What Is the Curse of the Baskerville Family
Chapter 2. The Curse of the Baskervilles
«I have in my pocket a manuscript,» said Dr. James Mortimer.
«I observed it as y'all entered the room,» said Holmes.
«It is an former manuscript.»
«Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery.»
«How can y'all say that, sir?»
«You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the time that you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document inside a decade or so. You may possibly have read my picayune monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730.»
«The exact date is 1742.» Dr. Mortimer drew it from his chest-pocket. «This family paper was committed to my care past Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months agone created then much excitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal friend also equally his medical attendant. He was a stiff-minded man, sir, shrewd, practical, and equally unimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took this document very seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end equally did somewhen overtake him.»
Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and flattened it upon his articulatio genus. «Y'all will notice, Watson, the alternative use of the long due south and the brusk. It is one of several indications which enabled me to fix the date.»
I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. At the head was written: «Baskerville Hall,» and below in large, scrawling figures: «1742.»
«It appears to exist a statement of some sort.»
«Yes, information technology is a argument of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family.»
«But I empathise that it is something more modern and applied upon which you wish to consult me?»
«Most modern. A almost practical, pressing matter, which must be decided within twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and is intimately connected with the affair. With your permission I will read it to you.»
Holmes leaned dorsum in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, and closed his eyes, with an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned the manuscript to the calorie-free and read in a high, great voice the following curious, old-world narrative:—
«Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, withal as I come in a straight line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred fifty-fifty every bit is here set forth. And I would accept y'all believe, my sons, that the same Justice which punishes sin may too most graciously forgive information technology, and that no ban is so heavy only that past prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story non to fear the fruits of the past, simply rather to exist circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family unit has suffered and then grievously may non again exist loosed to our undoing.
«Know then that in the time of the Cracking Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attending) this Estate of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that proper name, nor tin can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might accept pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, simply there was in him a certain wanton and vicious humour which made his name a catchword through the Due west. It chanced that this Hugo came to honey (if, indeed, and then night a passion may be known under then vivid a proper name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate.
Just the young maiden, being discreet and of skillful repute, would always avoid him, for she feared his evil name. And then information technology came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with v or half-dozen of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the subcontract and carried off the maiden, her male parent and brothers being from home, every bit he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom.
Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to take her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in vino, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fearfulness she did that which might take daunted the bravest or most agile man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came downwardly from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father'due south farm.
«It chanced that some footling time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drinkable — with other worse things, perchance — to his captive, and so plant the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flight before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might simply overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood balked at the fury of the homo, one more wicked or, it may exist, more drunken than the residuum, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from the firm, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.
«At present, for some infinite the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But betimes their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the act which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was at present in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of vino. Merely at length some sense came dorsum to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took equus caballus and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly beside, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her ain home.
«They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the human, equally the story goes, was so crazed with fright that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. „But I accept seen more than than that," said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute backside him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.» So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But shortly their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping beyond the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white barm, went by with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a swell fear was on them, only they yet followed over the moor, though each, had he been solitary, would have been correct glad to accept turned his horse'due south head.
Riding slowly in this way they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the caput of a deep dip or goyal, as we telephone call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring optics, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
«The company had come to a halt, more than sober men, equally you lot may guess, than when they started. The near of them would by no means accelerate, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the about drunken, rode forrad downward the goyal.
Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood 2 of those great stones, still to be seen at that place, which were set up by certain forgotten peoples in the days of one-time. The moon was shining vivid upon the clearing, and in that location in the eye lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, expressionless of fright and of fatigue. Merely information technology was not the sight of her body, nor nonetheless was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying about her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, just it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his pharynx, in that location stood a foul affair, a nifty, blackness beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal centre has rested upon. And even equally they looked the affair tore the pharynx out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing optics and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor.
One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were just broken men for the rest of their days.
«Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family unit so sorely ever since. If I accept set information technology down information technology is considering that which is conspicuously known hath less terror than that which is just hinted at and guessed. Nor tin can it be denied that many of the family take been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Nonetheless may we shelter ourselves in the space goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or quaternary generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you lot past way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those nighttime hours when the powers of evil are exalted.
«[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.]»
When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his brow and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.
«Well?» said he.
«Do yous not notice it interesting?»
«To a collector of fairy tales.»
Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket.
«Now, Mr. Holmes, nosotros will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Relate of May 14th of this twelvemonth. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date.»
My friend leaned a niggling forrad and his expression became intent. Our company readjusted his glasses and began:—
«The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose proper name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a insufficiently short flow his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a example where the scion of an old canton family which has fallen upon evil days is able to brand his ain fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, fabricated large sums of money in Southward African speculation.
More wise than those who get on until the bike turns against them, he realized his gains and returned to England with them. It is only 2 years since he took upwards his residence at Baskerville Hall, and information technology is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that the whole country-side should, inside his own lifetime, profit by his skilful fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. His generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.
«The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charles cannot exist said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could exist from any merely natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a man who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in his personal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband interim as butler and the wife every bit housekeeper.
Their testify, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some amore of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same outcome.
«The facts of the instance are unproblematic. Sir Charles Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the 4th of May Sir Charles had alleged his intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out every bit usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles'south footmarks were easily traced downwardly the Aisle. One-half-way down this walk in that location is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the Alley, and it was at the far finish of it that his torso was discovered.
One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that his chief's footprints contradistinct their character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to take been walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, merely he appears by his ain confession to have been the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries, but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles'south person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion — so bully that Dr. Mortimer refused at kickoff to believe that it was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him — it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion.
This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic affliction, and the coroner'due south jury returned a verdict in accord with the medical testify. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been then sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connexion with the thing, it might have been difficult to discover a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be nevertheless live, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The beau when final heard of was in America, and inquiries are beingness instituted with a view to informing him of his skillful fortune.»
Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket. «Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connexion with the death of Sir Charles Baskerville.»
«I must give thanks yous,» said Sherlock Holmes, «for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of involvement. I had observed some paper annotate at the time, only I was exceedingly preoccupied by that picayune affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This commodity, you say, contains all the public facts?»
«It does.»
«Then let me have the private ones.» He leaned back, put his finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression.
«In doing then,» said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to prove signs of some strong emotion, «I am telling that which I have non confided to anyone. My motive for withholding information technology from the coroner'south inquiry is that a human being of scientific discipline shrinks from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, every bit the newspaper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no applied expert could result from it, but with you lot there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.
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