The Uncollected Writings of Thomas de Quincey, Vol. 2: With a Preface and Annotations by James HoggDe Quincey, Thomas
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The Uncollected Writings of Thomas de Quincey, Vol. 2: With a Preface and Annotations by James Hogg
De Quincey, Thomas
English literature
'Oft he to her his charge of quick return
Repeated; she to him as oft engag'd
To be returned by noon amid the bow'r,
And all things in best order to invite
Noon-tide repast, or afternoon's repose.
Oh much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve!
Of thy presumed return, event perverse!
Thou never from that hour in Paradise
Found'st either sweet repast, or sound repose.'
'_My_ Eve!' I exclaimed, 'partner in _my_ paradise, where art thou? _Much
failing_ thou wilt not be found, nor _much deceived_; innocent in any case
thou art; but, alas! too surely by this time _hapless_, and the victim of
some diabolic wickedness.' Thus I murmured to myself; thus I ejaculated;
thus I apostrophised my Agnes; then again came a stormier mood. I could not
sit still; I could not stand in quiet; I threw the book from me with
violence against the wall; I began to hurry backwards and forwards in a
short uneasy walk, when suddenly a sound, a step; it was the sound of the
garden-gate opening, followed by a hasty tread. Whose tread! Not for a
moment could it be fancied the oread step which belonged to that daughter of
the hills--my wife, my Agnes; no, it was the dull massy tread of a man: and
immediately there came a loud blow upon the door, and in the next moment,
the bell having been found, a furious peal of ringing. Oh coward heart! not
for a lease of immortality could I have gone forwards myself. My breath
failed me; an interval came in which respiration seemed to be stifled--the
blood to halt in its current; and then and there I recognised in myself the
force and living truth of that Scriptural description of a heart consciously
beset by evil without escape: 'Susannah _sighed_.' Yes, a long long sigh--a
deep deep sigh--that is the natural language by which the overcharged heart
utters forth the wo that else would break it. I sighed--oh how profoundly!
But that did not give me power to move. Who will go to the door? I whispered
audibly. Who is at the door? was the inaudible whisper of my heart. Then
might be seen the characteristic differences of the three women. That one,
whom I suspected, I heard raising an upper window to look out and
reconnoitre. The affectionate Rachael, on the other hand, ran eagerly
down-stairs; but Hannah, half dressed, even her bosom exposed, passed her
like a storm; and before I heard any sound of opening a door, I saw from the
spot where I stood the door already wide open, and a man in the costume of a
policeman. All that he said I could not hear; but this I heard--that I was
wanted at the police office, and had better come off without delay. He
seemed then to get a glimpse of me, and to make an effort towards coming
nearer; but I slunk away, and left to Hannah the task of drawing from him
any circumstances which he might know. But apparently there was not much to
tell, or rather, said I, there is too much, the _much_ absorbs the _many_;
some one mighty evil transcends and quells all particulars.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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