A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder quotes

“What! amid all this ice?” I cried. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” said he; “I should certainly go mad if I hadn’t hope.”

“Hope!” I repeated; “I have long since given up hope.”

“Hope?” said Agnew; “of course. Why not?

There are no limits to hope, are there? One can hope anything anywhere.

It is better to die while struggling like a man, full of hope and energy than to perish in inaction and despair. It is better to die in the storm and furious waters than to waste away in this awful place. So come along.

and though I longed to fly, I could not for his sake. The boat seemed to be a haven of rest. I longed to be in her once more, and drift away, even if it should be to my death.

Nature was here less terrible than man; and it seemed better to drown in the waters, to perish amid rocks and whirlpools, than to linger here amid such horrors as these.

These people were not like human beings. The vilest and lowest savages that I had ever seen were not so odious as these. A herd of monkeys would be far more congenial, a flock of wolves less abhorrent.

“So it is with me,” said I. “In my country we call death the King of Terrors.”

“Here,” said Almah, “they call death the Lord of Joy.”

Not long after, the Kohen came in, looking as quiet, as gentle, and as amiable as ever. He showed some curiosity about my rifle, which he called a sepet-ram, or “rod of thunder.” Almah also showed curiosity.

At last a grisly thought came to me: it was that they would learn these sweet strains, and put their own words to them so as to use them at the awful sacrifices. After that I would play no more.

It is a land of tender love and remorseless cruelty.

Music is all-powerful to awaken the one, but powerless to abate the other; and the eyes that weep over the pathetic strains of “Lochaber” can gaze without a tear upon the death-agonies of a slaughtered friend.

“No,” said Almah; “I mean what I say.

In this country the paupers form the most honored and envied class.

”

“Certainly not,” said Almah. “

Would you kill a man who asked for death? No more would these people spare a man who asked for life.

”

Horror is a feeling that cannot last long; human nature is incapable of supporting it.

Sadness, whether from bereavement, or disappointment, or misfortune of any kind, may linger on through life. In my case, however, the milder and more enduring feeling of sadness had no sufficient cause for existence. The sights which I had seen inspired horror, and horror only.

The Kohen in particular was devoted to her. He was absentminded, silent, and full of care. On the whole, I felt more than ever puzzled, and less able than ever to understand these people.

I loved them, yet loathed them

; for the Kohen I had at once affection and horror. He looked like an anxious father, full of tenderest love for a sick child—full also of delicate sympathy with me;

“

Love death? What a question! Of course I love death⁠—all men do; who does not?

Is it not human nature? Do we not instinctively fly to meet it whenever we can? Do we not rush into the jaws of sea-monsters, or throw ourselves within their grasp?

Why, death is the greatest blessing. We all long for it; it is the end of our being. As for riches, they are a curse, abhorred by all. Above all, as to love, we shrink from the thought of requital.

Death is our chief blessing, poverty our greatest happiness, and unrequited love the sweetest lot of man.

”

Among the Kosekin everyone makes perpetual efforts to serve others, which, however, are perpetually baffled by the unselfishness of these others. People thus spend years in trying to overreach one another, so as to make others richer than themselves.

In a race each one tries to keep behind; but as this leads to confusion, there is then a universal effort for each one to be first, so as to put his neighbor in the honorable position of the rear.

It is the same way in a hunt. Each one presses forward, so as to honor his companion by leaving him behind. Instead of injuring, everyone tries to benefit his neighbor.

The paupers have shown no mercy in their hour of triumph; they have not conceded one jot to the public demand, and the unhappy conspirators have been condemned to increased wealth and luxury, while the leaders have been made Meleks and Kohens.

Thus there are among the Kosekin the unfortunate many who are cursed with wealth, and the fortunate few who are blessed with poverty.

These walk while the others ride, and from their squalid huts look proudly and contemptuously upon the palaces of their unfortunate fellow-countrymen.

There are many other crimes, all of which are severely punished.

The worse the offence is, the better is the offender treated.

Among the Kosekin capital punishment is imprisonment amid the greatest splendor, where the prisoner is treated like a king, and has many palaces and great retinues;

The officers embraced one another and exchanged words of delight. The Kohen, after embracing all the others, turned to me, and, forgetting my foreign ways, exclaimed, in a tone of enthusiastic delight,

“We are destroyed! Death is near! Rejoice!”

Accustomed as I was to the perils of the sea, I had learned to face death without flinching. Almah, too, was calm, for to her this death seemed preferable to that darker fate which awaited us;

“That is strange,” said I; “but suppose the man does not love the woman?”

“Why, no woman wants to be loved; she only wants to love.”

At this I felt somewhat bewildered.

Could I turn upon her and say “Unhand me”? Could I say “Away! I am another’s”? Of course I couldn’t; and what’s worse, if I had said such things Layelah would have smiled me down into silence.

The fact is, it doesn’t do for women to take the initiative⁠—it’s not fair.

I had stood a good deal among the Kosekin.

“But victims cannot marry, you said.”

“No,” said Layelah, sweetly, “they cannot marry one another, but Almah may marry dear papa, and then you and I can be married, and it will be all very nice indeed.”

At this I started away.

“Well, but I’m not going to be given up.”

“Why, how unreasonable you are, you foolish boy!” said Layelah, in her most caressing manner. “You have nothing at all to do with it.”

At this I was in fresh despair, and then a new thought came, which I seized upon.

At this Layelah laughed long and merrily. Peal after peal of laughter, musical and most merry, burst from her. It was contagious; I could not help joining in, and so we both sat laughing. It was a long time before we regained our self-control.

“Why, that’s downright bigamy!” exclaimed Layelah with fresh laughter.

“Why, Atam-or, you’re mad!” and so she went off again in fresh peals of laughter. It was evident that my proposal was not at all shocking, but simply comical, ridiculous, and inconceivable in its absurdity.

“Why, that’s downright bigamy!” exclaimed Layelah with fresh laughter.

“Why, Atam-or, you’re mad!”

and so she went off again in fresh peals of laughter. It was evident that my proposal was not at all shocking, but simply comical, ridiculous, and inconceivable in its absurdity.

“But won’t it—won’t it bite?” I asked, with a shudder.

“Oh no,” said Layelah; “it swallows its victuals whole.”

At this I shrank away still farther.

“Oh, Atam-or,” she cried, “see—see the trees, see the grass, the bushes! This is a land of wonder. As for food, you can call it down from the sky with your sepet-ram, or we can find it on the rocks.

Oh, Atam-or! life is better than death, and we can live here, and we can be happy.

This shall be better to us than the lands of the Orin, for we shall be alone, and we shall be all in all to one another.”

“Well,” said Melick, “I for one am thoroughly satisfied, and don’t need another single word. The fact is,

I never knew before the all-sufficient nature of Grimm’s Law.

Why, it can unlock any mystery! When I get home I must buy one—a tame one, if possible—and keep him with me always. It is more useful to a literary man than to any other.

The chief topic of his discourse was death. He hated life, loved death, longed for it in all its forms, whether arising from disease or from violence.

He was an amateur in corpses, and had a larger experience in dead bodies than any other man in the nation.

I could not help asking him once why he did not kill himself, and be done with it.

He longed to give death to all. As with us there are certain philanthropists who have a mania for doing good, so here the pauper class had a mania for doing what they considered good in this way.

The Chief Pauper was a sort of Kosekin Howard or Peabody, and was regarded by all with boundless reverence.

To me, however, he was an object of never-ending hate, abhorrence, and loathing; and, added to this, was the thought that there might be here some equally hideous female—someone like the nightmare hag of the outer sea—a torment and a horror to Almah.

and yet, as I look back and count the joms of my life to see in how many I have known happiness, I find that in all they amount to just seven!

Oh, Atam-or, what a comment is this on the vanity of human life!

”

and so we mingled our tears, and shared one common rapture. And sweet it was—sweet beyond all expression—the sweetest moment in all my life; for it had come in the midst of the drear desolation of my heart and the black despair.

It was like a flash of lightning in the intense darkness, short and sudden indeed, yet still intense while it lasted, and in an instant filling all with its glow.

“I did this,” murmured Almah, “to see you and to save you.”

“You have embraced for the last time. Henceforth there is no more sorrow in your love. You may be happy now in being forever disunited, and in knowing the bliss of eternal separation.

As darkness is better than light, as death is better than life, so may you find separation better than union.

”

“Certainly.

Why should we be so cruel to the dear child as to deprive her of so great a boon?

”

for there far away over the icy crests of the lofty mountains I saw a long line of splendid effulgence, all golden and red—the light of the new dawn—the dawn of that long day which was now approaching.

The sight of that dawning light gave me new life.

It was like a sight of home—the blessed dawn, the sunlight of a bright day, the glorious daybreak lost for so long a time, but now at last returning.