by Edgar Allan Poe
(1850)
Sub conservatione formae specificae salva anima.RAYMOND LULLY.
I AM come of a race noted for vigor of fancy
and ardor of passion. Men have called me mad; but the question
is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest
intelligence- whether much that is glorious- whether all that
is profound- does not spring from disease of thought- from
moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape
those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they
obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find
that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In
snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good,
and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They
penetrate, however, rudderless or compassless into the vast
ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures
of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid
in eo esset exploraturi."
We will say, then, that I am mad. I grant, at
least, that there are two distinct conditions of my mental
existence- the condition of a lucid reason, not to be disputed,
and belonging to the memory of events forming the first epoch
of my life- and a condition of shadow and doubt, appertaining
to the present, and to the recollection of what constitutes the
second great era of my being. Therefore, what I shall tell of
the earlier period, believe; and to what I may relate of the
later time, give only such credit as may seem due, or doubt it
altogether, or, if doubt it ye cannot, then play unto its
riddle the Oedipus.
She whom I loved in youth, and of whom I now pen
calmly and distinctly these remembrances, was the sole daughter
of the only sister of my mother long departed. Eleonora was the
name of my cousin. We had always dwelled together, beneath a
tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. No
unguided footstep ever came upon that vale; for it lay away up
among a range of giant hills that hung beetling around about
it, shutting out the sunlight from its sweetest recesses. No
path was trodden in its vicinity; and, to reach our happy home,
there was need of putting back, with force, the foliage of many
thousands of forest trees, and of crushing to death the glories
of many millions of fragrant flowers. Thus it was that we lived
all alone, knowing nothing of the world without the valley- I,
and my cousin, and her mother.
From the dim regions beyond the mountains at the
upper end of our encircled domain, there crept out a narrow and
deep river, brighter than all save the eyes of Eleonora; and,
winding stealthily about in mazy courses, it passed away, at
length, through a shadowy gorge, among hills still dimmer than
those whence it had issued. We called it the "River of
Silence"; for there seemed to be a hushing influence in its
flow. No murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered
along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to gaze, far
down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a
motionless content, each in its own old station, shining on
gloriously forever.
The margin of the river, and of the many dazzling
rivulets that glided through devious ways into its channel, as
well as the spaces that extended from the margins away down
into the depths of the streams until they reached the bed of
pebbles at the bottom,- these spots, not less than the whole
surface of the valley, from the river to the mountains that
girdled it in, were carpeted all by a soft green grass, thick,
short, perfectly even, and vanilla-perfumed, but so besprinkled
throughout with the yellow buttercup, the white daisy, the
purple violet, and the ruby-red asphodel, that its exceeding
beauty spoke to our hearts in loud tones, of the love and of
the glory of God.
And, here and there, in groves about this grass,
like wildernesses of dreams, sprang up fantastic trees, whose
tall slender stems stood not upright, but slanted gracefully
toward the light that peered at noon-day into the centre of the
valley. Their mark was speckled with the vivid alternate
splendor of ebony and silver, and was smoother than all save
the cheeks of Eleonora; so that, but for the brilliant green of
the huge leaves that spread from their summits in long,
tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs, one might have
fancied them giant serpents of Syria doing homage to their
sovereign the Sun.
Hand in hand about this valley, for fifteen years,
roamed I with Eleonora before Love entered within our hearts.
It was one evening at the close of the third lustrum of her
life, and of the fourth of my own, that we sat, locked in each
other's embrace, beneath the serpent-like trees, and looked
down within the water of the River of Silence at our images
therein. We spoke no words during the rest of that sweet day,
and our words even upon the morrow were tremulous and few. We
had drawn the God Eros from that wave, and now we felt that he
had enkindled within us the fiery souls of our forefathers. The
passions which had for centuries distinguished our race, came
thronging with the fancies for which they had been equally
noted, and together breathed a delirious bliss over the Valley
of the Many-Colored Grass. A change fell upon all things.
Strange, brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burn out upon the
trees where no flowers had been known before. The tints of the
green carpet deepened; and when, one by one, the white daisies
shrank away, there sprang up in place of them, ten by ten of
the ruby-red asphodel. And life arose in our paths; for the
tall flamingo, hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds,
flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The golden and silver
fish haunted the river, out of the bosom of which issued,
little by little, a murmur that swelled, at length, into a
lulling melody more divine than that of the harp of
Aeolus-sweeter than all save the voice of Eleonora. And now,
too, a voluminous cloud, which we had long watched in the
regions of Hesper, floated out thence, all gorgeous in crimson
and gold, and settling in peace above us, sank, day by day,
lower and lower, until its edges rested upon the tops of the
mountains, turning all their dimness into magnificence, and
shutting us up, as if forever, within a magic prison-house of
grandeur and of glory.
The loveliness of Eleonora was that of the
Seraphim; but she was a maiden artless and innocent as the
brief life she had led among the flowers. No guile disguised
the fervor of love which animated her heart, and she examined
with me its inmost recesses as we walked together in the Valley
of the Many-Colored Grass, and discoursed of the mighty changes
which had lately taken place therein.
At length, having spoken one day, in tears, of the
last sad change which must befall Humanity, she thenceforward
dwelt only upon this one sorrowful theme, interweaving it into
all our converse, as, in the songs of the bard of Schiraz, the
same images are found occurring, again and again, in every
impressive variation of phrase.
She had seen that the finger of Death was upon her
bosom- that, like the ephemeron, she had been made perfect in
loveliness only to die; but the terrors of the grave to her lay
solely in a consideration which she revealed to me, one evening
at twilight, by the banks of the River of Silence. She grieved
to think that, having entombed her in the Valley of the
Many-Colored Grass, I would quit forever its happy recesses,
transferring the love which now was so passionately her own to
some maiden of the outer and everyday world. And, then and
there, I threw myself hurriedly at the feet of Eleonora, and
offered up a vow, to herself and to Heaven, that I would never
bind myself in marriage to any daughter of Earth- that I would
in no manner prove recreant to her dear memory, or to the
memory of the devout affection with which she had blessed me.
And I called the Mighty Ruler of the Universe to witness the
pious solemnity of my vow. And the curse which I invoked of Him
and of her, a saint in Helusion should I prove traitorous to
that promise, involved a penalty the exceeding great horror of
which will not permit me to make record of it here. And the
bright eyes of Eleonora grew brighter at my words; and she
sighed as if a deadly burthen had been taken from her breast;
and she trembled and very bitterly wept; but she made
acceptance of the vow, (for what was she but a child?) and it
made easy to her the bed of her death. And she said to me, not
many days afterward, tranquilly dying, that, because of what I
had done for the comfort of her spirit she would watch over me
in that spirit when departed, and, if so it were permitted her
return to me visibly in the watches of the night; but, if this
thing were, indeed, beyond the power of the souls in Paradise,
that she would, at least, give me frequent indications of her
presence, sighing upon me in the evening winds, or filling the
air which I breathed with perfume from the censers of the
angels. And, with these words upon her lips, she yielded up her
innocent life, putting an end to the first epoch of my own.
Thus far I have faithfully said. But as I pass the
barrier in Times path, formed by the death of my beloved, and
proceed with the second era of my existence, I feel that a
shadow gathers over my brain, and I mistrust the perfect sanity
of the record. But let me on.- Years dragged themselves along
heavily, and still I dwelled within the Valley of the
Many-Colored Grass; but a second change had come upon all
things. The star-shaped flowers shrank into the stems of the
trees, and appeared no more. The tints of the green carpet
faded; and, one by one, the ruby-red asphodels withered away;
and there sprang up, in place of them, ten by ten, dark,
eye-like violets, that writhed uneasily and were ever
encumbered with dew. And Life departed from our paths; for the
tall flamingo flaunted no longer his scarlet plumage before us,
but flew sadly from the vale into the hills, with all the gay
glowing birds that had arrived in his company. And the golden
and silver fish swam down through the gorge at the lower end of
our domain and bedecked the sweet river never again. And the
lulling melody that had been softer than the wind-harp of
Aeolus, and more divine than all save the voice of Eleonora, it
died little by little away, in murmurs growing lower and lower,
until the stream returned, at length, utterly, into the
solemnity of its original silence. And then, lastly, the
voluminous cloud uprose, and, abandoning the tops of the
mountains to the dimness of old, fell back into the regions of
Hesper, and took away all its manifold golden and gorgeous
glories from the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass.
Yet the promises of Eleonora were not forgotten;
for I heard the sounds of the swinging of the censers of the
angels; and streams of a holy perfume floated ever and ever
about the valley; and at lone hours, when my heart beat
heavily, the winds that bathed my brow came unto me laden with
soft sighs; and indistinct murmurs filled often the night air,
and once- oh, but once only! I was awakened from a slumber,
like the slumber of death, by the pressing of spiritual lips
upon my own.
But the void within my heart refused, even thus,
to be filled. I longed for the love which had before filled it
to overflowing. At length the valley pained me through its
memories of Eleonora, and I left it for ever for the vanities
and the turbulent triumphs of the world.
I found myself within a strange city, where all
things might have served to blot from recollection the sweet
dreams I had dreamed so long in the Valley of the Many-Colored
Grass. The pomps and pageantries of a stately court, and the
mad clangor of arms, and the radiant loveliness of women,
bewildered and intoxicated my brain. But as yet my soul had
proved true to its vows, and the indications of the presence of
Eleonora were still given me in the silent hours of the night.
Suddenly these manifestations they ceased, and the world grew
dark before mine eyes, and I stood aghast at the burning
thoughts which possessed, at the terrible temptations which
beset me; for there came from some far, far distant and unknown
land, into the gay court of the king I served, a maiden to
whose beauty my whole recreant heart yielded at once- at whose
footstool I bowed down without a struggle, in the most ardent,
in the most abject worship of love. What, indeed, was my
passion for the young girl of the valley in comparison with the
fervor, and the delirium, and the spirit-lifting ecstasy of
adoration with which I poured out my whole soul in tears at the
feet of the ethereal Ermengarde?- Oh, bright was the seraph
Ermengarde! and in that knowledge I had room for none other.-
Oh, divine was the angel Ermengarde! and as I looked down into
the depths of her memorial eyes, I thought only of them- and of
her.
I wedded;- nor dreaded the curse I had invoked;
and its bitterness was not visited upon me. And once- but once
again in the silence of the night; there came through my
lattice the soft sighs which had forsaken me; and they modelled
themselves into familiar and sweet voice, saying:
"Sleep in peace!- for the Spirit of Love reigneth
and ruleth, and, in taking to thy passionate heart her who is
Ermengarde, thou art absolved, for reasons which shall be made
known to thee in Heaven, of thy vows unto Eleonora."