THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY

                            THE DEVIL IN THE BELFRY
                               by Edgar Allan Poe

                      What o'clock is it?
                                          Old Saying.

  EVERYBODY knows, in a general way, that the finest place in the
world is- or, alas, was- the Dutch borough of Vondervotteimittiss. Yet
as it lies some distance from any of the main roads, being in a
somewhat out-of-the-way situation, there are perhaps very few of my
readers who have ever paid it a visit. For the benefit of those who
have not, therefore, it will be only proper that I should enter into
some account of it. And this is indeed the more necessary, as with the
hope of enlisting public sympathy in behalf of the inhabitants, I
design here to give a history of the calamitous events which have so
lately occurred within its limits. No one who knows me will doubt that
the duty thus self-imposed will be executed to the best of my ability,
with all that rigid impartiality, all that cautious examination into
facts, and diligent collation of authorities, which should ever
distinguish him who aspires to the title of historian.
  By the united aid of medals, manuscripts, and inscriptions, I am
enabled to say, positively, that the borough of Vondervotteimittiss
has existed, from its origin, in precisely the same condition which it
at present preserves. Of the date of this origin, however, I grieve
that I can only speak with that species of indefinite definiteness
which mathematicians are, at times, forced to put up with in certain
algebraic formulae. The date, I may thus say, in regard to the
remoteness of its antiquity, cannot be less than any assignable
quantity whatsoever.
  Touching the derivation of the name Vondervotteimittiss, I confess
myself, with sorrow, equally at fault. Among a multitude of opinions
upon this delicate point- some acute, some learned, some
sufficiently the reverse- I am able to select nothing which ought to
be considered satisfactory. Perhaps the idea of Grogswigg- nearly
coincident with that of Kroutaplenttey- is to be cautiously
preferred.- It runs:- Vondervotteimittis- Vonder, lege Donder-
Votteimittis, quasi und Bleitziz- Bleitziz obsol:- pro Blitzen."
This derivative, to say the truth, is still countenanced by some
traces of the electric fluid evident on the summit of the steeple of
the House of the Town-Council. I do not choose, however, to commit
myself on a theme of such importance, and must refer the reader
desirous of information to the "Oratiunculae de Rebus
Praeter-Veteris," of Dundergutz. See, also, Blunderbuzzard "De
Derivationibus," pp. 27 to 5010, Folio, Gothic edit., Red and Black
character, Catch-word and No Cypher; wherein consult, also, marginal
notes in the autograph of Stuffundpuff, with the Sub-Commentaries of
Gruntundguzzell.
  Notwithstanding the obscurity which thus envelops the date of the
foundation of Vondervotteimittis, and the derivation of its name,
there can be no doubt, as I said before, that it has always existed as
we find it at this epoch. The oldest man in the borough can remember
not the slightest difference in the appearance of any portion of it;
and, indeed, the very suggestion of such a possibility is considered
an insult. The site of the village is in a perfectly circular
valley, about a quarter of a mile in circumference, and entirely
surrounded by gentle hills, over whose summit the people have never
yet ventured to pass. For this they assign the very good reason that
they do not believe there is anything at all on the other side.
  Round the skirts of the valley (which is quite level, and paved
throughout with flat tiles), extends a continuous row of sixty
little houses. These, having their backs on the hills, must look, of
course, to the centre of the plain, which is just sixty yards from the
front door of each dwelling. Every house has a small garden before it,
with a circular path, a sun-dial, and twenty-four cabbages. The
buildings themselves are so precisely alike, that one can in no manner
be distinguished from the other. Owing to the vast antiquity, the
style of architecture is somewhat odd, but it is not for that reason
the less strikingly picturesque. They are fashioned of hard-burned
little bricks, red, with black ends, so that the walls look like a
chess-board upon a great scale. The gables are turned to the front,
and there are cornices, as big as all the rest of the house, over
the eaves and over the main doors. The windows are narrow and deep,
with very tiny panes and a great deal of sash. On the roof is a vast
quantity of tiles with long curly ears. The woodwork, throughout, is
of a dark hue and there is much carving about it, with but a
trifling variety of pattern for, time out of mind, the carvers of
Vondervotteimittiss have never been able to carve more than two
objects- a time-piece and a cabbage. But these they do exceedingly
well, and intersperse them, with singular ingenuity, wherever they
find room for the chisel.
  The dwellings are as much alike inside as out, and the furniture
is all upon one plan. The floors are of square tiles, the chairs and
tables of black-looking wood with thin crooked legs and puppy feet.
The mantelpieces are wide and high, and have not only time-pieces
and cabbages sculptured over the front, but a real time-piece, which
makes a prodigious ticking, on the top in the middle, with a
flower-pot containing a cabbage standing on each extremity by way of
outrider. Between each cabbage and the time-piece, again, is a
little China man having a large stomach with a great round hole in it,
through which is seen the dial-plate of a watch.
  The fireplaces are large and deep, with fierce crooked-looking
fire-dogs. There is constantly a rousing fire, and a huge pot over it,
full of sauer-kraut and pork, to which the good woman of the house
is always busy in attending. She is a little fat old lady, with blue
eyes and a red face, and wears a huge cap like a sugar-loaf,
ornamented with purple and yellow ribbons. Her dress is of
orange-colored linsey-woolsey, made very full behind and very short in
the waist- and indeed very short in other respects, not reaching below
the middle of her leg. This is somewhat thick, and so are her
ankles, but she has a fine pair of green stockings to cover them.
Her shoes- of pink leather- are fastened each with a bunch of yellow
ribbons puckered up in the shape of a cabbage. In her left hand she
has a little heavy Dutch watch; in her right she wields a ladle for
the sauerkraut and pork. By her side there stands a fat tabby cat,
with a gilt toy-repeater tied to its tail, which "the boys" have there
fastened by way of a quiz.
  The boys themselves are, all three of them, in the garden
attending the pig. They are each two feet in height. They have
three-cornered cocked hats, purple waistcoats reaching down to their
thighs, buckskin knee-breeches, red stockings, heavy shoes with big
silver buckles, long surtout coats with large buttons of
mother-of-pearl. Each, too, has a pipe in his mouth, and a little
dumpy watch in his right hand. He takes a puff and a look, and then
a look and a puff. The pig- which is corpulent and lazy- is occupied
now in picking up the stray leaves that fall from the cabbages, and
now in giving a kick behind at the gilt repeater, which the urchins
have also tied to his tail in order to make him look as handsome as
the cat.
  Right at the front door, in a high-backed leather-bottomed armed
chair, with crooked legs and puppy feet like the tables, is seated the
old man of the house himself. He is an exceedingly puffy little old
gentleman, with big circular eyes and a huge double chin. His dress
resembles that of the boys- and I need say nothing farther about it.
All the difference is, that his pipe is somewhat bigger than theirs
and he can make a greater smoke. Like them, he has a watch, but he
carries his watch in his pocket. To say the truth, he has something of
more importance than a watch to attend to- and what that is, I shall
presently explain. He sits with his right leg upon his left knee,
wears a grave countenance, and always keeps one of his eyes, at least,
resolutely bent upon a certain remarkable object in the centre of
the plain.
  This object is situated in the steeple of the House of the Town
Council. The Town Council are all very little, round, oily,
intelligent men, with big saucer eyes and fat double chins, and have
their coats much longer and their shoe-buckles much bigger than the
ordinary inhabitants of Vondervotteimittiss. Since my sojourn in the
borough, they have had several special meetings, and have adopted
these three important resolutions:
  "That it is wrong to alter the good old course of things:"
  "That there is nothing tolerable out of Vondervotteimittiss:" and-
  "That we will stick by our clocks and our cabbages."
  Above the session-room of the Council is the steeple, and in the
steeple is the belfry, where exists, and has existed time out of mind,
the pride and wonder of the village- the great clock of the borough of
Vondervotteimittiss. And this is the object to which the eyes of the
old gentlemen are turned who sit in the leather-bottomed arm-chairs.
  The great clock has seven faces- one in each of the seven sides of
the steeple- so that it can be readily seen from all quarters. Its
faces are large and white, and its hands heavy and black. There is a
belfry-man whose sole duty is to attend to it; but this duty is the
most perfect of sinecures- for the clock of Vondervotteimittis was
never yet known to have anything the matter with it. Until lately, the
bare supposition of such a thing was considered heretical. From the
remotest period of antiquity to which the archives have reference, the
hours have been regularly struck by the big bell. And, indeed the case
was just the same with all the other clocks and watches in the
borough. Never was such a place for keeping the true time. When the
large clapper thought proper to say "Twelve o'clock!" all its obedient
followers opened their throats simultaneously, and responded like a
very echo. In short, the good burghers were fond of their sauer-kraut,
but then they were proud of their clocks.
  All people who hold sinecure offices are held in more or less
respect, and as the belfry- man of Vondervotteimittiss has the most
perfect of sinecures, he is the most perfectly respected of any man in
the world. He is the chief dignitary of the borough, and the very pigs
look up to him with a sentiment of reverence. His coat-tail is very
far longer- his pipe, his shoe- buckles, his eyes, and his stomach,
very far bigger- than those of any other old gentleman in the village;
and as to his chin, it is not only double, but triple.
  I have thus painted the happy estate of Vondervotteimittiss: alas,
that so fair a picture should ever experience a reverse!
  There has been long a saying among the wisest inhabitants, that
"no good can come from over the hills"; and it really seemed that
the words had in them something of the spirit of prophecy. It wanted
five minutes of noon, on the day before yesterday, when there appeared
a very odd-looking object on the summit of the ridge of the
eastward. Such an occurrence, of course, attracted universal
attention, and every little old gentleman who sat in a
leather-bottomed arm-chair turned one of his eyes with a stare of
dismay upon the phenomenon, still keeping the other upon the clock
in the steeple.
  By the time that it wanted only three minutes to noon, the droll
object in question was perceived to be a very diminutive
foreign-looking young man. He descended the hills at a great rate,
so that every body had soon a good look at him. He was really the most
finicky little personage that had ever been seen in
Vondervotteimittiss. His countenance was of a dark snuff-color, and he
had a long hooked nose, pea eyes, a wide mouth, and an excellent set
of teeth, which latter he seemed anxious of displaying, as he was
grinning from ear to ear. What with mustachios and whiskers, there was
none of the rest of his face to be seen. His head was uncovered, and
his hair neatly done up in papillotes. His dress was a tight-fitting
swallow-tailed black coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a vast
length of white handkerchief), black kerseymere knee-breeches, black
stockings, and stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black
satin ribbon for bows. Under one arm he carried a huge
chapeau-de-bras, and under the other a fiddle nearly five times as big
as himself. In his left hand was a gold snuff-box, from which, as he
capered down the hill, cutting all manner of fantastic steps, he
took snuff incessantly with an air of the greatest possible
self-satisfaction. God bless me!- here was a sight for the honest
burghers of Vondervotteimittiss!
  To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an
audacious and sinister kind of face; and as he curvetted right into
the village, the old stumpy appearance of his pumps excited no
little suspicion; and many a burgher who beheld him that day would
have given a trifle for a peep beneath the white cambric
handkerchief which hung so obtrusively from the pocket of his
swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occasioned a righteous
indignation was, that the scoundrelly popinjay, while he cut a
fandango here, and a whirligig there, did not seem to have the
remotest idea in the world of such a thing as keeping time in his
steps.
  The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, however, to
get their eyes thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a
minute of noon, the rascal bounced, as I say, right into the midst
of them; gave a chassez here, and a balancez there; and then, after
a pirouette and a pas-de-zephyr, pigeon-winged himself right up into
the belfry of the House of the Town Council, where the wonder-stricken
belfry-man sat smoking in a state of dignity and dismay. But the
little chap seized him at once by the nose; gave it a swing and a
pull; clapped the big chapeau de-bras upon his head; knocked it down
over his eyes and mouth; and then, lifting up the big fiddle, beat him
with it so long and so soundly, that what with the belfry-man being so
fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you would have sworn that there
was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the devil's
tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of Vondervotteimittiss.
  There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance this
unprincipled attack might have aroused the inhabitants, but for the
important fact that it now wanted only half a second of noon. The bell
was about to strike, and it was a matter of absolute and pre-eminent
necessity that every body should look well at his watch. It was
evident, however, that just at this moment the fellow in the steeple
was doing something that he had no business to do with the clock.
But as it now began to strike, nobody had any time to attend to his
manoeuvres, for they had all to count the strokes of the bell as it
sounded.
  "One!" said the clock.
  "Von!" echoed every little old gentleman in every leather-bottomed
arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. "Von!" said his watch also; "von!"
said the watch of his vrow; and "von!" said the watches of the boys,
and the little gilt repeaters on the tails of the cat and pig.
  "Two!" continued the big bell; and
  "Doo!" repeated all the repeaters.
  "Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!" said the bell.
  "Dree! Vour! Fibe! Sax! Seben! Aight! Noin! Den!" answered the
others.
  "Eleven!" said the big one.
  "Eleben!" assented the little ones.
  "Twelve!" said the bell.
  "Dvelf!" they replied perfectly satisfied, and dropping their
voices.
  "Und dvelf it is!" said all the little old gentlemen, putting up
their watches. But the big bell had not done with them yet.
  "Thirteen!" said he.
  "Der Teufel!" gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale,
dropping their pipes, and putting down all their right legs from
over their left knees.
  "Der Teufel!" groaned they, "Dirteen! Dirteen!!- Mein Gott, it is
Dirteen o'clock!!"
  Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All
Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar.
  "Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?" roared all the boys- "I've been
ongry for dis hour!"
  "Vot is com'd to mein kraut?" screamed all the vrows, "It has been
done to rags for this hour!"
  "Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?" swore all the little old gentlemen,
"Donder and Blitzen; it has been smoked out for dis hour!"- and they
filled them up again in a great rage, and sinking back in their
arm-chairs, puffed away so fast and so fiercely that the whole
valley was immediately filled with impenetrable smoke.
  Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed
as if old Nick himself had taken possession of every thing in the
shape of a timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture took to
dancing as if bewitched, while those upon the mantel-pieces could
scarcely contain themselves for fury, and kept such a continual
striking of thirteen, and such a frisking and wriggling of their
pendulums as was really horrible to see. But, worse than all,
neither the cats nor the pigs could put up any longer with the
behavior of the little repeaters tied to their tails, and resented
it by scampering all over the place, scratching and poking, and
squeaking and screeching, and caterwauling and squalling, and flying
into the faces, and running under the petticoats of the people, and
creating altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it
is possible for a reasonable person to conceive. And to make matters
still more distressing, the rascally little scape-grace in the steeple
was evidently exerting himself to the utmost. Every now and then one
might catch a glimpse of the scoundrel through the smoke. There he sat
in the belfry upon the belfry-man, who was lying flat upon his back.
In his teeth the villain held the bell-rope, which he kept jerking
about with his head, raising such a clatter that my ears ring again
even to think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle, at which he was
scraping, out of all time and tune, with both hands, making a great
show, the nincompoop! of playing "Judy O'Flannagan and Paddy
O'Rafferty."
  Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in
disgust, and now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and fine
kraut. Let us proceed in a body to the borough, and restore the
ancient order of things in Vondervotteimittiss by ejecting that little
fellow from the steeple.


                            THE END
.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM

                                      1841
                          A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM
                               by Edgar Allan Poe
           
The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as our ways;
nor are the models that we frame any way commensurate to the vastness,
profundity, and unsearchableness of His works, which have a depth in
them greater than the well of Democritus.
                                           Joseph Glanville.

  WE had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some minutes
the old man seemed too much exhausted to speak.
  "Not long ago," said he at length, "and I could have guided you on
this route as well as the youngest of my sons; but, about three
years past, there happened to me an event such as never happened
before to mortal man --or at least such as no man ever survived to
tell of --and the six hours of deadly terror which I then endured have
broken me up body and soul. You suppose me a very old man --but I am
not. It took less than a single day to change these hairs from a jetty
black to white, to weaken my limbs, and to unstring my nerves, so that
I tremble at the least exertion, and am frightened at a shadow. Do you
know I can scarcely look over this little cliff without getting
giddy?"
    The "little cliff," upon whose edge he had so carelessly thrown
himself down to rest that the weightier portion of his body hung
over it, while he was only kept from falling by the tenure of his
elbow on its extreme and slippery edge --this "little cliff" arose,
a sheer unobstructed precipice of black shining rock, some fifteen
or sixteen hundred feet from the world of crags beneath us. Nothing
would have tempted me to within half a dozen yards of its brink. In
truth so deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my
companion, that I fell at full length upon the ground, clung to the
shrubs around me, and dared not even glance upward at the sky
--while I struggled in vain to divest myself of the idea that the very
foundations of the mountain were in danger from the fury of the winds.
It was long before I could reason myself into sufficient courage to
sit up and look out into the distance.
    "You must get over these fancies," said the guide, "for I have
brought you here that you might have the best possible view of the
scene of that event I mentioned --and to tell you the whole story with
the spot just under your eye."
    "We are now," he continued, in that particularizing manner which
distinguished him --"we are now close upon the Norwegian coast --in
the sixty-eighth degree of latitude --in the great province of
Nordland --and in the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain upon
whose top we sit is Helseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise yourself up a
little higher --hold on to the grass if you feel giddy --so --and look
out beyond the belt of vapor beneath us, into the sea."
    I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose waters
wore so inky a hue as to bring at once to my mind the Nubian
geographer's account of the Mare Tenebrarum. A panorama more
deplorably desolate no human imagination can conceive. To the right
and left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched,
like ramparts of the world, lines of horridly black and beetling
cliff, whose character of gloom was but the more forcibly
illustrated by the surf which reared high up against it its white
and ghastly crest, howling and shrieking for ever. Just opposite the
promontory upon whose apex we were placed, and at a distance of some
five or six miles out at sea, there was visible a small, bleak-looking
island; or, more properly, its position was discernible through the
wilderness of surge in which it was enveloped. About two miles
nearer the land, arose another of smaller size, hideously craggy and
barren, and encompassed at various intervals by a cluster of dark
rocks.
    The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distant
island and the shore, had something very unusual about it. Although,
at the time, so strong a gale was blowing landward that a brig in
the remote offing lay to under a double-reefed trysail, and constantly
plunged her whole hull out of sight, still there was here nothing like
a regular swell, but only a short, quick, angry cross dashing of water
in every direction --as well in the teeth of the wind as otherwise. Of
foam there was little except in the immediate vicinity of the rocks.
    "The island in the distance," resumed the old man, "is called by
the Norwegians Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. That a mile to the
northward is Ambaaren. Yonder are Iflesen, Hoeyholm, Kieldholm,
Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off --between Moskoe and Vurrgh --are
Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Skarholm. These are the true
names of the places --but why it has been thought necessary to name
them at all, is more than either you or I can understand. Do you
hear any thing? Do you see any change in the water?"
    We had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, to
which we had ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we had
caught no glimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from the
summit. As the old man spoke, I became aware of a loud and gradually
increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buffaloes upon an
American prairie; and at the same moment I perceived that what
seamen term the chopping character of the ocean beneath us, was
rapidly changing into a current which set to the eastward. Even
while I gazed, this current acquired a monstrous velocity. Each moment
added to its speed --to its headlong impetuosity. In five minutes
the whole sea, as far as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury;
but it was between Moskoe and the coast that the main uproar held
its sway. Here the vast bed of the waters, seamed and scarred into a
thousand conflicting channels, burst suddenly into phrensied
convulsion --heaving, boiling, hissing --gyrating in gigantic and
innumerable vortices, and all whirling and plunging on to the eastward
with a rapidity which water never elsewhere assumes except in
precipitous descents.
    In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radical
alteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth, and the
whirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while prodigious streaks of
foam became apparent where none had been seen before. These streaks,
at length, spreading out to a great distance, and entering into
combination, took unto themselves the gyratory motion of the
subsided vortices, and seemed to form the germ of another more vast.
Suddenly --very suddenly --this assumed a distinct and definite
existence, in a circle of more than half a mile in diameter. The
edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray;
but no particle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel,
whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth,
shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an
angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round
with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds
an appalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as not even the
mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven.
    The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I
threw myself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess
of nervous agitation.
    "This," said I at length, to the old man --"this can be nothing
else than the great whirlpool of the Maelstrom."
    "So it is sometimes termed," said he. "We Norwegians call it the
Moskoe-strom, from the island of Moskoe in the midway."
    The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means prepared me
for what I saw. That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the most
circumstantial of any, cannot impart the faintest conception either of
the magnificence, or of the horror of the scene --or of the wild
bewildering sense of the novel which confounds the beholder. I am
not sure from what point of view the writer in question surveyed it,
nor at what time; but it could neither have been from the summit of
Helseggen, nor during a storm. There are some passages of his
description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their details,
although their effect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression
of the spectacle.
    "Between Lofoden and Moskoe," he says, "the depth of the water
is between thirty-six and forty fathoms; but on the other side, toward
Ver (Vurrgh) this depth decreases so as not to afford a convenient
passage for a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the rocks,
which happens even in the calmest weather. When it is flood, the
stream runs up the country between Lofoden and Moskoe with a
boisterous rapidity; but the roar of its impetuous ebb to the sea is
scarce equalled by the loudest and most dreadful cataracts; the
noise being heard several leagues off, and the vortices or pits are of
such an extent and depth, that if a ship comes within its
attraction, it is inevitably absorbed and carried down to the
bottom, and there beat to pieces against the rocks; and when the water
relaxes, the fragments thereof are thrown up again. But these
intervals of tranquillity are only at the turn of the ebb and flood,
and in calm weather, and last but a quarter of an hour, its violence
gradually returning. When the stream is most boisterous, and its
fury heightened by a storm, it is dangerous to come within a Norway
mile of it. Boats, yachts, and ships have been carried away by not
guarding against it before they were within its reach. It likewise
happens frequently, that whales come too near the stream, and are
overpowered by its violence; and then it is impossible to describe
their howlings and bellowings in their fruitless struggles to
disengage themselves. A bear once, attempting to swim from Lofoden
to Moskoe, was caught by the stream and borne down, while he roared
terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Large stocks of firs and pine
trees, after being absorbed by the current, rise again broken and torn
to such a degree as if bristles grew upon them. This plainly shows the
bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which they are whirled to and
fro. This stream is regulated by the flux and reflux of the sea --it
being constantly high and low water every six hours. In the year 1645,
early in the morning of Sexagesima Sunday, it raged with such noise
and impetuosity that the very stones of the houses on the coast fell
to the ground."
    In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this
could have been ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of the
vortex. The "forty fathoms" must have reference only to portions of
the channel close upon the shore either of Moskoe or Lofoden. The
depth in the centre of the Moskoe-strom must be immeasurably
greater; and no better proof of this fact is necessary than can be
obtained from even the sidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl
which may be had from the highest crag of Helseggen. Looking down from
this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I could not help
smiling at the simplicity with which the honest Jonas Ramus records,
as a matter difficult of belief, the anecdotes of the whales and the
bears; for it appeared to me, in fact, a self-evident thing, that
the largest ships of the line in existence, coming within the
influence of that deadly attraction, could resist it as little as a
feather the hurricane, and must disappear bodily and at once.
    The attempts to account for the phenomenon --some of which, I
remember, seemed to me sufficiently plausible in perusal --now wore
a very different and unsatisfactory aspect. The idea generally
received is that this, as well as three smaller vortices among the
Feroe islands, "have no other cause than the collision of waves rising
and falling, at flux and reflux, against a ridge of rocks and shelves,
which confines the water so that it precipitates itself like a
cataract; and thus the higher the flood rises, the deeper must the
fall be, and the natural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex, the
prodigious suction of which is sufficiently known by lesser
experiments." --These are the words of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Kircher and others imagine that in the centre of the channel of the
Maelstrom is an abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in some
very remote part --the Gulf of Bothnia being somewhat decidedly
named in one instance. This opinion, idle in itself, was the one to
which, as I gazed, my imagination most readily assented; and,
mentioning it to the guide, I was rather surprised to hear him say
that, although it was the view almost universally entertained of the
subject by the Norwegians, it nevertheless was not his own. As to
the former notion he confessed his inability to comprehend it; and
here I agreed with him --for, however conclusive on paper, it
becomes altogether unintelligible, and even absurd, amid the thunder
of the abyss.
    "You have had a good look at the whirl now," said the old man,
"and if you will creep round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and
deaden the roar of the water, I will tell you a story that will
convince you I ought to know something of the Moskoe-strom."
    I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded.
    "Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged smack
of about seventy tons burthen, with which we were in the habit of
fishing among the islands beyond Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all
violent eddies at sea there is good fishing, at proper
opportunities, if one has only the courage to attempt it; but among
the whole of the Lofoden coastmen, we three were the only ones who
made a regular business of going out to the islands, as I tell you.
The usual grounds are a great way lower down to the southward. There
fish can be got at all hours, without much risk, and therefore these
places are preferred. The choice spots over here among the rocks,
however, not only yield the finest variety, but in far greater
abundance; so that we often got in a single day, what the more timid
of the craft could not scrape together in a week. In fact, we made
it a matter of desperate speculation --the risk of life standing
instead of labor, and courage answering for capital.
    "We kept the smack in a cove about five miles higher up the
coast than this; and it was our practice, in fine weather, to take
advantage of the fifteen minutes' slack to push across the main
channel of the Moskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop down
upon anchorage somewhere near Otterholm, or Sandflesen, where the
eddies are not so violent as elsewhere. Here we used to remain until
nearly time for slackwater again, when we weighed and made for home.
We never set out upon this expedition without a steady side wind for
going and coming --one that we felt sure would not fall us before
our return --and we seldom made a mis-calculation upon this point.
Twice, during six years, we were forced to stay all night at anchor on
account of a dead calm, which is a rare thing indeed just about
here; and once we had to remain on the grounds nearly a week, starving
to death, owing to a gale which blew up shortly after our arrival, and
made the channel too boisterous to be thought of. Upon this occasion
we should have been driven out to sea in spite of everything, (for the
whirlpools threw us round and round so violently that, at length, we
fouled our anchor and dragged it) if it had not been that we drifted
into one of the innumerable cross currents-here to-day and gone
to-morrow --which drove us under the lee of Flimen, where, by good
luck, we brought up.
    "I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties we
encountered 'on the ground' --it is a bad spot to be in, even in
good weather --but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of the
Moskoe-strom itself without accident; although at times my heart has
been in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so behind or
before the slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong as we thought
it at starting, and then we made rather less way than we could wish,
while the current rendered the smack unmanageable. My eldest brother
had a son eighteen years old, and I had two stout boys of my own.
These would have been of great assistance at such times, in using
the sweeps, as well as afterward in fishing --but, somehow, although
we ran the risk ourselves, we had not the heart to let the young
ones get into the danger --for, after all said and done, it was a
horrible danger, and that is the truth.
    "It is now within a few days of three years since what I am
going to tell you occurred. It was on the tenth of July, 18--, a day
which the people of this part of the world will never forget --for
it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came
out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed until late
in the afternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze from the
south-west, while the sun shone brightly, so that the oldest seaman
among us could not have foreseen what was to follow.
    "The three of us --my two brothers and myself --had crossed over
to the islands about two o'clock P. M., and soon nearly loaded the
smack with fine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plenty that
day than we had ever known them. It was just seven, by my watch,
when we weighed and started for home, so as to make the worst of the
Strom at slack water, which we knew would be at eight.
    "We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for
some time spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of danger, for
indeed we saw not the slightest reason to apprehend it. All at once we
were taken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. This was most
unusual --something that had never happened to us before --and I began
to feel a little uneasy, without exactly knowing why. We put the
boat on the wind, but could make no headway at all for the eddies, and
I was upon the point of proposing to return to the anchorage, when,
looking astern, we saw the whole horizon covered with a singular
copper-colored cloud that rose with the most amazing velocity.
    "In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away,
and we were dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This
state of things, however, did not last long enough to give us time
to think about it. In less than a minute the storm was upon us --in
less than two the sky was entirely overcast --and what with this and
the driving spray, it became suddenly so dark that we could not see
each other in the smack.
    "Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt
describing. The oldest seaman in Norway never experienced any thing
like it. We had let our sails go by the run before it cleverly took
us; but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board if they
had been sawed off --the mainmast taking with it my as I youngest
brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety.
    "Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon
water. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near
the bow, and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten down
when about to cross the Strom, by way of precaution against the
chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should have foundered at
once --for we lay entirely buried for some moments. How my elder
brother escaped destruction I cannot say, for I never had an
opportunity of ascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had let the
foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet against the
narrow gunwale of the bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near
the foot of the foremast. It was mere instinct that prompted me to
do this --which was undoubtedly the very best thing I could have
done --for I was too much flurried to think.
    "For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all
this time I held my breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could
stand it no longer I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold
with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little boat
gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water,
and thus rid herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was now trying
to get the better of the stupor that had come over me, and to
collect my senses so as to see what was to be done, when I felt
somebody grasp my arm. It was my elder brother, and my heart leaped
for joy, for I had made sure that he was overboard --but the next
moment all this joy was turned into horror --for he put his mouth
close to my ear, and screamed out the word 'Moskoe-strom!'
    "No one ever will know what my feelings were at that moment. I
shook from head to foot as if I had had the most violent fit of the
ague. I knew what he meant by that one word well enough --I knew
what he wished to make me understand. With the wind that now drove
us on, we were bound for the whirl of the Strom, and nothing could
save us!
    "You perceive that in crossing the Strom channel, we always went a
long way up above the whirl, even in the calmest weather, and then had
to wait and watch carefully for the slack --but now we were driving
right upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane as this! 'To be
sure,' I thought, 'we shall get there just about the slack --there
is some little hope in that' --but in the next moment I cursed myself
for being so great a fool as to dream of hope at all. I knew very well
that we were doomed, had we been ten times a ninety-gun ship.
    "By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent itself, or
perhaps we did not feel it so much, as we scudded before it, but at
all events the seas, which at first had been kept down by the wind,
and lay flat and frothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A
singular change, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every
direction it was still as black as pitch, but nearly overhead there
burst out, all at once, a circular rift of clear sky --as clear as I
ever saw --and of a deep bright blue --and through it there blazed
forth the full moon with a lustre that I never before knew her to
wear. She lit up every thing about us with the greatest distinctness
--but, oh God, what a scene it was to light up!
    "I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother --but in
some manner which I could not understand, the din had so increased
that I could not make him hear a single word, although I screamed at
the top of my voice in his ear. Presently he shook his head, looking
as pale as death, and held up one of his fingers, as to say 'listen!'
    "At first I could not make out what he meant --but soon a
hideous thought flashed upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. It
was not going. I glanced as its face by the moonlight, and then
burst into tears as I flung it far away into the ocean. It had run
down at seven o'clock! We were behind the time of the slack, and the
whirl of the Strom was in full fury!
    "When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and not deep
laden, the waves in a strong gale, when she is going large, seem
always to slip from beneath her --which appears very strange to a
landsman --and this is what is called riding, in sea phrase.
    "Well, so far we had ridden the swells very cleverly; but
presently a gigantic sea happened to take us right under the
counter, and bore us with it as it rose --up --up --as if into the
sky. I would not have believed that any wave could rise so high. And
then down we came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me
feel sick and dizzy, as if I was falling from some lofty
mountain-top in a dream. But while we were up I had thrown a quick
glance around --and that one glance was all sufficient. I saw our
exact position in an instant. The Moskoe-strom whirlpool was about a
quarter of a mile dead ahead --but no more like the every-day
Moskoe-strom, than the whirl as you now see it, is like a mill-race.
If I had not known where we were, and what we had to expect, I
should not have recognised the place at all. As it was, I
involuntarily closed my eyes in horror. The lids clenched themselves
together as if in a spasm.
    "It could not have been more than two minutes afterwards until
we suddenly felt the waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. The
boat made a sharp half turn to larboard, and then shot off in its
new direction like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roaring noise
of the water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek
--such a sound as you might imagine given out by the water-pipes of
many thousand steam-vessels, letting off their steam all together.
We were now in the belt of surf that always surrounds the whirl; and I
thought, of course, that another moment would plunge us into the abyss
--down which we could only see indistinctly on account of the
amazing velocity with which we were borne along. The boat did not seem
to sink into the water at all, but to skim like an air-bubble upon the
surface of the surge. Her starboard side was next the whirl, and on
the larboard arose the world of ocean we had left. It stood like a
huge writhing wall between us and the horizon.
    "It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the very jaws
of the gulf, I felt more composed than when we were only approaching
it. Having made up my mind to hope no more, I got rid of a great
deal of that terror which unmanned me at first. I suppose it was
despair that strung my nerves.
    "It may look like boasting --but what I tell you is truth --I
began to reflect how magnificent a thing it was to die in such a
manner, and how foolish it was in me to think of so paltry a
consideration as my own individual life, in view of so wonderful a
manifestation of God's power. I do believe that I blushed with
shame when this idea crossed my mind. After a little while I became
possessed with the keenest curiosity about the whirl itself. I
positively felt a wish to explore its depths, even at the sacrifice
I was going to make; and my principal grief was that I should never be
able to tell my old companions on shore about the mysteries I should
see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to occupy a man's mind
in such extremity --and I have often thought since, that the
revolutions of the boat around the pool might have rendered me a
little light-headed.
    "There was another circumstance which tended to restore my
self-possession; and this was the cessation of the wind, which could
not reach us in our present situation --for, as you saw yourself,
the belt of surf is considerably lower than the general bed of the
ocean, and this latter now towered above us, a high, black,
mountainous ridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale,
you can form no idea of the confusion of mind occasioned by the wind
and the spray together. They blind, deafen and strangle you, and
take away all power of action or reflection. But we were now, in a
great measure, rid of these annoyances --just as death-condemned
felons in prison are allowed petty indulgences, forbidden them while
their doom is yet uncertain.
    "How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to
say. We careered round and round for perhaps an hour, flying rather
than floating, getting gradually more and more into the middle of
the surge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge.
All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at
the stern, holding on to a large empty water-cask which had been
securely lashed under the coop of the counter, and was the only
thing on deck that had not been swept overboard when the gale first
took us. As we approached the brink of the pit he let go his hold upon
this, and made for the ring, from which, in the agony of his terror,
he endeavored to force my hands, as it was not large enough to
afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief than when I
saw him attempt this act --although I knew he was a madman when he did
it --a raving maniac through sheer fright. I did not care, however, to
contest the point with him. I thought it could make no difference
whether either of us held on at all; so I let him have the bolt, and
went astern to the cask. This there was no great difficulty in
doing; for the smack flew round steadily enough, and upon an even keel
--only swaying to and fro, with the immense sweeps and swelters of the
whirl. Scarcely had I secured myself in my new position, when we
gave a wild lurch to starboard, and rushed headlong into the abyss.
I muttered a hurried prayer to God, and thought all was over.
    "As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I had instinctively
tightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some
seconds I dared not open them --while I expected instant
destruction, and wondered that I was not already in my death-struggles
with the water. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. The
sense of falling had ceased; and the motion of the vessel seemed
much as it had been before while in the belt of foam, with the
exception that she now lay more along. I took courage and looked
once again upon the scene.
    "Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and
admiration with which I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be
hanging, as if by magic, midway down, upon the interior surface of a
funnel vast in circumference, prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly
smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony, but for the
bewildering rapidity with which they spun around, and for the gleaming
and ghastly radiance they shot forth, as the rays of the full moon,
from that circular rift amid the clouds which I have already
described, streamed in a flood of golden glory along the black
walls, and far away down into the inmost recesses of the abyss.
    "At first I was too much confused to observe anything
accurately. The general burst of terrific grandeur was all that I
beheld. When I recovered myself a little, however, my gaze fell
instinctively downward. In this direction I was able to obtain an
unobstructed view, from the manner in which the smack hung on the
inclined surface of the pool. She was quite upon an even keel --that
is to say, her deck lay in a plane parallel with that of the water
--but this latter sloped at an angle of more than forty-five
degrees, so that we seemed to be lying upon our beam-ends. I could not
help observing, nevertheless, that I had scarcely more difficulty in
maintaining my hold and footing in this situation, than if we had been
upon a dead level; and this, I suppose, was owing to the speed at
which we revolved.
    "The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the
profound gulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on
account of a thick mist in which everything there was enveloped, and
over which there hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and
tottering bridge which Mussulmen say is the only pathway between
Time and Eternity. This mist, or spray, was no doubt occasioned by the
clashing of the great walls of the funnel, as they all met together at
the bottom --but the yell that went up to the Heavens from out of that
mist, I dare not attempt to describe.
    "Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam
above, had carried us to a great distance down the slope; but our
farther descent was by no means proportionate. Round and round we
swept --not with any uniform movement --but in dizzying swings and
jerks, that sent us sometimes only a few hundred feet --sometimes
nearly the complete circuit of the whirl. Our progress downward, at
each revolution, was slow, but very perceptible.
    "Looking about me upon the wide waste of liquid ebony on which
we were thus borne, I perceived that our boat was not the only
object in the embrace of the whirl. Both above and below us were
visible fragments of vessels, large masses of building timber and
trunks of trees, with many smaller articles, such as pieces of house
furniture, broken boxes, barrels and staves. I have already
described the unnatural curiosity which had taken the place of my
original terrors. It appeared to grow upon me as I drew nearer and
nearer to my dreadful doom. I now began to watch, with a strange
interest, the numerous things that floated in our company. I must have
been delirious --for I even sought amusement in speculating upon the
relative velocities of their several descents toward the foam below.
'This fir tree,' I found myself at one time saying, 'will certainly
be the next thing that takes the awful plunge and disappears,' --and
then I was disappointed to find that the wreck of a Dutch merchant
ship overtook it and went down before. At length, after making several
guesses of this nature, and being deceived in all --this fact --the
fact of my invariable miscalculation, set me upon a train of
reflection that made my limbs again tremble, and my heart beat heavily
once more.
    "It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but the dawn of
a more exciting hope. This hope arose partly from memory, and partly
from present observation. I called to mind the great variety of
buoyant matter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been absorbed
and then thrown forth by the Moskoe-strom. By far the greater number
of the articles were shattered in the most extraordinary way --so
chafed and roughened as to have the appearance of being stuck full
of splinters --but then I distinctly recollected that there were
some of them which were not disfigured at all. Now I could not account
for this difference except by supposing that the roughened fragments
were the only ones which had been completely absorbed --that the
others had entered the whirl at so late a period of the tide, or, from
some reason, had descended so slowly after entering, that they did not
reach the bottom before the turn of the flood came, or of the ebb,
as the case might be. I conceived it possible, in either instance,
that they might thus be whirled up again to the level of the ocean,
without undergoing the fate of those which had been drawn in more
early or absorbed more rapidly. I made, also, three important
observations. The first was, that as a general rule, the larger the
bodies were, the more rapid their descent; --the second, that, between
two masses of equal extent, the one spherical, and the other of any
other shape, the superiority in speed of descent was with the
sphere; --the third, that, between two masses of equal size, the one
cylindrical, and the other of any other shape, the cylinder was
absorbed the more slowly.
    Since my escape, I have had several conversations on this
subject with an old school-master of the district; and it was from him
that I learned the use of the words 'cylinder' and 'sphere.' He
explained to me --although I have forgotten the explanation --how what
I observed was, in fact, the natural consequence of the forms of the
floating fragments --and showed me how it happened that a cylinder,
swimming in a vortex, offered more resistance to its suction, and
was drawn in with greater difficulty than an equally bulky body, of
any form whatever.*

  *See Archimedes, "De Incidentibus in Fluido." --lib.2.

   "There was one startling circumstance which went a great way in
enforcing these observations, and rendering me anxious to turn them to
account, and this was that, at every revolution, we passed something
like a barrel, or else the broken yard or the mast of a vessel,
while many of these things, which had been on our level when I first
opened my eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool, were now high up
above us, and seemed to have moved but little from their original
station.
    "I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself
securely to the water cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose from
the counter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I attracted
my brother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels
that came near us, and did everything in my power to make him
understand what I was about to do. I thought at length that he
comprehended my design --but, whether this was the case or not, he
shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station by
the ring-bolt. It was impossible to force him; the emergency
admitted no delay; and so, with a bitter struggle, I resigned him to
his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of the lashings which
secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself with it into the
sea, without another moment's hesitation.
    "The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it is
myself who now tell you this tale --as you see that I did escape --and
as you are already in possession of the mode in which this escape
was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have farther to
say --I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It might have
been an hour, or thereabout, after my quitting the smack, when, having
descended to a vast distance beneath me, it made three or four wild
gyrations in rapid succession, and, bearing my loved brother with
it, plunged headlong, at once and forever, into the chaos of foam
below. The barrel to which I was attached sunk very little farther
than half the distance between the bottom of the gulf and the spot
at which I leaped overboard, before a great change took place in the
character of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast
funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyrations of the whirl
grew, gradually, less and less violent. By degrees, the froth and
the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly to
uprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and the full
moon was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on the
surface of the ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and above
the spot where the pool of the Moskoe-strom had been. It was the
hour of the slack --but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from
the effects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel
of the Strom and in a few minutes, was hurried down the coast into the
'grounds' of the fishermen. A boat picked me up --exhausted from
fatigue --and (now that the danger was removed) speechless from the
memory of its horror. Those who drew me on board were my old mates and
dally companions --but they knew me no more than they would have known
a traveller from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been
raven-black the day before, was as white as you see it now. They say
too that the whole expression of my countenance had changed. I told
them my story --they did not believe it. I now tell it to you --and
I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry
fishermen of Lofoden.

                                   -THE END-
.

THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION

                                      1850
                     THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION
                               by Edgar Allan Poe

                 I will bring fire to thee.
                                            EURIPIDES Andiom.

  EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros?
  CHARMION. So henceforth will you always be called. You must
forget, too, my earthly name, and speak to me as Charmion.
  EIROS. This is indeed no dream!
  CHARMION. Dreams are with us no more; but of these mysteries anon. I
rejoice to see you looking like-life and rational. The film of the
shadow has already passed from off your eyes. Be of heart and fear
nothing. Your allotted days of stupor have expired; and, to-morrow,
I will myself induct you into the full joys and wonders of your
novel existence.
  EIROS. True, I feel no stupor, none at all. The wild sickness and
the terrible darkness have left me, and I hear no longer that mad,
rushing, horrible sound, like the "voice of many waters." Yet my
senses are bewildered, Charmion, with the keenness of their perception
of the new.
  CHARMION. A few days will remove all this;- but I fully understand
you, and feel for you. It is now ten earthly years since I underwent
what you undergo, yet the remembrance of it hangs by me still. You
have now suffered all of pain, however, which you will suffer in
Aidenn.
  EIROS. In Aidenn?
  CHARMION. In Aidenn.
  EIROS. Oh, God!- pity me, Charmion!- I am overburthened with the
majesty of all things- of the unknown now known- of the speculative
Future merged in the august and certain Present.
  CHARMION. Grapple not now with such thoughts. Tomorrow we will speak
of this. Your mind wavers, and its agitation will find relief in the
exercise of simple memories. Look not around, nor forward- but back. I
am burning with anxiety to hear the details of that stupendous event
which threw you among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar
things, in the old familiar language of the world which has so
fearfully perished.
  EIROS. Most fearfully, fearfully!- this is indeed no dream.
  CHARMION. Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my Eiros?
  EIROS. Mourned, Charmion?- oh deeply. To that last hour of all,
there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout sorrow over your
household.
  CHARMION. And that last hour- speak of it. Remember that, beyond the
naked fact of the catastrophe itself, I know nothing. When, coming out
from among mankind, I passed into Night through the Grave- at that
period, if I remember aright, the calamity which overwhelmed you was
utterly unanticipated. But, indeed, I knew little of the speculative
philosophy of the day.
  EIROS. The individual calamity was, as you say, entirely
unanticipated; but analogous misfortunes had been long a subject of
discussion with astronomers. I need scarce tell you, my friend,
that, even when you left us, men had agreed to understand those
passages in the most holy writings which speak of the final
destruction of all things by fire, as having reference to the orb of
the earth alone. But in regard to the immediate agency of the ruin,
speculation had been at fault from that epoch in astronomical
knowledge in which the comets were divested of the terrors of flame.
The very moderate density of these bodies had been well established.
They had been observed to pass among the satellites of Jupiter,
without bringing about any sensible alteration either in the masses or
in the orbits of these secondary planets. We had long regarded the
wanderers as vapory creations of inconceivable tenuity, and as
altogether incapable of doing injury to our substantial globe, even in
the event of contact. But contact was not in any degree dreaded; for
the elements of all the comets were accurately known. That among
them we should look for the agency of the threatened fiery destruction
had been for many years considered an inadmissible idea. But wonders
and wild fancies had been, of late days, strangely rife among mankind;
and although it was only with a few of the ignorant that actual
apprehension prevailed, upon the announcement by astronomers of a
new comet, yet this announcement was generally received with I know
not what of agitation and mistrust.
  The elements of the strange orb were immediately calculated, and
it was at once conceded by all observers, that its path, at
perihelion, would bring it into very close proximity with the earth.
There were two or three astronomers, of secondary note, who resolutely
maintained that a contact was inevitable. I cannot very well express
to you the effect of this intelligence upon the people. For a few
short days they would not believe an assertion which their
intellect, so long employed among worldly considerations, could not in
any manner grasp. But the truth of a vitally important fact soon makes
its way into the understanding of even the most stolid. Finally, all
men saw that astronomical knowledge lied not, and they awaited the
comet. Its approach was not, at first, seemingly rapid; nor was its
appearance of very unusual character. It was of a dull red, and had
little perceptible train. For seven or eight days we saw no material
increase in its apparent diameter, and but a partial alteration in its
color. Meantime the ordinary affairs of men were discarded, and all
interests absorbed in a growing discussion, instituted by the
philosophic, in respect to the cometary nature. Even the grossly
ignorant aroused their sluggish capacities to such considerations. The
learned now gave their intellect- their soul- to no such points as the
allaying of fear, or to the sustenance of loved theory. They sought-
they panted for right views. They groaned for perfected knowledge.
Truth arose in the purity of her strength and exceeding majesty, and
the wise bowed down and adored.
  That material injury to our globe or to its inhabitants would result
from the apprehended contact, was an opinion which hourly lost
ground among the wise; and the wise were now freely permitted to
rule the reason and the fancy of the crowd. It was demonstrated,
that the density of the comet's nucleus was far less than that of
our rarest gas; and the harmless passage of a similar visitor among
the satellites of Jupiter was a point strongly insisted upon, and
which served greatly to allay terror. Theologists, with an earnestness
fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the biblical prophecies, and expounded them
to the people with a directness and simplicity of which no previous
instance had been known. That the final destruction of the earth
must be brought about by the agency of fire, was urged with a spirit
that enforced everywhere conviction; and that the comets were of no
fiery nature (as all men now knew) was a truth which relieved all,
in a great measure, from the apprehension of the great calamity
foretold. It is noticeable that the popular prejudices and vulgar
errors in regard to pestilences and wars- errors which were wont to
prevail upon every appearance of a comet- were now altogether unknown.
As if by some sudden convulsive exertion, reason had at once hurled
superstition from her throne. The feeblest intellect had derived vigor
from excessive interest.
  What minor evils might arise from the contact were points of
elaborate question. The learned spoke of slight geological
disturbances, of probable alterations in climate, and consequently
in vegetation; of possible magnetic and electric influences. Many held
that no visible or perceptible effect would in any manner be produced.
While such discussions were going on, their subject gradually
approached, growing larger in apparent diameter, and of a more
brilliant lustre. Mankind grew paler as it came. All human
operations were suspended. There was an epoch in the course of the
general sentiment when the comet had attained, at length, a size
surpassing that of any previously recorded visitation. The people now,
dismissing any lingering hope that the astronomers were wrong,
experienced all the certainty of evil. The chimerical aspect of
their terror was gone. The hearts of the stoutest of our race beat
violently within their bosoms. A very few days sufficed, however, to
merge even such feelings in sentiments more unendurable. We could no
longer apply to the strange orb any accustomed thoughts. Its
historical attributes had disappeared. It oppressed us with a
hideous novelty of emotion. We saw it not as an astronomical
phenomenon in the heavens, but as an incubus upon our hearts, and a
shadow upon our brains. It had taken, with inconceivable rapidity, the
character of a gigantic mantle of rare flame, extending from horizon
to horizon.
  Yet a day, and men breathed with greater freedom. It was clear
that we were already within the influence of the comet; yet we
lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of frame and vivacity of
mind. The exceeding tenuity of the object of our dread was apparent;
for all heavenly objects were plainly visible through it. Meantime,
our vegetation had perceptibly altered; and we gained faith, from this
predicted circumstance, in the foresight of the wise. A wild
luxuriance of foliage, utterly unknown before, burst out upon every
vegetable thing.
  Yet another day- and the evil was not altogether upon us. It was now
evident that its nucleus would first reach us. A wild change had
come over all men; and the first sense of pain was the wild signal for
general lamentation and horror. This first sense of pain lay in a
rigorous constriction of the breast and lungs, and an insufferable
dryness of the skin. It could not be denied that our atmosphere was
radically affected; the conformation of this atmosphere and the
possible modifications to which it might be subjected, were now the
topics of discussion. The result of investigation sent an electric
thrill of the intensest terror through the universal heart of man.
  It had been long known that the air which encircled us was a
compound of oxygen and nitrogen gases, in the proportion of twenty-one
measures of oxygen, and seventy-nine of nitrogen, in every one hundred
of the atmosphere. Oxygen, which was the principle of combustion,
and the vehicle of heat, was absolutely necessary to the support of
animal life, and was the most powerful and energetic agent in
nature. Nitrogen, on the contrary, was incapable of supporting
either animal life or flame. An unnatural excess of oxygen would
result, it had been ascertained, in just such an elevation of the
animal spirits as we had latterly experienced. It was the pursuit, the
extension of the idea, which had engendered awe. What would be the
result of a total extraction of the nitrogen? A combustion
irresistible, all-devouring, omni-prevalent, immediate; the entire
fulfillment, in all their minute and terrible details, of the fiery
and horror-inspiring denunciations of the prophecies of the Holy Book.
  Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained frenzy of
mankind? That tenuity in the comet which had previously inspired us
with hope, was now the source of the bitterness of despair. In its
impalpable gaseous character we clearly perceived the consummation
of Fate. Meantime a day again passed, bearing away with it the last
shadow of Hope. We gasped in the rapid modification of the air. The
red blood bounded tumultuously through its strict channels. A
furious delirium possessed all men; and, with arms rigidly
outstretched toward the threatening heavens, they trembled and
shrieked aloud. But the nucleus of the destroyer was now upon us; even
here in Aidenn, I shudder while I speak. Let me be brief- brief as the
ruin that overwhelmed. For a moment there was a wild lurid light
alone, visiting and penetrating all things. Then- let us bow down,
Charmion, before the excessive majesty of the great God!- then,
there came a shouting and pervading sound, as if from the mouth itself
of HIM; while the whole incumbent mass of ether in which we existed,
burst at once into a species of intense flame, for whose surpassing
brilliancy and all-fervid heat even the angels in the high Heaven of
pure knowledge have no name. Thus ended all.


                             THE END
.

THE COLLOQUY OF MONOS AND UNA

                                      1850
                         THE COLLOQUY OF MONOS AND UNA
                               by Edgar Allan Poe

                These things are in the future.
                                                  SOPHOCLES- Antig.

  UNA. "Born again?"
  MONOS. Yes, fairest and best beloved Una, "born again." These were
the words upon whose mystical meaning I had so long pondered,
rejecting the explanations of the priesthood, until Death itself
resolved for me the secret.
  UNA. Death!
  MONOS. How strangely, sweet Una, you echo my words! I observe,
too, a vacillation in your step, a joyous inquietude in your eyes. You
are confused and oppressed by the majestic novelty of the Life
Eternal. Yes, it was of Death I spoke. And here how singularly
sounds that word which of old was wont to bring terror to all
hearts, throwing a mildew upon all pleasures!
  UNA. Ah, Death, the spectre which sate at all feasts! How often,
Monos, did we lose ourselves in speculations upon its nature! How
mysteriously did it act as a check to human bliss, saying unto it
"thus far and no further!" That earnest mutual love, my own Monos,
which burned within our bosoms- how vainly did we flatter ourselves,
feeling happy in its first upspringing, that our happiness would
strengthen with its strength! Alas! as it grew, so grew in our
hearts the dread of that evil hour which was hurrying to separate us
forever! Thus, in time, it became painful to love. Hate would have
been mercy then.
  MONOS. Speak not here of these griefs, dear Una- mine, mine, forever
now!
  UNA. But the memory of past sorrow- is it not present joy? I have
much to say yet of the things which have been. Above all, I burn to
know the incidents of your own passage through the dark Valley and
Shadow.
  MONOS. And when did the radiant Una ask any thing of her Monos in
vain? I will be minute in relating all- but at what point shall the
weird narrative begin?
  UNA. At what point?
  MONOS. You have said.
  UNA. Monos, I comprehend you. In Death we have both learned the
propensity of man to define the indefinable. I will not say, then,
commence with the moment of life's cessation- but commence with that
sad, sad instant when, the fever having abandoned you, you sank into a
breathless and motionless torpor, and I pressed down your pallid
eyelids with the passionate fingers of love.
  MONOS. One word first, my Una, in regard to man's general
condition at this epoch. You will remember that one or two of the wise
among our forefathers- wise in fact, although not in the world's
esteem- had ventured to doubt the propriety of the term "improvement,"
as applied to the progress of our civilization. There were periods
in each of the five or six centuries immediately preceding our
dissolution, when arose some vigorous intellect, boldly contending for
those principles whose truth appears now, to our disenfranchised
reason, so utterly obvious- principles which should have taught our
race to submit to the guidance of the natural laws, rather than
attempt their control. At long intervals some master-minds appeared,
looking upon each advance in practical science as a retro-gradation in
the true utility. Occasionally the poetic intellect- that intellect
which we now feel to have been the most exalted of all- since those
truths which to us were of the most enduring importance could only
be reached by that analogy which speaks in proof-tones to the
imagination alone, and to the unaided reason bears no weight-
occasionally did this poetic intellect proceed a step farther in the
evolving of the vague idea of the philosophic, and find in the
mystic parable that tells of the tree of knowledge, and of its
forbidden fruit, death-producing, a distinct intimation that knowledge
was not meet for man in the infant condition of his soul. And these
men, the poets, living and perishing amid the scorn of the
"utilitarians"- or rough pedants, who arrogated to themselves a
title which could have been properly applied only to the scorned-
these men, the poets, ponder piningly, yet not unwisely, upon the
ancient days when our wants were not more simple than our enjoyments
were keen- days when mirth was a word unknown, so solemnly
deep-toned was happiness- holy, august and blissful days, when blue
rivers ran undammed, between hills unhewn, into far forest
solitudes, primeval, odorous, and unexplored.
  Yet these noble exceptions from the general misrule served but to
strengthen it by opposition. Alas! we had fallen upon the most evil of
all our evil days. The great "movement"- that was the cant term-
went on: a diseased commotion, moral and physical. Art- the Arts-
arose supreme, and, once enthroned, cast chains upon the intellect
which had elevated them to power. Man, because he could not but
acknowledge the majesty of Nature, fell into childish exultation at
his acquired and still increasing dominion over her elements. Even
while he stalked a God in his own fancy, an infantine imbecility
came over him. As might be supposed from the origin of his disorder,
he grew infected with system, and with abstraction. He enwrapped
himself in generalities. Among other odd ideas, that of universal
equality gained ground; and in the face of analogy and of God- in
despite of the loud warning voice of the laws of gradation so
visibly pervading all things in Earth and Heaven- wild attempts at
an omni-prevalent Democracy were made. Yet this evil sprang
necessarily from the leading evil- Knowledge. Man could not both
know and succumb. Meantime huge smoking cities arose, innumerable.
Green leaves shrank before the hot breath of furnaces. The fair face
of Nature was deformed as with the ravages of some loathsome
disease. And methinks, sweet Una, even our slumbering sense of the
forced and of the farfetched might have arrested us here. But now it
appears that we had worked out our own destruction in the perversion
of our taste, or rather in the blind neglect of its culture in the
schools. For, in truth, it was at this crisis that taste alone- that
faculty which, holding a middle position between the pure intellect
and the moral sense, could never safely have been disregarded- it
was now that taste alone could have led us gently back to Beauty, to
Nature, and to Life. But alas for the pure contemplative spirit and
majestic intuition of Plato! Alas for the mousika which he justly
regarded as an all sufficient education for the soul! Alas for him and
for it!- since both were most desperately needed when both were most
entirely forgotten or despised.*

  * It will be hard to discover a better [method of education] than
that which the experience of so many ages has already discovered; and
this may be summed up as consisting in gymnastics for the body and
music for the soul."- Repub. lib. 2. "For this reason is a musical
education most essential; since it causes Rhythm and Harmony to
penetrate most intimately into the soul, taking the strangest hold
upon it, filling it with beauty and making the man beautiful-minded...
He will praise and admire the beautiful; will receive it with joy into
his soul, will feed upon it, and assimilate his own condition with
it." Ibid. lib. 3. Music mousika had, among the Athenians, a far
more comprehensive signification than with us. It included not only
the harmonies of time and of tune, but the poetic diction, sentiment
and creation each in its widest sense. The study of music was with
them in fact, the general cultivation of the taste- of that which
recognizes the beautiful- in contra-distinction from reason, which
deals only with the true.

  Pascal, a philosopher whom we both love, has said, how truly!-
"que tout notre raisonnement se reduit a ceder au sentiment," and it
is not impossible that the sentiment of the natural, had time
permitted it, would have regained its old ascendancy over the harsh
mathematical reason of the schools. But this thing was not to be.
Prematurely induced by intemperance of knowledge, the old age of the
world drew on. This the mass of mankind saw not, or, living lustily
although unhappily, affected not to see. But, for myself, the
Earth's records had taught me to look for widest ruin as the price
of highest civilization. I had imbibed a prescience of our Fate from
comparison of China the simple and enduring, with Assyria the
architect, with Egypt the astrologer, with Nubia, more crafty than
either, the turbulent mother of all Arts. In history* of these regions
I met with a ray from the Future. The individual artificialities of
the three latter were local diseases of the Earth, and in their
individual overthrows we had seen local remedies applied; but for
the infected world at large I could anticipate no regeneration save in
death. That man, as a race, should not become extinct, I saw that he
must be "born again."

  * "History," from istorein, to contemplate.

  And now it was, fairest and dearest, that we wrapped our spirits,
daily, in dreams, Now it was that, in twilight, we discoursed of the
days to come, when the Art-scarred surface of the Earth, having
undergone that purification* which alone could efface its
rectangular obscenities, should clothe itself anew in the verdure
and the mountain-slopes and the smiling waters of Paradise, and be
rendered at length a fit dwelling-place for man:- for man the
Death-purged- for man to whose now exalted intellect there should be
poison in knowledge no more- for the redeemed, regenerated,
blissful, and now immortal, but still for the material, man.

  * The word "purification" seems here to be used with reference to
its root in the Greek, pur, fire.

  UNA. Well do I remember these conversations, dear Monos; but the
epoch of the fiery overthrow was not so near at hand as we believed,
and as the corruption you indicate did surely warrant us in believing.
Men lived; and died individually. You yourself sickened, and passed
into the grave; and thither your constant Una speedily followed you.
And though the century which has since elapsed, and whose conclusion
brings us thus together once more, tortured our slumbering senses with
no impatience of duration, yet, my Monos, it was a century still.
  MONOS. Say, rather, a point in the vague infinity. Unquestionably,
it was in the Earth's dotage that I died. Wearied at heart with
anxieties which had their origin in the general turmoil and decay, I
succumbed to the fierce fever. After some few days of pain, and many
of dreamy delirium replete with ecstasy, the manifestations of which
you mistook for pain, while I longed but was impotent to undeceive
you- after some days there came upon me, as you have said, a
breathless and motionless torpor; and this was termed Death by those
who stood around me.
  Words are vague things. My condition did not deprive me of
sentience. It appeared to me not greatly dissimilar to the extreme
quiescence of him, who, having slumbered long and profoundly, lying
motionless and fully prostrate in a midsummer noon, begins to steal
slowly back into consciousness, through the mere sufficiency of his
sleep, and without being awakened by external disturbances.
  I breathed no longer. The pulses were still. The heart had ceased to
beat. Volition had not departed, but was powerless. The senses were
unusually active, although eccentrically so- assuming often each
other's functions at random. The taste and the smell were inextricably
confounded, and became one sentiment, abnormal and intense. The
rosewater with which your tenderness had moistened my lips to the
last, affected me with sweet fancies of flowers- fantastic flowers,
far more lovely than any of the old Earth, but whose prototypes we
have here blooming around us. The eyelids, transparent and
bloodless, offered no complete impediment to vision. As volition was
in abeyance the balls could not roll in their sockets- but all objects
within the range of the visual hemisphere were seen with more or
less distinctness; the rays which fell upon the external retina, or
into the corner of the eye, producing a more vivid effect than those
which struck the front or anterior surface. Yet, in the former
instance, this effect was so far anomalous that I appreciated it
only as sound- sound sweet or discordant as the matters presenting
themselves at my side were light or dark in shade- curved or angular
in outline. The hearing at the same time, although excited in
degree, was not irregular in action- estimating real sounds with an
extravagance of precision, not less than of sensibility. Touch had
undergone a modification more peculiar. Its impressions were tardily
received, but pertinaciously retained, and resulted always in the
highest physical pleasure. Thus the pressure of your sweet fingers
upon my eyelids, at first only recognized through vision, at length,
long after their removal, filled my whole being with a sensual delight
immeasurable. I say with a sensual delight. All my perceptions were
purely sensual. The materials furnished the passive brain by the
senses were not in the least degree wrought into shape by the deceased
understanding. Of pain there was some little; of pleasure there was
much; but of moral pain or pleasure none at all. Thus your wild sobs
floated into my ears with all their mournful cadences, and were
appreciated in their every variation of sad tone; but they were soft
musical sounds and no more; they conveyed to the extinct reason no
intimation of the sorrows which gave them birth; while the large and
constant tears which fell upon my face, telling the bystanders of a
heart which broke, thrilled every fibre of my frame with ecstasy
alone. And this was in truth the Death of which these bystanders spoke
reverently, in low whispers- you, sweet Una, gaspingly, with loud
cries.
  They attired me for the coffin- three or four dark figures which
flitted busily to and fro. As these crossed the direct line of my
vision they affected me as forms; but upon passing to my side their
images impressed me with the idea of shrieks, groans, and other dismal
expressions of terror, of horror, or of wo. You alone, habited in a
white robe, passed in all directions musically about me.
  The day waned; and, as its light faded away, I became possessed by a
vague uneasiness- an anxiety such as the sleeper feels when sad real
sounds fall continuously within his ear- low distant bell tones,
solemn, at long but equal intervals, and commingling with melancholy
dreams. Night arrived; and with its shadows a heavy discomfort. It
oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was
palpable. There was also a moaning sound, not unlike the distant
reverberation of surf, but more continuous, which beginning with the
first twilight, had grown in strength with the darkness. Suddenly
lights were brought into the room, and this reverberation became
forthwith interrupted into frequent unequal bursts of the same
sound, but less dreary and less distinct. The ponderous oppression was
in a great measure relieved; and, issuing from the flame of each lamp,
(for there were many,) there flowed unbrokenly into my ears a strain
of melodious monotone. And when now, dear Una, approaching the bed
upon which I lay outstretched, you sat gently by my side, breathing
odor from your sweet lips, and pressing them upon my brow, there arose
tremulously within my bosom, and mingling with the merely physical
sensations which circumstances had called forth, a something akin to
sentiment itself- a feeling that, half appreciating, half responded to
your earnest love and sorrow,- but this feeling took no root in the
pulseless heart, and seemed indeed rather a shadow than a reality, and
faded quickly away, first into extreme quiescence, and then into a
purely sensual pleasure as before.
  And now, from the wreck and the chaos of the usual senses, there
appeared to have arisen within me a sixth, all perfect. In its
exercise I found a wild delight yet a delight still physical, inasmuch
as the understanding had in it no part. Motion in the animal frame had
fully ceased. No muscle quivered; no nerve thrilled; no artery
throbbed. But there seemed to have sprung up in the brain, that of
which no words could convey to the merely human intelligence even an
indistinct conception. Let me term it a mental pendulous pulsation. It
was the moral embodiment of man's abstract idea of Time. By the
absolute equalization of this movement- or of such as this- had the
cycles of the firmamental orbs themselves, been adjusted. By its aid I
measured the irregularities of the clock upon the mantel, and of the
watches of the attendants. Their tickings came sonorously to my
ears. The slightest deviation from the true proportion- and these
deviations were omni-prevalent- affected me just as violations of
abstract truth were wont, on earth, to affect the moral sense.
Although no two of the time-pieces in the chamber struck individual
seconds accurately together, yet I had no difficulty in holding
steadily in mind the tones, and the respective momentary errors of
each. And this- this keen, perfect, self-existing sentiment of
duration- this sentiment existing (as man could not possibly have
conceived it to exist) independently of any succession of events- this
idea- this sixth sense, upspringing from the ashes of the rest, was
the first obvious and certain step of the intemporal soul upon the
threshold of the temporal Eternity.
  It was midnight; and you still sat by my side. All others had
departed from the chamber of Death. They had deposited me in the
coffin. The lamps burned flickeringly; for this I knew by the
tremulousness of the monotonous strains. But, suddenly these strains
diminished in distinctness and in volume. Finally they ceased. The
perfume in my nostrils died away. Forms affected my vision no
longer. The oppression of the Darkness uplifted itself from my
bosom. A dull shock like that of electricity pervaded my frame, and
was followed by total loss of the idea of contact. All of what man has
termed sense was merged in the sole consciousness of entity, and in
the one abiding sentiment of duration. The mortal body had been at
length stricken with the hand of the deadly Decay.
  Yet had not all of sentience departed; for the consciousness and the
sentiment remaining supplied some of its functions by a lethargic
intuition. I appreciated the direful change now in operation upon
the flesh, and, as the dreamer is sometimes aware of the bodily
presence of one who leans over him, so, sweet Una, I still dully
felt that you sat by my side. So, too, when the noon of the second day
came, I was not unconscious of those movements which displaced you
from my side, which confined me within the coffin, which deposited
me within the hearse, which bore me to the grave, which lowered me
within it, which heaped heavily the mould upon me, and which thus left
me, in blackness and corruption, to my sad and solemn slumbers with
the worm.
  And here, in the prison-house which has few secrets to disclose,
they rolled away days and weeks and months; and the soul watched
narrowly each second as it flew, and, without effort, took record of
its flight- without effort and without object.
  A year passed. The consciousness of being had grown hourly more
indistinct, and that of mere locality had, in great measure, usurped
its position. The idea of entity was becoming merged in that of place.
The narrow space immediately surrounding what had been the body, was
now growing to be the body itself. At length, as often happens to
the sleeper (by sleep and its world alone is Death imaged)- at length,
as sometimes happened on Earth to the deep slumberer, when some
flitting light half startled him into awaking, yet left him half
enveloped in dreams- so to me, in the strict embrace of the Shadow,
came that light which alone might have had power to startle- the light
of enduring Love. Men toiled at the grave in which I lay darkling.
They upthrew the damp earth. Upon my mouldering bones there
descended the coffin of Una.
  And now again all was void. That nebulous light had been
extinguished. That feeble thrill had vibrated itself into
quiescence. Many lustra had supervened. Dust had returned to dust. The
worm had food no more. The sense of being at length utterly
departed, and there reigned in its stead- instead of all things-
dominant and perpetual- the autocrats Place and Time. For that which
was not- for that which had no form- for that which had no thought-
for that which had no sentience- for that which was soulless, yet of
which matter formed no portion- for all this nothingness, yet for
all this immortality, the grave was still a home, and the corrosive
hours, co-mates.


                           THE END
.