Chapter VI
How Mr. Jennings met his companion
The faint glow of the
west, the pomp of the then-lonely woods of Richmond, were before us, behind and about us
the darkening room, and on the stony face of the sufferer -- for the character of his
face, though still gentle and sweet, was changed -- rested that dim, odd glow which seems
to descend and produce, where it touches, lights, sudden though faint, which are lost
almost without gradation in darkness. The silence too was utter: not a distant wheel or
bark or whistle from without, and within the depressing stillness of an invalid bachelor's
house.
I guessed well the
nature, though not even vaguely the particulars of the revelations I was about to receive,
from that fixed face of suffering that so oddly flushed stood out like a portrait of
Shalken's before its background of darkness.
"It began,"
he said, "on the 15th of October, three years and eleven weeks ago, and two days -- I
keep very accurate count, for every day is torment. If I leave anywhere a chasm in my
narrative tell me.
"About four years
ago I began a work which had cost me very much thought and reading, It was upon the
religious metaphysics of the ancients."
"I know,"
said I, "the actual religion of educated and thinking paganism, quite apart from
symbolic worship? A wide and very interesting field."
"Yes, but not good
for the mind -- the Christian mind, I mean. Paganism is all bound together in essential
unity, and with evil sympathy their religion involves their art, and both their manners,
and the subject is a degrading fascination and the nemesis sure. G-d forgive me!
"I wrote a great
deal; I wrote late at night. I was always thinking on the subject, walking about, wherever
I was, everywhere. It thoroughly infected me. You are to remember that all the material
ideas connected with it were more or less of the beautiful, the subject itself
delightfully interesting, and I, then, without a care."
He sighed heavily.
"I believe that
everyone who sets about writing in earnest does his work, as a friend of mine phrased it, on
something -- tea, or coffee, or tobacco. I suppose there is a material waste that must be
hourly supplied in such occupations, or that we should grow too abstracted and the mind,
as it were, pass out of the body, unless it were reminded often enough of the connection
by actual sensation. At all events, I felt the want, and I supplied it. Tea was my
companion -- at first the ordinary black tea, made in the usual way, not too strong; but I
drank a good deal, and increased its strength as I went on. I never experienced an
uncomfortable symptom from it. I began to take a little green tea. I found the effect
pleasanter, it cleared and intensified the power of thought so, I had come to take it
frequently, but not stronger than one might take it for pleasure. I wrote a great deal out
here, it was so quiet, and in this room. I used to sit up very late, and it became a habit
with me to sip my tea -- green tea -- every now and then as my work proceeded. I had a
little kettle on my tale that swung over a lamp, and made tea two or three times between
eleven o'clock and two or three in the morning, my hours of going to bed. I used to go
into town every day. I was not a monk, and, although I spent an hour or two in a library
hunting up authorities and looking out lights upon my theme, I was in no morbid state as
far as I can judge. I met my friends pretty much as usual and enjoyed their society, and,
on the whole, existence had never been, I think, so pleasant before.
"I had met with a
man who had some odd old books, German editions in mediæval Latin, and I was only too
happy to be permitted access to them. This obliging person's books were in the City, a
very out-of-the-way part of it. I had rather out-stayed my intended hour, and, on coming
out, seeing no cab near, I was tempted to get into the omnibus which used to drive past
this house. It was darker than this by the time the 'bus had reached an old house, you may
have remarked, with four poplars at each side of the door, and there the last passenger
but myself got out. We drove along rather faster. It was twilight now. I leaned back in my
corner next the door ruminating pleasantly.
"The interior of
the omnibus was nearly dark. I had observed in the corner opposite to me at the other
side, and at the end next the horses, two small circular reflections, as it seemed to me
of a reddish light. They were about two inches apart, and about the size of those small
brass buttons that yachting men used to put upon their jackets. I began to speculate, as
listless men will, upon this trifle, as it seemed. From what centre did that faint but
deep red light come, and from what -- glass beads, buttons, toy decorations -- was it
reflected? We were lumbering along gently, having nearly a mile still to go. I had not
solved the puzzle, and it became in another minute more odd, for these two luminous
points, with a sudden jerk, descended nearer and nearer the floor, keeping still their
relative distance and horizontal position, and then, as suddenly, they rose to the level
of the seat on which I was sitting and I saw them no more.
"My curiosity was
no really excited, and, before I had time to think, I saw again these two dull lamps,
again together near the floor. gain they disappeared, and again in their old corner I saw
them.
"So, keeping my
eyes upon them, I edged quietly up my own side, towards the end at which I still saw these
tiny discs of red.
"There was very
little light in the 'bus. It was nearly dark. I leaned forward to aid my endeavour to
discover what these little circles really were. They shifted position a little as I did
so. I began now to perceive an outline of something black, and I soon saw, with tolerable
distinctness, the outline of a small black monkey, pushing its face forward in mimicry to
meet mine. Those were its eyes, and I now dimly saw its teeth grinning at me.
"I drew back, not
knowing whether it might no meditate a spring. I fancied that one of the passengers had
forgot this ugly pet, and wishing to ascertain something of its temper, though not caring
to trust my fingers to it, I poked my umbrella softly towards it. It remained immovable --
up to it -- through it. For through it, and back and forward it passed, without
the slightest resistance.
"I can't, in the
least, convey to you the kind of horror that I felt. When I had ascertained that the thing
was an illusion, as I then supposed, there came a misgiving about myself and a terror that
fascinated me in impotence to remove my gaze from the eyes of the brute for some moments.
As I looked, it made a little skip back, quite into the corner, and I, in a panic, found
myself at the door, having put my head out, drawing deep breaths of the outer air, and
staring at the lights and trees we were passing, too glad to reassure myself of reality.
"I stopped the
'bus and got out. I perceived the man look oddly at me as I paid him. I dare say there was
something unusual in my looks and manner, for I had never felt so strangely before."
Chapter VII
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 stopping 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 askance 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 the 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 everyone 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 was 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 G-d's help, I shall be all right, and this is but a
symptom of nervous dyspepsia.' Did I believe 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, and I was afraid of anyone's seeing and recognizing 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 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 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 look 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 now 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 G-d and praying. A whole month passed of liberty, but on a
sudden, it was with me again.
