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A Tale of The
Ragged Mountains.
========================= By Edgar A. Poe. ==============  During the fall of the
year 1827, while residing near
Charlottesville
in Virginia, I casually made the acquaintance of a Mr
Augustus Bedloe.
This
young gentleman was remarkable in every respect, and excited in me a
profound
interest and curiosity. I found it impossible to comprehend him either
in his mental, his moral, or his physical relations. Of his family I
could {{1843-01a: never }}
obtain {{1843-01a: any // 1843-01b:
no }}
satisfactory account. Where he came from I never ascertained. Even
about
his
age — although I call him a young gentleman — there was something
which
perplexed me in no little degree. He certainly seemed young —
and he
made
a frequent point of speaking about his youth — but there were moments
when I
should
have had little trouble in imagining him a hundred years of age. But in
no regard was he more peculiar than in his personal appearance. He was
singularly tall and thin. He stooped much. His limbs were exceedingly
long
and emaciated. His forehead was broad and low. His hair resembled the
web of the spider in its tenuity, and levity. His complexion was
absolutely
bloodless. His mouth was large and flexible, and his teeth were more
wildly
uneven, although sound, than I had ever before seen teeth in a human
head.
The expression of his smile, however, was by no means unpleasing, as
might
be supposed; but {{1843-01b: it }}
had no variation whatever. It was one of profound
melancholy — of a phaseless and unceasing gloom. His eyes were
abnormally large,
and round like those of a cat. The pupils, too, upon any accession or
diminution
of light, underwent contraction or dilation, just such as is observed
in
the feline tribe. In moments of excitement the orbs grew bright to a
degree
almost inconceivable; seeming to emit luminous rays, not of a
reflected
but of an intrinsic lustre, as does a candle or the sun; yet their
ordinary
condition was so totally vapid, [segment ?:] filmy and dull, as
to convey the idea
of
the eyes of a vulture, or even of a long-interred corpse. These peculiarities of person appeared to cause him
much
annoyance,
and he was continually alluding to them in a sort of
half explanatory
half apologetic strain, which, when I first heard it, impressed me very
painfully. I soon, however, grew accustomed to it, when my uneasiness
wore
off. It seemed to be his design rather to insinuate than directly to
assert,
that, physically, he had not always been what he was — that a long
series
of neuralgic attacks [segment ?:] had reduced him, from a
condition of more than
usual
personal beauty, to that which I saw. For many years past he had been
attended
by a physician, named Templeton, — an old gentleman perhaps seventy
years
of age — whom he had first encountered at Saratoga, and from whose
attention, while there, he either received, or
fancied that he received, great
benefit.
The result was that Bedloe, who was wealthy, had made an arrangement
with
Doctor Templeton, by which the latter, in consideration of a liberal
annual
allowance, had consented to devote his time and medical experience
exclusively
to the care of the invalid. [segment ?:]Doctor Templeton had been a traveller in his younger
days, and, at
Paris,
had become a convert, in great measure, to the doctrines of Mesmer. It
was altogether by means of magnetic remedies that he had succeeded in
alleviating
the acute pains of his patient; and this success had very naturally
inspired
the latter with a certain degree of confidence in the opinions from
which
the remedies had been educed. The Doctor, however, like all
enthusiasts,
had struggled hard to make a thorough convert of his pupil, and finally
so far gained his point as to induce the sufferer to submit to numerous
experiments. By the frequent repetition of these, a result had arisen
which
of late days has become so common as to attract little or no attention,
but which, at the period of which I write, had very rarely been known
in
America. I mean to say that between Doctor Templeton and Bedloe there
had grown up, little by little, a very distinct and strongly marked rapport,
or magnetic relation. I am not prepared to assert, however, that this rapport
extended beyond the limits of the simple sleep-producing power; but
this
power itself had attained great intensity. At the first attempt to
induce
the magnetic somnolency, the mesmerist entirely failed. In the fifth or
sixth he succeeded very partially, and after long continued effort.
Only
at the twelfth was the triumph complete. After this, the will of the
patient
succumbed rapidly to that of the physician, so that, when I first
became
acquainted with the two, sleep was brought about, almost
instantaneously,
by the mere volition of the operator, even when the invalid was unaware
of his presence. It is only now, in the year 1843, when similar
miracles
are witnessed daily by thousands, that I dare venture to record this
apparent
impossibility as a matter of serious fact.The temperament of Bedloe was, in the highest
degree,
sensitive,
excitable,
enthusiastic. His imagination was singularly vigorous and creative; and
no doubt it derived additional force from the habitual use of morphine,
which he swallowed in great quantity, and without which he would have
found
it impossible to exist. It was his practice to take a very large dose
of
it immediately after breakfast, each morning, — or rather immediately
after a cup of strong coffee, for he ate nothing in the forenoon — and
then set forth alone, or attended only by a dog, upon a long ramble
among
the chain of wild and dreary hills that lie westward and southward of
Charlottesville,
and are there dignified by the title of the Ragged Mountains. Upon a dim, warm, misty day, towards the close of
November, and
during
the strange interregnum of the seasons which in America is
termed the
Indian
Summer, Mr Bedloe departed, as usual, for the hills. The day passed
and
still he did not return. [segment ?:]About eight o'clock at night, having become
seriously
alarmed at his
protracted absence, we were about setting out in search of him, when he
unexpectedly made his appearance, in health no worse than usual, and in
rather more than ordinary spirits. The account which he gave of his
expedition,
and of the events which had detained him, was a singular one indeed. "You will remember," said he, "that it was about
nine in
the morning
when I left Charlottesville. I bent my steps immediately to the
mountains,
and, about ten, entered a gorge which was entirely new to me. [segment
?:] I
followed
the windings of this pass with much interest. The scenery which
presented
itself on all sides, although scarcely entitled to be called grand, had
about it an indescribable, and to me a delicious
aspect of dreary
desolation.
The solitude seemed absolutely virgin. I could not help believing that
the green sods and the grey rocks upon which I trod, had been trodden
never
before by the foot of a human being. So entirely secluded, and in fact
inaccessible, except through a series of accidents, is the entrance of
the ravine, that it is by no means impossible that I was indeed the
first
adventurer — the very first and sole adventurer who had ever
penetrated
its wierd [[weird]] recesses. "The thick and peculiar mist, or smoke, which
distinguishes the
Indian
Summer, and which now hung heavily over all objects, served, no doubt,
to deepen the vague impressions which these objects created. So dense
was
this pleasant fog, that I could at no time see more than a dozen yards
of
the path before me. This path was excessively sinuous; and, as the sun
could
not be seen, I soon lost all idea of the direction in which I
journeyed.
In the meantime the morphine had its customary effect — that of
enduing
all the external world with an intensity of interest. In the quivering
of a leaf — in the hue of a blade of grass — in the shape of a
trefoil — in the humming of a bee — in the gleaming of a dew-drop — in
the
breathing
of the wind — in the faint odours that came from the forest — there
came
a whole universe of suggestion — a gay and motley train of rhapsodical
and immethodical thought. "Busied in this I walked on for several hours,
during
which the
mist
deepened around me to so great an extent, that at length I was reduced
to
an absolute groping of the way. And now an indescribable uneasiness
possessed
me — a species of nervous hesitation and tremor. I feared to tread,
lest
I should be precipitated into some abyss. I remembered, too, strange
stories
told about these Ragged [segment ?:] Hills, and of the uncouth
and fierce races of
men
who tenanted their groves and caverns. A thousand
vague fancies
oppressed
and disconcerted me — fancies the more distressing because vague. Very
suddenly
my attention was arrested by the loud beating of a drum. "My amazement was, of course, extreme. A drum in
these Hills was a
thing
unknown. I could not have been more surprised at the sound of the trump
of the Archangel. But a new and still more astounding source of
interest
and perplexity arose. There came a wild rattling or jingling sound, as
if of a bunch of large keys — and upon the instant
a
dusky-visaged and
half-naked
man rushed past me with a shriek. He came so close to my person that I
felt his hot breath upon my face. He bore in one hand an instrument
composed
of an assemblage of steel rings, and shook them vigorously as he ran.
Scarcely
had he disappeared in the mist, before, panting after him with open
mouth
and glaring eyes, there darted a huge beast. I could not be mistaken in
its character. It was a hyena. "The sight of this monster rather relieved than
heightened my
terrors — for I now made sure that I dreamed, and endeavoured to arouse
myself
to waking consciousness. I stepped boldly and briskly forward. I rubbed
my eyes. I called aloud. I pinched my limbs. A small spring of water
presented
itself to my view, and here, stooping, I bathed my hands and my head
and
neck. This seemed to dissipate the equivocal sensations which had
hitherto
annoyed me. I arose a new man, and proceeded steadily
and
complacently on my unknown way. "At length, quite overcome with exertion and with a
certain
oppressive
closeness of the atmosphere, I seated myself beneath a tree. Presently,
there came a feeble gleam of sunshine, and the shadow of the leaves of
the tree fell faintly but definitively upon the grass. At this shadow I
gazed
wonderingly for many minutes. Its character stupified me
with
astonishment. The tree was a palm. "I now arose hurriedly and in a state of fearful
agitation — for
the
fancy that I dreamed would serve me no longer. I saw — I felt that I
had
perfect command of my senses — and these senses now brought to my soul
a world of novel and singular sensation. The heat became, all at once,
intolerable.
A strange odor [[odour]] loaded the breeze. A low continuous murmur,
like that
arising
from a full but gently-flowing river, came to my ears, intermingled
with
the peculiar hum of multitudinous human voices. "While I listened in an extremity of astonishment
which
I need not
attempt
to describe, a strong and brief gust of wind bore off the incumbent fog
as if by the wand of an enchanter. [["]]I found myself at the foot of a high mountain &
looking down
into
a vast plain, through which wound a majestic river. On the margin of
this
river stood an Eastern-looking city, such as we
read of in the Arabian
Tales, but of a character even more singular than
any there described.
From my position, which was far above the level of the town, I could
perceive
its every nook and corner, as if delineated upon a map. The streets
seemed
innumerable, and crossed each other irregularly in all directions, but
were rather long winding alleys than streets, and absolutely swarmed
with
inhabitants. The houses were wildly picturesque. On every hand was a
wilderness
of balconies, of verandahs, of minarets, of shrines, and fantastically
carved
oriels. Bazaars abounded; and in these were displayed rich wares in
infinite
variety and profusion — silks, muslins, the most dazzling cutlery, the
most magnificent jewels and gems. Besides these things,
were seen, on
all
sides, banners and palanquins; litters with stately dames close-veiled;
elephants gorgeously caparisoned; idols grotesquely hewn; drums,
banners,
and gongs; spears; silver and gilded maces. And amid the crowd, and the
clamor, and the general intricacy and confusion, — amid the million of
black
and yellow men, turbaned and robed, and of flowing beard, there roamed
a countless multitude of holy filleted bulls, and clambered, chattering
and shrieking about the cornices of the mosques, and clinging to the
oriels and minarets, vast legions of the
filthy but sacred ape. From the swarming
streets to the banks of the river, there descended innumerable flights
of steps leading to bathing-places; while the river itself seemed to
force
a passage with difficulty through the vast fleets of deeply-burthened
ships that far and wide encountered its surface. Beyond the limits of
the
city arose, in frequent majestic groups, the palm and the cocoa, with
other
gigantic and wierd [[weird]] trees of vast age; and here and there
might be seen
a field of rice; the thatched hut of a peasant; a tank; a stray temple;
a gipsy camp; or a solitary graceful maiden taking her way, with a
pitcher
upon her head, to the banks of the magnificent river. "You will say that now, of course, I
dreamed; but
not
so. What I saw — what I heard — what I felt — what I thought — had
about it
nothing
of the unmistakable idiosyncrasy of the dream. All was rigorously
self-consistent.
At first, doubting that I was really awake, I entered into a series of
tests which soon convinced me that I really was. Now, when one dreams
and, in the dream, [segment ?:] suspects that he dreams, the
suspicion never
fails
to
confirm itself, and the sleeper is almost
immediately aroused. Thus
Novalis
errs not in saying that "[[']]we are near waking when we dream that we
dream."[[']]
Had the vision occurred to me as I describe it, without my suspecting
it
as a dream, then a dream it might absolutely have been; but, occurring
as it did, and suspected and tested as it was, I am forced to class it
among other phenomena." "In this I am not sure that you are wrong", observed
Doctor
Templeton,
"but proceed. You arose and descended into the city." "I arose", continued Bedloe, regarding the Doctor
with
an air of
profound
astonishment, "I arose, as you say, and descended
into the city. On my
way
I fell in with an immense populace, crowding, through every avenue, in
the same direction, and exhibiting in every action the wildest
excitements.
Very suddenly, and by some inconceivable impulse, I became intensely
imbued
with personal interest in what was going on. I seemed to feel that I
had
an important part to play, without exactly understanding what it was.
Against
the crowd which environend [[environed]] me, however, I experienced a
deep sentiment
of
animosity. I shrunk from amid them, and, swiftly, by a circuitous path,
reached and entered the city. Here all was the wildest tumult and
contention.
A small party of men, clad in garments half[[-]]Indian,
half[[-]]European, and
officered by gentlemen in a uniform partly British, were engaged, at
great
odds, with the swarming rabble of the alleys. I joined the weaker
party;
arming myself with the weapons of a fallen officer, and fighting I knew
not whom with the nervous ferocity of despair. We were soon overpowered
by numbers and driven to seek refuge in a species of kiosk. Here we
barricaded
ourselves and, for the present, were secure. From a loop-hole near the
summit of the kiosk I perceived a vast crowd, in furious agitation,
surrounding
and assaulting a gay palace that overhung the river. Presently, from an
upper window of this palace, there descended an
effeminate-looking
person,
by means of a string made of the turbans of his attendants. A boat was
at hand, in which he escaped to the opposite bank of the river. [["]]And now a new and altogether objectless impulse took
possession
of my soul. I
spoke a few
hurried
but energetic words to my companions, and, having succeeded in gaining
over a few of them to my purpose, made a frantic
sally from the kiosk.
We
rushed amid the crowd that surrounded it. They retreated, at first,
before
us. They rallied, fought madly, and retreated again. In the meantime
we
were borne far from the kiosk, and became bewildered and entangled
among
the narrow streets of tall overhanging houses, into the recesses of
which
the sun had never been able to shine. The rabble pressed impetuously
upon
us, harrassing us with their spears, and overwhelming us with flights
of
arrows. These latter were very remarkable, and resembled in some
respects
the writhing creese of the Malay. They were made to imitate the body of
a creeping serpent, and were long and black, with a poisoned barb. One
of them struck me upon the right temple. I reeled and fell. An
instantaneous
and deadly sickness seized me. I struggled — I gasped — I died." "You
will hardly persist now," said I, smiling, "that the whole of
your
adventure
was not a dream. You are not prepared to maintain that you are dead?" When I said these words, I of course expected some
lively sally from
Bedloe in reply; but, to my astonishment, he hesitated, trembled,
became
fearfully pallid, and remained silent. I looked towards Templeton. He
sat
erect and rigid in his chair — his teeth chattered
and his eyes were
starting from their sockets. "Proceed!" he at length said hoarsely to
Bedloe. "For many minutes", continued the latter, "my sole
sentiment — my
sole
feeling — was that of Darkness and Nonentity, with the Consciousness
of
Death. At length there seemed to pass a violent and sudden shock
through
my soul, as if of electricity. With it came the sense of elasticity and
of light. This latter I felt — not saw. In an instant I seemed to rise
from the ground. But I had no bodily — no visible, audible, or palpable
presence. The crowd had departed. The tumult had ceased. The city was
in
comparative repose. Beneath me lay my corpse, with the arrow in the
temple;
the whole head greatly swollen and disfigured. But all these things I
felt not saw. I took interest in nothing. Even the corpse seemed a
matter
in which I had no concern. Volition I had none. But I appeared to be
impelled
into motion, and flitted buoyantly out of the city, retracing the
circuitous
path by which I had entered it. When I had attained that point of the
ravine
in the Mountains, at which I had encountered the hyena, I again
experienced
a shock as of a Galvanic Battery; the sense of weight, of
substance and of volition returned. I became my original self, and bent
my steps
eagerly
homewards: — but the Past had not lost the vividness of the Real — and
not now, even for an instant, can I compel my understanding to regard
it
as a dream." "Nor was it," said Templeton, with an air of deep
solemnity, "yet it
would be difficult to say how otherwise it should be termed. Let us
suppose
only that the Soul of the Man of to-day is upon the verge of some
stupendous
psychal discoveries. Let us content ourselves with this supposition.
For
the rest, I have some explanation to make. Here is a water-color
drawing
which I should have shown you before, but which an unaccountable
sentiment
of horror has hitherto prevented [segment ?:] me from showing."We looked at the picture which he presented. I saw
nothing in it of
an extraordinary character; but its effect upon Bedloe was prodigious.
He nearly fainted as he gazed. And yet it was but a miniature portrait
— a miraculously accurate one, to be sure — of his own very
remarkable
features. At least this was my thought as I regarded it. "You will perceive", said Templeton, "the date of
this
picture — it
is here, scarcely visible, in this corner — 1780. In this year was the
portrait taken. It is the likeness of a dead friend — a Mr Oldeb —
to
whom I became much attached at Calcutta, during the administration of
Warren
Hastings. I was then only twenty years old. When I first saw you, Mr
Bedloe,
at Saratoga, it was the miraculous similarity which existed between
yourself
and the painting, which induced me to accost you, to seek your
friendship,
and to bring about those arrangements which resulted in my becoming
your
constant companion. In accomplishing this point, I was urged partly,
and
perhaps principally, by a regretful memory of the deceased, but also,
in part, by an uneasy and not altogether
horrorless curiosity respecting
yourself. "In your detail of the vision which presented itself
to
you amid the Hills, you have described, with the minutest accuracy, the
Indian city
of Benares, upon the Holy River. The riots, the combats, the massacre,
were
the actual events of the insurrection of Cheyte Sing, which took place
in 1780, when Hastings was put in imminent peril of
his life. The man
escaping
by the string of turbans, was Cheyte Sing himself. The party in the
kiosk
were sepoys and British officers, headed by Hastings. Of this party I
was
one, and did all I could to prevent the rash and fatal sally of the
officer
who fell, in the crowded alleys, by the poisoned arrow of a Bengalee.
That
officer was my dearest friend. It was Oldeb. You will perceive by these
manuscripts," [Here the speaker produced a note-book in which several
pages
appeared to have been freshly written] "that at the very period in
which
you fancied these things amid the Hills, I was engaged in detailing
them
upon paper here at home." In about a week after this conversation, the
following
paragraphs
appeared
in a Charlottesville paper. "We have the painful duty of announcing the death of Mr
AUGUSTUS
BEDLO,
a gentleman whose amiable manners and many virtues have long endeared
him
to the citizens of Charlottesville. "Mr B., for some years past, has been subject to
neuralgia, which
has
often threatened to terminate fatally; but this can be regarded only as
the mediate cause of his decease. The proximate cause was one of
especial
singularity. In an excursion to the Ragged Mountains, a few days since,
a slight cold and fever were contracted, attended with great
determination
of blood to the head. To relieve this, Dr Templeton resorted
to
topical
bleeding. Leeches were applied to the temples. In a fearfully brief
period
the patient died, when it appeared that, in the jar containing the
leeches,
had been introduced, by accident, one of the venomous vermicular
sangsues
which are now and then found in the neighbouring ponds. This creature
fastened
itself upon a small artery in the right temple. Its close resemblance
to
the medicinal leech caused the mistake to be overlooked until too late.
"N. B. The poisonous sangsue of Charlottesville may
always be
distinguished
from the medicinal leech, by its blackness, and especially by its
writhing
or vermicular motions, which very nearly resemble those of a snake."I was speaking with the editor of the paper in
question,
upon the
topic
of this remarkable accident, when it occurred to me to ask how it
happened
that the name of the deceased had been given as Bedlo."I presume," said I, "you have authority for this
spelling; but I
have
always supposed the name to be written with an e at the end." "Authority? — no;" he replied. "It is a mere
typographical error.
The
name is Bedloe with an e, all the world over, and I never knew
it to be
spelt otherwise in my life." "Then" said I mutteringly, as I turned upon my
heel,
"then indeed
has
it come to pass that one truth is stranger than any fiction — for
Bedlo,
without the e, what is it but Oldeb conversed?" [[sic]]
And this man
tells me
it is a typographical error." |
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