“Oh! sir, have you not a charm to be obtained from all those books,
from all your sermons, from all your robes, by which you can break
the contract with the devil. Laugh not; he appeared to me, in
such a form, and uttering such words, that to my dying day I dare
not rehearse them. To-morrow night he comes to claim Gideon! Your
profession is to tame and conquer the enemy. Oh! now exert that
power!”
“To-morrow night; well then, go home, and I will come at noon, and
see what is to be done. Good woman, you have (innocently I grant)
spoiled my supper, for who can eat with the smell of brimstone. I
declare that that goose now appears to me to have hoofs, instead
of claws. Mary, give Mrs. Chiselwig a compliment from Rehoboam,
to cheer her on her way home, through the storm. You’ll find
Gideon, I hope, there before you, and prove that all your fears
have been the baby thoughts of a horrid dream. May you long live
for each other,--and, Nelly, you will shew, by your future course
of conduct, I trust, that you are willing to atone for all the
domestic misery which you confess to have brought upon honest
Gideon. Nay, drink it off, Mrs. Chiselwig; it is warmer than snow,
eh?”
Nelly, after many thanks to the vicar, emptied the glass, and once
more braved the storm.
The walls of the houses were now completely drifted, and not a
footstep had left its trace on the snow-covered streets. What a
lonely feeling is over the soul, when nothing is heard but the deep
gust of the wind, driving the storm before, around, and against us,
and when all objects are being wrapped in winter’s white raiment.
For us, in youth, there never was a greater luxury, than to wander
over the dreary mountain and vale, with the snow pelting on our
face, as it was turned upwards, when not a glimpse of the sky could
meet it; and then, after having become thoroughly exhausted, to
enter some natural cave, or sheepfold, on the waste, and there
seated, gaze around upon bush, bank, and hill, cottages, and woods,
all thatched with white: and even yet, by night, has the old man
taken his staff, and tottered to the hall door, to stand without
the threshold, devoutly uncovering his head, white as winter’s
after December has smoothed it, and looked up, while the snow
fell, sweet and grateful as the kisses of his only child, upon his
dim eyes, and feverish forehead,--and as he entered the room, has
forbidden Jane to wipe away the flakes, for he wished them gently
to weep themselves to death, on his face, in all their virgin
sorrow. Rain, we love thee not, even in thy spring showers, and
must canopy our head to protect it from thy salutations: but Snow,
we uncover it for thy kisses, so pure and soothing. How beautiful
art thou, when the messenger of death; and a holier and a whiter
bed dost thou afford the poor traveller, than could be smoothed
and softened by the hand of his young and beloved wife, in his own
happy abode, where, true as her love in difficulty and trial, burns
the signal of her expectations, through the small lattice, during
the long night, and often trimmed in vain! How gently is he hushed
to sleep, amidst the wreathes of thy purity, unconscious of the
blast. Not a limb aches, and heaven, likewise, bids thee be thy
lover’s shroud and tomb!
Had Mrs. Chiselwig, however, been disposed to apostrophize the
snow, it would have been in very different language; and, perhaps,
the good woman had reason, as she arrived, almost blinded and
senseless, at the door, where stood two figures, whom she instantly
recognized as Gideon and Jeremiah.
“Dear, dear husband!” she exclaimed in raptures, and flung her arms
fondly around his neck, for the first time since marriage, and then
she sobbed. Gideon had started back instinctively, when he beheld
the arms raised, but now he was convinced of Nelly’s affection, and
joined her sobbing. It may be superfluous to add, that Jeremiah’s
sympathetic sluices were not closed on this occasion, and that they
threatened to deluge his person.
“Oh! Gideon, you shudder in my embrace.”
“Aye, aye, I am a lost man, yet now, I feel so happy in your love,
dear Nelly. But I am very, very cold.”
The door was opened, and after entering the house, Nelly was
informed of the exploit in the Rough Wood. She upbraided not, she
only kissed her husband, wept, and looked heart-broken. Gideon
conjured her not to be changed in temper for one day at least, and
still to treat him harshly.
“I could not,” was the affecting reply, “though such conduct were
to save your life. Oh! I feel ashamed of myself. You must, if you
wish me to be happy hereafter, give me as many scratches, kicks,
and angry words, as I have ever given you. Promise me, Gideon.”
Gideon did promise, and as the first-fruits of the vow, kissed her.
They retired not to rest, for, as the husband piteously remarked--
“Dear wife, I cannot, and I should not sleep. I must gaze upon you
as long as I am permitted. I must speak with you as long as my
language is of earth. I must embrace you as long as I am not called
upon to embrace clods, dust, and worms. Ha!” he cried in a frantic
voice, “not that! not that! I am denied burial, and must go, body
and soul, to the dark pit! I shall be mangled, and Jeremiah will
not be allowed to sew me together, into a decent corpse. Oh! oh!”
At length, punctual to his appointment, the vicar came, attended
by his nephew. What was the astonishment of the worthy man, when
he learned that Gideon had fulfilled verbatim his wife’s dream,
and actually sold himself, for better, for worse, to the devil! He
gravely shook his head, and the motion was also communicated to his
paunch, as he remarked--
“I am afraid that the present is a case far beyond my poor skill.
I once, indeed, had the honour of casting out a devil, but he was
a blue devil, and I put his victim into a room by himself, for a
month, and removed a large bottle, after which the man was never
tormented with him again. But this--”
“And you a doctor of the church,” interrupted
Jeremiah--“humph!--with a black coat, professing that you are able
and inclined to fight the devil in his own colours. Now, if you
could fight a blue devil, in a black coat, would you not have a
greater chance of success in fighting a black devil? Had I as many
prayers, homilies, and sermons, Dr. Mauncel, I would instantly
take and pull him by the nose, very much to the lengthening of
his proboscis. Oh! doctor, accompany us to the place of the awful
meeting, and I will carry the Book as your weapon!”
“Yes, yes,” added Mrs. Chiselwig with great earnestness and
simplicity, “and I will carry--what was the name, sir?--Yes,
Rehoboam. I’ll carry Rehoboam for you.”
“He is a dear child, and I could scarcely trust him out of my own
hands.”
But we cannot detail the conversation, many episodes of which were
long prayers, and spiritual maxims, calculated to do anything or
everything, save to overturn and reverse the horrid destiny of
Gideon--the doomed of Satan. None gave consolation, until the
parson’s nephew suggested that it was quite possible, indeed
extremely probable, that the devil would find the building of the
wall a task, by no means easy; and that, for his part, he would be
most willing to take his uncle’s post, and accompany poor Gideon to
the place of rendezvous, and see the wall to be, in mason’s terms,
sufficient and proper, before the Devil could claim a hair of the
tailor’s head. Still, this was not altogether satisfactory, for the
first condition, and that which appeared the most difficult, had
been strictly fulfilled.
As the clock struck every hour, Gideon seemed to hear the fiend
exclaim, “prepare.” His heart vibrated so much, that had it been
skilfully placed in the mechanism, it would have regularly and
accurately moved the pendulum. He counted every shade darkening on
the sky, until night came on; and melancholy, if not poetical, was
his farewell to the glorious sun. He was not altogether ignorant of
figure and trope, to eke out his pathos, as will be seen.
“There thou art, about to disappear for ever from these delighted
eyes, with thy beautiful chariot! That dark cloud is thy coachman,
with a pink-coloured vest. He is now mounting, and in a moment will
be ready to drive thee into the ocean, and wet thy garments, making
them truly uncomfortable for thy tailor, whoever he be, to repair.
He has lighted his pipe of tobacco, and puffs out the smoke to keep
away the sea sickness. His drab great coat is now over him, and he
is exclaiming, ‘all’s right, all’s right.’ ’Tis false, charioteer,
all’s wrong, wrong. Farewell, thou orb of day. I go, where time is
not measured by day--the tailor; and clad by night--his journeyman.
Yet just one other peep; yes, here is thy ray upon my hand. Oh!
Nelly, hast thou a glove to put over my hand, and thus confine
the light for ever to be my hope. Farewell! To-morrow thou again
appearest, but not for me. Perchance, as thou arisest over the
finished wall, thou mayest observe my head as the cope stone. At
morn, how anxiously have I removed the nightcap from my eye to
behold thy charms, O sun! How beautifully dost thou gleam into the
soup, and kindly reveal all the peas and beans which slily lie at
the bottom of the dish. How fondly hast thou loved my needle, and
even danced, with thy hundred feet, upon the point! Farewell!” and
he closed the window and wept.
The speech may contain a little of the ludicrous; not so the
feelings. In vain did Nelly, who had been a little consoled by
the remarks of the parson’s nephew, and who had, therefore, been
able to attend to cookery, set before him food the most savoury,
to tempt his appetite, with what one of the signs elegantly terms
“the real-original-genuine-best Ormskirk gingerbread.” As her hands
spread them on the table, Gideon’s sorrow was renewed, for the
thought struck him, that they would move before him no more. It was
no easy matter for the good man to be resigned to the loss of his
wife, just when she had become so agreeable and affectionate.
Soon Mary Mauncel entered, leaning on the arm of her cousin. She
had tried all her arts to dissuade him from the expedition, and had
even threatened never to speak to him again. And yet, out of pure
love and care for him, and of her own accord, she had come along
with him to Gideon’s house. And never had she spoken so much and
so tenderly, as she did now, cautioning William, for her sake, not
to be rash. Jeremiah shewed them to seats, and because there was a
scarcity of chairs, mounted the table himself. Gideon had watched
the motion.
“Ah! Jeremiah, I have sat there for the last time. Orders shall be
sent, good broad cloth shall be spread out, but no Gideon shall be
there to cut, sew, and mend.”
“Reverse the picture,” added his brother, “and change the scene. A
horrible pit, at the bottom of which--”
“Nay, Jeremiah; do not make me to anticipate it. Young gentleman,
how are your nerves braced for the work? Give me your hand.”
At that moment, however, the lover felt his hand touched, and
detained gently by Mary, so he held out the sinister one to the
tailor.
“Ready, quite ready, Gideon. I shall return with you safe again.
Fear not; you shall not lose Mrs. Chiselwig, nor,” he added in a
whisper to his beautiful companion, “shall I lose Mary Mauncel.”
“Is the night calm?” meekly inquired Nelly, who had some thoughts
of accompanying her husband.
“Beautiful and clear,” was the reply. “The snow is glistening in
the moon’s rays, and not a breath of wind awakes it.”
“Beautiful it is,” added Mary, in a low voice to William, “but for
ghosts, devils, and your folly. How much happier should we have
been together, in the garden.”
Jeremiah’s very acute ear had distinguished these words. “Ah! my
young lady, the open field, where we are to meet the enemy, is much
more romantic than a garden; and you must be happier there, as the
shelter is better. The devil had fled without a place of meeting
being definitely assigned, but I had courage enough to recall him,
and then we agreed upon a spot of ground to the right of Aughton
Moss, and in the direction of Cleives Hills. Garden? No, no, for
were I concealed behind a bush, even in the presence of your
father, the enemy might ask him to bestow the little bird that was
in such a bush, and his reverence, not knowing, might comply, and I
should then be caged. All must be open and exposed.”
“No more,” exclaimed Gideon in agony, after he had returned from
the door, where, for the last minute he had been gazing upon the
moon, “no more must I see thy light, after a few short hours. Ha!
and the candle too. But let me try how I can do without it,” and he
immediately extinguished it. “Horrible darkness; and then I must
for ever put on and take off my clothes, and shave and wash myself
with liquid fire, and eat without a light; yes, eat brimstone and
tempest, without having a candle to shew the mouth. Hush, hush, I
hear some fiend eating. His lips smack.”
Gideon was not wrong in one part of his conjectures, for Mary’s
lover, taking advantage of the light being extinguished, was
attempting to console and pacify her by whispers and kisses. The
clock now struck the hour of eleven, and Nelly lighted the candle,
to prepare the last supper for her husband. Not a word was spoken.
Every countenance was fixed upon the miserable pair. Every little
noise startled them, and then again they were immovable, as gloomy
pictures. The candle flame turned blue. The chimney looked darker
and darker. Shadows flitted upon the wall, in formidable guise.
At length the parson’s nephew proposed that Miss Mauncel, rather
than return to her father, should keep poor Nelly company in their
absence.
“Come, Gideon, come; it is the hour.” What terror these words
inspired in all, save the speaker, who laughed at superstition, and
even at the devil! The tailor’s limbs trembled,--he looked up, and
then hid his face in his hands. Jeremiah brought a long cloak, to
wrap his brother from the cold. All things were adjusted, as for a
criminal on the drop. He was at the door. Nelly gave a shriek;--her
husband heard it not. She embraced and hugged him,--he was passive
in her arms.
“Oh!--he is dead already!” she exclaimed, “he is,--yes!”
But they observed, by the rolling of his eyes, that although his
reason might have fled, his spirit was still in its tabernacle.
Jeremiah shook him, but Gideon responded not. He was dragged forth,
as the hour had already passed, and yet, no farewell was uttered by
him. Nelly’s farewell was a loud, a long, a piercing shriek, as he
was moved over the threshold, and then a longer fainting fit.
The snow crisped beneath their feet, a slight breeze passed over
their heads, and these were the only sounds heard. The hour of
twelve was striking in the town, as they reached the spot assigned.
Gideon now seemed to awake from his insensibility. He attempted to
speak, but words and utterance altogether failed him. The magic
circle was drawn around, and he looked up to summon the enemy of
mankind to fulfil his engagements, when a violent fit of shuddering
seized his limbs, and some thing not less gentle passed over his
soul. The stars above were fiery, and gleaming with malignant
aspect and influence over a mortal’s fate, and around them was a
dull haze, which was interpreted into a shroud. Not that the tailor
was an astrologer, in faith or practice: but there are moments
and circumstances when the orbs of heaven appear as the types of
earth’s history,--as the eyes of fate turned upon individuals,
likewise, with their revelations. He then gazed around. Not a tree
or fence stood near, for a covert; but a desert heath, still more
desolate in its appearance from its snowy covering. The ground,
with its winter’s carpet, was prevented from echoing to footsteps:
and the air seemed, too, as if it were bound up from the vibrations
of sound,--for over all was a dead silence.
William Mauncel was the first who spoke. “Gideon, thou tremblest;
I will take thy duty. Give me the charm by which thou renderest the
devil obedient to thy call. Eh? does he stand upon ceremony? My
good uncle assures us that he frequently pays us a visit when he is
not invited, and that he makes himself such a pleasant fellow, that
we are loth to give him a hint that it is not agreeable for the
time to have his company, much less to shew him to the door. Ah!
ah! Gideon, you were too polite, you gave him your card, with name
and residence, last night. That will make him troublesome. He is a
punctual keeper of his appointments. Now, pray, give me the signal.
Nay, then,” as Gideon’s voice could not be heard, “Jeremiah will
oblige me.”
The substance of the directions was repeated from the old book,
where they had, at first, stimulated the tailor’s courage, to make
him more than a mortal hero. William laughed at the affectionate
terms in which he was to invite the enemy; and began, in as low
and gentle a tone, to say, “Come, James, come,” as he had ever
employed when he had tapped at the window of his uncle’s study,
where his beautiful cousin was, whispering, “come, Mary, come,” in
order that she should trip out and enjoy a moonlight scene, seated
along with him in the arbour. Still the devil was not pleased most
graciously to appear, and William laughed and shouted in full
merriment. He, indeed, believed in the devil’s journeyings to and
fro, over the earth, and in his exertions and plans to obtain
victims by false and almost involuntary contracts; but then he
was not frightened, for as he firmly believed that human skill,
stratagem, and valour might baffle him. Where was the necessity, he
reasoned, of mistaking his black majesty for a gentleman in black;
of using blood instead of ink; of receiving slate stones instead of
golden coins? He also held as a part of his superstitious creed,
the existence of certain old ladies, on whose chins the Lancashire
rains have fallen with such a fructifying influence, as to beard
them “like the pard;” with hands dark and sickly, from the deadly
drugs which they mix over the light of the cauldron, in their cave,
and with decrepid and corrupted forms, as if they were spirits of
another world, and had come to the charnel house, and there clothed
themselves in a body which had begun to be the prey of worms; and
with souls, whose every idea was familiar with the dark fates in
store for earth, and rejoiced in those which were to blast the
happy, and destroy the beautiful. But then, he as firmly held that
their spells might be made to fall impotent upon man. He laughed at
them, and was prepared to scratch them, in their only vulnerable
part,--_above the breath_. In travelling, he cared not though he
should have the company of a ghost, provided it only spoke, and
recounted some horrible deed, as the avenger of which it walked
the earth,--for he hated silence. At home, he would have shook the
devil very frankly and cordially by the hand, had he ever paid him
a visit, and he would have smoked a pipe, or drunk a cup of tea
(had tea then been known) with any witch, in her own abode. Thus
William Mauncel was exceedingly merry in prospect of beholding the
devil, whom he imagined that he could so easily thwart. In a loud
voice, he again exclaimed, “come, James, come,” and instantly a
little man, with the tools of a mason-builder, stood opposite to
Gideon.
“Gideon Chiselwig, give me the dimensions of the wall which I have
contracted to build. You know that it is now an hour from my day
break, and I must finish it, and then claim you. You know me?--or
shall I disclose my features? and assume some of my former tones,
and thus convince you that I am--the devil?”
Gideon trembled still more, and feebly ejaculated, “No, no. I
believe in very deed that thou art my enemy, and, I beseech thee,
give me no further proof.”
“Until,” was the return, “your very existence and employment, as
well as habitation, shall prove it.”
“And that shall never be,” interrupted the vicar’s nephew. “Shew
thyself to us, belch fire and smoke, if you do not wish to pass for
an unskilful conjuror.”
“That would do him good,” remarked Jeremiah, “a good and powerful
vomit would be of essential service. Whenever I have compelled my
food to march too quickly down into my stomach, I am not well until
it has made a hasty retreat back again to head quarters. It is
exactly the same when too much goes at once. Now, I suppose that
you have rather more of fire and smoke than you could wish. In
fact, your throat is said to be worse than a chimney. Would it not,
therefore, be prudent to vomit a little?”
“To be sure it would,” answered young Mauncel, trying to restrain
his laughter, “yet, Jeremiah, he has enough of brimstone to physic
him.”
The earth instantly shook; beneath and around them, they heard the
elements as if contending in the bowels of the earth; fire blazing,
rivers dashing and rolling, and thunder reverberating. Jeremiah
fell down, but very quietly, and lay with his face close to the
ground, if we except his hands, which, somehow or other, intervened
between the snow and his watery countenance. Gideon groaned and
shrieked alternately; and their companion, now, was startled into
silence and paleness, so awful were the signs of the devil’s
presence and power. A low, but deep voice, now came from the mason,
as he approached to the circle.
“Give me your directions, Gideon, as to the place where I shall
commence to raise the wall, and they shall be obeyed. For a time I
am your servant, and am content to be so, for through eternity I
shall be your master: men value every thing by time--devils value
every thing by eternity. And who would not be a servant for such
hire?--an hour’s labour,--and as a compensation for it, a soul to
torment through all eternity! Come, haste, give me the dimensions
of the wall. Eh? have I not reformed Nelly?”
Gideon tremulously answered, that he had given the dimensions last
night.
“True, true,” was the reply, “you did. Gaze, and soon you shall
behold the wall arising, and as the last stone is placed, be ready
to meet your fate; yet,” he soliloquized, as he moved round the
circle, “what have I, in which to carry the sand for the mortar!
I can tear up stones, but I cannot dig for sand, and what can I
procure to convey it from the sand hills! Oh! I see it.”
Jeremiah’s apron had been more valorous than its master, and
boldly, though very unwisely, had ventured to lie down without the
circle, and, in a moment, was seized upon by Satan, who disappeared
with his spoil to a little distance. Then commenced the tearing
up of the stones; and so speedily was this part of the engagement
finished, that Jeremiah remarked, with much warmth in his
approbation, “that the devil would make an excellent quarryman,
and that he must have been employed in digging and building his own
pit.” All the fiends of hell seemed to be let loose, so loud was
the noise, and so wide and deep the shaking. Whenever the stones
were heaved up too large, lightning leapt upon them, and they were
broken into smaller sizes. But what was still more surprising,
a deep smoke arose, and every object, for a short space, was
imperceptible, until it was rolled away by a vivid flash of fire,
furious as a tempest. The ground was no more covered with snow, and
Jeremiah found himself squatted on the mud. The enemy could not be
seen, but all the stones were placed ready for the builder.
“He is gone over the moss,” exclaimed Gideon, “to the sand
hills. Ha! dost thou not, Jeremiah, perceive those wings of fire
fluttering in the distance, away towards the sea? And soon he will
return to finish his undertaking. I have no hopes.”
“Would that his hoofs sunk in the moss,” ejaculated his brother,
“for many a better fellow than he, has met with his fate there. Oh,
brother, sustain your spirits, and your body likewise.”