厄舍古屋的倒塌读后感

Itwasadarkandsoundlessdayneartheendoftheyear,andcloudswerehanginglowintheheavens.AlldayIhadbeenridingonhorsebackthroughcountrywithlittlelifeorbeauty;andintheearlyevening,IcamewithinviewoftheHouseofUsher.

Idonotknowhowitwas—but,withmyfirstsightofthebuilding,asenseofheavysadnessfilledmyspirit.Ilookedatthescenebeforeme—atthehouseitself—atthegroundaroundit—atthecoldstonewallsofthebuilding—atitsemptyeye-likewindows—andatafewdeadtrees—Ilookedatthisscene,Isay,withacompletesadnessofsoul,whichwasnohealthy,earthlyfeeling.Therewasacoldness,asickeningoftheheart,inwhichIcoulddiscovernothingtolightentheweightIfelt.Whatwasit,Iaskedmyself,whatwasitthatwassofearful,sofrighteninginmyviewoftheHouseofUsher?ThiswasaquestiontowhichIcouldfindnoanswer.

Istoppedmyhorsebesidethebuilding,ontheedgeofadarkandquietlake.There,Icouldseereflectedinthewateraclearpictureofthedeadtrees,andofthehouseanditsempty,eye-likewindows.Iwasnowgoingtospendseveralweeksinthishouseofsadness—thishouseofgloom.ItsownerwasnamedRoderickUsher.Wehadbeenfriendswhenwewereboys;butmanyyearshadpassedsinceourlastmeeting.Aletterfromhimhadreachedme;awildletter,whichdemandedthatIreplybycomingtoseehim.Hewroteofanillnessofthebody—ofasicknessofthemind—andofadesiretoseeme—hisbestand,indeed,hisonlyfriend.Itwasthemannerinwhichallthiswassaid—itwastheheartinit—whichdidnotallowmetosayno.

Althoughasboyswehadbeentogether,Ireallyknewlittleaboutmyfriend.Iknew,however,thathisfamily,averyoldone,hadlongbeenfamousforitsunderstandingofallthearts,andformanyquietactsofkindnesstothepoor.Ihadlearned,too,thatthefamilyhadneverbeenalargeone,withmanybranches.Thenamehadpassedalwaysfromfathertoson,andwhenpeoplespokeofthe"HouseofUsher,"theyincludedboththefamilyandthefamilyhome.

Iagainlookedupfromthepictureofthehousereflectedinthelaketothehouseitself.Astrangeideagrewinmymind—anideasostrangethatItellitonlytoshowtheforceofthefeelingswhichlaidtheirweightonme.Ireallybelievedthataroundthewholehouse,andthegroundaroundit,theairitselfwasdifferent.Itwasnottheairofheaven.Itrosefromthedead,decayingtrees,fromthegraywalls,andthequietlake.Itwasasickly,unhealthyairthatIcouldsee,slow-moving,heavy,andgray.

Shakingofffrommyspiritwhatmusthavebeenadream,Ilookedmorecarefullyatthebuildingitself.Themostnoticeablethingaboutitseemedtobeitsgreatage.Noneofthewallshadfallen,yetthestonesappearedtobeinaconditionofadvanceddecay.Perhapsthecarefuleyewouldhavediscoveredthebeginningofabreakinthefrontofthebuilding,acrackmakingitswayfromthetopdownthewalluntilitbecamelostinthedarkwatersofthelake.

Irodeoverashortbridgetothehouse.Amanwhoworkedinthehouse—aservant—tookmyhorse,andIentered.Anotherservant,ofquietstep,ledmewithoutawordthroughmanydarkturningstotheroomofhismaster.MuchthatImetonthewayadded,Idonotknowhow,tothestrangenessofwhichIhavealreadyspoken.Whiletheobjectsaroundme—thedarkwallcoverings,theblacknessofthefloors,andthethingsbroughthomefromlongforgottenwars—whilethesethingswerelikethethingsIhadknownsinceIwasababy—whileIadmittedthatallthiswasonlywhatIhadexpected—Iwasstillsurprisedatthestrangeideaswhichgrewinmymindfromthesesimplethings.

TheroomIcameintowasverylargeandhigh.Thewindowswerehigh,andpointedatthetop,andsofarabovetheblackfloorthattheywerequiteoutofreach.Onlyalittlelight,redincolor,madeitswaythroughtheglass,andservedtolightenthenearerandlargerobjects.Myeyes,however,triedandfailedtoseeintothefar,highcornersoftheroom.Darkcoveringshunguponthewalls.Themanychairsandtableshadbeenusedforalong,longtime.Bookslayaroundtheroom,butcouldgiveitnosenseoflife.Ifeltsadnesshangingovereverything.Noescapefromthisdeep,coldgloomseemedpossible.

AsIenteredtheroom,Usherstoodupfromwherehehadbeenlyingandmetmewithawarmth,whichatfirstIcouldnotbelievewasreal.Alook,however,athisfacetoldmethateverywordhespokewastrue.

Wesatdown;andforsomemoments,whilehesaidnothing,Ilookedathimwithafeelingofsadsurprise.Surely,nomanhadeverbeforechangedasRoderickUsherhad!Couldthisbethefriendofmyearlyyears?Itistruethathisfacehadalwaysbeenunusual.Hehadgray-whiteskin;eyeslargeandfulloflight;lipsnotbrightincolor,butofabeautifulshape;awell-shapednose;hairofgreatsoftness—afacethatwasnoteasytoforget.AndnowtheincreaseinthisstrangenessofhisfacehadcausedsogreatachangethatIalmostdidnotknowhim.Thehorriblewhiteofhisskin,andthestrangelightinhiseyes,surprisedmeandevenmademeafraid.Hishairhadbeenallowedtogrow,andinitssoftnessitdidnotfallaroundhisface,butseemedtolieupontheair.Icouldnot,evenwithaneffort,seeinmyfriendtheappearanceofasimplehumanbeing.

Inhismanner,Isawatonce,changescameandwent;andIsoonfoundthatthisresultedfromhisattempttoquietaverygreatnervousness.Ihadindeedbeenpreparedforsomethinglikethis,partlybyhisletterandpartlybyrememberinghimasaboy.Hisactionswerefirsttooquickandthentooquiet.Sometimeshisvoice,slowandtremblingwithfear,quicklychangedtoastrong,heavy,carefullyspaced,tooperfectlycontrolledmanner.Itwasinthismannerthathespokeofthepurposeofmyvisit,ofhisdesiretoseeme,andofthedeepdelightandstrengthheexpectedmetogivehim.Hetoldmewhathebelievedtobethenatureofhisillness.Itwas,hesaid,afamilysickness,andonefromwhichhecouldnothopetogrowbetter—butitwas,headdedatonce,onlyanervousillness,whichwouldwithoutdoubtsoonpassaway.Itshoweditselfinanumberofstrangefeelings.Someofthese,ashetoldmeofthem,interestedmebutwerebeyondmyunderstanding;perhapsthewayinwhichhetoldmeofthemaddedtotheirstrangeness.Hesufferedmuchfromasicklyincreaseinthefeelingofallhissenses;hecouldeatonlythemosttastelessfood;allflowerssmelledtoostronglyforhisnose;hiseyeswerehurtbyevenalittlelight;andtherewerefewsoundswhichdidnotfillhimwithhorror.Acertainkindofsickfearwascompletelyhismaster.

"Ishalldie,"hesaid."Ishalldie!Imustdieofthisfool'ssickness.Inthisway,thiswayandnootherway,Ishallbelost.Ifearwhatwillhappeninthefuture,notforwhathappens,butfortheresultofwhathappens.Ihave,indeed,nofearofpain,butonlyfearofitsresult—ofterror!IfeelthatmytimewillsoonarrivewhenImustlosemylife,andmymind,andmysoul,together,insomelastbattlewiththathorribleenemy:fear!"

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