Up yonder, among the green holly and red
berries, is the Tumbler with his hands in his pockets, who wouldn't
lie down, but whenever he was put upon the floor, persisted in
rolling his fat body about, until he rolled himself still, and
brought those lobster eyes of his to bear upon me--when I affected
to laugh very much, but in my heart of hearts was extremely doubtful
of him. Close beside him is that infernal snuff-box, out of which
there sprang a demoniacal Counsellor in a black gown, with an
obnoxious head of hair, and a red cloth mouth, wide open, who was
not to be endured on any terms, but could not be put away either;
for he used suddenly, in a highly magnified state, to fly out of
Mammoth Snuff-boxes in dreams, when least expected. Nor is the frog
with cobbler's wax on his tail, far off; for there was no knowing
where he wouldn't jump; and when he flew over the candle, and came
upon one's hand with that spotted back--red on a green ground--he
was horrible. The cardboard lady in a blue-silk skirt, who was
stood up against the candlestick to dance, and whom I see on the
same branch, was milder, and was beautiful; but I can't say as much
for the larger cardboard man, who used to be hung against the wall
and pulled by a string; there was a sinister expression in that nose
of his; and when he got his legs round his neck (which he very often
did), he was ghastly, and not a creature to be alone with.
When did that dreadful Mask first look at me? Who put it on, and
why was I so frightened that the sight of it is an era in my life?
It is not a hideous visage in itself; it is even meant to be droll,
why then were its stolid features so intolerable? Surely not
because it hid the wearer's face. An apron would have done as much;
and though I should have preferred even the apron away, it would not
have been absolutely insupportable, like the mask. Was it the
immovability of the mask? The doll's face was immovable, but I was
not afraid of HER. Perhaps that fixed and set change coming over a
real face, infused into my quickened heart some remote suggestion
and dread of the universal change that is to come on every face, and
make it still? Nothing reconciled me to it. No drummers, from whom
proceeded a melancholy chirping on the turning of a handle; no
regiment of soldiers, with a mute band, taken out of a box, and
fitted, one by one, upon a stiff and lazy little set of lazy-tongs;
no old woman, made of wires and a brown-paper composition, cutting
up a pie for two small children; could give me a permanent comfort,
for a long time. Nor was it any satisfaction to be shown the Mask,
and see that it was made of paper, or to have it locked up and be
assured that no one wore it. The mere recollection of that fixed
face, the mere knowledge of its existence anywhere, was sufficient
to awake me in the night all perspiration and horror, with, "O I
know it's coming! O the mask!"
I never wondered what the dear old donkey with the panniers--there
he is! was made of, then! His hide was real to the touch, I
recollect. And the great black horse with the round red spots all
over him--the horse that I could even get upon--I never wondered
what had brought him to that strange condition, or thought that such
a horse was not commonly seen at Newmarket.
