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Elisha Cuthbert Gallery Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
of
a heavy chain and to roll and twine among the straw, transported
with such brave music. Hurrah for the madhouse! Oh, its
a rare place!
I remember days when I was afraid of being mad; when I used
to start from my sleep, and fall upon my knees, and pray to be
spared from the curse of my race; when I rushed from the sight of
merriment or happiness, to hide myself in some lonely place, and
spend the weary hours in watching the progress of the fever that
was to consume my brain. I knew that madness was mixed up
with my very blood, and the marrow of my bones! that one
generation had passed away without the pestilence appearing
among them, and that I was the first in whom it would revive. I
knew it must be so: that so it always had been, and so it ever
would be: and when I cowered in some obscure corner of a
crowded room, and saw men whisper, and point, and turn their
eyes towards me, I knew they were telling each other of the
doomed madman; and I slunk away again to mope in solitude.
I did this for years; long, long years they were. The nights here
are long sometimes--very long; but they are nothing to the
restless nights, and dreadful dreams I had at that time. It makes
me cold to remember them. Large dusky forms with sly and
jeering faces crouched in the corners of the room, and bent over
my bed at night, tempting me to madness. They told me in low
whispers, that the floor of the old house in which my father died,
was stained with his own blood, shed by his own hand in raging
madness. I drove my fingers into my ears, but they screamed into
my head till the room rang with it, that in one generation before
him the madness slumbered, but that his grandfather had lived
for years with his hands fettered to the ground, to prevent his
tearing himself to pieces. I knew they told the truth--I knew it
well. I had found it out years before, though they had tried to
keep it from me. Ha! ha! I was too cunning for them, madman
as they thought me.
At last it came upon me, and I wondered how I could ever
have feared it. I could go into the world now, and laugh and
shout with the best among them. I knew I was mad, but they did
not even suspect it. How I used to hug myself with delight, when
I thought of the fine trick I was playing them after their old
pointing and leering, when I was not mad, but only dreading that
I might one day become so! And how I used to laugh for joy,
when I was alone, and thought how well I kept my secret, and
how quickly my kind friends would have fallen from me, if they
had known the truth. I could have screamed with ecstasy when I
dined alone with some fine roaring fellow, to think how pale he
would have turned, and how fast he would have run, if he had
known that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharpening a
bright, glittering knife, was a madman with all the power, and
half the will, to plunge it in his heart. Oh, it was a merry life!
Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon me, and I rioted
in pleasures enhanced a thousandfold to me by the consciousness
of my well-kept secret. I inherited an estate. The law--the eagle-
eyed law itself--had been deceived, and had handed over disputed
thousands to a madmans hands. Where was the wit of the sharp-
sighted men of sound mind? Where the dexterity of the lawyers,
eager to discover a flaw? The madmans cunning had overreached
them all.
I had money. How I was courted! I spent it profusely. How I
was praised! How those three proud, overbearing brothers
humbled themselves before me! The old, white-headed father,
too--such deference--such respect--such devoted friendship--
he worshipped me! The old man had a daughter, and the young
men a sister; and all the five were poor. I was rich; and when I
married the girl, I saw a smile of triumph play upon the faces of
her needy relatives, as they thought The Pickwick Papers page 67 The Pickwick Papers page 69 |