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gloom　which　generally　settles　on　my　soul　when　I　go　home　at　night。



I　am　in　the　Law；　but　not　of　it。　　I　can't　exactly　make　out　what　it

means。　　I　sit　in　Westminster　Hall　sometimes　（in　character）　from　ten

to　four；　and　when　I　go　out　of　Court；　I　don't　know　whether　I　am

standing　on　my　wig　or　my　boots。



It　appears　to　me　（I　mention　this　in　confidence）　as　if　there　were

too　much　talk　and　too　much　law　…　as　if　some　grains　of　truth　were

started　overboard　into　a　tempestuous　sea　of　chaff。



All　this　may　make　me　mystical。　　Still；　I　am　confident　that　what　I

am　going　to　describe　myself　as　having　seen　and　heard；　I　actually

did　see　and　hear。



It　is　necessary　that　I　should　observe　that　I　have　a　great　delight

in　pictures。　　I　am　no　painter　myself；　but　I　have　studied　pictures

and　written　about　them。　　I　have　seen　all　the　most　famous　pictures

in　the　world；　my　education　and　reading　have　been　sufficiently

general　to　possess　me　beforehand　with　a　knowledge　of　most　of　the

subjects　to　which　a　Painter　is　likely　to　have　recourse；　and；

although　I　might　be　in　some　doubt　as　to　the　rightful　fashion　of　the

scabbard　of　King　Lear's　sword；　for　instance；　I　think　I　should　know

King　Lear　tolerably　well；　if　I　happened　to　meet　with　him。



I　go　to　all　the　Modern　Exhibitions　every　season；　and　of　course　I

revere　the　Royal　Academy。　　I　stand　by　its　forty　Academical　articles

almost　as　firmly　as　I　stand　by　the　thirty…nine　Articles　of　the

Church　of　England。　　I　am　convinced　that　in　neither　case　could　there

be；　by　any　rightful　possibility；　one　article　more　or　less。



It　is　now　exactly　three　years　…　three　years　ago；　this　very　month　…

since　I　went　from　Westminster　to　the　Temple；　one　Thursday

afternoon；　in　a　cheap　steamboat。　　The　sky　was　black；　when　I

imprudently　walked　on　board。　　It　began　to　thunder　and　lighten

immediately　afterwards；　and　the　rain　poured　down　in　torrents。　　The

deck　seeming　to　smoke　with　the　wet；　I　went　below；　but　so　many

passengers　were　there；　smoking　too；　that　I　came　up　again；　and

buttoning　my　pea…coat；　and　standing　in　the　shadow　of　the　paddle…

box；　stood　as　upright　as　I　could；　and　made　the　best　of　it。



It　was　at　this　moment　that　I　first　beheld　the　terrible　Being；　who

is　the　subject　of　my　present　recollections。



Standing　against　the　funnel；　apparently　with　the　intention　of

drying　himself　by　the　heat　as　fast　as　he　got　wet；　was　a　shabby　man

in　threadbare　black；　and　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets；　who

fascinated　me　from　the　memorable　instant　when　I　caught　his　eye。



Where　had　I　caught　that　eye　before？　　Who　was　he？　　Why　did　I　connect

him；　all　at　once；　with　the　Vicar　of　Wakefield；　Alfred　the　Great；

Gil　Blas；　Charles　the　Second；　Joseph　and　his　Brethren；　the　Fairy

Queen；　Tom　Jones；　the　Decameron　of　Boccaccio；　Tam　O'Shanter；　the

Marriage　of　the　Doge　of　Venice　with　the　Adriatic；　and　the　Great

Plague　of　London？　　Why；　when　he　bent　one　leg；　and　placed　one　hand

upon　the　back　of　the　seat　near　him；　did　my　mind　associate　him

wildly　with　the　words；　'Number　one　hundred　and　forty…two；　Portrait

of　a　gentleman'？　　Could　it　be　that　I　was　going　mad？



I　looked　at　him　again；　and　now　I　could　have　taken　my　affidavit　that

he　belonged　to　the　Vicar　of　Wakefield's　family。　　Whether　he　was　the

Vicar；　or　Moses；　or　Mr。　Burchill；　or　the　Squire；　or　a

conglomeration　of　all　four；　I　knew　not；　but　I　was　impelled　to　seize

him　by　the　throat；　and　charge　him　with　being；　in　some　fell　way；

connected　with　the　Primrose　blood。　　He　looked　up　at　the　rain；　and

then　…　oh　Heaven！　…　he　became　Saint　John。　　He　folded　his　arms；

resigning　himself　to　the　weather；　and　I　was　frantically　inclined　to

address　him　as　the　Spectator；　and　firmly　demand　to　know　what　he　had

done　with　Sir　Roger　de　Coverley。



The　frightful　suspicion　that　I　was　becoming　deranged；　returned　upon

me　with　redoubled　force。　　Meantime；　this　awful　stranger；

inexplicably　linked　to　my　distress；　stood　drying　himself　at　the

funnel；　and　ever；　as　the　steam　rose　from　his　clothes；　diffusing　a

mist　around　him；　I　saw　through　the　ghostly　medium　all　the　people　I

have　mentioned；　and　a　score　more；　sacred　and　profane。



I　am　conscious　of　a　dreadful　inclination　that　stole　upon　me；　as　it

thundered　and　lightened；　to　grapple　with　this　man；　or　demon；　and

plunge　him　over　the　side。　　But；　I　constrained　myself　…　I　know　not

how　…　to　speak　to　him；　and　in　a　pause　of　the　storm；　I　crossed　the

deck；　and　said：



'What　are　you？'



He　replied；　hoarsely；　'A　Model。'



'A　what？'　said　I。



'A　Model；'　he　replied。　　'I　sets　to　the　profession　for　a　bob　a…

hour。'　　（All　through　this　narrative　I　give　his　own　words；　which　are

indelibly　imprinted　on　my　memory。）



The　relief　which　this　disclosure　gave　me；　the　exquisite　delight　of

the　restoration　of　my　confidence　in　my　own　sanity；　I　cannot

describe。　　I　should　have　fallen　on　his　neck；　but　for　the

consciousness　of　being　observed　by　the　man　at　the　wheel。



'You　then；'　said　I；　shaking　him　so　warmly　by　the　hand；　that　I　wrung

the　rain　out　of　his　coat…cuff；　'are　the　gentleman　whom　I　have　so

frequently　contemplated；　in　connection　with　a　high…backed　chair

with　a　red　cushion；　and　a　table　with　twisted　legs。'



'I　am　that　Model；'　he　rejoined　moodily；　'and　I　wish　I　was　anything

else。'



'Say　not　so；'　I　returned。　　'I　have　seen　you　in　the　society　of　many

beautiful　young　women；'　as　in　truth　I　had；　and　always　（I　now

remember）　in　the　act　of　making　the　most　of　his　legs。



'No　doubt；'　said　he。　　'And　you've　seen　me　along　with　warses　of

flowers；　and　any　number　of　table…kivers；　and　antique　cabinets；　and

warious　gammon。'



'Sir？'　said　I。



'And　warious　gammon；'　he　repeated；　in　a　louder　voice。　　'You　might

have　seen　me　in　armour；　too；　if　you　had　looked　sharp。　　Blessed　if　I

ha'n't　stood　in　half　the　suits　of　armour　as　ever　came　out　of

Pratt's　shop：　and　sat；　for　weeks　together；　a…eating　nothing；　out　of

half　the　gold　and　silver　dishes　as　has　ever　been　lent　for　the

purpose　out　of　Storrses；　and　Mortimerses；　or　Garrardses；　and

Davenportseseses。'



Excited；　as　it　appeared；　by　a　sense　of　injury；　I　thought　he　would

never　have　found　an　end　for　the　last　word。　　But；　at　length　it

rolled　sullenly　away　with　the　thunder。



'Pardon　me；'　said　I；　'you　are　a　well…favoured；　well…made　man；　and

yet　…　forgive　me　…　I　find；　on　examining　my　mind；　that　I　associate

you　with　…　that　my　recollection　indistinctly　makes　you；　in　short　…

excuse　me　…　a　kind　of　powerful　monster。'



'It　would　be　a　wonder　if　it　didn't；'　he　said。　　'Do　you　know　what　my

points　are？'



'No；'　said　I。



'My　throat　and　my　legs；'　said　he。　　'When　I　don't　set　for　a　head；　I

mostly　sets　for　a　throat　and　a　pair　of　legs。　　Now；　granted　you　was

a　painter；　and　was　to　work　at　my　throat　for　a　week　together；　I

suppose　you'd　see　a　lot　of　lumps　and　bumps　there；　that　would　never

be　there　at　all；　if　you　looked　at　me；　complete；　instead　of　only　my

throat。　　Wouldn't　you？'



'Probably；'　said　I；　surveying　him。



'Why；　it　stands　to　reason；'　said　the　Model。　　'Work　another　week　at

my　legs；　and　it'll　be　the　same　thing。　　You'll　make　'em　out　as

knotty　and　as　knobby；　at　last；　as　if　they　was　the　trunks　of　two　old

trees。　　Then；　take　and　stick　my　legs　and　throat　on　to　another　man's

body；　and　you'll　make　a　reg'lar　monster。　　And　that's　the　way　the

public　gets　their　reg'lar　monsters；　every　first　Monday　in　May；　when

the　Royal　Academy　Exhibition　opens。'



'You　are　a　critic；'　said　I；　with　an　air　of　deference。



'I'm　in　an　uncommon　ill　humour；　if　that's　it；'　rejoined　the　Model；

with　great　indignation。　　'As　if　it　warn't　bad　enough　for　a　bob　a…

hour；　for　a　man　to　be　mixing　himself　up　with　that　there　jolly　old

furniter　that　one　'ud　think　the　public　know'd　the　wery　nails　in　by

this　time　…　or　to　be　putting　on　greasy　old　'ats　and　cloaks；　and

playing　tambourines　in　the　Bay　o'　Naples；　with　Wesuvius　a　smokin'

according　to　pattern　in　the　background；　and　the　wines　a　bearing

wonderful　in　the　middle　distance　…　or　to　be　unpolitely　kicking　up

his　legs　among　a　lot　o'　gals；　with　no　reason　whatever　in　his　mind

but　to　show　'em　…　as　if　this　warn't　bad　enough；　I'm　to　go　and　be

thrown　out　of　employment　too！'



'Surely　no！'　said　I。



'Surely　yes；'　said　the　indignant　Model。　　'BUT　I'LL　GROW　ONE。'



The　gloomy　and　threatening　manner　in　which　he　muttered　the　last

words；　can　never　be　effaced　from　my　remembrance。　　My　blood　ran

cold。



I　asked　of　myself；　what　was　it　that　this　desperate　Being　was

resolved　to　grow。　　My　breast　made　no　response。



I　ventured　to　implore　him　to　explain　his　meaning。　　With　a　scornful

laugh；　he　uttered　this　dark　prophecy：



'I'LL　GROW　ONE。　　AND；　MARK　MY　WORDS；　IT　SHALL　HAUNT　YOU！'



We　parted　in　the　storm；　after　I　had　forced　half…a…crown　on　his

acceptance；　with　a　trembling　hand。　　I　conclude　that　something

supernatural　happened　to　the　steamboat；　as　it　bore　his　reeking

figure　down　the　river；　but　it　never　got　into　the　papers。



Two　years　elapsed；　during　which　I　followed　my　profession　without

any　vicissitudes；　never　holding　so　much　as　a　motion；　of　course。　　At

the　expiration　of　that　period；　I　found　myself　making　my　way　home　to

the　Temple；　one　night；　in　precisely　such　another　storm　of　thunder

and　lightning　as　that　by　which　I　had　been　overtaken　on　board　the

steamboat　…　except　that　this　storm；　bursting　over　the　town　at

midnight；　was　rendered　much　more　awful　by　the　darkness　and　the

hour。



As　I　turned　into　my　court；　I　really　thought　a　thunderbolt　would

fall；　and　plough　the　pavement　up。　　Every　brick　and　stone　in　the

place　seemed　to　have　an　echo　of　its　own　for　the　thunder。　　The

waterspouts　were　overcharged；　and　the　rain　came　tearing　down　from

the　house…tops　as　if　they　had　been　mountain…tops。



Mrs。　Parkins；　my　laundress　…　wife　of　Parkins　the　porter；　then　newly

dead　of　a　dropsy　…　had　particular　instructions　to　place　a　bedroom

candle　and　a　match　under　the　staircase　lamp　on　my　landing；　in　order

that　I　might　light　my　candle　there；　whenever　I　came　h