Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe

by Volume 01-05 (lit)

  the door. At this particular period of the evening I had never before been

  in a similar situation, and the tumultuous sea of human heads filled me,

  therefore, with a delicious novelty of emotion. I gave up, at length, all

  care of things within the hotel, and became absorbed in contemplation of

  the scene without.

  At first my observations took an abstract and generalizing turn. I looked

  at the passengers in masses, and thought of them in their aggregate

  relations. Soon, however, I descended to details, and regarded with minute

  interest the innumerable varieties of figure, dress, air, gait, visage,

  and expression of countenance.

  By far the greater number of those who went by had a satisfied

  business-like demeanor, and seemed to be thinking only of making their way

  through the press. Their brows were knit, and their eyes rolled quickly;

  when pushed against by fellow-wayfarers they evinced no symptom of

  impatience, but adjusted their clothes and hurried on. Others, still a

  numerous class, were restless in their movements, had flushed faces, and

  talked and gesticulated to themselves, as if feeling in solitude on

  account of the very denseness of the company around. When impeded in their

  progress, these people suddenly ceased muttering, but re-doubled their

  gesticulations, and awaited, with an absent and overdone smile upon the

  lips, the course of the persons impeding them. If jostled, they bowed

  profusely to the jostlers, and appeared overwhelmed with confusion. -

  There was nothing very distinctive about these two large classes beyond

  what I have noted. Their habiliments belonged to that order which is

  pointedly termed the decent. They were undoubtedly noblemen, merchants,

  attorneys, tradesmen, stock-jobbers - the Eupatrids and the common-places

  of society - men of leisure and men actively engaged in affairs of their

  own - conducting business upon their own responsibility. They did not

  greatly excite my attention.

  The tribe of clerks was an obvious one and here I discerned two remarkable

  divisions. There were the junior clerks of flash houses - young gentlemen

  with tight coats, bright boots, well-oiled hair, and supercilious lips.

  Setting aside a certain dapperness of carriage, which may be termed

  deskism for want of a better word, the manner of these persons seemed to

  me an exact fac-simile of what had been the perfection of bon ton about

  twelve or eighteen months before. They wore the cast-off graces of the

  gentry; - and this, I believe, involves the best definition of the class.

  The division of the upper clerks of staunch firms, or of the "steady old

  fellows," it was not possible to mistake. These were known by their coats

  and pantaloons of black or brown, made to sit comfortably, with white

  cravats and waistcoats, broad solid-looking shoes, and thick hose or

  gaiters. - They had all slightly bald heads, from which the right ears,

  long used to pen-holding, had an odd habit of standing off on end. I

  observed that they always removed or settled their hats with both hands,

  and wore watches, with short gold chains of a substantial and ancient

  pattern. Theirs was the affectation of respectability; - if indeed there

  be an affectation so honorable.

  There were many individuals of dashing appearance, whom I easily

  understood as belonging to the race of swell pick-pockets with which all

  great cities are infested. I watched these gentry with much

  inquisitiveness, and found it difficult to imagine how they should ever be

  mistaken for gentlemen by gentlemen themselves. Their voluminousness of

  wristband, with an air of excessive frankness, should betray them at once.

  The gamblers, of whom I descried not a few, were still more easily

  recognisable. They wore every variety of dress, from that of the desperate

  thimble-rig bully, with velvet waistcoat, fancy neckerchief, gilt chains,

  and filagreed buttons, to that of the scrupulously inornate clergyman,

  than which nothing could be less liable to suspicion. Still all were

  distinguished by a certain sodden swarthiness of complexion, a filmy

  dimness of eye, and pallor and compression of lip. There were two other

  traits, moreover, by which I could always detect them; - a guarded lowness

  of tone in conversation, and a more than ordinary extension of the thumb

  in a direction at right angles with the fingers. - Very often, in company

  with these sharpers, I observed an order of men somewhat different in

  habits, but still birds of a kindred feather. They may be defined as the

  gentlemen who live by their wits. They seem to prey upon the public in two

  battalions - that of the dandies and that of the military men. Of the

  first grade the leading features are long locks and smiles; of the second

  frogged coats and frowns.

  Descending in the scale of what is termed gentility, I found darker and

  deeper themes for speculation. I saw Jew pedlars, with hawk eyes flashing

  from countenances whose every other feature wore only an expression of

  abject humility; sturdy professional street beggars scowling upon

  mendicants of a better stamp, whom despair alone had driven forth into the

  night for charity; feeble and ghastly invalids, upon whom death had placed

  a sure hand, and who sidled and tottered through the mob, looking every

  one beseechingly in the face, as if in search of some chance consolation,

  some lost hope; modest young girls returning from long and late labor to a

  cheerless home, and shrinking more tearfully than indignantly from the

  glances of ruffians, whose direct contact, even, could not be avoided;

  women of the town of all kinds and of all ages - the unequivocal beauty in

  the prime of her womanhood, putting one in mind of the statue in Lucian,

  with the surface of Parian marble, and the interior filled with filth -

  the loathsome and utterly lost leper in rags - the wrinkled, bejewelled

  and paint-begrimed beldame, making a last effort at youth - the mere child

  of immature form, yet, from long association, an adept in the dreadful

  coquetries of her trade, and burning with a rabid ambition to be ranked

  the equal of her elders in vice; drunkards innumerable and indescribable -

  some in shreds and patches, reeling, inarticulate, with bruised visage and

  lack-lustre eyes - some in whole although filthy garments, with a slightly

  unsteady swagger, thick sensual lips, and hearty-looking rubicund faces -

  others clothed in materials which had once been good, and which even now

  were scrupulously well brushed - men who walked with a more than naturally

  firm and springy step, but whose countenances were fearfully pale, whose

  eyes hideously wild and red, and who clutched with quivering fingers, as

  they strode through the crowd, at every object which came within their

  reach; beside these, pie-men, porters, coal- heavers, sweeps;

  organ-grinders, monkey-exhibiters and ballad mongers, those who vended

  with those who sang; ragged artizans and exhausted laborers of every

  description, and all full of a noisy and inordinate vivacity which jarred

  discordantly upon the ear, and gave an aching sensation to the eye.

  As the night deepened, so
deepened to me the interest of the scene; for

  not only did the general character of the crowd materially alter (its

  gentler features retiring in the gradual withdrawal of the more orderly

  portion of the people, and its harsher ones coming out into bolder relief,

  as the late hour brought forth every species of infamy from its den,) but

  the rays of the gas-lamps, feeble at first in their struggle with the

  dying day, had now at length gained ascendancy, and threw over every thing

  a fitful and garish lustre. All was dark yet splendid - as that ebony to

  which has been likened the style of Tertullian.

  The wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of individual

  faces; and although the rapidity with which the world of light flitted

  before the window, prevented me from casting more than a glance upon each

  visage, still it seemed that, in my then peculiar mental state, I could

  frequently read, even in that brief interval of a glance, the history of

  long years.

  With my brow to the glass, I was thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob,

  when suddenly there came into view a countenance (that of a decrepid old

  man, some sixty-five or seventy years of age,) - a countenance which at

  once arrested and absorbed my whole attention, on account of the absolute

  idiosyncrasy of its expression. Any thing even remotely resembling that

  expression I had never seen before. I well remember that my first thought,

  upon beholding it, was that Retzch, had he viewed it, would have greatly

  preferred it to his own pictural incarnations of the fiend. As I

  endeavored, during the brief minute of my original survey, to form some

  analysis of the meaning conveyed, there arose confusedly and paradoxically

  within my mind, the ideas of vast mental power, of caution, of

  penuriousness, of avarice, of coolness, of malice, of blood thirstiness,

  of triumph, of merriment, of excessive terror, of intense - of supreme

  despair. I felt singularly aroused, startled, fascinated. "How wild a

  history," I said to myself, "is written within that bosom!" Then came a

  craving desire to keep the man in view - to know more of him. Hurriedly

  putting on an overcoat, and seizing my hat and cane, I made my way into

  the street, and pushed through the crowd in the direction which I had seen

  him take; for he had already disappeared. With some little difficulty I at

  length came within sight of him, approached, and followed him closely, yet

  cautiously, so as not to attract his attention.

  I had now a good opportunity of examining his person. He was short in

  stature, very thin, and apparently very feeble. His clothes, generally,

  were filthy and ragged; but as he came, now and then, within the strong

  glare of a lamp, I perceived that his linen, although dirty, was of

  beautiful texture; and my vision deceived me, or, through a rent in a

  closely-buttoned and evidently second-handed roquelaire which enveloped

  him, I caught a glimpse both of a diamond and of a dagger. These

  observations heightened my curiosity, and I resolved to follow the

  stranger whithersoever he should go.

  It was now fully night-fall, and a thick humid fog hung over the city,

  soon ending in a settled and heavy rain. This change of weather had an odd

  effect upon the crowd, the whole of which was at once put into new

  commotion, and overshadowed by a world of umbrellas. The waver, the

  jostle, and the hum increased in a tenfold degree. For my own part I did

  not much regard the rain - the lurking of an old fever in my system

  rendering the moisture somewhat too dangerously pleasant. Tying a

  handkerchief about my mouth, I kept on. For half an hour the old man held

  his way with difficulty along the great thoroughfare; and I here walked

  close at his elbow through fear of losing sight of him. Never once turning

  his head to look back, he did not observe me. By and bye he passed into a

  cross street, which, although densely filled with people, was not quite so

  much thronged as the main one he had quitted. Here a change in his

  demeanor became evident. He walked more slowly and with less object than

  before - more hesitatingly. He crossed and re-crossed the way repeatedly

  without apparent aim; and the press was still so thick that, at every such

  movement, I was obliged to follow him closely. The street was a narrow and

  long one, and his course lay within it for nearly an hour, during which

  the passengers had gradually diminished to about that number which is

  ordinarily seen at noon in Broadway near the Park - so vast a difference

  is there between a London populace and that of the most frequented

  American city. A second turn brought us into a square, brilliantly

  lighted, and overflowing with life. The old manner of the stranger

  re-appeared. His chin fell upon his breast, while his eyes rolled wildly

  from under his knit brows, in every direction, upon those who hemmed him

  in. He urged his way steadily and perseveringly. I was surprised, however,

  to find, upon his having made the circuit of the square, that he turned

  and retraced his steps. Still more was I astonished to see him repeat the

  same walk several times -- once nearly detecting me as he came round with

  a sudden movement.

  In this exercise he spent another hour, at the end of which we met with

  far less interruption from passengers than at first. The rain fell fast;

  the air grew cool; and the people were retiring to their homes. With a

  gesture of impatience, the wanderer passed into a bye-street comparatively

  deserted. Down this, some quarter of a mile long, he rushed with an

  activity I could not have dreamed of seeing in one so aged, and which put

  me to much trouble in pursuit. A few minutes brought us to a large and

  busy bazaar, with the localities of which the stranger appeared well

  acquainted, and where his original demeanor again became apparent, as he

  forced his way to and fro, without aim, among the host of buyers and

  sellers.

  During the hour and a half, or thereabouts, which we passed in this place,

  it required much caution on my part to keep him within reach without

  attracting his observation. Luckily I wore a pair of caoutchouc

  over-shoes, and could move about in perfect silence. At no moment did he

  see that I watched him. He entered shop after shop, priced nothing, spoke

  no word, and looked at all objects with a wild and vacant stare. I was now

  utterly amazed at his behavior, and firmly resolved that we should not

  part until I had satisfied myself in some measure respecting him.

  A loud-toned clock struck eleven, and the company were fast deserting the

  bazaar. A shop-keeper, in putting up a shutter, jostled the old man, and

  at the instant I saw a strong shudder come over his frame. He hurried into

  the street, looked anxiously around him for an instant, and then ran with

  incredible swiftness through many crooked and people-less lanes, until we

  emerged once more upon the great thoroughfare whence we had started -- the

  street of the D---- Hotel. It no longer wore, however, the same aspect. It

  was still brilliant with gas; but the rain fell fiercely, and there were

  few persons to be
seen. The stranger grew pale. He walked moodily some

  paces up the once populous avenue, then, with a heavy sigh, turned in the

  direction of the river, and, plunging through a great variety of devious

  ways, came out, at length, in view of one of the principal theatres. It

  was about being closed, and the audience were thronging from the doors. I

  saw the old man gasp as if for breath while he threw himself amid the

  crowd; but I thought that the intense agony of his countenance had, in

  some measure, abated. His head again fell upon his breast; he appeared as

  I had seen him at first. I observed that he now took the course in which

  had gone the greater number of the audience - but, upon the whole, I was

  at a loss to comprehend the waywardness of his actions.

  As he proceeded, the company grew more scattered, and his old uneasiness

  and vacillation were resumed. For some time he followed closely a party of

  some ten or twelve roisterers; but from this number one by one dropped

  off, until three only remained together, in a narrow and gloomy lane

  little frequented. The stranger paused, and, for a moment, seemed lost in

  thought; then, with every mark of agitation, pursued rapidly a route which

  brought us to the verge of the city, amid regions very different from

  those we had hitherto traversed. It was the most noisome quarter of

  London, where every thing wore the worst impress of the most deplorable

  poverty, and of the most desperate crime. By the dim light of an

  accidental lamp, tall, antique, worm-eaten, wooden tenements were seen

  tottering to their fall, in directions so many and capricious that scarce

  the semblance of a passage was discernible between them. The paving-stones

  lay at random, displaced from their beds by the rankly-growing grass.

  Horrible filth festered in the dammed-up gutters. The whole atmosphere

  teemed with desolation. Yet, as we proceeded, the sounds of human life

  revived by sure degrees, and at length large bands of the most abandoned

  of a London populace were seen reeling to and fro. The spirits of the old

  man again flickered up, as a lamp which is near its death hour. Once more