For there be divers
sorts of death -- some wherein the body remaineth; and in some it
vanisheth quite away with the spirit. This commonly occurreth only
in solitude (such is God's will) and, none seeing the end, we say
the man is lost, or gone on a long journey -- which indeed he hath;
but sometimes it hath happened in sight of many, as abundant
testimony showeth. In one kind of death the spirit also dieth, and
this it hath been known to do while yet the body was in vigor for
many years. Sometimes, as is veritably attested, it dieth with the
body, but after a season is raised up again in that place where the
body did decay.
Pondering these words of Hali (whom
God rest) and questioning their full meaning, as one who, having an
intimation, yet doubts if there be not something behind, other than
that which he has discerned, I noted not whither I had strayed until
a sudden chill wind striking my face revived in me a sense of my
surroundings. I observed with astonishment that everything seemed
unfamiliar. On every side of me stretched a bleak and desolate
expanse of plain, covered with a tall overgrowth of sere grass, which
rustled and whistled in the autumn wind with heaven knows what
mysterious and disquieting suggestion. Protruded at long intervals
above it, stood strangely shaped and somber- colored rocks, which
seemed to have an understanding with one another and to exchange
looks of uncomfortable significance, as if they had reared their
heads to watch the issue of some foreseen event. A few blasted trees
here and there appeared as leaders in this malevolent conspiracy of
silent expectation.
The day, I thought, must be far
advanced, though the sun was invisible; and although sensible that
the air was raw and chill my consciousness of that fact was rather
mental than physical -- I had no feeling of discomfort. Over all the
dismal landscape a canopy of low, lead-colored clouds hung like a
visible curse. In all this there were a menace and a portent -- a
hint of evil, an intimation of doom. Bird, beast, or insect there was
none. The wind sighed in the bare branches of the dead trees and the
gray grass bent to whisper its dread secret to the earth; but no
other sound nor motion broke the awful repose of that dismal place.
I observed in the herbage a number of
weather-worn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken,
covered with moss and half-sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate,
some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. They were obviously
headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed
as either mounds or depressions; the years had leveled all. Scattered
here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous or
ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. So
old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of
affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained -- so
neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help
thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric
race of men whose very name was long extinct.
Filled with these reflections, I was
for some time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences, but
soon I thought, "How came I hither?" A moment's reflection
seemed to make this all clear and explain at the same time, though in
a disquieting way, the singular character with which my fancy had
invested all that I saw or heard. I was ill. I remembered now that I
had been prostrated by a sudden fever, and that my family had told me
that in my periods of delirium I had constantly cried out for liberty
and air, and had been held in bed to prevent my escape out-of-doors.
Now I had eluded the vigilance of my attendants and had wandered
hither to -- to where? I could not conjecture. Clearly I was at a
considerable distance from the city where I dwelt -- the ancient and
famous city of Carcosa.
No signs of human life were anywhere
visible or audible; no rising smoke, no watchdog's bark, no lowing
cattle, no shouts of children at play -- nothing but that dismal
burial-place with its air of mystery and dread, due to my own
disordered brain. Was I not becoming again delirious, there beyond
human aid? Was it not indeed all an illusion of my madness? I
called aloud the names of my wives and sons, reaching out my hands in
search of theirs, even as I walked among the crumbling stones and in
the withered grass.
A noise behind me caused me to turn
about. A wild animal -- a lynx -- was approaching. The thought came
to me: If I break down here in the desert -- if the fever return and
I fail, this beast will be at my throat. I sprang toward it,
shouting. It trotted tranquilly within a hand's breadth of me and
disappeared behind a rock.
A moment later a man's head appeared
to rise out of the the ground a short distance away. He was ascending
the farther slope of a low hill whose crest was hardly to be
distinguished from the general level. His whole figure soon came into
view against the background of gray cloud. He was half naked, half
clad in skins. His hair was unkempt, his beard long and ragged. In
one hand he carried a bow and arrow; the other held a blazing torch
with a long trail of black smoke. He walked slowly and with caution,
as if he feared falling into some open grave concealed by the tall
grass. This strange apparition surprised but did not alarm, and
taking course to intercept him I met him almost face to face,
accosting him with the familiar salutation, "God keep you."
He gave no heed, nor did he arrest
his pace.
"Good stranger," I
continued, "I am ill and lost. Direct me, I beseech you, to
Carcosa."
The man broke into a barbarous chant
in an unknown tongue, passing on and away.
An owl on the branch of a decayed
tree hooted dismally and was answered by another in the distance.
Looking upward, I saw through a sudden rift in the clouds Aldebaran
and the Hyades! In all this there was a hint of night -- the lynx,
the man with the torch, the owl. Yet I saw -- I saw even the stars in
absence of darkness. I saw, but was apparently not seen nor heard.
Under what awful spell did I exist?
I seated myself at the root of a
great tree, seriously to consider what it were best to do. That I was
mad I could no longer doubt, yet recognized a ground of doubt in the
conviction. Of fever I had no trace. I had, withal, a sense of
exhilaration and vigor altogether unknown to me -- a feeling of
mental and physical exaltation. My senses seemed all alert; I could
feel the air as a ponderous substance; I could hear the silence.
A great root of the giant tree
against whose trunk I leaned as I sat held inclosed in its grasp a
slab of stone, a part of which protruded into a recess formed by
another root. The stone was thus partly protected from the weather,
though greatly decomposed. Its edges were worn round, its corners
eaten away, its surface deeply furrowed and scaled. Glittering
particles of mica were visible in the earth about it -- vestiges of
its decomposition. This stone had apparently marked the grave out of
which the tree had sprung ages ago. The tree's exacting roots had
robbed the grave and made the stone a prisoner.
A sudden wind pushed some dry leaves
and twigs from the uppermost face of the stone; I saw the low-relief
letters of an inscription and bent to read it. God in Heaven! my
name in full! -- the date of my birth! -- the date of my
death!
A level shaft of light illuminated
the whole side of the tree as I sprang to my feet in terror. The sun
was rising in the rosy east. I stood between the tree and his broad
red disk -- no shadow darkened the trunk!
A chorus of howling wolves saluted
the dawn. I saw them sitting on their haunches, singly and in groups,
on the summits of irregular mounds and tumuli filling a half of my
desert prospect and extending to the horizon. And then I knew that
these were ruins of the ancient and famous city of Carcosa.
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