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[page 433:]
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THE SPHINX.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DURING the dread reign of the
Cholera
in New-York, I had accepted the invitation of a relative to spend a
fortnight
with him in the retirement of his cottage ornée [[orné]]
on the banks of the Hudson. We had here around us all the ordinary
means
of summer amusement; and what with rambling in the woods, sketching,
boating,
fishing, bathing, music and books, we should have passed the time
pleasantly
enough, but for the fearful intelligence which reached us every morning
from the populous city. Not a day elapsed which did not bring us news
of
the decease of some acquaintance. Then, as the fatality increased, we
learned
to expect daily the loss of some friend. At length we trembled at the
approach
of every messenger. The very air from the South seemed to us redolent
with
death. That palsying thought, indeed, took entire possession of my
soul.
I could neither speak, think, nor dream of anything else. My host was
of
a less excitable temperament, and, although greatly depressed in
spirits,
exerted himself to sustain my own. His richly philosophical intellect
was
not at any time affected by unrealities. To the substances of terror he
was sufficiently alive, but of its shadows he had no apprehension.
His endeavors to arouse me from the
condition of
abnormal gloom into which I had fallen, were frustrated in great
measure,
by certain volumes which I had found in his library. These were of a
character
to force into germination whatever seeds of hereditary superstition lay
latent in my bosom. I had been reading these books without his
knowledge,
and thus he was often at a [page 434:] loss to
account
for the forcible impressions which had been made upon my fancy.
A favorite topic with me was the
popular belief
in
omens — a belief which, at this one epoch of my life, I was almost
seriously
disposed to defend. On this subject we had long and animated
discussions
— he maintaining the utter groundlessness of faith in such matters — I
contending that a popular sentiment arising with absolute spontaneity —
that is to say, without apparent traces of suggestion — had in itself
the
unmistakable elements of truth, and was entitled to much respect.
The fact is, that soon after my
arrival at the
cottage,
there had occurred to myself an incident so entirely inexplicable, and
which had in it so much of the portentous character, that I might well
have been excused for regarding it as an omen. It appalled, and at the
same time so confounded and bewildered me, that many days elapsed
before
I could make up my mind to communicate the circumstances to my friend.
Near the close of an exceedingly warm
day, I was
sitting, book in hand, at an open window, commanding, through a long
vista
of the river banks, a view of a distant hill, the face of which nearest
my position, had been denuded, by what is termed a land-slide, of the
principal
portion of its trees. My thoughts had been long wandering from the
volume
before me to the gloom and desolation of the neighboring city.
Uplifting
my eyes from the page, they fell upon the naked face of the hill, and
upon
an object — upon some living monster of hideous conformation, which
very
rapidly made its way from the summit to the bottom, disappearing
finally
in the dense forest below. As this creature first came in sight, I
doubted
my own sanity — or at least the evidence of my own eyes; and many
minutes
passed before I succeeded in convincing myself that I was neither mad
nor
in a dream. Yet when I describe the monster, (which I distinctly saw,
and
calmly surveyed through the whole period of its progress,) my readers,
I fear, will feel more difficulty in being convinced of these points
than
even I did myself.
Estimating the size of the creature
by comparison
with the diameter of the large trees near which it passed — the few
giants
of the forest which had escaped the fury of the land-slide — I [page
435:] concluded it to be far larger than any ship of the
line
in existence. I say ship of the line, because the shape of the monster
suggested the idea — the hull of one of our seventy-fours might convey
a very tolerable conception of the general outline. The mouth of the
animal
was situated at the extremity of a proboscis some sixty or seventy feet
in length, and about as thick as the body of an ordinary elephant. Near
the root of this trunk was an immense quantity of black shaggy hair —
more
than could have been supplied by the coats of a score of buffaloes; and
projecting from this hair downwardly and laterally, sprang two gleaming
tusks not unlike those of the wild boar, but of infinitely greater
dimension.
Extending forward, parallel with the proboscis, and on each side of it,
was a gigantic staff, thirty or forty feet in length, formed seemingly
of pure crystal, and in shape a perfect prism: — it reflected in the
most
gorgeous manner the rays of the declining sun. The trunk was fashioned
like a wedge with the apex to the earth. From it there were outspread
two
pairs of wings — each wing nearly one hundred yards in length — one
pair
being placed above the other, and all thickly covered with metal
scales;
each scale apparently some ten or twelve feet in diameter. I observed
that
the upper and lower tiers of wings were connected by a strong chain.
But
the chief peculiarity of this horrible thing, was the representation of
a Death's Head, which covered nearly the whole surface of its
breast,
and which was as accurately traced in glaring white, upon the dark
ground
of the body, as if it had been there carefully designed by an artist.
While
I regarded this terrific animal, and more especially the appearance on
its breast, with a feeling of horror and awe — with a sentiment of
forthcoming
evil, which I found it impossible to quell by any effort of the reason,
I perceived the huge jaws at the extremity of the proboscis, suddenly
expand
themselves, and from them there proceeded a sound so loud and so
expressive
of wo, that it struck upon my nerves like a knell, and as the monster
disappeared
at the foot of the hill, I fell at once, fainting, to the floor.
Upon recovering, my first impulse of
course was,
to inform my friend of what I had seen and heard — and I can scarcely
explain
what feeling of repugnance it was, which, in the end, operated to
prevent
me. [page 436:]
At length, one evening, some three or
four days
after
the occurrence, we were sitting together in the room in which I had
seen
the apparition — I occupying the same seat at the same window, and he
lounging
on a sofa near at hand. The association of the place and time impelled
me to give him an account of the phenomenon. He heard me to the end —
at
first laughed heartily — and then lapsed into an excessively grave
demeanor,
as if my insanity was a thing beyond suspicion. At this instant I again
had a distinct view of the monster — to which, with a shout of absolute
terror, I now directed his attention. He looked eagerly — but
maintained
that he saw nothing — although I designated minutely the course of the
creature, as it made its way down the naked face of the hill.
I was now immeasurably alarmed, for I
considered
the vision either as an omen of my death, or, worse, as the forerunner
of an attack of mania. I threw myself passionately back in my chair,
and
for some moments buried my face in my hands. When I uncovered my eyes,
the apparition was no longer visible.
My host, however, had in some degree
resumed the
calmness of his demeanor, and questioned me very rigorously in respect
to the conformation of the visionary creature. When I had fully
satisfied
him on this head, he sighed deeply, as if relieved of some intolerable
burden, and went on to talk, with what I thought a cruel calmness, of
various
points of speculative philosophy, which had heretofore formed subject
of
discussion between us. I remember his insisting very especially (among
other things) upon the idea that the principle source of error in all
human
investigations, lay in the liability of the understanding to under-rate
or to over-value the importance of an object, through mere
misadmeasurement
of its propinquity. "To estimate properly, for example," he said, "the
influence to be exercised on mankind at large by the thorough diffusion
of Democracy, the distance of the epoch at which such diffusion may
possibly
be accomplished, should not fail to form an item in the estimate. Yet
can
you tell me one writer on the subject of government, who has ever
thought
this particular branch of the subject worthy of discussion at all?"
He here paused for a moment, stepped
to a
book-case,
and brought forth one of the ordinary synopses of Natural History. [page
437:] Requesting me then to exchange seats with him, that he
might the better distinguish the fine print of the volume, he took my
arm-chair
at the window, and, opening the book, resumed his discourse very much
in
the same tone as before.
"But for your exceeding minuteness,"
he said, "in
describing the monster, I might never have had it in my power to
demonstrate
to you what it was. In the first place, let me read to you a school-boy
account of the genus Sphinx, of the family Crepuscularia,
of the order Lepidoptera, of the class of Insecta — or
insects.
The account runs thus:
" 'Four membranous wings covered with
little
colored
scales of a metallic appearance; mouth forming a rolled proboscis,
produced
by an elongation of the jaws, upon the sides of which are found the
rudiments
of manibles [[mandibles]] and downy palpi; the inferior wings retained
to the superior by a stiff hair; antennœ [[antennæ]] in the form
of an elongated club, prismatic; abdomen pointed. The Death's-headed
Sphinx
has occasioned much terror among the vulgar, at times, by the
melancholy
kind of cry which it utters, and the insignia of death which it wears
upon
its corslet.' "
He here closed the book and leaned
forward in the
chair, placing himself accurately in the position which I had occupied
at the moment of beholding "the monster."
"Ah, here it is!" he presently
exclaimed — "it is
reascending the face of the hill, and a very remarkable looking
creature,
I admit it to be. Still, it is by no means so large or so distant as
you
imagined it; for the fact is that, as it wriggles its way up this
thread,
which some spider has wrought along the window-sash, I find it to be
about
the sixteenth of an inch in its extreme length, and also about the
sixteenth
of an inch distant from the pupil of my eye." |
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