The Collected Supernatural and Weird Fiction of Sabine Baring-Gould

by Sabine Baring-Gould

  “Well, in these excursions a sort of freemasonry exists between the archaeologists who share in them, and no ceremonious introductions are needed. For instance, you say to the lady next to you, ‘Am I squeezing you?’ And the ice is broken. I did not, however, attempt to draw any information from those between whom I was seated, till after luncheon, a most sumptuous repast, with champagne, liberally given to the Society by a gentleman of property, to whose house we drove up just about one o’clock. There was plenty of champagne supplied, and I did not stint myself. I felt it necessary to take in a certain amount of Dutch courage before broaching to my companions in the brake the theme that lay near my heart. When, however, we got into the conveyance, all in great spirits, after the conclusion of the lunch, I turned to my right-hand lady, and said to her: ‘Well, miss, I fear it will be a long time before you become angelic.’ She turned her back upon me and made no reply.

  “Somewhat disconcerted, I now addressed myself to the chalk-marked lady on my left hand, and asked: ‘Have you anything at all in your head except archaeology?’ Instead of answering me in the kindly mood in which I spoke, she began at once to enter into a lively discussion with her neighbour on the opposite side of the carriage, and ignored me. I was not to be done in this way. I wanted information. But, of course, I could enter into the feelings of both. Merewigs do not like to converse about themselves in their former stage of existence, of which they are ashamed, nor of the efforts they are making in this transitional stage to acquire a fund of knowledge for the purpose of ultimately discarding their acquired bodies, and developing their ethereal wings as they pass into the higher and nobler condition.

  “We left the carriage to go to a spot about a mile off, through lanes, muddy and rutty, for the purpose of inspecting some remarkable stones. All the party would not walk, and the conveyances could proceed no nearer. The more enthusiastic did go on, and I was of the number. What further stimulated me to do so was the fact that the third Merewig, she who had partially cleaned my scoring off her back, plucked up her skirts, and strode ahead. I hurried after and caught her up. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said I. ‘You must excuse the interest I take in antiquities, but I suppose it is a long time since you were a girl.’ Of course, my meaning was obvious; I referred to her earlier existence, before she borrowed her present body. But she stopped abruptly, gave me a withering look, and went back to rejoin another group of pedestrians. Ha! my friend, I verily believe that the boat is being lifted. The tide is flowing in.”

  “The tide is flowing,” I said; and then added, “really, Major Donelly, your story ought not to be confined to the narrow circle of your intimates.”

  “That is true,” he replied. “But my desire to make it known has been damped by the way in which Alec was received, or rather rejected, by the Secretary of the Society for Psychical Research.”

  “But I do not mean that you should tell it to the Society for Psychical Research.”

  “To whom, then?”

  “Tell it to the Horse Marines.”

  The Devil’s Mill

  I am, what you have known me to be, a man of an inquiring mind, of broad interests, and of persistent research. It matters not whether the objects of pursuit be natural history, antiquities, ethnology I am interested in all, and when an opportunity offered to me of combining research in botany and in a special branch of archaeology, I seized it with enthusiasm. Properly the botanical study would be in a special branch also the glassworts that abound in the saltings of the mouth of the Blackwater. Here are wide tracks of soil, traversed in all directions by threads of water when the tide is in, and by rifts of mud when the tide is out; and these patches of soil, covered with sea-lavender, thrift, and various plants that live on the verge of salt water, are inundated occasionally at the very high tides. Around the coast are, moreover, the Red Hills, mysterious mounds of clay baked red, by whom, for what purpose, and at what period is wholly unknown. My purpose was, one fine day, to combine an examination of the situation of these Red Hills with a research among the glassworts.

  Towards evening the weather changed, and the night came on, and found me in the labyrinth of patches of soil threaded by water channels, and I found it extremely difficult to make my way to the mainland. It is hard to say which were worse to cross the lines of water when the tide flowed, or the gulfs of horrible mud at ebb, and the rapidity with which the darkness came on caused great bewilderment in me. Were I to flounder into the mud I might sink and never come up again; some of the channels were too wide to be leaped, and when a blinding rain came on, and I could not see the low shore, I completely lost myself in the maze. I ran this way to escape, and was brought up by a wide streak of mud, impossible to pass; I turned back, and sought a point where I could tread, and in these twistings and doublings lost all knowledge of my direction. A night on the saltings in rain and mist and cold was not to be contemplated without alarm.

  I became at length so fagged that I sat down in the rain, I drew out a flask of cognac, and took a long pull at it. My limbs were weary, my joints stiff. Then, feeling that if I sat much longer where I was I should become too rigid to move at all, I rose wearily and resumed my trudge. It was too dark for me to consult my watch. I tried to strike a light, but in vain the matches were extinguished the moment they developed a flame. I expected every moment to be brought up by one of the runs of water and mud, but to my inexpressible delight found that I had actually reached the mainland, but at what point I had no idea, whether on the Bradwell side, or on Mersea Island, or on that of Tollesbury. Proceed much farther I could not, so utterly exhausted was I. Happily, to my great relief, I saw before me a gleam of light. With revived courage I pushed towards it, and presently was able to distinguish the gigantic form of a windmill, with the wings revolving at a prodigious rate. I stumbled to the tail of the mill and groped my way wearily to the foot of the tall ladder.

  Up this I scrambled on hands and feet and reached the door, from beneath which shot a streak of light. I shouted, and struck against the door. No answer was accorded. I was impatient, I craved for light; feeling upwards with my hand, which was cold and wet, I reached the hasp, and threw the door open. At once the light flooded me and so dazzled my eyes that I could distinguish nothing clearly at first; but I saw the figure of a man the miller, doubtless standing before me. Pulling myself together, I stated my case and solicited admission. He made no reply, and, accepting this as implying consent, I entered and shut the door behind me. As my eyes became accustomed to the light I was better able to discern what was before me. The man was not dusted white like a miller, but was covered with sand. The eyes were black and piercing, and searched me through and through. I could see no sacks of corn, no signs of flour, nor was there in the air the pleasant odour of reduced wheat.

  Presently the man asked: “What has brought you hither?”

  “Science,” I replied.

  “Not so,” said he. “Fate.”

  “Fate, if you will,” I observed; “but an untoward one that has played the fool with me all this live-long day.”

  “No; it has brought you to me.”

  “That is true. You are the miller, I suppose?”

  “Certainly; a miller.”

  “But I see no flour.”

  “I do not grind corn, I polish.”

  “Polish this is a marvel to me. What do you polish?”

  “Glasses,” he replied. “Psychoscopic lens.”

  “Strange—I never heard of them,” I remarked.

  “No; you have not heard of them because they are not yet in the market. Fate has brought you hither to make your fortune by disposing of them for me.”

  “I am not a rich man, far from it; and I shall be heartily glad if you will put me in the way of increasing my income. But what is the nature of your invention?”

  “Come and see.”

  He led the way up the ladder to the storey above. Light was there also. As he ascended a shower of sand fell from him over me, and as I mounted I was constrai
ned to close my eyes to avoid being blinded. On reaching the upper stage I saw that it was full of machinery totally unlike that of a flour mill, and all of the most delicate description, set in action by the revolutions of the sails. Some of the mechanism revolved at a rapidity so great that I could not follow it.

  “For what purpose is this?” I inquired.

  “Polishing glasses. Look here!” He opened a box that was fed by the machine. “Watch them as they are discharged. But the quality of the glass is the main thing; and that is my secret. There comes one complete.”

  As he spoke an oval lens, about the size of an eye, dropped into the drawer.

  “These,” said he, “are psychoscopes,” and he laughed a hateful, discordant laugh.

  “If I am to act as your agent,” said I, “I must be able to understand their special qualities. Let me try one.”

  He hastily put his hand between me and the box. “No,” said he. “Not now—later, as much as you will.”

  “Then explain their properties to me.”

  “They have but one property.”

  “And that is?”

  “He who wears these glasses can see into a man’s soul and read all that passes therein.”

  “Good heavens! I can hardly believe this possible.”

  “Oh, you will believe it when you come to use the spectacles. But come, you must eat and drink; follow me.”

  I le led the way into a narrow apartment, where was a tray on a small table, with food and wine on it. I was too hungry and thirsty not to do justice to what was provided. The wine was fiery. I would have relished my meal better had not the miller’s eye been on me the whole time—a hard, cruel eye.

  The generous wine had roused my spirits, and I began to take a lively interest in the invention.

  “Do you mean to tell me,” said I, “that by means of these glasses you can see what is passing in the mind of another?”

  “You can read the thoughts as if printed in a book.”

  “That must be an immense advantage,” said I.

  “Immeasurable,” acquiesced the miller. “No man will be able to deceive you—no woman either.”

  “A bad time for some folk,” said I.

  “A bad time for everyone. Everyone has got two sides, his outer side and his inner. The outer all they see, the inner he keeps to himself. My psychoscope will turn every man inside out. It is the last word of science. We are preparing a lively time for the world. There will be no more privacy; no one will relish being seen through by everyone who uses my spectacles. Children will cease to respect their parents, subjects their rulers; it will break down all discipline, all mutual regard; it will dissolve all marriages, and prevent any from being contracted. There will not be rope enough for those who would hang themselves to escape being seen through. The Thames will be choked with the corpses of those who see no other way of concealing their thoughts. A lively time, indeed! But see the dawn is creeping on, and you must be off. Turn out your bag, and let me fill it with the glasses.”

  I objected that the bag contained my botanical specimens.

  “Bah!” said he, “glass-wort is always growing, and everywhere on the coast. You can have the glasses only from me and now.”

  I did as he required, and he, going to the drawer, brought out as many lens as his hands could carry, and thrust them into the receptacle; then, taking me by the shoulders, he pushed me before him to the door, opened it, made me pass through, and shut and bolted it behind me.

  I descended to the ground. The day was indeed breaking, and the sails appeared white and ghost-like as they whirled.

  My fatigue was gone. I pursued my way till I gained a road that eventually led me to Chelmsford, where I took the train for London. Whilst in it I had leisure for thought. My brain became calm. I opened my bag. It was stuffed with unframed glasses. I considered the matter, and saw that, as the miller had said, a great opportunity was offered me. In the train, with a stump of a pencil, I jotted down my notion of an advertisement:

  The Psychoscope the latest and most wonderful of scientific discoveries.

  Glasses whereby the mind of any individual may be read.

  Fifteen guineas for a pair.

  But as yet I had no office. I must secure one immediately. No sooner had I reached London than I set to work to find suitable premises, and secured an office in Mantle Street. That done, I inserted my advertisement in several papers. I had confidently expected to be besieged by applicants on the morrow; but I was disappointed. The English mind absorbs ideas slowly and with difficulty, and is cautious and suspicious. I repeated my advertisement several times, and in the meantime visited an optician and provided myself with frames, to which I fitted the lenses myself.

  My first client was mistrustful. He would not buy until he had proved the quality of the glasses. I bade him mount a pair on his nose, and go into the street. He returned before very long in the utmost excitement.

  “Goodness me!” he exclaimed; “it is true. I have read the thoughts of several passers-by. This is a wonderful discovery; here is the money. I must certainly secure these glasses.”

  After this several applicants arrived, and by evening I had sold to the amount of a hundred and twenty pounds, and I reckoned on doubling and trebling the amount on the morrow and ensuing day. I returned to my lodgings in the evening in exuberant spirits. I supposed that I would speedily dispose of all my stock, and would have to revisit the mill by the Blackwater to obtain a fresh supply. But scarcely had I settled into my office on the ensuing morning before in dashed the gentleman who had been the first purchaser, and cast the pair of spectacles on the table.

  “Take these accursed things back!” said he, “and let me have my fifteen guineas again. Confound you, what do you mean by selling me such things as these?”

  “Why, what is wrong with them?”

  “Everything. I had them on my nose when I went home last night to dinner, and my wife came to meet me in the hall, all welcome and smiles; but curse you I saw down into her heart, and she was saying there: ‘Here comes this preposterous old booby again to pester the life out of me always fuss, fuss, fuss about trifles, never content, grumbling at his food, exacting attention. I wish I had married Adolph Bloch instead of him. Adolph was at least not a fidget, and all that was against him was his German origin. Now I am mated to a dolt for the rest of my days.’ That was a nice thing for me to spy out in my wife’s mind. I left the spectacles after that in my study. Happening to go in there somewhat later, whom should I find there but our parlour-maid, Susan, with the spectacles on. Seeing them lying on the table, the fancy had taken her to put them across her nose and just then I entered. What she saw in me I can’t say, but she became at once pert and familiar, and—” he panted for breath “I pulled the glasses off her nose, and ordered her to leave the room. Merciful power! I have not had a wink of sleep all night. I was so happy with my wife; I thought that she worshipped the very ground I trod upon and then to find out that she was still hankering after that Bloch, and despised me as a booby and a dolt. And how can I ever look Susan in the face again after what she saw, or fancied she saw, in me? Return me my money.”

  “That,” I replied, “is too much to expect. It was a fair deal. But I will return you ten pounds, and you must forfeit the rest.”

  After a little demur the offer was accepted, and the gentleman departed.

  The next to arrive was, by his looks, a man of business, to whom on the previous day I had sold an eyeglass. He was in a condition of excitement.

  “Look here,” said he, “I don’t object to the glass; but it is not a pleasant thing to use. I put it to my eye yesterday when I called on my solicitor, relative to a concern I am in. He was courteous and plausible, as a lawyer always is when he thinks he can get money out of you. I read his inmost soul, and he said this, not with his lips, but in his heart: ‘What a rogue this fellow is’—meaning me—‘I must take care that he does not involve me in his rascalities. But I’ll pick the flesh off his
bones before I let him drop.’ You may believe, sir, I walked out of his office and returned to mine, where I met a young fellow who was meditating the investment of a large sum of money, into which he had lately come, in a company I am floating.

  “Why with an oath that fellow must have been here yesterday and bought one of your glasses, for he looked me steadily in the face; but I also had my glass to my eye, and I read his soul before the words left his lips. I saw then that he utterly mistrusted me, and that he saw through the whole bogus investment, and he had come to inform me that he would not soil his fingers by dealing with me further. So I lost the handling often thousand pounds through your confounded spectacles. Look here, old man,” said he, assuming a genial and familiar tone, “I don’t object to your glasses so long as you sell them only to me; but if you dispose of them to clients of mine, all I can say is that you are a howling cad, and deserve a horsewhipping. If this goes on, I may as well put up my shutters and have done with business. I’ll give you a hundred pounds for your stock.”

  “Can’t afford to do it,” said I.

  “Then I’m done for!” he exclaimed with an oath, and swung out of the office.

  During the next hour I received three visits of inquiries concerning the glasses, but effected only one sale.

  Then in bounced a lady, the only person of the weaker sex who had been a purchaser the day before. She was, obviously, a spinster, and beyond the middle age, and was clearly a person of means. She seated herself, and put up her veil. In her hand was a reticule.

  “Oh, sir!” she said, “you do not know how you have upset me. These glasses have unquestionably served me well, but they have prodigiously troubled me. You may not suppose it, but I am an unmarried lady. I have been attended, as I always considered, by the most devoted servants ever attentive, forestalling my wishes, and in them I have reposed implicit confidence. My butler has been in my service fifteen years, and my lady’s-maid for ten. When my maid was dressing me for dinner last night, she said to me, with sympathetic voice: ‘Oh, ma’am, you should not have gone to call on Lady Dupine without your fur jacket and respirator. I am so afraid you will have one of your attacks of bronchitis again.’