Into it,
and musing upon the odd stories I had heard; until, partly overcome by
the fatigue of the day's hunting, and partly by the wine and wassail of
mine host, I fell asleep in my chair.
The uneasiness of my position made my slumber troubled, and laid me at
the mercy of all kinds of wild and fearful dreams; now it was that my
perfidious dinner and supper rose in rebellion against my peace. I was
hag-ridden by a fat saddle of mutton; a plum pudding weighed like lead
upon my conscience; the merry thought of a capon filled me with
horrible suggestions; and a devilled leg of a turkey stalked in all
kinds of diabolical shapes through my imagination. In short, I had a
violent fit of the nightmare. Some strange indefinite evil seemed
hanging over me that I could not avert; something terrible and
loathsome oppressed me that I could not shake off. I was conscious of
being asleep, and strove to rouse myself, but every effort redoubled
the evil; until gasping, struggling, almost strangling, I suddenly
sprang bolt upright in my chair, and awoke.
The light on the mantel-piece had burnt low, and the wick was divided;
there was a great winding sheet made by the dripping wax, on the side
towards me. The disordered taper emitted a broad flaring flame, and
threw a strong light on a painting over the fire-place, which I had not
hitherto observed.
It consisted merely of a head, or rather a face, that appeared to be
staring full upon me, and with an expression that was startling. It was
without a frame, and at the first glance I could hardly persuade myself
that it was not a real face, thrusting itself out of the dark oaken
pannel. I sat in my chair gazing at it, and the more I gazed the more
it disquieted me. I had never before been affected in the same way by
any painting. The emotions it caused were strange and indefinite. They
were something like what I have heard ascribed to the eyes of the
basilisk; or like that mysterious influence in reptiles termed
fascination. I passed my hand over my eyes several times, as if seeking
instinctively to brush away this allusion - in vain - they instantly
reverted to the picture, and its chilling, creeping influence over my
flesh was redoubled.
I looked around the room on other pictures, either to divert my
attention, or to see whether the same effect would be produced by them.
Some of them were grim enough to produce the effect, if the mere
grimness of the painting produced it - no such thing.
