JULIAN HAWTHORNE
His first successful story was 'Bressant'
(1872), the forerunner of a long list of
novels, of which may be particularized
three: Garth' (1875), 'Sebastian Strome,'
and 'Archibald Malmaison' (1884).
His first successful story was 'Bressant'
(1872), the forerunner of a long list of
novels, of which may be particularized
three: Garth' (1875), 'Sebastian Strome,'
and 'Archibald Malmaison' (1884).
Warner - World's Best Literature - v12 - Gre to Hen
]
She can take my bit of lavender with her
―――――
-
Fifth Woman-But where is Mattern?
First Woman - Yes, where is Mattern?
Second Woman - Oh, he! he's sitting over there in the ale-
house.
First Woman Most like he doesn't know a word of what
has happened.
Second Woman-He cares for nothing so long as he has his
dram. He knows nothing about it.
Pleschke Haven't you - haven't you told him then - told
him that there's death-in his house?
—
――
Third Woman-He might know that without any telling.
Fourth Woman- I don't say anything, Heaven forbid! But
every one knows who has killed the girl.
Seidel-You're right there! The whole village, as you might
say, knows that. There's a lump on her as big as my fist.
Fifth Woman No grass grows where that fellow sets his feet.
Seidel-I was there when they changed her wet clothes, and
I saw it as plain as I see you. She has a lump on her as big
as my fist- and that's what has killed her.
First Woman-It's Mattern must answer for her, and no one
else.
## p. 7036 (#428) ###########################################
7036
GERHART HAUPTMANN
All [speaking all at once and vehemently, but in a whisper]-
No one else, no one else.
Second woman. He's a murderer, he is.
All [full of fury, but in a low tone]-A murderer, a mur-
derer!
[The harsh voice of the tipsy Mattern is heard:]
"A conscience from all trou-ble free,
What so-ofter pillow can there be ? »
[He appears in the doorway and shouts:]
are-
Hannele! Hannele! You brat! where are you hiding? [He
staggers in, leaning against the door-jamb. ] I'll count up to five,
and I'll wait not a moment longer. One, two- Three and one
I tell you, my girl, you'd better not make me wild. If I
have to search for you and find you, you hussy, I'll pound you
to a jelly, I will! [Starts as he notices the others who are present,
and who remain as still as death. ] What do you want here? [No
answer. ] How do you come here? Was it the Devil sent you,
eh? Just clear out of this, now! Well, are you going to stop all
night? [He laughs to himself. ] Wait a minute I know what
it is. It's nothing but that. I have a little too much in my
noddle That's what brings 'em. [He sings:]
"A con— science from all trou
་
What so
ouble free,
ofter pillow can there be? "
-
-
—
-
[Starts in fear. ] Are you still there? [In a sudden outburst
of fury, looking around for something to attack them with. ] I'll
take the first thing that comes handy-
A Man has entered, wearing a threadbare brown cloak. He is about
thirty, has long black hair, and a pale face with the features of the
schoolmaster Gottwald. He has a slouch hat in his left hand and
sandals on his feet. He appears weary and travel-stained. He
touches Mattern lightly on the arm, interrupting his speech. Mattern
turns sharply round. The stranger looks him straight in the face,
gravely and quietly, and says humbly:
Stranger-Mattern, God's greeting to you!
Mattern-How have you come here? What do you want?
Stranger [in a tone of humble entreaty]—I have walked till
my feet are bleeding; give me water to wash them. The hot
sun has parched me; give me wine to drink, and to refresh me.
## p. 7037 (#429) ###########################################
GERHART HAUPTMANN
7037
I have not broken bread since I set forth in the morning; I am
hungry.
――――――
Mattern What's that to me?
round here ? Go and work. I have to work too.
What brings you tramping
Stranger-I am a workman.
Mattern-You're a tramp, that's what you are. A workman
need not go about begging.
Stranger-I am a workman without wages.
Mattern-You're a tramp, you are.
Stranger [diffidently, submissively, but at the same time impress-
ively]-I am a physician. It may be that you have need of me.
Mattern - I'm all right; I don't need any doctor.
Stranger [his voice trembling with inward emotion]- Mattern,
bethink you! You need give me no water, and yet I will heal
You may give me no bread to eat, and yet, God helping
me, I will make you whole.
you.
Mattern-You get out of this! Go about your business. I
have sound bones in my body; I need no doctor: do you under-
stand?
Stranger - Mattern, bethink you! I will wash your feet for
you; I will give you wine to drink; you shall eat white bread;
tread me under foot, and yet, God helping me, I will make you
whole and sound.
Mattern-Now, will you go or will you not? If you won't
get out of this, I tell you I'll—
Stranger [in a tone of earnest admonition]- Mattern, do you
know what you have in your house?
Mattern - All that belongs there; all that belongs there; all
that belongs there: you don't belong there. Just get out, now!
Stranger [simply] - Your daughter is ill.
Mattern- Her illness doesn't need any doctor. It's nothing
but laziness, her illness isn't. I can knock that out of her with-
out your help.
Stranger [solemnly]- Mattern, I come as a messenger to you.
Mattern - As a messenger, eh? Who from?
Stranger-I come from the Father, and I go to the Father.
What have you done with his child?
Mattern- How am I to know what's become of her? What
have I to do with his children? He's never troubled about her,
he hasn't.
Stranger [firmly]- You have death in your house.
## p. 7038 (#430) ###########################################
7038
GERHART HAUPTMANN
Mattern [now notices Hannele lying there; goes in speechless
astonishment up to the coffin, and looks into it; then murmurs:]
Where have you got the beautiful clothes? Who has bought you
the crystal coffin?
[The mourners whisper to each other vehemently but softly. The word
"Murderer! " is heard again and again, uttered in a threatening
tone. ]
Mattern [softly, trembling] - I've never ill-used you; I've
clothed you; I've fed you. [Turning insolently upon the Stran-
ger. ] What do you want with me? What have I to do with all
this?
Stranger - Mattern, have you anything to say to me?
[The muttering among the mourners becomes ever more vehement and angry,
and the word "Murderer! " "Murderer! " becomes more frequently
audible. ]
Stranger - Have you nothing to reproach yourself with?
Have you never torn her from her bed by night? Has she
never fallen as though dead under your blows?
Mattern [beside himself with rage]-Strike me dead if she
here, on the spot! Heaven's lightning blast me if I've
has
been to blame!
[A flash of pale-blue lightning, and distant thunder. ]
-
All [speaking together] — There's a thunder-storm coming!
Right in the middle of winter! He's perjured himself! - The
child-murderer has perjured himself!
Stranger [impressively but kindly] — Have you still nothing to
say to me, Mattern?
Mattern [in pitiable terror]-Who loves his child chastens it.
I've done nothing but good to the girl. I've kept her as my
child. I've a right to punish her when she does wrong.
The Women [advancing threateningly towards him] — Murderer!
Murderer! Murderer!
Mattern-She's lied to me and cheated me. She has robbed
me day by day.
Stranger-Are you speaking the truth?
Mattern-God strike me.
-
[At this moment a cowslip, "the Key-of-Heaven," is seen in Hannele's
folded hands, emitting a yellow-green radiance. Mattern stares at it
as though out of his senses, trembling all over. ]
## p. 7039 (#431) ###########################################
GERHART HAUPTMANN
7039
Stranger-Mattern, you are lying!
All [in the greatest excitement]-A miracle! a miracle!
Pleschke- The girl-the girl-is a-a saint. He has he
has sworn away-body-body and soul.
――――――――――
Mattern [shrieks]—I'll go and hang myself! [Clasps his head
between his hands and rushes off. ]
Stranger [goes up to Hannele's coffin, and turns so as to face
the others, who all draw back reverently from the Figure which
now stands in full majesty, addressing them] — Fear nothing. [He
bends down and takes hold of Hannele's hand. He speaks with
the deepest tenderness. ] The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth.
[With intensity and assured power. ] Johanna Mattern, arise!
[A gold-green radiance fills the room.
Hannele opens her eyes, and raises
herself by aid of the Stranger's hand, but without daring to look in
his face. She steps out of the coffin, and at once sinks to the ground
at the feet of the Awakener. Terror seizes upon all the others, and
they flee. The Stranger and Hannele remain alone. The brown
mantle has slipped from his shoulders, and he stands in a golden-
white robe. ]
Stranger-Who am I?
Hannele - Thou!
Stranger - Name my name.
Hannele [whispers, trembling with awe]- Holy! holy!
Stranger-I know all thy sorrows and thy sufferings.
Stranger [tenderly]-Hannele!
Hannele [in an ecstasy, her head bowed as low as possible]—
He is there.
Hannele - Thou dear, dear—
Stranger-Arise.
Hannele-Thy robe is spotless.
I am full of stains.
Stranger [laying his right hand on Hannele's head] - Thus I
take away all baseness from thee. [Raising her face toward him
with gentle force, he touches her eyes. ] Behold, I bestow on thine
eyes eternal light. Let them be filled with the light of countless
suns; with the light of endless day, from morning-glow to
evening-glow, from evening-glow to morning-glow. Let them be
filled with the brightness of all that shines: blue sea, blue sky,
and the green plains of eternity. [He touches her ear. ] Behold,
I give to thine ear to hear all the rejoicing of all the millions of
angels in the million heavens of God. [He touches her lips. ]
## p. 7040 (#432) ###########################################
7040
GERHART HAUPTMANN
Behold, I set free thy stammering tongue, and lay upon it thy
soul, and my soul, and the soul of God in the highest.
[Hannele, her whole body trembling, attempts to rise. As though weighed
down by an infinite burden of rapture, she cannot do so. In a storm
of sobs and tears, she buries her head on the Stranger's breast. ]
Stranger With these tears I wash from thy soul all the dust
and anguish of the world. I will exalt thy feet above the stars
of God.
___
To soft music, and stroking Hannele's hair with his hand, the Stranger
speaks as follows. As he is speaking Angelic Forms appear in the
doorway, great and small, youths and maidens; they pause diffidently,
then venture in, swinging censers and decorating the chamber with
hangings and wreaths.
The City of the Blessèd is marvelously fair,
And peace and utter happiness are never-ending there.
[Harps, at first played softly, gradually ring out loud and clear. ]
The houses are of marble, the roofs of gold so fine,
And down their silver channels bubble brooks of ruby wine.
The streets that shine so white, so white, are all bestrewn with
flowers,
And endless peals of wedding bells ring out from all the towers.
The pinnacles, as green as May, gleam in the morning light,
Beset with flickering butterflies, with rose-wreaths decked and dight.
Twelve milk-white swans fly round them in mazy circles wide,
And preen themselves, and ruffle up their plumage in their pride.
They soar aloft so bravely through the shining heavenly air,
With fragrance all a-quiver and with golden trumpet-blare;
In circle-sweeps majestical forever they are winging,
And the pulsing of their pinions is like harp-strings softly ringing.
They look abroad o'er Sion, on garden and on sea,
And green and filmy streamers behind them flutter free.
And underneath them wander, throughout the heavenly land,
The people in their feast array, forever hand in hand;
And then into the wide, wide sea filled with the red, red wine,
Behold! they plunge their bodies with glory all a-shine -
They plunge their shining bodies into the gleaming sea,
Till in the deep clear purple they're swallowed utterly;
And when again they leap aloft rejoicing from the flood,
Their sins have all been washed away in Jesus's blessed blood.
## p. 7041 (#433) ###########################################
7041
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
(1846-)
M
R. HAWTHORNE is to be added to the group of men who enter
into active literary life with the handicap of being the sons
of authors of such high distinction that only a brave strug-
gle insures individuality. The only son of Nathaniel Hawthorne, he
was born in Boston in 1846, the same year that gave to the American
reading public Mosses from an Old Manse. ' His early boyhood was
passed in Liverpool during his father's consulate, but on the return
of the family to America after 1860, Julian became a pupil in the
famous school of Frank Sanborn in Concord.
He entered Harvard in 1863, where he was,
on the whole, more distinguished for athlet-
ics than for application to study. He took
a course in civil engineering both at Har-
vard and in Dresden, and even practiced
that congenial outdoor occupation and prac-
tical hydrographics for some years, until lit-
erature as a profession engrossed him.
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
His first successful story was 'Bressant'
(1872), the forerunner of a long list of
novels, of which may be particularized
three: Garth' (1875), 'Sebastian Strome,'
and 'Archibald Malmaison' (1884). Mr. Haw-
thorne made his home in London for about
seven years, actively engaged in literary work in connection with the
English and the American press. He returned to the United States
in 1882, but presently went across the ocean again with an idea of
remaining in England indefinitely; and of late years his homes have
been London, Long Island, and the island of Jamaica,-in which last
convenient West-Indian retreat he resided for several seasons prior
to 1896. His novel 'A Fool of Nature,' which won him in 1896 a
prize of $10,000 in a literary competition arranged by the New York
Herald (the contest enlisting eleven hundred other competitors), was
written in that West-Indian hermitage.
Mr. Hawthorne's best work suggests more than one element that
distinguishes his father's stories. There is the psychologic accent, the
touch of mystery, the avoidance of the stock properties of romance.
XII-441
## p. 7042 (#434) ###########################################
7042
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
He is an expert literary craftsman. One cannot but feel that with a
firmer grip on his own fancy, and with an early discipline in style
and in methods of treatment, his fictions would be of a finer individ-
uality. But they hold the interest, and they show an aim at reaching
beyond the scope of the ordinary novel of human character. Garth'
and 'Archibald Malmaison have been cited as perhaps his two most
successful novels. Into Garth' is woven the history of a New Eng-
land home and family line, with a kind of curse upon them inherited
from the shadowy past of Indian days; and the career of a curiously
fascinating young hero, a survival or reincarnation of "primeval
man," who declares that he feels "as though the earth were my body
and I saw through it and lived through it, just as I do my human
body; . . . and then I was as strong as the whole world and as
happy as heaven. " In 'Archibald Malmaison' we have a brief, gloomy
drama, turning on a central character whose mental personality every
few years inevitably and shockingly "reverts. " At seven years the
little boy goes back to his boyhood of two or three, forgetting every-
thing that has been in his mind and life since that term; in his early
teens he lapses to nearly his development at mere babyhood, with the
intervening time a blank. At last, a man grown, this weird fatality,
combined with his knowledge of a hidden room (known only to him-
self) in his home, and a mad love affair, bring about a terrible mis-
adventure, closing the story.
THE EAST WING: ARCHIBALD IS A CHANGELING
From Archibald Malmaison. Copyright 1884, by Funk & Wagnalls
THE
HE room itself was long, narrow, and comparatively low; the
latticed windows were sunk several feet into the massive
walls; lengths of brownish-green and yellow tapestry, none
the fresher for its two centuries and more of existence, still pro-
tested against the modern heresy of wall-paper; and in a panel
frame over the fireplace was seen the portrait, by Sir Godfrey
Kneller, of the Jacobite baronet. It was a half-length, in officer's
uniform: one hand holding the hilt of a sword against the breast,
while the forefinger of the other hand pointed diagonally down-
ward, as much as to say, "I vanished in that direction! "
The fireplace, it should be noted, was built on the side of the
room opposite to the windows; that is to say, in one of the partition
walls. And what was on the other side of this partition? Not the
large chamber opening into the corridor- that lay at right angles
## p. 7043 (#435) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7043
to the east chamber, along the southern front of the wing. Not
the corridor either, though it ran for some distance parallel to
the east chamber, and had a door on the east side. But this
door led into a great dark closet, as big as an ordinary room,
and used as a receptacle for rubbish. Was it the dark closet,
then, that adjoined the east chamber on the other side of the
partition? No, once more. Had a window been opened through
the closet wall, it would have looked, not into Archibald's room,
but into a narrow blind court or well, entirely inclosed between
four stone walls, and of no apparent use save as a somewhat
clumsy architectural expedient. There was no present way of
getting into this well, or even of looking into it, unless one had
been at the pains to mount on the roof of the house and peer
down. As a matter of fact, its existence was only made known by
the reports of an occasional workman engaged in renewing the
tiles, or mending a decayed chimney. An accurate survey of the
building would of course have revealed it at once; but nothing
of the kind had been thought of within the memory of man.
Such a survey would also have revealed what no one in the
least suspected, but which was nevertheless a fact of startling
significance; namely, that the blind court was at least fifteen
feet shorter and twenty-five feet narrower than it ought to have
been!
Archibald was as far from suspecting it as anybody; indeed, he
most likely never troubled his head about builders' plans in his
life. But he thought a great deal of his great-grandfather's por-
trait; and since it was so placed as to be in view of the most
comfortable chair before the fire, he spent many hours of every
week gazing at it. What was Sir Charles pointing at with that
left forefinger? And what meant that peculiarly intent and
slightly frowning glance which the painted eyes forever bent
upon his own? Archibald probably had a few of Mrs. Rad-
cliffe's romances along with the other valuable books on his
shelves, and he may have cherished a notion that a treasure or
an important secret of some sort was concealed in the vicinity.
Following down the direction of the pointing finger, he found
that it intersected the floor at a spot about five feet to the right
of the side of the fireplace. The floor of the chamber was of
solid oak planking, blackened by age; and it appeared to be
no less solid at this point than at any other. Nevertheless, he
thought it would be good fun, and at all events would do no
## p. 7044 (#436) ###########################################
7044
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
harm, to cut a hole there and see what was underneath. Ac-
cordingly he quietly procured a saw and a hammer and chisel,
and one day, when the family were away from home, he locked
himself into his room and went to work. The job was not an
easy one, the tough oak wood being almost enough to turn the
edge of his chisel, and there being no purchase at all for the
saw. After a quarter of an hour's chipping and hammering with
very little result, he paused to rest. The board at which he had
been working, and which met the wall at right angles, was very
short, not more than eighteen inches long, indeed; being inserted
merely to fill up the gap caused by a deficiency in length of the
plank of which it was the continuation. Between the two adjoin-
ing ends was a crack of some width, and into that crack did
Archibald idly stick his chisel. It seemed to him that the crack
widened, so that he was able to press the blade of the chisel
down to its thickest part. He now worked it eagerly backward
and forward, and to his delight, the crack rapidly widened still
further; in fact, the short board was sliding back underneath the
wainscot. A small oblong cavity was thus revealed, into which
the young discoverer glowered with beating heart and vast antici-
pations.
What he found could scarcely be said to do those anticipations
justice; it was neither a casket of precious stones, nor a docu-
ment establishing the family right of ownership of the whole
county of Sussex. It was nothing more than a tarnished rod of
silver, about nine inches in length, and twisted into an irregular
sort of corkscrew shape. One end terminated in a broad flat
button; the other in a blunted point. There was nothing else in
the hole-nothing to show what the rod was meant for, or why
it was so ingeniously hidden there. And yet, reflected Archibald,
could it have been so hidden, and its place of concealment so
mysteriously indicated, without any ulterior purpose whatever?
It was incredible! Why, the whole portrait was evidently painted
with no other object than that of indicating the rod's where-
abouts. Either, then, there was or had been something else in
the cavity in addition to the rod, or the rod was intended to
be used in some way still unexplained. So much was beyond
question.
Thus cogitated Archibald; that is to say, thus he might
have cogitated, for there is no direct evidence of what passed
through his mind. And in the first place, he made an exhaustive
## p. 7045 (#437) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7045
examination of the cavity, and convinced himself not only that
there was nothing else except dust to be got out of it, but also
that it opened into no other cavity which might prove more fruit-
ful. His next step was to study the silver rod, in the hope that
scrutiny or inspiration might suggest to him what it was good
for. His pains were rewarded by finding on the flat head the
nearly obliterated figures 3 and 5, inscribed one above the other
in the manner of a vulgar fraction,- thus, ; and by the convic-
tion that the spiral conformation of the rod was not the result
of accident, as he had at first supposed, but had been communi-
cated to it intentionally, for some purpose unknown. These con-
clusions naturally stimulated his curiosity more than ever, but
nothing came of it. The boy was a clever boy, but he was not
a detective trained in this species of research, and the problem
was beyond his ingenuity. He made every application of the
figures 3 and 5 that imagination could suggest; he took them in
feet, in inches, in yards; he added them together, and he sub-
tracted one from the other: all in vain. The only thing he did
not do was to take any one else into his confidence; he said not
a word about the affair even to Kate, being resolved that if
there were a mystery it should be revealed, at least in the first
instance, to no one else besides himself. At length, after sev-
eral days spent in fruitless experiments and loss of temper, he
returned the rod to its hiding-place, with the determination to
give himself a rest for a while and see what time and accident
would do for him. This plan, though undoubtedly prudent,
seemed likely to effect no more than the others; and over a year
passed away without the rod's being again disturbed. By degrees
his thoughts ceased to dwell so persistently upon the unsolved
puzzle, and other interests took possession of his mind. The
tragedy of his aunt's death, his love for Kate, his studies, his
prospects a hundred things gave him occupation, until the sil-
ver rod was half forgotten.
In the latter part of 1813, however, he accidentally made a
rather remarkable discovery.
He had for the first time been out hunting with his father
and the neighboring country gentlemen in the autumn of this
year, and it appears that on two occasions he had the brush
awarded to him. At his request the heads of the two foxes were
mounted for him, and he proposed to put them up on either side
his fireplace.
## p. 7046 (#438) ###########################################
7046
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
The wall, above and for a few inches to the right and left
of the mantelpiece, was bare of tapestry; the first-named place
being occupied by the portrait, while the sides were four feet up
the oaken wainscot which surrounded the whole room behind the
tapestry, and from thence to the ceiling, plaster. The mantel-
piece and fireplace were of a dark slaty stone and of brick,
respectively.
Archibald fixed upon what he considered the most effective
positions for his heads—just above the level of the wainscot, and
near enough to the mantelpiece not to be interfered with by the
tapestry. He nailed up one of them on the left-hand side, the
nails penetrating with just sufficient resistance in the firm plaster;
and then, measuring carefully to the corresponding point on the
right-hand side, he proceeded to affix the other head there. But
the nail on this occasion could not be made to go in; and on his
attempting to force it with a heavier stroke of the hammer, it
bent beneath the blow and the hammer came sharply into con-
tact with the white surface of the wall, producing a clinking
sound as from an impact on metal.
A brief investigation now revealed the fact that a circular
disk of iron, about three inches in diameter, and painted white to
match the plaster, was here let into the wall. What could be
the object of it? With a fresh nail the boy began to scratch off
the paint from the surface of the disk, in order to determine
whether it were actually iron, or some other metal; in so doing
a small movable lid like the screen of a keyhole was pushed
aside, disclosing a little round aperture underneath. Archibald
pushed the nail into it, thereby informing himself that the hole
went straight into the wall, for a distance greater than the length
of the nail; but how much greater, and what was at the end of
it, he could only conjecture.
We must imagine him now standing upon a chair with the
nail in his hand, casting about in his mind for some means of
probing this mysterious and unexpected hole to the bottom. At
this juncture he happens to glance upward, and meets the intent
regard of his pictured ancestor, who seems to have been silently
watching him all this time, and only to be prevented by unavoid-
able circumstances from speaking out and telling him what to do
next. And there is that constant forefinger pointing-at what?
At the cavity in the floor, of course, but not at that alone; for if
you observe, this same new-found hole in the wall is a third point
## p. 7047 (#439) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7047
in the straight line between the end of the forefinger and the
hiding-place of the silver rod; furthermore, the hole is, as nearly
as can be estimated without actual measurement, three feet dis-
tant from the forefinger and five feet from the rod: the problem
of three above and five below has solved itself in the twinkling
of an eye, and it only remains to act accordingly!
Archibald sprang to the floor in no small excitement; but
the first thing that he did was to see that both his doors were
securely fastened. Then he advanced upon the mystery with
heightened color and beating heart, his imagination reveling in
the wildest forecasts of what might be in store; and anon turn-
ing him cold with sickening apprehension lest it should prove to
be nothing after all! But no: something there must be, some
buried secret, now to live once more for him, and for him only;
the secret whereof dim legends had come down through the
obscurity of two hundred years; the secret too of old Sir Charles
in the frame yonder, the man of magic repute. What could it
be? Some talisman, some volume of the Black Art, perhaps,
which would enable him to vanish at will into thin air, and to
travel with the speed of a wish from place to place; to become a
veritable enchanter, endowed with all supernatural powers. With
hands slightly tremulous from eagerness he pushed back the bit
of plank and drew forth the silver rod; then mounted on the
chair and applied it to the hole, which it fitted accurately. Be-
fore pushing it home he paused a moment.
In all the stories he had read, the possessors of magic secrets
had acquired the same only in exchange for something supposed
to be equally valuable; namely, their own souls. It was not to
be expected that Archibald would be able to modify the terms of
the bargain in his own case: was he then prepared to pay the
price? Every human being, probably, is called upon to give a
more or less direct answer to this question at some epoch of their
lives; and were it not for curiosity and skepticism, and an unwill-
ingness to profit by the experience of others, very likely that
answer might be more often favorable to virtue than it actually
is. Archibald did not hesitate long. Whether he decided to dis-
believe in any danger; whether he resolved to brave it whatever
it might be; or whether, having got thus far, he had not suf-
ficient control over his inclinations to resist going further,— at
all events he drew in his breath, set his boyish lips, and drove
the silver rod into the aperture with right good will.
## p. 7048 (#440) ###########################################
7046
JUI
The wall, above and
of the mantelpiece, was
being occupied by the
the oaken wainscot wh
tapestry, and from the
piece and fireplace w
respectively.
Archibald fixed 1
positions for his head
near enough to the
tapestry. He naile
nails penetrating w
and then, measur
right-hand side, 1:
the nail on this
attempting to f
bent beneath t
tact with the
sound as from
A brief i
disk of iron,
match the
the object
the paint
whether i
a small
aside, d
pushed
went s
of the
it, he
TT
nail
prob
this
rega
wa
ab
ת
(
(
## p. 7049 (#441) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7049.
==!
Cl
20
of an
the
secture"
herginter
the W.
ing
be
232
ba
walking ten paces, he came face-up against a wall lying
angles to the direction in which he had been moving.
cautiously round the corner, he saw at the end of a
embrasure a ponderous door of dark wood braced with
anding partly open with a key in the keyhole, as if some
d just come out, and in his haste had forgotten to shut
ck the door behind him. Archibald now slowly opened it
Tull extent; it creaked as it moved, and the draught of air
his candle flicker, and caused strange shadows to dance
moment in the unexplored void beyond. In another breath
bald had crossed the threshold and arrived at the goal of his
image.
t first he could see very little; but there could be no doubt
he was in a room which seemed to be of large extent, and
he existence of which he could by no means account. The
er, who has been better informed, will already have assigned
s true p
inexplained region mentioned some pages
k, betwe
burt and the east chamber. Groping
Archibald presently discerned a bur-
the wall, in which having placed his
ted over the room, so that the objects
Srth. It was a room of fair extent and
he
TA
ong the interior of the wall toward the left, was
et in height by two and a half in width. Archibald
n it quite easily.
The first place he scrutinized the mechanism of the re-
intelpiece. It was an extremely ingenious and yet
ce, and so accurately fitted in all its parts that after
ars, they still worked together almost as smoothly as.
After Archibald had poured a little of his gun-oil into
of the hinges, and along the grooves, he found that
stone structure would open and close as noiselessly and
is own jaws. It could be opened from the inside by
Silver rod in a hole corresponding to that on the out-
having practiced this opening and shutting until he was
hat he was thoroughly master of the process, he put the
pocket, pulled the jamb gently together behind him,
e in hand set forth along the tunnel.
way ca
1
as apparently furnished in a style of
ficence, such as no other apartment in
The arched ceiling was supported by
## p. 7049 (#442) ###########################################
7048
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
It turned slowly as it entered, the curve of its spiral evi-
dently following the corresponding windings of the hole. Inward
it twisted like a snake, until only some two inches still projected.
As the searcher after forbidden mysteries continued to press, some-
thing seemed to give way within; and at the same instant an odd
shuffling sound caused him to glance sharply over his left shoul-
der.
What was the matter with the mantelpiece? The whole of
the right jamb seemed to have started forward nearly a foot,
while the left jamb had retired by a corresponding distance into
the wall; the hearth, with the fire burning upon it, remained
meanwhile undisturbed. At first Archibald imagined that the
mantelpiece was going to fall, perhaps bringing down the whole.
partition with it; but when he had got over the first shock of sur-
prise sufficiently to make an examination, he found that the entire
structure of massive gray stone was swung upon a concealed
pivot, round which it turned independently of the brickwork of
the fireplace. The silver rod had released the spring by which
the mechanism was held in check, and an unsuspected doorway
was thus revealed, opening into the very substance of the appar-
ently solid wall. On getting down from his chair, he had no
difficulty in pulling forward the jamb far enough to satisfy him-
self that there was a cavity of unknown extent behind. And
from out of this cavity breathed a strange dry air, like the sigh
of a mummy.
As for the darkness in there, it was almost sub-
stantial, as of the central chamber in the great Pyramid.
Archibald may well have had some misgivings, for he was
only a boy, and this happened more than sixty years ago, when
ghosts and goblins had not come to be considered such inde-
fensible humbugs as they are now. Nevertheless, he was of a
singularly intrepid temperament, and besides, he had passed the
turning-point in this adventure a few minutes ago. Nothing,
therefore, would have turned him back now. Come what might
of it, he would see this business to an end.
It was however impossible to see anything without a light; it
would be necessary to fetch one of the rush candles from the
table in the corridor. It was a matter of half a minute for
the boy to go and return; then he edged himself through the
opening, and was standing in a kind of vaulted tunnel directly
behind the fireplace, the warmth of which he could feel when he
laid his hand on the bricks on that side.
that side. The tunnel, which
## p. 7049 (#443) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7049.
extended along the interior of the wall toward the left, was
about six feet in height by two and a half in width.
could walk in it quite easily.
Archibald
But in the first place he scrutinized the mechanism of the re-
volving mantelpiece. It was an extremely ingenious and yet
simple device, and so accurately fitted in all its parts that after
so many years, they still worked together almost as smoothly as
when new. After Archibald had poured a little of his gun-oil into
the joints of the hinges, and along the grooves, he found that
the heavy stone structure would open and close as noiselessly and
easily as his own jaws. It could be opened from the inside by
using the silver rod in a hole corresponding to that on the out-
side: and having practiced this opening and shutting until he was
satisfied that he was thoroughly master of the process, he put the
rod in his pocket, pulled the jamb gently together behind him,
and candle in hand set forth along the tunnel.
After walking ten paces, he came face-up against a wall lying
at right angles to the direction in which he had been moving.
Peering cautiously round the corner, he saw at the end of a
shallow embrasure a ponderous door of dark wood braced with
iron, standing partly open with a key in the keyhole, as if some
one had just come out, and in his haste had forgotten to shut
and lock the door behind him. Archibald now slowly opened it
to its full extent; it creaked as it moved, and the draught of air
made his candle flicker, and caused strange shadows to dance
for a moment in the unexplored void beyond. In another breath.
Archibald had crossed the threshold and arrived at the goal of his
pilgrimage.
At first he could see very little; but there could be no doubt
that he was in a room which seemed to be of large extent, and
for the existence of which he could by no means account. The
reader, who has been better informed, will already have assigned
it its true place in that unexplained region mentioned some pages.
back, between the blind court and the east chamber. Groping
his way cautiously about, Archibald presently discerned a bur-
nished sconce affixed to the wall, in which having placed his
candle, the light was reflected over the room, so that the objects
it contained stood dimly forth. It was a room of fair extent and
considerable height, and was apparently furnished in a style of
quaint and sombre magnificence, such as no other apartment in
Malmaison could show. The arched ceiling was supported by
## p. 7050 (#444) ###########################################
7050
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
vast oaken beams; the floor was inlaid with polished marbles.
The walls, instead of being hung with tapestry, were painted in
distemper with life-size figure subjects, representing, as far as the
boy could make out, some weird incantation scene. At one end
of the room stood a heavy cabinet, the shelves of which were
piled with gold and silver plate, richly chased, and evidently of
great value. Here in fact seemed to have been deposited many
of the precious heirlooms of the family, which had disappeared
during the Jacobite rebellions, and were supposed to have been
lost. The cabinet was made of ebony inlaid with ivory, as was
also a broad round table in the centre of the room. In a niche
opposite the cabinet gleamed a complete suit of sixteenth-century
armor; and so dry was the atmosphere of the apartment that
scarce a spot of rust appeared upon the polished surface, which
however, like every other object in the room, was overlaid with
fine dust. A bed, with embroidered coverlet and heavy silken
curtains, stood in a deep recess to the left of the cabinet. Upon
the table lay a number of papers and parchments, some tied up
in bundles, others lying about in disorder. One was spread open,
with a pen thrown down upon it, and an antique ink-horn stand-
ing near; and upon a stand beside the bed was a gold-enameled
snuff-box, with its lid up, and containing, doubtless, the dusty
remnant of some George II. rappee.
At all these things Archibald gazed in thoughtful silence.
This room had been left, at a moment's warning, generations
ago; since then this strange dry air had been breathed by no
human nostrils, these various objects had remained untouched
and motionless; nothing but time had dwelt in the chamber: and
yet what a change, subtle but mighty, had been wrought! Mere
stillness, mere absence of life, was an appalling thing, the boy
thought. And why had this secret been suffered to pass into
oblivion? and why had fate selected him to discover it? and now,
what use would he make of it? "At all events," said the boy to
himself, "it has become my secret, and shall remain mine; and
no fear but the occasion will come when I shall know what use
to make of it. " He felt that meanwhile it would give him power,
security, wealth also, if he should ever have occasion for it; and
with a curious sentiment of pride he saw himself thus mystically
designated as the true heir of Malmaison,- the only one of his
age and generation who had been permitted to stand on an
equality with those historic and legendary ancestors to whom the
## p. 7051 (#445) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7051
secret of this chamber had given the name and fame of wizards.
Henceforth Archibald was as much a wizard as they.
Or-might there after all be a power in necromancy that he
yet dreamed not of? Was it possible that even now those old
enchanters held their meetings here, and would question his right
to force his way among them?
As this thought passed through the boy's mind, he was mov-
ing slowly forward, his eyes glancing now here, now there, when
all at once the roots of his hair were stirred with an emotion
which, if not fear, was certainly far removed from tranquillity.
From the darkest corner of the room he had seen a human figure
silently and stealthily creeping toward him. Now, as he fixed his
eyes upon it, it stopped, and seemed to return his stare. His
senses did not deceive him: there it stood, distinctly outlined,
though its features were indistinguishable by reason of the shadow
that fell upon them. But what living thing-living with mortal
life at least could exist in a room that had been closed for
sixty years?
Now certainly this Archibald, who had not yet completed his
fourteenth year, possessed a valiant soul. That all his flesh
yearned for instant flight does not admit of a doubt; and had he
fled, this record would never have been written. Fly however he
would not, but would step forward rather, and be resolved what
manner of goblin confronted him. Forward therefore he stepped;
and behold! the goblin was but the reflection of himself in a tall
mirror, which the obscurity and his own agitation had prevented
him from discerning. The revulsion of feeling thus occasioned
was so strong that for a moment all strength forsook the boy's
knees; he stumbled and fell, and his forehead struck the corner
of the ebony cabinet. He was on his feet again in a moment,
but his forehead was bleeding, and he felt strangely giddy. The
candle too was getting near its end; it was time to bring this
first visit to a close. He took the candle from the sconce, passed
out through the door, traversed the tunnel, and thrust the silver
key into the keyhole. The stone door yielded before him; he
dropped what was left of the candle, and slipped through the
opening into broad daylight.
She can take my bit of lavender with her
―――――
-
Fifth Woman-But where is Mattern?
First Woman - Yes, where is Mattern?
Second Woman - Oh, he! he's sitting over there in the ale-
house.
First Woman Most like he doesn't know a word of what
has happened.
Second Woman-He cares for nothing so long as he has his
dram. He knows nothing about it.
Pleschke Haven't you - haven't you told him then - told
him that there's death-in his house?
—
――
Third Woman-He might know that without any telling.
Fourth Woman- I don't say anything, Heaven forbid! But
every one knows who has killed the girl.
Seidel-You're right there! The whole village, as you might
say, knows that. There's a lump on her as big as my fist.
Fifth Woman No grass grows where that fellow sets his feet.
Seidel-I was there when they changed her wet clothes, and
I saw it as plain as I see you. She has a lump on her as big
as my fist- and that's what has killed her.
First Woman-It's Mattern must answer for her, and no one
else.
## p. 7036 (#428) ###########################################
7036
GERHART HAUPTMANN
All [speaking all at once and vehemently, but in a whisper]-
No one else, no one else.
Second woman. He's a murderer, he is.
All [full of fury, but in a low tone]-A murderer, a mur-
derer!
[The harsh voice of the tipsy Mattern is heard:]
"A conscience from all trou-ble free,
What so-ofter pillow can there be ? »
[He appears in the doorway and shouts:]
are-
Hannele! Hannele! You brat! where are you hiding? [He
staggers in, leaning against the door-jamb. ] I'll count up to five,
and I'll wait not a moment longer. One, two- Three and one
I tell you, my girl, you'd better not make me wild. If I
have to search for you and find you, you hussy, I'll pound you
to a jelly, I will! [Starts as he notices the others who are present,
and who remain as still as death. ] What do you want here? [No
answer. ] How do you come here? Was it the Devil sent you,
eh? Just clear out of this, now! Well, are you going to stop all
night? [He laughs to himself. ] Wait a minute I know what
it is. It's nothing but that. I have a little too much in my
noddle That's what brings 'em. [He sings:]
"A con— science from all trou
་
What so
ouble free,
ofter pillow can there be? "
-
-
—
-
[Starts in fear. ] Are you still there? [In a sudden outburst
of fury, looking around for something to attack them with. ] I'll
take the first thing that comes handy-
A Man has entered, wearing a threadbare brown cloak. He is about
thirty, has long black hair, and a pale face with the features of the
schoolmaster Gottwald. He has a slouch hat in his left hand and
sandals on his feet. He appears weary and travel-stained. He
touches Mattern lightly on the arm, interrupting his speech. Mattern
turns sharply round. The stranger looks him straight in the face,
gravely and quietly, and says humbly:
Stranger-Mattern, God's greeting to you!
Mattern-How have you come here? What do you want?
Stranger [in a tone of humble entreaty]—I have walked till
my feet are bleeding; give me water to wash them. The hot
sun has parched me; give me wine to drink, and to refresh me.
## p. 7037 (#429) ###########################################
GERHART HAUPTMANN
7037
I have not broken bread since I set forth in the morning; I am
hungry.
――――――
Mattern What's that to me?
round here ? Go and work. I have to work too.
What brings you tramping
Stranger-I am a workman.
Mattern-You're a tramp, that's what you are. A workman
need not go about begging.
Stranger-I am a workman without wages.
Mattern-You're a tramp, you are.
Stranger [diffidently, submissively, but at the same time impress-
ively]-I am a physician. It may be that you have need of me.
Mattern - I'm all right; I don't need any doctor.
Stranger [his voice trembling with inward emotion]- Mattern,
bethink you! You need give me no water, and yet I will heal
You may give me no bread to eat, and yet, God helping
me, I will make you whole.
you.
Mattern-You get out of this! Go about your business. I
have sound bones in my body; I need no doctor: do you under-
stand?
Stranger - Mattern, bethink you! I will wash your feet for
you; I will give you wine to drink; you shall eat white bread;
tread me under foot, and yet, God helping me, I will make you
whole and sound.
Mattern-Now, will you go or will you not? If you won't
get out of this, I tell you I'll—
Stranger [in a tone of earnest admonition]- Mattern, do you
know what you have in your house?
Mattern - All that belongs there; all that belongs there; all
that belongs there: you don't belong there. Just get out, now!
Stranger [simply] - Your daughter is ill.
Mattern- Her illness doesn't need any doctor. It's nothing
but laziness, her illness isn't. I can knock that out of her with-
out your help.
Stranger [solemnly]- Mattern, I come as a messenger to you.
Mattern - As a messenger, eh? Who from?
Stranger-I come from the Father, and I go to the Father.
What have you done with his child?
Mattern- How am I to know what's become of her? What
have I to do with his children? He's never troubled about her,
he hasn't.
Stranger [firmly]- You have death in your house.
## p. 7038 (#430) ###########################################
7038
GERHART HAUPTMANN
Mattern [now notices Hannele lying there; goes in speechless
astonishment up to the coffin, and looks into it; then murmurs:]
Where have you got the beautiful clothes? Who has bought you
the crystal coffin?
[The mourners whisper to each other vehemently but softly. The word
"Murderer! " is heard again and again, uttered in a threatening
tone. ]
Mattern [softly, trembling] - I've never ill-used you; I've
clothed you; I've fed you. [Turning insolently upon the Stran-
ger. ] What do you want with me? What have I to do with all
this?
Stranger - Mattern, have you anything to say to me?
[The muttering among the mourners becomes ever more vehement and angry,
and the word "Murderer! " "Murderer! " becomes more frequently
audible. ]
Stranger - Have you nothing to reproach yourself with?
Have you never torn her from her bed by night? Has she
never fallen as though dead under your blows?
Mattern [beside himself with rage]-Strike me dead if she
here, on the spot! Heaven's lightning blast me if I've
has
been to blame!
[A flash of pale-blue lightning, and distant thunder. ]
-
All [speaking together] — There's a thunder-storm coming!
Right in the middle of winter! He's perjured himself! - The
child-murderer has perjured himself!
Stranger [impressively but kindly] — Have you still nothing to
say to me, Mattern?
Mattern [in pitiable terror]-Who loves his child chastens it.
I've done nothing but good to the girl. I've kept her as my
child. I've a right to punish her when she does wrong.
The Women [advancing threateningly towards him] — Murderer!
Murderer! Murderer!
Mattern-She's lied to me and cheated me. She has robbed
me day by day.
Stranger-Are you speaking the truth?
Mattern-God strike me.
-
[At this moment a cowslip, "the Key-of-Heaven," is seen in Hannele's
folded hands, emitting a yellow-green radiance. Mattern stares at it
as though out of his senses, trembling all over. ]
## p. 7039 (#431) ###########################################
GERHART HAUPTMANN
7039
Stranger-Mattern, you are lying!
All [in the greatest excitement]-A miracle! a miracle!
Pleschke- The girl-the girl-is a-a saint. He has he
has sworn away-body-body and soul.
――――――――――
Mattern [shrieks]—I'll go and hang myself! [Clasps his head
between his hands and rushes off. ]
Stranger [goes up to Hannele's coffin, and turns so as to face
the others, who all draw back reverently from the Figure which
now stands in full majesty, addressing them] — Fear nothing. [He
bends down and takes hold of Hannele's hand. He speaks with
the deepest tenderness. ] The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth.
[With intensity and assured power. ] Johanna Mattern, arise!
[A gold-green radiance fills the room.
Hannele opens her eyes, and raises
herself by aid of the Stranger's hand, but without daring to look in
his face. She steps out of the coffin, and at once sinks to the ground
at the feet of the Awakener. Terror seizes upon all the others, and
they flee. The Stranger and Hannele remain alone. The brown
mantle has slipped from his shoulders, and he stands in a golden-
white robe. ]
Stranger-Who am I?
Hannele - Thou!
Stranger - Name my name.
Hannele [whispers, trembling with awe]- Holy! holy!
Stranger-I know all thy sorrows and thy sufferings.
Stranger [tenderly]-Hannele!
Hannele [in an ecstasy, her head bowed as low as possible]—
He is there.
Hannele - Thou dear, dear—
Stranger-Arise.
Hannele-Thy robe is spotless.
I am full of stains.
Stranger [laying his right hand on Hannele's head] - Thus I
take away all baseness from thee. [Raising her face toward him
with gentle force, he touches her eyes. ] Behold, I bestow on thine
eyes eternal light. Let them be filled with the light of countless
suns; with the light of endless day, from morning-glow to
evening-glow, from evening-glow to morning-glow. Let them be
filled with the brightness of all that shines: blue sea, blue sky,
and the green plains of eternity. [He touches her ear. ] Behold,
I give to thine ear to hear all the rejoicing of all the millions of
angels in the million heavens of God. [He touches her lips. ]
## p. 7040 (#432) ###########################################
7040
GERHART HAUPTMANN
Behold, I set free thy stammering tongue, and lay upon it thy
soul, and my soul, and the soul of God in the highest.
[Hannele, her whole body trembling, attempts to rise. As though weighed
down by an infinite burden of rapture, she cannot do so. In a storm
of sobs and tears, she buries her head on the Stranger's breast. ]
Stranger With these tears I wash from thy soul all the dust
and anguish of the world. I will exalt thy feet above the stars
of God.
___
To soft music, and stroking Hannele's hair with his hand, the Stranger
speaks as follows. As he is speaking Angelic Forms appear in the
doorway, great and small, youths and maidens; they pause diffidently,
then venture in, swinging censers and decorating the chamber with
hangings and wreaths.
The City of the Blessèd is marvelously fair,
And peace and utter happiness are never-ending there.
[Harps, at first played softly, gradually ring out loud and clear. ]
The houses are of marble, the roofs of gold so fine,
And down their silver channels bubble brooks of ruby wine.
The streets that shine so white, so white, are all bestrewn with
flowers,
And endless peals of wedding bells ring out from all the towers.
The pinnacles, as green as May, gleam in the morning light,
Beset with flickering butterflies, with rose-wreaths decked and dight.
Twelve milk-white swans fly round them in mazy circles wide,
And preen themselves, and ruffle up their plumage in their pride.
They soar aloft so bravely through the shining heavenly air,
With fragrance all a-quiver and with golden trumpet-blare;
In circle-sweeps majestical forever they are winging,
And the pulsing of their pinions is like harp-strings softly ringing.
They look abroad o'er Sion, on garden and on sea,
And green and filmy streamers behind them flutter free.
And underneath them wander, throughout the heavenly land,
The people in their feast array, forever hand in hand;
And then into the wide, wide sea filled with the red, red wine,
Behold! they plunge their bodies with glory all a-shine -
They plunge their shining bodies into the gleaming sea,
Till in the deep clear purple they're swallowed utterly;
And when again they leap aloft rejoicing from the flood,
Their sins have all been washed away in Jesus's blessed blood.
## p. 7041 (#433) ###########################################
7041
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
(1846-)
M
R. HAWTHORNE is to be added to the group of men who enter
into active literary life with the handicap of being the sons
of authors of such high distinction that only a brave strug-
gle insures individuality. The only son of Nathaniel Hawthorne, he
was born in Boston in 1846, the same year that gave to the American
reading public Mosses from an Old Manse. ' His early boyhood was
passed in Liverpool during his father's consulate, but on the return
of the family to America after 1860, Julian became a pupil in the
famous school of Frank Sanborn in Concord.
He entered Harvard in 1863, where he was,
on the whole, more distinguished for athlet-
ics than for application to study. He took
a course in civil engineering both at Har-
vard and in Dresden, and even practiced
that congenial outdoor occupation and prac-
tical hydrographics for some years, until lit-
erature as a profession engrossed him.
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
His first successful story was 'Bressant'
(1872), the forerunner of a long list of
novels, of which may be particularized
three: Garth' (1875), 'Sebastian Strome,'
and 'Archibald Malmaison' (1884). Mr. Haw-
thorne made his home in London for about
seven years, actively engaged in literary work in connection with the
English and the American press. He returned to the United States
in 1882, but presently went across the ocean again with an idea of
remaining in England indefinitely; and of late years his homes have
been London, Long Island, and the island of Jamaica,-in which last
convenient West-Indian retreat he resided for several seasons prior
to 1896. His novel 'A Fool of Nature,' which won him in 1896 a
prize of $10,000 in a literary competition arranged by the New York
Herald (the contest enlisting eleven hundred other competitors), was
written in that West-Indian hermitage.
Mr. Hawthorne's best work suggests more than one element that
distinguishes his father's stories. There is the psychologic accent, the
touch of mystery, the avoidance of the stock properties of romance.
XII-441
## p. 7042 (#434) ###########################################
7042
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
He is an expert literary craftsman. One cannot but feel that with a
firmer grip on his own fancy, and with an early discipline in style
and in methods of treatment, his fictions would be of a finer individ-
uality. But they hold the interest, and they show an aim at reaching
beyond the scope of the ordinary novel of human character. Garth'
and 'Archibald Malmaison have been cited as perhaps his two most
successful novels. Into Garth' is woven the history of a New Eng-
land home and family line, with a kind of curse upon them inherited
from the shadowy past of Indian days; and the career of a curiously
fascinating young hero, a survival or reincarnation of "primeval
man," who declares that he feels "as though the earth were my body
and I saw through it and lived through it, just as I do my human
body; . . . and then I was as strong as the whole world and as
happy as heaven. " In 'Archibald Malmaison' we have a brief, gloomy
drama, turning on a central character whose mental personality every
few years inevitably and shockingly "reverts. " At seven years the
little boy goes back to his boyhood of two or three, forgetting every-
thing that has been in his mind and life since that term; in his early
teens he lapses to nearly his development at mere babyhood, with the
intervening time a blank. At last, a man grown, this weird fatality,
combined with his knowledge of a hidden room (known only to him-
self) in his home, and a mad love affair, bring about a terrible mis-
adventure, closing the story.
THE EAST WING: ARCHIBALD IS A CHANGELING
From Archibald Malmaison. Copyright 1884, by Funk & Wagnalls
THE
HE room itself was long, narrow, and comparatively low; the
latticed windows were sunk several feet into the massive
walls; lengths of brownish-green and yellow tapestry, none
the fresher for its two centuries and more of existence, still pro-
tested against the modern heresy of wall-paper; and in a panel
frame over the fireplace was seen the portrait, by Sir Godfrey
Kneller, of the Jacobite baronet. It was a half-length, in officer's
uniform: one hand holding the hilt of a sword against the breast,
while the forefinger of the other hand pointed diagonally down-
ward, as much as to say, "I vanished in that direction! "
The fireplace, it should be noted, was built on the side of the
room opposite to the windows; that is to say, in one of the partition
walls. And what was on the other side of this partition? Not the
large chamber opening into the corridor- that lay at right angles
## p. 7043 (#435) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7043
to the east chamber, along the southern front of the wing. Not
the corridor either, though it ran for some distance parallel to
the east chamber, and had a door on the east side. But this
door led into a great dark closet, as big as an ordinary room,
and used as a receptacle for rubbish. Was it the dark closet,
then, that adjoined the east chamber on the other side of the
partition? No, once more. Had a window been opened through
the closet wall, it would have looked, not into Archibald's room,
but into a narrow blind court or well, entirely inclosed between
four stone walls, and of no apparent use save as a somewhat
clumsy architectural expedient. There was no present way of
getting into this well, or even of looking into it, unless one had
been at the pains to mount on the roof of the house and peer
down. As a matter of fact, its existence was only made known by
the reports of an occasional workman engaged in renewing the
tiles, or mending a decayed chimney. An accurate survey of the
building would of course have revealed it at once; but nothing
of the kind had been thought of within the memory of man.
Such a survey would also have revealed what no one in the
least suspected, but which was nevertheless a fact of startling
significance; namely, that the blind court was at least fifteen
feet shorter and twenty-five feet narrower than it ought to have
been!
Archibald was as far from suspecting it as anybody; indeed, he
most likely never troubled his head about builders' plans in his
life. But he thought a great deal of his great-grandfather's por-
trait; and since it was so placed as to be in view of the most
comfortable chair before the fire, he spent many hours of every
week gazing at it. What was Sir Charles pointing at with that
left forefinger? And what meant that peculiarly intent and
slightly frowning glance which the painted eyes forever bent
upon his own? Archibald probably had a few of Mrs. Rad-
cliffe's romances along with the other valuable books on his
shelves, and he may have cherished a notion that a treasure or
an important secret of some sort was concealed in the vicinity.
Following down the direction of the pointing finger, he found
that it intersected the floor at a spot about five feet to the right
of the side of the fireplace. The floor of the chamber was of
solid oak planking, blackened by age; and it appeared to be
no less solid at this point than at any other. Nevertheless, he
thought it would be good fun, and at all events would do no
## p. 7044 (#436) ###########################################
7044
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
harm, to cut a hole there and see what was underneath. Ac-
cordingly he quietly procured a saw and a hammer and chisel,
and one day, when the family were away from home, he locked
himself into his room and went to work. The job was not an
easy one, the tough oak wood being almost enough to turn the
edge of his chisel, and there being no purchase at all for the
saw. After a quarter of an hour's chipping and hammering with
very little result, he paused to rest. The board at which he had
been working, and which met the wall at right angles, was very
short, not more than eighteen inches long, indeed; being inserted
merely to fill up the gap caused by a deficiency in length of the
plank of which it was the continuation. Between the two adjoin-
ing ends was a crack of some width, and into that crack did
Archibald idly stick his chisel. It seemed to him that the crack
widened, so that he was able to press the blade of the chisel
down to its thickest part. He now worked it eagerly backward
and forward, and to his delight, the crack rapidly widened still
further; in fact, the short board was sliding back underneath the
wainscot. A small oblong cavity was thus revealed, into which
the young discoverer glowered with beating heart and vast antici-
pations.
What he found could scarcely be said to do those anticipations
justice; it was neither a casket of precious stones, nor a docu-
ment establishing the family right of ownership of the whole
county of Sussex. It was nothing more than a tarnished rod of
silver, about nine inches in length, and twisted into an irregular
sort of corkscrew shape. One end terminated in a broad flat
button; the other in a blunted point. There was nothing else in
the hole-nothing to show what the rod was meant for, or why
it was so ingeniously hidden there. And yet, reflected Archibald,
could it have been so hidden, and its place of concealment so
mysteriously indicated, without any ulterior purpose whatever?
It was incredible! Why, the whole portrait was evidently painted
with no other object than that of indicating the rod's where-
abouts. Either, then, there was or had been something else in
the cavity in addition to the rod, or the rod was intended to
be used in some way still unexplained. So much was beyond
question.
Thus cogitated Archibald; that is to say, thus he might
have cogitated, for there is no direct evidence of what passed
through his mind. And in the first place, he made an exhaustive
## p. 7045 (#437) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7045
examination of the cavity, and convinced himself not only that
there was nothing else except dust to be got out of it, but also
that it opened into no other cavity which might prove more fruit-
ful. His next step was to study the silver rod, in the hope that
scrutiny or inspiration might suggest to him what it was good
for. His pains were rewarded by finding on the flat head the
nearly obliterated figures 3 and 5, inscribed one above the other
in the manner of a vulgar fraction,- thus, ; and by the convic-
tion that the spiral conformation of the rod was not the result
of accident, as he had at first supposed, but had been communi-
cated to it intentionally, for some purpose unknown. These con-
clusions naturally stimulated his curiosity more than ever, but
nothing came of it. The boy was a clever boy, but he was not
a detective trained in this species of research, and the problem
was beyond his ingenuity. He made every application of the
figures 3 and 5 that imagination could suggest; he took them in
feet, in inches, in yards; he added them together, and he sub-
tracted one from the other: all in vain. The only thing he did
not do was to take any one else into his confidence; he said not
a word about the affair even to Kate, being resolved that if
there were a mystery it should be revealed, at least in the first
instance, to no one else besides himself. At length, after sev-
eral days spent in fruitless experiments and loss of temper, he
returned the rod to its hiding-place, with the determination to
give himself a rest for a while and see what time and accident
would do for him. This plan, though undoubtedly prudent,
seemed likely to effect no more than the others; and over a year
passed away without the rod's being again disturbed. By degrees
his thoughts ceased to dwell so persistently upon the unsolved
puzzle, and other interests took possession of his mind. The
tragedy of his aunt's death, his love for Kate, his studies, his
prospects a hundred things gave him occupation, until the sil-
ver rod was half forgotten.
In the latter part of 1813, however, he accidentally made a
rather remarkable discovery.
He had for the first time been out hunting with his father
and the neighboring country gentlemen in the autumn of this
year, and it appears that on two occasions he had the brush
awarded to him. At his request the heads of the two foxes were
mounted for him, and he proposed to put them up on either side
his fireplace.
## p. 7046 (#438) ###########################################
7046
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
The wall, above and for a few inches to the right and left
of the mantelpiece, was bare of tapestry; the first-named place
being occupied by the portrait, while the sides were four feet up
the oaken wainscot which surrounded the whole room behind the
tapestry, and from thence to the ceiling, plaster. The mantel-
piece and fireplace were of a dark slaty stone and of brick,
respectively.
Archibald fixed upon what he considered the most effective
positions for his heads—just above the level of the wainscot, and
near enough to the mantelpiece not to be interfered with by the
tapestry. He nailed up one of them on the left-hand side, the
nails penetrating with just sufficient resistance in the firm plaster;
and then, measuring carefully to the corresponding point on the
right-hand side, he proceeded to affix the other head there. But
the nail on this occasion could not be made to go in; and on his
attempting to force it with a heavier stroke of the hammer, it
bent beneath the blow and the hammer came sharply into con-
tact with the white surface of the wall, producing a clinking
sound as from an impact on metal.
A brief investigation now revealed the fact that a circular
disk of iron, about three inches in diameter, and painted white to
match the plaster, was here let into the wall. What could be
the object of it? With a fresh nail the boy began to scratch off
the paint from the surface of the disk, in order to determine
whether it were actually iron, or some other metal; in so doing
a small movable lid like the screen of a keyhole was pushed
aside, disclosing a little round aperture underneath. Archibald
pushed the nail into it, thereby informing himself that the hole
went straight into the wall, for a distance greater than the length
of the nail; but how much greater, and what was at the end of
it, he could only conjecture.
We must imagine him now standing upon a chair with the
nail in his hand, casting about in his mind for some means of
probing this mysterious and unexpected hole to the bottom. At
this juncture he happens to glance upward, and meets the intent
regard of his pictured ancestor, who seems to have been silently
watching him all this time, and only to be prevented by unavoid-
able circumstances from speaking out and telling him what to do
next. And there is that constant forefinger pointing-at what?
At the cavity in the floor, of course, but not at that alone; for if
you observe, this same new-found hole in the wall is a third point
## p. 7047 (#439) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7047
in the straight line between the end of the forefinger and the
hiding-place of the silver rod; furthermore, the hole is, as nearly
as can be estimated without actual measurement, three feet dis-
tant from the forefinger and five feet from the rod: the problem
of three above and five below has solved itself in the twinkling
of an eye, and it only remains to act accordingly!
Archibald sprang to the floor in no small excitement; but
the first thing that he did was to see that both his doors were
securely fastened. Then he advanced upon the mystery with
heightened color and beating heart, his imagination reveling in
the wildest forecasts of what might be in store; and anon turn-
ing him cold with sickening apprehension lest it should prove to
be nothing after all! But no: something there must be, some
buried secret, now to live once more for him, and for him only;
the secret whereof dim legends had come down through the
obscurity of two hundred years; the secret too of old Sir Charles
in the frame yonder, the man of magic repute. What could it
be? Some talisman, some volume of the Black Art, perhaps,
which would enable him to vanish at will into thin air, and to
travel with the speed of a wish from place to place; to become a
veritable enchanter, endowed with all supernatural powers. With
hands slightly tremulous from eagerness he pushed back the bit
of plank and drew forth the silver rod; then mounted on the
chair and applied it to the hole, which it fitted accurately. Be-
fore pushing it home he paused a moment.
In all the stories he had read, the possessors of magic secrets
had acquired the same only in exchange for something supposed
to be equally valuable; namely, their own souls. It was not to
be expected that Archibald would be able to modify the terms of
the bargain in his own case: was he then prepared to pay the
price? Every human being, probably, is called upon to give a
more or less direct answer to this question at some epoch of their
lives; and were it not for curiosity and skepticism, and an unwill-
ingness to profit by the experience of others, very likely that
answer might be more often favorable to virtue than it actually
is. Archibald did not hesitate long. Whether he decided to dis-
believe in any danger; whether he resolved to brave it whatever
it might be; or whether, having got thus far, he had not suf-
ficient control over his inclinations to resist going further,— at
all events he drew in his breath, set his boyish lips, and drove
the silver rod into the aperture with right good will.
## p. 7048 (#440) ###########################################
7046
JUI
The wall, above and
of the mantelpiece, was
being occupied by the
the oaken wainscot wh
tapestry, and from the
piece and fireplace w
respectively.
Archibald fixed 1
positions for his head
near enough to the
tapestry. He naile
nails penetrating w
and then, measur
right-hand side, 1:
the nail on this
attempting to f
bent beneath t
tact with the
sound as from
A brief i
disk of iron,
match the
the object
the paint
whether i
a small
aside, d
pushed
went s
of the
it, he
TT
nail
prob
this
rega
wa
ab
ת
(
(
## p. 7049 (#441) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7049.
==!
Cl
20
of an
the
secture"
herginter
the W.
ing
be
232
ba
walking ten paces, he came face-up against a wall lying
angles to the direction in which he had been moving.
cautiously round the corner, he saw at the end of a
embrasure a ponderous door of dark wood braced with
anding partly open with a key in the keyhole, as if some
d just come out, and in his haste had forgotten to shut
ck the door behind him. Archibald now slowly opened it
Tull extent; it creaked as it moved, and the draught of air
his candle flicker, and caused strange shadows to dance
moment in the unexplored void beyond. In another breath
bald had crossed the threshold and arrived at the goal of his
image.
t first he could see very little; but there could be no doubt
he was in a room which seemed to be of large extent, and
he existence of which he could by no means account. The
er, who has been better informed, will already have assigned
s true p
inexplained region mentioned some pages
k, betwe
burt and the east chamber. Groping
Archibald presently discerned a bur-
the wall, in which having placed his
ted over the room, so that the objects
Srth. It was a room of fair extent and
he
TA
ong the interior of the wall toward the left, was
et in height by two and a half in width. Archibald
n it quite easily.
The first place he scrutinized the mechanism of the re-
intelpiece. It was an extremely ingenious and yet
ce, and so accurately fitted in all its parts that after
ars, they still worked together almost as smoothly as.
After Archibald had poured a little of his gun-oil into
of the hinges, and along the grooves, he found that
stone structure would open and close as noiselessly and
is own jaws. It could be opened from the inside by
Silver rod in a hole corresponding to that on the out-
having practiced this opening and shutting until he was
hat he was thoroughly master of the process, he put the
pocket, pulled the jamb gently together behind him,
e in hand set forth along the tunnel.
way ca
1
as apparently furnished in a style of
ficence, such as no other apartment in
The arched ceiling was supported by
## p. 7049 (#442) ###########################################
7048
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
It turned slowly as it entered, the curve of its spiral evi-
dently following the corresponding windings of the hole. Inward
it twisted like a snake, until only some two inches still projected.
As the searcher after forbidden mysteries continued to press, some-
thing seemed to give way within; and at the same instant an odd
shuffling sound caused him to glance sharply over his left shoul-
der.
What was the matter with the mantelpiece? The whole of
the right jamb seemed to have started forward nearly a foot,
while the left jamb had retired by a corresponding distance into
the wall; the hearth, with the fire burning upon it, remained
meanwhile undisturbed. At first Archibald imagined that the
mantelpiece was going to fall, perhaps bringing down the whole.
partition with it; but when he had got over the first shock of sur-
prise sufficiently to make an examination, he found that the entire
structure of massive gray stone was swung upon a concealed
pivot, round which it turned independently of the brickwork of
the fireplace. The silver rod had released the spring by which
the mechanism was held in check, and an unsuspected doorway
was thus revealed, opening into the very substance of the appar-
ently solid wall. On getting down from his chair, he had no
difficulty in pulling forward the jamb far enough to satisfy him-
self that there was a cavity of unknown extent behind. And
from out of this cavity breathed a strange dry air, like the sigh
of a mummy.
As for the darkness in there, it was almost sub-
stantial, as of the central chamber in the great Pyramid.
Archibald may well have had some misgivings, for he was
only a boy, and this happened more than sixty years ago, when
ghosts and goblins had not come to be considered such inde-
fensible humbugs as they are now. Nevertheless, he was of a
singularly intrepid temperament, and besides, he had passed the
turning-point in this adventure a few minutes ago. Nothing,
therefore, would have turned him back now. Come what might
of it, he would see this business to an end.
It was however impossible to see anything without a light; it
would be necessary to fetch one of the rush candles from the
table in the corridor. It was a matter of half a minute for
the boy to go and return; then he edged himself through the
opening, and was standing in a kind of vaulted tunnel directly
behind the fireplace, the warmth of which he could feel when he
laid his hand on the bricks on that side.
that side. The tunnel, which
## p. 7049 (#443) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7049.
extended along the interior of the wall toward the left, was
about six feet in height by two and a half in width.
could walk in it quite easily.
Archibald
But in the first place he scrutinized the mechanism of the re-
volving mantelpiece. It was an extremely ingenious and yet
simple device, and so accurately fitted in all its parts that after
so many years, they still worked together almost as smoothly as
when new. After Archibald had poured a little of his gun-oil into
the joints of the hinges, and along the grooves, he found that
the heavy stone structure would open and close as noiselessly and
easily as his own jaws. It could be opened from the inside by
using the silver rod in a hole corresponding to that on the out-
side: and having practiced this opening and shutting until he was
satisfied that he was thoroughly master of the process, he put the
rod in his pocket, pulled the jamb gently together behind him,
and candle in hand set forth along the tunnel.
After walking ten paces, he came face-up against a wall lying
at right angles to the direction in which he had been moving.
Peering cautiously round the corner, he saw at the end of a
shallow embrasure a ponderous door of dark wood braced with
iron, standing partly open with a key in the keyhole, as if some
one had just come out, and in his haste had forgotten to shut
and lock the door behind him. Archibald now slowly opened it
to its full extent; it creaked as it moved, and the draught of air
made his candle flicker, and caused strange shadows to dance
for a moment in the unexplored void beyond. In another breath.
Archibald had crossed the threshold and arrived at the goal of his
pilgrimage.
At first he could see very little; but there could be no doubt
that he was in a room which seemed to be of large extent, and
for the existence of which he could by no means account. The
reader, who has been better informed, will already have assigned
it its true place in that unexplained region mentioned some pages.
back, between the blind court and the east chamber. Groping
his way cautiously about, Archibald presently discerned a bur-
nished sconce affixed to the wall, in which having placed his
candle, the light was reflected over the room, so that the objects
it contained stood dimly forth. It was a room of fair extent and
considerable height, and was apparently furnished in a style of
quaint and sombre magnificence, such as no other apartment in
Malmaison could show. The arched ceiling was supported by
## p. 7050 (#444) ###########################################
7050
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
vast oaken beams; the floor was inlaid with polished marbles.
The walls, instead of being hung with tapestry, were painted in
distemper with life-size figure subjects, representing, as far as the
boy could make out, some weird incantation scene. At one end
of the room stood a heavy cabinet, the shelves of which were
piled with gold and silver plate, richly chased, and evidently of
great value. Here in fact seemed to have been deposited many
of the precious heirlooms of the family, which had disappeared
during the Jacobite rebellions, and were supposed to have been
lost. The cabinet was made of ebony inlaid with ivory, as was
also a broad round table in the centre of the room. In a niche
opposite the cabinet gleamed a complete suit of sixteenth-century
armor; and so dry was the atmosphere of the apartment that
scarce a spot of rust appeared upon the polished surface, which
however, like every other object in the room, was overlaid with
fine dust. A bed, with embroidered coverlet and heavy silken
curtains, stood in a deep recess to the left of the cabinet. Upon
the table lay a number of papers and parchments, some tied up
in bundles, others lying about in disorder. One was spread open,
with a pen thrown down upon it, and an antique ink-horn stand-
ing near; and upon a stand beside the bed was a gold-enameled
snuff-box, with its lid up, and containing, doubtless, the dusty
remnant of some George II. rappee.
At all these things Archibald gazed in thoughtful silence.
This room had been left, at a moment's warning, generations
ago; since then this strange dry air had been breathed by no
human nostrils, these various objects had remained untouched
and motionless; nothing but time had dwelt in the chamber: and
yet what a change, subtle but mighty, had been wrought! Mere
stillness, mere absence of life, was an appalling thing, the boy
thought. And why had this secret been suffered to pass into
oblivion? and why had fate selected him to discover it? and now,
what use would he make of it? "At all events," said the boy to
himself, "it has become my secret, and shall remain mine; and
no fear but the occasion will come when I shall know what use
to make of it. " He felt that meanwhile it would give him power,
security, wealth also, if he should ever have occasion for it; and
with a curious sentiment of pride he saw himself thus mystically
designated as the true heir of Malmaison,- the only one of his
age and generation who had been permitted to stand on an
equality with those historic and legendary ancestors to whom the
## p. 7051 (#445) ###########################################
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
7051
secret of this chamber had given the name and fame of wizards.
Henceforth Archibald was as much a wizard as they.
Or-might there after all be a power in necromancy that he
yet dreamed not of? Was it possible that even now those old
enchanters held their meetings here, and would question his right
to force his way among them?
As this thought passed through the boy's mind, he was mov-
ing slowly forward, his eyes glancing now here, now there, when
all at once the roots of his hair were stirred with an emotion
which, if not fear, was certainly far removed from tranquillity.
From the darkest corner of the room he had seen a human figure
silently and stealthily creeping toward him. Now, as he fixed his
eyes upon it, it stopped, and seemed to return his stare. His
senses did not deceive him: there it stood, distinctly outlined,
though its features were indistinguishable by reason of the shadow
that fell upon them. But what living thing-living with mortal
life at least could exist in a room that had been closed for
sixty years?
Now certainly this Archibald, who had not yet completed his
fourteenth year, possessed a valiant soul. That all his flesh
yearned for instant flight does not admit of a doubt; and had he
fled, this record would never have been written. Fly however he
would not, but would step forward rather, and be resolved what
manner of goblin confronted him. Forward therefore he stepped;
and behold! the goblin was but the reflection of himself in a tall
mirror, which the obscurity and his own agitation had prevented
him from discerning. The revulsion of feeling thus occasioned
was so strong that for a moment all strength forsook the boy's
knees; he stumbled and fell, and his forehead struck the corner
of the ebony cabinet. He was on his feet again in a moment,
but his forehead was bleeding, and he felt strangely giddy. The
candle too was getting near its end; it was time to bring this
first visit to a close. He took the candle from the sconce, passed
out through the door, traversed the tunnel, and thrust the silver
key into the keyhole. The stone door yielded before him; he
dropped what was left of the candle, and slipped through the
opening into broad daylight.
