classic mystery and detective stories- 第44部分

neighbors。　　One　of　them　was　a　puritanical　weaver；　who　had　been

driven　mad　by　a　single　sermon　from　the　celebrated　Hugh　Peters；　and

was　sent　to　the　madhouse　as　full　of　election　and　reprobation　as　he

could　hold；and　fuller。　　He　regularly　repeated　over　the　five

points　while　daylight　lasted；　and　imagined　himself　preaching　in　a

conventicle　with　distinguished　success；　toward　twilight　his　visions

were　more　gloomy；　and　at　midnight　his　blasphemies　became　horrible。

In　the　opposite　cell　was　lodged　a　loyalist　tailor；　who　had　been

ruined　by　giving　credit　to　the　cavaliers　and　their　ladies；（for　at

this　time；　and　much　later；　down　to　the　reign　of　Anne；　tailors　were

employed　by　females　even　to　make　and　fit　on　their　stays）；who　had

run　mad　with　drink　and　loyalty　on　the　burning　of　the　Rump；　and　ever

since　had　made　the　cells　of　the　madhouse　echo　with　fragments　of　the

ill…fated　Colonel　Lovelace's　song；　scraps　from　Cowley's　〃Cutter　of

Coleman　street；〃　and　some　curious　specimens　from　Mrs。　Aphra　Behn's

plays；　where　the　cavaliers　are　denominated　the　heroicks；　and　Lady

Lambert　and　Lady　Desborough　represented　as　going　to　meeting；　their

large　Bibles　carried　before　them　by　their　pages；　and　falling　in

love　with　two　banished　cavaliers　by　the　way。　　The　voice　in　which　he

shrieked　out　such　words　was　powerfully　horrible；　but　it　was　like

the　moan　of　an　infant　compared　to　the　voice　which　took　up　and

reechoed　the　cry；　in　a　tone　that　made　the　building　shake。　　It　was

the　voice　of　a　maniac；　who　had　lost　her　husband；　children；

subsistence；　and　finally　her　reason；　in　the　dreadful　fire　of

London。　　The　cry　of　fire　never　failed　to　operate　with　terrible

punctuality　on　her　associations。　　She　had　been　in　a　disturbed

sleep；　and　now　started　from　it　as　suddenly　as　on　that　dreadful

night。　　It　was　Saturday　night　too；　and　she　was　always　observed　to

be　particularly　violent　on　that　night；it　was　the　terrible　weekly

festival　of　insanity　with　her。　　She　was　awake；　and　busy　in　a　moment

escaping　from　the　flames；　and　she　dramatized　the　whole　scene　with

such　hideous　fidelity；　that　Stanton's　resolution　was　far　more　in

danger　from　her　than　from　the　battle　between　his　neighbors

Testimony　and　Hothead。　　She　began　exclaiming　she　was　suffocated　by

the　smoke；　then　she　sprung　from　her　bed；　calling　for　a　light；　and

appeared　to　be　struck　by　the　sudden　glare　that　burst　through　her

casement。〃The　last　day；〃　she　shrieked；　〃The　last　day！　　The　very

heavens　are　on　fire！〃〃That　will　not　come　till　the　Man　of　Sin　be

first　destroyed；〃　cried　the　weaver；　〃thou　ravest　of　light　and　fire；

and　yet　thou　art　in　utter　darkness。I　pity　thee；　poor　mad　soul；　I

pity　thee！〃　　The　maniac　never　heeded　him；　she　appeared　to　be

scrambling　up　a　staircase　to　her　children's　room。　　She　exclaimed

she　was　scorched；　singed；　suffocated；　her　courage　appeared　to　fail；

and　she　retreated。　　〃But　my　children　are　there！〃　she　cried　in　a

voice　of　unspeakable　agony；　as　she　seemed　to　make　another　effort；

〃here　I　amhere　I　am　come　to　save　you。Oh　God！　　They　are　all

blazing！Take　this　armno；　not　that；　it　is　scorched　and　disabled

well；　any　armtake　hold　of　my　clothesno；　they　are　blazing　too！

Well；　take　me　all　on　fire　as　I　am！And　their　hair；　how　it

hisses！Water；　one　drop　of　water　for　my　youngesthe　is　but　an

infantfor　my　youngest；　and　let　me　burn！〃　　She　paused　in　horrid

silence；　to　watch　the　fall　of　a　blazing　rafter　that　was　about　to

shatter　the　staircase　on　which　she　stood。〃The　roof　has　fallen　on

my　head！〃　she　exclaimed。　　〃The　earth　is　weak；　and　all　the

inhabitants　thereof；〃　chanted　the　weaver；　〃I　bear　up　the　pillars　of

it。〃



The　maniac　marked　the　destruction　of　the　spot　where　she　thought　she

stood　by　one　desperate　bound；　accompanied　by　a　wild　shriek；　and

then　calmly　gazed　on　her　infants　as　they　rolled　over　the　scorching

fragments；　and　sunk　into　the　abyss　of　fire　below。　　〃There　they　go；

onetwothreeall！〃　and　her　voice　sunk　into　low　mutterings；　and

her　convulsions　into　faint；　cold　shudderings；　like　the　sobbings　of

a　spent　storm；　as　she　imagined　herself　to　〃stand　in　safety　and

despair；〃　amid　the　thousand　houseless　wretches　assembled　in　the

suburbs　of　London　on　the　dreadful　nights　after　the　fire；　without

food；　roof；　or　raiment；　all　gazing　on　the　burning　ruins　of　their

dwellings　and　their　property。　　She　seemed　to　listen　to　their

complaints；　and　even　repeated　some　of　them　very　affectingly；　but

invariably　answered　them　with　the　same　words；　〃But　I　have　lost　all

my　childrenall！〃　　It　was　remarkable；　that　when　this　sufferer

began　to　rave；　all　the　others　became　silent。　　The　cry　of　nature

hushed　every　other　cry；she　was　the　only　patient　in　the　house　who

was　not　mad　from　politics；　religion；　ebriety；　or　some　perverted

passion；　and　terrifying　as　the　outbreak　of　her　frenzy　always　was；

Stanton　used　to　await　it　as　a　kind　of　relief　from　the　dissonant；

melancholy；　and　ludicrous　ravings　of　the　others。



But　the　utmost　efforts　of　his　resolution　began　to　sink　under　the

continued　horrors　of　the　place。　　The　impression　on　his　senses　began

to　defy　the　power　of　reason　to　resist　them。　　He　could　not　shut　out

these　frightful　cries　nightly　repeated；　nor　the　frightful　sound　of

the　whip　employed　to　still　them。　　Hope　began　to　fail　him；　as　he

observed；　that　the　submissive　tranquillity　（which　he　had　imagined；

by　obtaining　increased　indulgence；　might　contribute　to　his　escape；

or　perhaps　convince　the　keeper　of　his　sanity）　was　interpreted　by

the　callous　ruffian；　who　was　acquainted　only　with　the　varieties　of

MADNESS；　as　a　more　refined　species　of　that　cunning　which　he　was

well　accustomed　to　watch　and　baffle。



On　his　first　discovery　of　his　situation；　he　had　determined　to　take

the　utmost　care　of　his　health　and　intellect　that　the　place　allowed；

as　the　sole　basis　of　his　hope　of　deliverance。　　But　as　that　hope

declined；　he　neglected　the　means　of　realizing　it。　　He　had　at　first

risen　early；　walked　incessantly　about　his　cell；　and　availed　himself

of　every　opportunity　of　being　in　the　open　air。　　He　took　the

strictest　care　of　his　person　in　point　of　cleanliness；　and　with　or

without　appetite；　regularly　forced　down　his　miserable　meals；　and

all　these　efforts　were　even　pleasant；　as　long　as　hope　prompted

them。　　But　now　he　began　to　relax　them　all。　　He　passed　half　the　day

in　his　wretched　bed；　in　which　he　frequently　took　his　meals；

declined　shaving　or　changing　his　linen；　and；　when　the　sun　shone

into　his　cell；　he　turned　from　it　on　his　straw　with　a　sigh　of

heartbroken　despondency。　　Formerly；　when　the　air　breathed　through

his　grating；　he　used　to　say；　〃Blessed　air　of　heaven；　I　shall

breathe　you　once　more　in　freedom！Reserve　all　your　freshness　for

that　delicious　evening　when　I　shall　inhale　you；　and　be　as　free　as

you　myself。〃　　Now　when　he　felt　it；　he　sighed　and　said　nothing。　　The

twitter　of　the　sparrows；　the　pattering　of　rain；　or　the　moan　of　the

wind；　sounds　that　he　used　to　sit　up　in　his　bed　to　catch　with

delight；　as　reminding　him　of　nature；　were　now　unheeded。



He　began　at　times　to　listen　with　sullen　and　horrible　pleasure　to

the　cries　of　his　miserable　companions。　　He　became　squalid；

listless；　torpid；　and　disgusting　in　his　appearance。



　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。



It　was　one　of　those　dismal　nights；　that；　as　he　tossed　on　his

loathsome　bed；more　loathsome　from　the　impossibility　to　quit　it

without　feeling　more　〃unrest；〃he　perceived　the　miserable　light

that　burned　in　the　hearth　was　obscured　by　the　intervention　of　some

dark　object。　　He　turned　feebly　toward　the　light；　without　curiosity；

without　excitement；　but　with　a　wish　to　diversify　the　monotony　of

his　misery；　by　observing　the　slightest　change　made　even

accidentally　in　the　dusky　atmosphere　of　his　cell。　　Between　him　and

the　light　stood　the　figure　of　Melmoth；　just　as　he　had　seen　him　from

the　first；　the　figure　was　the　same；　the　expression　of　the　face　was

the　same；cold；　stony；　and　rigid；　the　eyes；　with　their　infernal

and　dazzling　luster；　were　still　the　same。



Stanton's　ruling　passion　rushed　on　his　soul；　he　felt　this

apparition　like　a　summons　to　a　high　and　fearful　encounter。　　He

heard　his　heart　beat　audibly；　and　could　have　exclaimed　with　Lee's

unfortunate　heroine；〃It　pants　as　cowards　do　before　a　battle；　Oh

the　great　march　has　sounded！〃



Melmoth　approached　him　with　that　frightful　calmness　that　mocks　the

terror　it　excites。　　〃My　prophecy　has　been　fulfilled；you　rise　to

meet　me　rattling　from　your　chains；　and　rustling　from　your　strawam

I　not　a　true　prophet？〃　　Stanton　was　silent。　　〃Is　not　your　situation

very　miserable？〃Still　Stanton　was　silent；　for　he　was　beginning　to

believe　this　an　illusion　of　madness。　　He　thought　to　himself；　〃How

could　he　have　gained　entrance　here？〃〃Would　you　not　wish　to　be

delivered　from　it？〃　　Stanton　tossed　on　his　straw；　and　its　rustling

seemed　to　answer　the　question。　　〃I　have　the　power　to　deliver　you

from　it。〃　　Melmoth　spoke　very　slowly　and　very　softly；　and　the

melodious　smoothness　of　his　voice　made　a　frightful　contrast　to　the

stony　rigor