Impia tortorum longas hic turba
furores Sanguinis innocui non
satiata, aluit. Sospite nunc
patria, fracto nunc funeris antro,
Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque
patent.
- Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be erected upon the site
of the Jacobin Club
House in Paris.
I WAS sick, sick unto death,
with that long agony, and when
they at length unbound me, and
I was permitted to sit, I felt
that my senses were leaving me.
The sentence, the dread sentence
of death, was the last of distinct
accentuation which reached my
ears. After that, the sound of
the inquisitorial voices seemed
merged in one dreamy indeterminate
hum. It conveyed to my soul the
idea of REVOLUTION, perhaps from
its association in fancy with
the burr of a mill-wheel. This
only for a brief period, for
presently I heard no more. Yet,
for a while, I saw, but with
how terrible an exaggeration
! I saw the lips of the black-robed
judges. They appeared to me white
-- whiter than the sheet upon
which I trace these words --
and thin even to grotesqueness;
thin with the intensity of their
expression of firmness, of immovable
resolution, of stern contempt
of human torture. I saw that
the decrees of what to me was
fate were still issuing from
those lips. I saw them writhe
with a deadly locution. I saw
them fashion the syllables of
my name, and I shuddered, because
no sound succeeded. I saw, too,
for a few moments of delirious
horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible
waving of the sable draperies
which enwrapped the walls of
the apartment; and then my vision
fell upon the seven tall candles
upon the table. At first they
wore the aspect of charity, and
seemed white slender angels who
would save me: but then all at
once there came a most deadly
nausea over my spirit, and I
felt every fibre in my frame
thrill, as if I had touched the
wire of a galvanic battery, while
the angel forms became meaningless
spectres, with heads of flame,
and I saw that from them there
would be no help. And then there
stole into my fancy, like a rich
musical note, the thought of
what sweet rest there must be
in the grave. The thought came
gently and stealthily, and it
seemed long before it attained
full appreciation; but just as
my spirit came at length properly
to feel and entertain it, the
figures of the judges vanished,
as if magically, from before
me; the tall candles sank into
nothingness; their flames went
out utterly; the blackness of
darkness superened ; all sensations
appeared swallowed up in a mad
rushing descent as of the soul
into Hades. Then silence, and
stillness, and night were the
universe.
I had swooned; but still will
not say that all of consciousness
was lost. What of it there remained
I will not attempt to define,
or even to describe; yet all
was not lost. In the deepest
slumber -- no! In delirium --
no! In a swoon -- no! In death
-- no! Even in the grave all
was not lost. Else there is no
immortality for man. Arousing
from the most profound of slumbers,
we break the gossamer web of
some dream. Yet in a second afterwards
(so frail may that web have been)
we remember not that we have
dreamed. In the return to life
from the swoon there are two
stages; first, that of the sense
of mental or spiritual; secondly,
that of the sense of physical
existence. It seems probable
that if, upon reaching the second
stage, we could recall the impressions
of the first, we should find
these impressions eloquent in
memories of the gulf beyond.
And that gulf is, what? How at
least shall we distinguish its
shadows from those of the tomb?
But if the impressions of what
I have termed the first stage
are not at will recalled, yet,
after long interval, do they
not come unbidden, while we marvel
whence they come? He who has
never swooned is not he who finds
strange palaces and wildly familiar
faces in coals that glow; is
not he who beholds floating in
mid-air the sad visions that
the many may not view; is not
he who ponders over the perfume
of some novel flower; is not
he whose brain grows bewildered
with the meaning of some musical
cadence which has never before
arrested his attention.
Amid frequent and thoughtful
endeavours to remember , amid
earnest struggles to regather
some token of the state of seeming
nothingness into which my soul
had lapsed, there have been moments
when I have dreamed of success;
there have been brief, very brief
periods when I have conjured
up remembrances which the lucid
reason of a later epoch assures
me could have had reference only
to that condition of seeming
unconsciousness. These shadows
of memory tell indistinctly of
tall figures that lifted and
bore me in silence down -- down
-- still down -- till a hideous
dizziness oppressed me at the
mere idea of the interminableness
of the descent. They tell also
of a vague horror at my heart
on account of that heart's unnatural
stillness. Then comes a sense
of sudden motionlessness throughout
all things; as if those who bore
me (a ghastly train!) had outrun,
in their descent, the limits
of the limitless , and paused
from the wearisomeness of their
toil. After this I call to mind
flatness and dampness; and then
all is MADNESS -- the madness
of a memory which busies itself
among forbidden things.
Very suddenly there came back
to my soul motion and sound --
the tumultuous motion of the
heart, and in my ears the sound
of its beating. Then a pause
in which all is blank. Then again
sound, and motion, and touch,
a tingling sensation pervading
my frame. Then the mere consciousness
of existence, without thought,
a condition which lasted long.
Then, very suddenly, THOUGHT,
and shuddering terror, and earnest
endeavour to comprehend my true
state. Then a strong desire to
lapse into insensibility. Then
a rushing revival of soul and
a successful effort to move.
And now a full memory of the
trial, of the judges, of the
sable draperies, of the sentence,
of the sickness, of the swoon.
Then entire forgetfulness of
all that followed; of all that
a later day and much earnestness
of endeavour have enabled me
vaguely to recall.
So far I had not opened my
eyes. I felt that I lay upon
my back unbound. I reached out
my hand, and it fell heavily
upon something damp and hard.
There I suffered it to remain
for many minutes, while I strove
to imagine where and what I could
be. I longed, yet dared not,
to employ my vision. I dreaded
the first glance at objects around
me. It was not that I feared
to look upon things horrible,
but that I grew aghast lest there
should be NOTHING to see. At
length, with a wild desperation
at heart, I quickly unclosed
my eyes. My worst thoughts, then,
were confirmed. The blackness
of eternal night encompassed
me. I struggled for breath. The
intensity of the darkness seemed
to oppress and stifle me. The
atmosphere was intolerably close.
I still lay quietly, and made
effort to exercise my reason.
I brought to mind the inquisitorial
proceedings, and attempted from
that point to deduce my real
condition. The sentence had passed,
and it appeared to me that a
very long interval of time had
since elapsed. Yet not for a
moment did I suppose myself actually
dead. Such a supposition, notwithstanding
what we read in fiction , is
altogether inconsistent with
real existence; -- but where
and in what state was I? The
condemned to death, I knew, perished
usually at the auto-da-fes, and
one of these had been held on
the very night of the day of
my trial. Had I been remanded
to my dungeon, to await the next
sacrifice, which would not take
place for many months? This I
at once saw could not be. Victims
had been in immediate demand.
Moreover my dungeon, as well
as all the condemned cells at
Toledo, had stone floors, and
light was not altogether excluded.
A fearful idea now suddenly
drove the blood in torrents upon
my heart, and for a brief period
I once more relapsed into insensibility.
Upon recovering, I at once started
to my feet, trembling convulsively
in every fibre. I thrust my arms
wildly above and around me in
all directions. I felt nothing;
yet dreaded to move a step, lest
I should be impeded by the walls
of a TOMB. Perspiration burst
from every pore, and stood in
cold big beads upon my forehead.
The agony of suspense grew at
length intolerable, and I cautiously
moved forward, with my arms extended
, and my eyes straining from
their sockets, in the hope of
catching some faint ray of light.
I proceeded for many paces, but
still all was blackness and vacancy.
I breathed more freely. It seemed
evident that mine was not, at
least, the most hideous of fates.
And now, as I still continued
to step cautiously onward, there
came thronging upon my recollection
a thousand vague rumours of the
horrors of Toledo. Of the dungeons
there had been strange things
narrated -- fables I had always
deemed them -- but yet strange,
and too ghastly to repeat, save
in a whisper. Was I left to perish
of starvation in this subterranean
world of darkness; or what fate
perhaps even more fearful awaited
me? That the result would be
death, and a death of more than
customary bitterness, I knew
too well the character of my
judges to doubt. The mode and
the hour were all that occupied
or distracted me.
My outstretched hands at length
encountered some solid obstruction.
It was a wall, seemingly of stone
masonry -- very smooth, slimy,
and cold. I followed it up; stepping
with all the careful distrust
with which certain antique narratives
had inspired me. This process,
however, afforded me no means
of ascertaining the dimensions
of my dungeon; as I might make
its circuit, and return to the
point whence I set out, without
being aware of the fact, so perfectly
uniform seemed the wall. I therefore
sought the knife which had been
in my pocket when led into the
inquisitorial chamber, but it
was gone; my clothes had been
exchanged for a wrapper of coarse
serge. I had thought of forcing
the blade in some minute crevice
of the masonry, so as to identify
my point of departure. The difficulty,
nevertheless, was but trivial,
although, in the disorder of
my fancy, it seemed at first
insuperable. I tore a part of
the hem from the robe, and placed
the fragment at full length,
and at right angles to the wall.
In groping my way around the
prison, I could not fail to encounter
this rag upon completing the
circuit. So, at least, I thought,
but I had not counted upon the
extent of the dungeon, or upon
my own weakness. The ground was
moist and slippery. I staggered
onward for some time, when I
stumbled and fell. My excessive
fatigue induced me to remain
prostrate, and sleep soon overtook
me as I lay.
Upon awaking, and stretching
forth an arm, I found beside
me a loaf and a pitcher with
water. I was too much exhausted
to reflect upon this circumstance
, but ate and drank with avidity.
Shortly afterwards I resumed
my tour around the prison, and
with much toil came at last upon
the fragment of the serge. Up
to the period when I fell I had
counted fifty-two paces, and
upon resuming my walk I had counted
forty-eight more, when I arrived
at the rag. There were in all,
then, a hundred paces; and, admitting
two paces to the yard, I presumed
the dungeon to be fifty yards
in circuit. I had met, however,
with many angles in the wall,
and thus I could form no guess
at the shape of the vault, for
vault I could not help supposing
it to be.
I had little object -- certainly
no hope -- in these researches,
but a vague curiosity prompted
me to continue them. Quitting
the wall, I resolved to cross
the area of the enclosure. At
first I proceeded with extreme
caution, for the floor although
seemingly of solid material was
treacherous with slime. At length,
however, I took courage and did
not hesitate to step firmly --
endeavouring to cross in as direct
a line as possible. I had advanced
some ten or twelve paces in this
manner, when the remnant of the
torn hem of my robe became entangled
between my legs. I stepped on
it, and fell violently on my
face.
In the confusion attending
my fall, I did not immediately
apprehend a somewhat startling
circumstance , which yet, in
a few seconds afterward, and
while I still lay prostrate,
arrested my attention. It was
this: my chin rested upon the
floor of the prison, but my lips,
and the upper portion of my head,
although seemingly at a less
elevation than the chin, touched
nothing. At the same time, my
forehead seemed bathed in a clammy
vapour, and the peculiar smell
of decayed fungus arose to my
nostrils. I put forward my arm,
and shuddered to find that I
had fallen at the very brink
of a circular pit, whose extent
of course I had no means of ascertaining
at the moment. Groping about
the masonry just below the margin,
I succeeded in dislodging a small
fragment, and let it fall into
the abyss. For many seconds I
hearkened to its reverberations
as it dashed against the sides
of the chasm in its descent ;
at length there was a sullen
plunge into water, succeeded
by loud echoes. At the same moment
there came a sound resembling
the quick opening, and as rapid
closing of a door overhead, while
a faint gleam of light flashed
suddenly through the gloom, and
as suddenly faded away.
I saw clearly the doom which
had been prepared for me, and
congratulated myself upon the
timely accident by which I had
escaped. Another step before
my fall, and the world had seen
me no more and the death just
avoided was of that very character
which I had regarded as fabulous
and frivolous in the tales respecting
the Inquisition. To the victims
of its tyranny, there was the
choice of death with its direst
physical agonies, or death with
its most hideous moral horrors.
I had been reserved for the latter.
By long suffering my nerves had
been unstrung, until I trembled
at the sound of my own voice,
and had become in every respect
a fitting subject for the species
of torture which awaited me.
Shaking in every limb, I groped
my way back to the wall -- resolving
there to perish rather than risk
the terrors of the wells, of
which my imagination now pictured
many in various positions about
the dungeon. In other conditions
of mind I might have had courage
to end my misery at once by a
plunge into one of these abysses;
but now I was the veriest of
cowards. Neither could I forget
what I had read of these pits
-- that the SUDDEN extinction
of life formed no part of their
most horrible plan.
Agitation of spirit kept me
awake for many long hours; but
at length I again slumbered.
Upon arousing, I found by my
side, as before, a loaf and a
pitcher of water. A burning thirst
consumed me, and I emptied the
vessel at a draught. It must
have been drugged, for scarcely
had I drunk before I became irresistibly
drowsy. A deep sleep fell upon
me -- a sleep like that of death.
How long it lasted of course
I know not; but when once again
I unclosed my eyes the objects
around me were visible. By a
wild sulphurous lustre, the origin
of which I could not at first
determine, I was enabled to see
the extent and aspect of the
prison.
In its size I had been greatly
mistaken. The whole circuit of
its walls did not exceed twenty-five
yards. For some minutes this
fact occasioned me a world of
vain trouble; vain indeed --
for what could be of less importance,
under the terrible circumstances
which environed me than the mere
dimensions of my dungeon? But
my soul took a wild interest
in trifles, and I busied myself
in endeavours to account for
the error I had committed in
my measurement. The truth at
length flashed upon me. In my
first attempt at exploration
I had counted fifty-two paces
up to the period when I fell;
I must then have been within
a pace or two of the fragment
of serge; in fact I had nearly
performed the circuit of the
vault. I then slept, and upon
awaking, I must have returned
upon my steps, thus supposing
the circuit nearly double what
it actually was. My confusion
of mind prevented me from observing
that I began my tour with the
wall to the left, and ended it
with the wall to the right.
I had been deceived too in
respect to the shape of the enclosure.
In feeling my way I had found
many angles, and thus deduced
an idea of great irregularity,
so potent is the effect of total
darkness upon one arousing from
lethargy or sleep! The angles
were simply those of a few slight
depressions or niches at odd
intervals. The general shape
of the prison was square. What
I had taken for masonry seemed
now to be iron, or some other
metal in huge plates, whose sutures
or joints occasioned the depression.
The entire surface of this metallic
enclosure was rudely daubed in
all the hideous and repulsive
devices to which the charnel
superstition of the monks has
given rise. The figures of fiends
in aspects of menace, with skeleton
forms and other more really fearful
images, overspread and disfigured
the walls. I observed that the
outlines of these monstrosities
were sufficiently distinct, but
that the colours seemed faded
and blurred, as if from the effects
of a damp atmosphere. I now noticed
the floor, too, which was of
stone. In the centre yawned the
circular pit from whose jaws
I had escaped ; but it was the
only one in the dungeon.
All this I saw indistinctly
and by much effort, for my personal
condition had been greatly changed
during slumber. I now lay upon
my back, and at full length,
on a species of low framework
of wood. To this I was securely
bound by a long strap resembling
a surcingle. It passed in many
convolutions about my limbs and
body, leaving at liberty only
my head, and my left arm to such
extent that I could by dint of
much exertion supply myself with
food from an earthen dish which
lay by my side on the floor.
I saw to my horror that the pitcher
had been removed . I say to my
horror, for I was consumed with
intolerable thirst. This thirst
it appeared to be the design
of my persecutors to stimulate,
for the food in the dish was
meat pungently seasoned.
Looking upward, I surveyed
the ceiling of my prison. It
was some thirty or forty feet
overhead, and constructed much
as the side walls. In one of
its panels a very singular figure
riveted my whole attention .
It was the painted figure of
Time as he is commonly represented,
save that in lieu of a scythe
he held what at a casual glance
I supposed to be the pictured
image of a huge pendulum, such
as we see on antique clocks.
There was something, however,
in the appearance of this machine
which caused me to regard it
more attentively. While I gazed
directly upward at it (for its
position was immediately over
my own), I fancied that I saw
it in motion. In an instant afterward
the fancy was confirmed. Its
sweep was brief, and of course
slow. I watched it for some minutes,
somewhat in fear but more in
wonder. Wearied at length with
observing its dull movement,
I turned my eyes upon the other
objects in the cell.
A slight noise attracted my
notice, and looking to the floor,
I saw several enormous rats traversing
it. They had issued from the
well which lay just within view
to my right. Even then while
I gazed, they came up in troops
hurriedly, with ravenous eyes,
allured by the scent of the meat.
From this it required much effort
and attention to scare them away.
It might have been half-an-hour,
perhaps even an hour (for I could
take but imperfect note of time)
before I again cast my eyes upward.
What I then saw confounded and
amazed me. The sweep of the pendulum
had increased in extent by nearly
a yard. As a natural consequence,
its velocity was also much greater.
But what mainly disturbed me
was the idea that it had perceptibly
DESCENDED. I now observed, with
what horror it is needless to
say, that its nether extremity
was formed of a crescent of glittering
steel, about a foot in length
from horn to horn; the horns
upward, and the under edge evidently
as keen as that of a razor. Like
a razor also it seemed massy
and heavy, tapering from the
edge into a solid and broad structure
above. It was appended to a weighty
rod of brass, and the whole HISSED
as it swung through the air.
I could no longer doubt the
doom prepared for me by monkish
ingenuity in torture. My cognisance
of the pit had become known to
the inquisitorial agents -- THE
PIT, whose horrors had been destined
for so bold a recusant as myself,
THE PIT, typical of hell, and
regarded by rumour as the Ultima
Thule of all their punishments.
The plunge into this pit I had
avoided by the merest of accidents,
and I knew that surprise or entrapment
into torment formed an important
portion of all the grotesquerie
of these dungeon deaths. Having
failed to fall, it was no part
of the demon plan to hurl me
into the abyss, and thus (there
being no alternative) a different
and a milder destruction awaited
me. Milder! I half smiled in
my agony as I thought of such
application of such a term.
What boots it to tell of the
long, long hours of horror more
than mortal, during which I counted
the rushing oscillations of the
steel! Inch by inch -- line by
line -- with a descent only appreciable
at intervals that seemed ages
-- down and still down it came!
Days passed -- it might have
been that many days passed --
ere it swept so closely over
me as to fan me with its acrid
breath. The odour of the sharp
steel forced itself into my nostrils.
I prayed -- I wearied heaven
with my prayer for its more speedy
descent. I grew frantically mad,
and struggled to force myself
upward against the sweep of the
fearful scimitar. And then I
fell suddenly calm and lay smiling
at the glittering death as a
child at some rare bauble.
There was another interval
of utter insensibility; it was
brief, for upon again lapsing
into life there had been no perceptible
descent in the pendulum. But
it might have been long -- for
I knew there were demons who
took note of my swoon, and who
could have arrested the vibration
at pleasure. Upon my recovery,
too, I felt very -- oh! inexpressibly
-- sick and weak, as if through
long inanition. Even amid the
agonies of that period the human
nature craved food. With painful
effort I outstretched my left
arm as far as my bonds permitted,
and took possession of the small
remnant which had been spared
me by the rats. As I put a portion
of it within my lips there rushed
to my mind a half-formed thought
of joy -- of hope. Yet what business
had I with hope? It was, as I
say, a half-formed thought --
man has many such, which are
never completed. I felt that
it was of joy -- of hope; but
I felt also that it had perished
in its formation. In vain I struggled
to perfect -- to regain it. Long
suffering had nearly annihilated
all my ordinary powers of mind.
I was an imbecile -- an idiot.
The vibration of the pendulum
was at right angles to my length.
I saw that the crescent was designed
to cross the region of the heart.
It would fray the serge of my
robe; it would return and repeat
its operations -- again -- and
again. Notwithstanding its terrifically
wide sweep (some thirty feet
or more) and the hissing vigour
of its descent, sufficient to
sunder these very walls of iron,
still the fraying of my robe
would be all that, for several
minutes, it would accomplish;
and at this thought I paused.
I dared not go farther than this
reflection. I dwelt upon it with
a pertinacity of attention --
as if, in so dwelling, I could
arrest HERE the descent of the
steel. I forced myself to ponder
upon the sound of the crescent
as it should pass across the
garment -- upon the peculiar
thrilling sensation which the
friction of cloth produces on
the nerves. I pondered upon all
this frivolity until my teeth
were on edge.
Down -- steadily down it crept.
I took a frenzied pleasure in
contrasting its downward with
its lateral velocity. To the
right -- to the left -- far and
wide -- with the shriek of a
damned spirit! to my heart with
the stealthy pace of the tiger!
I alternately laughed and howled,
as the one or the other idea
grew predominant.
Down -- certainly, relentlessly
down! It vibrated within three
inches of my bosom! I struggled
violently -- furiously -- to
free my left arm. This was free
only from the elbow to the hand.
I could reach the latter, from
the platter beside me to my mouth
with great effort, but no farther.
Could I have broken the fastenings
above the elbow, I would have
seized and attempted to arrest
the pendulum. I might as well
have attempted to arrest an avalanche!
Down -- still unceasingly --
still inevitably down! I gasped
and struggled at each vibration.
I shrunk convulsively at its
very sweep. My eyes followed
its outward or upward whirls
with the eagerness of the most
unmeaning despair; they closed
themselves spasmodically at the
descent, although death would
have been a relief, O, how unspeakable!
Still I quivered in every nerve
to think how slight a sinking
of the machinery would precipitate
that keen glistening axe upon
my bosom. It was hope that prompted
the nerve to quiver -- the frame
to shrink. It was HOPE -- the
hope that triumphs on the rack
-- that whispers to the death-condemned
even in the dungeons of the Inquisition.
I saw that some ten or twelve
vibrations would bring the steel
in actual contact with my robe,
and with this observation there
suddenly came over my spirit
all the keen, collected calmness
of despair. For the first time
during many hours, or perhaps
days, I THOUGHT. It now occurred
to me that the bandage or surcingle
which enveloped me was UNIQUE.
I was tied by no separate cord.
The first stroke of the razor-like
crescent athwart any portion
of the band would so detach it
that it might be unwound from
my person by means of my left
hand. But how fearful, in that
case, the proximity of the steel!
The result of the slightest struggle,
how deadly! Was it likely, moreover,
that the minions of the torturer
had not foreseen and provided
for this possibility! Was it
probable that the bandage crossed
my bosom in the track of the
pendulum? Dreading to find my
faint, and, as it seemed, my
last hope frustrated, I so far
elevated my head as to obtain
a distinct view of my breast.
The surcingle enveloped my limbs
and body close in all directions
save SAVE IN THE PATH OF THE
DESTROYING CRESCENT.
Scarcely had I dropped my head
back into its original position
when there flashed upon my mind
what I cannot better describe
than as the unformed half of
that idea of deliverance to which
I have previously alluded, and
of which a moiety only floated
indeterminately through my brain
when I raised food to my burning
lips. The whole thought was now
present -- feeble, scarcely sane,
scarcely definite, but still
entire. I proceeded at once,
with the nervous energy of despair,
to attempt its execution.
For many hours
the immediate vicinity of the
low framework
upon which I lay had been literally
swarming with rats. They were
wild, bold, ravenous , their
red eyes glaring upon me as if
they waited but for motionlessness
on my part to make me their prey. "To
what food," I thought, "have
they been accustomed in the well?"
They had devoured, in spite
of all my efforts to prevent
them, all but a small remnant
of the contents of the dish.
I had fallen into an habitual
see-saw or wave of the hand about
the platter; and at length the
unconscious uniformity of the
movement deprived it of effect.
In their voracity the vermin
frequently fastened their sharp
fangs in my fingers. With the
particles of the oily and spicy
viand which now remained, I thoroughly
rubbed the bandage wherever I
could reach it; then, raising
my hand from the floor, I lay
breathlessly still.
At first the ravenous animals
were startled and terrified at
the change -- at the cessation
of movement . They shrank alarmedly
back; many sought the well. But
this was only for a moment. I
had not counted in vain upon
their voracity. Observing that
I remained without motion, one
or two of the boldest leaped
upon the frame-work and smelt
at the surcingle. This seemed
the signal for a general rush.
Forth from the well they hurried
in fresh troops. They clung to
the wood, they overran it, and
leaped in hundreds upon my person.
The measured movement of the
pendulum disturbed them not at
all. Avoiding its strokes, they
busied themselves with the annointed
bandage. They pressed, they swarmed
upon me in ever accumulating
heaps. They writhed upon my throat;
their cold lips sought my own;
I was half stifled by their thronging
pressure; disgust, for which
the world has no name, swelled
my bosom, and chilled with heavy
clamminess my heart. Yet one
minute and I felt that the struggle
would be over. Plainly I perceived
the loosening of the bandage.
I knew that in more than one
place it must be already severed.
With a more than human resolution
I lay STILL.
Nor had I erred in my calculations,
nor had I endured in vain. I
at length felt that I was FREE.
The surcingle hung in ribands
from my body. But the stroke
of the pendulum already pressed
upon my bosom. It had divided
the serge of the robe. It had
cut through the linen beneath.
Twice again it swung, and a sharp
sense of pain shot through every
nerve. But the moment of escape
had arrived. At a wave of my
hand my deliverers hurried tumultously
away. With a steady movement,
cautious, sidelong, shrinking,
and slow, I slid from the embrace
of the bandage and beyond the
reach of the scimitar. For the
moment, at least I WAS FREE.
Free! and in the grasp of the
Inquisition! I had scarcely stepped
from my wooden bed of horror
upon the stone floor of the prison,
when the motion of the hellish
machine ceased and I beheld it
drawn up by some invisible force
through the ceiling. This was
a lesson which I took desperately
to heart. My every motion was
undoubtedly watched. Free! I
had but escaped death in one
form of agony to be delivered
unto worse than death in some
other. With that thought I rolled
my eyes nervously around on the
barriers of iron that hemmed
me in. Something unusual -- some
change which at first I could
not appreciate distinctly --
it was obvious had taken place
in the apartment. For many minutes
of a dreamy and trembling abstraction
I busied myself in vain, unconnected
conjecture. During this period
I became aware, for the first
time, of the origin of the sulphurous
light which illumined the cell.
It proceeded from a fissure about
half-an-inch in width extending
entirely around the prison at
the base of the walls which thus
appeared, and were completely
separated from the floor. I endeavoured,
but of course in vain, to look
through the aperture.
As I arose from the attempt,
the mystery of the alteration
in the chamber broke at once
upon my understanding. I have
observed that although the outlines
of the figures upon the walls
were sufficiently distinct, yet
the colours seemed blurred and
indefinite . These colours had
now assumed, and were momentarily
assuming, a startling and most
intense brilliancy, that give
to the spectral and fiendish
portraitures an aspect that might
have thrilled even firmer nerves
than my own. Demon eyes, of a
wild and ghastly vivacity, glared
upon me in a thousand directions
where none had been visible before,
and gleamed with the lurid lustre
of a fire that I could not force
my imagination to regard as unreal.
UNREAL! -- Even while I breathed
there came to my nostrils the
breath of the vapour of heated
iron! A suffocating odour pervaded
the prison! A deeper glow settled
each moment in the eyes that
glared at my agonies! A richer
tint of crimson diffused itself
over the pictured horrors of
blood. I panted ' I gasped for
breath! There could be no doubt
of the design of my tormentors
-- oh most unrelenting! oh, most
demoniac of men! I shrank from
the glowing metal to the centre
of the cell. Amid the thought
of the fiery destruction that
impended, the idea of the coolness
of the well came over my soul
like balm. I rushed to its deadly
brink. I threw my straining vision
below. The glare from the enkindled
roof illumined its inmost recesses.
Yet, for a wild moment, did my
spirit refuse to comprehend the
meaning of what I saw. At length
it forced -- it wrestled its
way into my soul -- it burned
itself in upon my shuddering
reason. O for a voice to speak!
-- oh, horror! -- oh, any horror
but this! With a shriek I rushed
from the margin and buried my
face in my hands -- weeping bitterly.
The heat rapidly
increased, and once again I
looked up, shuddering
as if with a fit of the ague.
There had been a second change
in the cell -- and now the change
was obviously in the FORM. As
before , it was in vain that
I at first endeavoured to appreciate
or understand what was taking
place. But not long was I left
in doubt. The inquisitorial vengeance
had been hurried by my two-fold
escape, and there was to be no
more dallying with the King of
Terrors. The room had been square.
I saw that two of its iron angles
were now acute -- two consequently,
obtuse. The fearful difference
quickly increased with a low
rumbling or moaning sound. In
an instant the apartment had
shifted its form into that of
a lozenge. But the alteration
stopped not here -- I neither
hoped nor desired it to stop.
I could have clasped the red
walls to my bosom as a garment
of eternal peace. "Death," I
said "any death but that of the
pit!" Fool! might I not have
known that INTO THE PIT it was
the object of the burning iron
to urge me? Could I resist its
glow? or if even that, could
I withstand its pressure ? And
now, flatter and flatter grew
the lozenge, with a rapidity
that left me no time for contempla-
tion. Its centre, and of course,
its greatest width, came just
over the yawning gulf. I shrank
back -- but the closing walls
pressed me resistlessly onward
. At length for my seared and
writhing body there was no longer
an inch of foothold on the firm
floor of the prison. I struggled
no more, but the agony of my
soul found vent in one loud,
long, and final scream of despair.
I felt that I tottered upon the
brink -- I averted my eyes --
There was a discordant hum
of human voices! There was a
loud blast as of many trumpets!
There was a harsh grating as
of a thousand thunders! The fiery
walls rushed back! An outstretched
arm caught my own as I fell fainting
into the abyss. It was that of
General Lasalle. The French army
had entered Toledo. The Inquisition
was in the hands of its enemies. |