classic mystery and detective stories- 第39部分

writer　reckoned　on　their　embracing　the　easier　alternative；　but　even

this　was　to　be　clogged　with　a　heavy　condition；namely；　that　they

must　be　bound　before　a　magistrate　to　convert　twenty　Mussulmans　a

day；　on　their　return　to　Turkey。　　The　rest　of　the　pamphlet　was

reasoned　very　much　in　the　conclusive　style　of　Captain　Bobadil；

these　twenty　will　convert　twenty　more　apiece；　and　these　two　hundred

converts；　converting　their　due　number　in　the　same　time；　all　Turkey

would　be　converted　before　the　Grand　Signior　knew　where　he　was。

Then　comes　the　coup　d'eclat；one　fine　morning；　every　minaret　in

Constantinople　was　to　ring　out　with　bells；　instead　of　the　cry　of

the　Muezzins；　and　the　Imaum；　coming　out　to　see　what　was　the　matter；

was　to　be　encountered　by　the　Archbishop　of　Canterbury；　in

pontificalibus；　performing　Cathedral　service　in　the　church　of　St。

Sophia；　which　was　to　finish　the　business。　　Here　an　objection

appeared　to　arise；　which　the　ingenuity　of　the　writer　had

anticipated。〃It　may　be　redargued；〃　saith　he；　〃by　those　who　have

more　spleen　than　brain；　that　forasmuch　as　the　Archbishop　preacheth

in　English；　he　will　not　thereby　much　edify　the　Turkish　folk；　who　do

altogether　hold　in　a　vain　gabble　of　their　own。〃　　But　this　（to　use

his　own　language）　he　〃evites；〃　by　judiciously　observing；　that　where

service　was　performed　in　an　unknown　tongue；　the　devotion　of　the

people　was　always　observed　to　be　much　increased　thereby；　as；　for

instance；　in　the　church　of　Rome；that　St。　Augustine；　with　his

monks；　advanced　to　meet　King　Ethelbert　singing　litanies　（in　a

language　his　majesty　could　not　possibly　have　understood）；　and

converted　him　and　his　whole　court　on　the　spot；that　the　sybilline

books。　。　。　。



　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。



Cum　multis　aliis。



Between　the　pages　were　cut　most　exquisitely　in　paper　the　likenesses

of　some　of　these　Turkish　ambassadors；　the　hair　of　the　beards；　in

particular；　was　feathered　with　a　delicacy　of　touch　that　seemed　the

work　of　fairy　fingers；but　the　pages　ended　with　a　complaint　of　the

operator；　that　his　scissors　had　been　taken　from　him。　　However；　he

consoled　himself　and　the　reader　with　the　assurance；　that　he　would

that　night　catch　a　moonbeam　as　it　entered　through　the　grating；　and；

when　he　had　whetted　it　on　the　iron　knobs　of　his　door；　would　do

wonders　with　it。　　In　the　next　page　was　found　a　melancholy　proof　of

powerful　but　prostrated　intellect。　　It　contained　some　insane　lines；

ascribed　to　Lee　the　dramatic　poet；　commencing；





　　　　　〃O　that　my　lungs　could　bleat　like　buttered　pease；〃　&c。





There　is　no　proof　whatever　that　these　miserable　lines　were　really

written　by　Lee；　except　that　the　measure　is　the　fashionable　quatrain

of　the　period。　　It　is　singular　that　Stanton　read　on　without

suspicion　of　his　own　danger；　quite　absorbed　in　the　album　of　a

madhouse；　without　ever　reflecting　on　the　place　where　he　was；　and

which　such　compositions　too　manifestly　designated。



It　was　after　a　long　interval　that　he　looked　round；　and　perceived

that　his　companion　was　gone。　　Bells　were　unusual　then。　　He

proceeded　to　the　door；it　was　fastened。　　He　called　aloud；his

voice　was　echoed　in　a　moment　by　many　others；　but　in　tones　so　wild

and　discordant；　that　he　desisted　in　involuntary　terror。　　As　the　day

advanced；　and　no　one　approached；　he　tried　the　window；　and　then

perceived　for　the　first　time　it　was　grated。　　It　looked　out　on　the

narrow　flagged　yard；　in　which　no　human　being　was；　and　if　there　had；

from　such　a　being　no　human　feeling　could　have　been　extracted。



Sickening　with　unspeakable　horror；　he　sunk　rather　than　sat　down

beside　the　miserable　window；　and　〃wished　for　day。〃



　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。



At　midnight　he　started　from　a　doze；　half　a　swoon；　half　a　sleep；

which　probably　the　hardness　of　his　seat；　and　of　the　deal　table　on

which　he　leaned；　had　not　contributed　to　prolong。



He　was　in　complete　darkness；　the　horror　of　his　situation　struck　him

at　once；　and　for　a　moment　he　was　indeed　almost　qualified　for　an

inmate　of　that　dreadful　mansion。　　He　felt　his　way　to　the　door；

shook　it　with　desperate　strength；　and　uttered　the　most　frightful

cries；　mixed　with　expostulations　and　commands。　　His　cries　were　in　a

moment　echoed　by　a　hundred　voices。　　In　maniacs　there　is　a　peculiar

malignity；　accompanied　by　an　extraordinary　acuteness　of　some　of　the

senses；　particularly　in　distinguishing　the　voice　of　a　stranger。

The　cries　that　he　heard　on　every　side　seemed　like　a　wild　and

infernal　yell　of　joy；　that　their　mansion　of　misery　had　obtained

another　tenant。



He　paused；　exhausted；a　quick　and　thundering　step　was　heard　in　the

passage。　　The　door　was　opened；　and　a　man　of　savage　appearance　stood

at　the　entrance；two　more　were　seen　indistinctly　in　the　passage。

〃Release　me；　villain！〃〃Stop；　my　fine　fellow；　what's　all　this

noise　for？〃　　〃Where　am　I？〃　　〃Where　you　ought　to　be。〃　　〃Will　you

dare　to　detain　me？〃〃Yes；　and　a　little　more　than　that；〃　answered

the　ruffian；　applying　a　loaded　horsewhip　to　his　back　and　shoulders；

till　the　patient　soon　fell　to　the　ground　convulsed　with　rage　and

pain。　　〃Now　you　see　you　are　where　you　ought　to　be；〃　repeated　the

ruffian；　brandishing　the　horsewhip　over　him；　〃and　now　take　the

advice　of　a　friend；　and　make　no　more　noise。　　The　lads　are　ready　for

you　with　the　darbies；　and　they'll　clink　them　on　in　the　crack　of

this　whip；　unless　you　prefer　another　touch　of　it　first。〃　　They　then

were　advancing　into　the　room　as　he　spoke；　with　fetters　in　their

hands　（strait　waistcoats　being　then　little　known　or　used）；　and

showed；　by　their　frightful　countenances　and　gestures；　no

unwillingness　to　apply　them。　　Their　harsh　rattle　on　the　stone

pavement　made　Stanton's　blood　run　cold；　the　effect；　however；　was

useful。　　He　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　acknowledge　his　（supposed）

miserable　condition；　to　supplicate　the　forbearance　of　the　ruthless

keeper；　and　promise　complete　submission　to　his　orders。　　This

pacified　the　ruffian；　and　he　retired。



Stanton　collected　all　his　resolution　to　encounter　the　horrible

night；　he　saw　all　that　was　before　him；　and　summoned　himself　to　meet

it。　　After　much　agitated　deliberation；　he　conceived　it　best　to

continue　the　same　appearance　of　submission　and　tranquillity；　hoping

that　thus　he　might　in　time　either　propitiate　the　wretches　in　whose

hands　he　was；　or；　by　his　apparent　inoffensiveness；　procure　such

opportunities　of　indulgence；　as　might　perhaps　ultimately　facilitate

his　escape。　　He　therefore　determined　to　conduct　himself　with　the

utmost　tranquillity；　and　never　to　let　his　voice　be　heard　in　the

house；　and　he　laid　down　several　other　resolutions　with　a　degree　of

prudence　which　he　already　shuddered　to　think　might　be　the　cunning

of　incipient　madness；　or　the　beginning　result　of　the　horrid　habits

of　the　place。



These　resolutions　were　put　to　desperate　trial　that　very　night。

Just　next　to　Stanton's　apartment　were　lodged　two　most　uncongenial

neighbors。　　One　of　them　was　a　puritanical　weaver；　who　had　been

driven　mad　by　a　single　sermon　from　the　celebrated　Hugh　Peters；　and

was　sent　to　the　madhouse　as　full　of　election　and　reprobation　as　he

could　hold；and　fuller。　　He　regularly　repeated　over　the　five

points　while　daylight　lasted；　and　imagined　himself　preaching　in　a

conventicle　with　distinguished　success；　toward　twilight　his　visions

were　more　gloomy；　and　at　midnight　his　blasphemies　became　horrible。

In　the　opposite　cell　was　lodged　a　loyalist　tailor；　who　had　been

ruined　by　giving　credit　to　the　cavaliers　and　their　ladies；（for　at

this　time；　and　much　later；　down　to　the　reign　of　Anne；　tailors　were

employed　by　females　even　to　make　and　fit　on　their　stays）；who　had

run　mad　with　drink　and　loyalty　on　the　burning　of　the　Rump；　and　ever

since　had　made　the　cells　of　the　madhouse　echo　with　fragments　of　the

ill…fated　Colonel　Lovelace's　song；　scraps　from　Cowley's　〃Cutter　of

Coleman　street；〃　and　some　curious　specimens　from　Mrs。　Aphra　Behn's

plays；　where　the　cavaliers　are　denominated　the　heroicks；　and　Lady

Lambert　and　Lady　Desborough　represented　as　going　to　meeting；　their

large　Bibles　carried　before　them　by　their　pages；　and　falling　in

love　with　two　banished　cavaliers　by　the　way。　　The　voice　in　which　he

shrieked　out　such　words　was　powerfully　horrible；　but　it　was　like

the　moan　of　an　infant　compared　to　the　voice　which　took　up　and

reechoed　the　cry；　in　a　tone　that　made　the　building　shake。　　It　was

the　voice　of　a　maniac；　who　had　lost　her　husband；　children；

subsistence；　and　finally　her　reason；　in　the　dreadful　fire　of

London。　　The　cry　of　fire　never　failed　to　operate　with　terrible

punctuality　on　her　associations。　　She　had　been　in　a　disturbed

sleep；　and　now　started　from　it　as　suddenly　as　on　that　dreadful

night。　　It　was　Saturday　night　too；　and　she　was　always　observed　to

be　particularly　violent　on　that　night；it　was　the　terrible　weekly

festival　of　insanity　with　her。　　She　was　awake；　and　busy　in　a　moment

escaping　from　the　flames；　and　she　dramatized　the　whole　scene　with

such　hideous　fidelity；　that　Stanton's　resolution　was　far　more　in

danger　from　her　than　from　the　battle　between　his　neighbors

Testimony　and　Hothead。　　She　began　exclaiming　she　was　suffocated　by

the　smoke；　then　she　sprung　from　her　bed；　calling　for　a　light；　and

appeared　to　be　struck　by　the　sudden　glare　that　burst　through　her

casement。〃The　last　day；〃　she　shrieked；　〃The　last　day！　　The　very

heavens　are　on　fire！〃〃That　will　not　come　till　the　Man　of　Sin　be

first　destroyed；〃　cried　the　weaver；　〃thou　ravest　of　light　and　fire；

and　yet　thou　art　in　utter　darkness。I　pity　thee；　poor　mad　soul；　I

pity　thee！〃　　The　maniac　never　heeded　him；　she　appeared　to　be

scrambling　up　a　staircase　to　her　children's　room。　　She　exclaimed

she　was　scorched；　singed；　suffocated；　her　courage　appeared　to　fail；

and　she　retreated。　　〃But　my　children　are　there！〃　she　cried　in　a

voice　of　unspeakable　agony；　as　she　seemed　to　make　another　effort；

〃here　I　amhere　I　am　come　to　save　you。Oh　God！　　They　are　all

blazing！Take　this　armno