THE KINETOSCOPE OF TIME
As the twelfth stroke of the bell in the tower at the corner tolledforth slowly, the midnight wind blew chill down the deserted avenue,and swept it clear of all belated wayfarers. The bare trees in the thinstrip of park clashed their lifeless branches; the river far belowslipped along silently. There was no moon, and the stars were shrouded.It was a black night. Yet far in the distance there was a gleam ofcheerful light which lured me on and on. I could not have said why itwas that I had ventured forth at that hour on such a night. It seemedto me as though the yellow glimmer I beheld afar off was the goal of myexcursion. Something within whispered to me then that I need go nofarther when once I had come to the spot whence the soft glareproceeded.
The pall of darkness was so dense that I could not see the sparsehouses I chanced to pass, nor did I know where I was any more. I urgedforward blindly, walking towards the light, which was all that brokethe blackness before me; its faint illumination seemed to me somehow tobe kindly, inviting, irresistible. At last I came to a halt in front ofa building I had never before seen, although I thought myself wellacquainted with that part of the city. It was a circular edifice, or soit seemed to me then; and I judged that it had but a single story, ortwo, at the most. The door stood open to the street; and it was fromthis that the light was cast. So dim was this illumination now I hadcome to it that I marvelled I could have seen it at all afar off as Iwas when first I caught sight of it.
While I stood at the portal of the unsuspected edifice, peeringdoubtfully within, wondering to what end I had been led thither, andhesitating as to my next step, I felt again the impulse to go forward.At that moment tiny darts of fire, as it were, glowed at the end of thehall that opened before me, and they ran together rapidly and joined inliquid lines and then faded as suddenly as they had come--but not toosoon for me to read the simple legend they had written in the air--aninvitation to me, so I interpreted it, to go forward again, to enterthe building, and to see for myself why I had been enticed there.
Without hesitation I obeyed. I walked through the doorway, and I becameconscious that the door had closed behind me as I pressed forward. Thepassage was narrow and but faintly lighted; it bent to the right with acircular sweep as though it skirted the inner circumference of thebuilding; still curving, it sank by a gentle gradient; and then it roseagain and turned almost at right angles. Pushing ahead resolutely,although in not a little doubt as to the meaning of my adventure, Ithrust aside a heavy curtain, soft to the hand. Then I found myselfjust inside a large circular hall. Letting the hangings fall behind me,I took three or four irresolute paces which brought me almost to thecentre of the room. I saw that the walls were continuously draped withthe heavy folds of the same soft velvet, so that I could not even guesswhere it was I had entered. The rotunda was bare of all furniture;there was no table in it, no chair, no sofa; nor was anything hangingfrom the ceiling or against the curtained walls. All that the roomcontained was a set of four curiously shaped narrow stands, placed overagainst one another at the corners of what might be a square drawnwithin the circle of the hall. These narrow stands were close to thecurtains; they were perhaps a foot wide, each of them, or it might be alittle more: they were twice or three times as long as they were wide;and they reached a height of possibly three or four feet.
Going towards one of these stands to examine it more curiously, Idiscovered that there were two projections from the top, resemblingeye-pieces, as though inviting the beholder to gaze into the inside ofthe stand. Then I thought I heard a faint metallic click above my head.Raising my eyes swiftly, I read a few words written, as it were,against the dark velvet of the heavy curtains in dots of flame thatflowed one into the other and melted away in a moment. When thismysterious legend had faded absolutely, I could not recall the words Ihad read in the fitful and flitting letters of fire, and yet I retainedthe meaning of the message; and I understood that if I chose to peerthrough the eye-pieces I should see a succession of strange dances.
To gaze upon dancing was not what I had gone forth to do, but I saw noreason why I should not do so, as I was thus strangely bidden. Ilowered my head until my eyes were close to the two openings at the topof the stand. I looked into blackness at first, and yet I thought thatI could detect a mystic commotion of the invisible particles at which Iwas staring. I made no doubt that, if I waited, in due season thepromise would be fulfilled. After a period of expectancy which I couldnot measure, infinitesimal sparks darted hither and thither, and therewas a slight crackling sound. I concentrated my attention on what I wasabout to see; and in a moment more I was rewarded.
The darkness took shape and robed itself in color; and there arose outof it a spacious banquet-hall, where many guests sat at supper. I couldnot make out whether they were Romans or Orientals; the structureitself had a Latin solidity, but the decorations were Eastern in theirglowing gorgeousness. The hall was illumined by hanging lamps, by thelight of which I tried to decide whether the ruler who sat in the seatof honor was a Roman or an Oriental. The beautiful woman beside himstruck me as Eastern beyond all question. While I gazed intently heturned to her and proffered a request. She smiled acquiescence, andthere was a flash of anticipated triumph in her eye as she beckoned toa menial and sent him forth with a message. A movement as of expectancyran around the tables where the guests sat at meat. The attendantsopened wide the portals and a young girl came forward. She was perhapsfourteen or fifteen years of age, but in the East women ripen young,and her beauty was indisputable. She had large, deep eyes and a fullmouth; and there was a chain of silver and golden coins twisted intoher coppery hair. She was so like to the woman who sat beside the rulerthat I did not doubt them to be mother and daughter. At a word from theelder the younger began to dance; and her dance was Oriental, slow atfirst, but holding every eye with its sensual fascination. The girl wasa mistress of the art; and not a man in the room withdrew his gaze fromher till she made an end and stood motionless before the ruler. He saida few words I could not hear, and then the daughter turned to themother for guidance; and again I caught the flash of triumph in theelder woman's eye and on her face the suggestion of a hatred about tobe glutted. And then the light faded and the darkness settled down onthe scene and I saw no more.
I did not raise my head from the stand, for I felt sure that this wasnot all I was to behold; and in a few moments there was again a faintscintillation. In time the light was strong enough for me to perceivethe irregular flames of a huge bonfire burning in an old square of somemediaeval city. It was evening, and yet a throng of men and women andchildren made an oval about the fire and about a slim girl who hadspread Persian carpet on the rough stones of the broad street. She wasa brunette, with dense black hair; she wore a striped skirt, and ajacket braided with gold had slipped from her bare shoulders. She helda tambourine in her hand and she was twisting and turning in cadence toher own song. Then she went to one side where stood a white goat withgilded horns and put down her tambourine and took up two swords; andwith these in her hands she resumed her dance. A man in the throng, aman of scant thirty-five, but already bald, a man of stalwart frame,fixed hot eyes upon her; and from time to time a smile and a sigh meton his lips, but the smile was more dolorous than the sigh. And as thegypsy girl ceased her joyous gyrations, the bonfire died out, anddarkness fell on the scene again, and I could no longer see anything.
Again I waited, and after an interval no longer than the other therecame a faint glow that grew until I saw clearly as in the morning sunthe glade of a forest through which a brook rippled. A sad-faced womansat on a stone by the side of the streamlet; her gray garments set offthe strange ornament in the fashion of a single letter of the alphabetthat was embroidered in gold and in scarlet over her heart. Visible atsome distance was a little girl, like a bright-apparelled vision, in asunbeam, which fell down upon her through an arch of boughs. The rayquivered to and fro, making her figure dim or distinct, now like a realchild, now like a child's spirit, as the splendor came and went. Withviolets and ane
mones and columbines the little girl had decorated herhair. The mother looked at the child and the child danced and sparkledand prattled airily along the course of the streamlet, which kept up ababble, kind, quiet, soothing, but melancholy. Then the mother raisedher head as though her ears had detected the approach of some onethrough the wood. But before I could see who this newcomer might be,once more the darkness settled down upon the scene.
This time I knew the interval between the succeeding visions and Iwaited without impatience; and in due season I found myself gazing at apicture as different as might be from any I had yet beheld.
In the broad parlor of a house that seemed to be spacious, amiddle-aged lady, of an appearance at once austere and kindly, waslooking at a smiling gentleman who was coming towards her pulling alonga little negro girl about eight or nine years of age. She was one ofthe blackest of her race; and her round, shining eyes, glittering asglass beads, moved with quick and restless glances over everything inthe room. Her woolly hair was braided in sundry little tails, whichstuck out in every direction. She was dressed in a single filthy,ragged garment, made of bagging; and altogether there was something oddand goblin-like about her appearance. The severe old maid examined thisstrange creature in dismay and then directed a glance of inquiry at thegentleman in white. He smiled again and gave a signal to the littlenegro girl. Whereupon the black eyes glittered with a kind of wickeddrollery, and apparently she began to sing, keeping time with her handsand feet, spinning round, clapping her hands, knocking her kneestogether, in a wild, fantastic sort of time; and finally, turning asomersault or two, she came suddenly down on the carpet, and stood withher hands folded, and a most sanctimonious expression of meekness andsolemnity over her face, only broken by the cunning glances which sheshot askance from the corners of her eyes. The elderly lady stoodsilent, perfectly paralyzed with amazement, while the smiling gentlemanin white was amused at her astonishment.
Once more the vision faded. And when, after the same interval, thedarkness began to disappear again, even while everything was dim andindistinct I knew that the scene was shifted from the South to theNorth. I saw a room comfortably furnished, with a fire smouldering in aporcelain stove. In a corner stood a stripped Christmas-tree, with itscandles burned out. Against the wall between the two doors was a piano,on which a man was playing--a man who twisted his head now and again tolook over his shoulder, sometimes at another and younger man standingby the stove, sometimes at a young woman who was dancing alone in thecentre of the room. This young woman had draped herself in a longparti-colored shawl and she held a tambourine in her hand. There was inher eyes a look of fear, as of one conscious of an impendingmisfortune. As I gazed she danced more and more wildly. The manstanding by the porcelain stove was apparently making suggestions, towhich she paid no heed. At last her hair broke loose and fell over hershoulders; and even this she did not notice, going on with her dancingas though it were a matter of life and death. Then one of the doorsopened and another woman stood on the threshold. The man at the pianoceased playing and left the instrument. The dancer paused unwillingly,and looked pleadingly up into the face of the younger man as he cameforward and put his arm around her.
And then once more the light died away and I found myself peering intoa void blackness. This time, though I waited long, there were nocrackling sparks announcing another inexplicable vision. I peeredintently into the stand, but I saw nothing. At last I raised my headand looked about me. Then on the hangings over another of the fourstands, over the one opposite to that into which I had been looking,there appeared another message, the letters melting one into another inlines of liquid light; and this told me that in the other stand Icould, if I chose, gaze upon combats as memorable as the delectabledances I had been beholding.
I made no hesitation, but crossed the room and took my place before theother stand and began at once to look through the projectingeye-pieces. No sooner had I taken this position than the dots of firedarted across the depth into which I was gazing; and then there came afull clear light as of a cloudless sky, and I saw the walls of anancient city. At the gates of the city there stood a young man, andtoward him there ran a warrior, brandishing a spear, while the bronzeof his helmet and his armor gleamed in the sunlight. And tremblingseized the young man and he fled in fear; and the warrior darted afterhim, trusting in his swift feet. Valiant was the flier, but farmightier he who fleetingly pursued him. At last the young man tookheart and made a stand against the warrior. They faced each other inlight. The warrior hurled his spear and it went over the young man'shead. And the young man then hurled his spear in turn and it struckfair upon the centre of the warrior's shield. Then the young man drewhis sharp sword that by his flank hung great and strong. But by somemagic the warrior had recovered his spear; and as the young man cameforward he hurled it again, and it drove through the neck of the youngman at the joint of his armor, and he fell in the dust. After that thesun was darkened; and in a moment more I was looking into an emptyblackness.
When again the light returned it was once more with the full blaze ofmid-day that the scene was illumined, and the glare of the sun wasreflected from the burning sands of the desert. Two or three palmsarose near a well, and there two horsemen faced each other warily. Onewas a Christian knight in a coat of linked mail, over which he wore asurcoat of embroidered cloth, much frayed and bearing more than oncethe arms of the wearer--a couchant leopard. The other was a Saracen,who was circling swiftly about the knight of the leopard. The crusadersuddenly seized the mace which hung at his saddle-bow, and with astrong hand and unerring aim sent it crashing against the head of hisfoe, who raised his buckler of rhinoceros-hide in time to save hislife, though the force of the blow bore him from the saddle. The knightspurred his steed forward, but the Saracen leaped into his seat againwithout touching the stirrup. While the Christian recovered his mace,the infidel withdrew to a little distance and strung the short bow hecarried at his back. Then he circled about his foe, whose armor stoodhim in good stead, until the seventh shaft apparently found a lessperfect part, and the Christian dropped heavily from his horse. But thedismounted Oriental found himself suddenly in the grasp of theEuropean, who had recourse to this artifice to bring his enemy withinhis reach. The Saracen was saved again by his agility; and loosing hissword-belt, which the knight had grasped, he mounted his watchinghorse. He had lost his sword and his arrows and his turban, and thesedisadvantages seemed to incline him for a truce. He approached theChristian with his right hand extended, but no longer in a menacingattitude. What the result of this proffer of a parley might be I couldnot observe, for the figures became indistinct, as though a cloud hadsettled down on them; and in a few seconds more all was blank beforeme.
When the next scene grew slowly into view I thought for a moment itmight be a continuation of the preceding, for the country I beheld wasalso soaking in the hot sunlight of the South, and there was also amounted knight in armor. A second glance undeceived me. This knight wasold and thin and worn, and his armor was broken and pieced, and hishelmet was but a barber's basin, and his steed was a pitiful skeleton.His countenance was sorrowful indeed, but there was that in his mannerwhich would stop any man from denying his nobility. His eye was firedwith a high purpose and a lofty resolve. In the distance before himwere a group of windmills waving their arms in the air, and the knighturged forward his wretched horse as though to charge them. Upon an assbehind him was a fellow of the baser sort, a genial, simple follower,seemingly serving him as his squire. As the knight pricked forward hissorry steed and couched his lance, the attendant apparently appealed tohim, and tried to explain, and even ventured on expostulation. But theknight gave no heed to the protests of the squire, who shook his headand dutifully followed his master. What the issue of this unequalcombat was to be I could not see, for the inexorable veil of darknessfell swiftly.
Even after the stray sparks had again flitted through the blacknessinto which I was gazing daylight did not return, and it was withdifficulty I was able at last to make out a v
ague street in a mediaevalcity doubtfully outlined by the hidden moon. From a window high abovethe stones there came a faint glimmer. Under this window stood asoldier worn with the wars, who carried himself as though glad now tobe at home again. He seemed to hear approaching feet, and he withdrewinto the shadow as two others advanced. One of these was a handsomeyouth with an eager face, in which spirituality and sensualitycontended. The other was older, of an uncertain age, and his expressionwas mocking and evil; he carried some sort of musical instrument, andto this he seemed to sing while the younger man looked up at thewindow. The soldier came forward angrily and dashed the instrument tothe ground with his sword. Then the newcomers drew also, and the elderguarded while the younger thrust. There were a few swift passes, andthen the younger of the two lunged fiercely, and the soldier fell backon the stones wounded to the death. Without a glance behind them, thetwo who had withstood his onslaught withdrew, as the window aboveopened and a fair-haired girl leaned forth.
Then nothing was visible, until after an interval the light once morereturned and I saw a sadder scene than any yet. In a hollow of the baremountains a little knot of men in dark-blue uniforms were centred abouttheir commander, whose long locks floated from beneath his broad hat.Around this small band of no more than a score of soldiers, thousandsof red Indians were raging, with exultant hate in their eyes. Thebodies of dead comrades lay in narrowing circles about the thinninggroup of blue-coats. The red men were picking off their few survivingfoes, one by one; and the white men could do nothing, for theircartridges were all gone. They stood at bay, valiant and defiant,despite their many wounds; but the line of their implacable foemen wasdrawn tighter and tighter about them, and one after another they fellforward dying or dead, until at last only the long-haired commander wasleft, sore wounded but unconquered in spirit.
When this picture of strong men facing death fearlessly was at lastdissolved into darkness like the others that had gone before, I had aninward monition that it was the last that would be shown me; and so itwas, for although I kept my place at the stand for two or three minutesmore, no warning sparks dispersed the opaque depth.
When I raised my head from the eye-pieces, I became conscious that Iwas not alone. Almost in the centre of the circular hall stood amiddle-aged man of distinguished appearance, whose eyes were fixed uponme. I wondered who he was, and whence he had come, and how he hadentered, and what it might be that he wished with me. I caught aglimpse of a smile that lurked vaguely on his lips. Neither this smilenor the expression of his eyes was forbidding, though both were uncannyand inexplicable. He seemed to be conscious of a remoteness which wouldrender futile any effort of his towards friendliness.
How long we stood thus staring the one at the other I do not know. Myheart beat heavily and my tongue refused to move when at last I triedto break the silence.
Then he spoke, and his voice was low and strong and sweet.
"You are welcome," he began, and I noted that the accent was slightlyforeign, Italian perhaps, or it might be French. "I am glad always toshow the visions I have under my control to those who will appreciatethem."
I tried to stammer forth a few words of thanks and of praise for what Ihad seen.
"Did you recognize the strange scenes shown to you by these twoinstruments?" he asked, after bowing gently in acknowledgment of myawkward compliments.
Then I plucked up courage and made bold to express to him the surpriseI had felt, not only at the marvellous vividness with which the actionshad been repeated before my eyes, like life itself in form and in colorand in motion, but also at the startling fact that some of the things Ihad been shown were true and some were false. Some of them had happenedactually to real men and women of flesh and blood, while others werebut bits of vain imagining of those who tell tales as an art and as ameans of livelihood.
I expressed myself as best I could, clumsily, no doubt; but he listenedpatiently and with the smile of toleration on his lips.
"Yes," he answered, "I understand your surprise that the facts and thefictions are mingled together in these visions of mine as though therewas little to choose between them. You are not the first to wonder orto express that wonder; and the rest of them were young like you. Whenyou are as old as I am--when you have lived as long as I--when you haveseen as much of life as I--then you will know, as I know, that fact isoften inferior to fiction, and that it is often also one and the samething; for what might hare been is often quite as true as what actuallywas?"
I did not know what to say in answer to this, and so I said nothing.
"What would you say to me," he went on--and now it seemed to me thathis smile suggested rather pitying condescension than kindlytoleration--"what would you say to me, if I were to tell you that Imyself have seen all the many visions unrolled before you in theseinstruments? What would you say, if I declared that I had gazed on thedances of Salome and of Esmeralda? that I had beheld the combat ofAchilles and Hector and the mounted fight of Saladin and the Knight ofthe Leopard?"
"You are not Time himself?" I asked in amaze.
He laughed lightly, and without bitterness or mockery.
"No," he answered, promptly, "I am not Time himself. And why should youthink so? Have I a scythe? Have I an hour-glass? Have I a forelock? DoI look so very old, then?"
I examined him more carefully to answer this last question, and themore I scrutinized him the more difficult I found it to declare hisage. At first I had thought him to be forty, perhaps, or of a certaintyless than fifty. But now, though his hair was black, though his eye wasbright, though his step was firm, though his gestures were free andsweeping, I had my doubts; and I thought I could perceive, one afteranother, many impalpable signs of extreme old age.
Then, all at once, he grew restive under my fixed gaze.
"But it is not about me that we need to waste time now," he said,impatiently. "You have seen what two of my instruments contain; wouldyou like now to examine the contents of the other two?"
I answered in the affirmative.
"The two you have looked into are gratuitous," he continued. "For whatyou beheld in them there is no charge. But a sight of the visions inthe other two or in either one of them must be paid for. So far, youare welcome as my guest; but if you wish to see any more you must paythe price."
I asked what the charge was, as I thrust my hand into my pocket to becertain that I had my purse with me.
He saw my gesture, and he smiled once more.
"The visions I can set before you in those two instruments you have notyet looked into are visions of your own life," he said. "In that standthere," and he indicated one behind my back, "you can see five of themost important episodes of your past."
I withdrew my hand from my pocket. "I thank you," I said, "but I knowmy own past, and I have no wish to see it again, however cheap thespectacle."
"Then you will be more interested in the fourth of my instruments," hesaid, as he waved his thin, delicate hand towards the stand which stoodin front of me. "In this you can see your future!"
I made an involuntary step forward; and then, at a second thought, Ishrank back again.
"The price of this is not high," he continued, "and it is not payablein money."
"How, then, should I buy it?" I asked, doubtingly.
"In life!" he answered, gravely. "The vision of life must be paid forin life itself. For every ten years of the future which I may unrollbefore you here, you must assign me a year of life--twelve months--todo with as I will."
Strange as it seems to me now, I did not doubt that he could do as hedeclared. I hesitated, and then I fixed my resolve.
"Thank you," I said, and I saw that he was awaiting my decisioneagerly. "Thank you again for what I have already seen and for what youproffer me. But my past I have lived once, and there is no need to turnover again the leaves of that dead record. And the future I must faceas best I may, the more bravely, I think, that I do not know what itholds in store for me."
"The price is low," he urged.
"It must be lower still," I answered; "it might be nothing at all, andI should still decline. I cannot afford to be impatient now and toborrow knowledge of the future. I shall know all in good time."
He seemed not a little disappointed as I said this.
Then he made a final appeal: "Would you not wish to know even thematter of your end?"
"No," I answered. "That is no temptation to me, for whatever it may beI must find fortitude to undergo it somehow, whether I am to pass awayin my sleep in my bed, or whether I shall have to withstand the chancesof battle and murder and sudden death."
"That is your last word?" he inquired.
"I thank you again for what I have seen," I responded, bowing again;"but my decision is final."
"Then I will detain you no longer," he said, haughtily, and he walkedtowards the circling curtains and swept two of them aside. They drapedthemselves back, and I saw before me an opening like that through whichI had entered.
I followed him, and the curtains dropped behind me as I passed into theinsufficiently illuminated passage beyond. I thought that themysterious being with whom I had been conversing had preceded me, butbefore I had gone twenty paces I found that I was alone. I pushedahead, and my path twisted and turned on itself and rose and fellirregularly like that by means of which I had made my way into theunknown edifice. At last I picked my steps down winding stairs, and atthe foot I saw the outline of a door. I pushed it back, and I foundmyself in the open air.
I was in a broad street, and over my head an electric light suddenlyflared out and white-washed the pavement at my feet. At the corner atrain of the elevated railroad rushed by with a clattering roar and atrailing plume of white steam. Then a cable-car clanged past withincessant bangs upon its gong. Thus it was that I came back to theworld of actuality.
I turned to get my bearings, that I might find my way home again. I wasstanding almost in front of a shop, the windows of which were filledwith framed engravings.
One of these caught my eye, and I confess that I was surprised. It wasa portrait of a man--it was a portrait of the man with whom I had beentalking.
I went close to the window, that I might see it better. The electriclight emphasized the lines of the high-bred face, with its sombresearching eyes and the air of old-world breeding. There could be nodoubt whatever that the original of this portrait was the man from whomI had just parted. By the costume I knew that the original had lived inthe last century; and the legend beneath the head, engraved in aflowing script, asserted this to be a likeness of "_Monsieur le Comtede Cagliostro_."
(1895.)
Tales of Fantasy and Fact Page 2
