classic mystery and detective stories- 第37部分

has　remained　so　deep　in　oblivion；　appears　immediately　on　a　glance

at　the　original。　　The　author；　Charles　Robert　Maturin；　a　needy；

eccentric　Irish　clergyman　of　1780…1824；　could　cause　intense

suspense　and　horrorcould　read　keenly　into　human　motivescould

teach　an　awful　moral　lesson　in　the　guise　of　fascinating　fiction；

but　he　could　not　stick　to　a　long　story　with　simplicity。　　His　dozens

of　shifting　scenes；　his　fantastic　coils　of　〃tales　within　tales〃

sadly　perplex　the　reader　of　〃Melmoth〃　in　the　first　version。　　It　is

hoped；　however；　that　the　present　selection；　by　its　directness　and

the　clearness　of　the　story　thread；　may　please　the　modern　reader

better　than　the　involved　original；　and　bring　before　a　wider　public

some　of　the　most　gripping　descriptions　ever　penned　in　English。



In　Volume　IV　of　these　stories　comes　a　tale；　〃Melmoth　Reconciled；〃

which　Balzac　himself　wrote；　while　under　the　spell　of　Maturin's

〃great　allegorical　figure。〃　　Here　the　unhappy　being　succeeds　in　his

purpose。　　The　story　takes　place　in　mocking；　careless　Paris；　〃that

branch　establishment　of　hell〃；　a　cashier；　on　the　eve　of

embezzlement　and　detection；　cynically　accedes　to　Melmoth's　terms；

and　accepts　his　helpwith　what　unlooked…for　results；　the　reader

may　see。







Charles　Robert　Maturin





Melmoth　the　Wanderer





John　Melmoth；　student　at　Trinity　College；　Dublin；　having　journeyed

to　County　Wicklow　for　attendance　at　the　deathbed　of　his　miserly

uncle；　finds　the　old　man；　even　in　his　last　moments；　tortured　by

avarice；　and　by　suspicion　of　all　around　him。　　He　whispers　to　John：





〃I　want　a　glass　of　wine；　it　would　keep　me　alive　for　some　hours；　but

there　is　not　one　I　can　trust　to　get　it　for　me；they'd　steal　a

bottle；　and　ruin　me。〃　　John　was　greatly　shocked。　　〃Sir；　for　God's

sake；　let　ME　get　a　glass　of　wine　for　you。〃　　〃Do　you　know　where？〃

said　the　old　man；　with　an　expression　in　his　face　John　could　not

understand。　　〃No；　Sir；　you　know　I　have　been　rather　a　stranger　here；

Sir。〃　　〃Take　this　key；〃　said　old　Melmoth；　after　a　violent　spasm；

〃take　this　key；　there　is　wine　in　that　closet；Madeira。　　I　always

told　them　there　was　nothing　there；　but　they　did　not　believe　me；　or

I　should　not　have　been　robbed　as　I　have　been。　　At　one　time　I　said

it　was　whisky；　and　then　I　fared　worse　than　ever；　for　they　drank

twice　as　much　of　it。〃



John　took　the　key　from　his　uncle's　hand；　the　dying　man　pressed　it

as　he　did　so；　and　John；　interpreting　this　as　a　mark　of　kindness；

returned　the　pressure。　　He　was　undeceived　by　the　whisper　that

followed；〃John；　my　lad；　don't　drink　any　of　that　wine　while　you

are　there。〃　　〃Good　God！〃　said　John；　indignantly　throwing　the　key　on

the　bed；　then；　recollecting　that　the　miserable　being　before　him　was

no　object　of　resentment；　he　gave　the　promise　required；　and　entered

the　closet；　which　no　foot　but　that　of　old　Melmoth　had　entered　for

nearly　sixty　years。　　He　had　some　difficulty　in　finding　out　the

wine；　and　indeed　stayed　long　enough　to　justify　his　uncle's

suspicions；but　his　mind　was　agitated；　and　his　hand　unsteady。　　He

could　not　but　remark　his　uncle's　extraordinary　look；　that　had　the

ghastliness　of　fear　superadded　to　that　of　death；　as　he　gave　him

permission　to　enter　his　closet。　　He　could　not　but　see　the　looks　of

horror　which　the　women　exchanged　as　he　approached　it。　　And；

finally；　when　he　was　in　it；　his　memory　was　malicious　enough　to

suggest　some　faint　traces　of　a　story；　too　horrible　for　imagination；

connected　with　it。　　He　remembered　in　one　moment　most　distinctly；

that　no　one　but　his　uncle　had　ever　been　known　to　enter　it　for　many

years。



Before　he　quitted　it；　he　held　up　the　dim　light；　and　looked　around

him　with　a　mixture　of　terror　and　curiosity。　　There　was　a　great　deal

of　decayed　and　useless　lumber；　such　as　might　be　supposed　to　be

heaped　up　to　rot　in　a　miser's　closet；　but　John's　eyes　were　in　a

moment；　and　as　if　by　magic；　riveted　on　a　portrait　that　hung　on　the

wall；　and　appeared；　even　to　his　untaught　eye；　far　superior　to　the

tribe　of　family　pictures　that　are　left　to　molder　on　the　walls　of　a

family　mansion。　　It　represented　a　man　of　middle　age。　　There　was

nothing　remarkable　in　the　costume；　or　in　the　countenance；　but　THE

EYES；　John　felt；　were　such　as　one　feels　they　wish　they　had　never

seen；　and　feels　they　can　never　forget。　　Had　he　been　acquainted　with

the　poetry　of　Southey；　he　might　have　often　exclaimed　in　his　after…

life；





　　　　　〃Only　the　eyes　had　life；

　　　　　　They　gleamed　with　demon　light。〃THALABA。





From　an　impulse　equally　resistless　and　painful；　he　approached　the

portrait；　held　the　candle　toward　it；　and　could　distinguish　the

words　on　the　border　of　the　painting；Jno。　Melmoth；　anno　1646。

John　was　neither　timid　by　nature；　nor　nervous　by　constitution；　nor

superstitious　from　habit；　yet　he　continued　to　gaze　in　stupid　horror

on　this　singular　picture；　till；　aroused　by　his　uncle's　cough；　he

hurried　into　his　room。　　The　old　man　swallowed　the　wine。　　He

appeared　a　little　revived；　it　was　long　since　he　had　tasted　such　a

cordial；his　heart　appeared　to　expand　to　a　momentary　confidence。

〃John；　what　did　you　see　in　that　room？〃　　〃Nothing；　Sir。〃　　〃That's　a

lie；　everyone　wants　to　cheat　or　to　rob　me。〃　　〃Sir；　I　don't　want　to

do　either。〃　　〃Well；　what　did　you　see　that　youyou　took　notice　of？〃

〃Only　a　picture；　Sir。〃　　〃A　picture；　Sir！the　original　is　still

alive。〃　　John；　though　under　the　impression　of　his　recent　feelings；

could　not　but　look　incredulous。　　〃John；〃　whispered　his　uncle；

〃John；　they　say　I　am　dying　of　this　and　that；　and　one　says　it　is　for

want　of　nourishment；　and　one　says　it　is　for　want　of　medicine；but；

John；〃　and　his　face　looked　hideously　ghastly；　〃I　am　dying　of　a

fright。　　That　man；〃　and　he　extended　his　meager　arm　toward　the

closet；　as　if　he　was　pointing　to　a　living　being；　〃that　man；　I　have

good　reason　to　know；　is　alive　still。〃　　〃How　is　that　possible；　Sir？〃

said　John　involuntarily；　〃the　date　on　the　picture　is　1646。〃　　〃You

have　seen　it；you　have　noticed　it；〃　said　his　uncle。　　〃Well；〃he

rocked　and　nodded　on　his　bolster　for　a　moment；　then；　grasping

John's　hand　with　an　unutterable　look；　he　exclaimed；　〃You　will　see

him　again；　he　is　alive。〃　　Then；　sinking　back　on　his　bolster；　he

fell　into　a　kind　of　sleep　or　stupor；　his　eyes　still　open；　and　fixed

on　John。



The　house　was　now　perfectly　silent；　and　John　had　time　and　space　for

reflection。　　More　thoughts　came　crowding　on　him　than　he　wished　to

welcome；　but　they　would　not　be　repulsed。　　He　thought　of　his　uncle's

habits　and　character；　turned　the　matter　over　and　over　again　in　his

mind；　and　he　said　to　himself；　〃The　last　man　on　earth　to　be

superstitious。　　He　never　thought　of　anything　but　the　price　of

stocks；　and　the　rate　of　exchange；　and　my　college　expenses；　that

hung　heavier　at　his　heart　than　all；　and　such　a　man　to　die　of　a

fright；a　ridiculous　fright；　that　a　man　living　150　years　ago　is

alive　still；　and　yethe　is　dying。〃　　John　paused；　for　facts　will

confute　the　most　stubborn　logician。　　〃With　all　his　hardness　of

mind；　and　of　heart；　he　is　dying　of　a　fright。　　I　heard　it　in　the

kitchen；　I　have　heard　it　from　himself；he　could　not　be　deceived。

If　I　had　ever　heard　he　was　nervous；　or　fanciful；　or　superstitious；

but　a　character　so　contrary　to　all　these　impressions；a　man　that；

as　poor　Butler　says；　in　his　'Remains　of　the　Antiquarian；'　would

have　'sold　Christ　over　again　for　the　numerical　piece　of　silver

which　Judas　got　for　him；'such　a　man　to　die　of　fear！　　Yet　he　IS

dying；〃　said　John；　glancing　his　fearful　eye　on　the　contracted

nostril；　the　glazed　eye；　the　drooping　jaw；　the　whole　horrible

apparatus　of　the　facies　Hippocraticae　displayed；　and　soon　to　cease

its　display。



Old　Melmoth　at　this　moment　seemed　to　be　in　a　deep　stupor；　his　eyes

lost　that　little　expression　they　had　before；　and　his　hands；　that

had　convulsively　been　catching　at　the　blankets；　let　go　their　short

and　quivering　grasp；　and　lay　extended　on　the　bed　like　the　claws　of

some　bird　that　had　died　of　hunger；so　meager；　so　yellow；　so

spread。　　John；　unaccustomed　to　the　sight　of　death；　believed　this　to

be　only　a　sign　that　he　was　going　to　sleep；　and；　urged　by　an　impulse

for　which　he　did　not　attempt　to　account　to　himself；　caught　up　the

miserable　light；　and　once　more　ventured　into　the　forbidden　room；

the　BLUE　CHAMBER　of　the　dwelling。　　The　motion　roused　the　dying

man；he　sat　bolt　upright　in　his　bed。　　This　John　could　not　see；　for

he　was　now　in　the　closet；　but　he　heard　the　groan；　or　rather　the

choked　and　gurgling　rattle　of　the　throat；　that　announces　the

horrible　conflict　between　muscular　and　mental　convulsion。　　He

started；　turned　away；　but；　as　he　turned　away；　he　thought　he　saw　the

eyes　of　the　portrait；　on　which　his　own　was　fixed；　MOVE；　and　hurried

back　to　his　uncle's　bedside。



Old　Melmoth　died　in　the　course　of　that　night；　and　died　as　he　had

lived；　in　a　kind　of　avaricious　delirium。　　John　could　not　have

imagined　a　scene　so　horrible　as　his　last　hours　presented。　　He

cursed　and　blasphemed　about　three　ha