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Edgar Allan Poe
Boston, 1809 - 1849
For the most
wild, yet most homely
narrative which I am about to pen, I
neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it,
in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence.
Yet, mad am I not--and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die,
and today I would unburden my soul. My immediate
purpose is to place before the world,
plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household
events. In their consequences, these events have terrified --have
tortured--have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them.
To me, they have presented little but horror--to many they will
seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some
intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm
to the commonplace --some intellect more calm, more
logical, and far less excitable than my
own, which will perceive, in the
circumstances I detail with awe, nothing
more than an ordinary succession
of very natural causes and effects.
From my infancy
I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness
of heart was even so conspicuous as to make
me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of
animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With
these I spent
most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding
and caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth,
and, in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure.
To
those who have cherished an affection for a faithful
and sagacious dog,
I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature
of the intensity
of the gratification thus derivable. There is something
in the unselfish
and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly
to the heart of
him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry
friendship and
gossamer fidelity of mere Man.
I married early,
and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my
own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets,
she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most
agreeable kind.
We had birds, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small
monkey, and a cat.
This latter
was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely
black, and sagacious to an astonishing
degree. In speaking of his
intelligence, my wife, who at heart
was not a little tinctured with
superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular
notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in
disguise. Not that she was ever
serious upon this point --and I
mention the matter at all for no better
reason than that it happens, just
now, to be remembered.
Pluto--this
was the cat's name--was my favourite pet and playmate.
I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about
the house.
It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him
from following me
through the streets.
Our friendship
lasted, in this manner, for several years, during
which my general temperament and
character--through the instrumentality
of the fiend Intemperance--had (I
blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I
grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings
of others. I suffered myself to use
intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered
her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change
in my
disposition. I not only neglected, but ill-used them.
For Pluto, however,
I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from
maltreating him, as I
made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey,
or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my
way. But my
disease grew upon me--for what disease is like alcohol?--and
at length
even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently
somewhat peevish--even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill-temper.
One night,
returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my
haunts about town, I fancied that
the cat avoided my presence. I seized
him; when, in his fright at my violence,
he inflicted a slight wound upon
my hand with his teeth. The fury
of a demon instantly possessed me.
I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at
once, to take its
flight from my body; and a more
than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every
fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat pocket a pen-
knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat,
and deliberately cut
one of its eyes from the socket!
I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.
When reason
returned with the morning--when I had slept off the
fumes of the night's debauch--I experienced a sentiment
half of horror,
half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty;
but it was, at
best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained
untouched.
I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine
all memory of
the deed.
In the meantime
the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true,
a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He
went about the house as usual, but, as might be
expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had
so much of my
old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident
dislike on the part
of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling
soon gave
place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final
and irrevocable
overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit
philosophy
takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul
lives, than I am
that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of
the human heart
--one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments,
which give
direction to the character of man. Who has not, a hundred
times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other
reason than
because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual
inclination,
in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which
is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness,
I say,
came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable
longing of the soul
to vex itself--to offer violence to its own nature--to
do wrong for the
wrong's sake only--that urged me to continue and finally
to consummate
the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute.
One morning, in
cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung
it to the limb of a tree--hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes,
and with the bitterest remorse at my heart--hung it because I knew that
it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence--hung
it because I
knew that in so doing I was committing a sin--a deadly
sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it--if such a
thing were possible--
even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most
Merciful and
Most Terrible God.
On the night
of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was
aroused from sleep by the cry of 'Fire!' The curtains
of my bed were
in flames. The whole house was blazing. It was with great
difficulty that
my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from
the conflagration.
The destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth
was swallowed
up, and I resigned myself thence forward to despair.
I am above
the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of
cause and effect between the disaster
and the atrocity. But I am detailing
a chain of facts, and wish not to
leave even a possible link imperfect.
On the day succeeding the fire,
I visited the ruins. The walls, with one
exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in
a compartment
wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of
the house, and
against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering
had here,
in great measure, resisted the action of the fire--a
fact which I attributed
to its having been recently spread. About this wall a
dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular
portion
of it with very minute and eager attention. The words
'strange!' 'singular!'
and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity.
I approached and saw,
as if graven in bas-relief upon the white surface, the
figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly
marvellous. There was a rope about the animal's neck.
When I first
beheld this apparition--for I could scarcely regard it as less--my wonder
and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection
came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung
in a garden
adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden
had been immediately filled by the crowd--by some one of whom the animal
must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through
an open window,
into my chamber. This had probably been done with the
view of arousing
me from sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed
the victim of
my cruelty into the substance of the freshly-spread plaster;
the lime of
which, with the flames and the ammonia from the carcass,
had then accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.
Although I
thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to
my conscience, for the startling fact just detailed,
it did not the less fail
to make a deep impression upon my fancy. For months I
could not rid
myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period,
there came
back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but
was not, remorse.
I went so far as to regret theloss of the animal, and
to look about me,
among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented,
for another pet
of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance,
with which to supply its place.
One night as
I sat, half-stupefied, in a den of more than infamy,
my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object,
reposing upon
the head of one of the immense hogsheads
of gin, or of rum, which
constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had
been looking
steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes,
and what now
caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner
perceived the
object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with
my hand. It was
a black cat--a very large one-- fully as large as Pluto,
and closely
resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not
a white hair
upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large,
although indefinite, splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region
of the breast.
Upon my touching
him, he immediately arose, purred loudly,
rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my
notice. This,
then, was the very creature of which
I was in search. I at once offered
to purchase it of the landlord;
but this person made no claim to it--knew
nothing of it--had never seen it before.
I continued
my caresses, and when I prepared to go home, the
animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted
it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When
it reached
the house it domesticated itself at once, and became
immediately a
great favourite with my wife.
For my own
part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me.
This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated;
but--I know not
how or why it was--its evident fondness for myself rather
disgusted and annoyed me. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and
annoyance
rose into the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature;
a certain sense
of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty,
preventing me from physically abusing it. I did not,
for some weeks,
strike, or otherwise violently ill- use it; but gradually--very
gradually--
I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and
to flee silently
from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.
What added,
no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery,
on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto,
it also had been
deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however,
only endeared
it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed,
in a high degree,
that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing
trait,
and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.
With my aversion
to this cat, however, its partiality for myself
seemed to increase. It followed
my footsteps with a pertinacity which it
would be difficult to make the reader
comprehend. Whenever I sat, it
would crouch beneath my chair, or
spring upon my knees, covering me
with its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk, it would
get between my
feet, and thus nearly throw me down,
or, fastening its long and sharp
claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast.
At such times, although I longed to destroy it with
a blow, I was yet withheld from so
doing, partly by a memory of my
former crime, but chiefly--let me
confess it at once-- by absolute
dread of the beast.
This dread
was not exactly a dread of physical evil--and yet I should
be at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost
ashamed to own--yes, even in this felon's cell, I am almost ashamed to
own--that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had
been heightened by one
of the merest chimeras it would be possible to conceive.
My wife had
called my attention, more than once, to the character
of the mark of
white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted
the sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had
destroyed. The
reader will remember that this mark, although large,
had been originally
very indefinite; but, by slow degrees--degrees nearly
imperceptible, and
which for a long time my reason struggled to reject as
fanciful--it had, at length, resumed a rigorous distinctness of outline.
It was now the representation of an object that I shudder to name--and
for this, above
all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself
of the monster
had I dared--it was now, I say, the image of a hideous--of
a ghastly
thing--of the GALLOWS!--oh, mournful and terrible engine
of horror
and of crime--of agony and death!
And now was
I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere humanity. And a brute
beast--whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed--a brute beast to work
out for me--for me, a man, fashioned
in the image of the High God--so much of insufferable
woe! Alas!
neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of rest
any more!
During the former the creature left me no moment alone;
and, in the
latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable
fear, to find the hot
breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight--an
incarnate
nightmare that I had no power to shake off--incumbent
eternally upon
my heart!
Beneath the
pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant
of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became
my sole intimates--the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness
of my
usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of
all mankind; while,
from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts
of a fury to
which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining
wife, alas!
was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.
One day she
accompanied me, upon some household errand, into
the cellar of the old building which
our poverty compelled us to inhabit.
The cat followed me down the steep
stairs, and, nearly throwing me
headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe,
and forgetting,
in my wrath, the childish dread
which had hitherto stayed my hand, I
aimed a blow at the animal which,
of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished.
But this blow was arrested by the hand
of my wife. Goaded, by the interference,
into a rage more than demoniacal,
I withdrew my arm from her grasp, and buried the axe
in her brain. She
fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.
This hideous
murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with
entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body.
I knew that I could
not remove it from the house, either by day or by night,
without the risk
of being observed by the neighbours. Many projects entered
my mind. At
one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute
fragments and destroying them by fire. At another, I resolved to dig a
grave for it in the
floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting
it into the well in the yard--about packing it in a box, as if merchandise,
with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the
house. Finally I
hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than
either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar--as the monks
of the Middle Ages
are recorded to have walled up their victims.
For a purpose
such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls
were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered
throughout with
a rough plaster, which the dampness
of the atmosphere had prevented
from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection,
caused
by a false chimney, or fire-place, that had been filled
up and made to resemble the rest of the cellar. I made no doubt that I
could readily
displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse,
and wall the whole up
as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious.
And in this
calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar
I easily dislodged the bricks, and
having carefully deposited the body
against the inner wall, I propped it in that position,
while, with little
trouble, I relaid the whole structure as it originally
stood. Having
procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible
precaution, I
prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from
the old, and
with this I very carefully went over the new brickwork.
When I had
finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall
did not present the
slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish
on the floor
was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around
triumphantly, and
said to myself, 'Here at least, then, my labour has not
been in vain.'
My next step
was to look for the beast which had been the cause
of so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly
resolved to put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it at the moment,
there could have
been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty
animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous
anger, and forbore to present itself
in my present mood. It is impossible to describe, or
to imagine, the deep,
the blissful sense of relief which
the absence of the detested creature
occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance
during the night
--and thus for one night at least, since its introduction
into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the
burden of murder
upon my soul!
The second
and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came
not. Once again I breathed as a free man. The monster,
in terror, had
fled the premises for ever! I should behold it no more!
My happiness
was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but
little. Some
few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily
answered.
Even a search had been instituted--but of course nothing
was to be discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured.
Upon the fourth
day of the assassination, a party of the police came,
very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again
to make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the
inscrutability of
my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever.
The officers bade me accompany them in their search. They left no nook
or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended
into
the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat
calmly as that of one
who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end
to end. I folded
my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and from.
The police
were thoroughly satisfied, and prepared to depart. The
glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned
to say if but
one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure
their assurance
of my guiltlessness.
'Gentlemen,'
I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, 'I delight
to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health,
and a little more courtesy. By-the-by, gentlemen, this--this is a very
well-constructed
house.' (In the rabid desire to say something easily,
I scarcely knew
what I uttered at all.) 'I may say an excellently well-constructed
house.
These walls--are you going, gentlemen?--these walls are
solidly put
together'; and here, through the mere frenzy of bravado,
I rapped
heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that
very portion
of the brickwork behind which stood the corpse of the
wife of my
bosom.
But may God
shield and deliver me from the fangs on the Arch-
Fiend! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk
into silence,
than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb!--by
a cry, at
first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child,
and then quickly
swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream,
half of horror and
half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of
hell, conjointly
from the throats of the damned in their agony and of
the demons that
exult in the damnation.
Of my own thoughts
it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to
the opposite wall. For one instant the party upon the
stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In
the next, a
dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily.
The corpse,
already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood
erect before the
eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended
mouth and
solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft
had seduced me
into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned
me to the
hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb!
