The Ghostly Concert

= THE GHOSTLY CONCERT =
== By Michael Zagoskin ==
=== From Tales of Three Centuries, published in 1891 ===
This powerful story, translated from the
Russian by Jeremiah Curtin, should liavean extraordinary fascination for lovers
of the weird and horrible, since it would be difficult to find its counterpart
in the whole range of fiction. " If any of you gentlemen have lived
continually in ,”
began Cheromuhin, laying his pipe aside, "you have surely noticed that a
periodical invasion of white-walled Mother Moscci^ by our provincial brethren
usually begins before Christmas. Almost at the same time with the appearance of
frozen meat and turkeys in the game market, there stretch in, through all the
barriers, endless caravans of kibitkas and all kinds of winter equipages containing
whole families of landholders hastening to have a good time in the capital,
examine male candidates for marriage, show their daughters in society, and
spend in a few weeks all they have saved during the year. 
"But in 1796 this increase of temporary
residents began with the first snow ; and, according to the oldest inhabitants,
the ancient capital had not been so crowded, or rather crammed, for many a
year. The managers of the Nobles” Club shrugged their shoulders whenever they
had less than two thousand guests at a ball, and laid the blame on the Italian
Medoxi, who gave masquerades in the halls and rotunda of the Petrovski Theatre.
"Indeed, public masquerades — at which
people did not dance, but stifled and crushed one another — were during that winter
the favorite amusement of the people of .
" Among the constant visitors at these
masquerades was a certaia young man, but not from the interior. Ivan
Nikolaievich Zorin was his name. He had just returned from foreign parts, had
lived long in ,
loved music passionately, and always spoke of the Italian opera with transport
that turned almost into madness whenever conversation touched a certain prima
donna of the Neapolitan Theatre. In conversation he called her Lauretta, but
would not discover to any of his acquaintances the name by which she was known
in the musical world. It was evident in every way that not enthusiasm for art
alone had aroused his admiration ; and though Zorin did not confide his heart
secret to any man, all his friends, and I in that number, could guess why he
seemed always sad and dull, and grew animated only when conversation touched
the Italian opera. His unbroken sadness, with pining and a certain gloomy
despondency which the English would call spleen, we simply called hypochondria,
and laughed at the doctor when he shook his head over the mental disease of our
friend. “0h, stop, Fomich!' we would say; 'what pleasure do you find in
stuffing him with pills? Prescribe a couple of bottles of champagne a day, five
or six balls a week, with a dose of masquerade and theatres; that will be
better than your depressing and exciting medicines. “ 
" No matter how Foma Fomich resisted
at first ; he decided at last to listen to our counsel and advise Zorin to go
to every ball and not miss a masquerade. 
'' In real truth, through taking part in
all the amusements of the city, our patient seemed to grow calmer and more
cheerful. Sometimes he failed to visit the theatre and refused an invitation to
a ball, but he always came among the first to a masquerade and went away last. 
" I was serving at that time in the
guards ; my leave of absence ended with the first week in Lent, and to avoid
trouble I was obliged to start for on Monday of that week.. Wishing to take
advantage of the last days of my leave and rejoice in full measure, I passed
the whole carnival in boundless fashion. In the daytime breakfasts with
pancakes, sleigh-rides, formal dinners; in the evening, theatres; and at night,
balls and private masquerades till morning dawn. This round of amusement gave
me no time to collect my senses. I was in a sort of walking dream and lost
sight of my friend Zorin completely. 
" On Sunday — that is, the last day of
the carnival — I went to the public masquerade earlier than usual. There was a
throng of people ; every door had to be taken by assault, and by force alone
was I able to reach the rotunda in a quarter of an hour. Music, loud
conversation, and the assumed tones of masks who, although suffocating from
heat, ceased not to be amiable and talk nonsense; the blinding light of crystal
lustres; the many-colored dresses, and that sound of the unintelligible but
deafening talk of a multitudinous mass of persons resolved to be amused at any
sacrifice — confused me at first to such a degree that for some minutes I
neither heard nor saw anything. Wishing to draw breath, I began to seek a place
where I might look around a little. While pushing along the wall, I heard some
one calling me by name. I turned and looked ; a tall man in a red domino and a
mask beckoned to me. The moment I approached, his companion left him. 
"'Sit down near me. It is with
difficulty that we have met,' said he. “But why do you look at me so ? Is it
possible that you do not recognize my voice ? ' 
"“ There is something familiar in it,”
thought I, “but still it is strange and unusual. “ 
"“Well, if you do not know me, then
look,” continued he, raising his mask. 
" I started back involuntarily ; my
heart sank from fright. “ My God! this is Zorin! these are his features — oh,
certainly this is he ; but as he will be when lying on the table, when the last
service is sung over his body. But now — no, no ! a living man cannot have such
a face ! “ thought I. 
"Well,” asked he, with a certain
strange smile, “do you not find that I have changed ? “ 
Oh, very much! “ 
Then why do they say that grief changes a
man ? Not grief, but possibly joy.' Joy?' 
Yes, my friend. If you knew how happy I am!
Listen,” continued he, in an .undertone and looking around timidly; 'but for God's
sake let no one know of this. She is here.” "'She? Who?” "'Lauretta.'
Is it possible ?  
Yes, my friend, she is here; and, oh, how
she loves me! She left her dear birthplace; she exchanged an ever-blue sky for
our cloudy and gloomy one. There, in the circle of her relatives warmed by the
sun of happy ,
she bloomed like a beautiful rose; but here, among people as cold and lifeless
as our eternal snows, if she herself does not fade, she will ruin her gift, she
will outlive her glory. She, accustomed to breathe the warm air of the South,
was not afraid of our splitting frosts, of our wintry tempest she forgot
everything, left everything, and has lain down alive in this broad cold tomb
which we call our country; and all this for me.” 
Do you not glorify this act overmuch ? '
asked I, interrupting my friend. “It is not so warm here as in ; but we
have spring and summer as well as there. Perhaps it is pleasanter in than here; I must
say, however, that 
does not look like a tomb ; your Lauretta is not the first Italian artiste whom
we have seen here ; and if she will give concerts “
Yes, one and the last. I have consented to
this. Let her enchant all ,
warm up fpr a moment your icy souls, and then die for all men but me. ' 
" So she intends to remain here ? ' 
"Yes; now do you see how she loves me
? But in return, I also — oh, my love is not a feeling, not a passion — no, my
friend, no! I cannot tell whether you will comprehend my happiness or
understand me. I belong wholly to her. She asked this of me ; she wished this. “
Here Zorin bent forward and whispered in my ear: “I gave her my soul; now I am
entirely hers — do you understand, my friend ? — entirely. ' 
" Well, it has happened to ihe often
to give away my soul in words; and what young man would hesitate a moment to
tell a woman he loved that his soul belonged to her, that she possessed it?
This is an ordinary, every-day phrase in the language of love. But still I
cannot tell you with what terror and repulsion I heard the confession of my
friend. The mysterious voice in which he spoke; the wild fire of his gleaming
eyes; this uncontrolled, mad enthusiasm; these words of joy; the pale, withered
face of a corpse! 
"O brother!' said I, with vexation, “how
can you talk such nonsense ? The soul does not belong to us, and cannot be
given away. Love your Italian artiste; marry her if you like ; give her your
heart “ 
"'Heart! ' repeated my friend, in a
tone of ridicule. “But what is the heart ? Is the heart immortal like the soul
? Will it not rot in the grave ? A splendid gift, a handful of dust! Whoso
gives his heart, promises to love only while it beats — and it may grow cold,
if not to-day, to-morrow ; but whoever parts with his soul, gives not one life,
not a hundred lives, but all his endless eternity. Yes, my friend, if you give
a gift, let it be a real one. Lauretta has nothing to fear now ; the soul is
not like the heart — it cannot be buried in the grave. ' 
"'Show me this enchantress, this
Armida,' said I; 'this seductive demon who is filching away your soul. “ I do
not know, myself, where she lives.  
Oh, you are trifling.' 
“No, my friend, I meet her only here. For
the moment she does not wish to show herself ; this will soon be over. After
her concert, we shall marry and live in the country. ' When will she give her
concert ? “ Next Friday. ' 
Next Friday ! Impossible! You must have
forgotten that concerts are never given during the first week in Lent. “ 
“How can that be ? Lauretta must know; she
even said she would give it in this rotunda. ' 
"'Then she must be mistaken, herself.
Have you seen her to-day ? “ 
"Not yet. She never comes earlier than
, precisely
at . No matter how
crowded the masquerade is, no matter where I am sitting, she finds me at once. 
Precisely at ,' said I, looking at my watch; “that is, in two
minutes. We shall see if she is as punctual as you say ! ' 
“ Gentlemen, if you have never met Lent at
a masquerade, you have heard at least that, by accepted usage, at the music ceases; this
means that Lent has begun and all amusements are at an end. The moment I looked
at my watch — which very likely was slow — the piercing noise of the trumpets
sounded the signal for closing the masquerade, and so suddenly that I trembled
involuntarily and raised my eyes. 
" Tfu! how they startled me! '
exclaimed I, turning to my friend ; but at my side was an empty seat. I looked
round. At a distance in the crowd I saw a red domino walking with a tall,
stately woman in a dark Venetian dress. I hurried after them ; but at the same
time three masks met me. Around these there was a crush that I could not break
through in any way, and lost sight of Zorin's red domino. These three masks had
just appeared in the rotunda; one was dressed as a sort of tall and lank
apparition in a great paper cap on which was written in large letters, “ Dry
eating. “ On each side of this mask went two others, one of which was dressed
as a mushroom, the other as a cabbage. The tall scarecrow congratulated all on Lent,
adding jests and sayings from which all who stood near were just dying from
laughter. I alone was not laughing, and labored earnestly with my hands and
feet to breakthrough the crowd. At last I succeeded in tearing myself free into
space. I searched the rotunda through, went around the side galleries, but met
nowhere the red domino or the dark Venetian dress. 
" Next morning I went to take farewell
of Zorin, but did not find him at home ; in the evening I was galloping along
the 
highway. 
“ More than three months had passed since I
left .
Occupied with continual service, and a lawsuit which began in the lifetime of
my grandfather, and which may possibly be brought to an end by some one of my
grandchildren, I forgot altogether my last meeting and conversation with Zorin.
"One evening as I sat reading in the
club, I came by chance on an article in which it was announced that the prima
donna of the Neapolitan Theatre, Lauretta Baldusi, to the great grief of all
lovers of music, had died at her villa near . 
"“ Lauretta! ' repeated 'A prima donna of the Neapolitan Theatre! Oh, but that
is the same artiste with whom poor Zorin was in love to madness ! How could she
have died near 
toward the end of February, when she was almost at the same time in at the masquerade
? ' 
" That very evening I wrote to one of
my friends in ,
to let me know whether Zorin was well or not, and if he knew anything about his
marriage. I received an answer informing me that on the first week of Lent,
early Saturday morning, Zorin was found senseless on the Petrovski Square, near
the theatre ; that afterward he was sick unto death, and that a couple of weeks
before my letter was written they took him to St. Petersburg to be cured. 
" I searched for him everywhere,
searched the whole city through, but all my efforts were fruitless. At last I
saw him quite unexpectedly in a house where I had not the least thought or wish
to find him. He was very glad to meet me, and told me of his strange adventure
which began in the rotunda of the Petrovski Theatre. The following is the
story, word for word, as I heard it from my poor friend : 
" “ Surely you have not forgotten,”
said he, “that I saw you last on the evening before Lent, at a masquerade in the
rotunda of the Petrovski Theatre. At the moment when they were trumpeting I remarked in the crowd the
mask of Lauretta, who, in passing, beckoned to me. You were occupied at the
time with something else, and it seems you did not observe how I sprang from my
chair and went to her. 
"“ "Go home this moment,"
said she, as I took her hand. " I demand also that for four days you
neither leave your rooms nor receive any one. On Friday come here on foot
alone, at . Here in
the rotunda there will be a rehearsal of the concert which I shall give on
Saturday. " 
But why so late ? " asked " Will they admit me ? " Be not
disturbed," said Lauretta; "for you the doors will be open. I have
arranged the rehearsal for midnight, so that only a few artistes and lovers of
music should know of it Now go home at once, and if you do everything I demand
I shall be yours forever; but if you disobey me, and especially if you receive
the friend with whom you have just now been sitting and to whom you told that touching
which you should have held silence, we shall never meet either in this world or
in another; and," added she, in a low tone, " though, my dear friend,
the worlds are countless, if you do not follow my advice we shall not meet in
one of them. " 
" “In the course of two years spent in
, I had
become acquainted with all the whims and uncommon caprices of Lauretta. She was
a wonderful and fascinating woman, now as gentle and obedient as a timid child,
now as proud and untamable as a fallen angel. She combined in herself all
possible extremes. At times she was ready to fight against Heaven itself,
believed in nothing, sneered at all things; then on a sudden, without cause,
she grew most superstitious, saw evil spirits in all places, took counsel of wizards,
and, if she loved not, at least she feared God. At times she called herself my
slave, which for the moment she really was ; but when that moment of obedience
had passed, she became such a powerloving woman that she endured not the least
contradiction. Hence, no matter how strange her demands seemed (in ), I said nothing,
and promised to carry out her will, especially since she gave me her word that
this was the last trial of my love. 
"“You can imagine with what feelings I
waited for Friday. I ordered the servants to tell every one that I was not at
home, and to exclude even you. I walked back and forth in my rooms ; I could
begin no work, and was burning as if in fire. And the nights! O my friend, even
criminals on the eve of execution do not pass such hellish night-hours as I
did. People were not so tormented even when torture was a calculated art and a
science. I know not how I lived till Friday. I remember only that on that last
day of my trial I was not only unable to eat, but I could not drink even so
much as a cup of tea. My head was burning ; my blood was not flowing, but
boiling, in my veins. I remember, too, that it was not a holiday ; but it
seemed to me that from morning till night the bells ceased not to ring in . A clock was before
me; when the hands were approaching ,
my patience was turned to a species of madness. I was suffocating; a malignant
fever struck me, and cold sweat came out on my face. At half-past eleven I put
on a light overcoat and started for the theatre. All the streets were empty.
Though my rooms were a couple of versts from the theatre, fifteen minutes had
not passed before I had run over the whole Prechistenka, the Mohovaya, and had
come out on the square of the game market. Two hundred yards distant rose the
colossal roof of the Petrovski Theatre. It was a moonless night, but the stars
seemed more numerous and brighter than usual; many of them fell directly on the
roof of the theatre, were scattered in sparks, and then vanished. I approached
the principal entrance. One door was partly open, and near it stood a decrepit
old doorkeeper with a lantern; he beckoned to me and went ahead through the
dark corridors. "“I know not whether it was because I had reached the
appointed place, or for some other reason, but I grew notably calmer, and
remember, too, that when I had looked carefully at my guide I saw that he moved
without putting one foot before the other, and that his eyes were as dim and
immovable as the glass eyes in wax figures. Having passed through a long
gallery, we entered at last the rotunda. It was lighted up, all the chandeliers
were filled with burning tapers, but still it was dark ; the flames from them
seemed as if painted, and gave out no light whatever. But four candles, on high
funereal candlesticks, cast an uncertain glimmer on the first seats and the
platform in front of them. This wooden platform was covered with music-stands,
instrument-cases, notes; in one word, everything was prepared for a concert,
but the musicians had not yet come. In the front row of seats sat thirty or
forty gentlemen, some of whom were in embroidered French coats, and had their
hair powdered ; others were in simple evening dress. I sat near one of the
latter. 
Allow me to ask," said I to my
neighbor, ''are these all friends and connoisseurs of music whom Mme. Baldusi
has invited ? " 
" Precisely so. " 
" I make bold to ask who that young
gentleman with the expressive face is; he wears a German dress.” 
“That is Mozart. " 
“Mozart! " repeated I ; " what
Mozart ? " 
“What Mozart ? That's a strange question.
Why, of course, Mozart, the author of 'Don Giovanni,' the 'Magic Flute ' "
" ' "What do you tell me! Why, he
died four years ago." 
“I’ll beg your pardon ! He died in
September, 1791 ; that is live years ago. Near him are Cimarosa and Handel, and
behind them Rameau and Glack." “Rameau and Gltick ? " 
“On our left stands the director of the
orchestra, Araya, whose opera 'Bellerophon “ was given in " 
“In 1750, during the reign of Elizabeth
Petrovna ? " " ' "Just so; he is talking with LuUi now."
" • " The chief of the orchestra of Louis XIV. ? " “The very
same. But do you notice in the dark corner — oh, you will see him from here :
Jean Jacques Rousseau is sitting there. He is invited, not as an artist, but as
a judge and lover of music. Of course, his 'Village Wizard” is a pretty opera;
but you must confess yourself " 
“But what does this mean ? "
interrupted I, looking fixedly at my neighbor. I was about to ask him how he
dared to jest with me in such insolent fashion, when I saw that he was the old
man Volgin, who had been my friend for years, a passionate lover of music, and
a great humorist. 
“Ba, ba, ba! " cried I, " so it
is you who are pleased to amuse yourself over me. Is it possible ? Is this you,
Stepan Alexaievich ? " 
Yes, it is," answered he, very coolly.
And you have come here also to listen to the rehearsal of lo-morrow's concert ?
" My neighbor nodded. 
But permit me," said I, while my hair
was rising on end, " what does this mean ? It seems to me that you died
six years ago." 
“Pardon me, " replied my neighbor,
" it is not six, but just seven. 
I recollect now that I was at your
funeral," said I. Quite possible. But when were you pleased to die ?
" Who ? I ? Have mercy on us! I am alive." You alive ? Ah, that is
strange, very strange ! " said the dead man, shrugging his shoulders. 
"I wished to spring up, wished to
escape. My legs would not stir; but I, as if nailed down with spikes, remained
motionless in my place. All at once loud clapping of hands was heard through
the hall, and Lauretta in a mask and dark Venetian dress appeared on the stage.
"After her stretched a long file of
musicians — and such musicians! O my Lord God! what figures! Necks of storks
with faces of dogs, bodies of oxen with heads of swallows, cocks with goats'
feet, goats with men's hands — in one word, no wild imagination, no mad fancy,
could create such repulsive and deformed wonders ; it could not even represent
them to itself after a description. Especially disgusting seemed to me those
who had human faces — if faces might thus be called in which all the features
were so distorted that except the chief human traits all the rest had no
likeness to anything. When all this band rushed out after Lauretta to the platform,
the leader of the orchestra, with the owl's face and powdered head, sat down in
the chair made ready for him ; then began the tuning of the instruments. Many
of the musicians were dissatisfied ; most of all, the contra-bass with the
bear's face. 
"  What sort of a bark box is this ? "
roared he, turning in every direction. " Have mercy on me ! Is it
possible, Signora Baldusi, that I am to play on an instrument like this ?
" 
"“ Lauretta, in silence, pointed to my
neighbor. The contra-bass sprang from his seat, seized poor Volgin by the neck,
dragged him to the stage, and placing him head downward, caught both his legs
with one hand, and with the other began to draw the bow across his legs, and
the fullest and deepest bass sounds thundered beneath the rotunda. At last all
the instruments were tuned. The leader of the orchestra gave a signal by
raising a gnawed ox-bone which served as a baton. They played the overture of
the " Magic Flute." 
" “ There were wild and discordant
passages, it must be confessed, and the clarinet, who blew with his nose,
played frequently false; still, the overture was not badly rendered. 
After rather hearty applause, Lauretta came
forward, and, without removing her mask, sang what for me was an entirely new
aria. The words were surpassingly strange — a dying woman, a denier of God, was
taking farewell of her love. She sang that in boundless space and forever, with
each passing instant, the distance between them would widen, that her torments
would be endless as eternity, and that their souls, like light and darkness,
would never be mingled the one with the other. 
"A11 this was told in beautiful
verses; but the music! O my friend, where can I find words to describe to you
the inexplicable sadness which pressed my poof heart as that entrancing but
hellish music shook the air? There was nothing of earth in it, but neither was
there an echo from Heaven in that voice, filled with tears and sobs. I heard
the groans of men doomed to torments eternal ; the gnashing of teeth, the screams
of hopeless despair, and deep sighs, coming from a breast worn with sufferings.
When in the midst of a thundering crescendo composed of the very wildest and
most discordant sounds, Lauretta stopped on a sudden, a general and
reverberating bravo was heard through the hall, and a number of voices called
out: 
“ Signora Baldusi, Signora Baldusi ! show
.yourself to us ; remove your mask. " 
" 'Lauretta obeyed. The mask fell to
her feet; and what did I see ? Merciful God ! Instead of the young and blooming
face of my Lauretta, I saw a dead and dried skull. I was dumb from amazement
and horror ; but the other spectators spoke all at once, and raised a great
cry. 
“Ah, what charms! " exclaimed they,
with enthusiasm; "look, what a skull — just like ivory! But the mouth, the
mouth ! A wonder, it extends to her ears! What perfection ! Ah, how charmingly
she gnashes her teeth at us! What nice round cavities she has for eyes ! Oh,
she is beautiful ! " 
" “" Signora Baldusi," said
Mozart, rising, "grant us a favor — sing “Biondina,' in
'Gondoletta'." 
“But that is impossible," said the
director of the orchestra. "Signora Baldusi sings the cavatina “Biondina,'
in “Gondoletta,' only with a guitar; and there is no such instrument here.
" 
“You are mistaken, maestro di capella,"
answered Lauretta, pointing to me. "There is a guitar before you." 
The leader of the orchestra cast a quick
glance at me, opened his owl's beak, and laughed so malignly that the blood
grew cold in my veins. 
“But, really," said he, "pass him
this way; we can make a good guitar out of him." 
“ Three of the spectators seized me, and
from hand to hand passed me to the leader of the orchestra. In half a minute he
wrenched my right leg off, tore the flesh away, leaving nothing but bone and
dry sinews; the latter he began to stretch out like strings. 
" “I cannot describe to you the
unendurable pain which this preliminary operation caused me; and although my
right leg was torn off, still, when the villanous leader began to tune the
instrument, all the nerves in my body were straining and ready to snap. But
when Lauretta took from his hands my poor leg, and her bony fingers ran along
the stretched sinews, I forgot all pain, so beautiful and sweetly sounding were
the tone and music of this uncommon guitar. 
"After a brief ritornello, Lauretta
sang her cavatina in a low voice. Often had I heard her before, but never had
she produced on me such a wondrous effect. I seemed to myself to have become
all hearing; and what was more strange, not only my soul, but all parts of my
body enjoyed the enchanting music, independently of each other. But my
remaining leg was the most delighted of all ; its enthusiasm reached such a
degree of ecstasy, each sound of the guitar produced such inexplicably pleasant
sensations, that it could not stay still 'for one instant. Every movement, too,
of the leg answered to the time of the music. At one moment its movements were
slow and serious, at another it jumped quickly; then it trembled slowly. 
"“All at once Lauretta blundered. O my
friend, all previous pain was nothing compared with what I felt then. It seemed
that my skull was breaking in pieces, that they were tearing all my nerves out
at once; sawing me with a wooden saw, and hacking me with a dull knife. This
hellish torture could not endure long. I lost consciousness, and remember only
as a dream that at the moment when all seemed to grow dark in my eyes some one
called out: 
“Throw that broken instrument into the
street.”
==
Category:Published
Category:Zagoskin