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has remained so deep in oblivion； appears immediately on a glance
at the original。 The author； Charles Robert Maturin； a needy；
eccentric Irish clergyman of 1780…1824； could cause intense
suspense and horrorcould read keenly into human motivescould
teach an awful moral lesson in the guise of fascinating fiction；
but he could not stick to a long story with simplicity。 His dozens
of shifting scenes； his fantastic coils of 〃tales within tales〃
sadly perplex the reader of 〃Melmoth〃 in the first version。 It is
hoped； however； that the present selection； by its directness and
the clearness of the story thread； may please the modern reader
better than the involved original； and bring before a wider public
some of the most gripping descriptions ever penned in English。
In Volume IV of these stories comes a tale； 〃Melmoth Reconciled；〃
which Balzac himself wrote； while under the spell of Maturin's
〃great allegorical figure。〃 Here the unhappy being succeeds in his
purpose。 The story takes place in mocking； careless Paris； 〃that
branch establishment of hell〃； a cashier； on the eve of
embezzlement and detection； cynically accedes to Melmoth's terms；
and accepts his helpwith what unlooked…for results； the reader
may see。
Charles Robert Maturin
Melmoth the Wanderer
John Melmoth； student at Trinity College； Dublin； having journeyed
to County Wicklow for attendance at the deathbed of his miserly
uncle； finds the old man； even in his last moments； tortured by
avarice； and by suspicion of all around him。 He whispers to John：
〃I want a glass of wine； it would keep me alive for some hours； but
there is not one I can trust to get it for me；they'd steal a
bottle； and ruin me。〃 John was greatly shocked。 〃Sir； for God's
sake； let ME get a glass of wine for you。〃 〃Do you know where？〃
said the old man； with an expression in his face John could not
understand。 〃No； Sir； you know I have been rather a stranger here；
Sir。〃 〃Take this key；〃 said old Melmoth； after a violent spasm；
〃take this key； there is wine in that closet；Madeira。 I always
told them there was nothing there； but they did not believe me； or
I should not have been robbed as I have been。 At one time I said
it was whisky； and then I fared worse than ever； for they drank
twice as much of it。〃
John took the key from his uncle's hand； the dying man pressed it
as he did so； and John； interpreting this as a mark of kindness；
returned the pressure。 He was undeceived by the whisper that
followed；〃John； my lad； don't drink any of that wine while you
are there。〃 〃Good God！〃 said John； indignantly throwing the key on
the bed； then； recollecting that the miserable being before him was
no object of resentment； he gave the promise required； and entered
the closet； which no foot but that of old Melmoth had entered for
nearly sixty years。 He had some difficulty in finding out the
wine； and indeed stayed long enough to justify his uncle's
suspicions；but his mind was agitated； and his hand unsteady。 He
could not but remark his uncle's extraordinary look； that had the
ghastliness of fear superadded to that of death； as he gave him
permission to enter his closet。 He could not but see the looks of
horror which the women exchanged as he approached it。 And；
finally； when he was in it； his memory was malicious enough to
suggest some faint traces of a story； too horrible for imagination；
connected with it。 He remembered in one moment most distinctly；
that no one but his uncle had ever been known to enter it for many
years。
Before he quitted it； he held up the dim light； and looked around
him with a mixture of terror and curiosity。 There was a great deal
of decayed and useless lumber； such as might be supposed to be
heaped up to rot in a miser's closet； but John's eyes were in a
moment； and as if by magic； riveted on a portrait that hung on the
wall； and appeared； even to his untaught eye； far superior to the
tribe of family pictures that are left to molder on the walls of a
family mansion。 It represented a man of middle age。 There was
nothing remarkable in the costume； or in the countenance； but THE
EYES； John felt； were such as one feels they wish they had never
seen； and feels they can never forget。 Had he been acquainted with
the poetry of Southey； he might have often exclaimed in his after…
life；
〃Only the eyes had life；
They gleamed with demon light。〃THALABA。
From an impulse equally resistless and painful； he approached the
portrait； held the candle toward it； and could distinguish the
words on the border of the painting；Jno。 Melmoth； anno 1646。
John was neither timid by nature； nor nervous by constitution； nor
superstitious from habit； yet he continued to gaze in stupid horror
on this singular picture； till； aroused by his uncle's cough； he
hurried into his room。 The old man swallowed the wine。 He
appeared a little revived； it was long since he had tasted such a
cordial；his heart appeared to expand to a momentary confidence。
〃John； what did you see in that room？〃 〃Nothing； Sir。〃 〃That's a
lie； everyone wants to cheat or to rob me。〃 〃Sir； I don't want to
do either。〃 〃Well； what did you see that youyou took notice of？〃
〃Only a picture； Sir。〃 〃A picture； Sir！the original is still
alive。〃 John； though under the impression of his recent feelings；
could not but look incredulous。 〃John；〃 whispered his uncle；
〃John； they say I am dying of this and that； and one says it is for
want of nourishment； and one says it is for want of medicine；but；
John；〃 and his face looked hideously ghastly； 〃I am dying of a
fright。 That man；〃 and he extended his meager arm toward the
closet； as if he was pointing to a living being； 〃that man； I have
good reason to know； is alive still。〃 〃How is that possible； Sir？〃
said John involuntarily； 〃the date on the picture is 1646。〃 〃You
have seen it；you have noticed it；〃 said his uncle。 〃Well；〃he
rocked and nodded on his bolster for a moment； then； grasping
John's hand with an unutterable look； he exclaimed； 〃You will see
him again； he is alive。〃 Then； sinking back on his bolster； he
fell into a kind of sleep or stupor； his eyes still open； and fixed
on John。
The house was now perfectly silent； and John had time and space for
reflection。 More thoughts came crowding on him than he wished to
welcome； but they would not be repulsed。 He thought of his uncle's
habits and character； turned the matter over and over again in his
mind； and he said to himself； 〃The last man on earth to be
superstitious。 He never thought of anything but the price of
stocks； and the rate of exchange； and my college expenses； that
hung heavier at his heart than all； and such a man to die of a
fright；a ridiculous fright； that a man living 150 years ago is
alive still； and yethe is dying。〃 John paused； for facts will
confute the most stubborn logician。 〃With all his hardness of
mind； and of heart； he is dying of a fright。 I heard it in the
kitchen； I have heard it from himself；he could not be deceived。
If I had ever heard he was nervous； or fanciful； or superstitious；
but a character so contrary to all these impressions；a man that；
as poor Butler says； in his 'Remains of the Antiquarian；' would
have 'sold Christ over again for the numerical piece of silver
which Judas got for him；'such a man to die of fear！ Yet he IS
dying；〃 said John； glancing his fearful eye on the contracted
nostril； the glazed eye； the drooping jaw； the whole horrible
apparatus of the facies Hippocraticae displayed； and soon to cease
its display。
Old Melmoth at this moment seemed to be in a deep stupor； his eyes
lost that little expression they had before； and his hands； that
had convulsively been catching at the blankets； let go their short
and quivering grasp； and lay extended on the bed like the claws of
some bird that had died of hunger；so meager； so yellow； so
spread。 John； unaccustomed to the sight of death； believed this to
be only a sign that he was going to sleep； and； urged by an impulse
for which he did not attempt to account to himself； caught up the
miserable light； and once more ventured into the forbidden room；
the BLUE CHAMBER of the dwelling。 The motion roused the dying
man；he sat bolt upright in his bed。 This John could not see； for
he was now in the closet； but he heard the groan； or rather the
choked and gurgling rattle of the throat； that announces the
horrible conflict between muscular and mental convulsion。 He
started； turned away； but； as he turned away； he thought he saw the
eyes of the portrait； on which his own was fixed； MOVE； and hurried
back to his uncle's bedside。
Old Melmoth died in the course of that night； and died as he had
lived； in a kind of avaricious delirium。 John could not have
imagined a scene so horrible as his last hours presented。 He
cursed and blasphemed about three ha