THE JOURNEY: FIRST STAGE.
“When the omnibus drove on, and I was alone upon the road, I looked
carefully round to ascertain whether the monkey had followed me. To my
indescribable relief I saw it nowhere. I can’t describe easily what a
shock I had received, and my sense of genuine gratitude on finding
myself, as I supposed, quite rid of it.
“I had got out a little before we reached this house, two or three
hundred steps. A brick wall runs along the footpath, and inside the
wall is a hedge of yew or some dark evergreen of that kind, and within
that again the row of fine trees which you may have remarked as you
came.
“This brick wall is about as high as my shoulder, and happening to raise
my eyes I saw the monkey, with that stooping gait, on all fours, walking
or creeping, close beside me on top of the wall. I stopped looking at it
with a feeling of loathing and horror. As I stopped so did it. It sat up
on the wall with its long hands on its knees looking at me. There was
not light enough to see it much more than in outline, nor was it dark
enough to bring the peculiar light of its eyes into strong relief. I
still saw, however, that red foggy light plainly enough. It did not show
its teeth, nor exhibit any sign of irritation, but seemed jaded and
sulky, and was observing me steadily.
“I drew back into the middle of the road. It was an unconscious recoil,
and there I stood, still looking at it, it did not move.
“With an instinctive determination to try something—anything, I turned
about and walked briskly towards town with a skance look, all the time,
watching the movements of the beast. It crept swiftly along the wall, at
exactly my pace.
“Where the wall ends, near the turn of the road, it came down and with a
wiry spring or two brought itself close to my feet, and continued to
keep up with me, as I quickened my pace. It was at my left side, so
close to my leg that I felt every moment as if I should tread upon it.
“The road was quite deserted and silent, and it was darker every moment.
I stopped dismayed and bewildered, turning as I did so, the other way—I
mean, towards this house, away from which I had been walking. When I
stood still, the monkey drew back to a distance of, I suppose, about
five or six yards, and remained stationary, watching me.
“I had been more agitated than I have said. I had read, of course, as
every one has, something about ‘spectral illusions,’ as you physicians
term the phenomena of such cases. I considered my situation, and looked
my misfortune in the face.
“These affections, I had read, are sometimes transitory and sometimes
obstinate. I had read of cases in which the appearance, at first
harmless, had, step by step, degenerated into something direful and
insupportable, and ended by wearing its victim out. Still as I stood
there, but for my bestial companion, quite alone, I tried to comfort
myself by repeating again and again the assurance, ‘the thing is purely
disease, a well-known physical affection, as distinctly as small-pox or
neuralgia. Doctors are all agreed on that, philosophy demonstrates it.
I must not be a fool. I’ve been sitting up too late, and I daresay my
digestion is quite wrong, and with God’s help, I shall be all right, and
this is but a symptom of nervous dyspepsia.’ Did I believe all this? Not
one word of it, no more than any other miserable being ever did who is
once seized and riveted in this satanic captivity. Against my
convictions, I might say my knowledge, I was simply bullying myself into
a false courage.
“I now walked homeward. I had only a few hundred yards to go. I had
forced myself into a sort of resignation, but I had not got over the
sickening shock and the flurry of the first certainty of my misfortune.
“I made up my mind to pass the night at home. The brute moved close
beside me, and I fancied there was the sort of anxious drawing toward
the house, which one sees in tired horses or dogs, sometimes as they
come toward home.
“I was afraid to go into town, I was afraid of any one’s seeing and
recognising me. I was conscious of an irrepressible agitation in my
manner. Also, I was afraid of any violent change in my habits, such as
going to a place of amusement, or walking from home in order to fatigue
myself. At the hall-door it waited till I mounted the steps, and when
the door was opened entered with me.
“I drank no tea that night. I got cigars and some brandy-and-water. My
idea was that I should act upon my material system, and by living for a
while in sensation apart from thought, send myself forcibly, as it it
were, into a new groove. I came up here to this drawing-room. I sat just
here. The monkey then got upon a small table that then stood _there_. It
looked dazed and languid. An irrepressible uneasiness as to its
movements kept my eyes always upon it. Its eyes were half closed, but I
could see them glow. It was looking steadily at me. In all situations,
at all hours, it is awake and looking at me. That never changes.
“I shall not continue in detail my narrative of this particular night. I
shall describe, rather, the phenomena of the first year, which never
varied, essentially. I shall describe the monkey as it appeared in
daylight. In the dark, as you shall presently hear, there are
peculiarities. It is a small monkey, perfectly black. It had only one
peculiarity—a character of malignity—unfathomable malignity. During
the first year it looked sullen and sick. But this character of intense
malice and vigilance was always underlying that surly languor. During
all that time it acted as if on a plan of giving me as little trouble as
was consistent with watching me. Its eyes were never off me, I have
never lost sight of it, except in my sleep, light or dark, day or
night, since it came here, excepting when it withdraws for some weeks at
a time, unaccountably.
“In total dark it is visible as in daylight. I do not mean merely its
eyes. It is _all_ visible distinctly in a halo that resembles a glow of
red embers, and which accompanies it in all its movements.
“When it leaves me for a time, it is always at night, in the dark, and
in the same way. It grows at first uneasy, and then furious, and then
advances towards me, grinning and shaking its paws clenched, and, at the
same time, there comes the appearance of fire in the grate. I never have
any fire. I can’t sleep in the room where there is any, and it draws
nearer and nearer to the chimney, quivering, it seems, with rage, and
when its fury rises to the highest pitch, it springs into the grate, and
up the chimney, and I see it no more.
“When first this happened I thought I was released. I was a new man. A
day passed—a night—and no return, and a blessed week—a week—another
week. I was always on my knees, Dr. Hesselius, always, thanking God and
praying. A whole month passed of liberty, but on a sudden, it was with
me again.”