In April he was released from his engagement, and he immediately went
abroad, alone. He travelled through Normandy into Brittany, spending
two months at a little village called Chanteuil, not far from the
Point du Sillon. Here he wandered about mostly alone, dressed in
the roughest possible costume, and allowing his beard to grow. "At
Chanteuil I first learnt how to think, or rather how to converse with
myself as I had before done with other persons; I also found for the
first time that I did not dislike my own company."
In June he went south, sailing from Brest to Bordeaux, and then
descending by land into Spain, where he remained till August. Here he
spent a long time in exploring the table-land between the Asturian
Mountains and the sea, and then from Burgos visiting Madrid, Toledo,
Ciudad, and Seville, and so to Gibraltar. From Gibraltar he sailed
up the south-east coast, and settled himself for another month at a
little village called Benigarcia, about five miles east of Sorrion,
on the river Mijares. In November he sailed by Minorca, starting from
Barcelona, to Sicily, and spent the rest of the year in the north of
Italy, sailing from Sicily to Genoa, and settling at a village called
Riviglio, not very far from Verona. He was obliged to adopt this
plan of settling, as his exchequer was not large. From this place
he visited Venice on foot, and early in the year visited Rome and
Florence, sailing from Ancona in March for Spalatro, and worked up
through Hungary to a little place called Bochnia, on the Vistula,
down which river he went by boat to Königsberg, staying in
Warsaw a few weeks. Once on the Baltic, he hired a fishing-boat, and
spent a month in cruising about, during which time he discovered, or
rather unearthed, an island, which formed the subject of the only
letter he wrote to me during his entire absence.
"Copenhagen, June, 1876.
"My dear Carr,
"I am writing this on board the fishing-smack _Paradys_, which is at
this moment lying in Copenhagen Roads, being myself owner by hire and
supercargo of the same. The first object of my note is to assure you
of my existence, as your letter which was forwarded after me to
Danzig seemed to imply uncertainty on that point, and moreover
expressed a strange solicitude as to my well-being which was by no
means unpleasing to me; then to request you to perform several small
commissions for me....
"Lastly, to tell you of a very curious adventure I met with. Some
weeks ago I was cruising not very far from Danzig, when we sighted a
low wooded island about seven miles off land. I discovered by dint of
arduous questioning, for the lingo of these fellows is very uncouth,
that it was uninhabited, because its owner, a Danish nobleman,
devoted it to the growing of wood for firewood, etc.; a poor
speculation, I should say, as the wind blows very fresh from the sea
and stunts the trees; and also partly because of a bad name attaching
to it, and many horrid superstitions—what, they could not tell me.
It was a curious-looking place, not very large, but with deep
indented bays all round running very far inland, so as to give it
somewhat the shape of a starfish with seven or eight irregular arms;
the woods come down very close to the sea and are mostly fir or
larch. I could see a few trees further inland of a lighter green, but
could not make out to what species they belonged. Between the woods
and the sea there are sands loosely overgrown with that spiky grass
that covers sand-hills, and at the extremity of two of the valleys
a marsh formed by a freshwater spring. The place is frequented by
birds, mostly pigeons, and a good many waterfowl of different kinds.
"We spent a hot oppressive day with very little wind in cruising
leisurely round it as close in shore as we could get. I should guess
that it was about eleven miles round, measuring from the ends of the
promontories. We saw no signs whatever of habitation except the
three or four old boats on props in one of the creeks used by the
woodcutters as cabins when they come. I found out from my men that so
great was the horror of the place, that even smugglers, when hard
pressed, have been known to risk capture rather than put in to the
island; and on my inquiring the cause of these rumours, they gave me
various vague and grotesque stories about dead men and women, and
a figure which sat on the seaward cape and wept, with long hair
drooping all over her; and, worst of all, of two boys, dressed in an
antique dress, whom to see was certain disaster, and to speak with
certain death.
"Toward evening the breeze freshened; and as it was getting dark I
proposed casting anchor in one of the creeks. My men manifested the
greatest alarm; but as the channel is full of shoals and sands
between the island and the mainland (which is at that place very much
deserted), and we were not acquainted with the lie of them, and as
I bound myself by the most solemn promises not to send any of them
ashore, they at last reluctantly consented. However, as none of them
would stir an inch, but crowded together in the most disgusting
proximity into their hole of a cabin, I was left the sole patrol of
the place.
"It was an oppressive evening, and I walked about a long time up and
down, and finally sat down to smoke. The place was curiously silent,
except that every now and then it was broken by those strange
woodland sounds, like smothered cries or groans, seeming to proceed
out of the heart of the wood at a great distance. We lay in a sandy
creek with banks of pines on each side, rising up very black against
the sky, which had that still green enamelled look that it gets on a
very quiet evening. At the far end of the creek was a large marsh
covered with the white cotton rush then in bloom; it caused a strange
glimmering which I could see till it got quite dark. The only other
sound was the wash of the short waves on the sands outside, and the
gurgle and cluck of the water as it crept past the boat and out to
sea.
"Toward midnight I saw a sight that I have never seen before nor
expect to see again. I was surprised to see a light, apparently on
the shore, in the direction of the marsh. It looked exactly like a
lantern carried by a man. It was very indistinct, but wavered about,
always floating about a foot or two from the surface, sometimes
standing still as though he was looking for something on the ground,
and sometimes moving very quickly. It was a will-o'-the-wisp—a
phosphorescent exhalation.
"It was a foul pestilential place, there is no doubt. The mist was
all about us by midnight, and smelt very heavy and cold. I awoke
shivering in the morning, and not feeling by any means as fresh or
vigorous as usual; but nevertheless I determined to explore the
island—singly, if none of the men would accompany me.
"Straight up in front of me, apparently about a mile inland, was a
very marked clump of trees projecting above the other foliage. I had
noticed it several times from the sea the day before. You could see
the red stems clearly above the other trees. It evidently marked a
knoll or rising ground of some kind, and I determined to make that
the object of my journey, and scale, if possible, the trees to get a
bird's-eye view of the place.
"As I had expected, I could not get a single member of the crew to
accompany me further than the shore, and they were frightened at
that. Two of them, who were very much attached to me, implored
me most earnestly not to go, but seeing that I was bent upon it,
shrugged their shoulders and were silent. The instant I was deposited
with my gun on shore, they turned back to the boat and immured
themselves. I arranged that at twelve o'clock, if I did not return,
they should leave the creek and go round the island within hailing
distance, so as to pick me up at any point. I started along the
shore, skirting the marsh which wound through the pines.
"The first thing that I came upon was a heronry. I had noticed
several of these magnificent birds the day before sailing over the
island, and this creek was evidently their settlement; up they went,
floating away in all directions with a marvellous, almost magical
rapidity and silence of flight. This persuaded me more than anything
else that the island was unfrequented, as they are a very shy bird,
and distrustful of human beings. I then left the stream and struck
straight up into the woods, as nearly as possible toward the clump.
"I put up a few rabbits and a great many pigeons. I also saw an
animal that I believe to have been a wolf, but it retreated with such
rapidity that I lost sight of it among the tree stems. There was very
little undergrowth, as often happens under pines, but the boughs
overhead formed a close screen, and the heat was very oppressive.
After about an hour's walking I emerged on a cliff above the sea,
having mistaken my direction, and crossed the island diagonally. On
getting clear of the trees I could again see the goal of my walk, the
clump, this time a good deal nearer; and now resolutely plunging into
the wood, and keeping always slightly to the right, for I saw that my
bias was to the left, I came at last to a place where I could see the
sides of a mound through the trees rather indistinctly.
"All of a sudden I came to a low wall among the trees, overgrown in
some places, but opposite me almost entirely clear. It was built of
large stones carefully fitted together, like the architecture that I
remembered to have seen called Cyclopean in architectural histories
of Greece. It was easily climbed, and I saw that it surrounded the
mound at the distance of about fifty yards, in an irregular circle.
"The space which intervened between it and the mound was partially
filled with great hewn stones planted all about, some of them lying
on their side, some upright, many of them broken. Going through these
I came upon the mound itself. It was crowned with a group of firs,
which I could see at once to be much older than the surrounding
trees. They were far larger and taller, for the height of the mound
did not entirely account for the extraordinary way in which they
overtopped the rest of the trees. The mound was very steep, and was
apparently constructed of stones built carefully together; but only
very small portions of the masonry were visible, it was so overgrown
and hidden.
"Wandering round it I found a rude flight of steps leading to the
top, also much overgrown. I ascended hastily, and found myself on the
top of a smooth plateau, about fifty by thirty yards, surrounded by
the gigantic firs; but what immediately arrested my attention was a
strange rude altar in the middle, ornamented with uncouth figures and
other ornaments. It was covered with moss at the top, and very much
cracked and splintered in places.
"I concluded at once that I was in the presence of some remains,
probably Druidic in origin, which, owing to the extraordinary
desolation of the spot and the superstition attaching to the island,
had been so long unvisited as to have been forgotten. I could see
that the mound was quite surrounded by the wall, and that it was
evidently a sacred enclosure of some kind.
"And gazing and wondering, the stories attributed to the place seemed
not wholly without cause. There are certain atmospheres, I have
always held, which, as it were, infect one; the very air has caught
some contagion of evil which can not be got rid of. There is a
baneful influence about some places which makes itself felt upon
all sensitive beings who approach. I have felt it on actual
battle-fields, as well as at other places that I have held to be the
scenes of unrecorded, immemorial slaughters; and as I gazed round
it seemed to gather and fall on me here. The very stillness was
appalling, for there was now a good deal of wind blowing from the
sea, as I could tell from the rustling and cracking of the fir boughs
all about, and the sound of the sea on the sand; but here there was
an oppressive heaviness, as if the place was still brooding over the
ancient horror it had seen. And this was succeeded in my mind by a
strange, overpowering, fascinating wonder and speculation as to what
dismal deeds of darkness could have been done in the place; with
whose blood, indeed, whether of innocent sheep and goats, or pleading
men and frightened children, that grim uncouth altar had run and
smoked; whether, in truth, as the ancient tales say, every one of
those gray pillars all about had been set up, and still was based
upon, the mouldering crushed remains of men. The sickening contagion
of the sin of the place grew upon me every moment.
"To rid myself of it I applied myself to climb one of the trees to
get a bird's-eye view of the island. This I effected without much
difficulty, and found that it was of the shape, as I have said, of an
irregular five-pointed star. From extremity to extremity, it must be,
I believe, about five miles.
"But now follows the part of my story that I do not profess to
explain. I marked in my mind the nearest path to the sea, which was
to the north-east—the path I actually pursued—and descended; and
then I became aware that the feeling I had experienced before was not
purely physical—that there _was_ a taint of a real kind in the air,
which strangely affected the emotional atmosphere. I felt helpless,
bewildered, sickened. I descended, however, from the platform, and
walked straight, in what I had determined to be the right direction,
when, just as I was about to scale the wall, heartily glad to be out
of the place, I was—not exactly called, for there was no sound—but
most unmistakably ordered to look round. Am I clear? The sensation
produced mentally and emotionally was precisely like the receiving
an imperative order that one has neither power nor inclination to
resist—so strong and sudden that I kept thinking that my name had
been called. In reflecting, however, I am certain that it was not.
"I turned at once, and saw, standing together, close by the platform,
two boys, about twelve years of age I should have said, in a loose
antique dress, of a bluish-white colour, reaching down to the knees,
and girt about the waist, with leather buskins fastened by straps
reaching up the leg; their heads were bare, and their hair, which was
a dark brown, was loose and flowing. I could not clearly distinguish
their faces, but they looked handsome, though desperately frightened.
Accompanying this was an indescribable sense, which I have sometimes
had in dreams, of an overwhelming intense vastness—space-immensity
rushing over one with a terrible power; and at the same time the
feeling of _numbers_, as if I was in the presence of a multitude
of people. All this quite momentary; in an instant I was conscious
of the tall avenues of red stems, with their dark background, and
the heavy silence of the underwood, and nothing more.
"I went as if dazed through the wood, yet unconsciously obeying the
tacit order of my determination, down a steep fully clad with pine
trees, the needles very soft under my feet, till I suddenly came out
of the stifling wood on to golden sands and blue water, and a great
restful wash of air and sunlight.
"I fired my gun as a signal, and wandering on, as if only half awake,
I came out upon another point, and saw the boat lying close below me,
whereupon I fired again, and was taken on board.
"My sensation was one of strange languor and fatigue; certainly no
fright, and very little wonder; rather as if I had been stunned or
charmed by opiates into a kind of waking slumber. I have never felt
anything like it before or since.
"But by morning I was shivering in an ague caught in that
pestilential fever-swamp, and then the fever fiend himself came and
took up his abode with me, and I am now only just convalescent, and
can sun myself on the deck, and read and write a little; but the
illness and the unconsciousness have done as such things often
do—interposed a sort of blank between me and my past life—have
deadened it, as one deadens sound by wool, so that memories no longer
strike on my mind sharp and clear, but swim along hazy and undefined;
and especially is it the case with later memories.
"What was the sight, my dear Carr, that I saw on that hill-top? Was
it nothing but the uneasiness of mind and memory disturbed and
disorganized by the seething of the foul poison-wine, throwing up
pictures and ideas out of their due course, and without subordination
to the master-will? Was it merely the story of those fisher-folk,
half apprehended, and yet evoked and subtly clad with form and shape
by the strange workshop of imagination?
"To all of these I am quite content to say 'Yes.' The sight does not
trouble me, or, indeed, anything but interest me. I am not
superstitious; I am not nervous in the least. Only I can not help
feeling as if, catching, in my weakened state, the hideous leprosy of
the place, I had received into my mind, then less able than usual to
resist, the stamp and impress of some other mind forced to linger
near that spot, and unable to avoid brooding over some haunting
remorseful thought or image of a deed, ever dismally recalling how
he stood in grim silence watching the tears and prayers of the
two soft-faced smooth-limbed Roman boys, kidnapped from some
sunny Italian villa, and carried to that gloomy place—held them
pitilessly on the altar among the other fork-bearded Druids, with
their white robes and glaring eyes—and smote the cruel blow, in
spite of the trembling touch of the young fingers and the piteous
entreaties, as they looked tearfully from side to side in the damp
sunless Golgotha, among the glens of that sinister isle.
"That is the picture that somehow or other, even in my most material
mood, is evoked by the thought of the place. The rationalist
explanation of the coming fever is far more satisfactory and
scientific; but the other keeps recurring—a curious experience
anyhow.
"If you have nothing to do you might write me a line to Stockholm,
Poste Restante. I am going north to have a look at the ice.
Altogether, what with the East still open before me, I do not expect
to come home for two or three years.
"You are one of the few friends I can rely upon, so I carry about
with me a letter addressed to you; in case of my death you will be
the first to be notified of the fact.
"Ever yours,
"Arthur Hamilton."
I have given this letter in full, because it affords a good example
of Arthur's descriptive style, which always struck me as being vivid
and graphic, and also because this little incident, not by the proof
it itself afforded, but by the turn it gave his thoughts—then rather
rapidly drifting into materialism—was the first step in a kind of
conversion from the purely physical views of life he had been apt to
take. The episode itself, too, is a curious one, and may deserve to
be recorded.