Gothic Novel Project
Chapter One
To read more, send a request to Alan Spearman at aspearman@chathamhall.org
Crossing the Styx
Among my findings, perhaps the ones most necessary first to set before the public are two newspaper accounts, written by a reporter who was sent by his paper, The Richmond Daily Trumpet, to investigate the weird and, some believe, fantastic occurrences in P---County in the winter of 1876. As far as is possible, I will let the following materials speak for themselves; I will intrude upon the reader's patience only when explanations or links seem absolutely necessary. (Editor's Note)
Mystery in the Foothills.
Fantastic Happenings and Weird Omens--The Lay of the Land--The Local Population in Fear.
Special Dispatch to the Richmond Daily Trumpet.
December 5, 1876
At about 5:00 this afternoon, this correspondent found himself crossing a stream made particularly sluggish by the recent frigid weather,--weather unaccustomed this early in any part of the Dominion, but especially surprising in its extremity in these environs.
As I crossed the "singularly dreary tract of land" on my way to the small town of C--- in P---- County, a full moon was rising in the East. Surveying the land which stretched in front of me in its reflected light, I myself reflected upon the rumors which have begun to reach the Capital regarding the strange events which seem to be occurring here. Before I recount some of the chief and most provocative of these rumors, however, let me set the scene.
The town of C------ is surrounded by rolling hills, farmland, forests, and low-lying swamps. From one of the low hills adjacent to the tarn-like pond into which the aforementioned stream debouches, one can see Mansfield Plantation, the seat of the Toombs family--a clan that has enjoyed considerable fame and reputation since long before the recent Conflict. It has been rumored that since their establishment of Mansfield, since the very first patriarch set foot in the province, the Toombses have ruled their domain with a far less than benevolent hand. Should one seek for evidence of poetic--or divine--justice in this our fallen world, the present state of Mansfield might very well be held up as an example of its presence.
Mansfield today is a scene of decrepitude and decay--physical, certainly, but--to all common belief--moral as well. The atmosphere around the old place on this December afternoon is dark and cold, to be sure, but a miasma of despair and loss--pronounced even for this part of our ravaged country-- seems to have settled on the land.
The plantation has generated a great deal of local folk legend (to which I will return in future installments), but rumors of quite contemporary weird happenings have reached even the drawing rooms of Richmond, Washington, and Philadelphia.
I will recount the most lurid and incredible story first: Someone or something (which, according to those who claim to have seen it, looks like a huge, dark, and hairy man) seems to be living in the bottomlands near C-----. Accompanying this phantom presence are strange and unexplainable lights, often seen at night in the forests around Mansfield Plantation. The existence of these phenomena may, of course, be politely dismissed by all but the most credulous.
Something which may not be so easily dismissed, however, is the undeniable fact that the forests of P--- County now seem strangely silent—most of the wild animals and birds have disappeared; even livestock and farm animals are vanishing or turning up dead—many victims of apparent exsanguination.
Also undeniable is the fact that cryptic messages--scrawled in blood--whether human or animal no one may say-- frequently appear on the walls of houses and barns.
The combination of all of these rumors and occurrences has resulted in depopulation of much of the county. Most of the countrypeople who are able to leave are leaving the environs of Mansfield as quickly as they can.
In my next installment I will introduce some of the inhabitants of this strange land--those who have chosen to stay.
(N.B., my readers may have recognized certain allusions in the description of this land, itself so "out of space and out of time), to the landscapes of one of the more imaginative writers associated with our State. Such references and insinuations are indeed intentional. This (dare I say it) godforsaken land is reminiscent of nothing so much as the imagined world of Mr. Poe come to LIFE--or something near it!
Mystery in the Foothills,Cont.
The Inhabitants of c---
both high and low-- hints of scandal.
Special Dispatch to the Richmond Daily Trumpet.
December 12, 1876
If this community may be said to have a moral and spiritual mainstay, that honorable designation must, it seems, be afforded to the family of the Arnolds. Colonel and Mrs. Arnold, along with their two children, Cedric and Scarlett.
Their home on Main Street is the center for what little social life remains in the town. The Colonel now serves as Judge for the local circuit court, and he and his wife are regarded as good and social hosts by the remnant population. Mrs. Beverley Arnold serves as the link between the Arnolds and the Toombs clan mentioned in my last installment, the lady being the younger sister of General Augustus Toombs. Cedric, the young scion of the Arnold family is currently enrolled at the state university in Charlottesville; his sister Scarlett--a delightful vision of girlish charm and loveliness--remains at home, much to the satisfaction of her parents. A spinster aunt named Ida, much devoted to charitable and improving efforts in her community, completes the domestic scene. The sober and honorable lives that the Arnolds present to the world seem to be compromised and blighted, though, by the recent strange occurrences, as well as by the legacy of the Toombs family and the gloomy Mansfield Plantation.
It is now requisite that we come to an acquaintance with the Toombs family, a clan whose influence on the life of this region seems to have been so exquisitely baneful. Your correspondent had the ambiguous fortune to meet the General on one of his rare trips to the Courthouse--which, we are told, is his sole destination on those very few occasions when he leaves the plantation. When I encountered him, he was apparently on his way to meet his solicitor, but he is obviously a man who offers few inroads to new acquaintance. We may only observe that he seems to suffer from a severe and painful case of gout, accompanied by the botheration of a large carbuncle on his cheek that irritates him constantly and particularly when he is in company. This correspondent experienced what is said to be the full extent of his efforts to communicate with his fellow man--a series of mumbled and incoherent responses to our attempts to introduce ourselves. We know little that is specific about the family at this point, aside from those bits of information gleaned from conversation with some of the locals.
The aged General lives with his equally aged and, we are told, long-suffering wife, Maria. We have also ascertained that a son, one Virgil, remains to the ancient pair. Rumors of scandal and dissolute behavior attend the young man, said to have matriculated recently at Harvard College in Massachusetts. Most surprising, though: we have come to understand that the old place is home also to a ward of the General's--the orphaned child of one of his officers who died in most honorable circumstances at the battle of the Wilderness.
The Arnolds are the Toombses’ closest relations, and together they constitute the entirety of the area's "quality." Though once close, the two families are rumored to have grown apart due to General Toombs’ erratic behavior, his occasional madness, and the constant state of uncertainty concerning the contents of his will.
One particular factor that--most unfavorably--influences public perception of the Toombs clan is the widely understood belief that the current patriarch has forced a pastor of his own choosing upon the local Methodist church, located next to the Courthouse. The prevailing atmosphere of gloom which has settled over the county has, it is obvious, infected the devotional spirit of its people--attendance at the church has long been poor, and its pastor lives in circumstances that can only be charitably described as modest.
We will limn the characteristics of other members of the community--the proprietress of the boarding house in which I am currently lodged, &.--as the needs of our continuing story dictate.
We may not say farewell to our readers, however, before we direct their attentions to those lowest on the social scale in the County. The poor black and white tenant farmers who continue to reside here live in deplorable conditions and are regrettably susceptible to disease, alcoholism, and opium abuse. Many members of this underclass have set up hardscrabble homesteads on lands formerly part of the Toombs plantation. Their sad plight may be said to epitomize the character of this whole area--which we now denominate the most unfortunate corner of the OLD DOMINION !
We now begin our acquaintance with the persons involved in the history of THE PLANTATION OF DESPAIR. I have chosen those letters from my collections most pertinent to the logical and rational presentation of the procession of events. I will, from this point, let the letters speak for themselves, adding comment only when I deem it absolutely necessary. We begin with a provocative letter from the rakish Virgil Toombs. (Editor's note)
December 4, 1879
My Dearest Scarlett,
I remember when you were just a girl, begging me to push you on the swing in the garden. You have grown into a most beauteous and delicate flower needing to be plucked from her safe heaven stem, to be enjoyed and worshiped for her beauty--Your lips crimson, hidden with a kiss, and your eyes aglow with righteousness. You are the sun and the air to me. One of my favorite authors, Mary Shelley, once was quoted as saying, “My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.” This quotation is how I envision our hopeful future relationship. My dearest Scarlett, I yearn to hear you speak my name with fondness and affection. I, a Harvard graduate obviously with an esteemed IQ , know true beauty when I see it. Your manner and beauty are far beyond compare with even the most beautiful of Parisian women. My father wishes to shield you from me, afraid I will commit a most dishonorable crime. But, I think it is my father who is the dishonorable one: is it not a crime to shield beauty so beautiful that it should be shared with the world? He holds you captive from me, he thinks you a girl but it’s his biggest mistake, for you are a woman, a woman who would make Venus herself blush with jealousy. I would take you on the greatest adventure of your life--to Love. I would give you the key to my heart if at any moment you wished it. I would love you and solely you for ever and eternity. This secret message I have valiantly sent to you in hopes of risking danger and reprimanding from my father, to show the true levels of my affection for you. You are my compass: without you, I would be lost!
Yours forever,
Virgil Toombs
