terrified to write coherently; but understand me--hasten--do notwaste a minute. I am afraid you will come too late.
'E. A.'
The servant could tell nothing more than that the castle was in greatconfusion, and that Lady Ardagh had been crying bitterly all the night.Sir Robert was perfectly well. Altogether at a loss as to the causeof Lady Ardagh's great distress, they urged their way up the steep andbroken avenue which wound through the crowding trees, whose wild andgrotesque branches, now left stripped and naked by the blasts of winter,stretched drearily across the road. As the carriage drew up in the areabefore the door, the anxiety of the ladies almost amounted to agony; andscarcely waiting for the assistance of their attendant, they sprang tothe ground, and in an instant stood at the castle door. From withinwere distinctly audible the sounds of lamentation and weeping, andthe suppressed hum of voices as if of those endeavouring to soothe themourner. The door was speedily opened, and when the ladies entered, thefirst object which met their view was their sister, Lady Ardagh, sittingon a form in the hall, weeping and wringing her hands in deep agony.Beside her stood two old, withered crones, who were each endeavouring intheir own way to administer consolation, without even knowing or caringwhat the subject of her grief might be.
Immediately on Lady Ardagh's seeing her sisters, she started up, fell ontheir necks, and kissed them again and again without speaking, and thentaking them each by a hand, still weeping bitterly, she led them intoa small room adjoining the hall, in which burned a light, and, havingclosed the door, she sat down between them. After thanking them for thehaste they had made, she proceeded to tell them, in words incoherentfrom agitation, that Sir Robert had in private, and in the most solemnmanner, told her that he should die upon that night, and that hehad occupied himself during the evening in giving minute directionsrespecting the arrangements of his funeral. Lady D---- here suggestedthe possibility of his labouring under the hallucinations of a fever;but to this Lady Ardagh quickly replied:
'Oh! no, no! Would to God I could think it. Oh! no, no! Wait till youhave seen him. There is a frightful calmness about all he says anddoes; and his directions are all so clear, and his mind so perfectlycollected, it is impossible, quite impossible.' And she wept yet morebitterly.
At that moment Sir Robert's voice was heard in issuing some directions,as he came downstairs; and Lady Ardagh exclaimed, hurriedly:
'Go now and see him yourself. He is in the hall.'
Lady D---- accordingly went out into the hall, where Sir Robert met her;and, saluting her with kind politeness, he said, after a pause:
'You are come upon a melancholy mission--the house is in greatconfusion, and some of its inmates in considerable grief.' He took herhand, and looking fixedly in her face, continued: 'I shall not live tosee to-morrow's sun shine.'
'You are ill, sir, I have no doubt,' replied she; 'but I am verycertain we shall see you much better to-morrow, and still better the dayfollowing.'
'I am NOT ill, sister,' replied he. 'Feel my temples, they are cool; layyour finger to my pulse, its throb is slow and temperate. I never wasmore perfectly in health, and yet do I know that ere three hours bepast, I shall be no more.'
'Sir, sir,' said she, a good deal startled, but wishing to concealthe impression which the calm solemnity of his manner had, in her owndespite, made upon her, 'Sir, you should not jest; you should not evenspeak lightly upon such subjects. You trifle with what is sacred--youare sporting with the best affections of your wife----'
'Stay, my good lady,' said he; 'if when this clock shall strike the hourof three, I shall be anything but a helpless clod, then upbraid me. Prayreturn now to your sister. Lady Ardagh is, indeed, much to be pitied;but what is past cannot now be helped. I have now a few papers toarrange, and some to destroy. I shall see you and Lady Ardagh before mydeath; try to compose her--her sufferings distress me much; but what ispast cannot now be mended.'
Thus saying, he went upstairs, and Lady D---- returned to the room whereher sisters were sitting.
'Well,' exclaimed Lady Ardagh, as she re-entered, 'is it not so?--do youstill doubt?--do you think there is any hope?'
Lady D---- was silent.
'Oh! none, none, none,' continued she; 'I see, I see you are convinced.'And she wrung her hands in bitter agony.
'My dear sister,' said Lady D----, 'there is, no doubt, somethingstrange in all that has appeared in this matter; but still I cannot buthope that there may be something deceptive in all the apparent calmnessof Sir Robert. I still must believe that some latent fever has affectedhis mind, or that, owing to the state of nervous depression into whichhe has been sinking, some trivial occurrence has been converted, inhis disordered imagination, into an augury foreboding his immediatedissolution.'
In such suggestions, unsatisfactory even to those who originated them,and doubly so to her whom they were intended to comfort, more than twohours passed; and Lady D---- was beginning to hope that the fated termmight elapse without the occurrence of any tragical event, when SirRobert entered the room. On coming in, he placed his finger with awarning gesture upon his lips, as if to enjoin silence; and then havingsuccessively pressed the hands of his two sisters-in-law, he stoopedsadly over the fainting form of his lady, and twice pressed her cold,pale forehead, with his lips, and then passed silently out of the room.
Lady D----, starting up, followed to the door, and saw him take acandle in the hall, and walk deliberately up the stairs. Stimulated bya feeling of horrible curiosity, she continued to follow him at adistance. She saw him enter his own private room, and heard him closeand lock the door after him. Continuing to follow him as far as shecould, she placed herself at the door of the chamber, as noiselessly aspossible, where after a little time she was joined by her two sisters,Lady Ardagh and Miss F----d. In breathless silence they listened to whatshould pass within. They distinctly heard Sir Robert pacing up and downthe room for some time; and then, after a pause, a sound as if someone had thrown himself heavily upon the bed. At this moment Lady D----,forgetting that the door had been secured within, turned the handle forthe purpose of entering; when some one from the inside, close to thedoor, said, 'Hush! hush!' The same lady, now much alarmed, knockedviolently at the door; there was no answer. She knocked again moreviolently, with no further success. Lady Ardagh, now uttering a piercingshriek, sank in a swoon upon the floor. Three or four servants,alarmed by the noise, now hurried upstairs, and Lady Ardagh was carriedapparently lifeless to her own chamber. They then, after having knockedlong and loudly in vain, applied themselves to forcing an entrance intoSir Robert's room. After resisting some violent efforts, the door atlength gave way, and all entered the room nearly together. There was asingle candle burning upon a table at the far end of the apartment; andstretched upon the bed lay Sir Robert Ardagh. He was a corps
e--the eyeswere open--no convulsion had passed over the features, or distortedthe limbs--it seemed as if the soul had sped from the body without astruggle to remain there. On touching the body it was found to be coldas clay--all lingering of the vital heat had left it. They closed theghastly eyes of the corpse, and leaving it to the care of those whoseem to consider it a privilege of their age and sex to gloat over therevolting spectacle of death in all its stages, they returned toLady Ardagh, now a widow. The party assembled at the castle, but theatmosphere was tainted with death. Grief there was not much, but awe andpanic were expressed in every face. The guests talked in whispers, andthe servants walked on tiptoe, as if afraid of the very noise of theirown footsteps.
The funeral was conducted almost with splendour. The body, having beenconveyed, in compliance with Sir Robert's last directions, to Dublin,was there laid within the ancient walls of St. Audoen's Church--where Ihave read the epitaph, telling the age and titles of the departed dust.Neither painted escutcheon, nor marble slab, have served to rescue fromoblivion the story of the dead, whose very name will ere long moulderfrom their tracery,
'Et sunt sua fata sepulchris.'(1)
(1) This prophecy has since been realised; for the aisle in which Sir Robert's remains were laid has been suffered to fall completely to decay; and the tomb which marked his grave, and other monuments more curious, form now one indistinguishable mass of rubbish.
The events which I have recorded are not imaginary. They are FACTS;and there lives one whose authority none would venture to question, whocould vindicate the accuracy of every statement which I have set down,and that, too, with all the circumstantiality of an eye-witness.(2)
(2) This paper, from a memorandum, I find to have been written in 1803. The lady to whom allusion is made, I believe to be Miss Mary F----d. She never married, and survived both her sisters, living to a very advanced age.
The Purcell Papers — Volume 1 Page 3
