APDL Eductation Resources/APDL Eductation Resources.iso/text/authors/poe/raggedmnt/RAGGEDMNT

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                         1850

             A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS

                  by Edgar Allan Poe


DURING the fall of the year 1827, while residing near Charlottesville,
Virginia, I casually made the acquaintance of Mr. Augustus Bedloe. This
young gentleman was remarkable in every respect, and excited in me a
profound interest and curiosity. I found it impossible to comprehend him
either in his moral or his physical relations. Of his family I could
obtain no satisfactory account. Whence he came, I never ascertained.
Even about his age- although I call him a young gentleman- there was
something which perplexed me in no little degree. He certainly seemed
young- and he made a point of speaking about his youth- yet there were
moments when I should have had little trouble in imagining him a hundred
years of age. But in no regard was he more peculiar than in his personal
appearance. He was singularly tall and thin. He stooped much. His limbs
were exceedingly long and emaciated. His forehead was broad and low. His
complexion was absolutely bloodless. His mouth was large and flexible,
and his teeth were more wildly uneven, although sound, than I had ever
before seen teeth in a human head. The expression of his smile, however,
was by no means unpleasing, as might be supposed; but it had no
variation whatever. It was one of profound melancholy- of a phaseless
and unceasing gloom. His eyes were abnormally large, and round like
those of a cat. The pupils, too, upon any accession or diminution of
light, underwent contraction or dilation, just such as is observed in
the feline tribe. In moments of excitement the orbs grew bright to a
degree almost inconceivable; seeming to emit luminous rays, not of a
reflected but of an intrinsic lustre, as does a candle or the sun; yet
their ordinary condition was so totally vapid, filmy, and dull as to
convey the idea of the eyes of a long-interred corpse.

These peculiarities of person appeared to cause him much annoyance, and
he was continually alluding to them in a sort of half explanatory, half
apologetic strain, which, when I first heard it, impressed me very
painfully. I soon, however, grew accustomed to it, and my uneasiness
wore off. It seemed to be his design rather to insinuate than directly
to assert that, physically, he had not always been what he was- that a
long series of neuralgic attacks had reduced him from a condition of
more than usual personal beauty, to that which I saw. For many years
past he had been attended by a physician, named Templeton- an old
gentleman, perhaps seventy years of age- whom he had first encountered
at Saratoga, and from whose attention, while there, he either received,
or fancied that he received, great benefit. The result was that Bedloe,
who was wealthy, had made an arrangement with Dr. Templeton, by which
the latter, in consideration of a liberal annual allowance, had
consented to devote his time and medical experience exclusively to the
care of the invalid.

Doctor Templeton had been a traveller in his younger days, and at Paris
had become a convert, in great measure, to the doctrines of Mesmer. It
was altogether by means of magnetic remedies that he had succeeded in
alleviating the acute pains of his patient; and this success had very
naturally inspired the latter with a certain degree of confidence in the
opinions from which the remedies had been educed. The Doctor, however,
like all enthusiasts, had struggled hard to make a thorough convert of
his pupil, and finally so far gained his point as to induce the sufferer
to submit to numerous experiments. By a frequent repetition of these, a
result had arisen, which of late days has become so common as to attract
little or no attention, but which, at the period of which I write, had
very rarely been known in America. I mean to say, that between Doctor
Templeton and Bedloe there had grown up, little by little, a very
distinct and strongly marked rapport, or magnetic relation. I am not
prepared to assert, however, that this rapport extended beyond the
limits of the simple sleep-producing power, but this power itself had
attained great intensity. At the first attempt to induce the magnetic
somnolency, the mesmerist entirely failed. In the fifth or sixth he
succeeded very partially, and after long continued effort. Only at the
twelfth was the triumph complete. After this the will of the patient
succumbed rapidly to that of the physician, so that, when I first became
acquainted with the two, sleep was brought about almost instantaneously
by the mere volition of the operator, even when the invalid was unaware
of his presence. It is only now, in the year 1845, when similar miracles
are witnessed daily by thousands, that I dare venture to record this
apparent impossibility as a matter of serious fact.

The temperature of Bedloe was, in the highest degree sensitive,
excitable, enthusiastic. His imagination was singularly vigorous and
creative; and no doubt it derived additional force from the habitual use
of morphine, which he swallowed in great quantity, and without which he
would have found it impossible to exist. It was his practice to take a
very large dose of it immediately after breakfast each morning- or,
rather, immediately after a cup of strong coffee, for he ate nothing in
the forenoon- and then set forth alone, or attended only by a dog, upon
a long ramble among the chain of wild and dreary hills that lie westward
and southward of Charlottesville, and are there dignified by the title
of the Ragged Mountains.

Upon a dim, warm, misty day, toward the close of November, and during
the strange interregnum of the seasons which in America is termed the
Indian Summer, Mr. Bedloe departed as usual for the hills. The day
passed, and still he did not return.

About eight o'clock at night, having become seriously alarmed at his
protracted absence, we were about setting out in search of him, when he
unexpectedly made his appearance, in health no worse than usual, and in
rather more than ordinary spirits. The account which he gave of his
expedition, and of the events which had detained him, was a singular one
indeed.

"You will remember," said he, "that it was about nine in the morning
when I left Charlottesville. I bent my steps immediately to the
mountains, and, about ten, entered a gorge which was entirely new to me.
I followed the windings of this pass with much interest. The scenery
which presented itself on all sides, although scarcely entitled to be
called grand, had about it an indescribable and to me a delicious aspect
of dreary desolation. The solitude seemed absolutely virgin. I could not
help believing that the green sods and the gray rocks upon which I trod
had been trodden never before by the foot of a human being. So entirely
secluded, and in fact inaccessible, except through a series of
accidents, is the entrance of the ravine, that it is by no means
impossible that I was indeed the first adventurer- the very first and
sole adventurer who had ever penetrated its recesses.

"The thick and peculiar mist, or smoke, which distinguishes the Indian
Summer, and which now hung heavily over all objects, served, no doubt,
to deepen the vague impressions which these objects created. So dense
was this pleasant fog that I could at no time see more than a dozen
yards of the path before me. This path was excessively sinuous, and as
the sun could not be seen, I soon lost all idea of the direction in
which I journeyed. In the meantime the morphine had its customary
effect- that of enduing all the external world with an intensity of
interest. In the quivering of a leaf- in the hue of a blade of grass- in
the shape of a trefoil- in the humming of a bee- in the gleaming of a
dew-drop- in the breathing of the wind- in the faint odors that came
from the forest- there came a whole universe of suggestion- a gay and
motley train of rhapsodical and immethodical thought.

"Busied in this, I walked on for several hours, during which the mist
deepened around me to so great an extent that at length I was reduced to
an absolute groping of the way. And now an indescribable uneasiness
possessed me- a species of nervous hesitation and tremor. I feared to
tread, lest I should be precipitated into some abyss. I remembered, too,
strange stories told about these Ragged Hills, and of the uncouth and
fierce races of men who tenanted their groves and caverns. A thousand
vague fancies oppressed and disconcerted me- fancies the more
distressing because vague. Very suddenly my attention was arrested by
the loud beating of a drum.

"My amazement was, of course, extreme. A drum in these hills was a thing
unknown. I could not have been more surprised at the sound of the trump
of the Archangel. But a new and still more astounding source of interest
and perplexity arose. There came a wild rattling or jingling sound, as
if of a bunch of large keys, and upon the instant a dusky-visaged and
half-naked man rushed past me with a shriek. He came so close to my
person that I felt his hot breath upon my face. He bore in one hand an
instrument composed of an assemblage of steel rings, and shook them
vigorously as he ran. Scarcely had he disappeared in the mist before,
panting after him, with open mouth and glaring eyes, there darted a huge
beast. I could not be mistaken in its character. It was a hyena.

"The sight of this monster rather relieved than heightened my terrors-
for I now made sure that I dreamed, and endeavored to arouse myself to
waking consciousness. I stepped boldly and briskly forward. I rubbed my
eyes. I called aloud. I pinched my limbs. A small spring of water
presented itself to my view, and here, stooping, I bathed my hands and
my head and neck. This seemed to dissipate the equivocal sensations
which had hitherto annoyed me. I arose, as I thought, a new man, and
proceeded steadily and complacently on my unknown way.

"At length, quite overcome by exertion, and by a certain oppressive
closeness of the atmosphere, I seated myself beneath a tree. Presently
there came a feeble gleam of sunshine, and the shadow of the leaves of
the tree fell faintly but definitely upon the grass. At this shadow I
gazed wonderingly for many minutes. Its character stupefied me with
astonishment. I looked upward. The tree was a palm.

"I now arose hurriedly, and in a state of fearful agitation- for the
fancy that I dreamed would serve me no longer. I saw- I felt that I had
perfect command of my senses- and these senses now brought to my soul a
world of novel and singular sensation. The heat became all at once
intolerable. A strange odor loaded the breeze. A low, continuous murmur,
like that arising from a full, but gently flowing river, came to my
ears, intermingled with the peculiar hum of multitudinous human voices.

"While I listened in an extremity of astonishment which I need not
attempt to describe, a strong and brief gust of wind bore off the
incumbent fog as if by the wand of an enchanter.

"I found myself at the foot of a high mountain, and looking down into a
vast plain, through which wound a majestic river. On the margin of this
river stood an Eastern-looking city, such as we read of in the Arabian
Tales, but of a character even more singular than any there described.
From my position, which was far above the level of the town, I could
perceive its every nook and corner, as if delineated on a map. The
streets seemed innumerable, and crossed each other irregularly in all
directions, but were rather long winding alleys than streets, and
absolutely swarmed with inhabitants. The houses were wildly picturesque.
On every hand was a wilderness of balconies, of verandas, of minarets,
of shrines, and fantastically carved oriels. Bazaars abounded; and in
these were displayed rich wares in infinite variety and profusion-
silks, muslins, the most dazzling cutlery, the most magnificent jewels
and gems. Besides these things, were seen, on all sides, banners and
palanquins, litters with stately dames close veiled, elephants
gorgeously caparisoned, idols grotesquely hewn, drums, banners, and
gongs, spears, silver and gilded maces. And amid the crowd, and the
clamor, and the general intricacy and confusion- amid the million of
black and yellow men, turbaned and robed, and of flowing beard, there
roamed a countless multitude of holy filleted bulls, while vast legions
of the filthy but sacred ape clambered, chattering and shrieking, about
the cornices of the mosques, or clung to the minarets and oriels. From
the swarming streets to the banks of the river, there descended
innumerable flights of steps leading to bathing places, while the river
itself seemed to force a passage with difficulty through the vast fleets
of deeply- burthened ships that far and wide encountered its surface.
Beyond the limits of the city arose, in frequent majestic groups, the
palm and the cocoa, with other gigantic and weird trees of vast age, and
here and there might be seen a field of rice, the thatched hut of a
peasant, a tank, a stray temple, a gypsy camp, or a solitary graceful
maiden taking her way, with a pitcher upon her head, to the banks of the
magnificent river.

"You will say now, of course, that I dreamed; but not so. What I saw-
what I heard- what I felt- what I thought- had about it nothing of the
unmistakable idiosyncrasy of the dream. All was rigorously
self-consistent. At first, doubting that I was really awake, I entered
into a series of tests, which soon convinced me that I really was. Now,
when one dreams, and, in the dream, suspects that he dreams, the
suspicion never fails to confirm itself, and the sleeper is almost
immediately aroused. Thus Novalis errs not in saying that 'we are near
waking when we dream that we dream.' Had the vision occurred to me as I
describe it, without my suspecting it as a dream, then a dream it might
absolutely have been, but, occurring as it did, and suspected and tested
as it was, I am forced to class it among other phenomena."

"In this I am not sure that you are wrong," observed Dr. Templeton, "but
proceed. You arose and descended into the city."

"I arose," continued Bedloe, regarding the Doctor with an air of
profound astonishment "I arose, as you say, and descended into the city.
On my way I fell in with an immense populace, crowding through every
avenue, all in the same direction, and exhibiting in every action the
wildest excitement. Very suddenly, and by some inconceivable impulse, I
became intensely imbued with personal interest in what was going on. I
seemed to feel that I had an important part to play, without exactly
understanding what it was. Against the crowd which environed me,
however, I experienced a deep sentiment of animosity. I shrank from amid
them, and, swiftly, by a circuitous path, reached and entered the city.
Here all was the wildest tumult and contention. A small party of men,
clad in garments half-Indian, half-European, and officered by gentlemen
in a uniform partly British, were engaged, at great odds, with the
swarming rabble of the alleys. I joined the weaker party, arming myself
with the weapons of a fallen officer, and fighting I knew not whom with
the nervous ferocity of despair. We were soon overpowered by numbers,
and driven to seek refuge in a species of kiosk. Here we barricaded
ourselves, and, for the present were secure. From a loop-hole near the
summit of the kiosk, I perceived a vast crowd, in furious agitation,
surrounding and assaulting a gay palace that overhung the river.
Presently, from an upper window of this place, there descended an
effeminate-looking person, by means of a string made of the turbans of
his attendants. A boat was at hand, in which he escaped to the opposite
bank of the river.

"And now a new object took possession of my soul. I spoke a few hurried
but energetic words to my companions, and, having succeeded in gaining
over a few of them to my purpose made a frantic sally from the kiosk. We
rushed amid the crowd that surrounded it. They retreated, at first,
before us. They rallied, fought madly, and retreated again. In the mean
time we were borne far from the kiosk, and became bewildered and
entangled among the narrow streets of tall, overhanging houses, into the
recesses of which the sun had never been able to shine. The rabble
pressed impetuously upon us, harrassing us with their spears, and
overwhelming us with flights of arrows. These latter were very
remarkable, and resembled in some respects the writhing creese of the
Malay. They were made to imitate the body of a creeping serpent, and
were long and black, with a poisoned barb. One of them struck me upon
the right temple. I reeled and fell. An instantaneous and dreadful
sickness seized me. I struggled- I gasped- I died."
 "You will hardly persist now," said I smiling, "that the whole of your
adventure was not a dream. You are not prepared to maintain that you are
dead?"

When I said these words, I of course expected some lively sally from
Bedloe in reply, but, to my astonishment, he hesitated, trembled, became
fearfully pallid, and remained silent. I looked toward Templeton. He sat
erect and rigid in his chair- his teeth chattered, and his eyes were
starting from their sockets. "Proceed!" he at length said hoarsely to
Bedloe.

"For many minutes," continued the latter, "my sole sentiment- my sole
feeling- was that of darkness and nonentity, with the consciousness of
death. At length there seemed to pass a violent and sudden shock through
my soul, as if of electricity. With it came the sense of elasticity and
of light. This latter I felt- not saw. In an instant I seemed to rise
from the ground. But I had no bodily, no visible, audible, or palpable
presence. The crowd had departed. The tumult had ceased. The city was in
comparative repose. Beneath me lay my corpse, with the arrow in my
temple, the whole head greatly swollen and disfigured. But all these
things I felt- not saw. I took interest in nothing. Even the corpse
seemed a matter in which I had no concern. Volition I had none, but
appeared to be impelled into motion, and flitted buoyantly out of the
city, retracing the circuitous path by which I had entered it. When I
had attained that point of the ravine in the mountains at which I had
encountered the hyena, I again experienced a shock as of a galvanic
battery, the sense of weight, of volition, of substance, returned. I
became my original self, and bent my steps eagerly homeward- but the
past had not lost the vividness of the real- and not now, even for an
instant, can I compel my understanding to regard it as a dream."

"Nor was it," said Templeton, with an air of deep solemnity, "yet it
would be difficult to say how otherwise it should be termed. Let us
suppose only, that the soul of the man of to-day is upon the verge of
some stupendous psychal discoveries. Let us content ourselves with this
supposition. For the rest I have some explanation to make. Here is a
watercolor drawing, which I should have shown you before, but which an
unaccountable sentiment of horror has hitherto prevented me from
showing."

We looked at the picture which he presented. I saw nothing in it of an
extraordinary character, but its effect upon Bedloe was prodigious. He
nearly fainted as he gazed. And yet it was but a miniature portrait- a
miraculously accurate one, to be sure- of his own very remarkable
features. At least this was my thought as I regarded it.

"You will perceive," said Templeton, "the date of this picture- it is
here, scarcely visible, in this corner- 1780. In this year was the
portrait taken. It is the likeness of a dead friend- a Mr. Oldeb- to
whom I became much attached at Calcutta, during the administration of
Warren Hastings. I was then only twenty years old. When I first saw you,
Mr. Bedloe, at Saratoga, it was the miraculous similarity which existed
between yourself and the painting which induced me to accost you, to
seek your friendship, and to bring about those arrangements which
resulted in my becoming your constant companion. In accomplishing this
point, I was urged partly, and perhaps principally, by a regretful
memory of the deceased, but also, in part, by an uneasy, and not
altogether horrorless curiosity respecting yourself.

"In your detail of the vision which presented itself to you amid the
hills, you have described, with the minutest accuracy, the Indian city
of Benares, upon the Holy River. The riots, the combat, the massacre,
were the actual events of the insurrection of Cheyte Sing, which took
place in 1780, when Hastings was put in imminent peril of his life. The
man escaping by the string of turbans was Cheyte Sing himself. The party
in the kiosk were sepoys and British officers, headed by Hastings. Of
this party I was one, and did all I could to prevent the rash and fatal
sally of the officer who fell, in the crowded alleys, by the poisoned
arrow of a Bengalee. That officer was my dearest friend. It was Oldeb.
You will perceive by these manuscripts," (here the speaker produced a
note-book in which several pages appeared to have been freshly written,)
"that at the very period in which you fancied these things amid the
hills, I was engaged in detailing them upon paper here at home."

In about a week after this conversation, the following paragraphs
appeared in a Charlottesville paper:

"We have the painful duty of announcing the death of Mr. Augustus Bedlo,
a gentleman whose amiable manners and many virtues have long endeared
him to the citizens of Charlottesville.

"Mr. B., for some years past, has been subject to neuralgia, which has
often threatened to terminate fatally; but this can be regarded only as
the mediate cause of his decease. The proximate cause was one of
especial singularity. In an excursion to the Ragged Mountains, a few
days since, a slight cold and fever were contracted, attended with great
determination of blood to the head. To relieve this, Dr. Templeton
resorted to topical bleeding. Leeches were applied to the temples. In a
fearfully brief period the patient died, when it appeared that in the
jar containing the leeches, had been introduced, by accident, one of the
venomous vermicular sangsues which are now and then found in the
neighboring ponds. This creature fastened itself upon a small artery in
the right temple. Its close resemblance to the medicinal leech caused
the mistake to be overlooked until too late.

"N. B. The poisonous sangsue of Charlottesville may always be
distinguished from the medicinal leech by its blackness, and especially
by its writhing or vermicular motions, which very nearly resemble those
of a snake."

I was speaking with the editor of the paper in question, upon the topic
of this remarkable accident, when it occurred to me to ask how it
happened that the name of the deceased had been given as Bedlo.

"I presume," I said, "you have authority for this spelling, but I have
always supposed the name to be written with an e at the end."

"Authority?- no," he replied. "It is a mere typographical error. The
name is Bedlo with an e, all the world over, and I never knew it to be
spelt otherwise in my life."

"Then," said I mutteringly, as I turned upon my heel, "then indeed has
it come to pass that one truth is stranger than any fiction- for Bedloe,
without the e, what is it but Oldeb conversed! And this man tells me
that it is a typographical error."



                           THE END