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diff --git a/old/23363-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/23363-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6320c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23363-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1339 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Midnight Fantasy, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Midnight Fantasy, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Midnight Fantasy + +Author: Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23363] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MIDNIGHT FANTASY *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A MIDNIGHT FANTASY + </h1> + <h2> + By Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </h2> + <h3> + Boston And New York Houghton Mifflin Company + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1873, 1885, and 1901 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + It was close upon eleven o'clock when I stepped out of the rear vestibule + of the Boston Theatre, and, passing through the narrow court that leads to + West Street, struck across the Common diagonally. Indeed, as I set foot on + the Tremont Street mall, I heard the Old South drowsily sounding the hour. + </p> + <p> + It was a tranquil June night, with no moon, but clusters of sensitive + stars that seemed to shiver with cold as the wind swept by them; for + perhaps there was a swift current of air up there in the zenith. However, + not a leaf stirred on the Common; the foliage hung black and massive, as + if cut in bronze; even the gaslights appeared to be infected by the + prevailing calm, burning steadily behind their glass screens and turning + the neighboring leaves into the tenderest emerald. Here and there, in the + sombre row of houses stretching along Beacon Street, an illuminated window + gilded a few square feet of darkness; and now and then a footfall sounded + on a distant pavement. The pulse of the city throbbed languidly. + </p> + <p> + The lights far and near, the fantastic shadows of the elms and maples, the + gathering dew, the elusive odor of new grass, and that peculiar hush which + belongs only to midnight—as if Time had paused in his flight and + were holding his breath—gave to the place, so familiar to me by day, + an air of indescribable strangeness and remoteness. The vast, deserted + park had lost all its wonted outlines; I walked doubtfully on the + flagstones which I had many a time helped to wear smooth; I seemed to be + wandering in some lonely unknown garden across the seas—in that old + garden in Verona where Shakespeare's ill-starred lovers met and parted. + The white granite façade over yonder—the Somerset Club—might + well have been the house of Capulet: there was the clambering vine + reaching up like a pliant silken ladder; there, near by, was the low-hung + balcony, wanting only the slight girlish figure—immortal shape of + fire and dew!—to make the illusion perfect. + </p> + <p> + I do not know what suggested it; perhaps it was something in the play I + had just witnessed—it is not always easy to put one's finger on the + invisible electric thread that runs from thought to thought—but as I + sauntered on I fell to thinking of the ill-assorted marriages I had known. + Suddenly there hurried along the gravelled path which crossed mine + obliquely a half-indistinguishable throng of pathetic men and women: two + by two they filed before me, each becoming startlingly distinct for an + instant as they passed—some with tears, some with hollow smiles, and + some with firm-set lips, bearing their fetters with them. There was little + Alice chained to old Bowlsby; there was Lucille, “a daughter of the gods, + divinely tall,” linked forever to the dwarf Perrywinkle; there was my + friend Porphyro, the poet, with his delicate genius shrivelled in the + glare of the youngest Miss Lucifer's eyes; there they were, Beauty and the + Beast, Pride and Humility, Bluebeard and Fatima, Prose and Poetry, Riches + and Poverty, Youth and Crabbed Age— Oh, sorrowful procession! All so + wretched, when perhaps all might have been so happy if they had only + paired differently! I halted a moment to let the weird shapes drift by. As + the last of the train melted into the darkness, my vagabond fancy went + wandering back to the theatre and the play I had seen—Romeo and + Juliet. Taking a lighter tint, but still of the same sober color, my + reflections continued. + </p> + <p> + What a different kind of woman Juliet would have been if she had not + fallen in love with Romeo, but had bestowed her affection on some + thoughtful and stately signior—on one of the Delia Scalas, for + example! What Juliet needed was a firm and gentle hand to tame her high + spirit without breaking a pinion. She was a little too—vivacious, + you might say—“gushing” would perhaps be the word if you were + speaking of a modern maiden with so exuberant a disposition as Juliet's. + She was too romantic, too blossomy, too impetuous, too wilful; old Capulet + had brought her up injudiciously, and Lady Capulet was a nonentity. Yet in + spite of faults of training and some slight inherent flaws of character, + Juliet was a superb creature; there was a fascinating dash in her + frankness; her modesty and daring were as happy rhymes as ever touched + lips in a love-poem. But her impulses required curbing; her heart made too + many beats to the minute. It was an evil destiny that flung in the path of + so rich and passionate a nature a fire-brand like Romeo. Even if no family + feud had existed, the match would not have been a wise one. As it was, the + well-known result was inevitable. What could come of it but clandestine + meetings, secret marriage, flight, despair, poison, and the Tomb of the + Capulets? I had left the park behind, by this, and had entered a + thoroughfare where the street-lamps were closer together; but the gloom of + the trees seemed still to be overhanging me. The fact is, the tragedy had + laid a black finger on my imagination. I wished that the play had ended a + trifle more cheerfully. I wished—possibly because I see enough + tragedy all around me without going to the theatre for it, or possibly it + was because the lady who enacted the leading part was a remarkably + clean-cut little person, with a golden sweep of eyelashes—I wished + that Juliet could have had a more comfortable time of it. Instead of a + yawning sepulchre, with Romeo and Juliet dying in the middle foreground, + and that luckless young Paris stretched out on the left, spitted like a + spring-chicken with Montague's rapier, and Friar Laurence, with a dark + lantern, groping about under the melancholy yews—in place of all + this costly piled-up woe, I would have liked a pretty, mediaeval chapel + scene, with illuminated stained-glass windows, and trim acolytes holding + lighted candles, and the great green curtain slowly descending to the + first few bars of the Wedding March of Mendelssohn. + </p> + <p> + Of course Shakespeare was true to the life in making them all die + miserably. Besides, it was so they died in the novel of Matteo Bandello, + from which the poet indirectly took his plot. Under the circumstances no + other climax was practicable; and yet it was sad business. There were + Mercutio, and Tybalt, and Paris, and Juliet, and Romeo, come to a bloody + end in the bloom of their youth and strength and beauty. + </p> + <p> + The ghosts of these five murdered persons seemed to be on my track as I + hurried down Revere Street to West Cedar. I fancied them hovering around + the corner opposite the small drug-store, where a meagre apothecary was in + the act of shutting up the fan-like jets of gas in his shop-window. + </p> + <p> + “No, Master Booth,” I muttered in the imagined teeth of the tragedian, + throwing an involuntary glance over my shoulder, “you 'll not catch me + assisting at any more of your Shakespearean revivals. I would rather eat a + pair of Welsh rarebits or a segment of mince-pie at midnight than sit + through the finest tragedy that was ever writ.” + </p> + <p> + As I said this I halted at the door of a house in Charles Place, and was + fumbling for my latch-key, when a most absurd idea came into my head. I + let the key slip back into my pocket, and strode down Charles Place into + Cambridge Street, and across the long bridge, and then swiftly forward. + </p> + <p> + I remember, vaguely, that I paused for a moment on the draw of the bridge, + to look at the semi-circular fringe of lights duplicating itself in the + smooth Charles in the rear of Beacon Street—as lovely a bit of + Venetian effect as you will get outside of Venice; I remember meeting, + farther on, near a stiff wooden church in Cambridgeport, a lumbering + covered wagon, evidently from Brighton and bound for Quincy Market; and + still farther on, somewhere in the vicinity of Harvard Square and the + college buildings, I recollect catching a glimpse of a policeman, who, + probably observing something suspicious in my demeanor, discreetly walked + off in an opposite direction. I recall these trifles indistinctly, for + during this preposterous excursion I was at no time sharply conscious of + my surroundings; the material world presented itself to me as if through a + piece of stained glass. It was only when I had reached a neighborhood + where the houses were few and the gardens many, a neighborhood where the + closely-knitted town began to fringe out into country, that I came to the + end of my dream. And what was the dream? The slightest of tissues, madam; + a gossamer, a web of shadows, a thing woven out of starlight. Looking at + it by day, I find that its colors are pallid, and its threaded diamonds—they + were merely the perishable dews of that June night—have evaporated + in the sunshine; but such as it is you shall have it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + The young prince Hamlet was not happy at Elsinore. It was not because he + missed the gay student-life of Wittenberg, and that the little Danish + court was intolerably dull. It was not because the didactic lord + chamberlain bored him with long speeches, or that the lord chamberlain's + daughter was become a shade wearisome. Hamlet had more serious cues for + unhappiness. He had been summoned suddenly from Wittenberg to attend his + father's funeral; close upon this, and while his grief was green, his + mother had married with his uncle Claudius, whom Hamlet had never liked. + </p> + <p> + The indecorous haste of these nuptials—they took place within two + months after the king's death, the funeral-baked meats, as Hamlet + cursorily remarked, furnishing forth the marriage-tables—struck the + young prince aghast. He had loved the queen his mother, and had nearly + idolized the late king; but now he forgot to lament the death of the one + in contemplating the life of the other. The billing and cooing of the + newly-married couple filled him with horror. Anger, shame, pity, and + despair seized upon him by turns. He fell into a forlorn condition, + forsaking his books, eating little save of the chameleon's dish, the air, + drinking deep of Rhenish, letting his long, black locks go unkempt, and + neglecting his dress—he who had hitherto been “the glass of fashion + and the mould of form,” as Ophelia had prettily said of him. + </p> + <p> + Often for half the night he would wander along the ramparts of the castle, + at the imminent risk of tumbling off, gazing seaward and muttering + strangely to himself, and evolving frightful spectres out of the shadows + cast by the turrets. Sometimes he lapsed into a gentle melancholy; but not + seldom his mood was ferocious, and at such times the conversational + Polonius, with a discretion that did him credit, steered clear of my lord + Hamlet. + </p> + <p> + He turned no more graceful compliments for Ophelia. The thought of + marrying her, if he had ever seriously thought of it, was gone now. He + rather ruthlessly advised her to go into a nunnery. His mother had + sickened him of women. It was of her he spoke the notable words, “Frailty, + thy name is woman!” which, some time afterwards, an amiable French + gentleman had neatly engraved on the head-stone of his wife, who had long + been an invalid. Even the king and queen did not escape Hamlet in his + distempered moments. Passing his mother in a corridor or on a staircase of + the palace, he would suddenly plant a verbal dagger in her heart; and + frequently, in full court, he would deal the king such a cutting reply as + caused him to blanch, and gnaw his lip. If the spectacle of Gertrude and + Claudius was hateful to Hamlet, the presence of + </p> + <p> + Hamlet, on the other hand, was scarcely a comfort to the royal lovers. At + first his uncle had called him “our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our + son,” trying to smooth over matters; but Hamlet would have none of it. + Therefore, one day, when the young prince abruptly announced his intention + to go abroad, neither the king nor the queen placed impediments in his + way, though, some months previously, they had both protested strongly + against his returning to Wittenberg. + </p> + <p> + The small-fry of the court knew nothing of Prince Hamlet's determination + until he had sailed from Elsinore; their knowledge then was confined to + the fact of his departure. It was only to Horatio, his fellow-student and + friend, that Hamlet confided the real cause of his self-imposed exile, + though perhaps Ophelia half suspected it. + </p> + <p> + Polonius had dropped an early hint to his daughter concerning Hamlet's + intent. She knew that everything was over between them, and the night + before he embarked Ophelia placed in the prince's hand the few letters and + trinkets he had given her, repeating, as she did so, a certain distich + which somehow haunted Hamlet's memory for several days after he was on + shipboard: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.” + </pre> + <p> + “These could never have waxed poor,” said Hamlet softly to himself, as he + leaned over the taffrail, the third day out, spreading the trinkets in his + palm, “being originally of but little worth. I fancy that that allusion to + 'rich gifts' was a trifle malicious on the part of the fair Ophelia;” and + he quietly dropped them into the sea. + </p> + <p> + It was as a Danish gentleman voyaging for pleasure, and for mental profit + also, if that should happen, that Hamlet set forth on his travels. Settled + destination he had none, his sole plan being to get clear of Denmark as + speedily as possible, and then to drift whither his fancy took him. His + fancy naturally took him southward, as it would have taken him northward + if he had been a Southron. Many a time while climbing the bleak crags + around Elsinore he had thought of the land of the citron and the palm; + lying on his couch at night, and listening to the wind as it howled along + the machicolated battlements of the castle, his dreams had turned from the + cold, blonde ladies of his father's court to the warmer beauties that + ripen under sunny skies. He was free now to test the visions of his + boyhood. + </p> + <p> + So it chanced, after various wanderings, all tending imperceptibly in one + direction, that Hamlet bent his steps towards Italy. + </p> + <p> + In those rude days one did not accomplish a long journey without having + wonderful adventures befall, or encountering divers perils by the way. It + was a period when a stout blade on the thigh was a most excellent + travelling companion. Hamlet, though of a philosophical complexion, was + not slower than another man to scent an affront; he excelled at feats of + arms, and no doubt his skill, caught of the old fencing-master at + Elsinore, stood him in good stead more than once when his wit would not + have saved him. Certainly, he had hair-breadth escapes while toiling + through the wilds of Prussia and Bavaria and Switzerland. At all events, + he counted himself fortunate the night he arrived at Verona with nothing + more serious than a two-inch scratch on his sword arm. + </p> + <p> + There he lodged himself, as became a gentleman of fortune, in a suite of + chambers in a comfortable palace overlooking the swift-flowing Adige—a + riotous yellow stream that cut the town into two parts, and was spanned + here and there by rough-hewn stone bridges, which it sometimes sportively + washed away. It was a brave old town that had stood sieges and plagues, + and was full of mouldy, picturesque buildings and a gayety that has since + grown somewhat mouldy. A goodly place to rest in for the wayworn pilgrim! + He dimly recollected that he had letters to one or two illustrious + families; but he cared not to deliver them at once. It was pleasant to + stroll about the city, unknown. There were sights to see: the Roman + amphitheatre, and the churches with their sculptured sarcophagi and + saintly relics—interesting joints and saddles of martyrs, and enough + fragments of the true cross to build a ship. The life in the <i>piazze</i> + and on the streets, the crowds in the shops, the pageants, the lights, the + stir, the color, all mightily took the eye of the young Dane. He was in a + mood to be amused. Everything diverted him—the faint pulsing of a + guitar-string in an adjacent garden at midnight, or the sharp clash of + gleaming sword blades under his window, when the Montecchi and the + Cappelletti chanced to encounter each other in the narrow footway. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Hamlet brushed up his Italian. He was well versed in the + literature of the language, particularly in its dramatic literature, and + had long meditated penning a gloss to “The Murther of Gonzago,” a play + which Hamlet held in deservedly high estimation. + </p> + <p> + He made acquaintances, too. In the same palace where he sojourned lived a + very valiant soldier and wit, a kinsman to Prince Escalus, one Mercutio by + name, with whom Hamlet exchanged civilities on the staircase at first, and + then fell into companionship. + </p> + <p> + A number of Verona's noble youths, poets and light-hearted men-about-town, + frequented Mercutio's chambers, and with these Hamlet soon became on + terms. + </p> + <p> + Among the rest were an agreeable gentleman, with hazel eyes, named + Benvolio, and a gallant young fellow called Romeo, whom Mercutio bantered + pitilessly and loved heartily. This Romeo, who belonged to one of the + first families, was a very susceptible spark, which the slightest breath + of a pretty woman was sufficient to blow into flame. To change the + metaphor, he fell from one love affair into another as easily and + logically as a ripe pomegranate drops from a bough. He was generally + unlucky in these matters, curiously enough, for he was a handsome youth in + his saffron satin doublet slashed with black, and his jaunty velvet bonnet + with its trailing plume of ostrich feather. + </p> + <p> + At the time of Hamlet's coming to Verona, Romeo was in a great despair of + love in consequence of an unrequited passion for a certain lady of the + city, between whose family and his own a deadly feud had existed for + centuries. Somebody had stepped on somebody else's lap-dog in the far + ages, and the two families had been slashing and hacking at each other + ever since. It appeared that Romeo had scaled a garden wall, one night, + and broken upon the meditations of his inamorata, who, as chance would + have it, was sitting on her balcony enjoying the moonrise. No lady could + be insensible to such devotion, for it would have been death to Romeo if + any of her kinsmen had found him in that particular locality. Some tender + phrases passed between them, perhaps; but the lady was flurried, taken + unawares, and afterwards, it seemed, altered her mind, and would have no + further commerce with the Montague. This business furnished Mercutio's + quiver with innumerable sly shafts, which Romeo received for the most part + in good humor. + </p> + <p> + With these three gentlemen—Mercutio, Benvolio, and Romeo—Hamlet + saw life in Verona, as young men will see life wherever they happen to be. + Many a time the nightingale ceased singing and the lark began before they + were abed; but perhaps it is not wise to inquire too closely into this. A + month had slipped away since Hamlet's arrival; the hyacinths were opening + in the gardens, and it was spring. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as he and Mercutio were lounging arm in arm on a bridge near + their lodgings, they met a knave in livery puzzling over a parchment which + he was plainly unable to decipher. + </p> + <p> + “Read it aloud, friend!” cried Mercutio, who always had a word to throw + away. + </p> + <p> + “I would I could read it at all. I pray, sir, can you read?” + </p> + <p> + “With ease—if it is not my tailor's score;” and Mercutio took the + parchment, which ran as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “<i>Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Ansdmo, and his + beauteous sisters; the lady widow Vitrumo; Signior Placentio, and his + lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, + his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, + and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “A very select company, with the exception of that rogue Mercutio,” said + the soldier, laughing. “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “My master, the Signior Capulet, gives a ball and supper to-night; these + the guests; I am his man Peter, and if you be not one of the house of + Montague, I pray come and crush a cup of wine with us. Rest you merry;” + and the knave, having got his billet deciphered for him, made off. + </p> + <p> + “One must needs go, being asked by both man and master; but since I am + asked doubly, I 'll not go singly; I 'll bring you with me, Hamlet. It is + a masquerade; I have had wind of it. The flower of the city will be there—all + the high-bosomed roses and low-necked lilies.” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet had seen nothing of society in Verona, properly speaking, and did + not require much urging to assent to Mercutio's proposal, far from + foreseeing that so slight a freak would have a fateful sequence. + </p> + <p> + It was late in the night when they presented themselves, in mask and + domino, at the Capulet mansion. The music was at its sweetest and the + torches were at their brightest, as the pair entered the dancing-hall. + They had scarcely crossed the threshold when Hamlet's eyes rested upon a + lady clad in a white silk robe, who held to her features, as she moved + through the figure of the dance, a white satin mask, on each side of which + was disclosed so much of the rosy oval of her face as made one long to + look upon the rest. The ornaments this lady wore were pearls; her fan and + slippers, like the robe and mask, were white—nothing but white. Her + eyes shone almost black contrasted with the braids of warm gold hair that + glistened through a misty veil of Venetian stuff, which floated about her + from time to time and enveloped her, as the blossoms do a tree. Hamlet + could think of nothing but the almond-tree that stood in full bloom in the + little <i>cortile</i> near his lodging. She seemed to him the incarnation + of that exquisite spring-time which had touched and awakened all the + leaves and buds in the sleepy old gardens around Verona. + </p> + <p> + “Mercutio! who is that lady?” + </p> + <p> + “The daughter of old Capulet, by her stature.” + </p> + <p> + “And he that dances with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Paris, a kinsman to Can Grande della Scala.” + </p> + <p> + “Her lover?” + </p> + <p> + “One of them.” + </p> + <p> + “She has others?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough to make a squadron; only the blind and aged are exempt.” + </p> + <p> + Here the music ceased and the dancers dispersed. Hamlet followed the lady + with his eyes, and, seeing her left alone a moment, approached her. She + received him graciously, as a mask receives a mask, and the two fell to + talking, as people do who—have nothing to say to each other and + possess the art of saying it. Presently something in his voice struck on + her ear, a new note, an intonation sweet and strange, that made her + curious. Who was it? It could not be Valentine, nor Anselmo; he was too + tall for Signior Placentio, not stout enough for Lucio; it was not her + cousin Tybalt. Could it be that rash Montague who—Would he dare? + Here, on the very points of their swords? The stream of maskers ebbed and + flowed and surged around them, and the music began again, and Juliet + listened and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, sir,” she cried, at last, “that speak our tongue with + feigned accent?” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger; an idler in Verona, though not a gay one—a black + butterfly.” + </p> + <p> + “Our Italian sun will gild your wings for you. Black edged with gilt goes + gay.” + </p> + <p> + “I am already not so sad-colored as I was.” + </p> + <p> + “I would fain see your face, sir; if it match your voice, it needs must be + a kindly one.” + </p> + <p> + “I would we could change faces.” + </p> + <p> + “So we shall at supper!” + </p> + <p> + “And hearts, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I would not give a merry heart for a sorrowful one; but I will quit + my mask, and you yours; yet,” and she spoke under her breath, “if you are, + as I think, a gentleman of Verona—a Montague—do not unmask.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not of Verona, lady; no one knows me here;” and Hamlet threw back + the hood of his domino. Juliet held her mask aside for a moment, and the + two stood looking into each other's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Lady, we have in faith changed faces, at least as I shall carry yours + forever in my memory.” + </p> + <p> + “And I yours, sir,” said Juliet, softly, “wishing it looked not so pale + and melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + “Hamlet,” whispered Mercutio, plucking at his friend's skirt, “the fellow + there, talking with old Capulet—his wife's nephew, Tybalt, a + quarrelsome dog—suspects we are Montagues. Let us get out of this + peaceably, like soldiers who are too much gentlemen to cause a brawl under + a host's roof.” + </p> + <p> + With this Mercutio pushed Hamlet to the door, where they were joined by + Benvolio. + </p> + <p> + Juliet, with her eyes fixed upon the retreating maskers, stretched out her + hand and grasped the arm of an ancient serving-woman who happened to be + passing. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, good Nurse! go ask his name of yonder gentleman. Nay, not the one + in green, dear! but he that hath the black domino and purple mask. What, + did I touch your poor rheumatic arm? Ah, go now, sweet Nurse!” + </p> + <p> + As the Nurse hobbled off querulously on her errand, Juliet murmured to + herself an old rhyme she knew:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If he be married, + My grave is like to be my wedding bed!” + </pre> + <p> + When Hamlet got back to his own chambers he sat on the edge of his couch + in a brown study. The silvery moonlight, struggling through the swaying + branches of a tree outside the window, drifted doubtfully into the room, + and made a parody of that fleecy veil which erewhile had floated about the + lissome form of the lovely Capulet. That he loved her, and must tell her + that he loved her, was a foregone conclusion; but how should he contrive + to see Juliet again? No one knew him in Verona; he had carefully preserved + his incognito; even Mercutio regarded him as simply a young gentleman from + Denmark, taking his ease in a foreign city. Presented, by Mercutio, as a + rich Danish tourist, the Capulets would receive him courteously, of + course; as a visitor, but not as a suitor. It was in another character + that he must be presented—his own. + </p> + <p> + He was pondering what steps he could take to establish his identity, when + he remembered the two or three letters which he had stuffed into his + wallet on quitting Elsi-nore. He lighted a taper, and began examining the + papers. Among them were the half dozen billet-doux which Ophelia had + returned to him the night before his departure. They were, neatly tied + together by a length of black ribbon, to which was attached a sprig of + rosemary. + </p> + <p> + “That was just like Ophelia!” muttered the young man, tossing the package + into the wallet again; “she was always having cheerful ideas like that.” + </p> + <p> + How long ago seemed the night she had handed him these love-letters, in + her demure little way! How misty and remote seemed everything connected + with the old life at Elsinore! His father's death, his mother's marriage, + his anguish and isolation—they were like things that had befallen + somebody else. There was something incredible, too, in his present + situation. Was he dreaming? Was he really in Italy, and in love? + </p> + <p> + He hastily bent forward and picked up a square folded paper lying half + concealed under the others. + </p> + <p> + “How could I have forgotten it!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + It was a missive addressed, in Horatio's angular hand, to the Signior + Capulet of Verona, containing a few lines of introduction from Horatio, + whose father had dealings with some of the rich Lombardy merchants and + knew many of the leading families in the city. With this and several + epistles, preserved by chance, written to him by Queen Gertrude while he + was at the university, Hamlet saw that he would have no difficulty in + proving to the Capulets that he was the Prince of Denmark. + </p> + <p> + At an unseemly hour the next morning Mercutio was roused from his slumbers + by Hamlet, who counted every minute a hundred years until he saw Juliet. + Mercutio did not take this interruption too patiently, for the honest + humorist was very serious as a sleeper; but his equilibrium was quickly + restored by Hamlet's revelation. + </p> + <p> + The friends were long closeted together, and at the proper, ceremonious + hour for visitors they repaired to the house of Capulet, who did not hide + his sense of the honor done him by the prince. With scarcely any prelude + Hamlet unfolded the motive of his visit, and was listened to with rapt + attention by old Capulet, who inwardly blessed his stars that he had not + given his daughter's hand to the County Paris, as he was on the point of + doing. The ladies were not visible on this occasion; the fatigues of the + ball overnight, etc.; but that same evening Hamlet was accorded an + interview with Juliet and Lady Capulet, and a few days subsequently all + Verona was talking of nothing but the new engagement. + </p> + <p> + The destructive Tybalt scowled at first, and twirled his fierce mustache, + and young Paris took to writing dejected poetry; but they both soon + recovered their serenity, seeing that nobody minded them, and went + together arm in arm to pay their respects to Hamlet. + </p> + <p> + A new life began now for Hamlet—-he shed his inky cloak, and came + out in a doublet of insolent splendor, looking like a dagger-handle newly + gilt. With his funereal gear he appeared to have thrown off something of + his sepulchral gloom. It was impossible to be gloomy with Juliet, in whom + each day developed some sunny charm un-guessed before. Her freshness and + coquettish candor were constant surprises. She had had many lovers, and + she confessed them to Hamlet in the prettiest way. “Perhaps, my dear,” she + said to him one evening, with an ineffable smile, “I might have liked + young Romeo very well, but the family were so opposed to it from the very + first. And then he was so—so demonstrative, don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet had known of Romeo's futile passion, but he had not been aware + until then that his betrothed was the heroine of the balcony adventure. On + leaving Juliet he-went to look up the Montague; not for the purpose of + crossing rapiers with him, as another man might have done, but to + compliment him on his unexceptionable taste in admiring so rare a lady. + </p> + <p> + But Romeo had disappeared in a most unaccountable manner, and his family + were in great tribulation concerning him. It was thought that perhaps the + unrelenting Rosaline (who had been Juliet's frigid predecessor) had + relented, and Montague's man Abram was dispatched to seek Romeo at her + residence; but the Lady Rosaline, who was embroidering on her piazza, + placidly denied all knowledge of him. It was then feared that he had + fallen in one of the customary encounters; but there had been no fight, + and nobody had been killed on either side for nearly twelve hours. + Nevertheless, his exit had the appearance of being final. When Hamlet + questioned Mercutio, the honest soldier laughed and stroked his blonde + mustache. + </p> + <p> + “The boy has gone off in a heat, I don't know where—to the icy ends + of the earth, I believe, to cool himself.” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet regretted that Romeo should have had any feeling in the matter; but + regret was a bitter weed that did not thrive well in the atmosphere in + which the fortunate lover was moving. He saw Juliet every day, and there + was not a fleck upon his happiness, unless it was the garrulous Nurse, + against whom Hamlet had taken a singular prejudice. He considered her a + tiresome old person, not too decent in her discourse at times, and advised + Juliet to get rid of her; but the ancient serving-woman had been in the + family for years, and it was not quite expedient to discharge her at that + late day. + </p> + <p> + With the subtile penetration of old age the Nurse instantly detected + Hamlet's dislike, and returned it heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ladybird,” she cried one night, “ah, well-a-day! you know not how to + choose a man. An I could choose for you, Jule! By God's lady, there's + Signior Mercutio, a brave gentleman, a merry gentleman, and a virtuous, I + warrant ye, whose little finger-joint is worth all the body of this + blackbird prince, dropping down from Lord knows where to fly off with the + sweetest bit of flesh in Verona. Marry, come up!” + </p> + <p> + But this was only a ripple on the stream that flowed so smoothly. Now and + then, indeed, Hamlet felt called upon playfully to chide Juliet for her + extravagance of language, as when, for instance, she prayed that when he + died he might be cut out in little stars to deck the face of night. Hamlet + objected, under any circumstances, to being cut out in little stars for + any illuminating purposes whatsoever. Once she suggested to her lover that + he should come to the garden after the family retired, and she would speak + with him a moment from the balcony. Now, as there was no obstacle to their + seeing each other whenever they pleased, and as Hamlet was of a nice sense + of honor, and since his engagement a most exquisite practicer of + propriety, he did not encourage Juliet in her thoughtlessness. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he cried, lifting his finger at her reprovingly, “romantic again!” + </p> + <p> + This was their nearest approach to a lovers' quarrel. The next day Hamlet + brought her, as peace-offering, a slender gold flask curiously wrought in + niello, which he had had filled with a costly odor at an apothecary's as + he came along. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw so lean a thing as that same culler of simples,” said Hamlet, + laughing; “a matter of ribs and shanks, a mere skeleton painted black. It + is a rare essence, though. He told me its barbaric botanical name, but it + escapes me.” + </p> + <p> + “That which we call a rose,” said Juliet, holding the perfumery to her + nostrils and inclining herself prettily towards him, “would smell as sweet + by any other name.” + </p> + <p> + O Youth and Love! O fortunate Time! + </p> + <p> + There was a banquet almost every night at the Capulets', and the + Montagues, up the street, kept their blinds drawn down, and Lady Montague, + who had four marriageable, tawny daughters on her hands, was livid with + envy at her neighbor's success. She would rather have had two or three + Montagues prodded through the body than that the prince should have gone + to the rival house. + </p> + <p> + Happy Prince! + </p> + <p> + If Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Laertes, and the rest of the dismal + people at Elsinore, could have seen him now, they would not have known + him. Where were his wan looks and biting speeches? His eyes were no longer + filled with mournful speculation. He went in glad apparel, and took the + sunshine as his natural inheritance. If he ever fell into moodiness—it + was partly constitutional with him—the shadow fled away at the first + approach of that “loveliest weight on lightest foot.” The sweet Veronese + had nestled in his empty heart, and filled it with music. The ghosts and + visions that used to haunt him were laid forever by Juliet's magic. + </p> + <p> + Happy Juliet! + </p> + <p> + Her beauty had taken a new gloss. The bud bad grown into a flower, + redeeming the promises of the bud. If her heart beat less wildly, it + throbbed more strongly. If she had given Hamlet of her superabundance of + spirits, he had given her of his wisdom and discretion. She had always + been a great favorite in society; but Verona thought her ravishing now. + The mantua-makers cut their dresses by her patterns, and when she wore + turquoise, garnets went ont of style. Instead of the groans and tears, and + all those distressing events which might possibly have happened if Juliet + had persisted in loving Romeo—listen to her laugh and behold her + merry eyes! + </p> + <p> + Every morning either Peter or Gregory might have been seen going up + Hamlet's staircase with a note from Juliet—she had ceased to send + the Nurse on discovering her lover's antipathy to that person—and + some minutes later either Gregory or Peter might have been observed coming + down the staircase with a missive from Hamlet. Juliet had detected his + gift for verse, and insisted, rather capriciously, on having all his + replies in that shape. Hamlet humored her, though he was often hard put to + it; for the Muse is a coy immortal, and will not always come when she is + wanted. Sometimes he was forced to fall back upon previous efforts, as + when he translated these lines into very choice Italian:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Doubt thou the stars are fire, + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt Truth to be a liar, + But never doubt I love.” + </pre> + <p> + To be sure, he had originally composed this quatrain for Ophelia; but what + would you have? He had scarcely meant it then; he meant it now; besides, a + felicitous rhyme never goes out of fashion. It always fits. + </p> + <p> + While transcribing the verse his thoughts naturally reverted to Ophelia, + for the little poesy was full of a faint scent of the past, like a pressed + flower. His conscience did not prick him at all. How fortunate for him and + for her that matters had gone no further between them? Predisposed to + melancholy, and inheriting a not very strong mind from her father, Ophelia + was a lady who needed cheering up, if ever poor lady did. He, Hamlet, was + the last man on the globe with whom she should have had any tender + affiliation. If they had wed, they would have caught each other's + despondency, and died, like a pair of sick ravens, within a fortnight. + What had become of her? Had she gone into a nunnery? He would make her + abbess, if he ever returned to Elsinore. + </p> + <p> + After a month or two of courtship, there being no earthly reason to + prolong it, Hamlet and Juliet were privately married in the Franciscan + Chapel, Friar Laurence officiating; but there was a grand banquet that + night at the Capulets', to which all Verona went. At Hamlet's + intercession, the Montagues were courteously asked to this festival. To + the amazement of every one the Montagues accepted the invitation and came, + and were treated royally, and the long, lamentable feud—it would + have sorely puzzled either house to explain what it was all about—was + at an end. The adherents of the Capulets and the Montagues were forbidden + on the spot to bite any more thumbs at each other. + </p> + <p> + “It will detract from the general gayety of the town,” Mercutio remarked. + “Signior Tybalt, my friend, I shall never have the pleasure of running you + through the diaphragm; a cup of wine with you!” + </p> + <p> + The guests were still at supper in the great pavilion erected in the + garden, which was as light as day with the glare of innumerable flambeaux + set among the shrubbery. Hamlet and Juliet, with several others, had + withdrawn from the tables, and were standing in the doorway of the + pavilion, when Hamlet's glance fell upon the familiar form of a young man + who stood with one foot on the lower step, holding his plumed bonnet in + his hand. His hose and doublet were travel-worn, but his honest face was + as fresh as daybreak. + </p> + <p> + “What! Horatio?” + </p> + <p> + “The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my good friend: I 'll change that name with you. What brings you to + Verona?” + </p> + <p> + “I fetch you news, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news? Then the king is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “The king lives, but Ophelia is no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Ophelia dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Not so, my lord; she 's married.” + </p> + <p> + “I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student.” + </p> + <p> + “As I do live, my honored lord, 't is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Married, say you?” + </p> + <p> + “Married to him that sent me hither—a gentleman of winning ways and + a most choice conceit, the scion of a noble house here in Verona—one + Romeo.” + </p> + <p> + The oddest little expression flitted over Juliet's face. There was never + woman yet, even on her bridal day, could forgive a jilted lover marrying. + </p> + <p> + “Ophelia wed!” murmured the bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the lady, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent well,” replied Hamlet, turning to Juliet; “a most estimable + young person, the daughter of my father's chamberlain. She is rather given + to singing ballads of an elegiac nature,” added the prince, reflectingly, + “but our madcap Romeo will cure her of that. Methinks I see them now”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, where, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “In my mind's eye, Horatio, surrounded by their little ones—noble + youths and graceful maidens, in whom the impetuosity of the fiery Romeo is + tempered by the pensiveness of the fair Ophelia. I shall take it most + unkindly of them, love,” toying with Juliet's fingers, “if they do not + name their first boy Hamlet.” + </p> + <p> + It was just as my lord Hamlet finished speaking that the last horse-car + for Boston—providentially belated between Water-town and Mount + Auburn—swept round the curve of the track on which I was walking. + The amber glow of the car-lantern lighted up my figure in the gloom, the + driver gave a quick turn on the brake, and the conductor, making a sudden + dexterous clutch at the strap over his head, sounded the death-knell of my + fantasy as I stepped upon the rear platform. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Midnight Fantasy, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MIDNIGHT FANTASY *** + +***** This file should be named 23363-h.htm or 23363-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/3/6/23363/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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