Oscar Wilde 5

7/28/2019 Oscar Wilde 5

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Cantervilles we re up in town. Besides, it w as his own suit. He had worn it

wit h great success at the Kenilworth t ournament, a nd had been highly

complimented on it by no less a person than the Virgin Queen herself. Yet

whe n he had put it on, he had been completely overpowered by the w eight

of the huge breastplate a nd steel casque, and had fallen heavily on the

stone pavement, barking both his knees severely, and bruising the

knuckles of his right hand.

For some days after t his he was e xtreme ly ill, and hardly stirred out of

his room at all, exce pt to k eep the blood-stain in proper repair. How ever, by

tak ing great care of himself, he recovered, and resolved to mak e a third

att empt to frighten the United State s Minister and his family. He selecte d

Friday, the 17 th of August, for his appearance, and spent most of that day

in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding in favour of a large

slouched hat w ith a red feat her, a winding-sheet frilled at the w rists and

neck, a nd a rusty dagger. Towards evening a violent storm of rain cam e on,

and the w ind was so high that a ll the w indows and doors in the old house

shook and rattled. I n fact, it w as just such weat her as he loved. His plan of

act ion wa s this. He w as to make his way quietly to Washington Otis's room,

gibber at him from the foot of the bed, and stab himself three time s in the

throat t o the sound of slow music. He bore Washington a special grudge,being quite aw are that it wa s he who wa s in the habit of removing the

famous Canterville blood-stain, by means of Pinkerton's Paragon Detergent.

Having reduced the reckless and foolhardy youth to a condition of abject

terror, he w as then to proceed to the room occupied by the United States

Minister and his wife, and there to place a clam my hand on Mrs. Otis's

forehead, while he hissed into her t rembling husband's ear the aw ful


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secrets of the charnel-house. With regard to little V irginia, he had not quite

made up his mind. She had never insulted him in any wa y, and was prett y

and gentle. A few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be

more than sufficient, or, if that failed to w ake her, he might grabble at t he

counterpane w ith palsy-tw itching fingers. As for the tw ins, he w as quite

determined to teac h them a lesson. The first thing to be done was, of

course, to sit upon their chests, so as to produce the stifling sensation of

nightmare. Then, as their beds were quite close to ea ch other, to stand

betw een them in the form ofa green, icy-cold corpse, till they becam e

paralysed wit h fear, and finally, to throw off the winding-sheet, and crawl

round the room, with white , bleached bones and one rolling eyeball, in the

charact er of 'Dumb Daniel, or the Suicide's Skelet on,' a role in w hich he had

on more than one occasion produced a great e ffect, and which he

considered quite e qual to his famous part of 'Martin the Maniac, or t he

Masked M ystery.'

< 9 >

At half-past te n he heard the family going to bed. For some t ime he wa s

disturbed by wild shrieks of laughter from the t wins, w ho, with t he light-

hearted gaiety of schoolboys, we re evidently am using them selves beforethey retired to rest, but at a quarter past eleven all w as still, and, as

midnight sounded, he sallied forth. The ow l beat against the w indow panes,

the raven croaked from the old yew-tree, and the w ind wandered moaning

round the house like a lost soul; but the Otis family slept unconscious of

their doom, and high above the rain and storm he c ould hear the steady

snoring of the Minister for the United Sta tes. He stepped stealthily out of

the w ainscoting, with an e vil smile on his cruel, wrinkled mouth, and the


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moon hid her face in a c loud as he stole past the great oriel window, w here

his own arms and those of his murdered w ife w ere blazoned in azure and

gold. On and on he glided, like a n evil shadow, the very darkness seeming

to loathe him a s he passed. Once he thought he heard something call, and

stopped; but it w as only the baying of a dog from the Red Farm, and he

we nt on, mutte ring strange sixtee nth-century curses, and ever and anon

brandishing the rusty dagger in the midnight air. Finally he reached the

corner of the passage that led to luckless Washington's room. For a

moment he paused there, the w ind blowing his long grey locks about his

head, and t wisting into grotesque and fanta stic folds the name less horror

of the dead m an's shroud. Then the clock struck the quarte r, and he felt t he

time w as come. He chuckled to himself, and turned the c orner; but no

sooner had he done so, than, wit h a piteous w ail of terror, he fell back, an d

hid his blanched face in his long, bony hands. Right in front of him was

standing a horrible spectre, mot ionless as a carven image, and monstrous

as a madman's dream! Its head w as bald and burnished; its face round, and

fat, and w hite; and hideous laughter seeme d to have w rithed its features

into an ete rnal grin. From the eyes streamed rays of scarlet light, the

mouth wa s a w ide we ll of fire, and a hideous garment, like to his own,

swat hed with its silent snows the T itan form. On its breast w as a placard

wit h strange writing in antique characters, some scroll of shame it seeme d,

some record of wild sins, some aw ful calendar of crime, and, wit h its right

hand, it bore aloft a falchion of gleaming steel.

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Never having seen a ghost before, he na turally was terribly frightened,

and, after a second hasty glance at t he aw ful phantom, he fled back t o his


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room, tripping up in his long winding sheet as he sped down the corridor,

and finally dropping the rusty dagger into the Minister's jack-boots, where it

wa s found in the morning by the butler. Once in the privacy of his own

apartment , he flung himself down on a sma ll pallet-bed, and hid his face

under the clothes. After a t ime, howe ver, the brave old Canterville spirit

asserted itself, and he determined to go and speak to the othe r ghost as

soon as it was daylight. Accordingly, just as the daw n wa s touching the

hills w ith silver, he returned tow ards the spot whe re he had first laid eyes

on the grisly phantom, feeling that, afte r all, two ghosts were be tte r than

one, and that, by the aid of his new friend, he might safely grapple w ith the

tw ins. On reaching the spot, however, a t errible sight met his gaze.

Something had evidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely

faded from its hollow e yes, the gleaming falchion had fallen from its hand,

and it w as leaning up against the w all in a strained and uncomfortable

att itude. He rushed forward a nd seized it in his arms, w hen, to his horror,

the hea d slipped off and rolled on the floor, the body assumed a recumbent

posture, and he found himself clasping a white dimity bed-curtain, with a

swee ping-brush, a k itchen cle aver, and a hollow turnip lying at his feet!

Unable t o understand t his curious transformation, he clutched the placa rd

wit h feverish haste, and t here, in the grey morning light, he read these

fearful words: -

YE OT IS GH OSTE.

Ye Onlie true and Originale Spook.

Beware of Ye Imitationes.

All others are Counterfeite.

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Oscar Wilde 5