A Tale of the Ragged Mountains
DURING the fall of the year 1827, while residing nearCharlottesville, Virginia, I casually made the acquaintance of Mr.Augustus Bedloe. This young gentleman was remarkable in everyrespect, and excited in me a profound interest and curiosity. I foundit impossible to comprehend him either in his moral or his physicalrelations. Of his family I could obtain no satisfactory account.Whence he came, I never ascertained. Even about his age -- although Icall him a young gentleman -- there was something which perplexed mein no little degree. He certainly seemed young -- and he made a pointof speaking about his youth -- yet there were moments when I shouldhave had little trouble in imagining him a hundred years of age. Butin no regard was he more peculiar than in his personal appearance. Hewas singularly tall and thin. He stooped much. His limbs wereexceedingly long and emaciated. His forehead was broad and low. Hiscomplexion was absolutely bloodless. His mouth was large andflexible, and his teeth were more wildly uneven, although sound, thanI had ever before seen teeth in a human head. The expression of hissmile, however, was by no means unpleasing, as might be supposed; butit had no variation whatever. It was one of profound melancholy -- ofa phaseless and unceasing gloom. His eyes were abnormally large, andround like those of a cat. The pupils, too, upon any accession ordiminution of light, underwent contraction or dilation, just such asis observed in the feline tribe. In moments of excitement the orbsgrew bright to a degree almost inconceivable; seeming to emitluminous rays, not of a reflected but of an intrinsic lustre, as doesa candle or the sun; yet their ordinary condition was so totallyvapid, filmy, and dull as to convey the idea of the eyes of along-interred corpse.These peculiarities of person appeared to cause him much annoyance,and he was continually alluding to them in a sort of halfexplanatory, 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 toinsinuate than directly to assert that, physically, he had not alwaysbeen what he was -- that a long series of neuralgic attacks hadreduced him from a condition of more than usual personal beauty, tothat which I saw. For many years past he had been attended by aphysician, named Templeton -- an old gentleman, perhaps seventy yearsof age -- whom he had first encountered at Saratoga, and from whoseattention, while there, he either received, or fancied that hereceived, great benefit. The result was that Bedloe, who was wealthy,had made an arrangement with Dr. Templeton, by which the latter, inconsideration of a liberal annual allowance, had consented to devotehis time and medical experience exclusively to the care of theinvalid.Doctor Templeton had been a traveller in his younger days, and atParis had become a convert, in great measure, to the doctrines ofMesmer. It was altogether by means of magnetic remedies that he hadsucceeded in alleviating the acute pains of his patient; and thissuccess had very naturally inspired the latter with a certain degreeof confidence in the opinions from which the remedies had beeneduced. The Doctor, however, like all enthusiasts, had struggled hardto make a thorough convert of his pupil, and finally so far gainedhis point as to induce the sufferer to submit to numerousexperiments. By a frequent repetition of these, a result had arisen,which of late days has become so common as to attract little or noattention, but which, at the period of which I write, had very rarelybeen known in America. I mean to say, that between Doctor Templetonand Bedloe there had grown up, little by little, a very distinct andstrongly marked rapport, or magnetic relation. I am not prepared toassert, however, that this rapport extended beyond the limits of thesimple sleep-producing power, but this power itself had attainedgreat intensity. At the first attempt to induce the magneticsomnolency, the mesmerist entirely failed. In the fifth or sixth hesucceeded very partially, and after long continued effort. Only atthe twelfth was the triumph complete. After this the will of thepatient succumbed rapidly to that of the physician, so that, when Ifirst became acquainted with the two, sleep was brought about almostinstantaneously by the mere volition of the operator, even when theinvalid was unaware of his presence. It is only now, in the year1845, when similar miracles are witnessed daily by thousands, that Idare venture to record this apparent impossibility as a matter ofserious fact.The temperature of Bedloe was, in the highest degree sensitive,excitable, enthusiastic. His imagination was singularly vigorous andcreative; and no doubt it derived additional force from the habitualuse of morphine, which he swallowed in great quantity, and withoutwhich he would have found it impossible to exist. It was his practiceto take a very large dose of it immediately after breakfast eachmorning -- or, rather, immediately after a cup of strong coffee, forhe ate nothing in the forenoon -- and then set forth alone, orattended only by a dog, upon a long ramble among the chain of wildand 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 duringthe strange interregnum of the seasons which in America is termed theIndian Summer, Mr. Bedloe departed as usual for the hills. The daypassed, and still he did not return.About eight o'clock at night, having become seriously alarmed at hisprotracted absence, we were about setting out in search of him, whenhe unexpectedly made his appearance, in health no worse than usual,and in rather more than ordinary spirits. The account which he gaveof his expedition, and of the events which had detained him, was asingular one indeed."You will remember," said he, "that it was about nine in the morningwhen I left Charlottesville. I bent my steps immediately to themountains, and, about ten, entered a gorge which was entirely new tome. I followed the windings of this pass with much interest. Thescenery which presented itself on all sides, although scarcelyentitled to be called grand, had about it an indescribable and to mea delicious aspect of dreary desolation. The solitude seemedabsolutely virgin. I could not help believing that the green sods andthe gray rocks upon which I trod had been trodden never before by thefoot of a human being. So entirely secluded, and in factinaccessible, except through a series of accidents, is the entranceof the ravine, that it is by no means impossible that I was indeedthe first adventurer -- the very first and sole adventurer who hadever penetrated its recesses."The thick and peculiar mist, or smoke, which distinguishes theIndian Summer, and which now hung heavily over all objects, served,no doubt, to deepen the vague impressions which these objectscreated. So dense was this pleasant fog that I could at no time seemore than a dozen yards of the path before me. This path wasexcessively sinuous, and as the sun could not be seen, I soon lostall idea of the direction in which I journeyed. In the meantime themorphine had its customary effect -- that of enduing all the externalworld with an intensity of interest. In the quivering of a leaf -- inthe hue of a blade of grass -- in the shape of a trefoil -- in thehumming of a bee -- in the gleaming of a dew-drop -- in the breathingof the wind -- in the faint odors that came from the forest -- therecame a whole universe of suggestion -- a gay and motley train ofrhapsodical and immethodical thought."Busied in this, I walked on for several hours, during which the mistdeepened around me to so great an extent that at length I was reducedto an absolute groping of the way. And now an indescribableuneasiness possessed me -- a species of nervous hesitation andtremor. I feared to tread, lest I should be precipitated into someabyss. I remembered, too, strange stories told about these RaggedHills, and of the uncouth and fierce races of men who tenanted theirgroves and caverns. A thousand vague fancies oppressed anddisconcerted me- fancies the more distressing because vague. Verysuddenly my attention was arrested by the loud beating of a drum."My amazement was, of course, extreme. A drum in these hills was athing unknown. I could not have been more surprised at the sound ofthe trump of the Archangel. But a new and still more astoundingsource of interest and perplexity arose. There came a wild rattlingor jingling sound, as if of a bunch of large keys, and upon theinstant a dusky-visaged and half-naked man rushed past me with ashriek. He came so close to my person that I felt his hot breath uponmy face. He bore in one hand an instrument composed of an assemblageof steel rings, and shook them vigorously as he ran. Scarcely had hedisappeared in the mist before, panting after him, with open mouthand glaring eyes, there darted a huge beast. I could not be mistakenin 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 arousemyself to waking consciousness. I stepped boldly and briskly forward.I rubbed my eyes. I called aloud. I pinched my limbs. A small springof water presented itself to my view, and here, stooping, I bathed myhands and my head and neck. This seemed to dissipate the equivocalsensations which had hitherto annoyed me. I arose, as I thought, anew man, and proceeded steadily and complacently on my unknown way."At length, quite overcome by exertion, and by a certain oppressivecloseness of the atmosphere, I seated myself beneath a tree.Presently there came a feeble gleam of sunshine, and the shadow ofthe leaves of the tree fell faintly but definitely upon the grass. Atthis shadow I gazed wonderingly for many minutes. Its characterstupefied me with astonishment. I looked upward. The tree was a palm."I now arose hurriedly, and in a state of fearful agitation -- forthe fancy that I dreamed would serve me no longer. I saw -- I feltthat I had perfect command of my senses -- and these senses nowbrought to my soul a world of novel and singular sensation. The heatbecame all at once intolerable. A strange odor loaded the breeze. Alow, continuous murmur, like that arising from a full, but gentlyflowing river, came to my ears, intermingled with the peculiar hum ofmultitudinous human voices."While I listened in an extremity of astonishment which I need notattempt to describe, a strong and brief gust of wind bore off theincumbent fog as if by the wand of an enchanter."I found myself at the foot of a high mountain, and looking down intoa vast plain, through which wound a majestic river. On the margin ofthis river stood an Eastern-looking city, such as we read of in theArabian Tales, but of a character even more singular than any theredescribed. From my position, which was far above the level of thetown, I could perceive its every nook and corner, as if delineated ona map. The streets seemed innumerable, and crossed each otherirregularly in all directions, but were rather long winding alleysthan streets, and absolutely swarmed with inhabitants. The houseswere wildly picturesque. On every hand was a wilderness of balconies,of verandas, of minarets, of shrines, and fantastically carvedoriels. Bazaars abounded; and in these were displayed rich wares ininfinite variety and profusion -- silks, muslins, the most dazzlingcutlery, the most magnificent jewels and gems. Besides these things,were seen, on all sides, banners and palanquins, litters with statelydames close veiled, elephants gorgeously caparisoned, idolsgrotesquely hewn, drums, banners, and gongs, spears, silver andgilded maces. And amid the crowd, and the clamor, and the generalintricacy and confusion- amid the million of black and yellow men,turbaned and robed, and of flowing beard, there roamed a countlessmultitude of holy filleted bulls, while vast legions of the filthybut sacred ape clambered, chattering and shrieking, about thecornices of the mosques, or clung to the minarets and oriels. Fromthe swarming streets to the banks of the river, there descendedinnumerable flights of steps leading to bathing places, while theriver itself seemed to force a passage with difficulty through thevast fleets of deeply -- burthened ships that far and wideencountered its surface. Beyond the limits of the city arose, infrequent majestic groups, the palm and the cocoa, with other giganticand weird trees of vast age, and here and there might be seen a fieldof rice, the thatched hut of a peasant, a tank, a stray temple, agypsy camp, or a solitary graceful maiden taking her way, with apitcher 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 itnothing of the unmistakable idiosyncrasy of the dream. All wasrigorously self-consistent. At first, doubting that I was reallyawake, I entered into a series of tests, which soon convinced me thatI really was. Now, when one dreams, and, in the dream, suspects thathe dreams, the suspicion never fails to confirm itself, and thesleeper is almost immediately aroused. Thus Novalis errs not insaying that 'we are near waking when we dream that we dream.' Had thevision occurred to me as I describe it, without my suspecting it as adream, then a dream it might absolutely have been, but, occurring asit did, and suspected and tested as it was, I am forced to class itamong 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 ofprofound astonishment "I arose, as you say, and descended into thecity. On my way I fell in with an immense populace, crowding throughevery avenue, all in the same direction, and exhibiting in everyaction the wildest excitement. Very suddenly, and by someinconceivable impulse, I became intensely imbued with personalinterest in what was going on. I seemed to feel that I had animportant part to play, without exactly understanding what it was.Against the crowd which environed me, however, I experienced a deepsentiment of animosity. I shrank from amid them, and, swiftly, by acircuitous path, reached and entered the city. Here all was thewildest tumult and contention. A small party of men, clad in garmentshalf-Indian, half-European, and officered by gentlemen in a uniformpartly British, were engaged, at great odds, with the swarming rabbleof the alleys. I joined the weaker party, arming myself with theweapons of a fallen officer, and fighting I knew not whom with thenervous ferocity of despair. We were soon overpowered by numbers, anddriven to seek refuge in a species of kiosk. Here we barricadedourselves, and, for the present were secure. From a loop-hole nearthe summit of the kiosk, I perceived a vast crowd, in furiousagitation, surrounding and assaulting a gay palace that overhung theriver. Presently, from an upper window of this place, there descendedan effeminate-looking person, by means of a string made of theturbans of his attendants. A boat was at hand, in which he escaped tothe opposite bank of the river."And now a new object took possession of my soul. I spoke a fewhurried but energetic words to my companions, and, having succeededin gaining over a few of them to my purpose made a frantic sally fromthe kiosk. We rushed amid the crowd that surrounded it. Theyretreated, at first, before us. They rallied, fought madly, andretreated 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 beenable to shine. The rabble pressed impetuously upon us, harrassing uswith their spears, and overwhelming us with flights of arrows. Theselatter were very remarkable, and resembled in some respects thewrithing creese of the Malay. They were made to imitate the body of acreeping serpent, and were long and black, with a poisoned barb. Oneof them struck me upon the right temple. I reeled and fell. Aninstantaneous and dreadful sickness seized me. I struggled -- Igasped -- I died." "You will hardly persist now," said I smiling,"that the whole of your adventure was not a dream. You are notprepared to maintain that you are dead?"When I said these words, I of course expected some lively sally fromBedloe in reply, but, to my astonishment, he hesitated, trembled,became fearfully pallid, and remained silent. I looked towardTempleton. He sat erect and rigid in his chair -- his teethchattered, 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 -- mysole feeling -- was that of darkness and nonentity, with theconsciousness of death. At length there seemed to pass a violent andsudden shock through my soul, as if of electricity. With it came thesense of elasticity and of light. This latter I felt -- not saw. Inan instant I seemed to rise from the ground. But I had no bodily, novisible, audible, or palpable presence. The crowd had departed. Thetumult had ceased. The city was in comparative repose. Beneath me laymy corpse, with the arrow in my temple, the whole head greatlyswollen and disfigured. But all these things I felt -- not saw. Itook interest in nothing. Even the corpse seemed a matter in which Ihad no concern. Volition I had none, but appeared to be impelled intomotion, and flitted buoyantly out of the city, retracing thecircuitous path by which I had entered it. When I had attained thatpoint of the ravine in the mountains at which I had encountered thehyena, I again experienced a shock as of a galvanic battery, thesense of weight, of volition, of substance, returned. I became myoriginal self, and bent my steps eagerly homeward -- but the past hadnot lost the vividness of the real -- and not now, even for aninstant, can I compel my understanding to regard it as a dream.""Nor was it," said Templeton, with an air of deep solemnity, "yet itwould be difficult to say how otherwise it should be termed. Let ussuppose only, that the soul of the man of to-day is upon the verge ofsome stupendous psychal discoveries. Let us content ourselves withthis supposition. For the rest I have some explanation to make. Hereis a watercolor drawing, which I should have shown you before, butwhich an unaccountable sentiment of horror has hitherto prevented mefrom showing."We looked at the picture which he presented. I saw nothing in it ofan extraordinary character, but its effect upon Bedloe wasprodigious. He nearly fainted as he gazed. And yet it was but aminiature portrait -- a miraculously accurate one, to be sure -- ofhis own very remarkable features. At least this was my thought as Iregarded it."You will perceive," said Templeton, "the date of this picture -- itis here, scarcely visible, in this corner -- 1780. In this year wasthe portrait taken. It is the likeness of a dead friend -- a Mr.Oldeb -- to whom I became much attached at Calcutta, during theadministration of Warren Hastings. I was then only twenty years old.When I first saw you, Mr. Bedloe, at Saratoga, it was the miraculoussimilarity which existed between yourself and the painting whichinduced me to accost you, to seek your friendship, and to bring aboutthose arrangements which resulted in my becoming your constantcompanion. In accomplishing this point, I was urged partly, andperhaps principally, by a regretful memory of the deceased, but also,in part, by an uneasy, and not altogether horrorless curiosityrespecting yourself."In your detail of the vision which presented itself to you amid thehills, you have described, with the minutest accuracy, the Indiancity of Benares, upon the Holy River. The riots, the combat, themassacre, were the actual events of the insurrection of Cheyte Sing,which took place in 1780, when Hastings was put in imminent peril ofhis life. The man escaping by the string of turbans was Cheyte Singhimself. The party in the kiosk were sepoys and British officers,headed by Hastings. Of this party I was one, and did all I could toprevent the rash and fatal sally of the officer who fell, in thecrowded alleys, by the poisoned arrow of a Bengalee. That officer wasmy dearest friend. It was Oldeb. You will perceive by thesemanuscripts," (here the speaker produced a note-book in which severalpages appeared to have been freshly written,) "that at the veryperiod in which you fancied these things amid the hills, I wasengaged in detailing them upon paper here at home."In about a week after this conversation, the following paragraphsappeared in a Charlottesville paper:"We have the painful duty of announcing the death of Mr. AugustusBedlo, a gentleman whose amiable manners and many virtues have longendeared him to the citizens of Charlottesville."Mr. B., for some years past, has been subject to neuralgia, whichhas often threatened to terminate fatally; but this can be regardedonly as the mediate cause of his decease. The proximate cause was oneof especial singularity. In an excursion to the Ragged Mountains, afew days since, a slight cold and fever were contracted, attendedwith great determination of blood to the head. To relieve this, Dr.Templeton resorted to topical bleeding. Leeches were applied to thetemples. In a fearfully brief period the patient died, when itappeared that in the jar containing the leeches, had been introduced,by accident, one of the venomous vermicular sangsues which are nowand then found in the neighboring ponds. This creature fasteneditself upon a small artery in the right temple. Its close resemblanceto the medicinal leech caused the mistake to be overlooked until toolate."N. B. The poisonous sangsue of Charlottesville may always bedistinguished from the medicinal leech by its blackness, andespecially by its writhing or vermicular motions, which very nearlyresemble those of a snake."I was speaking with the editor of the paper in question, upon thetopic of this remarkable accident, when it occurred to me to ask howit happened that the name of the deceased had been given as Bedlo."I presume," I said, "you have authority for this spelling, but Ihave 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 itto be spelt otherwise in my life.""Then," said I mutteringly, as I turned upon my heel, "then indeedhas it come to pass that one truth is stranger than any fiction --for Bedloe, without the e, what is it but Oldeb conversed! And thisman tells me that it is a typographical error."
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