 | THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE MYSTERIOUS PICTURE. Tales of a traveller |  |
THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE MYSTERIOUS PICTURE.
As one story of the kind produces another, and
as all the company seemed fully engrossed by
the topic, and disposed to bring their relatives
and ancestors upon the scene, there is no knowing
how many more ghost adventures we might
have heard, had not a corpulent old fox-hunter,
who had slept soundly through the whole, now
suddenly awakened, with a loud and long-drawn
yawn. The sound broke the charm; the ghosts
took to flight as though it had been cock-crowing,
and there was a universal move for bed.
“And now for the haunted chamber,” said the
Irish captain, taking his candle.
“Aye, who's to be the hero of the night?”
said the gentleman with the ruined head.
“That we shall see in the morning,” said the
pale and grizzly will have seen the ghost.
“Well, gentlemen,” said the Baronet, “there's
many a true thing said in jest. In fact, one of
you will sleep in a room to-night”—
“What—a haunted room? a haunted room?
I claim the adventure—and I—and I—and I,”
cried a dozen guests, talking and laughing at the
same time.
“No—no,” said mine host, “there is a
secret about one of my rooms on which I feel
disposed to try an experiment. So gentlemen
none of you shall know who has the haunted
chamber, until circumstances reveal it. I will
not even know it myself, but will leave it to
chance and the allotment of the housekeeper.
At the same time, if it will be any satisfaction to
you, I will observe, for the honour of my paternal
mansion, that there's scarcely a chamber in
it but is well worthy of being haunted.”
We now separated for the night, and each went
to his allotted room. Mine was in one wing of
the building, and I could not but smile at its resemblance
described in the tales of the supper table. It was
spacious and gloomy, decorated with lamp black
portraits, a bed of ancient damask, with a tester
sufficiently lofty to grace a couch of state, and a
number of massive pieces of old-fashioned furniture.
I drew a great claw-footed arm chair before
the wide fire place; stirred up the fire; sat
looking into it, and musing upon the odd stories
I had heard; until, partly overcome by the fatigue
of the day's hunting, and partly by the wine
and wassail of mine host, I fell asleep in my
chair.
The uneasiness of my position made my slumber
troubled, and laid me at the mercy of all
kinds of wild and fearful dreams; now it was
that my perfidious dinner and supper rose in rebellion
against my peace. I was hag-ridden by
a fat saddle of mutton; a plum pudding weighed
like lead upon my conscience; the merry thought
of a capon filled me with horrible suggestions;
and a devilled leg of a turkey stalked in all
kinds of diabolical shapes through my imagination.
Some strange indefinite evil seemed hanging
over me that I could not avert; something
terrible and loathsome oppressed me that I could
not shake off. I was conscious of being asleep,
and strove to rouse myself, but every effort
redoubled the evil; until gasping, struggling,
almost strangling, I suddenly sprang bolt upright
in my chair, and awoke.
The light on the mantel piece had burnt low,
and the wick was divided; there was a great
winding sheet made by the dripping wax, on the
side towards me. The disordered taper emitted
a broad flaring flame, and threw a strong light on
a painting over the fire place, which I had not
hitherto observed.
It consisted merely of a head, or rather a face,
that appeared to be staring full upon me, and
with an expression that was startling. It was
without a frame, and at the first glance I could
hardly persuade myself that it was not a real
face, thrusting itself out of the dark oaken pannel.
I sat in my chair gazing at it, and the more
before been affected in the same way by any
painting. The emotions it caused were strange
and indefinite. They were something like what
I have heard ascribed to the eyes of the basilisk; or
like that mysterious influence in reptiles termed
fascination. I passed my hand over my eyes
several times, as if seeking instinctively to brush
away this allusion—in vain—they instantly reverted
to the picture, and its chilling, creeping
influence over my flesh was redoubled.
I looked round the room on other pictures,
either to divert my attention, or to see whether
the same effect would be produced by them.
Some of them were grim enough to produce the
effect, if the mere grimness of the painting produced
it—no such thing. My eye passed over
them all with perfect indifference, but the moment
it reverted to this visage over the fire place,
it was as if an electric shock darted through me.
The other pictures were dim and faded; but this
one protruded from a plain black ground in the
strongest relief, and with wonderful truth of colouring.
the agony of intense bodily pain; but a menace
scowled upon the brow, and a few sprinklings
of blood added to its ghastliness. Yet it was not
all these characteristics—it was some horror of
the mind, some inscrutable antipathy awakened
by this picture, which harrowed up my feelings.
I tried to persuade myself that this was chimerical;
that my brain was confused by the
fumes of mine host's good cheer, and, in some
measure, by the odd stories about paintings which
had been told at supper. I determined to shake
off these vapours of the mind; rose from my
chair, and walked about the room; snapped my
fingers; rallied myself; laughed aloud. It was
a forced laugh, and the echo of it in the old chamber
jarred upon my ear. I walked to the window;
tried to discern the landscape through the
glass. It was pitch darkness, and howling storm
without; and as I heard the wind moan among
the trees, I caught a reflection of this accursed
visage in the pane of glass, as though it were
reflection of it was thrilling.
How was this vile nervous fit, for such I now
persuaded myself it was, to be conquered? I
determined to force myself not to look at the
painting, but to undress quickly and get into
bed. I began to undress, but in spite of every
effort I could not keep myself from stealing a
glance every now and then at the picture; and
a glance was now sufficient to distress me.
Even when my back was turned to it, the idea
of this strange face behind me, peering over my
shoulder, was insufferable. I threw off my
clothes and hurried into bed; but still this visage
gazed upon me. I had a full view of it
from my bed, and for some time could not take
my eyes from it. I had grown nervous to a dismal
degree.
I put out the light, and tried to force myself
to sleep;—all in vain! The fire gleaming up a
little, threw an uncertain light about the room,
leaving, however, the region of the picture in
deep shadow. What, thought I, if this be the
a mystery reigning over it?—I had taken his
words merely as spoken in jest; might they have
a real import? I looked around. The faintly
lighted apartment had all the qualifications requisite
for a haunted chamber. It began in my
infected imagination to assume strange appearances.
The old portraits turned paler and paler,
and blacker and blacker; the streaks of light and
shadow thrown among the quaint old articles of
furniture, gave them singular shapes and characters.
There was a huge dark clothes press of
antique form, gorgeous in brass and lustrous with
wax, that began to grow oppressive to me.
Am I then, thought I, indeed, the hero of the
haunted room? Is there really a spell laid upon
me, or is this all some contrivance of mine host,
to raise a laugh at my expense? The idea of
being hag-ridden by my own fancy all night, and
then bantered on my haggard looks the next day
was intolerable; but the very idea was sufficient
to produce the effect, and to render me still more
nervous. Pish, said I, it can be no such thing.
any man would be so worried by a mere picture?
It is my own diseased imagination that torments
me. I turned in my bed, and shifted from side
to side, to try to fall asleep; but all in vain.
When one cannot get asleep by lying quiet, it is
seldom that tossing about will effect the purpose.
The fire gradually went out and left the room in
darkness. Still I had the idea of this inexplicable
countenance gazing and keeping watch
upon me through the darkness. Nay, what was
worse, the very darkness seemed to give it additional
power, and to multiply its terrors. It was
like having an unseen enemy hovering about one
in the night. Instead of having one picture now
to worry me, I had a hundred. I fancied it in
every direction. And there it is, thought I,—and
there, and there,—with its horrible and mysterious
expression, still gazing and gazing on me. No—
if I must suffer this strange and dismal influence,
it were better face a single foe, than thus be
haunted by a thousand images of it.
Whoever has been in such a state of nervous
the more uncontroulable it grows; the very air
of the chamber seemed at length infected by the
baleful presence of this picture. I fancied it hovering
over me. I almost felt the fearful visage
from the wall approaching my face,—it seemed
breathing upon me. This is not to be borne, said
I, at length, springing out of bed. I can stand
this no longer. I shall only tumble and toss
about here all night; make a very spectre of myself,
and become the hero of the haunted chamber
in good earnest. Whatever be the consequence,
I'll quit this cursed room, and seek a
night's rest elsewhere. They can but laugh at
me at all events, and they'll be sure to have the
laugh upon me if I pass a sleepless night and
show them a haggard and wo-begone visage in
the morning.
All this was half muttered to myself, as I hastily
slipped on my clothes; which having done,
I groped my way out of the room, and down stairs
to the drawing room. Here, after tumbling over
two or three pieces of furniture, I made out to
to bivonack there for the night.
The moment I found myself out of the neighbourhood
of that strange picture, it seemed as if
the charm were broken. All its influence was at
an end. I felt assured that it was confined to its
own dreary chamber, for I had, with a sort of
instinctive caution, turned the key when I closed
the door. I soon calmed down, therefore, into
a state of tranquillity; from that into a drowsiness,
and finally into a deep sleep; out of which
I did not awake, until the housemaid, with her
besom and her matin song, came to put the room
in order. She stared at finding me stretched
upon the sofa; but I presume circumstances of
the kind were not uncommon after hunting dinners,
in her master's bachelor establishment; for
she went on with her song and her work, and took
no farther heed of me.
I had an unconquerable repugnance to return
to my chamber; so I found my way to the butler's
quarters, made my toilette in the best way
circumstances would permit, and was among the
was a substantial fox-hunter's repast, and the
company were generally assembled at it. When
ample justice had been done to the tea, coffee,
cold meats, and humming ale, for all these were
furnished in abundance, according to the tastes
of the different guests, the conversation began to
break out, with all the liveliness and freshness of
morning mirth.
“But who is the hero of the haunted chamber?—Who
has seen the ghost last night?” said
the inquisitive gentleman, rolling his lobster eyes
about the table.
The question set every tongue in motion; a
vast deal of bantering; criticizing of countenances;
of mutual accusation and retort took place.
Some had drunk deep, and some were unshaven,
so that there were suspicious faces enough in the
assembly. I alone could not enter with ease and
vivacity into the joke. I felt tongue-tied—embarrassed.
A recollection of what I had seen and
felt the preceding night still haunted my mind.
It seemed as if the mysterious picture still held a
eye was turned on me with an air of curiosity.
In short, I was conscious that I was the hero of
the night, and felt as if every one might read it in
my looks.
The jokes, however, passed over, and no suspicion
seemed to attach to me. I was just congratulating
myself on my escape, when a servant
came in, saying, that the gentleman who had slept
on the sofa in the drawing room, had left his
watch under one of the pillows. My repeater
was in his hand.
“What!” said the inquisitive gentleman, “did
any gentleman sleep on the sofa?”
“Soho! soho! a hare—a hare!” cried the old
gentleman with the flexible nose.
I could not avoid acknowledging the watch,
and was rising in great confusion, when a boisterous
old squire who sat beside me, exclaimed,
slapping me on the shoulder, “'Sblood, lad!
thou'rt the man as has seen the ghost!”
The attention of the company was immediately
turned to me; if my face had been pale the
I tried to laugh, but could only make a
grimace; and found all the muscles of my face
twitching at sixes and sevens, and totally out of
all controul.
It takes but little to raise a laugh among a set
of fox-hunters. There was a world of merriment
and joking at my expense; and as I never
relished a joke overmuch when it was at my
own expense, I began to feel a little nettled. I
tried to look cool and calm and to restrain my
pique; but the coolness and calmness of a man
in a passion are confounded treacherous.
Gentlemen, said I, with a slight cocking of the
chin, and a bad attempt at a smile, this is all very
pleasant—ha!ha!—very pleasant—but I'd have
you know I am as little superstitious as any of you
—ha! ha!—and as to any thing like timidity
—you may smile gentlemen—but I trust there
is no one here means to insinuate that.—
As to a room's being haunted, I repeat,
gentlemen—(growing a little warm at seeing
a cursed grin breaking out round me)—as
to a room's being haunted, I have as little
you put the matter home to me, I will say that I
have met with something in my room strange and
inexplicable to me—(a shout of laughter.) Gentlemen,
I am serious—I know well what I am
saying—I am calm, gentlemen, (striking my
fist upon the table)—by heaven I am calm. I
am neither trifling, nor do I wish to be trifled with
—(the laughter of the company suppressed with
ludicrous attempts at gravity.) There is a picture
in the room in which I was put last night,
that has had an effect upon me the most singular
and incomprehensible.
“A picture!” said the old gentleman with
the haunted head. “A picture!” cried the narrator
with the waggish nose. “A picture! a
picture!” echoed several voices. Here there
was an ungovernable peal of laughter.
I could not contain myself. I started up from
my seat—looked round on the company with
fiery indignation—thrust both my hands into my
pockets, and strode up to one of the windows,
as though I would have walked through it. I
without distinguishing a feature of it; and felt
my gorge rising almost to suffocation.
Mine host saw it was time to interfere. He
had maintained an air of gravity through the whole
of the scene, and now stepped forth as if to shelter
me from the overwhelming merriment of my
companions.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I dislike to spoil
sport, but you have had your laugh, and the joke
of the haunted chamber has been enjoyed. I
must now take the part of my guest. I must
not only vindicate him from your pleasantries,
but I must reconcile him to himself, for I suspect
he is a little out of humour with his own
feelings; and above all, I must crave his pardon
for having made him the subject of a kind of experiment.
“Yes, gentlemen, there is something strange
and peculiar in the chamber to which our friend
was shown last night. There is a picture which
possesses a singular and mysterious influence;
and with which there is connected a very curious
value from a variety of circumstances; and
though I have often been tempted to destroy it,
from the odd and uncomfortable sensations it
produces in every one that beholds it; yet I have
never been able to prevail upon myself to make
the sacrifice. It is a picture I never like to look
upon myself; and which is held in awe by all
my servants. I have therefore banished it to a
room but rarely used; and should have had it
covered last night, had not the nature of our conversation,
and the whimsical talk about a haunted
chamber tempted me to let it remain, by way
of experiment, whether a stranger, totally unacquainted
with its story, would be affected by
it.”
The words of the Baronet had turned every
thought into a different channel; all were anxious
to hear the story of the mysterious picture;
and for myself, so strongly were my feelings interested,
that I forgot to feel piqued at the experiment
which my host had made upon my nerves,
and joined eagerly in the general entreaty.
As the morning was stormy, and precluded
all egress, my host was glad of any means of entertaining
his company; so drawing his arm
chair beside the fire, he began—
| THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE MYSTERIOUS PICTURE. Tales of a traveller | |