ETIDORHPA
CHAPTER I.
" NEVER LESS ALONE THAN
WHEN ALONE."
MORE than thirty years ago occurred the first of the series of remarkable events
I am about to relate. The exact date I can not recall; but it was in November,
and, to those familiar with November weather in the Ohio Valley, it is hardly
necessary to state that the month is one of possibilities. That is to say, it is
liable to bring every variety of weather, from the delicious, dreamy Indian
summer days that linger late in the fall, to a combination of rain, hail, snow,
sleet,- in short, atmospheric conditions sufficiently aggravating to develop a
suicidal mania in any one the least susceptible to such influences. While the
general character of the month is much the same the country over,- showing dull
grey tones of sky, abundant rains that penetrate man as they do the earth; cold,
shifting winds, that search the very marrow,- it is always safe to count more or
less upon the probability of the unexpected throughout the month.
The particular day which ushered in the event about to be chronicled, was one of
these possible heterogeneous days presenting a combination of sunshine, shower,
and snow, with winds that rang all the changes from balmy to blustery, a morning
air of caloric and an evening of numbing cold. The early morning started fair
and sunny; later came light showers suddenly switched by shifting winds into
blinding sleet, until the middle of the afternoon found the four winds and all
the elements commingled in one wild orgy with clashing and roaring as of a great
organ with all the stops out, and all the storm
-fiends dancing over the key-boards! Nightfall brought some semblance of order
to the sounding chaos, but still kept up the wild music of a typical, November
day, with every accompaniment of bleakness, gloom, and desolation.
Thousands of chimneys, exhaling murky clouds of bituminous soot all day, had
covered the city with the proverbial pall which the winds in their sport had
shifted hither and yon, but as, thoroughly tired out, they subsided into silence,
the smoky mesh suddenly settled over the houses and into the streets, taking
possession of the city and contributing to the melancholy wretchedness of such
of the inhabitants as had to be out of doors. Through this smoke the red sun
when visible had dragged his downward course in manifest discouragement, and the
hastening twilight soon gave place to the blackness of darkness. Night reigned
supreme.
Thirty years ago electric lighting was not in vogue, and the system of street
lamps was far less complete than at present, although the gas burned in them may
not have been any worse. The lamps were much fewer and farther between, and the
light which they emitted had a feeble, sickly aspect, and did not reach any
distance into the moist and murky atmosphere. And so the night was dismal enough,
and the few people upon the street were visible only as they passed directly
beneath the lamps, or in front of lighted windows; seeming at other times like
moving shadows against a black ground.
As I am like to be conspicuous in these pages, it may be proper to say that I am
very susceptible to atmospheric influences. I figure among my friends as a man
of quiet disposition, but I am at times morose, although I endeavor to conceal
this fact from others. My nervous system is a sensitive weather-glass. Sometimes
I fancy that I must have been born under the planet Saturn, for I find myself
unpleasantly influenced by moods ascribed to that depressing planet, more
especially in its disagreeable phases, for I regret to state that I do not find
corresponding elation, as I should, in its brighter aspects. I have an especial
dislike for wintry weather, a dislike which I find growing with my years, until
it has developed almost into positive antipathy and dread. On the day I have
described, my moods had varied with the weather. The fitfulness of the winds had
found its way into my feelings, and the somber tone of the clouds into my
meditations. I was restless as the elements, and a deep sense of dissatisfaction
with myself and everything else, possessed me. I could not content myself in any
place or position. Reading was distasteful, writing equally so; but it occurred
to me that a brisk walk, for a few blocks, might afford relief. Muffling myself
up in my overcoat and fur cap, I took the street, only to find the air gusty and
raw, and I gave up in still greater disgust, and returning home, after drawing
the curtains and locking the doors, planted myself in front of a glowing grate
fire, firmly resolved to rid myself of myself by resorting to the oblivion of
thought, reverie, or dream. To sleep was impossible, and I sat moodily in an
easy chair, noting the quarter and half-hour strokes as they were chimed out
sweetly from the spire of St. Peter's Cathedral, a few blocks away.
Nine o'clock passed with, its silver-voiced song of " Home, Sweet Home
"; ten, and then eleven strokes of the ponderous bell which noted the hours,
roused me to a strenuous effort to shake off the feelings of despondency, unrest,
and turbulence, that all combined to produce a state of mental and physical
misery now insufferable. Rising suddenly from my chair, without a conscious
effort I walked mechanically to a book-case, seized a volume at random, reseated
myself before the fire, and opened the book. It proved to be an odd, neglected
volume, " Riley's Dictionary of Latin Quotations." At the moment there
flashed upon me a conscious duality of existence. Had the old book some mesmeric
power? I seemed to myself two persons, and I quickly said aloud, as if
addressing my double: " If I can not quiet you, turbulent Spirit, I can at
least adapt myself to your condition. I will read this book haphazard from
bottom to top, or backward, if necessary, and if this does not change the
subject often enough, I will try Noah Webster." Opening the book
mechanically at page 297, I glanced at the bottom line and read, " Nunquam
minus solos quam cum solos " ( Never less alone than when alone ). These
words arrested my thoughts at once, as, by a singular chance, they seemed to fit
my mood; was it or was it not some conscious invisible intelligence that caused
me to select that page, and brought the apothegm to my notice?
Again, like a flash, came the consciousness of duality, and I began to argue
with my other self. " This is arrant nonsense," I cried aloud; "
even though Cicero did say it, and, it is on a par with many other delusive
maxims that have for so many years embittered the existence of our modern youth
by misleading thought. Do you know, Mr. Cicero, that this statement is not sound?
That it is unworthy the position you occupy in history as a thinker and
philosopher? That it is a contradiction in itself, for if a man is alone he is
alone, and that settles it?"
I mused in this vein a few moments, and then resumed aloud: " It won't do,
it won't do; if one is alone- the word is absolute,- he is single, isolated, in
short, alone; and there can by no manner of possibility be any one else present.
Take myself, for instance: I am the sole occupant of this apartment; I am alone,
and yet you say in so many words that I was never less alone than at this
instant." It was not without some misgiving that I uttered these words, for
the strange consciousness of my own duality constantly grew stronger, and I
could not shake off the reflection that even now there were two of myself in the
room, and that I was not so much alone as I endeavored to convince myself.
This feeling oppressed me like an incubus; I must throw it off, and, rising, I
tossed the book upon the table, exclaiming
" What folly! I am alone,- positively there is no other living thing
visible or invisible in the room." I hesitated as I spoke, for the strange,
undefined sensation that I was not alone had become almost a conviction; but the
sound of my voice encouraged me, and I determined to discuss the subject, and I
remarked in a full, strong voice: " I am surely alone; I know I am! Why, I
will wager everything I possess, even to my soul, that I am alone." I stood
facing the smoldering embers of the fire which I had neglected to replenish,
uttering these words to settle the controversy for good and all with one person
of my dual self, but the other ego seemed to dissent violently, when a soft,
clear voice claimed my ear:
" You have lost your wager; you are not alone."
I turned instantly towards the direction of the sound, and, to my amazement, saw
a white-haired man seated on the opposite side of the room, gazing at me with
the utmost composure. I am not a coward, nor a believer in ghosts or illusions,
and yet that sight froze me where I stood. It had no supernatural appearance- on
the contrary, was a plain, ordinary, flesh-and-blood man;
but the weather, the experiences of the day, the weird, inclement night, had all
conspired to strain my nerves to the highest point of tension, and I trembled
from head to foot. Noting this, the stranger said pleasantly: " Quiet
yourself, my dear sir; you have nothing to fear; be seated." I obeyed,
mechanically, and regaining in a few moments some semblance of composure, took a
mental inventory of my visitor. Who is he? what is he? how did he enter without
my notice, and why? what is his business? were all questions that flashed into
my mind in quick succession, and quickly flashed out unanswered.
The stranger sat eying me composedly, even pleasantly, as if waiting for me to
reach some conclusion regarding himself. At last I surmised: " He is a
maniac who has found his way here by methods peculiar to the insane, and my
personal safety demands that I use him discreetly."
" Very good," he remarked, as though reading my thoughts ; " as
well think that as anything else."
" But why are you here? What is your business?" I asked.
" You have made and lost a wager," he said. " You have committed
an act of folly in making positive statements regarding a matter about which you
know nothing- a very common failing, by the way, on the part of mankind, and
concerning which I wish first to set you straight."
The ironical coolness with which he said this provoked me, and I hastily
rejoined: " You are impertinent; I must ask you to leave my house at once."
" Very well," he answered; " but if you insist upon this, I shall,
on behalf of Cicero, claim the stake of your voluntary wager, which means that I
must first, by natural though violent means, release your soul from your body."
So saying he arose, drew from an inner pocket a long, keen knife, the blade of
which quivenngly glistened as he laid it upon the table. Moving his chair so: as
to be within easy reach of the gleaming weapon, be sat down, and again regarded
me with the same quiet composure I had noted, and which was fast dispelling my
first impression concerning his sanity.
I was not prepared for his strange action; in truth, I was not repared for
anything; my mind was confused concerning the
whole night's doings, and I was unable to reason clearly or
consecutively, or even to satisfy myself what I did think, if indeed I thought
at all.
The sensation of fear, however, was fast leaving me ; there was something
reassuring in my unbidden guest's perfect ease of manner, and the mild, though
searching gaze of his eyes, which were wonderful in their expression. I began to
observe his personal characteristics, which impressed me favorably, and yet were
extraordinary. He was nearly six feet tall, and perfectly straight; well
proportioned, with no tendency either to leanness or obesity. But his head was
an object from which I could not take my eyes,- such a head surely I had never
before seen on mortal shoulders. The chin, as seen through his silver beard, was
rounded and well developed, the mouth straight, with pleasant lines about it,
the jaws square and, like the mouth, indicating decision, the eyes deep set and
arched with heavy eyebrows, and the whole surmounted by a forehead so vast, so
high, that it was almost a deformity, and yet it did not impress me unpleasantly;
it was the forehead of a scholar, a profound thinker, a deep student. The nose
was inclined to aquiline, and quite large. The contour of the head and face
impressed me as indicating a man of learning, one who had given a lifetime to
experimental as well as speculative thought. His voice was mellow, clear, and
distinct, always pleasantly modulated and soft, never loud nor unpleasant in the
least degree. One remarkable feature I must not fail to mention- his hair; this,
while thin and scant upon the top of his head, was long, and reached to his
shoulders; his beard was of unusual length, descending almost to his waist; his
hair, eyebrows, and beard were all of singular whiteness and purity, almost
transparent, a silvery whiteness that seemed an aureolar sheen in the glare of
the gaslight. What struck me as particularly remarkable was that his skin looked
as soft and smooth as that of a child; there was not a blemish in it. His age
was a puzzle none could guess; stripped of his hair, or the color of it changed,
he might be twenty-five,- given a few wrinkles, he might be ninety. Taken
altogether, I had never seen his like, nor anything approaching his like, and
for an instant there was a faint suggestion to my mind that he was not of this
earth, but belonged to some other planet.
I now fancy he must have read my impressions of him as these ideas shaped
themselves in my brain, and that he was quietly
waiting for me to regain a degree of self-possession that would allow him to
disclose the purpose of his visit.
He was first to break the silence: " I see that you are not disposed to pay
your wager any more than I am to collect it, so we will not discuss that. I
admit that my introduction tonight was abrupt, but you can not deny that you
challenged me to appear." I was not clear upon the point, and said so.
" Your memory is at fault," he continued, " if you can not recall
your experiences of the day just past. Did you not attempt to interest yourself
in modern book lore, to fix your mind in turn upon history, chemistry, botany,
poetry, and general literature? And all these failing, did you not deliberately
challenge Cicero to a practical demonstration of an old apothegm of his that has
survived for centuries, and of your own free will did not you make a wager that,
as an admirer of Cicero's, I am free to accept?" To all this I could but
silently assent. " Very good, then; we will not pursue this subject further,
as it is not relevant to my purpose, which is to acquaint you with a narrative
of unusual interest, upon certain conditions, with which if you comply, you will
not only serve yourself, but me as well."
" Please name the conditions," I said.
" They are simple enough," he answered. " The narrative I speak
of is in manuscript. I will produce it in the near future, and my design is to
read it aloud to you, or to allow you to read it to me, as you may select.
Further, my wish is that during the reading you shall interpose any objection or
question that you deem proper. This reading will occupy many evenings, and I
shall of necessity be with you often. When the reading is concluded, we will
seal the package securely, and I shall leave you forever. You will then deposit
the manuscript in some safe place, and let it remain for thirty years. When this
period has elapsed, I wish you to publish this history to the world."
" Your conditions seem easy," I said, after a few seconds' pause.
" They are certainly very simple; do you accept?"
I hesitated, for the prospect of giving myself up to a succession of interviews
with this extraordinary and mysterious personage seemed to require consideration.
He evidently divined my thoughts, for, rising from his chair, he said abruptly:
" Let me have your answer now."
I debated the matter no further, but answered: " I accept, conditionally."
" Name your conditions," the guest replied.
" I will either publish the work, or induce some other man to do so."
" Good," he said; " I will see you again," with a polite bow;
and turning to the door which I had previously locked, he opened it softly, and
with a quiet " Good night" disappeared in the hallway.
I looked after him with bewildered senses; but a sudden impulse caused me to
glance toward the table, when I saw that he had forgotten his knife. With the
view of returning this, I reached to pick it up, but my finger tips no sooner
touched the handle than a sudden chill shivered along my nerves. Not as an
electric shock, but rather as a sensation of extreme cold was the current that
ran through me in an instant. Rushing into the hallway to the landing of the
stairs, I called after the mysterious being, " You have forgotten your
knife," but beyond the faint echo of my voice, I heard no sound. The
phantom was gone. A moment later I was at the foot of the stairs, and had thrown
open the door. A street lamp shed an uncertain light in front of the house. I
stepped out and listened intently for a moment, but not a sound was audible, if
indeed I except the beating of my own heart, which throbbed so wildly that I
fancied I heard it. No footfall echoed from the deserted streets; all was silent
as a churchyard, and I closed and locked the door softly, tiptoed my way back to
my room, and sank collapsed into an easy chair. I was more than exhausted; I
quivered from head to foot, not with cold, but with a strange nervous chill that
found intensest expression in my spinal column, and seemed to flash up and down
my back vibrating like a feverous pulse. This active pain was succeeded by a
feeling of frozen numbness, and I sat I know not how long, trying to tranquilize
myself and think temperately of the night's occurrence. By degrees I recovered
my normal sensations, and directing my will in the channel of sober reasoning, I
said to myself: " There can be no mistake about his visit, for his knife is
here as a witness to the fact. So much is sure, and I will secure that testimony
at all events." With this reflection I turned to the table, but to my
astonishment; I discovered that the knife had disappeared. It needed but this
miracle to start the perspiration in great cold beads from every pore. My brain
was in a whirl, and reeling into a chair, I covered my face with my hands. How
long I sat in this posture I do not remember. I only know that I began to doubt
my own sanity, and wondered if this were not the way people became deranged. Had
not my peculiar habits of isolation, irregular and intense study, erratic
living, all conspired to unseat reason ? Surely here was every ground to believe
so; and yet I was able still to think consistently and hold steadily to a single
line of thought. Insane people can not do that, I reflected, and gradually the
tremor and excitement wore away. When I had become calmer and more collected,
and my sober judgment said, " Go to bed; sleep just as long as you can;
hold your eyelids down, and when you awake refreshed, as you will, think out the
whole subject at your leisure," I arose, threw open the shutters, and found
that day was breaking. Hastily undressing I went to bed, and closed my eyes,
vaguely conscious of some soothing guardianship. Perhaps because I was
physically exhausted, I soon lost myself in the oblivion of sleep.
I did not dream,- at least I could not afterwards remember my dream if I had one,
but I recollect thinking that somebody struck ten distinct blows on my door,
which seemed to me to be of metal and very sonorous. These ten blows in my
semi-conscious state I counted. I lay very quiet for a time collecting my
thoughts and noting various objects about the room, until my eye caught the dial
of a French clock upon the mantel. It was a few minutes past ten, and the blows
I had heard were the strokes of the hammer upon the gong in the clock. The sun
was shining into the room, which was quite cold, for the fire had gone out. I
arose, dressed myself quickly, and after thoroughly laving my face and hands in
ice-cold water, felt considerably refreshed.
Before going out to breakfast, while looking around the room for a few things
which I wanted to take with me, I espied upon the table a long white hair. This
was indeed a surprise, for I had about concluded that my adventure of the
previous night was a species of waking nightmare, the result of overworked brain
and weakened body. But here was tangible evidence to the contrary, an assurance
that my mysterious visitor was not a fancy or a dream, and his parting words,
" I will see you again," recurred to me with singular effect. "
He will see me again; very well; I will preserve this evidence of his visit for
future use." I wound the delicate filament into a little coil, folded it
carefully in a bit of paper, and consigned it to a corner in my pocket-book,
though not without some misgiving that it too night disappear as did the knife.
The strange experience of that night had a good effect on me; I became more
regular in all my habits, took abundant deep and exercise, was more methodical
in my modes of study and reasoning, and in a short time found myself vastly
improved n every way, mentally and physically.
The days went fleeting into weeks, the weeks into months, and while the form and
figure of the white-haired stranger were seldom absent from my mind, he came no
more.