Green Tea, part 1

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Green Tea by Joseph Sheridan LeFanu
read by Chris Turtle, Part one prologue. Martin Hesselius, the

(00:26):
German physician. Though carefully educated in medicine and surgery, I
have never practiced either. The study of each continues nevertheless
to interest me profoundly. Neither idleness nor caprice caused my
secession from the honorable calling which I had just entered.
The cause was a very trifling scratch inflicted by a

(00:49):
dissecting knife. This trifle cost me the loss of two fingers,
amputated promptly, and the more painful loss of my health,
for I have never been quite well since, and have
seldom been twelve months together in the same place. In
my wanderings I became acquainted with doctor Martin Hesselius, a
wanderer like myself, like me, a physician, and like me,

(01:11):
an enthusiast in his profession, Unlike me in this that
his wanderings were voluntary, and he a man, if not
a fortune as we estimate fortune in England, at least
in what our forefathers used to term easy circumstances. He
was an old man when I first saw him, nearly
five and thirty years my senior in doctor Martin Hesselius,

(01:32):
I found my master. His knowledge was immense, His grasp
of the case was an intuition. He was the very
man to inspire a young enthusiast like me with awe
and delight. My admiration has stood the test of time
and survived the separation of death. I am sure it
was well founded. For nearly twenty years I acted as
his medical secretary. His immense collection of papers he has

(01:55):
left in my care to be arranged, indexed, and bound.
His treatment of some of these cases is curious, he
writes in two distinct characters. He describes what he saw
and heard as an intelligent layman might. And when, in
this style of narrative he had seen the patient either
through his own hall door to the light of day,
or through the gates of darkness to the caverns of
the dead, he returns upon the narrative, and, in the

(02:17):
terms of his art, and with all the force and
originality of genius, proceeds to the work of analysis, diagnosis,
and illustration. Here and there a case strikes me as
of a kind to amuse or horrify a lay reader
with an interest quite different from the peculiar one which
it may possess for an expert. With slight modification, chiefly
of language and of course a change of names, I

(02:40):
copy the following. The narrator is doctor Martin Hessilius. I
find it among the voluminous notes of cases which he
made during a tour in England about sixty four years ago.
It is related in a series of letters to his friend,
Professor van Leu of Leyden. The professor was not a physician,
but a chemist, and a man who read history and
metaphysics in medicine, and had in his day written a play.

(03:03):
The narrative is, therefore, if somewhat less valuable as a
medical record, necessarily written in a manner more likely to
interest an unlearned reader. These letters, from a memorandum attached,
appear to have been returned on the death of the
professor in eighteen nineteen to doctor Hesselius. They are written
some in English, some in French, but the greater part

(03:24):
in German. I am a faithful though I am conscious
by no means a graceful translator. And although here and
there I omit some passages and shorten others and disguised names,
I have interpolated nothing. Doctor Hesselius relates how he met
the reverend mister Jennings. The Reverend mister Jennings is tall

(03:45):
and thin. He is middle aged, and addresses with a natty,
old fashioned high Church precision. He is naturally a little stately,
but not at all stiff. His features, without being handsome,
are well formed, and their expression extremely kind, but also shy.
I met him one evening at Lady Mary Hayduke's. The
modesty and benevolence of his countenance are extremely prepossessing. We

(04:09):
were but a small party, and he joined agreeably enough
in the conversation. He seems to enjoy listening very much
more than contributing to the talk. But what he says
is always to the purpose and well said. He is
a great favorite of Lady Mary's, who it seems, consults
him upon many things, and thinks him the most happy
and blessed person on earth. Little she knows about him.

(04:33):
The reverend mister Jennings is a bachelor and has they say,
sixty thousand pounds in the funds. He is a charitable man,
he is most anxious to be actively employed in his
sacred profession. And yet, though always tolerably well elsewhere, when
he goes down to his vicarage in Warwickshire to engage
in the actual duties of his sacred calling, his health
soon fails him, and in a very strange way, so

(04:56):
says Lady Mary, there is no doubt to them, mister
Jennings health does break down in generally a sudden and
mysterious way, sometimes in the very act of officiating in
his old and pretty church at Kenless. It may be
his heart, it may be his brain. But it has
happened three or four times or oftener, that after proceeding
a certain way in the service, he has on a

(05:18):
sudden stopped short, and after a silence, apparently quite unable
to resume, he has fallen into solitary, inaudible prayer, his
hands and his eyes uplifted, and then pale as death,
and in the agitation of a strange shame and horror,
descended trembling and got into the vestry room, leaving his
congregation without explanation to themselves. This occurred when his curate

(05:41):
was absent. When he goes down to Kenless now he
always takes care to provide a clergyman to share his
duty and to supply his place on the instant should
he become thus suddenly incapacitated. When mister Jennings breaks down
quite and beats a retreat from the vicarage and returns
to London, where in a dark street of Maacadilly he
inhabits a very narrow house, Lady Mary says that he

(06:03):
is always perfectly well. I have my opinions about that.
There are degrees, of course, we shall see. Mister Jennings
is a perfectly gentlemanlike man. People, how ever, remark something odd.
There's an impression, a little ambiguous, one thing which certainly
contributes to it. People, I think that remember, or perhaps

(06:26):
distinctly remark, But I did almost immediately. Mister Jennings has
a way of looking sidelong upon the carpet, as if
his eye follows the movements of something there. This, of
course is not always, It occurs only now and then,
but often enough to give a certain oddity. As I
have said, to his manner, and in this glance traveling

(06:47):
along the floor there is something both shy and anxious.
A medical philosopher, as you are good enough to call me,
elaborating theories by the aid of cases sought out by
himself and by him watched and scrutine eyes, with more
time at command, and consequently infinitely more minuteness than the
ordinary practitioner can afford. Falls insensibly into habits of observation

(07:08):
which accompany him everywhere, and are exercised, as some people
would say, impertinently, upon every subject that presents itself with
the least likelihood of rewarding inquiry. There was a promise
of this kind in the slight, timid, kindly but reserved
gentleman whom I met for the first time at this
agreeable little evening gathering. I observed, of course, more than

(07:29):
I here set down, But I reserve all that borders
on the technical for a strictly scientific paper. I may
remark that when I here speak of medical science, I
do so as I hope some day to see it
more generally understood, in a much more comprehensive sense than
its generally material treatment would warrant. I believe the entire

(07:50):
natural world is but the ultimate expression of that spiritual
world from which and which alone it has its life.
I believe that the essential man is a spirit, that
the spirit is an organized substance, but as different in
point of material from what we ordinarily understand by matter
as light or electricity, is that the material body is,
in the most literal sense, a vesture, and death consequently

(08:12):
no interruption of the living man's existence, but simply his
extrication from the natural body, a process which commences at
the moment of what we term death, and the completion
of which, at furthest a few days later, is the
resurrection in power. The person who weighs the consequences of
these positions will probably see their practical bearing upon medical science.

(08:35):
This is, however, by no means the proper place for
displaying the proofs and discussing the consequences of this too
generally unrecognized state of facts. In pursuance of my habit,
I was covertly observing mister Jennings with all my caution.
I think he perceived it, and I saw plainly that
he was as cautiously observing me. Lady Mary happened to

(08:55):
address me by my name as doctor Hessilius. I saw
that he glanced at me more more sharply, and then
became thoughtful. For a few minutes after this, as I
conversed with the gentleman at the other end of the room,
I saw him look at me more steadily and with
an interest which I thought I understood. I then saw
him take an opportunity of chatting with Lady Mary, and was,

(09:17):
as one always is, perfectly aware of being the subject
of a distant inquiry and answer. This tall clergyman approached
me by and by, and in a little time we
got into conversation. When two people who like reading and
no books and places having traveled, wish to discurse, it
is very strange if they can't find topics. It was
not accident that brought him near me and led him

(09:39):
into conversation. He knew German and had read my essays
on metaphysical medicine, which suggested more than they actually say.
This courteous man, gentle shy, plainly, a man of thought
and reading, who moving and talking among us, was not
altogether of us, and whom I already suspected of leading
a life whose transactions and alarms were care He concealed

(10:00):
with an impenetrable reserve from not only the world, but
from his best beloved friends, was cautiously weighing in his
own mind the idea of taking a certain step with
regard to me. I penetrated his thoughts without his being
aware of it, and was careful to say nothing which
could betray to his sensitive vigilance my suspicions respecting his position,

(10:21):
or my surmises about his plans respecting myself. We chatted
upon indifferent subjects for a time, but at last he
said it was very much interested by some paper of yours,
doctor Hesselius, upon what you term metaphysical medicine. I read
them in German ten or twelve years ago. Have they
been translated? No, I am sure they have not. I

(10:44):
should have heard they would have asked my leave. I
think I asked the publishers here a few months ago
to get the book for me in the original German.
But they tell me it is out of print. So
it is, and has been for some years. But it
flatters me as an author to find that you have
not forgotten my little book, although I added, laughing, ten

(11:05):
or twelve years is a considerable time to have managed
without it. But I suppose you have been turning the
subject over again in your mind, or something has happened
lately to revive your interest in it. At this remark,
accompanied by a glanced inquiry, a sudden embarrassment disturbed mister Jennings,
analogous to that which makes a young lady blush and
look foolish. He dropped his eyes and folded his hands together,

(11:27):
uneasily and looking oddly, And you would have said guiltily.
For a moment. I helped him out of his awkwardness
in the best way, by appearing not to observe it
and going straight on. I said. Those revivals of interest
in a subject happened to me often one book suggests another,
and often sends me back on a wild goose chase

(11:47):
over an interval of twenty years. But if you still
care to possess a copy, I shall be only too
happy to provide you. I have still got two or
three by me, and if you allow me to present one,
I shall be very much honored. You are very good, indeed,
he said, quite a disease. Again in a moment, I
almost despaired. I don't know how to thank you. Pray,

(12:09):
don't say a word. The thing is of really so
little worth that I'm only ashamed of having offered it,
and if you thank me any more, I shall throw
it into the fire in a fit of modesty, mister
Jennings laughed. He inquired where I was staying in London,
and after a little more conversation on a variety of subjects,
he took his departure two. The doctor questions Lady Mary,

(12:34):
and she answers. I like your vicar so much, Lady Mary,
said I, as soon as he was gone. He has read,
traveled and thought, and having also suffered, he ought to
be an accomplished companion. Sue he is. And better still,
he is a really good man, said she. His advice
is invaluable about my schools and all my little undertakings

(12:56):
at Dollbridge. And he's so painstaking, he takes so much trouble.
You have no idea wherever he thinks he can be
of use. He's so good natured and so sensible. It
is pleasant to hear so good an account of his
neighborly virtues. I can only testify to his being an
agreeable and gentle companion. And in addition to what you
have told me, I think I can tell you two

(13:16):
or three things about him, said I really. Yes. To
begin with, he's unmarried. Yes, that's right. Go on, he
has been writing, that is, he was, but for two
or three years. Perhaps he has not gone on with
his work. And the book was upon some rather abstract subject,

(13:36):
perhaps theology. Well he was writing a book, as you say,
I'm not quite sure what it was about, but only
that it was nothing that I cared for, very likely
or right? And he certainly did stop. Yes, and though
he only drank a little coffee here to night, he
likes tea, at least did like it extravagantly. Yes, that's

(13:59):
quite true. He drank green tea a good deal, didn't he.
I pursued, Well, that's very odd. Green tea was a
subject from which we used almost a quarrel. But he
has quite given that up, said I, so he has.
And now one more fact, his mother or his father?
Did you know them? Yes? Both. His father is only

(14:22):
ten years dead, and their place is near Dolbridge. We
knew them very well. She answered, Well, either his mother
or his father. I should rather think his father saw
a ghost. Said I. Well, you really are a conjurer,
doctor Hesselius conjuror or no, haven't I said, right, I answered, merrily,
you certainly have. And it was his father. He was

(14:45):
a silent, whimsical man, and used to bore my father
about his dreams, and at last he told him a
story about a ghost he had seen and talked with,
and a very odd story it was. I remembered it,
particularly because I was so afraid of him. This story
was long before he died, when I was quite a child,
and his ways were so silent and moping, and he
used to drop in sometimes in the dusk when I

(15:07):
was alone in the drawing room, and I used to
fancy there were ghosts about him. I smiled and nodded.
And now, having established my character as a conjurer, I
think I must say good night, said I. But how
did you find it out? By the planets? Of course,
as the gypsies do, I answered, and so gaily we
said good night. Next morning I sent the little book

(15:31):
he had been inquiring after, and the notes to mister Jennings,
And on returning late that evening I found that he
had called at my lodgings and left his card. He
asked whether I was at home, and asked at what
hour he would be most likely to find me. Does
he intend opening his case and consulting me professionally, as
they say, I hope so I have already conceived a

(15:53):
theory about him. It is supported by Lady Mary's answers
to my parting questions. I should like to ascertain more
from his own lips. But what can I do, consistent
with good breeding to invite a confession nothing. I rather
think he meditates one at all events, My dear Van Lou,
I shan't make myself difficult of access. I mean to

(16:15):
return his visit tomorrow. It will only be civil and
return for his politeness to ask to see him. Perhaps
something may come of it, whether much, very little or nothing.
My dear Van Lou, you shall hear three doctor Hesselius
picks up something in Latin books. Well, I have called

(16:37):
at Bolton Street. On inquiring at the door, I was
told by the servant that mister Jennings was engaged very
particularly with a gentleman, a clergyman from Kenless, his parish
in the country, intending to reserve my privilege and to
call again. I merely intimated that I should try another time,
and had turned to go when the servant begged my

(16:57):
pardon and asked me look at me a little more
attentively than well bred persons of his order usually do
whether I was Doctor Hesselius, And on learning that I was,
he said, perhaps, then, sir, he would allow me to
mention it to mister Jennings, for I am sure he
wishes to see you. The servant returned in a moment
with a message from mister Jennings, asking me to go

(17:19):
into his study, which was in effect his back drawing room,
and promised to be with me in a very few minutes.
This was really a study, almost a library. The room
was lofty, with two tall, slender windows and rich dark curtains.
It was much larger than I had expected, and stacked

(17:39):
with books on every side, from the floor to the ceiling.
The upper carpet, for to my tread it felt that
there were two or three, was a turkey carpet. My
steps fell noiselessly the way the bookcases stood out placed
the windows, particularly narrow ones, in deep recesses. The effect
of the room was, although extremely comfortable and even luxurious,

(18:01):
decidedly gloomy, and, aided by the silence, almost oppressive. Perhaps, however,
I ought to have allowed something for association. My mind
had connected peculiar ideas with mister Jennings. I stepped into
this perfectly silent room of a very silent house, with
a peculiar foreboding, and its darkness and solemn clothing of books,

(18:25):
for except where two narrow looking glasses were set in
the wall, they were everywhere helped this somber feeling. While
awaiting mister jennings arrival, I amused myself by looking into
some of the books with which his shells were laden.
Not among these, but immediately under them, with their backs
upwards on the floor, I lighted upon a complete set

(18:45):
of Swedenborg's Arcarna Celestia in the original Latin, a very
fine folio set bound in the Natalie livery, which theology
effects pure vellum, namely with gold letters and carmine edges.
There were paper markers, and several of these volumes. I
raised and set them one after the other upon the table,
and opening where these papers were placed, I read, in

(19:07):
the solemn Latin phraseology a series of sentences indicated by
a penciled line at the margin. Of these, I copy
here a few, translating them into English. When man's interior
site is opened, which is that of his spirit. Then
there appear the things of another life, which cannot possibly

(19:30):
be made visible to the bodily site by the internal sight.
It has been granted me to see the things that
are in the other life more clearly than I see
those that are in the world. From these considerations, it
is evident that external vision exists from interior vision, and
this from a vision still more interior. And so on.

(19:56):
There are with every man at least two evil spirits.
With wicked genii. There is also a fluent speech, but
harsh and grating. There is also among them a speech
which is not fluent, wherein the descent of the thoughts
is perceived as something secretly creeping along with it. The

(20:18):
evil spirits associated with man are indeed from the hells,
But when with man, they are not then in hell,
but are taken out. Thence the place where they then
are is in the midst between heaven and hell, and
is called the world of spirits. When the evil spirits
who are with man are in that world, they are
not in any infernal torment, but in every thought and

(20:41):
affection of the man, and so in all that the
man himself enjoys. But when they are emitted into their hell,
they return to their former state. If evil spirits could
perceive that they were associated with man, and yet that
they were spirits separated from him, if they could flew
into the things of his body, they would attempt by

(21:02):
a thousand means to destroy him, for they hate man
with a deadly hatred. Knowing therefore that I was a
man in the body, they were continually striving to destroy me,
not as to the body only, but especially as to
the soul. For to destroy any man or spirit is

(21:23):
the very delight of the life of all who are
in Hell. But I have been continually protected by the Lord.
Hence it appears how dangerous it is for man to
be in a living consult with spirits, unless he be
in the good of faith. Nothing is more carefully guarded
from the knowledge of associate spirits than their being thus

(21:44):
conjoined with a man, For if they knew it, they
would speak to him with the intention to destroy him.
The delight of hell is to do evil to man,
and to hasten his eternal ruin. A long note written
with a very sharp and fine pencil in mister Jennings's

(22:06):
neat hand at the foot of the page caught to
my eye, expecting his criticism upon the text, I read
a word or two and stopped, for it was something
quite different, and began with these words, Deus misery ar tourmee,
May God compassionate me. Thus warned of its private nature,

(22:28):
I averted my eyes and shut the book, replacing all
the volumes as I had found them, except one which
interested me, and in which, as men studius and solitary
in their habits will do, I grew so absorbed as
to take no cognisance of the outer world, nor to
remember where I was. I was reading some pages which
refer to representatives and correspondents in the technical language of Swedenborg,

(22:54):
and had arrived at a passage, the substance of which
is that evil spirits, when seen by other eyes than
those of their infernal associates, present themselves by correspondence in
the shape of the beast ferah, which represents their particular
lust and life in aspect direful and atrocious. This is
a long passage and particularizes a number of those bestial forms.

(23:22):
Four four eyes were reading the passage. I was running
the head of my pencil case along the line as
I read it, and something caused me to raise my eyes.
Directly before me was one of the mirrors I have mentioned,
in which I saw reflected the tall shape of my
friend mister Jennings, leaning over my shoulder and reading the

(23:45):
page at which I was busy, and with a face
so dark and wild that I should hardly have known him.
I turned and rose. He stood erect also, and with
an effort laughed a little saying. I came in and
asked how you did, but without succeeding in awaking you
from your book, so I could not restrain my curiosity,
and very impertinently, I am afraid, peeped over your shoulder.

(24:08):
This is not your first time of looking into those pages.
You have looked into sweden Borg, no doubt, long ago.
Oh dear, yes, I owe Swedenborg a great deal. You
will discover traces of him in the little Book on
Metaphysical Medicine, which you were so good as to remember.
Although my friend affected a gaiety of manner, there was
a slight flush in his face, and I could perceive

(24:31):
that he was inwardly much perturbed. I'm scarcely yet qualified.
I know so little of Swedenborg. I've only had them
a fortnight, he answered, and I think they are rather
likely to make a solitary man nervous. That is, judging
from the very little I have read. I don't say
they have made me so, he laughed. And I am
so very much obliged for the book. I hope you

(24:51):
got my note. I made all proper acknowledgments and modest disclaimers.
I never read a book that I go with so
entirely is that of yours, he continued. I saw at
once that there is more in it than is quite unfolded.
Do you know, doctor Harley, he asked, rather abruptly, in
passing the editor remarks that the physician here named was

(25:12):
one of the most eminent who had ever practiced in England.
I did, having exchanged letters with him, and experienced from
him great courtesy and considerable assistance during my visits to England.
I think that the man one of the greatest fools
I ever met in my life, said mister Jennings. This
was the first time I had ever heard him say

(25:33):
a sharp thing of anybody, and such a term applied
to so high a name A little startled me. Really,
And in what way? I asked in his profession he answered,
I smiled I mean this, he said. He seems to
me one half blind. I mean one half of all
he looks at is dark, preternaturally bright and vivid. All

(25:55):
the rest and the worst of it is it seems wilful.
I can't him, I mean he won't. I've had some
experience of him as a physician, but I look on
him as in that sense no better than a paralytic mind,
an intellect half dead. I'll tell you, I know I
shall sometime all about it, he said, with a little agitation,

(26:16):
if you stay some months longer in England. If I
should be out of town during your stay for a
little time, would you allow me to trouble you with
a letter? I should be only too happy, I assured him,
Very good of you. I am so utterly dissatisfied with Harley.
A little leaning to the materialistic school, I said, A
mere materialist, he corrected me. You can't think how that

(26:37):
sort of thing worries one who knows better. You won't
tell anyone any of my friends. You know that I
am hippish now, for instance. No one knows, not even
Lady Mary, that I've seen doctor Harley or any other doctor.
So pray don't mention it, and if I should have
any threatening of attack, you'll kindly let me write, or
should I be in town, have a little talk with you.

(27:01):
I was full of conjecture, and unconsciously I found I
had fixed my eyes gravely on him, for he lowered
his for a moment, and he said, I see you
think I might as well tell you now or else
You are forming a conjecture, But you may as well
give it up. If you were guessing all the rest
of your life, you would never hit on it. He
shook his head, smiling, and over that wintry sunshine, a

(27:25):
black cloud suddenly came down, and he drew his breath
in through his teeth, as men do in pain. Sorry,
of course, to learn that you apprehend occasion to consult
any of us, But command me when and how you like.
And I need not assure you that your confidence is sacred.
He then talked of quite other things, and in a

(27:46):
comparatively cheerful way, And after a little time I took
my leave. Five Doctor Hessilius is summoned to Richmond. We
parted cheerfully, but he was not cheerful, nor was I.
There are certain expressions of that powerful organ of spirit,

(28:07):
the human face, which, although I have seen them often
and possess a doctor's nerve, yet disturb me profoundly. One
look of mister Jennings haunted me. It had seized my
imagination with so dismal a power that I changed my
plans for the evening and went to the opera, feeling
that I wanted a change of ideas. I heard nothing

(28:28):
of or from him for two or three days, when
a note in his hand reached me. It was cheerful
and full of hope. He said that he had been
for some little time so much better, quite well, in fact,
that he was going to make a little experiment and
run down for a month or so to his parish
to try whether a little work might not quite set
him up. There was in it a fervent religious expression

(28:51):
of gratitude for his restoration, as he now almost hoped
he might call it. A day or two later I
saw Lady Mary, who repeated what his note had announced,
and told me that he was actually in Warwickshire, having
resumed his clerical duties at Kenless. And she answered, I
begin to think that he is really perfectly well, and
that there never was anything the matter more than nerves

(29:14):
and fancy we are all nervous. But I fancy there
is nothing like a little hard work for that kind
of weakness, and he's made up his mind to try it.
I should not be surprised if he did not come
back for a year. Notwithstanding all this confidence. Only two
days later I had this note, dated from his house
off Piccadilly. Dear Sir, I have returned disappointed. If I

(29:39):
should feel it all able to see you, I shall
write to ask you kindly to call. At present I
am too low and in fact simply unable to say
all I wish to say. Pray, don't mention my name
to my friends. I can see no one by, and
by please God you shall hear from me. I mean
to take a run into Shropshire, where some of my
people are. God bless you, may we on my return

(30:03):
meet more happily than I can now write. About a
week after this, I saw Lady Mary in her own house,
the last person, she said, left in town and just
on the wing for Brighton for the London season was
quite over. She told me that she had heard from
mister Jennings's niece Martha in Shropshire. There was nothing to

(30:23):
be gathered from her letter more than that he was
low and nervous. In those words of which healthy people
think so lightly. What a world of suffering is sometimes hidden.
Nearly five weeks had passed without any further news of
mister Jennings. At the end of that time I received
a note from him. He wrote, I have been in

(30:44):
the country and have had a change of air, change
of scene, change of faces, change of everything, and in
everything but myself. I have made up my mind so
far as the most irresolute creature on earth can do it,
to tell my case fully to you, if your engagements
will permit, pray come to me today, tomorrow or the
next day. But pray defer as little as possible. You

(31:07):
know not how much I need help. I have a
quiet house at Richmond, where I now am. Perhaps you
can manage to come to dinner, or to luncheon, or
even to tea. You shall have no trouble in finding
me out. The servant at Bolton Street who takes this
note will have a carriage at your door at any
hour you please, and I am always to be found.

(31:28):
You will say that I ought not to be alone.
I have tried everything. Come and see. I called up
the servant and decided on going out the same evening,
which accordingly I did. He would have been much better
in a lodging house or hotel, I thought, as I
drove up through a short double row of somber elms,

(31:48):
to a very old fashioned brick house, darkened by the
foliage of these trees which overtopped nearly surrounded it. It
was a perverse choice, for nothing could be imagined more
trees and silent. The house I found belonged to him.
He had stayed for a day or two in town,
and finding it for some cause insupportable, he had come

(32:09):
out here, probably because, being furnished and his own, he
was relieved of the thought and delay of selection by
coming here. The sun had already set, and the red
reflected light of the western sky illuminated the scene with
the peculiar effect with which we are all familiar. The
hall seemed very dark, but getting to the back drawing room,

(32:30):
whose windows commanded the west, I was again in the
same dusky light. I sat down, looking out upon the
richly wooded landscape that glowed in the grand and melancholy light,
which was every moment fading. The corners of the room
were already dark. All was growing dim, and the gloom

(32:51):
was insensibly toning. My mind, already prepared for what was sinister,
I was waiting alone for his arrival, which soon took place.
The door communicating with the front room opened, and the
tall figure of mister Jennings, faintly seen in the ruddy twilight,
came with quiet, stealthy steps into the room. We shook hands,

(33:16):
and taking a chair to the window, where there was
still light enough to enable us to see each other's faces.
He sat down beside me, and, placing his hand upon
my arm, with scarcely a word of preface, began his
narrative six, How mister Jennings met his companion. The faint

(33:38):
glow of the west, the pomp of the then lonely
woods of Richmond, were before us, behind and about us
the darkening room, and on the stony face of the sufferer.
For the character of his face, the still gentle and sweet,
was changed, rested that dim, odd glow which seems to
descend and produce where it touches, lights, sudden though faint,

(33:58):
which are lost almost without gradation in darkness. The silence,
too was utter, not a distant wheel or bark or
whistle from without and within the depressing stillness of an
invalid bachelor's house. I guessed well the nature, though not
even vaguely, the particulars of the revelations I was about

(34:19):
to receive from that fixed face of suffering, that so
oddly flushed, stood out like a portrait of Shalkan's before
its background of darkness. It began, he said, on the
fifteenth of October, three years and eleven weeks ago and
two days. I keep very accurate count for every days torment.

(34:42):
If I leave anywhere at chasm in my narrative, tell
me about four years ago I began a work which
had cost me very much thought and reading. It was
upon the religious metaphysics of the ancients, I know, said
I the actual religion of educated and thinking Pagani, quite
apart from symbolic worship. A wide and very interesting field, yes,

(35:06):
but not good for the mind. The Christian mind, I mean.
Paganism is all bounds together in essential unity and with
evil sympathy. Their religion involves their art and both their
manners and the subject as it is a degrading fascination
at the nemesis shore God forgive me. I wrote a

(35:26):
great deal. I wrote late at night. I was always
thinking on the subject, walking about wherever I was, everywhere
it thoroughly infected me. You are to remember that all
the material ideas connected with it were more or less
of the beautiful, The subject itself delightfully interesting. And I then,
without a care, he sighed heavily. I believe that everyone

(35:51):
who sets about writing in earnest does his work as
a friend of mine phrased it on something tea or
coffee or tobacco. Suppose there is a material waste that
should be hourly supplied in such occupations, or that we
should grow too abstracted, and the mind, as it were,
pass out of the body, unless it were reminded often
of the connection by actual sensation. At all events, I

(36:14):
felt the want and I supplied it. Tea was my companion.
At first, the ordinary black tea made in the usual way,
not too strong. But I drank a good deal and
increased its strength as I went on. I never experienced
an uncomfortable symptom from it. I began to take a
little green tea. I have found the effect pleasanter. It

(36:37):
cleared and intensified the power of thought, so I had
come to take it frequently, but not stronger than one
might take it for pleasure. I wrote a great deal
out here. It was so quiet, and in this room
I used to sit up very late, and it became
a habit with me to sip my tea and green
tea every now and then as my work proceeded. I

(37:00):
had little kettle on my table that swung over a
lamp and made tea two or three times between eleven
o'clock and two or three in the morning. My hours
of going to bed, I used to go to town
every day. I was not a monk, and although I
spent an hour or two in a library hunting up
authorities and looking out lights within my theme, I was
in no morbid state, as far as I can judge.

(37:22):
I met my friends pretty much as usual and enjoyed
their society, and on the whole existence had never been
I think so pleasant. Before. I had met with a
man who had some odd old books, German editions and
medieval Latin, and I was only too happy to be
permitted access to them. This obliging person's books were in

(37:42):
the city, a very out of the way part of it.
I had rather overstayed my intended hour, and on coming out,
seeing no cab near, I was tempted to get into
the omnibus which used to drive past this house. It
was darker than this by the time the bus had
reached an old house, you may have remarked, with four
popular at each side of the door, and there the
last passenger but myself got out. We drove along rather faster.

(38:07):
It was twilight now. I leaned back in my corner
next the door, ruminating pleasantly. The interior of the omnibus
was nearly dark. I had observed in the corner opposite
to me, at the other side, and at the end
next the horses, two small circular reflections, as it seemed
to me, of a reddish light. They were about two

(38:28):
inches apart, and about the size of those small brass
buttons that yachting men used to put upon their jackets.
I began to speculate, as listless men will upon this trifle,
as it seemed from what center did that faint but
deep red light come, and from what glass beads, buttons,
toy decorations was it reflected? We were lumbering along gently,

(38:52):
having nearly a mile still to go. I had not
solved the puzzle, and it became in another minute more
odd for these two lumine points, where a sudden jerk
descended near the floor, keeping still their relative distance and
horizontal position. And then as suddenly, they rose to the
level of the seat on which I was sitting, and
I saw them no more. My curiosity was now really excited,

(39:16):
And before he had time to think, I saw again
those two dull lamps again together near the floor. Again
they disappeared, and again in their old corner. I saw them, so,
keeping my eyes upon them, I edged quietly up my
own side towards the end at which I still saw
these tiny disks of red. There was very little light
in the bus. It was nearly dark. I leaned forward

(39:40):
to aid my endeavor to discover what these little circles
really were. They shifted their position a little as I
did so. I began now to perceive an outline of
something black, and I soon saw, with tolerable distinctness, the
outline of a small black monkey, pushing its face forward
in mimicry to meet mine. Those were its eyes, and

(40:01):
I now dimly saw its teeth grinning at me. I
drew back not knowing whether it might not meditate a spring.
I fancied that one of the passengers had forgot this
ugly pet, and wishing to ascertain something of its temper,
though not caring to trust my fingers to it, I
poked my umbrella softly towards it. It remained immovable up

(40:22):
to it, through it, for through it, and back and forward.
It passed without the slightest resistance. I can't in the
least convey to you the kind of horror that I
felt when I had ascertained that the thing was an illusion,
as I then supposed, there came a misgiving about myself
and a terror that fascinated me in impotence to remove

(40:43):
my gaze from the eyes of the brute for some moments.
As I looked, it made a little skip back quite
into the corner, and I, in a panic, found myself
at the door, having put my head out, drawing deep
breaths of the outer air, and staring at the lights
and trees we were passing. To glad to reassure myself
of reality, I stopped the bus and got out. I

(41:05):
perceived the man looking oddly at me as I passed him.
I dare say there was something unusual in my looks
and manner, for I had never felt so strangely before
the end of Part one of Green Tea by Joseph
Sheridan l'a fannou