((First posted Oct 2013))
Many legends have a basis in fact. Such is the case in this next Halloween Tale. There
was a Samuel Shute who was Royal Governor of Massachusetts from 1716 to 1723, and
there was an outbreak of smallpox in Boston over the winter of 1721-1722 that claimed
over 800 lives. Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote a shot story about "Lady Eleanore's Mantle"
which this version is probably based on, and I first heard of this in another of
Edward Rowe Snow's books. I think Snow said he believed Edgar Allen Poe based "The
Masque of the Red Death" on the epidemic as well. It makes me wonder just how disliked
Lady Eleanor (if she were real)must have been to inspire such an unflattering story.
LADY ELEANORE'S MANTLE
LADY
ELEANORE ROCHCLIFFE, being orphaned, was admitted to the family of her
distant relative, Governor Shute, of Massachusetts Bay, and came to
America to take her home with him. She arrived at the gates of Province
House, in Boston, in the governor's splendid coach, with outriders and
guards, and as the governor went to receive her, a pale young man, with
tangled hair, sprang from the crowd and fell in the dust at her feet,
offering himself as a footstool for her to tread upon. Her proud face
lighted with a smile of scorn, and she put out her hand to stay the
governor, who was in the act of striking the fellow with his cane.
"Do not strike him," she said. "When men seek to be trampled, it is a favor they deserve."
For
a moment she bore her weight on the prostrate form, "emblem of
aristocracy trampling on human sympathies and the kindred of nature,"
and as she stood there the bell on South Church began to toll for a
funeral that was passing at the moment. The crowd started; some looked
annoyed; Lady Eleanore remained calm and walked in stately fashion up
the passage on the arm of His Excellency. "Who was that insolent
fellow?" was asked of Dr. Clarke, the governor's physician.
"Gervase
Helwyse," replied the doctor; " a youth of no fortune, but of good mind
until he met this lady in London, when he fell in love with her, and
her pride and scorn have crazed him."
A few nights
after a ball was given in honor of the governor's ward, and Province
House was filled with the elect of the city. Commanding in figure,
beautiful in face, richly dressed and jewelled, the Lady Eleanore was
the admired of the whole assembly, and the women were especially curious
to see her mantle, for a rumor went out that it had been made by a
dying girl, and had the magic power of giving new beauty to the wearer
every time it was put on. While the guests were taking refreshment, a
young man stole into the room with a silver goblet, and this he offered
on his knee to Lady Eleanore. As she looked down she recognized the face
of Helwyse.
"Drink of this sacramental wine," he said, eagerly, "and pass it among the guests."
"Perhaps
it is poisoned," whispered a man, and in another moment the liquor was
overturned, and Helwyse was roughly dragged away.
"Pray,
gentlemen, do not hurt my poor admirer," said the lady, in a tone of
languor and condescension that was unusual to her. Breaking from his
captives, Helwyse ran back and begged her to cast her mantle into the
fire. She replied by throwing a fold of it above her head and smiling as
she said, "Farewell. Remember me as you see me now."
Helwyse
shook his head sadly and submitted to be led away. The weariness in
Eleanore's manner increased; a flush was burning on her cheek; her laugh
had grown infrequent. Dr. Clarke whispered something in the governor's
ear that made that gentleman start and look alarmed. It was announced
that an unforeseen circumstance made it necessary to close the festival
at once, and the company went home. A few days after the city was thrown
into a panic by an outbreak of small-pox, a disease that in those times
could not be prevented nor often cured, and that gathered its victims
by thousands. Graves were dug in rows, and every night the earth was
piled hastily on fresh corpses. Before all infected houses hung a red
flag of warning, and Province House was the first to show it, for the
plague had come to town in Lady Eleanore's mantle. The people cursed her
pride and pointed to the flags as her triumphal banners. The pestilence
was at its height when Gervase Helwyse appeared in Province House.
There were none to stay him now, and he climbed the stairs, peering from
room to room, until he entered a darkened chamber, where something
stirred feebly under a silken coverlet and a faint voice begged for
water. Helwyse tore apart the curtains and exclaimed, " Fie! What does
such a thing as you in Lady Eleanore's apartment?"
The
figure on the bed tried to hide its hideous face. "Do not look on me,"
it cried. "I am cursed for my pride that I wrapped about me as a mantle.
You are avenged. I am Eleanore Rochcliffe."
The
lunatic stared for a moment, then the house echoed with his laughter.
The deadly mantle lay on a chair. He snatched it up, and waving also the
red flag of the pestilence ran into the street. In a short time an
effigy wrapped in the mantle was borne to Province House and set on fire
by a mob. From that hour the pest abated and soon disappeared, though
graves and scars made a bitter memory of it for many a year. Unhappiest
of all was the disfigured creature who wandered amid the shadows of
Province House, never showing her face, unloved, avoided, lonely.-
Charles Montgomery Skinner Myths and Legends of Our Own Land: Vol. I (Google eBook) J.B. Lippincott, 1896 Philadelphia Pa pp253-256
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