【爱伦坡】厄舍古屋的倒塌

                
                
《厄舍古屋的倒塌》
    爱伦·坡 著
 
他的心脏像是一个悬挂着的琴箱，稍一碰触便发出音乐的鸣响。 ——贝朗瑞
在这年秋天的一个沉淡、阴暗、寂静的白日，天上的云彩低垂。整整一天我独自一人骑着马走过乡下一大片极为凄凉的土地，暮色降临时，我终于看见了那阴沉的厄舍古厦。不知怎么搞的，我一看到这幢房子，就不由产生出一种难以忍受的忧郁感。我说难以忍受，是由于这种感情中没有半点美的味道，要知道，即使是最荒凉、最可怕的自然景象，在人们心中也往往会引起一种近乎诗意的感伤，而我现在的忧郁感中却毫无诗意可言。我望着前面的景象——望着这幢房子和它周围的地貌，望着光秃秃的墙壁，望着眼睛般的窗户，望着那一排排蓑草，望着那几株死树的白树干，心中极感压抑。这感觉就如同吸足鸦片的人从美梦中醒来，重新回到冰冷的现实中一样。我心里冰凉冰凉的，心猛地往下一沉，感到一阵恶心——不论运用何种崇高的想象力，这种忧郁感都是无法驱散的。我不由想到：这是怎么了？为什么我一看到厄舍古厦心里便极为别扭？这是一个难解之谜，我无法解释为什么我一想到它便心中充满种种阴沉的想象。我只好得出一个十分牵强的结论：一方面，毫无疑问，自然景物这种组合，确实产生了一种力量，可以影响人的情绪，而另一方面，对于这种组合的感受和分析，却应该是因人而异，寓于人本身的思考当中的。我想到，假如把眼前的这些景物重新安排一下，它们的压抑性很可能就会大大减弱，甚至完全消除。这样一想，我便策马来到池塘陡峭的边缘，观看灰色的蓑草、丑陋的枯树干，和那眼睛般空洞洞的窗口，我心中忽然打一个冷战，情绪变得比刚才更为压抑。
然而，我却将在这幢阴沉的古厦中住上几个星期。它的主人罗德里克·厄舍从小就是我的好朋友，但是现在我俩已经许多年未曾谋面了。最近我收到了一封来自远方乡下的信——一封来自他的信，一封纠缠着我、必须我亲自答复的信。从信中的口气看，我的朋友显然情绪极为不佳。他声称自己患了一种急性疾病，目前精神紊乱，所以亟想见我——见我这个他唯一的最好的好朋友，他希望通过与我愉快的会面，来减轻自己的病症。他措辞恳切，提出的要求发自肺腑，我毫无犹豫的余地，于是便遵从了这个我认为是非常奇特的召唤。
然而，尽管我们小时候是非常亲密的伙伴，可实际上我却不怎么了解我的这位朋友。他性格极为内向。不过我知道，他那身世很古老的家族一直是以敏感的气质著称的，这一点在家族成员创作的许许多多高贵的艺术品中都有所表现。我也知道，厄舍家族乐善好施，十分慷慨，常常不加以声张地行些善事。同时，这个家族的人也都酷爱音乐和艺术，当然他们最热衷的并不是正统易懂的音乐，而是更为复杂的绘画。此外我也知道一个非常重要的情况：古老的厄舍家族始终是一线单传，它的支系都繁衍不了几代便断了香火。我想，也许正是由于这种不派生旁枝的缺陷，这个家族才得以在多少世纪的漫长岁月中，一代代相互影响，子承其父，始终保持着它特有的性格特点；也终于使得其庄园——厄舍古厦——这个易生歧义的有趣名字，在当地农民心目中既是代表这幢古建筑，又成为该家族的同义语。
我有点孩子气地把头探向池塘，这时候，我的压抑感愈发强烈了。我知道这肯定是迷信在作怪，可我越是心里明白自己是迷信，我就越迷信。我完全明白，这种以恐怖为基础的感伤情绪是荒谬的。也许就是因为这一原因，当我再度举目观看这幢居于水塘中的古厦时，我的心中陡然产生一种奇怪的想象，这种想象是那么荒唐，我现在说出它来只是为了说明造成我压抑感的那种力量。我努力说服自己的想象力，使自己相信古厦及其周围的地区笼罩着一种特有的气体，这种气体与天上的空气不一样，它是从朽树、灰墙和宁静的池塘中溢出来的，是一种神秘的毒气，压抑、惰滞、蒙蒙的可以看到，呈铅灰的颜色。
我努力摆脱这种恍如做梦的感觉，更为仔细地一点点观看古厦的真实面貌。它看上去极为古旧。由于年代久远，房子的色泽消褪得厉害。古厦的外表生满了苔藓，屋檐上蛛网密布。然而房子并没有严重损坏，没有一处坍塌。它的各部分仍然十分完好，不过古厦上的每一块石头似乎都要粉碎。整体的完好与局部的败落，这二者看上去极不协调。这一点使我不由地想起那些长年无人问津的地窖中的外强中干的木器，它们多年未接触过外面的空气，看上去是好好的，里头其实早已朽烂不堪。然而，这座古厦除了这种广泛的败落迹象外，在结构上却没有什么不稳定的朕兆。仔细观察，也许会发现一道难以辨识的裂缝，从房子正面的屋顶开始，呈锯齿形沿墙而下，一直通入池塘的死水之中。 我一边这样观察着，一边策马来到房子跟前。一名在门口迎候的仆人牵走了我的坐骑，我走进大厅那哥特式的拱门。一名走路蹑手蹑脚的仆人一言不发地领我走过许许多多黑暗、复杂的走廊，前往主人的书房。在路上，我不知道怎么才能打消自己的忧郁心情。随着我的脚步，周围的东西——屋顶的雕刻、墙上的挂毯、乌黑的地板——都在颤动，这类东西其实都是我打小就熟悉了的，可这些普通物品挑起我很多想象，这种想象却是我不熟悉的。我在楼梯上遇见了一位医生。他那老谋深算的表情中混杂着窘怯的神情。他从我身边走过时似在发抖。仆人打开一扇门，引我见古厦的主人。
我走进的这个房间又大又高。房间中的窗户是细长的，我站在黑色的橡木地板上，觉得这些窗户是那么遥远，好像永远也够不着。微弱的红光透过玻璃射进，使我可以看清周围的大件物品。然而，不管怎么努力，我也看不清远处角落里是什么样的，也看不清那高高的拱形屋顶。墙上挂着深色的壁布。屋子里家具很多，全是老古董，一点也不舒服，而且十分破旧。屋里还乱扔着许多书籍和乐器，但这些东西并没有给这里增添丝毫生气。这儿到处都弥漫着一种强烈的忧郁气氛。 我一进屋，躺在长沙发上的厄舍就站了起来，快活而热情地向我向好。我觉得他的这种举动有点过分礼貌了，像是一个百无聊赖的人在拘谨地做出一种努力。然而，我只看了他的面孔一眼，便看出他是非常诚挚的。我俩坐了下来，在他不说话的时候，我怀着一种又是怜悯又是忐忑的心情，注视着他。我真没想到，几年没见，罗德里克·厄舍的变化竟然如此大。我简直无法相信，面前的这个脸色苍白的人就是我小时候的好朋友。然而他始终是仪表堂堂的。尽管他面如槁灰，他的大眼睛却是水汪汪的，炯炯有神。他的薄嘴唇缺少血色，但轮廓却极为漂亮。精美的鼻子上生着两个宽大的鼻孔，就像是希伯来雕塑。下巴精巧雅致，头发又细又软，额头平坦宽阔。他的这副相貌让人看上一眼便不会忘记。现在他脸上的表情极为夸张，与以前大不一样，所以我几乎怀疑自己是在同谁说话了。他的这种苍白的皮肤、目光灼灼的眼睛，也都极为震慑我的心灵。还有他那柔软光滑的头发，显然是久未梳洗，这薄薄的一层头发不是垂在脸边，而是散在头顶，让我看着十分陌生。
我立刻在我朋友的作派中感到了一种不断变化的东西，我很快发现这是因为他怎么也克服不住自己那因神经过分激动而引起的习惯性颤抖。我来之前心里上确实做好了准备，知道会遇上这类情况。这不仅是因为他在信中有所提及，而且也是因为我还记得他那种小孩子脾气。我根据他的健康状况和性格特点，推断出他会这样。他的行为一会儿活泼，一会儿阴沉。他的嗓音一会儿颤抖、犹豫不决（在他情绪低落的时候），一会儿简洁有力，一会儿又生硬、沉重、空洞、慢条斯理，一会儿又非常和缓。在他最兴奋的时候，他就像是喝了酒，或是吸了鸦片。
就这样向我说起了邀我来访的目的，说起了他亟想见我，说起他希望我能够给予他安慰。他又谈了谈他的疾病，说这种疾病是天生的，是家族性的，他很想找到一种方法缓解自己的病症。他马上又补充说，这种病只是一种神经方面的病，肯定很快就会过去。它的症状是，患者被一些不可名状的感觉所控制。他详细地向我描述自己的这些感觉，他的讲述引起了我的兴趣，也使我感到困惑，不过，这也许是因为讲述者的神态和所用的词汇产生的作用。他的这种神经感觉上的毛病属于急性的，他只能吃最淡最无味的食物，只能穿特定质地的衣服，他受不了任何鲜花的香味，也见不得一点光亮，除了特定的几种声音和弦乐外，别的任何声音都会刺激得他恐惧不已。 我发现他已被几种反常的恐惧折磨得不堪了。―我要完蛋了，‖他说，―我肯定会悲惨地死掉。结局必然是这个样。我害怕未来的事情，我怕的不是这些事情本身，而是它们产生的结果。即使是最小的小事也会刺激我的灵魂，使我发抖。其实我并不痛恨危险，我只痛恨危险造成的效果，我痛恨恐怖。我处于这种身心交瘁的可悲状态之中，觉得自己早晚会在努力挣脱心理恐惧时，放弃掉生命和理智。
接下去，通过他那些断断续续的含糊暗示，我又了解到他精神状态方面的一些其它特点。他对自己所住的古厦有一种迷信的心理，这些年来他从不敢在这里到处走动，这种迷信的影响力太模糊了，简直无法言传。然而，无论是古厦的形式还是建材，或是那灰墙、角楼，以及那包围着古厦的惨淡的池塘，都给他的精神造成极大的压力。
不过，他却有些犹豫地承认说，他的这种忧郁是有根有源的，他的爱妹就长期患有这种严重的精神病，精神几乎崩溃。这个妹妹是他多年来的唯一同伴，也是他世上的唯一亲人。他痛苦地说：―她若是一死，我们厄舍老族就剩下我这一根独苗了。‖他这样说着的时候，他妹妹玛德琳小姐从房间的远处走过，她没注意到我，很快就消失了。我怀着一种惊恐的心情注视着她，这种心情我是无法描述的。我望着她那逐渐远去的身影，心里不由茫然失措。当房门终于关上时，我的目光本能地回到我朋友脸上，急切地想看看他是什么个表情，但是他已用手捂住了脸，我只能看到他那张开着的手指显得越发苍白，滴滴泪珠顺着指缝漏出。
玛德琳小姐的疾病久治不愈，医生们都束手无策。医生对她的诊断是：性情冷淡，身体逐渐消瘦，时常表现出阵发性僵硬症的某种特点。到目前为止，她一直在与疾病做着顽强的斗争，尚未最终卧床不起。但是在我到达古厦的当天傍晚，她向强大的病魔屈服了，这天晚上厄舍极为激动地这样告诉我。我这才知道，我看到的那一眼她的背影，将是最后一眼。只要她还活着一天，我就不会再见到她了。
以后的几天，我和厄舍都没有提起她的名字。这几天我全力以赴地试图治疗我朋友的心病。我俩一起绘画，一起读书。有时我也像做梦一般，听他用如泣如诉的吉他，弹奏那即席创作的曲子。我俩的关系日益亲密，他向我毫无保留地敞开了自己的心扉。我这才知道他是何等痛苦而徒劳地试图驱走心头那与生俱有的黑暗，使自己振作起来。
我将永远不会忘记我与厄舍古厦的主人在一起单独度过的这段有意义的时光。然而，我却无法准确地描述出他从事的是一种什么样的研究，从事的是一种什么样的工作。他极富想象力。他那些即席吟唱的哀歌将永在我耳畔回响。他弹唱的曲子很有韦伯最后一曲华尔兹的味道。而他精心创作的绘画则使我震惊不已，因为尽管这些画都画得极为生动，可我却无法用语言说出它们的意思来。它们那简洁的笔调、质朴的构图，都深深地吸引了我，震撼我的心灵。如果说世上哪个凡人可以画出一种思想来，那么此人便是罗德里克·厄舍。他这个忧郁症患者是在用抽象的东西，来表现一种无法容忍的强烈畏惧。即使在欣赏极富想象力的画家富塞利的作品时，我也没产生过与此类似的感觉。
我的朋友的绘画中也有一点不太抽象、可以言传的特点，那就是它们显得变幻不定，不过这种特点十分模糊。他有一幅不大的作品，画的是一个拱洞或坑道的内部情景：除了又平又白的短墙外，没画任何东西。从画中的一些不重要的小东西可以看出，这个拱洞位于地表以下很深之处。此洞不见任何出口，也不见火炬或其它光源，然而画中却有一种强烈的光亮，将一切都照耀得煌如白日。
我刚才说过，我的朋友神经过敏，除了某些弦乐乐器外，听不得别的音乐。也许正因为这个原因，他才只弹吉他，弹得非常好。不过他那出色的即兴演唱才能则是别有来源，它们肯定是来源于他的强闻博记，来源于他对音律的精通，和他经常诵诗的习惯。我清楚地记住了他朗诵的一首狂诗。这首诗深深地打动了我，因为我在这首诗中头一回体验到了厄舍对古厦的真正感觉，明白了他坚持住在这儿的高尚动机。此诗名为《鬼宫》，诗文如下：
1
在天使护卫着的
碧绿的翠谷之中，
曾经有一个庄严美丽的王宫——
多么辉煌——瞧它昂首挺胸。
屹立在皇家的领地上，
魅力无穷。
2
黄色的王旗闪烁金光，
在宫殿顶上随风飘扬。
（这一切都发生在以往）
那一天是那样美丽和祥。
轻风拂面，
一股气味如此芬芳
顺着白色的壁垒
飞拂，飘荡。
3
流浪汉们在快活谷
眺望着宫殿那美丽的窗户。
但见天使们合着古琴的旋律
围着一个宝座翩翩起舞。
宝座上端坐着尊贵的王储。
他气吞山河
恰似万民之主！
4
王宫的大门金碧辉煌，
珠宝金玉闪闪发光。
门中涌出一队
美丽的山林女神姑娘。
她们用悠扬的歌喉
把贤明聪慧的君主颂扬。
5
但是邪恶的势力
驱动悲郁之气，
袭击了皇家的领地。
（啊，让我们哀悼吧，
因为他再不会感受到明日的晨曦，多么悲戚！）
而包围着他的那些
辉煌和美丽，
只留下一个淡忘的故事
发生在遥远的过去。
6
如今
行人在谷中仍过往频频。
透过王宫那闪着红光的窗户
他们看见黑影纷纷，
合着嘈杂之音
疯狂地舞动，呻吟。
忽然，一大群人
激流般涌出破落的大门。
他们狂笑着，
笑得是那样可怕，阴沉。
我清楚地记得，这首诗中的寓意引得我们浮想联翩，厄舍表现出了一种我尚未提过的新思路，他的想法又新奇又固执。总的来说，它是压抑感的表现。但是通过他那纷杂的想象力，这种想法呈现出一种大胆的特色。并且在特定的条件下，进入了一种不拘形式的境界。我无法用言词来准确说出他是如何纵情于自己的信念的。然而，他的信念却是与他祖宅的灰色石头联系在一起的。他认为，他的压抑感是寓于这些灰色石头的排列方式之中，寓于石上的青苔之中，寓于宅子周围那些枯朽的树木之中，尤其是寓于这一切东西长期给人造成的压力之中，寓于那静静的水塘映照出的古厦的倒影之中。他说，这种压抑的情绪是可以用肉眼看到的，它在水塘周围，在石墙上，形成一种气氛，并越积越浓。他又补充说，虽然结果是无法发现的，但是它却形成了一种强大而可怕的影响，多少世纪以来，无声地铸就了这个家族每一代人的命运，也使他成为了他现在的这副样子。他的这种观点不需要评论，我也不想作评论。
我们读的书也都是幻想方面的，确实，多年以来古厦中的藏书对于塑造他的精神世界，起到了很大作用。我俩一起读的书包括格雷塞的《韦尔韦尔和沙尔特勒》、马基亚弗利的《贝尔佩格尔》、斯维登堡的《天堂和地狱》、霍尔堡的《尼尔斯?克里姆地下之行》、弗卢德等人的《手相学》、蒂克的《蓝色远方之行》、康帕内拉的《太阳城》。我们最爱读的是多明我会教士艾梅里克写的一个八开本的《宗教法庭指南》。而梅拉的某些拉丁文文章，厄舍读完之后总要坐在那里，一言不发地冥想上几个钟头。然而，他最喜欢读的还是一本哥特体活字印刷的四开本善本奇书，它是一个早已为人忘却的古老教堂的手册。
我不禁想到这部著作中描写的那种疯狂的礼仪，不禁想到也许这本书对我朋友的忧郁症是有着一定影响的。有一天晚上，他忽然告诉我，玛德琳小姐去世了，他说他打算把她的尸体放进古厦的地窖中保存两个星期，再举行葬礼。他之所以要采取这种偏颇的作法，是有原因的，至于这些原因是否站得住脚，我是无权探讨的。他说他是考虑到死者所患之病的特殊性质，考虑到医生们多嘴多舌的询问，考虑到厄舍家祖坟离此较远，也比较暴露，所以才择此下策的。我不想否认，听了他的这番话，我忽然想起我刚到这儿的那天在楼梯处遇到的那个医生，他表情是那样阴险，我认为厄舍的这种处理方法虽则不大正常，但却不失为一种无害的最佳谨慎行为。
在厄舍的请求下，我帮助他把尸体弄到那个临时墓穴中去。尸体已经入了棺，我俩的任务只是把棺材抬到那里。存放尸体的地窖就位于我卧室的正下方，它又小又潮，照不进一丝光亮。由于它已封闭很久，乍一打开，里面凝滞的空气差点把我们手中的火把弄灭。这个地窖在中世纪时显然是个地牢，近年来变成了一个存放火药或其它易燃物品的地方，因为地窖的地面上，以及通往这间地窖的长长的拱道上，都仔细地包着铜皮。就连大铁门也采取了类似的保护措施，打开这沉重的铁门时，合叶发出极为刺耳的嘎嘎声。
我们把棺材抬进阴森森的地窖，放在架子上，稍稍将尚未钉死的棺盖移开来一点，看了看死者。我现在才发现，这对兄妹长得极为相似。厄舍可能看出了我的心思，小声嘟囔了几句，我这才知道，原来他与死者是孪生兄妹。他俩之间一向存在着一种别人难以理解的心灵感应。然而，我俩并没有长时间地观看死者，因为不得不承认，尸体毕竟有几分可怕。死者是在芳菲之年被僵硬症夺去生命的，身上留有僵硬症的一切特征。她的脸和脖子上有一层像是涂上去的淡淡的红晕，嘴角上挂着一丝仿佛是装出来的浅浅的微笑，这种现象出现在死人脸上，的确怪叫人毛骨悚然的。我们合上棺盖，拧上螺钉，走出地窖，关好铁门，浑身脏兮兮，心情挺压抑，回到上方，各自去了各自的卧室。
几天的时间过去了，由于悲痛，我朋友的精神失调变得愈发明显。他放弃了日常的起居习惯，漫无目的地从一个房间走到一个房间，脚步匆匆。他的脸色愈发（如果―愈发‖是可能的话）苍白难看，眼睛中的光泽全然消失了。他以前的那种嘶哑的嗓音现在也听不见了，他的声音颤抖得厉害，仿佛心中极为恐惧似的。有时候我真觉得，他之所以这样永远平静不下来，可能是因为在努力鼓起勇气，去吐露一件沉重的秘密。而又有些时候，我又不得不觉得，他只不过是沉浸于一种莫名其妙的疯狂怪想。他总是长时间极为专注地凝神发呆，仿佛是在谛听某种想象中的声音似的。他的这种状态自然吓住了我，也传染了我。我逐渐受到了他那种奇异的迷信观念的强大影响。 特别是在把玛德琳小姐放进地窖的第七天或第八天，那天深夜我尤其强烈地体验到了这种影响。时间一个钟头一个钟头地过去，我怎么也睡不着。我努力运用自己的理智，驱赶开心头的紧张。我竭力说服自己：我所体验到的一切只不过是环境所致，是因为房间里那令人压抑的家具，还有热气上升时形成的风，它窸窸窣窣地在墙根游动，掀起破旧的黑窗帘，也弄得床饰摆来摆去。但是我的所有努力全是白搭。我逐渐开始不由自主地颤抖起来，终于，我心中无缘无故地感到极为惊恐。我拼命喘息，试图压住这种惊恐。我坐起来，靠在枕头上，全神贯注地向黑暗中窥视，不知是出于本能还是怎么的，我也仔细地侧耳聆听。在暴风雨的间歇中，我听到一种低沉难辨的声响，隔好长一段时间响那么一下，我听不出这声音究竟是从哪儿发出的。我心中产生一种无法言传的极度恐惧，简直无法忍俊。我连忙穿上衣服（因为我觉得今晚是不能再睡了），在房间里踱来踱去，想以此来摆脱自己的恐怖情绪。
我刚这样踱了几遭，忽然发现不远处的楼梯上有人提着灯上楼。是厄舍。不一会儿，他就手拎提灯，敲了敲我的房门，走了进来。他的脸色与平时一样，惨白惨白，然而他的目光却极为兴奋，举手投足都透出一种无法克制的歇斯底里劲头。他的样子吓了我一跳，但是不管他现在是什么样，也总比平时那种让我受不了的离群索居的孤独劲儿强，我甚至觉得他现在能这样倒也不错，也不失为一种解脱。
―你还没看见他吧？
他默默地向周围审视了一番后突然说道。
―你刚才还没看见他吧？待在这儿别动！你会看见的。
他一面这样说着，一面小心地掩上提灯，匆匆走到窗口，不顾外面的暴风雨，一把将窗户推开。 一阵狂风吹进，差点把我们掀个跟头。外面的黑夜中风雨交加，呈现出大自然的一副既可怕又美丽的壮观景色。这一带正在起旋风，天幕上乌云低垂，低得几乎就压在房檐上。旋风起时，但见滚滚的乌云迅速聚到一起，相互撞击。天上无月无星，没有一丝光亮。但是那大团大团的乌云，它们朝向地面的一面，以及我们周围的一切物体，却在那笼罩于古厦的水蒸气的映衬下，发出一种淡淡的、不自然的光亮来。
―你不要看这个！
我浑身颤抖，对厄舍说道。我硬把他从窗口拉开，领他坐下。
―这种把你迷惑住了的景象只不过是一种常见的大气放电现象，或者也许是水塘里产生的瘴气所致。把窗户关上吧，天很凉，对你身体不利。这儿有一本你最喜欢的传奇小说，我来念，你来听，咱们就这样一起来打发这个可怕的夜晚吧。
我信手拿起的这本古书是朗斯洛特·坎宁爵士的《疯狂的特里斯特》。不过我说它是厄舍最喜欢的书，其实这并不是事实，只不过是一句无可奈何的戏语。因为此书文字粗俗，语言罗唆，情节缺乏想象力，根本不合我朋友的高贵情趣。然而，我手边只有这一本书，我只希望，通过我这种愚蠢的朗读（书中的人也有家族性神经病），他会感到一丝宽慰，从而他那激动的情绪能够平息下来，否则的话，他现在的激动情绪会使他的忧郁症火上浇油。假如我能看到他极为专注、极为快活地听我念每一个字，那么我就是成功了。
我读到了这个故事中著名的一段：特里斯特英雄艾特尔雷德无法和平地进入道士的住所，于是准备强行闯入。我这样读道： ―艾特尔雷德生性刚毅，现在仗着酒劲，更是勇不可当，他等不得与倔脾气的恶道会谈。现在雨点开始落在他身上，他担心天气还会变坏，于是举起狼牙棒，在门板上砸开一个洞，把带着铠甲的手伸进破洞，连拉带拽。一时间干木头破裂的空洞声音响彻整个树林。
读到这里我停了一下，因为我觉得（刚开始我以为自己太激动，想象力太丰富，从而产生了错觉）——我觉得从古厦里一个很远的地方，传来一种类似于朗斯洛特爵士所描绘的干木头的破裂声，不过这个声音更为沉闷罢了。毫无疑问，引起我注意的只不过是这种巧合，因为与窗外那越来越热闹的风雨声相比，这点声音本来算不上什么，不应该干扰我或引起我的兴趣。我继续读道：
 ―勇士艾特尔雷德进门之后，不禁又惊又怒，原来恶道根本不在里边，只有一条浑身是鳞的巨龙，口吐火舌，守护着一个金子的宫殿，宫殿的地板是银子的，墙上悬挂着一张闪闪发光的黄铜盾牌，上书几个大字：‗进此门者乃勇士，屠此龙者得此盾‘。艾特尔雷德举起狼牙棒，朝巨龙脑袋击去。巨龙倒下，口喷毒气，发出嘶哑刺耳的叫声，这声音是那样难听可怕，艾特尔雷德用手捂住耳朵，即使这样，也挡不住这种他以前从未听过的可怕声音。
读到这里我又忽然停下，心中充满了惊异，因为就在这个当口，我又确切地听到了（尽管是从哪个方向传来的我仍弄不清楚）一种来自远处的又低又长，还有几分嘶哑的尖叫声，或碾磨声——与书中描绘的巨龙的叫声一个样。
当这第二次极为奇特的巧合出现时，我一下子就晕了头，千头万绪全都涌上心头，但最主要的感觉还是惊奇和极度的恐惧。不过尽管如此，我还是尽量克制住自己，没有在我这位敏感而善观察的朋友面前表现出激动的情绪来。我绝不是说他肯定也注意到了这种声音，不过这会儿他的神态和举止发生了奇怪的变化。他原来是坐在我对面，现在却逐渐转动椅子，后来索性脸朝着房门了，我只能看到他的侧脸。只见他的嘴唇一个劲儿哆嗦，仿佛是在无声地嘟囔。他的头已垂在了胸前，不过我知道他并没有睡着，他那大张着的眼睛中闪着光。他的身体也在动，不断地动来动去，轻轻摇摆，动作很规则。我迅速地将这一切看在眼里之后，又开始读起朗斯洛特爵士的故事来。
―勇士杀死巨龙后，思考着怎样摘取铜盾，怎样破除铜盾上的咒语。他搬开巨龙的尸体，豪迈地沿着银地板，大踏步向悬有铜盾的墙壁走去。还未等他走到墙跟前，铜盾便掉了下来，掉在了他跟前的银地板上，发出 啷啷的巨响。
我话音未落，就听见一阵 啷啷的金属落地之声，还带有沉闷的回音，就好像沉重的铜盾真的落在了银地板上一样。我吓破了胆，噌地一下站起身，但是厄舍却仍然像什么都没发生一样，轻轻地摇来摇去。我跑到他跟前，只见他两眼发呆，脸上的表情紧绷绷的，像是一尊石像。但是当我把手放在他肩上时，却发现他浑身都在发抖。他的唇边浮现出一抹惨淡的微笑，他好像没有意识到我的存在，又急匆匆地嘟囔了起来，声音含混不清。我凑到他嘴边，终于听出了他那可怕的话语。
―没听见吗？——是的，我听见了，我早就听见了。很久很久了，很多很多分钟，很多很多小时，很多很多天，我早就听见了——可我不敢——我真是个可怜虫！——我不敢说！咱们把她活活地放进了棺材！我不是说过我的感觉特别敏锐吗？现在我来告诉你，她刚一在棺材里轻轻动弹我就听见了。好几天以前我就听见了——可我却不敢——不敢说！——而今晚——艾特尔雷德——哈！哈！——砸开了道士的门，巨龙临死前痛苦地呻吟，铜盾 啷落地！——喂，其实那是她在砸开棺材，嘎嘎地推开铁门，艰难地在包着铜皮的地窖拱道中行进！啊，我该逃往何处呢？她不是马上就要来到这儿了吗？她不是正在匆匆赶来，谴责我过早地把她送进停尸房吗？我不是已经听见她上楼梯的脚步声了吗？我不是听出了她那沉重可怕的心跳声吗？疯子！他噌地一下站起身，使出吃奶的劲儿尖声叫喊：―疯子！门没有了，她就站在那儿！
仿佛他那超人的喊叫具有一种魔法，话音刚刚落地，他面对的那扇古旧的房门便缓缓打开。其实这是一阵风的功力，但是没有了房门，门外高高站着的确实就是厄舍家的小姐——那身穿殓衣的玛德琳。她的白袍上血迹斑斑，瘦削的身体上，每一处都显现出痛苦挣扎的痕迹。她浑身颤抖，摇摇晃晃，在门槛处站了一会儿，然后，发出一声长长的呻吟，沉重地跌向屋里，跌倒在她哥哥的跟前。她在做临死前的痛苦挣扎。这时候她的哥哥也倒在了地上死去，他是被吓死的，被那他已预见到的恐怖所吓死的。
我魂飞魄散地逃出房间，逃出古厦。我跑过古老的堤道，暴风雨势头正猛。忽然，一道光亮照亮道路，我回头张望，想看看这道如此奇特的光亮究竟是从哪儿射来的，因为我身后只有那幢巨大的古厦。原来，这道光亮是一轮血红的满月发出的，它顺着古厦上那条锯齿形裂缝照了过来，这条裂缝我曾经说过，从屋顶一直裂到地基，当初还不怎么明显。我眼看着这条裂缝迅速地越裂越大，一阵旋风呼啸着升起，我只觉得天旋地转，那巨大的宅墙崩裂开来，接下去是一阵长长的巨响，就像是千条瀑布同时倾泻。我身边的水塘逐渐恢复了平静，深深的塘水无声地吞下了―厄舍古厦的碎石烂瓦。
The Fall of the House of Usher
Edgar Allen Poe
During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was--but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me--upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain--upon the bleak walls--upon the vacant eye-like windows--upon a few rank sedges--and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees--with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium--the bitter lapse into everyday life-the hideous dropping off of the reveller upon opium--the bitter lapse into everyday life--the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart--an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it--I paused to think--what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down--but with a shudder even more thrilling than before--upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.
Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a distant part of the country--a letter from him--which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness--of a mental disorder which oppressed him--and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best, and indeed his only personal friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said--it the apparent heart that went with his request--which allowed me no room for hesitation; and I accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very singular summons.
Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet really knew little of my friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well as in a passionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easily recognisable beauties, of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honoured as it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary variation, so lain. It was this deficiency, I considered, while running over in thought the perfect keeping of the character of the premises with the accredited character of the people, and while speculating upon the possible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have exercised upon the other--it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue, and the consequent undeviating transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the name, which had, at length, so identified the two as to merge the original title of the estate in the quaint and equivocal appellation of the "House of Usher" --an appellation which seemed to include, in the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family and the family mansion.
I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment --that of looking down within the tarn--had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition--for why should I not so term it?--served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is the paradoxical law of all sentiments having terror as a basis. And it might have been for this reason only, that, when I again uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in the pool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy --a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the vivid force of the sensations which oppressed me. I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that about the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity-an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had reeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn--a pestilent and mystic vapour, dull, sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued.
Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinising observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.
Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objects around me--while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed from my infancy--while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this--I still wondered to find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of his master.
The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through the trellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over and pervaded all.
Upon my entrance, Usher arose from a sofa on which he had been lying at full length, and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at first thought, of an overdone cordiality--of the constrained effort of the ennuye man of the world. A glance, however, at his countenance, convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down; and for some moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher! It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a surpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity; these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eve, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect its Arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.
In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence --an inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles to overcome an habitual trepidancy--an excessive nervous agitation. For something of this nature I had indeed been prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certain boyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical conformation and temperament. His action was alternately vivacious and sullen. His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision (when the animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that species of energetic concision--that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-sounding enunciation--that leaden, self-balanced and perfectly modulated guttural utterance, which may be observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of opium, during the periods of his most intense excitement.
It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest desire to see me, and of the solace he expected me to afford him. He entered, at some length, into what he conceived to be the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, and one for which he despaired to find a remedy--a mere nervous affection, he immediately added, which would undoubtedly soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed them, interested and bewildered me; although, perhaps, the terms, and the general manner of the narration had their weight. He suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odours of all flowers were oppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with horror.
To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. "I shall perish," said he, "I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results. I shudder at the thought of any, even the most trivial, incident, which may operate upon this intolerable agitation of soul. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect--in terror. In this unnerved-in this pitiable condition--I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, FEAR."
I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and equivocal hints, another singular feature of his mental condition. He was enchained by certain superstitious impressions in regard to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he had never ventured forth--in regard to an influence whose supposititious force was conveyed in terms too shadowy here to be re-stated--an influence which some peculiarities in the mere form and substance of his family mansion, had, by dint of long sufferance, he said, obtained over his spirit-an effect which the physique of the gray walls and turrets, and of the dim tarn into which they all looked down, had, at length, brought about upon the morale of his existence.
He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin--to the severe and long-continued illness --indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution-of a tenderly beloved sister--his sole companion for long years--his last and only relative on earth. "Her decease," he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, "would leave him (him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he spoke, the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion of the apartment, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I regarded her with an utter astonishment not unmingled with dread--and yet I found it impossible to account for such feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me, as my eyes followed her retreating steps. When a door, at length, closed upon her, my glance sought instinctively and eagerly the countenance of the brother--but he had buried his face in his hands, and I could only perceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had overspread the emaciated fingers through which trickled many passionate tears.
The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her physicians. A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transient affections of a partially cataleptical character, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she had steadily borne up against the pressure of her malady, and had not betaken herself finally to bed; but, on the closing in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she succumbed (as her brother told me at night with inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of the destroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I had obtained of her person would thus probably be the last I should obtain --that the lady, at least while living, would be seen by me no more.
For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher or myself: and during this period I was busied in earnest endeavours to alleviate the melancholy of my friend. We painted and read together; or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild improvisations of his speaking guitar. And thus, as a closer and still intimacy admitted me more unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did I perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which darkness, as if an inherent positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of the moral and physical universe, in one unceasing radiation of gloom.
I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours I thus spent alone with the master of the House of Usher. Yet I should fail in any attempt to convey an idea of the exact character of the studies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me, or led me the way. An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long improvised dirges will ring forever in my cars. Among other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber. From the paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded, and which grew, touch by touch, into vaguenesses at which I shuddered the more thrillingly, because I shuddered knowing not why;--from these paintings (vivid as their images now are before me) I would in vain endeavour to educe more than a small portion which should lie within the compass of merely written words. By the utter simplicity, by the nakedness of his designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If ever mortal painted an idea, that mortal was Roderick Usher. For me at least--in the circumstances then surrounding me--there arose out of the pure abstractions which the hypochondriac contrived to throw upon his canvas, an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which felt I ever yet in the contemplation of the certainly glowing yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.
One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not so rigidly of the spirit of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picture presented the interior of an immensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, with low walls, smooth, white, and without interruption or device. Certain accessory points of the design served well to convey the idea that this excavation lay at an exceeding depth below the surface of the earth. No outlet was observed in any portion of its vast extent, and no torch, or other artificial source of light was discernible; yet a flood of intense rays rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and inappropriate splendour.
I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory nerve which rendered all music intolerable to the sufferer, with the exception of certain effects of stringed instruments. It was, perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself upon the guitar, which gave birth, in great measure, to the fantastic character of his performances. But the fervid facility of his impromptus could not be so accounted for. They must have been, and were, in the notes, as well as in the words of his wild fantasias (for he not unfrequently accompanied himself with rhymed verbal improvisations), the result of that intense mental collectedness and concentration to which I have previously alluded as observable only in particular moments of the highest artificial excitement. The words of one of these rhapsodies I have easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the more forcibly impressed with it, as he gave it, because, in the under or mystic current of its meaning, I fancied that I perceived, and for the first time, a full consciousness on the part of Usher, of the tottering of his lofty reason upon her throne. The verses, which were entitled "The Haunted Palace," ran very nearly, if not accurately, thus:
I.
In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once fair and stately palace--
Radiant palace--reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion--
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.
II.
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This--all this--was in the olden
Time long ago);
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.
III.
Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
IV.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
V.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And, round about his home, the glory That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
VI.
And travellers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh--but smile no more.
I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad led us into a train of thought wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher's which I mention not so much on account of its novelty, (for other men have thought thus,) as on account of the pertinacity with which he maintained it. This opinion, in its general form, was that of the sentience of all vegetable things. But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a more daring character, and trespassed, under certain conditions, upon the kingdom of inorganization. I lack words to express the full extent, or the earnest abandon of his persuasion. The belief, however, was connected (as I have previously hinted) with the gray stones of the home of his forefathers. The conditions of the sentience had been here, he imagined, fulfilled in the method of collocation of these stones--in the order of their arrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi which overspread them, and of the decayed trees which stood around--above all, in the long undisturbed endurance of this arrangement, and in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence--the evidence of the sentience--was to be seen, he said, (and I here started as he spoke,) in the gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the waters and the walls. The result was discoverable, he added, in that silent, yet importunate and terrible influence which for centuries had moulded the destinies of his family, and which made him what I now saw him--what he was. Such opinions need no comment, and I will make none.
Our books--the books which, for years, had formed no small portion of the mental existence of the invalid--were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this character of phantasm. We pored together over such works as the Ververt et Chartreuse of Gresset; the Belphegor of Machiavelli; the Heaven and Hell of Swedenborg; the Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas Klimm by Holberg; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud, of Jean D'Indagine, and of De la Chambre; the Journey into the Blue Distance of Tieck; and the City of the Sun of Campanella. One favourite volume was a small octavo edition of the Directorium Inquisitorum, by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and AEgipans, over which Usher would sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the perusal of an exceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic--the manual of a forgotten church--the Vigilae Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.
I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and of its probable influence upon the hypochondriac, when, one evening, having informed me abruptly that the lady Madeline was no more, he stated his intention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight, (previously to its final interment,) in one of the numerous vaults within the main walls of the building. The worldly reason, however, assigned for this singular proceeding, was one which I did not feel at liberty to dispute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so he told me) by consideration of the unusual character of the malady of the deceased, of certain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the part of her medical men, and of the remote and exposed situation of the burial-ground of the family. I will not deny that when I called to mind the sinister countenance of the person whom I met upon the stair case, on the day of my arrival at the house, I had no desire to oppose what I regarded as at best but a harmless, and by no means an unnatural, precaution.
At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangements for the temporary entombment. The body having been encoffined, we two alone bore it to its rest. The vault in which we placed it (and which had been so long unopened that our torches, half smothered in its oppressive atmosphere, gave us little opportunity for investigation) was small, damp, and entirely without means of admission for light; lying, at great depth, immediately beneath that portion of the building in which was my own sleeping apartment. It had been used, apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of a donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of deposit for powder, or some other highly combustible substance, as a portion of its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The door, of massive iron, had been, also, similarly protected. Its immense weight caused an unusually sharp grating sound, as it moved upon its hinges.
Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within this region of horror, we partially turned aside the yet unscrewed lid of the coffin, and looked upon the face of the tenant. A striking similitude between the brother and sister now first arrested my attention; and Usher, divining, perhaps, my thoughts, murmured out some few words from which I learned that the deceased and himself had been twins, and that sympathies of a scarcely intelligible nature had always existed between them. Our glances, however, rested not long upon the dead--for we could not regard her unawed. The disease which had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death. We replaced and screwed down the lid, and, having secured the door of iron, made our way, with toll, into the scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion of the house.
And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came over the features of the mental disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner had vanished. His ordinary occupations were neglected or forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber with hurried, unequal, and objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, if possible, a more ghastly hue--but the luminousness of his eye had utterly gone out. The once occasional huskiness of his tone was heard no more; and a tremulous quaver, as if of extreme terror, habitually characterized his utterance. There were times, indeed, when I thought his unceasingly agitated mind was labouring with some oppressive secret, to divulge which he struggled for the necessary courage. At times, again, I was obliged to resolve all into the mere inexplicable vagaries of madness, for I beheld him gazing upon vacancy for long hours, in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if listening to some imaginary sound. It was no wonder that his condition terrified-that it infected me. I felt creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the wild influences of his own fantastic yet impressive superstitions.
It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the seventh or eighth day after the placing of the lady Madeline within the donjon, that I experienced the full power of such feelings. Sleep came not near my couch--while the hours waned and waned away. I struggled to reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavoured to believe that much, if not all of what I felt, was due to the bewildering influence of the gloomy furniture of the room--of the dark and tattered draperies, which, tortured into motion by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, and rustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts were fruitless. An irrepressible tremour gradually pervaded my frame; and, at length, there sat upon my very heart an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this off with a gasp and a struggle, I uplifted myself upon the pillows, and, peering earnestly within the intense darkness of the chamber, hearkened--I know not why, except that an instinctive spirit prompted me--to certain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the pauses of the storm, at long intervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an intense sentiment of horror, unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on my clothes with haste (for I felt that I should sleep no more during the night), and endeavoured to arouse myself from the pitiable condition into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the apartment.
I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an adjoining staircase arrested my attention. I presently recognised it as that of Usher. In an instant afterward he rapped, with a gentle touch, at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was, as usual, cadaverously wan--but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in his eyes--an evidently restrained hysteria in his whole demeanour. His air appalled me--but anything was preferable to the solitude which I had so long endured, and I even welcomed his presence as a relief.
"And you have not seen it?" he said abruptly, after having stared about him for some moments in silence--"you have not then seen it?--but, stay! you shall." Thus speaking, and having carefully shaded his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and threw it freely open to the storm.
The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from our feet. It was, indeed, a tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its beauty. A whirlwind had apparently collected its force in our vicinity; for there were frequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind; and the exceeding density of the clouds (which hung so low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not prevent our perceiving the life-like velocity with which they flew careering from all points against each other, without passing away into the distance. I say that even their exceeding density did not prevent our perceiving this--yet we had no glimpse of the moon or stars--nor was there any flashing forth of the lightning. But the under surfaces of the huge masses of agitated vapour, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately around us, were glowing in the unnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctly visible gaseous exhalation which hung about and enshrouded the mansion.
"You must not--you shall not behold this!" said I, shudderingly, to Usher, as I led him, with a gentle violence, from the window to a seat. "These appearances, which bewilder you, are merely electrical phenomena not uncommon--or it may be that they have their ghastly origin in the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this casement;--the air is chilling and dangerous to your frame. Here is one of your favourite romances. I will read, and you shall listen;--and so we will pass away this terrible night together."
The antique volume which I had taken up was the "Mad Trist" of Sir Launcelot Canning; but I had called it a favourite of Usher's more in sad jest than in earnest; for, in truth, there is little in its uncouth and unimaginative prolixity which could have had interest for the lofty and spiritual ideality of my friend. It was, however, the only book immediately at hand; and I indulged a vague hope that the excitement which now agitated the hypochondriac, might find relief (for the history of mental disorder is full of similar anomalies) even in the extremeness of the folly which I should read. Could I have judged, indeed, by the wild over-strained air of vivacity with which he hearkened, or apparently hearkened, to the words of the tale, I might well have congratulated myself upon the success of my design.
I had arrived at that well-known portion of the story where Ethelred, the hero of the Trist, having sought in vain for peaceable admission into the dwelling of the hermit, proceeds to make good an entrance by force. Here, it will be remembered, the words of the narrative run thus
: "And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was now mighty withal, on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he had drunken, waited no longer to hold parley with the hermit, who, in sooth, was of an obstinate and maliceful turn, but, feeling the rain upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest, uplifted his mace outright, and, with blows, made quickly room in the plankings of the door for his gauntleted hand; and now pulling there-with sturdily, he so cracked, and ripped, and tore all asunder, that the noise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarumed and reverberated throughout the forest.
At the termination of this sentence I started, and for a moment, paused; for it appeared to me (although I at once concluded that my excited fancy had deceived me)--it appeared to me that, from some very remote portion of the mansion, there came, indistinctly, to my ears, what might have been, in its exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled and dull one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping sound which Sir Launcelot had so particularly described. It was, beyond doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested my attention; for, amid the rattling of the sashes of the casements, and the ordinary commingled noises of the still increasing storm, the sound, in itself, had nothing, surely, which should have interested or disturbed me. I continued the story:
"But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, was sore enraged and amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit; but, in the stead thereof, a dragon of a scaly and prodigious demeanour, and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a palace of gold, with a floor of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shield of shining brass with this legend enwritten--
Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin;
Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win...
And Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the head of the dragon, which fell before him, and gave up his pesty breath, with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and withal so piercing, that Ethelred had fain to close his ears with his hands against the dreadful noise of it, the like whereof was never before heard."
Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild amazement --for there could be no doubt whatever that, in this instance, I did actually hear (although from what direction it proceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but harsh, protracted, and most unusual screaming or grating sound--the exact counterpart of what my fancy had already conjured up for the dragon's unnatural shriek as described by the romancer.
Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of the second and most extraordinary coincidence, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder and extreme terror were predominant, I still retained sufficient presence of mind to avoid exciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by no means certain that he had noticed the sounds in question; although, assuredly, a strange alteration had, during the last few minutes, taken place in his demeanour. From a position fronting my own, he had gradually brought round his chair, so as to sit with his face to the door of the chamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his features, although I saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuring inaudibly. His head had dropped upon his breast--yet I knew that he was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the eye as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was at variance with this idea--for he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant and uniform sway. Having rapidly taken notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which thus proceeded:
"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the dragon, bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking up of the enchantment which was upon it, removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and approached valorously over the silver pavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall; which in sooth tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound."
No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than--as if a shield of brass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of silver became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation. Completely unnerved, I leaped to my feet; but the measured rocking movement of Usher was undisturbed. I rushed to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before him, and throughout his whole countenance there reigned a stony rigidity. But, as I placed my hand upon his shoulder, there came a strong shudder over his whole person; a sickly smile quivered about his lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and gibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closely over him, I at length drank in the hideous import of his words.
"Now hear it?--yes, I hear it, and have heard it. Long--long --long--many minutes, many hours, many days, have I heard it--yet I dared not--oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am!--I dared not--I dared not speak! We have put her living in the tomb! Said I not that my senses were acute? I now tell you that I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin. I heard them--many, many days ago--yet I dared not--I dared not speak! And now--to-night--Ethelred--ha! ha!--the breaking of the hermit's door, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangour of the shield!--say, rather, the rending of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges of her prison, and her struggles within the coppered archway of the vault! Oh whither shall I fly? Will she not be here anon? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste? Have I not heard her footstep on the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman!" here he sprang furiously to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he were giving up his soul--"Madman! I tell you that she now stands without the door!"
As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been found the potency of a spell--the huge antique panels to which the speaker pointed, threw slowly back, upon the instant, ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust--but then without those doors there DID stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold, then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated.
From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The storm was still abroad in all its wrath as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could wi have issued; for the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon which now shone vividly through that once barely-discernible fissure of which I have before spoken as extending from the roof of the building, in a zigzag direction, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened--there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind--the entire orb of the satellite burst at once upon my sight--my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder--there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters--and the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House of Usher."