you myself。〃 Now when he felt it； he sighed and said nothing。 The
twitter of the sparrows； the pattering of rain； or the moan of the
wind； sounds that he used to sit up in his bed to catch with
delight； as reminding him of nature； were now unheeded。
He began at times to listen with sullen and horrible pleasure to
the cries of his miserable companions。 He became squalid；
listless； torpid； and disgusting in his appearance。
。 。 。 。 。
It was one of those dismal nights； that； as he tossed on his
loathsome bed；more loathsome from the impossibility to quit it
without feeling more 〃unrest；〃he perceived the miserable light
that burned in the hearth was obscured by the intervention of some
dark object。 He turned feebly toward the light； without curiosity；
without excitement； but with a wish to diversify the monotony of
his misery； by observing the slightest change made even
accidentally in the dusky atmosphere of his cell。 Between him and
the light stood the figure of Melmoth； just as he had seen him from
the first； the figure was the same； the expression of the face was
the same；cold； stony； and rigid； the eyes； with their infernal
and dazzling luster； were still the same。
Stanton's ruling passion rushed on his soul； he felt this
apparition like a summons to a high and fearful encounter。 He
heard his heart beat audibly； and could have exclaimed with Lee's
unfortunate heroine；〃It pants as cowards do before a battle； Oh
the great march has sounded！〃
Melmoth approached him with that frightful calmness that mocks the
terror it excites。 〃My prophecy has been fulfilled；you rise to
meet me rattling from your chains； and rustling from your strawam
I not a true prophet？〃 Stanton was silent。 〃Is not your situation
very miserable？〃Still Stanton was silent； for he was beginning to
believe this an illusion of madness。 He thought to himself； 〃How
could he have gained entrance here？〃〃Would you not wish to be
delivered from it？〃 Stanton tossed on his straw； and its rustling
seemed to answer the question。 〃I have the power to deliver you
from it。〃 Melmoth spoke very slowly and very softly； and the
melodious smoothness of his voice made a frightful contrast to the
stony rigor of his features； and the fiendlike brilliancy of his
eyes。 〃Who are you； and whence come you？〃 said Stanton； in a tone
that was meant to be interrogatory and imperative； but which； from
his habits of squalid debility； was at once feeble and querulous。
His intellect had become affected by the gloom of his miserable
habitation； as the wretched inmate of a similar mansion； when
produced before a medical examiner； was reported to be a complete
Albino。His skin was bleached； his eyes turned white； he could not
bear the light； and； when exposed to it； he turned away with a
mixture of weakness and restlessness； more like the writhings of a
sick infant than the struggles of a man。
Such was Stanton's situation。 He was enfeebled now； and the power
of the enemy seemed without a possibility of opposition from either
his intellectual or corporeal powers。
。 。 。 。 。
Of all their horrible dialogue； only these words were legible in
the manuscript； 〃You know me now。〃〃I always knew you。〃〃That is
false； you imagined you did； and that has been the cause of all the
wild 。 of the 。 。 。 。 。
。 of your finally being lodged in this mansion of misery； where
only I would seek； where only I can succor you。〃〃You； demon！〃
〃Demon！Harsh words！Was it a demon or a human being placed you
here？Listen to me； Stanton； nay； wrap not yourself in that
miserable blanket；that cannot shut out my words。 Believe me；
were you folded in thunder clouds； you must hear ME！ Stanton；
think of your misery。 These bare wallswhat do they present to
the intellect or to the senses？Whitewash； diversified with the
scrawls of charcoal or red chalk； that your happy predecessors have
left for you to trace over。 You have a taste for drawingI trust
it will improve。 And here's a grating； through which the sun
squints on you like a stepdame； and the breeze blows； as if it
meant to tantalize you with a sigh from that sweet mouth； whose
kiss you must never enjoy。 And where's your library；intellectual
man；traveled man？〃 he repeated in a tone of bitter derision；
〃where be your companions； your peaked men of countries； as your
favorite Shakespeare has it？ You must be content with the spider
and the rat； to crawl and scratch round your flock bed！ I have
known prisoners in the Bastille to feed them for companions；why
don't you begin your task？ I have known a spider to descend at the
tap of a finger； and a rat to come forth when the daily meal was
brought； to share it with his fellow prisoner！How delightful to
have vermin for your guests！ Aye； and when the feast fails them；
they make a meal of their entertainer！You shudder。Are you；
then； the first prisoner who has been devoured alive by the vermin
that infested his cell？Delightful banquet； not 'where you eat；
but where you are eaten'！ Your guests； however； will give you one
token of repentance while they feed； there will be gnashing of
teeth； and you shall hear it； and feel it too perchance！And then
for mealsOh you are daintily off！The soup that the cat has
lapped； and （as her progeny has probably contributed to the hell
broth） why not？ Then your hours of solitude； deliciously
diversified by the yell of famine； the howl of madness； the crash
of whips； and the broken…hearted sob of those who； like you； are
supposed； or DRIVEN mad by the crimes of others！Stanton； do you
imagine your reason can possibly hold out amid such scenes？
Supposing your reason was unimpaired； your health not destroyed；
suppose all this； which is； after all； more than fair supposition
can grant； guess the effect of the continuance of these scenes on
your senses alone。 A time will come； and soon； when； from mere
habit； you will echo the scream of every delirious wretch that
harbors near you； then you will pause； clasp your hands on your
throbbing head； and listen with horrible anxiety whether the scream
proceeded from YOU or THEM。 The time will come； when； from the
want of occupation； the listless and horrible vacancy of your
hours； you will feel as anxious to hear those shrieks； as you were
at first terrified to hear them；when you will watch for the
ravings of your next neighbor； as you would for a scene on the
stage。 All humanity will be extinguished in you。 The ravings of
these wretches will become at once your sport and your torture。
You will watch for the sounds； to mock them with the grimaces and
bellowings of a fiend。 The mind has a power of accommodating
itself to its situation； that you will experience in its most
frightful and deplorable efficacy。 Then comes the dreadful doubt
of one's own sanity； the terrible announcer that THAT doubt will
soon become fear； and THAT fear certainty。 Perhaps （still more
dreadful） the FEAR will at last become a HOPE；shut out from
society； watched by a brutal keeper； writhing with all the impotent
agony of an incarcerated mind； without communication and without
sympathy； unable to exchange ideas but with those whose ideas are
only the hideous specters of departed intellect； or even to hear
the welcome sound of the human voice； except to mistake it for the
howl of a fiend； and stop the ear desecrated by its intrusion；
then at last your fear will become a more fearful hope； you will
wish to become one of them； to escape the agony of consciousness。
As those who have long leaned over a precipice； have at last felt a
desire to plunge below； to relieve the intolerable temptation of
their giddiness；* you will hear them laugh amid their wildest
paroxysms； you will say； 'Doubtless those wretches have some
consolation； but I have none； my sanity is my greatest curse in
this abode of horrors。 They greedily devour their miserable meals；
while I loathe mine。 They sleep sometimes soundly； while my sleep
isworse than their waking。 They are revived every morning by
some delicious illusion of cunning madness； soothing them with the
hope of escaping； baffling or tormenting their keeper； my sanity
precludes all such hope。 I KNOW I NEVER CAN ESCAPE； and the
preservation of my faculties is only an aggravation of my
sufferings。 I have all their miseries；I have none of their
consolations。 They laugh；I hear them； would I could laugh like
them。' You will try； and the very effort will be an invocation to
the demon of insanity to come and take full possession of you from
that moment forever。〃
* A fact； related to me by a person who was near committing suicide
in a similar situation； to escape what he called 〃the excruciating
torture of giddiness。〃
（There were other details； both of the menaces and temptations
employed by Melmoth； which are too horrible for insertion。 One of
them may serve for an instance。）
〃You think that the intellectual power is something distinct from
the vitality of the soul； or； in other words； that if even your
reason should be destroyed （which it nearly is）； your soul might
yet enjoy beatitude in the full exercise of its enlarged and
exalted faculties； and all the clouds which obscured them be
dispelled by the Sun of Righteousness； in whose beams you hope to
bask forever and ever。 Now； without going into any metaphysical
subtleties about the distinction between mind and soul； experience
must teach you； that there can be no crime into which madmen would
not； and do not； precipitate themselves； mischief is their
occupation； malice their habit； murder their sport； and blasphemy
their delight。 Whether a soul in this state can be in a hopeful
one； it is for you to judge； but it seems to me； that with the loss
of reason （and reason cannot long be retained in this place） you
lose also the hope of immortality。Listen；〃 said the tempter；
pausing； 〃listen to the wretch who is raving near you； and whose
blasphemies might make a demon start。He was once an eminent
puritanical preacher。 Half the day he imagines himself in a
pulpit； denouncing damnation against Papists； Arminians； and even
Sub