Harte R. - My Uncles Strange Story

I was passing through Chicago lately on my way home from India to England, viâ San Francisco, having been engaged for several years in engineering work for the British Government in Bengal, when it struck me to look for an uncle of mine who lived in that city. I had but a vague idea of him, for he emigrated before I was born, and had kept up no correspondence with our family. All I knew of the old gentleman was, that in his youth he had given great promise as a physician, but that he had unaccountably thrown up a large and growing practice in London, and had gone to reside in Italy, where he married; and that soon after his marriage he sailed with his wife to the United States. We had once heard casually that he settled in a Western city, where he had considerable reputation as a “mad doctor,” and we had lately learned that he had retired from practice and was living with his wife in a suburb of Chicago.

The doctor’s name was in the Directory, and I was received most kindly. I found him a fine-looking old gentleman, tall, dignified, and courtly, and retaining more than the traces of the beauty of form and feature which were a tradition about him in our family. My aunt I found to be a very handsome old lady, white-haired and erect, with large dark eyes, and a smile that put me at my ease at once. They insisted that I should occupy their spare room during my stay in Chicago – an offer I very willingly accepted.

We had been talking one evening about those strange cases of insanity, in which not even the slightest trace of structural injury is found in the brain after death.

“I have seen so many cases of functional disorder cured,” said the doctor at last, “that I am confident most of them would yield to continued care and treatment. In general, however, people have not the necessary time to devote to crazy relatives, and send them to an asylum instead. But, my dear,” he added, turning to his wife, “suppose we have our supper?”

“Why, gracious me!” exclaimed my aunt, glancing at the clock, and putting down her knitting, “I had no idea it was so late! I have not heard the girl come in, and I fear the fire will be out. Tell him about that patient of yours in the Alps, while you are waiting.” With that she hurried away.

My uncle fairly jumped round in his chair to stare after his wife, uttering the monosyllable “What!” in a tone that rendered it expressive of a whole vocabulary of astonishment.

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“Pray do, sir,” said I, seeing that he seemed to hesitate.

“I don’t know that I ought to tell it to you,” replied my uncle. “Still, as your aunt has suggested it, I will do so. But it is so strange a story, that I hardly believe it myself at times, although I have every reason to know it to be true.”

Then lighting another cigar my uncle began his narrative:

“In the summer of 1845,” he said, “I stopped for a few days at the village of Abendbrod in the Austrian Alps. I was then thirty years of age, and had taken my medical degree in London five years before. I had been for several months on the Continent, visiting lunatic asylums, having made insanity my special study. I had stopped last at Vienna, until the heat there had made me feel the necessity of rest and change, as I had for a long time been almost living among lunatics. For several weeks I had been in constant attendance at the State Asylum for the insane in that city, where I had been the guest of Dr. Otto Von Streidlitz, first resident physician, a young man of the highest order of intellect, between whom and myself a very strong friendship sprang up during our too short acquaintance. It was the month when Von Streidlitz should have taken his short holiday, but he was detained by the constant arrival of distressing cases, which were then being collected in all the provinces and sent in by order of the emperor, of mad persons found chained up by relations, or living in a wild state in deserted places. Von Streidlitz had urged me not to wait for him, promising to join me in the mountains as soon as he could get away.

“One evening I was sitting in the big hall of the inn at Abendbrod, listening to the gossip and tales of the villagers. The stories that evening turned chiefly on murders and robberies, for the village mind was excited by the lawless doings of a gang of escaped convicts, four of whom had been seen that day within a few miles of the place. Suddenly the door was flung open, and in strode a young Austrian artist, who was also a guest at the inn. He was greeted with acclamation, as he had usually some amusing adventure to tell.

“‘Well, my friends,’ he cried, ‘I have seen your lovely madwoman, and, by the gods, I had an escape of my life. I should say she is mad, and beautiful too. Oh what a model she would make if we could catch and tame her!’

“Between mouthfuls of bread and cheese, he proceeded to tell us that after a long hunt he had found the cave in which mad Gretchen lived, which was situated about five miles from the village, and on one of the roughest mountain slopes. He approached it cautiously, and was peering into its darkness, when a stone whizzed close to his head and fell shattered from the rocky wall beside him; and turning, he beheld, within a few yards of him, the personification of fury, in the shape of the mad woman herself – ragged, erect, with gleaming eye and open nostril. He attempted to explain that he was only a harmless artist who had

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lost his way, but she advanced on him, brandishing a formidable knife, and he beat a hasty retreat.

“Loud laughter followed this recital and many were the jokes at the young man’s expense. On enquiry, I learned that this young woman had ‘arrived from the West,’ three years before. She was then travelling in good style with her father, who, however, was taken suddenly ill when passing through Terrino, a village which lies at the other side of the mountain, within the Italian frontier, and about eight miles from Abendbrod. The old gentleman soon died, which was such a shock to his daughter, then 17 years old, that the villagers had to nurse her through a fever; but she had almost recovered when one night she disappeared, and the next tidings of her was that she had taken up her quarters in the cave that the artist had visited, and was a raving maniac. Many but futile efforts had been made to induce, or even force her, to leave her wretched abode; she would allow no one to approach her, and would have probably perished during the winters, had not the kind-hearted villagers left supplies of food where she could find them. No friend or relation had ever enquired for her, and nothing was found among her effects which gave a clue to her identity. She was seldom seen in the day-time, but wandered round at night, sometimes singing in a strange, weird voice.

“This is one of the kind of cases that the authorities were looking for, and the cave was in Austrian territory, so I determined to try my luck with mad Gretchen as they called her. I have always got on well with lunatics, and when I was young I prided myself upon this power over them; besides, I had a strong curiosity to see this girl whom everybody described as so beautiful. I was bound for Terrino, where I expected letters, and the pathway passed near Gretchen’s cave. So next morning I buckled on my knapsack, and bade adieu to the hospitable villagers, receiving in return many warnings not to go too near the madwoman.

“Five miles in the High-Alps is as bad as twenty on level ground, and a good deal worse if you lose your way, as I did mine on that occasion. I came to a tree that had been struck by lightning, and I had been told that such a tree marked the place where I should strike up the mountain side to find the madwoman’s cave. Near the tree was a little path, which I took. Unfortunately, the tree was the wrong one, and the path turned out to be one of the innumerable cow or goat tracks of the mountains which gradually fade away and lead nowhere. I wandered all day in vain efforts to find the road again, and towards evening I sat down by a little stream and dabbled my aching feet in the cool water, wondering how I should make out for the night, and eating some bread and cheese I had luckily brought with me.

“I had fallen into a reverie when I suddenly felt a touch on my shoulder, and looking up, my eyes met those of mad Gretchen herself!

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There she was, standing over me, and completely mistress of the situation. To my relief, however, I saw that her eyes were not gleaming, nor were her nostrils distended in anger, and her big knife nestled harmlessly in her girdle.

“‘I knew that you would come at last,’ she said; ‘but oh, what a long, long time I have been waiting for you.’ This was said in unmistakably native English, in a wonderfully sweet voice, and in a most pathetic tone.

“I scrambled to my feet, utterly bewildered by such an unexpected greeting, and stood before her. She was undoubtedly a beautiful creature. Tall, slender, and graceful, with dark brown hair and eyes, oval face, regular features and a forehead that ought to have betokened intellect. In fact, to describe her as she was then would require the pen of a novelist. For some seconds we stood looking at each other; then her face became illuminated by that peculiar ecstatic smile that is sometimes seen in emotional insanity, and she put out both her hands, which I mechanically took in mine.

“‘I knew the Gods would send you in time to save me,’ she said, ‘but to-morrow would have been too late, for they will be here to-night. Come, let us make haste, for I have got to get some things from the cave before we start.’

“I sat down without speaking, to put on my shoes and stockings. I was in a nice predicament. Mad Gretchen had evidently made up her mind to come with me, just as she was, dressed in a marvellous assortment of rags and tatters of clothing that once had been costly, but was now rather dirty and exceedingly ludicrous, although extremely picturesque. Moreover, I did not know at what moment her furious mania would break out again, and I knew of no place where to take her so suddenly. Before I met her, I was planning how I would get her away; now, when she wanted to come, I found myself planning how to get away from her. I made up my mind to humour her until she brought me to the path to Terrino, and until I saw how things would develop. I felt sure that Von Streidlitz would take an interest in her but I was not prepared for this suddenness.

“As I shouldered my knapsack she said: ‘Follow me’; and led the way over brook and boulder with an easy agility that taxed my powers to keep up with her. No word was spoken until we reached the cave, the entrance to which was a small opening in a high perpendicular wall of rock, in front of which wall the strata formed a grassy ledge of about fifty feet wide, beyond which again the forest began, and the mountain sloped downward. Seating herself on a fallen tree near the cave Gretchen said: ‘Now let us rest a little,’ and motioned to me to sit beside her.

“We sat in silence for a few moments. Accustomed as I was to lunatics, I felt a strange embarrassment with this poor girl. She had shown no symptom of the violence with which she was credited, her

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manner was completely trustful, she could look in my eye without flinching – a most rare thing in insanity – and I reflected that her delusion that I had been sent to save her, might turn out a fact after all. Presently I said:

“‘How did you know I was coming?’

“‘I saw it in the water,’ she answered quietly, ‘besides, they told me you were coming.’

“‘Who are they?’ I asked.

“‘My visitors, of course,’ answered the girl.

“‘Your visitors!’ I said, ‘why I thought you would not allow anyone to come to see you.’

“‘They come without my leave, suddenly, at all hours, and I am very glad to see them, for I should be very lonely without them,’ she said.

“It struck me then that her visitors were of the ghostly order – hallucinations; and a few more questions made it clear that such was the fact. She said that ‘they’ had told her to speak to no one till I came for her. Suddenly she seized my hand and kissed it, and said, with eyes suffused with tears, ‘Oh! I am so happy you have come for me,’ with that she disappeared into the cave.

“Left to myself, I began for the first time to realize my peculiar situation. The sun was setting, and I was exceedingly tired. To get to Terrino would take me three hours in my weary condition, and I dared not trust myself to find the way until the moon rose, which was after midnight. Moreover, poor Gretchen had made up her mind to go with me, which was impossible. I began to think that it is not always an advantage to have a soothing influence with mad people!

“Presently she emerged from the cave, bringing with her a little bundle and something wrapped up in a piece of rag which she put into my hand. It was heavy. Opening it, I found about a hundred gold pieces.

“‘Let us go,’ she said.

“She seemed so quiet and in many ways so rational that I determined to try to persuade her to wait a few days till I came back for her, so I motioned to her to sit down beside me, which she did. Taking her hand in mine, I said:

“‘Gretchen, you say that I am your deliverer, but, if I am to save you you must let me do things my own way. We must not make a false start, and I am very tired and my feet are blistered.’

“She sighed and put her bundle down beside her. This encouraged me and I went on:

“‘I know that you are a sensible young woman and can understand that it would never do for you to go where there are well-dressed people in the clothes you have now. They would ridicule and insult you; and we should both be arrested, for you have no passport.’

“I looked at her now; she had become very pale, and her large eyes

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were fixed on me in apparent astonishment. She said nothing, however, and I went on:

“‘What I intend to do is this To-morrow morning I will go to Terrino, and post on to a city, where I will get a lodging for you with a lady who will be kind to you, and where I can often come to see you Then I will come back for you, and bring you some nice clothes.’

“She stood up without speaking, and I was startled at her changed expression, and quickly rose to my feet.

“‘You will not take me with you?’ she almost shrieked.

“‘Not this time, dear Gretchen,’ I answered, gently but firmly, and picking up the package of gold I held it out to her.

“Quick as a flash she knocked the money out of my hand, scattering it in all directions, and sprang on me like a fury, seizing my throat with both her hands in a grip of iron. By a great effort I liberated my neck, and holding her hands down I said:

“‘Foolish girl, do you not know that I have come to save you?’

“I felt the muscles of her arms slowly relax and then the look of anger gradually faded from her face, changing into the same ecstatic smile I had noticed when we met. This lasted only for an instant however. I felt her muscles again becoming rigid; her face lost all expression, her eyes grew glassy, and she had become completely cataleptic.

“It was an hour before I succeeded in bringing her back to consciousness. By that time it had become dark, and she did not recognise me at first, or realize where she was. Presently she sprang to her feet and said: “‘I have seen them, and oh! they look so cruel! There are four of them. One is very tall, another is very short, and the remaining two are middle-sized. They have ropes to tie me with. They have left Terrino and will be here soon. We must go at once; you must not leave me here.’

“I knew, of course, that she had had a dream or vision of some sort, a not uncommon feature of the cataleptic condition, and I did my best to calm her; but I could not remove from her mind the impression that four men were coming to attack her and carry her off. I had read of cases, apparently well authenticated, of persons in the cataleptic state giving evidence of abnormal powers of vision, although a case of ‘Clairvoyance’ had never occurred in my own practice. Finally it was agreed that we should wait till the moon was up, then by its light collect the scattered gold pieces, and make our way to Abendbrod, where I thought I could persuade my late host to give a temporary asylum to my poor patient, as I had now come to consider her.

“After a while she lay down on some dry leaves near her cave, and I stretched myself on the ground to wait for the moonlight. I was very weary but did not feel inclined to sleep. I must have dozed off, however, for I was startled by feeling something cold touch my hand, and

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opening my eyes I saw Gretchen stooping over me with her big knife in her grasp, and a look of anger and terror in her face.

“‘They are coming,’ she whispered, excitedly, ‘get up and make no noise.’

“I jumped to my feet, and clutching my arm, she pointed in the direction of the path that led to her cave, and bade me listen. In the solemn silence of the Alpine night I heard a sound like the tramping of feet a long way off; but it was indistinct, and I thought it was only cattle. As if she guessed my thoughts, she said:

“‘The cows have bells; besides, they woke me and told me to prepare.’

“The moon had risen by this time and we stood listening in the shadow of a projecting piece of the rock. The sounds were growing more defined, and we now heard the crackling noise that is made by people walking through the dry underbush of a forest. Presently we heard someone laugh, and Gretchen whispered: ‘Get your pistols.’ I had laid them by my side when I lay down. I really think that, mad as she was, she had her wits about her, just then, better than I had mine.

“There could be no doubt now but that there were several men in the party, for we could hear different voices, and presently they burst into view about thirty yards away. When they emerged from under the trees they suddenly halted, and ceased talking, and I heard a voice say: ‘This is the place.’

“I felt a strange creepy sensation when I saw that there were four of them, answering perfectly to her description; one was a very tall man, another, below the middle height, and the other two, medium-sized.

“As they stood talking together in undertones, I could hear one voice better than the others. I heard this man whisper to another: ‘You will throw the cloth over her head.’ I heard him ask who had got the rope, and I heard him tell the others to beware of her knife. I cocked my pistols as noiselessly as I could.

“They began to edge up towards the spot where we stood, keeping in the shade. Suddenly Gretchen stepped from my side right out into the moonlight and asked in a ringing voice what they wanted.

“The little man answered with a laugh: ‘We want you, my darling.’ Then someone cried: ‘Go!’ and all four made a rush.

“Gretchen sprang to my side, and I raised my pistol and fired at the foremost man. He leaped in the air and fell forward on his face, nearly at our feet. The others stopped, hesitated for a moment, and then fled into the woods, and I sent my other bullet after them to quicken their retreat.

“The fallen man did not move, and I went forward to examine him. He was dead, and I turned the body over to look at the face.”

My uncle’s voice had gradually been growing husky, and now he paused, and blew his nose vigorously. Presently he said:

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“My dear young nephew, when I turned that body over, I found myself confronted by one of the tragedies of my life. The man whom I had shot was Dr. Otto Von Streidlitz. I did not, however, for a moment realize that I had killed my friend. My first idea was that this escaped convict, as I thought him, bore an extraordinary likeness to him. Then a horrid suspicion stole over me. Von Streidlitz had an injured ear; half of his left ear had at some time been bitten off by one of his lunatics. I turned the head over and found that half of the left ear was missing. This was beyond the bounds of coincidence, and I knew then that I had killed my friend.

that in some unexplicable way it might possibly be my friend himself.

“I have no distinct recollection of what followed. I remember crying out, and that Gretchen ran to me. I must have fainted, for the next thing I knew was that she was kneeling beside me as I lay on the grass, and was bathing my hand with her tears, thinking I was dead.

I afterwards found that Von Streidlitz had written to me to Terrino, and had followed his letter in person. He had waited for me there for several days, not knowing I was so near him, and, like myself, had casually heard of the beautiful lunatic. His professional interest was enlisted, and he determined to capture the girl himself and send her to the asylum at Vienna. But Terrino being in Italian territory he could do nothing officially from that side, so he had organized a posse of villagers to help him to seize the girl, intending to carry her on to Abendbrod.

“My first impulse was to go and give myself up to the authorities; but I reflected that I should have to acquit myself of the charge of murder, and my only witness was precluded by her mental condition from giving evidence in a court of justice. I knew, also, that the affair would be probably misrepresented in the English papers, and my prospects ruined; and I had moreover seen something of Austrian prisons, and had no desire to form their more intimate acquaintance. I felt sure the three survivors of the raid had not seen who fired the shot, and that if I could escape into Switzerland, I should never be charged with the killing.

“I had also to consider poor Gretchen. I could not leave her behind now, for my own sake as well as hers. She was perfectly subdued, and the events of the night had drawn us closer together. I forgot her hallucinations in our common necessity to escape from our terrible surroundings. But how were we to escape? We were on the highest part of a mountain pass, with only two possible means of exit. Terrino, at one end, would be aroused by the time we got there, and we would be certainly stopped. The killing, however, would not be known as soon at Abendbrod, at the other end of the pass, and there was still time to pass that way before the villagers were astir, but poor Gretchen’s terribly conspicuous rags made subsequent recognition a certainty.

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“I was just wondering whether she would consent to put on a spare pair of trousers and shirt I had in my knapsack, when she touched my arm, and, pointing to the body, said:

“‘I will put on his clothes if you will take them off.’

“She put on my shirt, for his was stained with blood, and arrayed in his other garments she looked like a handsome youth.

“We passed unobserved through Abendbrod at dawn and spent the day in the woods a few miles further on. We caught the night diligence for Switzerland as it passed us on the road, and, as I had my brother James’s name as well as my own on my passport, we had no difficulty at the frontier.”

At this point my aunt put her head into the room, and said:

“Now, come along, for I am sure you must be starving.”

“Did poor Gretchen recover her reason?” I asked as we rose.

“Completely,” replied my uncle. “I think the shock cured her. Her ghostly visitors kept their word and never returned, and no fresh hallucination appeared; but for a long time the harmless delusion remained that she could see wonderful things by looking into clear water. Gretchen, by the bye, was only a name that the villagers gave her.”

“What was her real name?” I asked.

“A very unusual one,” answered my uncle. “Her real name was Zeretta.”

“Zeretta!” I exclaimed, with eyes wide open, “why, that’s my aunt’s name!”

My uncle smiled; put his finger to his lips, and said:

“Come along to supper.”

R. Harte.

Footnotes