dwelt on so long； that he had actually converted it into a duty；
was after all mere curiosity； but what passion is more insatiable；
or more capable of giving a kind of romantic grandeur to all its
wanderings and eccentricities？ Curiosity is in one respect like
love； it always compromises between the object and the feeling； and
provided the latter possesses sufficient energy； no matter how
contemptible the former may be。 A child might have smiled at the
agitation of Stanton； caused as it was by the accidental appearance
of a stranger； but no man； in the full energy of his passions； was
there； but must have trembled at the horrible agony of emotion with
which he felt approaching； with sudden and irresistible velocity；
the crisis of his destiny。
When the play was over； he stood for some moments in the deserted
streets。 It was a beautiful moonlight night； and he saw near him a
figure； whose shadow； projected half across the street （there were
no flagged ways then； chains and posts were the only defense of the
foot passenger）； appeared to him of gigantic magnitude。 He had
been so long accustomed to contend with these phantoms of the
imagination； that he took a kind of stubborn delight in subduing
them。 He walked up to the object； and observing the shadow only
was magnified； and the figure was the ordinary height of man； he
approached it； and discovered the very object of his search；the
man whom he had seen for a moment in Valencia； and； after a search
of four years； recognized at the theater。
。 。 。 。 。
〃You were in quest of me？〃〃I was。〃 〃Have you anything to inquire
of me？〃〃Much。〃 〃Speak； then。〃〃This is no place。〃 〃No place！
poor wretch； I am independent of time and place。 Speak； if you
have anything to ask or to learn。〃〃I have many things to ask； but
nothing to learn； I hope； from you。〃 〃You deceive yourself； but
you will be undeceived when next we meet。〃〃And when shall that
be？〃 said Stanton； grasping his arm； 〃name your hour and your
place。〃 〃The hour shall be midday；〃 answered the stranger； with a
horrid and unintelligible smile； 〃and the place shall be the bare
walls of a madhouse； where you shall rise rattling in your chains；
and rustling from your straw； to greet me；yet still you shall
have THE CURSE OF SANITY； and of memory。 My voice shall ring in
your ears till then； and the glance of these eyes shall be
reflected from every object； animate or inanimate； till you behold
them again。〃〃Is it under circumstances so horrible we are to meet
again？〃 said Stanton； shrinking under the full…lighted blaze of
those demon eyes。 〃I never；〃 said the stranger； in an emphatic
tone；〃I never desert my friends in misfortune。 When they are
plunged in the lowest abyss of human calamity； they are sure to be
visited by me。〃
。 。 。 。 。
The narrative； when Melmoth was again able to trace its
continuation； described Stanton； some years after； plunged in a
state the most deplorable。
He had been always reckoned of a singular turn of mind； and the
belief of this； aggravated by his constant talk of Melmoth； his
wild pursuit of him； his strange behavior at the theater； and his
dwelling on the various particulars of their extraordinary
meetings； with all the intensity of the deepest conviction （while
he never could impress them on any one's conviction but his own）；
suggested to some prudent people the idea that he was deranged。
Their malignity probably took part with their prudence。 The
selfish Frenchman* says； we feel a pleasure even in the misfortunes
of our friends；a plus forte in those of our enemies； and as
everyone is an enemy to a man of genius of course； the report of
Stanton's malady was propagated with infernal and successful
industry。 Stanton's next relative； a needy unprincipled man；
watched the report in its circulation； and saw the snares closing
round his victim。 He waited on him one morning； accompanied by a
person of a grave； though somewhat repulsive appearance。 Stanton
was as usual abstracted and restless； and； after a few moments'
conversation； he proposed a drive a few miles out of London； which
he said would revive and refresh him。 Stanton objected； on account
of the difficulty of getting a hackney coach （for it is singular
that at this period the number of private equipages； though
infinitely fewer than they are now； exceeded the number of hired
ones）； and proposed going by water。 This； however； did not suit
the kinsman's views； and； after pretending to send for a carriage
（which was in waiting at the end of the street）； Stanton and his
companions entered it； and drove about two miles out of London。
* Rochefoucauld。
The carriage then stopped。 Come； Cousin；〃 said the younger
Stanton；〃come and view a purchase I have made。〃 Stanton absently
alighted； and followed him across a small paved court； the other
person followed。 〃In troth； Cousin；〃 said Stanton； 〃your choice
appears not to have been discreetly made； your house has somewhat
of a gloomy aspect。〃〃Hold you content； Cousin；〃 replied the
other； 〃I shall take order that you like it better； when you have
been some time a dweller therein。〃 Some attendants of a mean
appearance； and with most suspicious visages； awaited them on their
entrance； and they ascended a narrow staircase； which led to a room
meanly furnished。 〃Wait here；〃 said the kinsman； to the man who
accompanied them； 〃till I go for company to divertise my cousin in
his loneliness。〃 They were left alone。 Stanton took no notice of
his companion； but as usual seized the first book near him； and
began to read。 It was a volume in manuscript；they were then much
more common than now。
The first lines struck him as indicating insanity in the writer。
It was a wild proposal （written apparently after the great fire of
London） to rebuild it with stone； and attempting to prove； on a
calculation wild； false； and yet sometimes plausible； that this
could be done out of the colossal fragments of Stonehenge； which
the writer proposed to remove for that purpose。 Subjoined were
several grotesque drawings of engines designed to remove those
massive blocks； and in a corner of the page was a note；〃I would
have drawn these more accurately； but was not allowed a KNIFE to
mend my pen。〃
The next was entitled； 〃A modest proposal for the spreading of
Christianity in foreign parts； whereby it is hoped its
entertainment will become general all over the world。〃This modest
proposal was； to convert the Turkish ambassadors （who had been in
London a few years before）； by offering them their choice of being
strangled on the spot； or becoming Christians。 Of course the
writer reckoned on their embracing the easier alternative； but even
this was to be clogged with a heavy condition；namely； that they
must be bound before a magistrate to convert twenty Mussulmans a
day； on their return to Turkey。 The rest of the pamphlet was
reasoned very much in the conclusive style of Captain Bobadil；
these twenty will convert twenty more apiece； and these two hundred
converts； converting their due number in the same time； all Turkey
would be converted before the Grand Signior knew where he was。
Then comes the coup d'eclat；one fine morning； every minaret in
Constantinople was to ring out with bells； instead of the cry of
the Muezzins； and the Imaum； coming out to see what was the matter；
was to be encountered by the Archbishop of Canterbury； in
pontificalibus； performing Cathedral service in the church of St。
Sophia； which was to finish the business。 Here an objection
appeared to arise； which the ingenuity of the writer had
anticipated。〃It may be redargued；〃 saith he； 〃by those who have
more spleen than brain； that forasmuch as the Archbishop preacheth
in English； he will not thereby much edify the Turkish folk； who do
altogether hold in a vain gabble of their own。〃 But this （to use
his own language） he 〃evites；〃 by judiciously observing； that where
service was performed in an unknown tongue； the devotion of the
people was always observed to be much increased thereby； as； for
instance； in the church of Rome；that St。 Augustine； with his
monks； advanced to meet King Ethelbert singing litanies （in a
language his majesty could not possibly have understood）； and
converted him and his whole court on the spot；that the sybilline
books。 。 。 。
。 。 。 。 。
Cum multis aliis。
Between the pages were cut most exquisitely in paper the likenesses
of some of these Turkish ambassadors； the hair of the beards； in
particular； was feathered with a delicacy of touch that seemed the
work of fairy fingers；but the pages ended with a complaint of the
operator； that his scissors had been taken from him。 However； he
consoled himself and the reader with the assurance； that he would
that night catch a moonbeam as it entered through the grating； and；
when he had whetted it on the iron knobs of his door； would do
wonders with it。 In the next page was found a melancholy proof of
powerful but prostrated intellect。 It contained some insane lines；
ascribed to Lee the dramatic poet； commencing；
〃O that my lungs could bleat like buttered pease；〃 &c。
There is no proof whatever that these miserable lines were really
written by Lee； except that the measure is the fashionable quatrain
of the period。 It is singular that Stanton read on without
suspicion of his own danger； quite absorbed in the album of a
madhouse； without ever reflecting on the place where he was； and
which such compositions too manifestly designated。
It was after a long interval that he looked round； and perceived
that his companion was gone。 Bells were unusual then。 He
proceeded to the door；it was fastened。 He called aloud；his
voice was echoed in a moment by many others； but in tones so wild
and discordant； that he desisted in involuntary terror。 As the day
advanced； and no one approached； he tried the window； and then
perceived for the first time it was grated。 It looked out on the
narrow flagged yard； in which no human being was； and if there had；
from such a being no human feeling could have been extracted。
Sickening