crying out, as I struck him again, 'You gather a band! What could you
offer them? Where would you find them? Are you better than the rest of
us? Are you not a man like the rest? Strike me you can, for I'm down. But
make yourself a master and a chief--you!'
'Why not I?' I shouted again, wild with rage and the sense that I had no
power over him, save to hurt him. That passion made my hands tremble; he
slipped from me in a moment, bounded from the ground like a ball, and
with a yell of derision escaped, and plunged into the streets and the
clamor of the city from which I had just flown. I felt myself rage after
him, shaking my fists with a consciousness of the ridiculous passion of
impotence that was in me, but no power of restraining it; and there was
not one of the fugitives who passed, however desperate he might be, who
did not make a mock at me as he darted by. The laughing-stock of all
those miserable objects, the sport of fate, afraid to go forwards, unable
to go back, with a fire in my veins urging me on! But presently I grew a
little calmer out of mere exhaustion, which was all the relief that was
possible to me. And by and by, collecting all my faculties, and impelled
by this impulse, which I seemed unable to resist, I got up and went
cautiously on.
Fear can act in two ways: it paralyzes, and it renders cunning. At this
moment I found it inspire me. I made my plans before I started, how to
steal along under the cover of the blighted brushwood which broke the
line of the valley here and there. I set out only after long thought,
seizing the moment when the vaguely perceived band were scouring in the
other direction intercepting the travellers. Thus, with many pauses, I
got near to the pit's mouth in safety. But my curiosity was as great as,
almost greater than my terror. I had kept far from the road, dragging
myself sometimes on hands and feet over broken ground, tearing my clothes
and my flesh upon the thorns; and on that farther side all seemed so
silent and so dark in the shadow cast by some disused machinery, behind
which the glare of the fire from below blazed upon the other side of the
opening, that I could not crawl along in the darkness, and pass, which
would have been the safe way, but with a breathless hot desire to see and
know, dragged myself to the very edge to look down. Though I was in the
shadow, my eyes were nearly put out by the glare on which I gazed. It was
not fire; it was the lurid glow of the gold, glowing like flame, at which
countless miners were working. They were all about like flies,--some on
their knees, some bent double as they stooped over their work, some lying
cramped upon shelves and ledges. The sight was wonderful, and terrible
beyond description. The workmen seemed to consume away with the heat and
the glow, even in the few minutes I gazed. Their eyes shrank into their
heads; their faces blackened. I could see some trying to secret morsels
of the glowing metal, which burned whatever it touched, and some who were
being searched by the superiors of the mines, and some who were punishing
the offenders, fixing them up against the blazing wall of gold. The fear
went out of my mind, so much absorbed was I in this sight. I gazed,
seeing farther and farther every moment into crevices and seams of the
glowing metal, always with more and more slaves at work, and the entire
pantomime of labor and theft, and search and punishment, going on and
on,--the baked faces dark against the golden glare, the hot eyes taking a
yellow reflection, the monotonous clamor of pick and shovel, and cries
and curses, and all the indistinguishable sound of a multitude of human
creatures. And the floor below, and the low roof which overhung whole
myriads within a few inches of their faces, and the irregular walls all
breached and shelved, were every one the same, a pandemonium of
gold,--gold everywhere. I had loved many foolish things in my life, but
never this; which was perhaps why I gazed and kept my sight, though there
rose out of it a blast of heat which scorched the brain.
While I stooped over, intent on the sight, some one who had come up by
my side to gaze too was caught by the fumes (as I suppose), for suddenly
I was aware of a dark object falling prone into the glowing interior with
a cry and crash which brought back my first wild panic. He fell in a
heap, from which his arms shot forth wildly as he reached the bottom, and
his cry was half anguish yet half desire. I saw him seized by half a
dozen eager watchers, and pitched upon a ledge just under the roof, and
tools thrust into his hands. I held on by an old shaft, trembling, unable
to move. Perhaps I cried too in my horror,--for one of the overseers who
stood in the centre of the glare looked up. He had the air of ordering
all that was going on, and stood unaffected by the blaze, commanding the
other wretched officials, who obeyed him like dogs. He seemed to me, in
my terror, like a figure of gold, the image perhaps of wealth or Pluto,
or I know not what, for I suppose my brain began to grow confused, and my
hold on the shaft to relax. I had strength enough, however (for I cared
not for the gold), to fling myself back the other way upon the ground,
where I rolled backwards, downwards, I knew not how, turning over and
over upon sharp ashes and metallic edges, which tore my hair and
beard.--and for a moment I knew no more.
This fall saved me. I came to myself after a time, and heard the
press-gang searching about. I had sense to lie still among the ashes
thrown up out of the pit, while I heard their voices. Once I gave myself
up for lost. The glitter of a lantern flashed in my eyes, a foot passed,
crashing among the ashes so close to my cheek that the shoe grazed it. I
found the mark after, burned upon my flesh; but I escaped notice by a
miracle. And presently I was able to drag myself up and crawl away; but
how I reached the end of the valley I cannot tell. I pushed my way along
mechanically on the dark side. I had no further desire to see what was
going on in the openings of the mines. I went on, stumbling and stupid,
scarcely capable even of fear, conscious only of wretchedness and
weariness, till at last I felt myself drop across the road within the
gateway of the other town, and lay there with no thought of anything but
the relief of being at rest.
When I came to myself, it seemed to me that there was a change in the
atmosphere and the light. It was less lurid, paler, gray, more like
twilight than the stormy afternoon of the other city. A certain dead
serenity was in the sky,--black paleness, whiteness, everything faint in
it. This town was walled, but the gates stood open, and I saw no defences
of troops or other guardians. I found myself lying across the threshold,
but pushed to one side, so that the carriages which went and came should
not be stopped or I injured by their passage. It seemed to me that there
was some thoughtfulness and kindness in this action, and my heart sprang
up in a reaction of hope. I looked back as if upon a nightmare on the
dreadful city which I had left, on its tumults and noise, the wild racket
of the streets, the wounded wretches who sought refuge in the corners,
the strife and misery that were abroad, and, climax of all, the horrible
entertainment which had been going on in the square, the unhappy being
strapped upon the table. How, I said to myself, could such things be? Was
it a dream? Was it a nightmare? Was it something presented to me in a
vision,--a strong delusion to make me think that the old fables which had
been told concerning the end of mortal life were true? When I looked back
it appeared like an allegory, so that I might have seen it in a dream;
and still more like an allegory were the gold mines in the valley, and
the myriads who labored there. Was it all true, or only a reflection
from the old life mingling with the strange novelties which would most
likely elude understanding on the entrance into this new? I sat within
the shelter of the gateway on my awakening, and thought over all this. My
heart was calm,--almost, in the revulsion from the terrors I had been
through, happy. I persuaded myself that I was but now beginning; that
there had been no reality in these latter experiences, only a curious
succession of nightmares, such as might so well be supposed to follow a
wonderful transformation like that which must take place between our
mortal life and--the world to come. The world to come! I paused and
thought of it all, until the heart began to beat loud in my breast. What
was this where I lay? Another world,--a world which was not happiness,
not bliss? Oh, no; perhaps there was no world of bliss save in dreams.
This, on the other hand, I said to myself, was not misery; for was not I
seated here, with a certain tremulousness about me, it was true, after
all the experiences which, supposing them even to have been but dreams, I
had come through,--a tremulousness very comprehensible, and not at all
without hope?
I will not say that I believed even what I tried to think. Something in
me lay like a dark shadow in the midst of all my theories; but yet I
succeeded to a great degree in convincing myself that the hope in me was
real, and that I was but now beginning--beginning with at least a
possibility that all might be well. In this half conviction, and after
all the troubles that were over (even though they might only have been
imaginary troubles), I felt a certain sweetness in resting there within
the gateway, with my back against it. I was unwilling to get up again,
and bring myself in contact with reality. I felt that there was pleasure
in being left alone. Carriages rolled past me occasionally, and now and
then some people on foot; but they did not kick me out of the way or
interfere with my repose.
Presently as I sat trying to persuade myself to rise and pursue my way,
two men came up to me in a sort of uniform. I recognized with another
distinct sensation of pleasure that here were people who had authority,
representatives of some kind of government. They came up to me and bade
me come with them in tones which were peremptory enough; but what of
that?--better the most peremptory supervision than the lawlessness from
which I had come. They raised me from the ground with a touch, for I
could not resist them, and led me quickly along the street into which
that gateway gave access, which was a handsome street with tall houses
on either side. Groups of people were moving about along the pavement,
talking now and then with considerable animation; but when my companions
were seen, there was an immediate moderation of tone, a sort of respect
which looked like fear. There was no brawling nor tumult of any kind in
the street. The only incident that occurred was this: when we had gone
some way, I saw a lame man dragging himself along with difficulty on the
other side of the street. My conductors had no sooner perceived him than
they gave each other a look and darted across, conveying me with them,
by a sweep of magnetic influence, I thought, that prevented me from
staying behind. He made an attempt with his crutches to get out of the
way, hurrying on--and I will allow that this attempt of his seemed to me
very grotesque, so that I could scarcely help laughing; the other
lookers-on in the street laughed too, though some put on an aspect of
disgust. 'Look, the tortoise!' some one said; 'does he think he can go
quicker than the orderlies?' My companions came up to the man while this
commentary was going on, and seized him by each arm. 'Where were you
going? Where have you come from? How dare you make an exhibition of
yourself?' they cried. They took the crutches from him as they spoke and
threw them away, and dragged him on until we reached a great grated door
which one of them opened with a key, while the other held the offender
(for he seemed an offender) roughly up by one shoulder, causing him
great pain. When the door was opened, I saw a number of people within,
who seemed to crowd to the door as if seeking to get out; but this was
not at all what was intended. My second companion dragged the lame man
forwards, and pushed him in with so much violence that I could see him
fall forwards on his face on the floor. Then the other locked the door,
and we proceeded on our way. It was not till some time later that I
understood why.
In the mean time I was hurried on, meeting a great many people who took
no notice of me, to a central building in the middle of the town, where I
was brought before an official attended by clerks, with great books
spread out before him. Here I was questioned as to my name and my
antecedents and the time of my arrival, then dismissed with a nod to one
of my conductors. He led me back again down the street, took me into one
of the tall great houses, opened the door of a room which was numbered,
and left me there without a word. I cannot convey to any one the
bewildered consternation with which I felt myself deposited here; and as
the steps of my conductor died away in the long corridor, I sat down, and
looking myself in the face, as it were, tried to make out what it was
that had happened to me. The room was small and bare. There was but one
thing hung upon the undecorated walls, and that was a long list of
printed regulations which I had not the courage for the moment to look
at. The light was indifferent, though the room was high up, and the
street from the window looked far away below. I cannot tell how long I
sat there thinking, and yet it could scarcely be called thought. I asked
myself over and over again, Where am I? is it a prison? am I shut in, to
leave this enclosure no more? what am I to do? how is the time to pass? I
shut my eyes for a moment and tried to realize all that had happened to
me; but nothing save a whirl through my head of disconnected thoughts
seemed possible, and some force was upon me to open my eyes again, to
see the blank room, the dull light, the vacancy round me in which there
was nothing to interest the mind, nothing to please the eye,--a blank
wherever I turned. Presently there came upon me a burning regret for
everything I had left,--for the noisy town with all its tumults and
cruelties, for the dark valley with all its dangers. Everything seemed
bearable, almost agreeable, in comparison with this. I seemed to have
been brought here to make acquaintance once more with myself, to learn
over again what manner of man I was. Needless knowledge, acquaintance
unnecessary, unhappy! for what was there in me to make me to myself a
good companion? Never, I knew, could I separate myself from that eternal
consciousness; but it was cruelty to force the contemplation upon me. All
blank, blank around me, a prison! And was this to last forever?
I do not know how long I sat, rapt in this gloomy vision; but at last it
occurred to me to rise and try the door, which to my astonishment was
open. I went out with a throb of new hope. After all, it might not be
necessary to come back. There might be other expedients; I might fall
among friends. I turned down the long echoing stairs, on which I met
various people, who took no notice of me, and in whom I felt no interest
save a desire to avoid them, and at last reached the street. To be out of
doors in the air was something, though there was no wind, but a
motionless still atmosphere which nothing disturbed. The streets, indeed,
were full of movement, but not of life--though this seems a paradox. The
passengers passed on their way in long regulated lines,--those who went
towards the gates keeping rigorously to one side of the pavement, those
who came, to the other. They talked to each other here and there; but
whenever two men in uniform, such as those who had been my conductors,
appeared, silence ensued, and the wayfarers shrank even from the looks of
these persons in authority. I walked all about the spacious town.
Everywhere there were tall houses, everywhere streams of people coming
and going, but no one spoke to me, or remarked me at all. I was as lonely
as if I had been in a wilderness. I was indeed in a wilderness of men,
who were as though they did not see me, passing without even a look of
human fellowship, each absorbed in his own concerns. I walked and walked
till my limbs trembled under me, from one end to another of the great
streets, up and down, and round and round. But no one said, How are you?
Whence come you? What are you doing? At length in despair I turned again
to the blank and miserable room, which had looked to me like a cell in a
prison. I had wilfully made no note of its situation, trying to avoid
rather than to find it, but my steps were drawn thither against my will.
I found myself retracing my steps, mounting the long stairs, passing the
same people, who streamed along with no recognition of me, as I desired
nothing to do with them; and at last found myself within the same four
blank walls as before.
Soon after I returned I became conscious of measured steps passing the
door, and of an eye upon me. I can say no more than this. From what point
it was that I was inspected I cannot tell; but that I was inspected,
closely scrutinized by some one, and that not only externally, but by a
cold observation that went through and through me, I knew and felt beyond
any possibility of mistake. This recurred from time to time, horribly, at
uncertain moments, so that I never felt myself secure from it. I knew
when the watcher was coming by tremors and shiverings through all my
being; and no sensation so unsupportable has it ever been mine to bear.
How much that is to say, no one can tell who has not gone through those
regions of darkness, and learned what is in all their abysses. I tried at
first to hide, to fling myself on the floor, to cover my face, to burrow
in a dark corner. Useless attempts! The eyes that looked in upon me had
powers beyond my powers. I felt sometimes conscious of the derisive smile
with which my miserable subterfuges were regarded. They were all in vain.
And what was still more strange was that I had not energy to think of
attempting any escape. My steps, though watched, were not restrained in
any way, so far as I was aware. The gates of the city stood open on all
sides, free to those who went as well as to those who came; but I did not
think of flight. Of flight! Whence should I go from myself? Though that
horrible inspection was from the eyes of some unseen being, it was in
some mysterious way connected with my own thinking and reflections, so
that the thought came ever more and more strongly upon me, that from
myself I could never escape. And that reflection took all energy, all
impulse from me. I might have gone away when I pleased, beyond reach of
the authority which regulated everything,--how one should walk, where
one should live,--but never from my own consciousness. On the other side
of the town lay a great plain, traversed by roads on every side. There
was no reason why I should not continue my journey there; but I did not.
I had no wish nor any power in me to go away.
In one of my long, dreary, companionless walks, unshared by any human
fellowship, I saw at last a face which I remembered; it was that of the
cynical spectator who had spoken to me in the noisy street, in the
midst of my early experiences. He gave a glance round him to see that
there were no officials in sight, then left the file in which he was
walking, and joined me. 'Ah!' he said, 'you are here already,' with the
same derisive smile with which he had before regarded me. I hated the
man and his sneer, yet that he should speak to me was something, almost
a pleasure.
'Yes,' said I, 'I am here.' Then, after a pause, in which I did not know
what to say, 'It is quiet here,' I said.
'Quiet enough. Do you like it better for that? To do whatever you please
with no one to interfere; or to do nothing you please, but as you are
forced to do it,--which do you think is best?'
I felt myself instinctively glance round, as he had done, to make sure
that no one was in sight. Then I answered, faltering, 'I have always held
that law and order were necessary things; and the lawlessness of
that--that place--I don't know its name--if there is such a place,' I
cried, 'I thought it was a dream.'
He laughed in his mocking way. 'Perhaps it is all a dream; who knows?' he
said.
'Sir,' said I, 'you have been longer here than I--'
'Oh,' cried he, with a laugh that was dry and jarred upon the air almost
like a shriek, 'since before your forefathers were born!' It seemed to me
that he spoke like one who, out of bitterness and despite, made every
darkness blacker still. A kind of madman in his way; for what was this
claim of age?--a piece of bravado, no doubt, like the rest.
'That is strange,' I said, assenting, as when there is such a
hallucination it is best to do. 'You can tell me, then, whence all this
authority comes, and why we are obliged to obey.'
He looked at me as if he were thinking in his mind how to hurt me most.
Then, with that dry laugh, 'We make trial of all things in this world,'
he said, 'to see if perhaps we can find something we shall
like.--discipline here, freedom in the other place. When you have gone
all the round like me, then perhaps you will be able to choose.'
'Have you chosen?' I asked.
He only answered with a laugh. 'Come,' he said, 'there is amusement to be
had too, and that of the most elevated kind. We make researches here into
the moral nature of man. Will you come? But you must take the risk,' he
added with a smile which afterwards I understood.
We went on together after this till we reached the centre of the place,
in which stood an immense building with a dome, which dominated the city,
and into a great hall in the centre of that, where a crowd of people were
assembled. The sound of human speech, which murmured all around, brought
new life to my heart. And as I gazed at a curious apparatus erected on a
platform, several people spoke to me.
'We have again,' said one, 'the old subject to-day.'
'Is it something about the constitution of the place?' I asked in the
bewilderment of my mind. My neighbors looked at me with alarm, glancing
behind them to see what officials might be near.
'The constitution of the place is the result of the sense of the
inhabitants that order must be preserved,' said the one, who had spoken
to me first. 'The lawless can find refuge in other places. Here we have
chosen to have supervision, nuisances removed, and order kept. That is
enough. The constitution is not under discussion.'
'But man is,' said a second speaker. 'Let us keep to that in which we can
mend nothing. Sir, you may have to contribute your quota to our
enlightenment. We are investigating the rise of thought. You are a
stranger; you may be able to help us.'
'I am no philosopher,' I said with a panic which I could not explain
to myself.
'That does not matter. You are a fresh subject.' The speaker made a
slight movement with his hand, and I turned round to escape in wild,
sudden fright, though I had no conception what could be done to me; but
the crowd had pressed close round me, hemming one in on every side. I was
so wildly alarmed that I struggled among them, pushing backwards with all
my force, and clearing a space round me with my arms; but my efforts were
vain. Two of the officers suddenly appeared out of the crowd, and
seizing me by the arms, forced me forwards. The throng dispersed before
them on either side, and I was half dragged, half lifted up upon the
platform, where stood the strange apparatus which I had contemplated with
a dull wonder when I came into the hall. My wonder did not last long. I
felt myself fixed in it, standing supported in that position by bands and
springs, so that no effort of mine was necessary to hold myself up, and
none possible to release myself. I was caught by every joint, sustained,
supported, exposed to the gaze of what seemed a world of upturned faces;
among which I saw, with a sneer upon it, keeping a little behind the
crowd, the face of the man who had led me here. Above my head was a
strong light, more brilliant than anything I had ever seen, and which
blazed upon my brain till the hair seemed to singe and the skin shrink. I
hope I may never feel such a sensation again. The pitiless light went
into me like a knife; but even my cries were stopped by the framework in
which I was bound. I could breathe and suffer, but that was all.