The Mask of the Red Death - Graham's Magazine, May 1842 — reading text

right ; I only reside here occasionally.” few ever see the door and still fewer pass through * The Burgundy is good; but it is growing cold it. All seems strange here. Wild forms move hither here.” and thither and each has a certain character—one ** Let us go into the house and finish the flask.” more than the others. They are never seen in the ** A good proposal—I do not know you; neither high-way ; they only can be found behind the ivory do you know me. We will not ask each other’s door. It is difficult to come out of this kingdom. ANA it CA IP 8 1S icine Bai hosts i names. Names are sometimes in the way. Here am Monsters besiege the way as before the Castle of I drinking Burgundy without it costing me anything. Alsinens—they twirl—they twist. Many dream their Our companionship is agreeable to both, and so far dream in the Kingdom of Dreams,—they dissolve in so good.” dreams,—they cast no more shadows—otherwise by All this he said with good-humored frankness. We means of their shadows they would perceive the entered the house together. As soon as he sat down rays which pass through this realm; only a few and threw open his overcoat, I perceived with awakened out of this dream, walk about and stride astonishment, that under it he wore an embroidered through the Kingdom of Dreams—they come to vest with long lappels, black velvet breeches, and a Truth. This is the highest moment ;—the union with very small silver-hilted dagger. He again buttoned the eternal and unspeakable! It is the triple tone, ES SS — up his coat carefully. from which the accords, like stars, shoot down and ““Why did you ask me if I was a Berliner?” I spin around you with threads of fire. You lie there resumed. 272 GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. oe like a chrysalis in the fire, until the Psyche soars the Berliners. Here, where art is so highly esteemed up to the sun.” and practised by the people in the highest degree—I As he spoke these last words, he sprang up, and should think that a man of your genius in art would raised his eyes, and threw up his hand. Then he like to be.” seated himself and quickly emptied the full glass. A “You are mistaken. I am condemned for my silence ensued, which I would not break, through a torment to wander about here in this deserted place fear of leading this extraordinary man out of his like a departed spirit.” track. At last he continued in a calmer manner— ‘Here in Berlin—a deserted place?” ‘*When I was in the kingdom of dreams a thou- ‘* Yes, it is deserted to me, for I can find no kind- sand pangs and sorrows tormented me. It ~as night, dred spirit here. I am alone.” and the grinning forms of monsters rush::. in upon ** But the artists !—the composers !”’ me, now dragging me down into the abyss of the ‘Away withthem. They criticise and criticise, sea, and now lifting me high into the air. Rays of refining away everything to find one poor little light streamed through the night, and these rays thought—but beyond their babble about art and artis- were tones which encircled me with delicious tical taste, and I know not what—they can shape clearness. I awoke out of my pain and saw a large out nothing, and as soon as they endeavor to bring clear eye, gazing into an organ, and while it gazed, out a few thoughts into daylight—their fearful cold- tones issued forth and sparkled and intervened in ness shows their extreme distance from the sun—it chords more glorious than I had ever imagined. Up is Lapland work.” and down streamed melodies, and as I swam in this ‘* Your judgment seems to me too stern. At least stream, and was on the point of sinking, the eye you must allow that their theatrical representations looked down upon me and raised me out of the roar- are magnificent.” ing waves. It was night again. Two colossi in **T once resolved to go to the theatre to hear the glittering harnesses stepped up to me—Tonic and opera of one of my young friends—what is the name fifth! they lifted me up but the eye smiled; I know of it? The whole world is in this opera—through what fills thy breast with yearnings, the gentle ten- the confused bustle of dressed up men, wander the der third will step between the colossi; you will spirits of Orcus. All here has a voice and an a, we m & hear his sweet voice, will see me again, and my almighty sound. The devil—I mean Don Juan. But melodies shall become yours.” I could not endure it beyond the overture, through He paused. . which they blustered as fast as possible without per- Es A ‘** And you saw the eye again?” ception or understanding. And I had prepared my- ‘* Yes, I saw it again. Long yearsI sighed in the self for that by a course of fasting and prayer, be realms of dreams—there—yes, there!—I sat in a cause I know that the Euphon is much too seyerely beautiful valley, and listened to the flowers as they tried by this measure and gives an indistinct utter- sang together; only one sun-flower was silent and ance.” sadly bent its closed chalice towards the earth. In- “Though I must admit that Mozart’s master- visible bonds bound me to it—it raised its head. The pieces are generally slighted here in a most inexpli- chalice opened, and streaming out of it again the eye cable manner—yet Gluck’s works are very much met mine—The tones, like rays of light, drew my better represented.” head toward the flower which eagerly enclosed it. “Do you think so? I once was desirous of hear- Larger and larger grew the leaves—flames streamed ing the Iphigenia in Tauris. As soon as I entered forth from it—they flowed around me—the eye had the theatre, I perceived they were playing the Iphi- vanished and I was in the chalice.” genia in Aulis. Then—thought I, this is a mistake. As he spoke these last words, he sprang up, and Do they call this Iphigenia? I was amazed—for rushed out of the room with rapid youthful strides. now the Andante came in, with which the Iphigenia I awaited his return in vain; I concluded at last to in Tanris opens, and the storm followed. There is go down into the city. an interval of twenty years. All the effect, all the As I approached the Brandenburg gates, I saw in admirably arranged exposition of the tragedy is lost. the gloaming a tall figure stride by me, which I im- A still sea—a storm—the Greeks wrecked on the mediately recognized as my strange companion—I land—this is the opera. How ?—has the composer said to him— written the overture at random, so that one may play ‘‘ Why did you leave me so abruptly?” it as he pleases and when he will, like a trumpet- ‘*‘ Tt was too late and the Euphon began to sound.” piece ?” **T don’t know what you mean !” ‘“‘T confess that is a mistake. Yet in the mean- ‘* So much the better!” time, they are doing all they can to raise Gluck’s ‘So much the worse: for I should like to under- works in the general estimation.” stand you.” ** Oh yes !”’ said he shortly—and then smiled more **Do you hear nothing?” and more bitterly. Suddenly he walked off, and no- «c No.”? thing could detain him. In a moment he disappeard, “Tt is past! Let us go—I do not generally like and for many successive days I sought him in vain company ; but—you are not a composer—you are in the park. not a Berliner ?” * * * * * * ‘«T cannot conceive what so prejudices you against Several months had elapsed, when one cold, rainy  THE CHEVALIER GLUCK. 273 evening, having been belated in a distant part of the the man stepped towards a press in the corner of a city, I was going towards my house in Friedrich chamber which I had not perceived before, and as street. It was necessary to pass by the theatre. The soon as he drew aside the curtain I saw a row of noisy music of trumpets and kettle drums reminded beautifully. bound books with golden titles Orfeo— me that Gluck’s Armida was to be now performed, Armida—Alcesti—Iphigenia—&c.—in short a collec- and I was on the point of going in, when a curious tion of Gluck’s master pieces standing together. soliloquy spoken from the window, where every “Do you own all Gluck’s works?”