Is there anywhere in the world so damnable a place of torment as
a bed? To lie awake through the slow, dragging hours, surrounded
by a sombre quietude from whose stifling blackness thoughts, like
demons, leap to catch us by the throat; or, like waves, come
rolling in upon us, ceaselessly, remorselessly--burying us beneath
their resistless flow, catching us up, whirling us dizzily
aloft, dashing us down into depths infinite; now retreating, now
advancing, from whose oncoming terror there is no escape, until
we are once more buried beneath their stifling rush.
To lie awake, staring wide-eyed into a crowding darkness wherein
move terrors unimagined; to bury our throbbing temples in pillows
of fire; to roll and toss until the soul within us cries out in
agony, and we reach out frantic hands into a void that mocks us
by the contrast of its deep and awful quiet. At such times fair
Reason runs affrighted to hide herself, and foaming Madness fills
her throne; at such times our everyday sorrows, howsoever small
and petty they be, grow and magnify themselves until they
overflow the night, filling the universe above and around us; and
of all the woes the human mind can bear--surely Suspicion gnaws
deeper than them all!
So I lay beneath the incubus, my temples clasped tight between my
burning palms to stay the maddening ring of the hammer in my
brain. And suspicion grew into certainty, and with certainty
came madness; imagination ran riot: she was a Messalina--a Julia
--a Joan of Naples--a veritable Succuba--a thing polluted,
degraded, and abominable; and, because of her beauty, I cursed
all beautiful things, and because of her womanhood, I cursed all
women. And ever the hammer beat upon my brain, and foul shapes
danced before my eyes--shapes so insanely hideous and revolting
that, of a sudden, I rose from my bed, groaning, and coming to
the casement--leaned out.
Oh! the cool, sweet purity of the night! I heard the soft stir
and rustle of leaves all about me, and down from heaven came a
breath of wind, and in the wind a great raindrop that touched my
burning brow like the finger of God. And, leaning there, with
parted lips and closed eyes, gradually my madness left me, and
the throbbing in my brain grew less.
How many poor mortals, since the world began, sleepless and
anguish-torn--even as I--have looked up into that self-same sky
and sorrowed for the dawn!
"For her love, in sleep I slake,
For her love, all night I wake,
For her love, I mourning make
More than any man!"
Poor fool! to think that thou couldst mourn more than thy kind!
Thou'rt but a little handful of gray dust, ages since, thy name
and estate long out of mind; where'er thou art, thou shouldst
have got you wisdom by now, perchance.
Poor fool! that thou must love a woman--and worship with thy
love, building for her an altar in thine heart. If altar crumble
and heart burst, is she to blame who is but woman, or thou, who
wouldst have made her all divine?
Well, thou'rt dead--a small handful of gray dust, long since
--perchance thou hast got thee wisdom ere now--poor fool--O Fool
Divine!
As thou art now, thy sleepless nights forgot--the carking sorrows
of thy life all overpast, and done--so must I some time be, and,
ages hence, shall smile at this, and reckon it no more than a
broken toy--heigho!
And so I presently turned back to my tumbled bed, but it seemed
to me that torment and terror still waited me there; moreover, I
was filled with a great desire for action. This narrow chamber
stifled me, while outside was the stir of leaves, the gentle
breathing of the wind, the cool murmur of the brook, with night
brooding over all, deep and soft and still.
Being now dressed, I stood awhile, deliberating how I might
escape without disturbing her who slumbered in the outer room.
So I came to the window, and thrusting my head and shoulders
sidewise through the narrow lattice, slowly, and with much ado,
wriggled myself out. Rising from my hands and knees, I stood up
and threw wide my arms to the perfumed night, inhaling its
sweetness in great, deep breaths, and so turned my steps towards
the brook, drawn thither by its rippling melody; for a brook is a
companionable thing, at all times, to a lonely man, and very full
of wise counsel and friendly admonitions, if he but have ears to
hear withal.
Thus, as I walked beside the brook, it spoke to me of many things,
grave and gay, delivering itself of observations upon the folly of
Humans, comparing us very unfavorably with the godlike dignity of
trees, the immutability of mountains, and the profound philosophy
of brooks. Indeed it waged most eloquent upon this theme,
caustic, if you will, but with a ripple, between whiles, like the
deep-throated chuckle of the wise old philosopher it was.
"Go to!" chuckled the brook. "Oh, heavy-footed, heavy-sighing
Human--go to! It is written that Man was given dominion over
birds and beasts and fishes, and all things made, yet how doth
Man, in all his pride, compare with even a little mountain? And,
as to birds and beasts and fishes, they provide for themselves,
day in and day out, while Man doth starve and famish! To what
end is Man born but to work, beget his kind, and die? O Man!
lift up thy dull-sighted eyes--behold the wonder of the world,
and the infinite universe about thee; behold thyself, and see thy
many failings and imperfections, and thy stupendous littleness
--go to! Man was made for the world, and not the world for man!
Man is a leaf in the forest--a grain of dust borne upon the wind,
and, when the wind faileth, dust to dust returneth; out upon
thee, with thy puny griefs and sorrows.
"O Man!--who hath dominion over all things save thine own heart,
and who, in thy blind egotism, setteth thyself much above me,
who am but a runlet of water. O Man! I tell thee, when thou art
dusty bones, I shall still be here, singing to myself in the sun
or talking to some other poor human fool, in the dark. Go to!"
chuckled the brook, "the Wheel of Life turneth ever faster and
faster; the woes of to-day shall be the woes of last year, or
ever thou canst count them all--out upon thee--go to!"