Tales and poems

THE TALES AND POEMS

OF

EDGAR ALLAN POE

WITH BIOGRAPHICAL ESSAY

M

JOHN H. INGRAM

ti (Drigiual (Otcljings, £wc }3l)otogramrres
anb a 2Ccu) (Ertctycfo Portrait

IN Six VOLUMES

VOL. i
TALES OF IMAGINATION

_
PHILADELPHIA

GEORGE BARRIE, PUBLISHER

P5;
Eo.

PREFACE.

Several new features in this collection of Edgar
Allan Poe's Tales and Poems claim attention.
This is the first occasion on which the Tales can
be said to have been illustrated, as it is, also, the
first time in which any real attempt has been made
to classify them : the Tales of Imagination have
now been separated — to their manifest advantage
— from the other stories, the Tales of Humor, the
Miscellaneous Stories and the Poems. A very
important feature in this edition is the lengthy
fragment, " The Journal of Julius Rodman : "
this romance will be quite new to Poe's admirers,
as it has not appeared in any previous collection.
Among the Poems, which have now been chrono
logically arranged, some new pieces will, also, be
found. All the writings included in this edition
have been thoroughly corrected and revised, and,

(v)

M rt i /O

vi PREFACE.

generally, from their author's amended copies.
Attention may, likewise, be called to the circum
stance that the Introductory Essay deals only
with the facts, and quite ignores the numerous
fictions of Poe's career.

m

THE GOLD -BUG

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

TALES OF IMAGINATION.

PAGE.

THE GOLD-BUG 1

-4 BERENICE 49

j. ELEONORA 61

i

LlGEIA 69

1 •

MORELLA . . . . . 9^

METZENGERSTEIN ... ... 99

* THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE Ill

-^THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER* 1 21

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM 147

THE MASK OF THE RED DEATH ^ 11)7

_-j- THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO 177

MESMERIC REVELATION 187

THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR . 201

IVIs. FOUND IN A BOTTLE 215

" A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM 229

THE BLACK CAT 251

THE ASSIGNATION 265

"XCHE TELL-TALE HEART 281

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOL. I.

PAGE.

THE GOLD-BUG,

Photogravure after Herpin Frontispiece

THE GOLD-BUG,

Photogravure after Ferat 24

BERENICE,

Drawn and etched by Wogel 49

LIGKIA,

Drawn and etched by Wogel 69

METZENGERSTEIN,

Drawn and etched by Wogel 99

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER,

Etched by E. Abot after Wogel 121

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM,

Photogravure after Ferat 147

THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR,

Drawn and etched by Wogel 201

Ms. FOUND IN A BOTTLE,

Drawn and etched by Wogel 215

THE BLACK CAT,

Photogravure after Meyer ........ 251

TALES OF IMAGINATION

TALES OF IMAGINATION.

THE GOLD-BUG.

What ho ! what ho ! this fellow is dancing mad !
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.

— All in the Wrong.

Many years ago I contracted an intimacy with a Mr.
William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot
family and had once been wealthy ; but a series of
misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the
mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left
New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took
up his residence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston,
South Carolina.

This Island is a very singular one. It consists of
little else than sea sand, and is about three miles
long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a
mile. It is separated from the mainland by a scarcely
perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness
of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen.
The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at
least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be
seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie
stands, and where are some miserable frame build
ings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from
Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the
Vol. I.-l.

2 THE GOLD-BUG.

bristly palmetto ; but the whole island, with the excep
tion of this western point, and a line of hard, white
beach on the sea-coast, is covered with a dense under
growth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the
horticulturists of England. The shrub here often
attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms
an almost impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with
its fragrance.

In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from
the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand
had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when
I first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This
soon ripened into friendship, for there was much in
the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him
well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but in
fected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods
of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with
him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief
amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering
along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of
shells or entomological specimens ; — his collection of
the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm.
In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an
old negro called Jupiter, who had been manumitted
before the reverses of the family, but who could be in
duced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon
what he considered his right of attendance upon the
footsteps of his young " Massa Will." It is not im
probable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him
to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to
instill this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the
supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are
seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a

THE GOLD-BUG. 3

rare event indeed when a fire is considered necessary.
About the middle of October, 18 — , there occurred,
however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before
sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to
the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several
weeks — my residence being at that time in Charleston,
a distance of nine miles from the island, while the
facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind
those of the present day. Upon reaching the hut I
rapped, as was my custom, and getting no reply, sought
for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked the
door and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the
hearth. It was a novelty and by no means an un
grateful one. I threw off an overcoat and took an arm
chair by the crackling logs and awaited patiently the
arrival of my hosts.

Soon after dark they arrived and gave me a most
cordial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear,
bustled about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper.
Legrand was in one of his fits — how else shall I term
them? — of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown
bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he
had hunted down and secured, with Jupiter's assist
ance, a scarabceus which he believed to be totally new,
but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion
on the morrow.

"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my
hands over the blaze, and wishing the whole tribe of
scarabcei at the devil.

" Ah, if I had only known you were here !" said
Legrand, " but its so long since I saw you ; and how
could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very
night of all others? As I was coming home I met
Lieutenant G , from the fort and very foolishly

4 THE GOLD-BUG.

I lent him the bug ; so it will be impossible for you to
see it until the morning. Stay here to-night, and I
will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest
thing in creation ! "

" What !— sunrise ! "

" Nonsense ! no ! — the bug. It is of a brilliant gold
color — about the size of a large hickory-nut — with
two jet black spots near one extremity of the back,
and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The
antennw are "

" Dcy ain't no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a
tellin on you," here interrupted Jupiter ; " de bug is
a goole bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep
him wing — neber feel half so hebby a bug in my life."

" Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, some
what more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case
demanded, "is that any reason for your letting the
birds burn? The color" — here he turned to me —
"is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea.
You never saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than
the scales emit — but of this you cannot judge till to
morrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea
of the shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a
small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no
paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found
none.

"Never mind," said he at length, "this will
answer ; " and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a
scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, and
made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While
he did this I retained my seat by the fire, for I was
still chilly. When the design was complete, he handed
it to me without rising. As I received it, a loud growl
was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door.

THE GOLD-BUG. 5

Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belong
ing to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders,
and loaded me with caresses ; for I had shown him
much attention during previous visits. When his
gambols were over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak
the truth, found myself not a little puzzled at what my
friend had depicted.

" Well ! " I said, after contemplating it for some min
utes, " this is a strange scarabteu*, I must confess : new to
me : never saw anything like it before — unless it was a
skull, or a death's-head — which it more nearly resembles
than anything else that has come under my observation."

" A death's-head ! " echoed Legrand—" Oh— yes-
well, it has something of that appearance upon paper,
no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes,
eh ? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth —
and then the shape of the whole is oval."

"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are
no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I
am to form any idea of its personal appearance."

" Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, " I
draw tolerably — should do it, at least — have had good
masters, and flatter myself that I am not quite a block
head."

" But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I ;
" this is a very passable shall — indeed, I may say that it
is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar notions
about such specimens of physiology — and your scara-
bceas must be the queerest scarabceus in the world if it
resemble it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit
of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call
the bug scarabceas caput hominis, or something of that
kind — there are many similar titles in the Natural His
tories. But where are the anteuuce you spoke of? "

6 THE GOLD-BUG.

"The antenme!" said Legrand, who seemed to be
getting unaccountably warm upon the subject ; " I am
sure you must see the antennae. I made them as distinct
as they are in the original insect, and I presume that is
sufficient."

" Well, well," I said, " perhaps you have — still I
don't see them ; " and I handed him the paper without
additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper ; but
I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken ; his
ill-humor puzzled me — and, as for the drawing of the
beetle, there were positively no antennce visible, and the
whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary
cuts of a death's-head.

He received the paper very peevishly, and was about
to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a
casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his
attention. In an instant his face grew violently red — in
another as excessively pale. For some minutes he
continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he
sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table,
and proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the
farthest corner of the room. Here again he made
an anxious examination of the paper; turning it in
all directions. He said nothing, however, and his
conduct greatly astonished me ; yet I thought it
prudent not -to exacerbate the growing moodiness of
his temper by any comment. Presently he took from
his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in
it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he
locked. He now grew more composed in his de
meanor ; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite
disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as
abstracted. As the evening wore away he became
more and more absorbed in reverie, from which no

THE GOLD-BUG. 7

sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my
intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had fre
quently done before, but seeing my host in this mood,
I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press
me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand
with even more than his usual cordiality.

It was about a month after this (and during the
interval I had seen nothing of Legrand) when I re
ceived a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter.
I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited,
and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my
friend.

" Well, Jup," said I, " what is the matter now? — how
is your master ? "

" Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well
as mought be."

" Not well ! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does
he complain of? "

"Dar! dat's it! — him nebber plain of notin — but
him berry sick for all dat."

" Very sick, Jupiter ! — why didn't you say so at
once ? Is he confined to bed ? "

" No, dat he aint ! — he aint find nowhar — dat's just
whar de shoe pinch — my mind is got to be berry hebby
bout poor Massa Will."

" Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you
are talking about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't
he told you what ails him ? "

" Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about
de matter — Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter
wid him — but den what make him go about looking
dis here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and
as white as a gose ? And den he keep a syphon all de
time "

8 THE GOLD-BUG.

11 Keeps a what, Jupiter ? "

" Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate — de
queerest figgurs I ebber did see. Ise gittin to be
skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty tight eye
pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip fore de
sun up, and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I
had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good
beating when he did come — But Ise sich a fool dat I
hadn't de heart arter all — he look so berry poorly."

"Eh? — what? — ah yes! upon the whole I think
you had better not be too severe with the poor fellow
— don't flog him, Jupiter — he can't very well stand it
—but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this
illness, or rather this change of conduct ? Has anything
unpleasant happened since I saw you ? "

" No, massa, dey aint bin nuffin unpleasant since den
— 'twas fore den, I'm feared — 'twas de berry day you
was dare."

" How ? what do you mean ? "

" Why, massa, I mean de bug — dare now."

" The what ? "

" De bug — I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit
somewhere bout de head by dat goole-bug."

" And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a sup
position ? "

" Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did
see sich a deuced bug — he kick and he bite ebery ting
what cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but
had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell you —
den was de time he must ha got de bite. I didn't like
de look ob de bug mouff, myself, no how, so I wouldn't
take hold ob him wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a
piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de paper
and stuff piece ob it in he mouff— dat was de way."

THE GOLD-BUG. 9

"And you think, then, that your master was really
bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick ? "

" I don't tink noffin about it — I nose it. What make
him dream bout de goole so much, if taint cause he bit
by de goole-bug ? Ise heerd bout dem goole-bugs fore
dis."

" But how do you know he dreams about gold ? "

" How I know ? why, cause he talk about it in he
sleep — dat's how I nose."

" Well, Jup, perhaps you are right ; but to what for
tunate circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a
visit from you to-day ? "

" What de matter, massa? "

" Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand ? "

" No, massa, I bring dis here pissel ; " and here Jupiter
handed me a note which ran thus :

" MY DEAR , — Why have I not seen you for so

long a time ? I hope you have not been so foolish as to
take offence at any little brusquerie of mine ; but no,
that is improbable.

" Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety.
I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to
tell it, or whether I should tell it at all.

" I have not been quite well for some days past,
and poor old Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance,
by his well-meant attentions. Would you believe
it?-1— he had prepared a huge stick, the other day,
with which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and
spending the day, solux, among the hills on the main
land. I verily believe that my ill looks alone saved me
a flogging.

" I have made no addition to my cabinet since we
met.

10 THE GOLD-BUG.

" If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come
over with Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you to-night,
upon business of importance. I assure you that it is of
the highest importance. — Ever yours,

" WILLIAM LEGRAND."

There was something in the tone of this note which
gave me great uneasiness. Its whole style differed
materially from that of Legrand. What could he be
dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed his excit
able brain ? What " business of the highest impor
tance " could he possibly have to transact ? Jupiter's
account of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the
continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly
unsettled the reason of my friend. Without a moment's
hesitation, therefore, I prepared to accompany the
negro.

Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and
three spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom of
the boat in which we were to embark.

" What is the meaning of all this, Jup ? " I inquired.

" Him syfe, massa, and spade."

" Very true ; but what are they doing here ? "

" Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon
my buying for him in de town, and de debbil's own lot
of money I had to gib for em."

" But what, in the name of all that is mysterious,
is your ' Massa Will ' going to do with scythes and
spades ? "

" Dat's more dan / know, and debbil take me if I
don't blieve 'tis more dan he know too. But it's all
cum ob de bug."

Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of
Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to be absorbed

THE GOLD-BUG. 11

by " de bug," I now stepped into the boat and made
sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into
the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and
a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It
was about three in the afternoon when we arrived.
Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation.
He grasped my hand with a nervous empressement
which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions
already entertained. His countenance was pale even
to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with un
natural lustre. After some inquiries respecting his
health, I asked him, not knowing what better to say,
if he had yet obtained the scarabceus from Lieutenant
G .

" Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, " I got it
from him the next morning. Nothing should tempt me
to part with that scarabceiLs. Do you know that Jupiter
is quite right about it ? "

" In what way ? " I asked, with a sad foreboding at
heart.

" In supposing it to be a bug of real gold." He said
this with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt in
expressibly shocked.

" This bug is to make my fortune," he continued,
with a triumphant smile, " to reinstate me in my family
possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize it?
Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I
have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the
gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that
scarabceus ! "

" What ! de bug, massa ? I'd rudder not go fer
trubble dat bug — you mus git him for you own self."
Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air,
and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which

12 THE GOLD-BUG.

it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabceus, and, at
that time, unknown to naturalists — of course a great
prize in a scientific point of view. There were two
round black spots near one extremity of the back, and
a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly
hard and glossy, with all the appearance of burnished
gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable,
and, taking all things into consideration, I could
hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting it;
but what to make of Legrand's concordance with that
opinion, I could not, for the life of me, tell.

" I sent for you," said he in a grandiloquent tone,
when I had completed my examination of the beetle,
4< I sent for you, that I might have your counsel and
assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the
bug"-

" My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, " you
are certainly unwell, and had better use some little pre
cautions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with
you a few days, until you get over this. You are
feverish and "-

" Feel my pulse," said he.

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest
indication of fever.

" But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow
me this once to prescribe for you. In the first place, go
to bed. In the next "

" You are mistaken," he interposed ; " I am as well
as I can expect to be under the excitement which I
suffer. If you really wish me well, you will relieve this
excitement."

"And how is this to be done ? "

" Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon
an expedition into the hills, upon the mainland, and,

THE GOLD- BUG. 13

in this expedition, we shall need the aid of some person
in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can
trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which
you now perceive in me will be equally allayed."

" I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied ;
" but do you mean to say that this infernal beetle has
any connection with your expedition into the hills?"

" It has."

" Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such
absurd proceeding."

" I am sorry — very sorry — for we shall have to try it
by ourselves."

" Try it by yourselves ! The man is surely mad ! —
but stay ! — how long do you propose to be absent ? "

" Probably all night. We shall start immediately,
and be back, at all events, by sunrise."

" And will you promise me, upon your honor, that
when this freak of yours is over, and the bug business
(good God !) settled to your satisfaction, you will then
return home and follow my advice implicitly, as that of
your physician ? "

" Yes, I promise ; and now let us be off, for we have
no time to lose."

With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We
started about four o'clock — Legrand, Jupiter, the dog,
and myself. Jupiter had with him the scythe and
spades — the whole of which he insisted upon carrying
—more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting
either of the implements within reach of his master,
than from any excess of industry or complaisance.
His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and " dat
deuced bug" were the sole words which escaped his
lips during the journey. For my own part, I had
charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand

14 THE GOLD-BUG.

contented himself with the scarabceus, which he carried
attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord ; twirling it
to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went.
When I observed this last plain evidence of my friend's
aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears.
I thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at
least for the present, or until I could adopt some more
energetic measures with a chance of success. In the
meantime I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him
in regard to the object of the expedition. Having suc
ceeded in inducing me to accompany him, he seemed
unwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of
minor importance, and to all my questions vouchsafed
no other reply than " We shall see ! "

We crossed the creek at the head of the island by
means of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on
the shore of the mainland, proceeded in a north
westerly direction, through a tract of country exces
sively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human
footstep was to be seen. Legrand led the way with
decision ; pausing only for an instant, here and there,
to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of
his own contrivance upon a former occasion.

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours,
and the sun was just setting when we entered a region
infinitely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a
species of tableland, near the summit of an almost
inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle,
and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie
loosely upon the soil, and in many cases were prevented
from precipitating themselves into the valleys below,
merely by the support of the trees against which they
reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an
air of still sterner solemnity to the scene.

THE GOLD-BUG. 15

The natural platform to which we had clambered
was thickly overgrown with brambles, through which
we soon discovered that it would have been impossible
to force our way but for the scythe ; and Jupiter, by
direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a
path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which
stood, with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and
far surpassed them all, and all other trees which I had
then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form,
in the wide spread of its branches, and in the general
majesty of its appearance. When we reached this
tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if he
thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a
little staggered by the question, and for some moments
made no reply. At length he approached the huge
trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with
minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny,
he merely said —

" Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he
life."

" Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon
be too dark to see what we are about."

" How far mus go up, massa ? " inquired Jupiter.

" Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell
you which way to go — and here — stop ! take this beetle
with you."

" De bug, Massa Will ! — de goole-bug ! " cried the
negro, drawing back in dismay — " what for mus tote de
bug way up de tree ? — d n if I do ! "

" If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to
take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can
carry it up by this string — but if you do not take it up
with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of
breaking your head with this shovel."

16 THE GOLD-BUG.

" What de matter now, massa ? " said Jup, evidently
shamed into compliance ; " always want for to raise
fus wid old nigger. Was only funnin anyhow. Me
feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" Here he
took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string,
and, maintaining the insect as far from his person as
circumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the
tree.

In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron tulipiferum,
the most magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk
peculiarly smooth, and often rises to a great height
without lateral branches; but in its riper age, the
bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short
limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the
difficulty of ascension, in the present case, lay more in
semblance than in reality. Embracing the huge
cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms and
knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and
resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one
or two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled
himself into the first great fork, and seemed to consider
the whole business as virtually accomplished. The
risk of the achievement was, in fact, now over, although
the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from the
ground.

" Which way mus go now, Massa Will ? " he asked.

" Keep up the largest branch — the one on this side,"
said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and
apparently with but little trouble ; ascending higher and
higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could be
obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it.
Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo.

" How much fudder is got for go ? "

" How high up are you ? " asked Legrand.

THE GOLD-BUG. 17

" Ebber so fur," replied the negro ; " can see de sky
fru de top ob de tree."

"Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say.
Look down the trunk and count the limbs below you on
this side. How many limbs have you passed ? "

"One, two, tree, four, fibe — I done pass fibe big
limb, massa, pon dis side."

" Then go one limb higher."

In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announc
ing that the seventh limb was attained.

" Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited,
" I want you to wrork your way out upon that limb as far
as you can. If you see anything strange, let me know."

By this time what little doubt I might have enter
tained of my poor friend's insanity was put finally at
rest. I had no alternative but to conclude him
stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious
about getting him home. While I was pondering
upon what was best to be done, Jupiter's voice was
again heard.

" Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far — tis
dead limb putty much all de way."

" Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter ? " cried
Legrand in a quavering voice.

" Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail — done up for
sartain — done departed dis here life."

" What in the name of heaven shall I do ? " asked
Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress.

" Do ! " said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a
word, " why come home and go to bed. Come now ! —
that's a fine fellow. It's getting late, and, besides, you
remember your promise."

" Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least,
" do you hear me ? "

Vol. I.— 2.

18 THE GOLD-BUG.

"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain."

" Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if
you think it very rotten."

" Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in
a few moments, " but not so berry rotten as mought be.
Mought ventur out leetle way pon de limb by myself,
dat's true."

" By yourself! — What do you mean ? "

" Why, I mean de bug. Tis berry hebby bug. Spose
I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won't break wid
just de weight ob one nigger."

" You infernal scoundrel ! " cried Legrand, appar
ently much relieved, " what do you mean by telling me
such nonsense as that? As sure as you drop that
beetle I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do
you hear me ? "

" Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style."

" Well ! now listen ! — If you will venture out on the
limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle,
I'll make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you
get down."

"I'm gwine, Massa Will — deed I is," replied the
negro very promptly — " mos out to the eend now."

" Out to the end ! " here fairly screamed Legrand,
" do you say you are out to the end of that limb ? "

" Soon be to de eend, massa, — o-o-o-o-oh ! Lor-gol-a
marcy ! what is dis here pon de tree ? "

" Well " cried Legrand, highly delighted, " what is
it!"

" Why, taint noffin but a skull — somebody bin lef him
head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob
de meat off."

"A skull, you say ! — very well ! — how is it fastened
to the limb ? — what holds it on ? "

THE GOLD-BUG. 19

" Sure nuff, massa ; inns look. Why dis berry curous
sarcumstance, pon my word — dare's a great big nail in
de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree."

" Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you — do
you hear?"

" Yes, massa."

" Pay attention, then ! — find the left eye of the
skull."

" Hum ! hoo ! dat's good ! why dare aint no eye lef
at all."

" Curse your stupidity ! do you know your right
hand from your left ? "

" Yes, I nose dat — nose all bout dat — tis my lef hand
what I chops de wood wid."

" To be sure ! you are left-handed ; and your left
eye is on the same side as your left hand. Now, I
suppose, you can find the left eye of the skull, or the
place where the left eye has been. Have you found
it?"

Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked,

" Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef
hand of de skull, too? — cause de skull aint got not a
bit ob a hand at all — nebber mind ! I got de lef eye
now — here de lef eye ! what mus do wid it?"

" Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string
will reach — but be careful and not let go your hold of
the string."

"All dat done, Massa Will ; mighty easy ting for
to put de bug fru de hole — look out for him dare
below ! "

During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person
could be seen ; but the beetle, which he had suffered to
descend, was now visible at the end of the string, and
glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in the last

20 THE GOLD-BUG.

rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly
illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The
scarabceus hung quite clear of any branches, and, if
allowed to fall, would have fallen at our feet. Legrand
immediately took the scythe, and cleared with it a cir
cular space, three or four yards in diameter, just be
neath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered
Jupiter to let go the string and come down from the
tree.

Driving a peg, with great nicety into the ground,
at the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now
produced from his pocket a tape-measure. Fastening
one end of this at that point of the trunk of the tree
which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached
the peg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction
already established by the two points of the tree and
the peg, for the distance of fifty feet — Jupiter clearing
away the brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus
attained a second peg was driven, and about this, as a
centre, a rude circle, about four feet in diameter, de
scribed. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one
to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand begged us to set
about digging as quickly as possible.

To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for
such amusement at any time, and, at that particular
moment, would most willingly have declined it ; for
the night was coming on, and I felt much fatigued with
the exercise already taken ; but I saw no mode of
escape, and was fearful of disturbing my poor friend's
equanimity by a refusal. Could I have depended,
indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would have had no
hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home by
force ; but I was too well assured of the old negro's
disposition, to hope that he would assist me, under any

THE GOLD-BUG. 21

circumstances, in a personal contest with his master.
I made no doubt that the latter had been infected with
some of the innumerable Southern superstitions about
money buried, and that his fantasy had received con
firmation by the finding of the scarabceiLS, or, perhaps
by Jupiter's obstinacy in maintaining it to be " a bug of
real gold." A mind disposed to lunacy would readily
be led away by such suggestions — especially if chiming
in with favorite preconceived ideas — and then I
called to mind the poor fellow's speech about the
beetle's being " the index of his fortune." Upon the
whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, but, at length,
I concluded to make a virtue of necessity — to dig with
a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the
visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of
the opinions he entertained.

The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work
with a zeal worthy a more rational cause ; and, as the
glare fell upon our persons and implements, I could
not help thinking how picturesque a group we composed,
and how strange and suspicious our labors must have
appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have
stumbled upon our whereabouts.

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said ;
and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the
dog, who took exceeding interest in our proceedings.
He at length became so obstreperous, that we grew
fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in
the vicinity ; or, rather, this was the apprehension of
Legrand ; — for myself, I should have rejoiced at any
interruption which might have enabled me to get the
wanderer home. The noise was, at length, very effec
tually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole
with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth

22 THE GOLD-BUG.

up with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with
a grave chuckle, to his task.

When the time mentioned had expired, we had
reached a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any
treasure became manifest. A general pause ensued,
and I began to hope that the farce was at an end.
Legrand, however, although evidently much discon
certed, wiped his brow thoughtfully and recommenced.
We had excavated the entire circle of four feet
diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, and
went to the farther depth of two feet. Still nothing
appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied,
at length clambered from the pit, with the bitterest
disappointment imprinted upon every feature, and pro
ceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his coat, which
he had thrown off at the beginning of his labor. In the
meantime I made no remark. Jupiter, at a signal from
his master, began to gather up his tools. This done,
and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned in pro
found silence towards home.

We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this
direction, when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up
to Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. The
astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the
fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his
knees.

" You scoundrel," said Legrand, hissing out the
syllables from between his clenched teeth — " you
infernal black villain ! — speak, I tell you ! — answer me
this instant, without prevarication ! — which — which is
your left eye ? "

" Oh, my golly, Massa Will ! aint dis here my lef eye
for sartain?" roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his
hand upon his right organ of vision, and holding it there

THE GOLD-BUG. 23

with a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of
his master's attempt at a gouge.

" I thought so ! — I knew it ! hurrah ! " vociferated
Legrand, letting the negro go, and executing a series
of curvets and caracols, much to the astonishment of
his valet, who, arising from his knees, looked, mutely,
from his master to myself, and then from myself to his
master.

" Come ! we must go back," said the latter ; " the
game's not up yet ;" and he again led the way to the
tulip-tree.

" Jupiter," said he, when he reached its foot, " come
here ! was the skull nailed to the limb with the face
outwards, or with the face to the limb? "

" De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get
at de eyes good, widout any trouble."

" Well, then, was it this eye or that through which
you dropped the beetle ? " — here Legrand touched each
of Jupiter's eyes.

"Twos dis eye, massa — de lef eye — jis as you tell
me," and here it was his right eye that the negro
indicated.

"That will do — we must try it again."

Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw,
or fancied that I saw, certain indications of method,
removed the peg which marked the spot where the
beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the westward
of its former position. Taking, now, the tape-measure
from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as
before, and continuing the extension in a straight line to
the distance of fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed
by several yards from the point at which we had been
digging.

Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger

24 THE GOLD-BUG.

than in the former instance, was now described, and
we again set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully
weary, but scarcely understanding what had occasioned
the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any great
aversion from the labor imposed. I had become most
unaccountably interested — nay, even excited. Perhaps
there was something, amid all the extravagant demeanor
of Legrand — some air of forethought, or of deliber
ation, which impressed me. I dug eagerly, and now
and then caught myself actually looking, with some
thing that very much resembled expectation, for the
fancied treasure, the vision of which had demented my
unfortunate companion. At a period when such vaga
ries of thought most fully possessed me, and when we
had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, we
were again interrupted by the violent howlings of the
dog. His uneasiness, in the first instance, had been,
evidently, but the result of playfulness or caprice, but
he now assumed a bitter and serious tone. Upon
Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, he made
furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up
the mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds
he had uncovered a mass of human bones, forming
two complete skeletons, intermingled with several but
tons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of
decayed woolen. One or two strokes of a spade up
turned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as we
dug farther, three or four loose pieces of gold and silver
coin came to light.

At the sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely
be restrained, but the countenance of his master wore an
air of extreme disappointment. He urged us, however,
to continue our exertions, and the words were hardly
uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught

THE GOLD- BUG. 25

the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half-
buried in the loose earth.

We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass
ten minutes of more intense excitement. During this
interval we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of
wood, which from its perfect preservation and wonderful
hardness, had plainly been subjected to some miner
alizing process — perhaps that of the bichloride of
mercury. This box was three feet and a half long,
three feet broad, and two and a half feet deep. It
was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted,
and forming a kind of open trellis-work over the whole.
On each side of the chest, near the top, were three
rings of iron — six in all — by means of which a firm
hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost
united endeavors served only to disturb the coffer
very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impos
sibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the
sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts.
These we drew back — trembling and panting with anx
iety. In an instant, a treasure of incalculable value lay
gleaming before us. As the rays of the lanterns fell
within the pit, there flashed upwards a glow and a glare,
from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, that abso
lutely dazzled our eyes.

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with
which I gazed. Amazement was, of course, predomi
nant. Legrand appeared exhausted with excitement,
and spoke very few words. Jupiter's countenance
wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is
possible, in the nature of things, for any negro's visage to
assume. He seemed stupefied — thunder-stricken. Pres
ently he fell upon his knees in the pit, and, burying his
naked arms up to the elbows in gold, let them there

26 THE GOLD-BUG.

remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. At length
with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if in a soliloquy —

"And dis all cum ob de goole-bug ! de putty goole-
bug ! de poor little goole-bug, what I boosed in dat
sabage kind ob style ! Aint you shamed ob yourself,
nigger ? — answer me dat ! "

It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse
both master and valet to the expediency of removing
the treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved us
to make exertion, that we might get everything housed
before daylight. It was difficult to say what should
be done, and much time was spent in deliberation — so
confused were the ideas of all. We, finally, lightened
the box by removing two-thirds of its contents, when
we were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it from
the hole. The articles taken out were deposited among
the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, with
strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretence,
to stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth until
our return. We then hurriedly made for home with
the chest ; reaching the hut in safety, but after exces
sive toil, at one o'clock in the morning. Worn out
as we were, it was not in human nature to do more
immediately. We rested until two, and had supper ;
starting for the hills immediately afterwards, armed
with three stout sacks, which, by good luck, were
upon the premises. A little before four we arrived
at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as
equally as might be, among us, and, leaving the holes
unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which, for the
second time, we deposited our golden burthens, just as
the first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed from over
the tree-tops in the East.

We were now thoroughly broken down ; but the

THE GOLD-BUG. 27

intense excitement of the time denied us repose. After
an unquiet slumber of some three or four hours' dura
tion, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make examination
of our treasure.

The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent
the whole day, and the greater part of the next night,
in a scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing
like order or arrangement. Everything had been
heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with
care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster
wealth than we had at first supposed. In coin there
was rather more than four hundred and fifty thousand
dollars — estimating the value of the pieces, as accu
rately as we could, by the tables of the period. There
was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique
date and of great variety — French, Spanish, and Ger
man money, with a few English guineas, and some
counters, of which wre had never seen specimens before.
There were several very large and heavy coins, so
worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions.
There was no American money. The value of the
jewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There
were diamonds — some of them exceedingly large and
fine — a hundred and ten in all, and not one of them
small ; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy ;
three hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful ; —
and twenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones
had all been broken from their settings and thrown
loose in the chest. The settings themselves, which
we picked out from among the other gold, appeared
to have been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent
identification. Besides all this, there was a vast
quantity of solid gold ornaments ; — nearly two hundred
massive finger and ear-rings ; — rich chains — thirty of

28 THE GOLD-BUG.

these, if I remember; — eighty-three very large and
heavy crucifixes ; — five gold censers of great value ; —
a prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented with
richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures;
with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many
other smaller articles which I cannot recollect. The
weight of these valuables exceeded three hundred and
fifty pounds avoirdupois ; and in this estimate I have
not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb gold
watches ; three of the number being worth each five
hundred dollars, if one. Many of them were very old
and as time-keepers valueless ; the works having suffered
more or less from corrosion — but all were richly
jeweled and in cases of great worth. We estimated the
entire contents of the chest, that night, at a million and
a half of dollars ; and, upon the subsequent disposal of
the trinkets and jewels (a few being retained for our
own use), it was found that we had greatly undervalued
the treasure.

When at length, we had concluded our examination,
and the intense excitement of the time had in some
measure subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying
with impatience for a solution of this most extraordinary
riddle, entered into a full detail of all the circumstances
connected with it.

" You remember," said he, " the night when I handed
you the rough sketch I had made of the scarabceus.
You recollect also, that I became quite vexed at you
for insisting that my drawing resembled a death's-head.
When you first made this assertion I thought you were
jesting ; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar
spots on the back of the insect, and admitted to my
self that your remark had some little foundation in
fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic powers irritated

THE GOLD-BUG. 29

me — for I am considered a good artist — and, therefore,
when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about
to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire."

"The scrap of paper, you mean," said I.

"No; it had much of the appearance of paper, and
at first I supposed it to be such, but when I came to
draw upon it, I discovered it, at once, to be a piece of
very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember.
Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my
glance fell upon the sketch at which you had been look
ing, and you may imagine my astonishment when I
perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head just
where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing of the
beetle. For a moment I was too much amazed to
think with accuracy. I knew that my design was very
different in detail from this — although there was a
certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took
a candle, and seating myself at the other end of the
room, proceeded to scrutinize the parchment more
closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch
upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea,
now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable simi
larity of outline — at the singular coincidence involved
in the fact, that unknown to me, there should have
been a skull upon the other side of the parchment ;
immediately beneath my figure of the scambceus, and
that this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should
so closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity
of this coincidence absolutely stupefied me for a time.
This is the usual effect of such coincidences. The
mind struggles to establish a connection — a sequence
of cause and effect — and, being unable to do so, suffers
a species of temporary paralysis. But when I recovered
from this stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a

30 THE GOLD-BUG.

conviction which startled me even far more than the
coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remem
ber that there had been no drawing upon the parch
ment when I made my sketch of the scarabceus. I
became perfectly certain of this : for I recollected
turning up first one side and then the other, in search
of the cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of
course I could not have failed to notice it. Here was
indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to explain ;
but, even at that early moment, there seemed to glimmer,
faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers of
my intellect, a glowworm-like conception of that truth
which last night's adventure brought to so magnificent
a demonstration. I arose at once, and putting the
parchment securely away, dismissed all farther reflection
until I should be alone.

" When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast
asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investiga
tion of the affair. In the first place I considered the
manner in which the parchment had come into my
possession. The spot where we discovered the scara
bceus was on the coast of the mainland, about a mile
eastward of the island, and but a short distance above
high-water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, it gave
me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupi
ter, with his accustomed caution, before seizing the
insect, which had flown towards him, looked about
him for a leaf, or something of that nature, by which to
take hold of it. It was at this moment that his eyes,
and mine also, fell upon the scrap of parchment, which
I then supposed to be paper. It was lying half buried
in the sand, a corner sticking up. Near the spot where
we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of
what appeared to have been a ship's long boat. The

THE GOLD-BUG. 31

wreck seemed to have been there for a very great while ;
for the resemblance to boat timbers could scarcely be
traced.

"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped
the beetle in it, and gave it to me. Soon afterwards
we turned to go home, and on the way met Lieutenant

G . I showed him the insect, and he begged me to

let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, he
thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without
the parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which
I had continued to hold in my hand during his inspec
tion. Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and
thought it best to make sure of the prize at once — you
know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected
with Natural History. At the same time, without being
conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment in
my own pocket.

" You remember that when I went to the table, for
the purpose of making a sketch of the beetle, I found
no paper where it was usually kept. I looked in the
drawer, and found none there. I searched my pockets,
hoping to find an old letter, when my hand fell upon
the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which
it came into my possession ; for the circumstances im
pressed me with peculiar force.

"No doubt you will think me fanciful — but I had
already established a kind of connection. I had put
together two links of a great chain. There was a boat
lying upon the sea-coast, and not far from the boat
was a parchment — not a paper — with a skull depicted
upon it. You will, of course, ask ' Where is the con
nection?' I reply that the skull, or death's-head, is
the well-known emblem of the pirate. The flag of the
death's-head is hoisted in all engagements.

32 THE GOLD-BUG.

" I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not
paper. Parchment is durable — almost imperishable.
Matters of little moment are rarely consigned to parch
ment ; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of drawing
or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper.
This reflection suggested some meaning— some rele
vancy — in the death's-head. I did not fail to observe,
also, the form of the parchment. Although one of its
corners had been by some accident destroyed, it could
be seen that the original form was oblong. It was just
such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosen for a
memorandum — for a record of something to be long
remembered and carefully preserved."

" But," I interposed, " you say that the skull was
not upon the parchment when you made the drawing
of the beetle. How then do you trace any connection
between the boat and the skull — since this latter, accord
ing to your own admission, must have been designed
(God only knows how or by whom) at some period
subsequent to your sketching the scarabceus ? "

" Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery ; although
the secret, at this point, I had comparatively little
difficulty in solving. My steps were sure, and could
afford but a single result. I reasoned, for example,
thus : When I drew the scarabceus, there \vas no skull
apparent upon the parchment. When I had completed
the drawing I gave it to you, and observed you nar
rowly until you returned it. You, therefore, did not
design the skull, and no one else was present to do it.
Then it was not done by human agency. And never
theless it was done.

" At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to
remember and did remember, with entire distinctness,
every incident which occurred about the period in

THE GOLD-BUG. 33

question. The weather was chilly (oh rare and happy
accident !) and a fire was blazing upon the hearth. I
was heated with exercise and sat near the table. You,
however, had drawn a chair close to the chimney. Just
as I placed the parchment in your hand, and as you
were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfound
land, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With
your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while
your right, holding the parchment, was permitted to
fall listlessly between your knees, and in close prox
imity to the fire. At one moment I thought the blaze
had caught it, and was about to caution you. but,
before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were
engaged in its examination. When I considered all
these particulars, I doubted not for a moment that
heat had been the agent in bringing to light, upon the
parchment, the skull which I saw designed upon it.
You are well aware that chemical preparations exist,
and have existed time out of mind, by means of which
it is possible to write upon either paper or vellum,
so that the characters shall become visible only when
subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in
aqua regia, and diluted with four times its weight of
water, is sometimes employed ; a green tint results.
The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a
red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter intervals
after the material written upon cools, but again become
apparent upon the re-application of heat,

" I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its
outer edges — the edges of the drawing nearest the edge
of the vellum — were far more distinct than the others.
It was clear that the action of the caloric had been
imperfect or unequal, I immediately kindled a fire,
and subjected every portion of the parchment to a

Vol. I.— 3.

34 THE GOLD-BUG.

glowing heat. At first, the only effect was the strength
ening of the faint lines in the skull ; but, upon
persevering in the experiment, there became visible,
at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the
spot in which the death's-head was delineated, the figure
of what I at first supposed to be a goat. A closer
scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was intended for
a kid."

" Ha ! ha ! " said I, " to be sure I have no right to
laugh at you — a million and a half of money is too
serious a matter for mirth — but you are not about to
establish a third link in your chain — you will not find
any especial connection between your pirates and a goat
— pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goats ;
they appertain to the farming interest."

" But I have said that the figure was not that of a
goat."

" Well, a kid then — pretty much the same thing."

" Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand.
" You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at
once looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind of
punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature ;
because its position upon the vellum suggested this
idea. The death's-head at the corner diagonally op
posite, had, in the same manner, the air of a stamp, or
seal. But I was surely put out by the absence of
all else — of the body to my imagined instrument— of
the text for my context."

" I presume you expected to find a letter between the
stamp and the signature."

" Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irre
sistibly impressed with a presentiment of some vast
good fortune impending. I can scarcely say why.
Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire than an actual

THE GOLD-BUG. 35

belief; but do you know that Jupiter's silly words,
about the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable
effect upon my fancy? And then the series of acci
dents and coincidences — these were so very extraor
dinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it was
that these events should have occurred upon the sole
day of all the year in which it has been, or may be,
sufficiently cool for fire, and that without the fire, or
without the intervention of the dog at the precise mo
ment in which he appeared, I should never have become
aware of the death's-head, and so never the possessor of
the treasure ? "

"But proceed — I am all impatience."

" AVell ; you have heard, of course, the many stories
current — the thousand vague rumors afloat about money
buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, by Kidd
and his associates. These rumors must have had
some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have
existed so long and continuous, could have resulted,
it appeared to me, only from the circumstance of the
buried treasure still remaining entombed. Had Kidd
concealed his plunder for a time, and afterwards
reclaimed it, the rumors would scarcely have reached
us in their present unvarying form. You will ob
serve that the stories told are all about money-
seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate
recovered his money, there the affair would have
dropped. It seemed to me that some accident — say
the loss of a memorandum indicating its locality — had
deprived him of the means of recovering it, and that
this accident had become known to his followers, who
otherwise might never have heard that treasure had
been concealed at all, and who, busying themselves in
vain, because unguided attempts to regain it, had

36 THE GOLD-BUG.

given first birth, and then universal currency to the
reports which are now so common. Have you ever
heard of any important treasure being unearthed along
the coast ? "

" Never."

" But that Kidd's accumulations were immense is
well known. I took it for granted, therefore, that the
earth still held them ; and you will scarcely be sur
prised when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly amount
ing to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found,
involved a lost record of the place of deposit."

" But how did you proceed ? "

" I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing
the heat ; but nothing appeared. I now thought it
possible that the coating of dirt might have something
to do with the failure ; so I carefully rinsed the parch
ment by pouring warm water over it, and, having done
this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards,
and put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal.
In a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly
heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible
joy, found it spotted, in several places, with what
appeared to be figures arranged in lines. Again I
placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain another
minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as you
see it now."

Here Legrand, having re-heated the parchment,
submitted it to my inspection. The following char
acters were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the
death's-head and the goat :

53ttt305))6*;4826)4J.)4t);806*;48t81|60))85;lt(;:J*

*— 4)8^8*;4069285);)6t8)4Jt;l(t9;48081;8:8Jl;48t85;
4)485t528806*81(+9;48;(88;4(J?34;48)4+;161;:188;|?;

THE GOLD-BUG. 37

" But," said I, returning him the slip, " I am as much
in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda
awaiting me upon my solution of this enigma, I am
quite sure that I should be unable to earn them."

" And yet," said Legrand, " the solution is by no
means so difficult as you might be led to imagine from
the first hasty inspection of the characters. These
characters, as any one might readily guess, form a
cipher — that is to say, they convey a meaning ; but then,
from what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose him
capable of constructing any of the more abstruse cryp
tographs. I made up my mind, at once, that this was
of a simple species — such, however, as would appear, to
the crude intellect of the sailor absolutely insoluble
without the key."

"And you really solved it?"

" Readily ; I have solved others of an abstruseness
ten thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a cer
tain bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such
riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human
ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which
human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve.
In fact, having once established connected and legible
characters, I scarcely gave a thought to the mere diffi
culty of developing their import.

" In the present case — indeed in all cases of secret
writing — the first question regards the language of the
cipher ; for the principles of solution, so far, especially,
as the more simple ciphers are concerned, depend
upon, and are varied by, the genius of the particular
idiom. In general, there is no alternative but experi
ment (directed by probabilities) of every tongue known
to him who attempts the solution, until the true one be
attained. But, with the cipher now before us, all

38 THE GOLD- BUG.

difficulty was removed by the signature. The pun upon
the word ' Kidd ' is appreciable in no other language
than the English. But for this consideration I should
have begun my attempts with the Spanish and French, as
the tongues in which a secret of this kind would most nat
urally have been written by a pirate of the Spanish main.
As it was I assumed the cryptograph to be English.

" You observe there are no divisions between the
words. Had there been divisions, the task would have
been comparatively easy. In such case I should have
commenced with a collation and analysis of the shorter
words, and had a word of a single letter occurred, as is
most likely (a or /, for example), I should have con
sidered the solution as assured. But, there being no
division, my first step was to ascertain the predominant
letters, as well as the least frequent. Counting all, I
constructed a table thus :

Of the character 8 there are 33.
; " 26.

4 " 19.
t) " 16.
* " 13.

5 " 12.

6 " 11.
fl " 8.

0 " 6.

92 " 5.

: 3 " 4.

? " 3.

1f " 2-

— . " 1.

" Now, in English, the letter which most frequently
occurs is e. Afterwards the succession runs thus : a o
idhnrstuycfglmwbkpqxz. E pre
dominates so remarkably that an individual sentence of
any length is rarely seen, in which it is not the prevail
ing character.

" Here, then, we have in the very beginning, the

THE GOLD-BUG. 39

groundwork for something more than a mere guess.
The general use which may be made of the table is
obvious — but in this particular cipher we shall only
very partially require its aid. As our predominant
character is 8, we will commence by assuming it as the
e of the natural alphabet. To verify the supposition,
let us observe if the 8 be seen often in couples — for e is
doubled with great frequency in English — in such words,
for example, as ' meet/ ' fleet/ ' speed/ ' seen/ * been/
' agree/ &c. In the present instance we see it doubled
no less than five times, although the cryptograph is brief.

" Let us assume 8, then as e. Now of all words in
the language, * the ' is most usual ; let us see, therefore,
whether there are not repetitions of any three charac
ters, in the same order of collocation, the last of them
being 8. If we discover repetitions of such letters, so
arranged, they will most probably represent the word
' the.' Upon inspection, we find no less than seven such
arrangements, the characters being ;48. We may, there
fore, assume that ; represents t, 4 represents /<, and 8
represents e — the last being now well confirmed. Thus
a great step has been taken.

" But, having established a single word, we are en
abled to establish a vastly important point ; that is to
say, several commencements and terminations of other
words. Let us refer, for example, to the last instance
but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs — not far
from the end of the cipher. We know that the ; im
mediately ensuing is the commencement of a word,
and, of the six characters succeeding this ' the/ we are
cognizant of no less than five. Let us set these charac
ters down, thus by the letters we know them to represent,
leaving a space for the unknown —
t eeth.

40 THE GOLD-BUG.

" Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the ' th,' as
forming no portion of the word commencing with the
first t ; since, by the experiment of the entire alphabet
for a letter adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no
word can be formed of which this th can be a part. We
are thus narrowed into

t ee,

and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before,
we arrive at the word ' tree,' as the sole possible reading.
We thus gain another letter, r, represented by (, with
the words ' the tree ' in juxtaposition.

" Looking beyond these words, for a short distance,
we again see the combination ;48, and employ it by way
of termination to what immediately precedes. We have
thus this arrangement :

the tree ;4(J?34 the,

or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it
reads thus :

the tree thrj?3h the.

"Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we
leave blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus :

the tree thr . . . h the,

when the word 'through' makes itself evident at once.
But this discovery gives us three new letters, o, u and g,
represented by f ? and 3.

" Looking now, narrowrly, through the cipher for
combinations of known characters, we find, not very far
from the beginning, this arrangement,

83(88, or egree,

which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word ' degree,'
and gives us another letter, d, represented by f.

" Four letters beyond the word ' degree/ we perceive
the combination,

;46(;88.

THE GOLD- BUG. 41

" Translating the known characters, and representing
the unknown by dots, as before, we read thus :

th . rtee .

an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word
' thirteen,' and again furnishing us with two new char
acters i and n, represented by 6 and *.

" Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph,
we find the combination,

53Ut-

" Translating, as before, we obtain

good,

which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the
first two words are 'A good/

" It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as
discovered, in a tabular form, to avoid confusion. It
will stand thus :

5 represents a

t

8 e

3 g

h

i

n

" We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most
important letters represented, and it will be unnecessary
to proceed with the details of the solution. I have
said enough to convince you that ciphers of this nature
are readily soluble, and to give you some insight into
the rationale of their development. But be assured
that the specimen before us appertains to the very
simplest species of cryptograph. It now only remains
to give you the full translation of the characters upon
the parchment, as unriddled. Here it is :

" 'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil' s seat

42 THE GOLD-BUG.

forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by
north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the
left eye of the death's-head a bee line from the tree through
the shot fifty feet out.' "

" But," said I, " the enigma seems still in as bad a
condition as ever. How is it possible to extort a mean
ing from all this jargon about ' devil's seats,' ' death's-
heads,' and ' bishop's hotels ? ' '

" I confess," replied Legrand, " that the matter still
wears a serious aspect, when regarded with a casual
glance. My first endeavor was to divide the sentence
into the natural division intended by the cryptographist."

" You mean to punctuate it ? "

" Something of that kind."

" But how was it possible to effect this ? "
• " I reflected that it had been a point with the writer
to run his words together without division, so as to
increase the difficulty of solution. Now, a not over-
acute man, in pursuing such an object, would be nearly
certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course of
his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject
which would naturally require a pause, or a point, he
would be exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this
place, more than usually close together. If you will
observe the MS. in the present instance you will easily
detect five such cases of unusual crowding. Acting
upon this hint, I made the division thus :

" 'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat
— -forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes — northeast and
by north — main branch seventh limb east side — shoot from
the left eye of the death's-head — a bee line from the tree
through the shot fifty feet out.' "

" Even this division," said I, " leaves me still in the
dark."

THE GOLD-BUG. 43

" It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, " for
a few days ; during which I made diligent inquiry,
in the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, for any build
ing which went by the name of the ' Bishop's Hotel ; '
for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word * hostel.'
Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the
point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding
in a more systematic manner, when, one morning it
entered into my head, quite suddenly, that this ' Bishop's
Hostel ' might have some reference to an old family, of
the name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held
possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles
to the northward of the Island. I accordingly went
over to the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries
among the older negroes of the place. At length one of
the most aged of the women said that she had heard of
such a place as Bestop's Castle, and thought that she
could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a
tavern, but a high rock.

" I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after
some demur, she consented to accompany me to the
spot. We found it without much difficulty, when,
dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. The
' castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs
and rocks — one of the latter being quite remarkable for
its height as well as for its insulated and artificial
appearance. I clambered to its apex, and then felt
much at a loss as to what should be next done.

" While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon
a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps
a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This
ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not
more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just
above it, gave it a rude resemblance to one of the

44 THE GOLD-BUG.

hollow-backed chairs used by our ancestors. I made
no doubt that here was the ' devil's seat ' alluded to in
the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret of
the riddle.

" The ' good glass,' I knew, could have reference to
nothing but a telescope ; for the word ' glass ' is rarely
employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I
at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite
point of view, admitting no variation, from which to use
it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, ' forty-
one degrees and thirteen minutes, ' and ' northeast and
by north, ' were intended as directions for the leveling
of the glass. Greatly excited by these discoveries, I
hurried home, procured a telescope, and returned to the
rock.

"I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it
was impossible to retain a seat upon it except in one
particular position. This fact confirmed my precon
ceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of course,
the * forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes ' could
allude to nothing but elevation above the visible
horizon, since the horizontal direction was clearly
indicated by the words, ' northeast and by north. '
This latter direction I at once established by means of
a pocket-compass ; then, pointing the glass as nearly
at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could
do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until
my attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening
in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped its fellows
in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived
a white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what
it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I
again looked, and now made it out to be a human
skull.

THE GOLD-BUG. 45

" Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to con
sider the enigma solved ; for the phrase ' main branch,
seventh limb, east side,' could refer only to the position
of the skull upon the tree, while 'shoot from the left
eye of the death's-head,' admitted also of but one inter
pretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I
perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the
left eye of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other
words, a straight line, drawn from the nearest point of
the trunk through ' the shot ' (or the spot where the
bullet fell), and thence extended to a distance of fifty
feet, would indicate a definite point — and beneath this
point I thought it at least possible that a deposit of
value lay concealed."

" All this," I said, " is exceedingly clear, and, al
though ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you
left the Bishop's Hotel, what then ? "

" Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the
tree, I turned homewards. The instant that I left the
' devil's seat,' however, the circular rift vanished ; nor
could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would.
What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole
business is the fact (for repeated experiment has con
vinced me it is a fact) that the circular opening in
question is visible from no other attainable point of view
than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon the face of
the rock.

" In this expedition to the ' Bishop's Hotel ' I had
been attended by Jupiter, who had no doubt observed
for some weeks past the abstraction of my demeanor,
and took especial care not to leave me alone. But, on
the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to give
him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the
tree. After much toil I found it. When I came home

46 THE GOLD-BUG.

at night my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With
the rest of the adventure I believe you are as well
acquainted as myself."

" I suppose," said I, " you missed the spot, in the first
attempt at digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting
the bug fall through the right instead of through the
left eye of the skull."

" Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about
two inches and a half in the ' shot ' — that is to say, in
the position of the peg nearest the tree ; and had the
treasure been beneath the ' shot,' the error would have
been of little moment; but the 'shot,' together with
the nearest point of the tree, were merely two points
for the establishment of a line of direction ; of course
the error, however trivial in the beginning, increased as
we proceeded with the line; and by the time we had
gone fifty feet, threw us quite off the scent. But for my
deep-seated impressions that treasure was here some
where actually buried, we might have had all our labor
in vain."

" But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swing
ing the beetle — how excessively odd ! I wras sure you
were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall
the bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull ? "

" Why to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your
evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved
to punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit
of sober mystification. For this reason I swung the
beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from the tree.
An observation of yours about its great weight suggested
the latter idea."

" Yes, I perceive ; and now there is only one point
which puzzles me. What are we to make of the skele
tons found in the hole ? "

THE GOLD-BUG. 47

" That is a question I am no more able to answer
than yourself. There seems, however, only one plaus
ible way of accounting for them — and yet it is dreadful
to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would im
ply. It is clear that Kidd — if Kidd indeed secreted
this treasure, which I doubt not — it is clear that he
must have had assistance in the labor. But this labor
concluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove
all participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of
blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his coadju
tors were busy in the pit ; perhaps it required a dozen —
who shall tell ? "

Wo 6 el mv else

BERENICE

ERENICE

BERENICE.

Dicebant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum arnica? visitarem, curas meas
aliquantulum fore levatas.— EBN ZAIAT.

Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is
multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rain
bow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, as
distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching
the wide horizon as the rainbow ! How is it that from
beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness ? from the
covenant of peace a simile of sorrow ? But as in ethics,
evil is a consequence of good, so in fact, out of joy is
sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the
anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their
origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

My baptismal name is Egaeus, that of my family I
will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land
more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary
halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries ;
and in many striking particulars — in the character of
the family mansion, in the frescoes of the chief saloon,
in the tapestries of the dormitories, in the chiseling of
some buttresses in the armory, but more especially in
the gallery of antique paintings, in the fashion of the
library chamber, and lastly, in the very peculiar nature
of the library's contents — there is more than sufficient
evidence to warrant the belief.

The recollections of my earliest years are connected
Vol. i.-4. (49)

50 BERENICE.

with that chamber and with its volumes, of which latter
I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was
I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not
lived before, that the soul has no previous existence.
You deny it? let us not argue the matter. Convinced
myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a
remembrance of aerial forms, of spiritual and meaning
eyes, of sounds, musical yet sad ; a remembrance which
will not be excluded, a memory like a shadow, vague,
Variable, indefinite, unsteady, and like a shadow, too,
in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the
sunlight of my reason shall exist.

In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from
the long night of what seemed, but was not nonentity, at
once into the very regions of fairyland, into a palace of
imagination, into the wild dominions of monastic thought
and erudition, it is not singular that I gazed around me
with a startled and ardent eye, that I loitered away my
boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie ;
but it is singular, that, as years rolled away and the
noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my
fathers, it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon
the springs of my life, wonderful how total an inversion
took place in the character of my commonest thought.
The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as
visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams
became in turn, not the material of my every-day exist
ence, but in very deed that existence utterly and solely

in itself.

* *$:*%%.

Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up to
gether in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew
— I, ill of health and buried in gloom, she, agile, grace
ful, and overflowing with energy ; hers the ramble on

BERENICE. 51

the hillside, mine the studies of the cloister ; I, living
within my own heart, and addicted, body and soul, to
the most intense and painful meditation, she, roaming,
carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows
in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged
hours. Berenice ! I call upon her name, Berenice !
and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumul
tuous recollections are startled at the sound ! Ah, vividly
is her image before me now, as in the early days of her
light-heartedness and joy ! O, gorgeous yet fantastic
beauty ! O, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim !
O, Naiad among its fountains ! And then, then all is
mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told.
Disease, a fatal disease, fell like the simoon upon her
frame ; and even while I gazed upon her, the spirit
of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her
habits, and her character, and in a manner the most
subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her
person ! Alas ! the destroyer came and went ! and the
victim, where was she ? I knew her not, or knew her
no longer as Berenice !

Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced
by that fatal and primary one which effected a revolu
tion of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical
being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most
distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of
epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself
— trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution,
and from which her manner of recovery was, in most
instances, startlingly abrupt. In the meantime, my
own disease — for I have been told that I should call it
by no other appellation — my own disease, then, grew
rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac
character of a novel and extraordinary form — hourly

52 BERENICE.

and momently gaining vigor — and at length obtain
ing over me the most incomprehensible ascendency.
This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a
morbid irritability of those properties of the mind in
metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more
than probable that I am not understood ; but I fear,
indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to
the mind of the merely general reader an adequate
idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which,
in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak
technically) busied and buried themselves, in the con
templation of even the most ordinary objects of the
universe.

To muse for long unwearied hours, with my atten
tion riveted to some frivolous device on the margin
or in the typography of a book ; to become absorbed,
for the better part of a summer's day, in a quaint
shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry or upon the
floor ; to lose myself, for an entire night, in watching
the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire ; to
dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower ;
to repeat monotonously some common word, until the
sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to con
vey any idea whatever to the mind ; to lose all sense
of motion or physical existence, by means of absolute
bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in :
such were a few of the most common and least per
nicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental
faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but cer
tainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or
explanation.

Yet let me not be misapprehended. The undue,
earnest, and morbid attention thus excited by objects
in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded

BERENICE. 53

in character with that ruminating propensity common
to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by
persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as
might be at first supposed, an extreme condition, or
exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and
essentially distinct and different. In the one instance,
the dreamer or enthusiast, being interested by an
object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight
of this object in a wilderness of deductions and sugges
tions issuing therefrom, until at the conclusion of a
day-dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incita-
mentum, or first cause of his musings, entirely vanished
and forgotten. In my case, the primary object was
invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the
medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and
unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were
made ; and those few pertinaciously returning in upon
the original object as a centre. The meditations were
never pleasurable ; and, at the determination of the
reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight,
had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest
which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a
word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised
were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and
are with the day-dreamer, the speculative. .

My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually
serve to irritate the disorder, partook, it will be per
ceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequen
tial nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder
itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise
of the noble Italian, Ccelius Secundus Curio, " De
Amplitudine Beati Regni Dei;1' St. Austin's great
work, "The City of God;" and Tertullian's " De
Carne Christi," in which the paradoxical sentence,

54 BERENICE.

" Mortuus est Dei filius ; eredibile est quia ineptum est
et sepultus resurrexit; cerium est quia impossible est,"
occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of labori
ous and fruitless investigation.

Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance
only by trivial things, my reason bore resemblance to
that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephsestion,
which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence,
and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds,
trembled only to the touch of the flower called Aspho
del. And although, to a careless thinker, it might
appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration pro
duced by her unhappy malady, in the moral condition
of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the
exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose
nature I have been at some trouble in explaining, yet
such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid
intervals of my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave
me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck
of her fair and gentle life, I did not fail to ponder
frequently and bitterly upon the wonder-working
means by which so strange a revolution had been so
suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook
not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such
as would have occurred under similar circumstances
to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own
character, my disorder reveled in the less important
but more startling changes wrought in the physical
frame of Berenice — in the singular and most appalling
distortion of her personal identity.

During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty,
most surely I had never loved her. In the strange
anomaly of my existence, feelings with me had never
been of the heart, and my passions always were of the

BERENICE. 55

mind. Through the gray of the early morning —
among the trellised shadows of the forest at noon-day
— and in the silence of my library at night — she had
flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her — not as the liv
ing and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a
dream ; not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the
abstraction of such a being ; not as a thing to admire,
but to analyze ; not as an object of love, but as the
theme of the most abstruse although desultory specu
lation. And now — now I shuddered in her presence,
and grew pale at her approach ; yet, bitterly lamenting
her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that
she had loved me long, and, in an evil moment, I spoke
to her of marriage.

And at length the period of our nuptials was ap
proaching, when, upon an afternoon in the winter of the
year — one of these unseasonably warm, calm, and misty
days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon* —
I sat (and sat, as I thought alone), in the inner apart
ment of the library. But, uplifting my eyes, I saw that
Berenice stood before me.

Was it my own excited imagination — or the misty
influence of the atmosphere — or the uncertain twilight
of the chamber — or the gray draperies which fell
around her figure — that caused in it so vacillating and
indistinct an outline ? I could not tell. She spoke
no word ; and I — not for worlds could I have uttered a
syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame ; a
sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me ; a consum
ing curiosity pervaded my soul ; and, sinking back
upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless

* For as Jove, during the winter season, gives twice seven days of
warmth, men have called this clement and temperate time the nurse
of the beautiful Halcyon. — Simonides.

5(5 BERENICE.

and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person.
Alas ! its emaciation was excessive, and not one vestige
of the former being lurked in any single line of the
contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the
face.

The forehead was high, and very pale, and singu
larly placid ; and the once jetty hair fell partially
over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with
innumerable ringlets, now of a vivid yellow, and
jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with
the reigning melancholy of the countenance. The
eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupil-
less, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy
stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken
lips. They parted ; and in a smile of peculiar mean
ing, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed them
selves slowly to my view. Would to God that I
had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I
had died !

* * * * * #

The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking
up, I found that my cousin had departed from the
chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my
brain had not, alas ! departed, and would not be driven
away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth.
Not a speck on their surface — not a shade on their
enamel — not an indenture in their edges — but what
that brief period of her smile had sufficed to brand it
upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequi
vocally than I beheld them then. The teeth ! — the
teeth ! — they were here, and there, and everywhere,
and visibly and palpably before me ; long, narrow, and
excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about
them, as in the very moment of their first terrible

BERENICE. 57

development. Then came the full fury of my monomania I
and I struggled in vain against its strange and irre
sistible influence. In the multiplied objects of the
external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth.
For these I longed with a frenzied desire. All other;
matters and all different interests became absorbed in/
their single contemplation. They — they alone were
present to the mental eye, and they, in their sole indi
viduality, became the essence of my mental life. I
held them in every light. I turned them in every
attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt
upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their con
formation. I mused upon the alteration in their
nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them, in imagi
nation, a sensitive and sentient power, and even when
unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression.
Of Mademoiselle Salle it has been well said, " Que
tons ses pas etaient des sentiments" and of Berenice I
more seriously believed que tons ses dents etaient des
idees. De* idccs ! — ah, here was the idiotic thought
that destroyed me ! Des idee* — ah, therefore it was
that I coveted them so madly ! I felt that their pos
session could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving
me back to reason.

And the evening closed in upon me thus — and then
the darkness came, and tarried and went — and the
day again dawned — and the mists of a second night were
now gathering around — and still I sat motionless in
that solitary room — and still I sat buried in meditation
— and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its
terrible ascendency, as, with the most vivid and hideous
distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights
and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke
in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay ;

58 BERENICE.

and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of
troubled voices, intermingled with many low meanings
of sorrow or of pain. I arose from my seat, and throw
ing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing
out in the ante-chamber a servant maiden, all in tears,
who told me that Berenice was no more ! She had
been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and
now, at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready
for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial

were completed.

######

I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting
there alone. It seemed that I had newly awakened
from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it
was now midnight, and I was well aware that since
the setting of the sun Berenice had been interred. But
of that dreary period which intervened I had no posi
tive, at least no definite comprehension. Yet its
memory was replete with horror — horror more horri
ble from being vague, and terror more terrible from
ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record of my
existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and
unintelligible recollections. I strived to decipher them
but in vain ; while ever and anon, like the spirit of
a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a
female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had
done a deed — what was it ? I asked myself the question
aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber
answered me — " What was it f "

On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it
lay a little box. It was of no remarkable character,
and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the prop
erty of the family physician ; but how came it there
upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it ?

BERENICE. 59

These things were in no manner to be accounted for,
and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of
a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The
words were the singular but simple ones of the poet
Ebn Zaiat : — " Hicebant mi hi sodales, si sepulchrum
amicce visitarem, euros meets aliquantulum fore levatas."
Why, then, as I perused them, did the hairs of my
head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my body
become congealed within my veins ?

There came a light tap at the library door — and, pale
as the tenant of a tomb, a menial entered upon tiptoe.
His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in
a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he ?
— some broken sentences I heard. He told of a wild
cry disturbing the silence of the night — of the gathering
together of the household — of a search in the direction
of the sound ; and then his tones grew thrillingly dis
tinct as he whispered me of a violated grave — of a
disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing — still
palpitating — still alive !

He pointed to my garments ; they were muddy and
clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me gently
by the hand ; it was indented with the impress of human
nails, he directed my attention to some object against the
wall. I looked at it for some minutes : it was a spade.
With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the
box that lay upon it. But I could not force it open ;
and, in my tremor, it slipped from my hands, and fell
heavily, and burst into pieces ; and from it, with a ratt
ling sound, there rolled out some instruments of dental
surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white, and
ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro
about the floor.

ELEONORA.

Sub conservatione formae specificae salva amma.

—RAYMOND LULLY.

I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and
ardor of passion. Men have called me mad, but the
question is not yet settled whether madness is or is not
the loftiest intelligence, whether much that is glorious,
whether all that is profound, does not spring from
disease of thought, from mood* of mind exalted at the
expense of the general intellect. They who dream
by day are cognizant of many things which escape
those who dream only by night. In their gray visions
they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking
to find that they have been upon the verge of the great
secret. In snatches they learn something of the wisdom
which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge
which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless
or compassless, into the vast ocean of the " light inef
fable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian
geographer, " agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo
esset exploraturi."

We will say, then, that I am mad. I grant, at least
that there are two distinct conditions of my mental
existence, the condition of a lucid reason not to be dis
puted, and belonging to the memory of events forming
the first epoch of my life, and a condition of shadow
and doubt, appertaining to the present, and to the
recollection of what constitutes the second great era of

(61)

62 ELEONORA.

my being. Therefore, what I shall tell of the earlier
period, believe ; and to what I may relate of the later
time, give only such credit as may seem due ; or doubt
it altogether ; or, if doubt it ye cannot, then play unto
its riddle the CEdipus.

She whom I loved in youth, and of whom I now pen
calmly and distinctly these remembrances, was the sole
daughter of the only sister of my mother long departed.
Eleonora was the name of my cousin. We had always
dwelt together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley
of the Many-Colored Grass. No unguided footstep
ever came upon that vale, for it lay far away up among
a range of giant hills that hung beetling around about
it, shutting out the sunlight from its sweetest recesses.
No path was trodden in its vicinity ; and to reach our
happy home there was need of putting back with force
the foliage of many thousands of forest trees, and of
crushing to death the glories of many millions of
fragrant flowers. Thus it was that we lived all alone,
knowing nothing of the world without the valley, — I,
and my cousin, and her mother.

From the dim regions beyond the mountains at the
upper end of our encircled domain, there crept out a
narrow and deep river, brighter than all save the eyes
of Eleonora ; and winding stealthily about in mazy
courses, it passed away at length through a shadowy
gorge, among hills still dimmer than those whence it
had issued. We called it the " River of Silence," for
there seemed to be a hushing influence in its flow. No
murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered
along that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to
gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but
lay in a motionless content, each in its own old station,
shining on gloriously forever.

ELEONORA. 63

The margin of the river, and of the many dazzling
rivulets that glided through devious ways into its chan
nel, as well as the spaces that extended from the margins
away down into the depths of the streams until they
reached the bed of pebbles at the bottom, these spots,
not less than the whole surface of the valley, from the
river to the mountains that girdled it in, were carpeted
all by a soft green grass, thick, short, perfectly even,
and vanilla-perfumed, but so besprinkled throughout
with the yellow buttercup, the white daisy, the purple
violet, and the ruby-red asphodel, that its exceeding
beauty spoke to our hearts in loud tones of the love and
of the glory of God.

And here and there, in groves about this grass, like
wildernesses of dreams, sprang up fantastic trees, whose
tall slender stems stood not upright, but slanted grace
fully towards the light that peered at noon-day into the
centre of the valley. Their bark was speckled with the
vivid alternate splendor of ebony and silver, and was
smoother than all save the cheeks of Eleonora ; so that
but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread
from their summits in long tremulous lines, dallying with
the zephyrs, one might have fancied them giant serpents
of Syria doing homage to their sovereign the sun.

Hand in hand about this valley, for fifteen years,
roamed I with Eleonora before love entered within our
hearts. It was one evening at the close of the third
lustrum of her life, and of the fourth of my own, that
we sat locked in each other's embrace, beneath the
serpent-like trees, and looked down within the waters
of the River of Silence at our images therein. We
spoke no words during the rest of that sweet day, and
our words even upon the morrow were tremulous and
few. We had drawn the god Eros from that wave,

64 ELEONORA.

and now we felt that he had enkindled within us the
fiery souls of our forefathers. The passions which had
for centuries distinguished our race came thronging with
the fancies for which they had been equally noted,
and together breathed a delirious bliss over the Valley
of the Many-Colored Grass. A change fell upon all
things. Strange, brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burst
out upon the trees where no flowers had been known
before. The tints of the green carpet deepened, and
when, one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there
sprang up in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red
asphodel. And life arose in our paths, for the tall
flamingo, hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds,
flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The golden
and silver fish haunted the river, out of the bosom of
which issued, little by little, a murmur that swelled at
length into a lulling melody more divine than that of
the harp of ^Eoliis, sweeter than all save the voice of
Eleonora. And now, too, a voluminous cloud, which
we had long watched in the regions of Hesper, floated
out thence, all gorgeous in crimson and gold, and
settling in peace above us, sank day by day lower and
lower until its edges rested upon the tops of the moun
tains, turning all their dimness into magnificence; and
shutting us up as if for ever, within a magic prison-
house of grandeur and of glory.

The loveliness of Eleonora was that of the Seraphim ;
but she was a maiden artless and innocent as the brief
life she had led among the flowers. No guile disguised
the fervor of love which animated her heart, and she
examined with me its inmost recesses as we walked
together in the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass, and
discoursed of the mighty changes which had lately taken
place therein.

ELEONORA. 65

At length, having spoken one day, in tears, of the
last sad change which must befall humanity, she thence
forward dwelt only upon this one sorrowful theme
interweaving it into all our converse, as, in the songs
of the bard of Schiraz, the same images are found
occurring again and again in every impressive variation
of phrase.

She had seen that the finger of Death was upon her
bosom — that, like the ephemeron, she had been made
perfect in loveliness only to die ; but the terrors of the
grave to her lay solely in a consideration which she
revealed to me one evening at twilight by the banks
of the River of Silence. She grieved to think that,
having entombed her in the Valley of the Many-
Colored Grass, I would quit for ever its happy re
cesses, transferring the love which now was so pas
sionately her own to some maiden of the outer and
every-day world. And then and there I threw myself
hurriedly at the feet of Eleonora, and ottered up a vow
to herself and to heaven, that I would never bind
myself in marriage to any daughter of Earth — that
I would in no manner prove recreant to her dear
memory, or to the memory of the devout affection with
which she had blessed me. And I called the Mighty
Ruler of the Universe to witness the pious solemnity
of my vow. And the curse which I invoked of Him
and of her, a saint in Elusion, should I prove traitorous
to that promise, involved a penalty the exceeding great
horror of which will not permit me to make record of
it here. And the bright eyes of Eleonora grew brighter
at my words ; and she sighed as if a deadly burthen
had been taken from her breast ; and she trembled and
very bitterly wept ; but she made acceptance of the
vow (for what was she but a child ?) and it made easy

Vol. I.— 5.

66 ELEONORA.

to her the bed of her death. And she said to me, not
many days afterwards, tranquilly dying, that, because
of what I had done for the comfort of her spirit, she
would watch over me in that spirit when departed,
and, if so it were permitted her, return to me visibly
in the watches of the night ; but, if this thing were
indeed beyond the power of the souls in Paradise, that
she would at least give me frequent indications of her
presence; sighing upon me in the evening winds, or
filling the air which I breathed with perfume from the
censers of the angels. And, with these words upon
her lips, she yielded up her innocent life, putting an
end to the first epoch of my own.

Thus far I have faithfully said. But as I pass the
barrier in Time's path, formed by the death of my
beloved, and proceed with the second era of my exist
ence, I feel that a shadow gathers over my brain, and
I mistrust the perfect sanity of the record. But let
me on. Years dragged themselves along heavily, and
still I dwelled within the Valley of the Many-Colored
Grass ; but a second change had come upon all things.
The star-shaped flowers shrank into the stems of the
trees, and appeared no more. The tints of the green
carpet faded ; and, one by one, the ruby-red asphodels
withered away ; and there sprang up, in place of them,
ten by ten, dark, eye-like violets, that writhed uneasily
and were ever encumbered with dew. And Life de
parted from our paths; for the tall flamingo flaunted
no longer his scarlet plumage before us, but flew sadly
from the vale into the hills, with all the gay glowing
birds that had arrived in his company. And the
golden and silver fish swam down through the gorge
at the lower end of our domain and bedecked the sweet
river never again. And the lulling melody that had

ELEONORA. 67

been softer than the wind-harp of ^Eolus, and more
divine than all save the voice of Eleonora, it died little
by little away, in murmurs growing lower and lower,
until the stream returned, at length, utterly, into the
solemnity of its original silence ; and then, lastly, the
voluminous cloud uprose, and, abandoning the tops
of the mountains to the dimness of old, fell back into
the regions of Hesper, and took away all its manifold
golden and gorgeous glories from the Valley of the
Many-Colored Grass.

Yet the promises of Eleonora were not forgotten ;
for I heard the sounds of the swinging of the censers
of the angels ; and streams of a holy perfume floated
ever and ever about the valley ; and at lone hours, when
my heart beat heavily, the winds that bathed my brow
came unto me laden with soft sighs ; and indistinct
murmurs filled often the night air ; and once — oh, but
once only ! I was awakened from a slumber, like the
slumber of death, by the pressing of spiritual lips upon
my own.

But the void within my heart refused, even thus, to
be filled. I longed for the love which had before
filled it to overflowing. At length the valley pained
me through its memories of Eleonora, and I left it for
ever for the vanities and the turbulent triumphs of the
world.

* * # * # #

I found myself within a strange city, where all
things might have served to blot from recollection the
sweet dreams I had dreamed so long in the Valley of
the Many-Colored Grass. The pomps and pagean
tries of a stately court, and the mad clangor of arms,
and the radiant loveliness of woman, bewildered and
intoxicated my brain. But as yet my soul had proved

68 ELEONORA.

true to its vows, and the indications of the presence
of Eleonora were still given me in the silent hours of
the night. Suddenly, these manifestations ceased ; and
the world grew dark before mine eyes ; and I stood
aghast at the burning thoughts which possessed — at the
terrible temptations which beset me ; for there came
from some far, far distant and unknown land, into the
gay court of the king I served, a maiden to whose
beauty my whole recreant heart yielded at once — at
whose footstool I bowed down without a struggle, in the
most ardent, in the most abject worship of love. What
indeed was my passion for the young girl of the valley
in comparison with the fervor and the delirium, and the
spirit-lifting ecstasy of adoration with which I poured
out my whole soul in tears at the feet of the ethereal
Ermengarde ? Oh, bright was the seraph Ermengarde !
and in that knowledge I had room for none other. Oh,
divine was the angel Ermengarde ! and as I looked
down into the depths of her memorial eyes, I thought
only of them — and of her.

I wedded ; — nor dreaded the curse I had invoked ;
and its bitterness was not visited upon me. And once —
but once again in the silence of the night, there came
through my lattice the soft sighs which had forsaken
me ; and they modeled themselves into a familiar and
sweet voice, saying :

" Sleep in peace ! — for the Spirit of Love reigneth and
ruleth, and, in taking to thy passionate heart her who
is Ermengarde, thou art absolved, for reasons which
shall be made known to thee in heaven, of thy vows
unto Eleonora."

WOQC! inv sc

LIGEIA.

And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the
mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God is but a great will per
vading all things by nature of its intentness. Man doth not yield him
self to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness
of his feeble will.— JOSEPH GLANVILL.

I cannot, for my soul, remember how, when, or even
precisely where, I first became acquainted with the
lady Ligeia. Long years have since elapsed, and my
memory is feeble through much suffering. Or, perhaps,
I cannot noiv bring these points to mind, because,
in truth, the character of my beloved, her rare learn
ing, her singular yet placid caste of beauty, and the
thrilling and enthralling eloquence of her low musical
language, made their way into my heart, by paces so
steadily and stealthily progressive, that they have been
unnoticed and unknown. Yet I believe that I met her
first and most frequently in some large, old, decaying
city near the Rhine. Of her family I have surely
heard her speak. That it is of a remotely ancient date
' cannot be doubted. Ligeia ! Ligeia ! Buried in studies
of a nature more than all else adapted to deaden
impressions of the outward world, it is by that sweet
word alone,, by Ligeia, that I bring before mine eyes
in fancy the image of her who is no more. And now,
while I write, a recollection flashes upon me that I
have never known the paternal name of her who was
my friend and my betrothed, and who became the
(69)

70 LIGE1A.

partner of my studies, and finally the wife of my bosom.
Was it a playful charge on the part of my Ligeia ? or
was it a test of my strength of affection, that I should
institute no inquiries upon this point ? or was it rather
a caprice of my own, a wildly romantic offering on the
shrine of the most passionate devotion? I but indis
tinctly recall the fact itself, what wonder that I have
utterly forgotten the circumstances which originated or
attended it ! And indeed if ever that spirit which is
entitled Romance, if ever she, the wan and the misty-
winged Ashtophet of Idolatrous Egypt, presided, as they
tell, over marriages ill-omened, then most surely she
presided over mine.

There is one dear topic, however, on which my
memory fails me not. It is the person of Ligeia. In
stature she was tall, somewhat slender, and in her
latter days, even emaciated. I would in vain attempt
to portray the majesty, the quiet ease of her demeanor,
or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of
her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow. I
was never made aware of her entrance into my closed
study, save by the dear music of her low sweet voice,
as she placed her marble hand upon my shoulder. In
beauty of face no maiden ever equaled her. It was
the radiance of an opium dream, an airy and spirit-
lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies
which hovered about the slumbering souls of the
daughters of Delos. Yet her features were not of that
regular mould which we have been falsely taught to wor
ship in the classical labors of the heathen. " There is
no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speak
ing truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, " without
some strangeness in the proportion." Yet, although I
saw that the features of Ligeia were not of a classic

LIGEIA. 71

regularity, although I perceived that her loveliness was
indeed " exquisite," and felt that there was much of
" strangeness " pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to
detect the irregularity and to trace home my own per
ception of " the strange." I examined the contour of
the lofty and pale forehead — it was faultless ; how
cold indeed that word when applied to a majesty so
divine ! the skin rivaling the purest ivory, the com
manding extent and repose, the gentle prominence of
the regions above the temples ; and then the raven-
black, the glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling
tresses, setting forth the full force of the Homeric
epithet " hyacinthine ! " I looked at the delicate outlines
of the nose, and nowhere but in the graceful medall
ions of the Hebrews had I beheld a similar perfection.
There were the same luxurious smoothness of surface,
the same scarcely perceptible tendency to the aquiline,
the same harmoniously curved nostrils speaking the
free spirit. I regarded the sweet mouth. Here was
indeed the triumph of all things heavenly, the magnifi
cent turn of the short upper lip, the soft, voluptuous
slumber of the under, the dimples which sported, and
the color which spoke, the teeth glancing back, with a
brilliancy almost startling, every ray of the holy light
which fell upon them in her serene and placid, yet most
exultingly radiant of all smiles. I scrutinized the for
mation of the chin — and here, too, I found the gentleness
of breadth, the softness and the majesty, the fullness and
the spirituality of the Greek — the contour which the
god Apollo revealed but in a dream to Cleomenes, the
son of the Athenian. And then I peered into the large
eyes of Ligeia.

For eyes we have no models in the remotely antique.
It might have been, too, that in these eyes of my

72 LIGEIA.

beloved lay the secret to which Lord Verulam alludes.
They were, I must believe, far larger than the ordinary
eyes of our own race. They were even fuller than the
fullest of the gazelle eyes of the tribe of the valley of
Nourjahad. Yet it was only at intervals — in moments
of intense excitement — that this peculiarity became
more than slightly noticeable in Ligeia. And at such
moments was her beauty — in my heated fancy thus it
appeared perhaps — the beauty of beings either above
or apart from the earth — the beauty of the fabulous
Houri of the Turk. The hue of the orbs was the most
brilliant of black, and far over them hung jetty lashes
of great length. The brows, slightly irregular in out
line, had the same tint. The " strangeness," however,
which I found in the eyes, was of a nature distinct from
the formation, or the color, or the brilliancy of the
features, and must after all, be referred to the expression.
Ah, word of no meaning ! behind whose vast latitude
of mere sound we intrench our ignorance of so much of
the spiritual. The expression of the eyes of Ligeia !
How for long hours have I pondered upon it ! How
have I through the whole of a midsummer night strug
gled to fathom it ! What was it — that something more
profound than the well of Democritus — which lay far
within the pupils of my beloved? What was it? I
was possessed with a passion to discover. Those eyes !
those large, those shining, those divine orbs ! they be
came to me twin stars of Leda, and I to them devoutest
of astrologers.

There is no point among the many incomprehensible
anomalies of the science of mind more thrillingly ex
citing than the fact — never, I believe, noticed in the
schools — that in our endeavors to recall to memory
something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon

LIGEIA. 73

the very verge of remembrance, without being able in
the end to remember. And thus how frequently, in
ray intense scrutiny of Ligeia's eyes, have I felt
approaching the full knowledge of their expression —
felt it approaching — yet not quite be mine — and so at
length entirely depart ! And (strange, oh strangest
mystery of all !) I found in the commonest objects of
the universe a circle of analogies to that expression.
I mean to say that, subsequently to the period when
Ligeia's beauty passed into my spirit, there dwelling as
in a shrine, I derived, from many existences in the
material world, a sentiment such as I felt always
around, within me, by her large and luminous orbs.
Yet not the more could I define that sentiment, or
analyze, or even steadily view it. I recognized it, let
me repeat, sometimes in the survey of a rapidly-grow
ing vine, in the contemplation of a moth, a butterfly,
a chrysalis, a stream of running water. I have felt it
in the ocean, in the falling of a meteor. I have felt
it in the glances of unusually aged people. And there
are one or two stars in heaven (one especially a star
of the sixth magnitude, double and changeable, to be
found near the large star in Lyra) in a telescopic
scrutiny of which I have been made aware of the
feeling. I have been filled with it by certain sounds
from stringed instruments, and not unfrequently by
passages from books. Among innumerable other
instances, I well remember something in a volume of
Joseph Glanvill, which (perhaps merely from its
quaintness, who shall say ? ) never failed to inspire
me with the sentiment : " And the will therein lieth,
which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the
will with its vigor? For God is but a great will
pervading all things by nature of its intentness. Man

74 LIGEIA.

doth not yield him to the angels, nor unto death utterly,
save only through the weakness of his feeble will."

Length of years and subsequent reflection have
enabled me to trace, indeed, some remote connection
between this passage in the English moralist and a
portion of the character of Ligeia. An intensity in
thought, action, or speech, was possibly in her a
result, or at least an index, of that gigantic volition
which, during our long intercourse, failed to give other
and more immediate evidence of its existence. Of
all the women whom I have ever known, she, the
outwardly calm, the ever-placid Ligeia, was the most
violently a prey to the tumultuous vultures of stern
passion. And of such passion I could form no esti
mate, save by the miraculous expansion of those eyes
which at once so delighted and appalled me, by the
almost magical melody, modulation, distinctness, and
placidity of her very low voice, and by the fierce
energy (rendered doubly effective by contrast with her
manner of utterance) of the wild words which she
habitually uttered.

I have spoken of the learning of Ligeia : it was
immense — such as I have never known in woman. In
the classical tongues was she deeply proficient, and as
far as my own acquaintance extended in regard to the
modern dialects of Europe, I have never known her
at fault. Indeed upon any theme of the most admired,
because simply the most abstruse of the boasted erudi
tion of the academy, have I ever found Ligeia at fault !
How singularly, how thrillingly, this one point in the
nature of my wife has forced itself, at this late period
only upon my attention ! I said her knowledge was
such as I have never known in woman, but where
breathes the man who has traversed, and successfully,

LIGEIA. 75

all the wide areas of moral, physical, and mathematical
science ? I saw not then what I now clearly perceive,
that the acquisitions of Ligeia were gigantic, were aston
ishing ; yet I was sufficiently aware of her infinite su
premacy to resign myself, with a child-like confidence, to
her guidance through the chaotic world of metaphysical
investigation at which I was most busily occupied during
the earlier years of our marriage. With how vast a tri
umph — with how vivid a delight — with how much of all
that is ethereal in hope, did I feel, as she bent over me in
studies but little sought — but less known — that delicious
vista by slow degrees expanding before me, down whose
long, gorgeous, and all untrodden path, I might at length
pass onward to the goal of a wisdom too divinely precious
not to be forbidden !

How poignant, then, must have been the grief with
which, after some years, I beheld my well-grounded
expectations take wings to themselves and fly away !
AVitliout Ligeia I was but as a child groping benighted.
Her presence, her readings alone, rendered vividly
luminous the many mysteries of the transcendentalism
in which we were immersed. Wanting the radiant
lustre of her eyes, letters, lambent and golden, grew
duller than Saturnian lead. And now those eyes
shone less and less frequently upon the pages over
which I pored. Ligeia grew ill. The wild eyes blazed
with a too — too glorious effulgence ; the pale fingers
became of the transparent waxen hue of the grave ;
and the blue veins upon the lofty forehead swelled and
sank impetuously with the tides of the most gentle
emotion. I saw that she must die — and I struggled
desperately in spirit with the grim Azrael. And the
struggles of the passionate wife were, to my astonish
ment, even more energetic than my own. There had

76 LIOEIA.

been much in her stern nature to impress me with the
belief that, to her, death would have come without its
terrors, but not so. Words are impotent to convey
any just idea of the fierceness of resistance with which
she wrestled with the Shadow. I groaned in anguish
at the pitiable spectacle. I would have soothed, I
would have reasoned ; but in the intensity of her wild
desire for life — for life — but for life — solace and reason
were alike the uttermost of folly. Yet not until the
last instance, amid the most convulsive writhings of
her fierce spirit, was shaken the external placidity of
her demeanor. Her voice grew more gentle — grew
more low — yet I would not wish to dwell upon the
wild meaning of the quietly uttered words. My brain
reeled as I hearkened, entranced, to a melody more
than mortal — to assumptions and aspirations which mor
tality had never before known.

That she loved me I should not have doubted ; and
I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such
as hers, love would have reigned no ordinary passion.
But in death only was I fully impressed with the
strength of her affection. For long hours, detaining
my hand, would she pour out before me the overflow
ing of a heart whose more than passionate devotion
amounted to idolatry. How had I deserved to be so
blessed by such confessions? — how had I deserved to
be so cursed with the removal of my beloved in the
hour of her making them? But upon this subject I
cannot bear to dilate. Let me say only, that in Ligeia's
more than womanly abandonment to a love, alas ! all
unmerited, all unworthily bestowed, I at length recog
nized the principle of her longing, with so wildly
earnest a desire, for the life which was now fleeing so
rapidly away. It is this wild longing — it is this eager

LIGEIA. 77

vehemence of desire for life — but for life — that I have no
power to portray — no utterance capable of expressing.

At high noon of the night in which she departed,
beckoning me peremptorily to her side, she bade me
repeat certain verses composed by herself not many days
before. I obeyed her. They were these :

Lo ! 'tis a gala night

Within the lonesome latter years !
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight

In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see

A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully

The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,

Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly ;

Mere pupi»cts they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things

That shift the scenery to and fro.
Flapping from out their Condor wings

Invisible Woe !
That motley drama ! — Oh, be sure

It shall not be forgot !
With its Phantom chased for evermore,

By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in

To the self-same spot ;
And much of Madness and more of Sin

And Horror, the soul of the plot
But see, amid the mimic rout

A crawling shape intrude !
A blood-red thing that writhes from out

The scenic solitude !
It writhes ! — it writhes ! — with mortal pangs

The mimes become its food,
And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs

In human gore imbued.
Out— out are the lights— out all !

And over each quivering form
The curtain, a funeral pall,

Comes down with the rush of a storm—
And the angels all pallid and wan,

Uprising unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, " Man,"

And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

78 LIGETA.

" O God ! " half shrieked Ligeia, leaping to her feet
and extending her arms aloft with a spasmodic move
ment, as I made an end of these lines — " O God ! O
Divine Father ! shall these things be undeviatingly so ?
Shall this conqueror be not once conquered? Are we
not part and parcel in Thee ? Who — who knoweth the
mysteries of the will with its vigor? Man doth not
yield him to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only
through the weakness of his feeble will."

And now, as if exhausted with emotion, she suffered
her white arms to fall, and returned solemnly to her
bed of death. And as she breathed her last sighs there
came mingled with them a low murmur from her lips.
I bent to them my ear, and distinguished, again, the
concluding words of the passage in Glanvill : — " Man
doth not yield him to the angels nor unto death utterly, save
only through the weakness of his feeble will." .

She died, and I, crushed into the very dust with
sorrow, could no longer endure the lonely desolation
of my dwelling in the dim and decaying city by the
Rhine. I had no lack of what the world calls wealth.
Ligeia had brought me far more, very far more, than
ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. After a few
months therefore of weary and aimless wandering, I
purchased, and put in some repair, an abbey, which I
shall not name, in one of the wildest and least fre
quented portions of fair England. The gloomy and
dreary grandeur of the building, the almost savage
aspect of the domain, the many melancholy and time-
honored memories connected with both, had much
in unison with the feelings of utter abandonment
which had driven me into that remote and unsocial
region of the country. Yet, although the external

LIGEIA. 79

abbey, with its verdant decay hanging about it, suf
fered but little alteration, I gave way, with a child
like perversity, and perchance with a faint hope of
alleviating my sorrows, to a display of more than regal
magnificence within. For such follies, even in child
hood, I had imbibed a taste, and now they came back
to me as if in the dotage of grief. Alas, I feel how
much even of incipient madness might have been dis
covered in the gorgeous and fantastic draperies, in the
solemn carvings of Egypt, in the wild cornices and
furniture, in the Bedlam patterns of the carpets of
tufted gold ! I had become a bounden slave in the
trammels of opium, and my labors and my orders
had taken a coloring from my dreams. But these
absurdities I must not pause to detail. Let me speak
only of that one chamber, ever accursed, whither in a
moment of mental alienation I fled from the altar as
my bride — as the successor of the unforgotten Ligeia
— the fair-haired and blue-eyed Lady Rowena Tre-
vanion of Tremaine.

There is no individual portion of the architecture
and decoration of that bridal chamber which is not
now visibly before me. Where were the souls of the
haughty family of the bride, when, through thirst of
gold, they permitted to pass the threshold of an apart
ment so bedecked, a maiden and a daughter so beloved ?
I have said that I minutely remember the details of
the chamber, yet I am sadly forgetful on topics of
deep moment, and here there was no system, no keep
ing, in the fantastic display, to take hold upon the
memory. The room lay in a high turret of the castel
lated abbey, was pentagonal in shape, and of capacious
size. Occupying the whole southern face of the pen
tagon was the sole window, an immense sheet of

80 LIGEIA.

unbroken glass from Venice, — a single pane, and tinted
of a leaden hue, so that the rays of either the sun or
moon passing through it fell with a ghastly lustre on
the objects within. Over the upper portion of this
huge window extended the trellis-work of an aged
vine which clambered up the massy walls of the turret.
The ceiling, of gloomy-looking oak, was excessively
lofty, vaulted, and elaborately fretted with the wildest
and most grotesque specimens of a semi-Gothic, semi-
Druidical device. From out the most central recess of
this melancholy vaulting, depended by a single chain
of gold with long links, a huge censer of the same
metal, Saracenic in pattern, and with many perfora
tions so contrived that there writhed in and out, as if
endued with a serpent vitality, a continual succession of
parti-colored fires.

Some few ottomans and golden candelabra, of East
ern figure, were in various stations about, and there
was the couch, too, the bridal couch, of an Indian
model, and low, and sculptured of solid ebony, with a
pall-like canopy above. In each of the angles of the
chamber stood on end a gigantic sarcophagus of black
granite, from the tombs of the kings over against
Luxor, with their aged lids full of immemorial sculp
ture. But in the draping of the apartment lay, alas !
the chief phantasy of all. The lofty walls, gigantic in
height, even unproportionably so, were hung from
summit to foot in vast folds with a heavy and massive-
looking tapestry — tapestry of a material which was
found alike as a carpet on the floor, as a covering for
the ottomans and the ebony bed, as a canopy for the
bed, and as the gorgeous volutes of the curtains which
partially shaded the window. The material was the
richest cloth of gold. It was spotted all over, at

LIGEIA. 81

irregular intervals, with arabesque figures about a foot
in diameter, and wrought upon the cloth in patterns
of the most jetty black. But these figures partook of
the true character of the arabesque only when regarded
from a single point of view. By a contrivance now
common, and indeed traceable to a very remote period
of antiquity, they were made changeable in aspect.
To one entering the room they bore the appearance of
simple monstrosities, but upon a farther advance this
appearance gradually departed, and, step by step, as
the visitor moved his station in the chamber, he saw
himself surrounded by an endless succession of the
ghastly forms which belong to the superstition of the
Norman, or arise in the guilty slumbers of the monk.
The phantasmagoric effect was vastly heightened by
the artificial introduction of a strong continual current
of wind behind the draperies, giving a hideous and
uneasy animation to the whole.

In halls such as these, in a bridal chamber such as
this, I passed with the Lady of Tremaine the unhal
lowed hours of the first month of our marriage, passed
them with but little disquietude. That my wife
dreaded the fierce moodiness of my temper, that she
shunned me, and loved me but little, I could not help
perceiving, but it gave me rather pleasure than other
wise. I loathed her with a hatred belonging more to
demon than to man. My memory flew back (oh,
with what intensity of regret ! ) to Ligeia, the beloved,
the august, the beautiful, the entombed. I reveled in
recollections of her purity, of her wisdom, of her lofty,
her ethereal nature, of her passionate, her idolatrous
love. Now, then, did my spirit fully and freely burn
with more than all the fires of her own. In the excite
ment of my opium dreams (for I was habitually fettered

Vol. I.— 6.

82 LIGEIA.

in the shackles of the drug) I would call aloud upon
her name during the silence of the night, or among the
sheltered recesses of the glens by day, as if, through
the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the consuming
ardor of my longing for the departed, I could restore
her to the pathway she had abandoned — ah, could it be
for ever ? upon the earth.

About the commencement of the second month of
the marriage, the Lady Rowena was attacked with
sudden illness, from which her recovery was slow.
The fever which consumed her rendered her nights
uneasy ; and in her perturbed state of half-slumber she
spoke of sounds and of motions in and about the
chamber of the turret, wThich I concluded had no
origin save in the distemper of her fancy, or perhaps
in the phantasmagoric influences of the chamber itself.
She became at length convalescent — finally, well. Yet
but a brief period elapsed, ere a second more violent
disorder again threw her upon a bed of suffering ; and
from this attack her frame, at all times feeble, never
altogether recovered. Her illnesses were, after this
epoch, of alarming character, and of more alarming
recurrence, defying alike the knowledge and the great
exertions of her physicians. With the increase of the
chronic disease which had thus, apparently, taken too
sure hold upon her constitution to be eradicated by
human means, I could not fail to observe a similar
increase in the nervous irritation of her temperament,
and in her excitability by trivial causes of fear. She
spoke again, and now more frequently and pertina
ciously, of the sounds — of the slight sounds — and of the
unusual motions among the tapestries, to which she had
formerly alluded.

One night, near the closing in of September, she

LIGEIA. 83

pressed this distressing subject with more tnan usual
emphasis upon my attention. She had just awakened
from an unquiet slumber, and I had been watching,
with feelings half of anxiety, half of vague terror, the
workings of her emaciated countenance. I sat by the
side of her ebony bed, upon one of the ottomans of
India. She partly arose, and spoke, in an earnest low
whisper, of sounds which she then heard, but which I
could not hear — of motions which she then saw, but
which I could not perceive. The wind was rushing
hurriedly behind the tapestries, and I wished to show
her (what, let me confess it, I could not all believe)
that those almost inarticulate breathings, and those
very gentle variations of the figures upon the wall,
were but the natural effects of that customary rushing
of the wind. But a deadly pallor overspreading her
face, had proved to me that my exertions to reassure
her would be fruitless. She appeared to be fainting,
and no attendants were within call. I remembered
where was deposited a decanter of light wine which had
been ordered by her physicians, and hastened across the
chamber to procure it. But, as I stepped beneath
the light of the censer, two circumstances of a startling
nature attracted my attention. I felt that some pal
pable although invisible object had passed lightly by
my person ; and I saw that there lay upon the golden
carpet, in the very middle of the rich lustre thrown
from the censer, a shadow — a faint, indefinite shadow
of angelic aspect— such as might be fancied for the
shadow of a shade. But I was wild with the excitement
of an immoderate dose of opium, and heeded these
things but little, nor spoke of them to Rowena. Having
found the wine, I recrossed the chamber, and poured
out a goblet-full, which I held to the lips of the

84 LIGEIA.

fainting lady. She had now partially recovered, how
ever, and took the vessel herself, while I sank upon an
ottoman near me, with my eyes fastened upon her per
son. It was then that I became distinctly aware of a
gentle foot-fall upon the carpet, and near the couch ;
and in a second thereafter, as Kowena was in the act
of raising the wine to her lips, I saw, or may have
dreamed that I saw, fall within the goblet, as if from
some invisible spring in the atmosphere of the room,
three or four large drops of a brilliant and ruby-colored
fluid. If this I saw — not so Rowena. She swallowed
the wine unhesitatingly, and I forebore to speak to her
of a circumstance which must, after all I considered,
have been but the suggestion of a vivid imagination,
rendered morbidly active by the terror of the lady, by
the opium, and by the hour.

Yet I cannot conceal it from my own perception
that, immediately subsequent to the fall of the ruby-
drops, a rapid change for the worse took place in the
disorder of my wife ; so that, on the third subsequent
night, the hands of her menials prepared her for the
tomb, and on the fourth I sat alone, with her shrouded
body, in that fantastic chamber which had received her
as my bride. Wild visions, opium-engendered, flitted
shadow-like before me. I gazed with unquiet eye
upon the sarcophagi in the angles of the room, upon
the varying figures of the drapery, and upon the writh
ing of the parti-colored fires in the censer overhead.
My eyes then fell, as I called to mind the circumstances
of a former night, to the spot beneath the glare of the
censer, where I had seen the faint traces of the shadow.
It was there, however, no longer ; and breathing with
greater freedom, I turned my glances to the pallid and
rigid figure upon the bed. Then rushed upon me a

LIGEIA. 85

thousand memories of Ligeia, and then came back
upon my heart, with the turbulent violence of a flood,
the whole of that unutterable woe wTith which I had
regarded her thus enshrouded. The night waned ; and
still, with a bosom full of bitter thoughts of the one only
and supremely beloved, I remained gazing upon the
body of Rowena.

It might have been midnight, or perhaps earlier, or
later, for I had taken no note of time, when a sob,
low, gentle, but very distinct, startled me from my
reverie. I felt that it came from the bed of ebony —
the bed of death. I listened in an agony of supersti
tious terror — but there was no repetition of the sound.
I strained my vision to detect any motion in the corpse,
but there was not the slightest perceptible. Yet I
could not have been deceived. I had heard the noise,
however faint, and my soul was awakened within me.
I resolutely and perseveringly kept my attention riveted
upon the body. Many minutes elapsed before any
circumstance occurred tending to throw light upon the
mystery. At length it became evident that a slight,
a very feeble, and barely noticeable tinge of color had
flushed up within the cheeks, and along the sunken
small veins of the eyelids. Through a species of un
utterable horror and awe, for which the language of
mortality has no sufficiently energetic expression, I felt
my heart cease to beat, my limbs grow rigid where I
sat. Yet a sense of duty finally operated to restore
my self-possession. I could no longer doubt that we
had been precipitate in our preparations — that RowTena
still lived. It was necessary that some immediate
exertion be made ; yet the turret was altogether apart
from the portion of the abbey tenanted by the servants
— there were none within call — I had no means of

86 LIGEIA.

summoning them to my aid without leaving the room
for many minutes — and this I could not venture to do.
I therefore struggled alone in my endeavors to call
back the spirit still hovering. In a short period it was
certain, however, that a relapse had taken place ;
the color disappeared from both eyelid and cheek,
leaving a wanness even more than that of marble ;
the lips became doubly shriveled and pinched up in
the ghastly expression of death ; a repulsive clammi
ness and coldness overspread rapidly the surface of the
body ; and all the usual rigorous stiffness immediately
supervened. I fell back with a shudder upon the
couch from which I had been so startlingly aroused,
and again gave myself up to passionate waking visions
of Ligeia.

An hour thus elapsed, when (could it be possible ?) I
was a second time aware of some vague sound issuing
from the region of the bed. I listened — in extremity
of horror. The sound came again — it was a sigh.
Rushing to the corpse, I saw — distinctly saw — a
tremor upon the lips. In a minute afterwards they
relaxed, disclosing a bright line of the pearly teeth.
Amazement now struggled in my bosom with the
profound awe which had hitherto reigned there alone.
I felt that my vision grew dim, that my reason
wandered ; and it was only by a violent effort that I
at length succeeded in nerving myself to the task
which duty thus once more had pointed out. There
was now a partial glow upon the forehead and upon
the cheek and throat ; a perceptible warmth pervaded
the whole frame ; there was even a slight pulsation at
the heart. The lady lived; and with redoubled ardor
I betook myself to the task of restoration. I chafed
and bathed the temples and the hands, and used every

LIGEIA. 87

exertion which experience, and no little medical read
ing, could suggest. But in vain. Suddenly, the color
fled, the pulsation ceased, the lips resumed the expression
of the dead, and, in an instant afterwards, the whole
body took upon itself the icy chilliness, the livid hue,
the intense rigidity, the sunken outline, and all the
loathsome peculiarities of that which has been for many
days a tenant of the tomb.

And again I sank into visions of Ligeia — and again
(what marvel that I shudder while I write ?) — again
there reached my ears a low sob from the region of the
ebony bed. But why shall I minutely detail the
unspeakable horrors of that night? Why shall I
pause to relate how, time after time, until near the
period of the gray dawn, this hideous drama of revivi
fication was repeated ; how7 each terrific relapse was
only into a sterner and apparently more irredeemable
death ; how each agony wore the aspect of a struggle
with some invisible foe ; and how each struggle was
succeeded by I know not what of wild change in the
personal appearance of the corpse ? Let me hurry to a
conclusion.

The greater part of the fearful night had worn
away, and she who had been dead once again stirred
— and now more vigorously than hitherto, although
arousing from a dissolution more appalling in its utter
hopelessness than any. I had long ceased to struggle
or to move, and remained sitting rigidly upon the
ottoman, a helpless prey to a whirl of violent emotions,
of which extreme awe was perhaps the least terrible,
the least consuming. The corpse, I repeat, stirred,
and now more vigorously than before. The hues of
life flushed up with unwonted energy into the coun
tenance — the limbs relaxed — and, save that the eyelids

88 LIGFJA.

were yet pressed neavily together, and that the ban
dages and draperies of the grave still imparted their
charnel character to the figure, I might have dreamed
that Rowena had indeed shaken off', utterly, the fetters
of death. But if this idea was not, even then, altogether
adopted, I could at least doubt no longer, when, arising
from the bed, tottering, with feeble steps, with closed
eyes, and with the manner of one bewildered in a dream,
the thing that was enshrouded advanced bodily and
palpably into the middle of the apartment.

I trembled not — I stirred not — for a crowd of un
utterable fancies connected with the air, the stature,
the demeanor of the figure, rushing hurriedly through
my brain, had paralyzed — had chilled me into stone.
I stirred not — but gazed upon the apparition. There
was a mad disorder in my thoughts — a tumult unap
peasable. Could it, indeed, be the living Rowena who
confronted me? Could it indeed be Rowena at all
— the fair-haired, the blue-eyed Lady Rowena Tre-
vanion of Tremaine? Why, why should I doubt it?
The bandage lay heavily about the mouth — but then
might it not be the mouth of the breathing Lady of
Tremaine ? And the cheeks — there were the roses as in
her noon of life — yes, these might indeed be the fair
cheeks of the living Lady of Tremaine. And the chin,
with its dimples, as in health, might it not be hers ? —
but had she then grown taller since her malady ? What
inexpressible madness seized me with that thought?
One bound, and I had reached her feet! Shrinking
from my touch, she let fall from her head the ghastly
cerements which had confined it, and there streamed
forth, into the rushing atmosphere of the chamber, huge
masses of long and disheveled hair ; it was blacker than
the wings of midnight! And now slowly opened the

LIGEIA. 89

eyes of the figure which stood before me. — " Here
then, at least," I shrieked aloud, " can I never — can I
never be mistaken — these are the full, and the black
and the wild eyes — of my lost love — of the Lady — of
the LADY LIGEIA."

MORELLA.

AITO Kaff nvro fjfff ai'Tov, [invoEtfieg aift ov.
Itself, by itself solely, ONE everlastingly, and single.

— PLATO. Sympos.

With a feeling of deep yet most singular affection,
I regarded my friend Morel la. Thrown by accident
into her society many years ago, my soul, from our
first meeting burned with fires it had never before
known ; but the fires were not of Eros, and bitter and
tormenting to my spirit was the gradual conviction
that I could in no manner define their unusual mean
ing or regulate their vague intensity. Yet we met ; and
fate bound us together at the altar ; and I never spoke
of passion nor thought of love. She, however, shunned
society, and, attaching herself to me alone, rendered
me happy. It is a happiness to wonder ; it is a happi
ness to dream.

Morella's erudition was profound. As I hope to
live, her talents were of no common order — her powers
of mind were gigantic. I felt this, and, in many
matters became her pupil. I soon, however, found
that perhaps on account of her Presburg education,
she placed before me a number of those mystical writ
ings which are usually considered the mere dross of
the early German literature. These, for what reason
I could not imagine, were her favorite and constant
(91)

92 MORELLA.

study — and that in process of time they became my
own, should be attributed to the simple but effectual
influence of habit and example.

In all this, if I err not, my reason had little to do.
My convictions, or I forget myself, were in no manner
acted upon by the ideal, nor was any tincture of the
mysticism which I read to be discovered, unless I am
greatly mistaken, either in my deeds or in my thoughts.
Persuaded of this, I abandoned myself implicitly to
the guidance of my wife, and entered with an unflinch
ing heart into the intricacies of her studies. And
then — then, when poring over forbidden pages, I felt a
forbidden spirit enkindling within me — would Morella
place her cold hand upon my own, and rake up from
the ashes of a dead philosophy some low, singular
words whose strange meaning burned themselves in
upon my memory. And then, hour after hour, would
I linger by her side, and dwell upon the music of her
voice, until at length its melody was tainted with terror,
and there fell a shadow upon my soul, and I grew
pale, and shuddered inwardly at those too unearthly
tones. And thus, joy suddenly faded into horror, and
the most beautiful became the most hideous, as Hinnom
became Ge-Henna.

It is unnecessary to state the exact character of those
disquisitions which, growing out of the volumes I have
mentioned, formed for so long a time, almost the sole
conversation of Morella and myself. By the learned
in what might be termed theological morality they will
be readily conceived, and by the unlearned they would,
at all events, be little understood. The wild Panthe
ism of Fichte ; the modified Ilahiyyeveoia of Pythago
reans ; and, above all, the doctrines of Identity as urged
by Schelling, were generally the points of discussion

MORELLA. 93

presenting the most of beauty to the imaginative Morella.
That identity which is termed personal, Locke, I think,
truly defines to consist in the sameness of a rational
being. And since by person \ve understand an intelli
gent essence having reason, and since there is a con
sciousness which always accompanies thinking, it is
this which makes us all to be that which we call our
selves, thereby distinguishing us from other beings that
think, and giving us our personal identity. But the
principium indiv id nation is, the notion of that identity
which at death is or is not lost for ever, was to me, at
all times, a consideration of intense interest ; not more
from the perplexing and exciting nature of its conse
quences, than from the marked and agitated manner in
which Morella mentioned them.

But, indeed, the time had now arrived when the
mystery of my wife's manner oppressed me as a spell.
I could no longer bear the touch of her wan fingers,
nor the low tone of her musical language, nor the
lustre of her melancholy eyes. And she knew all this,
but did not upbraid ; she seemed conscious of my
weakness or my folly, and, smiling, called it fate. She
seemed also conscious of a cause, to me unknown, for
the gradual alienation of my regard ; but she gave me
no hint or token of its nature. Yet was she woman,
and pined away daily. In time the crimson spot
settled steadily upon the cheek, and the blue veins upon
the pale forehead became prominent ; and one instant
my nature melted into pity, but in the next I met the
glance of her meaning eyes, and then my soul sickened
and became giddy with the giddiness of one who gazes
downward into some dreary and unfathomable abyss.

Shall I then say that I longed with an earnest and
consuming desire for the moment of Morella's decease ?

94 MORELLA.

I did ; but the fragile spirit clung to its tenement of
clay for many days, for many weeks and irksome
months, until my tortured nerves obtained the mastery
over my mind, and I grew furious through delay, and,
with the heart of a fiend, cursed the days and the hours
and the bitter moments, which seemed to lengthen and
lengthen as her gentle life declined, like shadows in the
dying of the day.

But one autumnal evening, when the winds lay still
in heaven, Morella called me to her bedside. There
was a dim mist over all the earth, and a warm glow
upon the waters, and, amid the rich October leaves of
the forest, a rainbow from the firmament had surely
fallen.

" It is a day of days," she said, as I approached ; " a
day of all days either to live or die. It is a fair day for
the sons of earth and life — ah, more fair for the daugh
ters of heaven and death ! "

I kissed her forehead and she continued :

" I am dying, yet shall I live."

" Morella ! "

" The days have never been when thou couldst love
me — but her whom in life thou didst abhor, in death thou
shalt adore."

"Morella!"

"I repeat that I am dying. But within me is a
pledge of that affection — ah, how little ! — which thou
didst feel for me, Morella. And when my spirit
departs shall the child live — thy child and mine,
Morella's. But thy days shall be days of sorrow —
that sorrow which is the most lasting of impressions,
as the cypress is the most enduring of trees. For the
hours of thy happiness are over ; and joy is not gathered
twice in a life, as the roses of Piestum twice in a year.

MORELLA. 95

Thou shalt no longer, then, play the Teian with time,
but, being ignorant of the myrtle and the vine, thou
shalt bear about with thee thy shroud on earth, as do
the Moslemin at Mecca."

" Morella ! " I cried, " Morella ! how knowest thou
this ? " But she turned away her face upon the pillow,
and a slight tremor coming over her limbs, she thus died,
and I heard her voice no more.

Yet, as she had foretold, her child, to which in dying
she had given birth, and which breathed not until the
mother breathed no more, her child, a daughter, lived.
And she grew strangely in stature and intellect, and was
the perfect resemblance of her who had departed, and I
loved her with a love more fervent than I had believed
it possible to feel for any denizen of earth.

But ere long the heaven of this pure affection
became darkened, and gloom, and horror, and grief,
swept over it in clouds. I said the child grew strangely
in stature and intelligence. Strange, indeed, was her
rapid increase in bodily size, but terrible, oh ! terrible
were the tumultuous thoughts which crowded upon me
while watching the development of her mental being.
Could it be otherwise, when I daily discovered in the
conceptions of the child the adult powers and faculties
of the woman ? when the lessons of experience fell from
the lips of infancy ? and when the wisdom or the pas
sions of maturity I found hourly gleaming from its full
and speculative eye? When, I say, all this became
evident to my appalled senses, when I could no longer
hide it from my soul, nor throw it off from those percep
tions which trembled to receive it, is it to be wondered
at that suspicions, of a nature fearful and exciting,
crept in upon my spirit, or that my thoughts fell back
aghast upon the wild tales and thrilling theories of the

96 MORELLA.

entombed Morella? I snatched from the scrutiny of
the world a being whom destiny compelled me to adore,
and in the rigorous seclusion of my home, watched
with an agonizing anxiety over all which concerned the
beloved.

And as years rolled away, and I gazed day after day
upon her holy, and mild, and eloquent face, and pored
over her maturing form, day after day did I discover
new points of resemblance in the child to her mother,
the melancholy and the dead. And hourly grew darker
these shadows of similitude, and more full, and more
definite, and more perplexing, and more hideously
terrible in their aspect. For that her smile was like
her mother's I could bear ; but then I shuddered at its
too perfect identity ; that her eyes were like Morella's I
could endure ; but then they, too, often looked down
into the depths of my soul with Morella's own intense
and bewildering meaning. And in the contour of the
high forehead, and in the ringlets of the silken hair, and
in the wan fingers which buried themselves therein, and
in the sad musical tones of her speech, and above all —
oh, above all, in the phrases and expressions of the dead
on the lips of the loved and the living, I found food
for consuming thought and horror, for a worm that
would not die.

Thus passed away two lustra of her life, and as
yet my daughter remained nameless upon the earth.
" My child," and " my love," were the designations
usually prompted by a father's affection, and the rigid
seclusion of her days precluded all other intercourse.
Morella's name died with her at her death. Of the
mother I had never spoken to the daughter; it was
impossible to speak. Indeed, during the brief period
of her existence, the latter had received no impressions

MORELLA. 97

from the outward world, save such as might have been
afforded by the narrow limits of her privacy. But at
length the ceremony of baptism presented to my mind,
in its unnerved and agitated condition, a present
deliverance from the terrors of my destiny. And at
the baptismal font I hesitated for a name. And many
titles of the wise and beautiful, of old and modern
times, of my own and foreign lands, came thronging
to my lips, with many, many fair titles of the gentle,
and the happy, and the good. What prompted me
then to disturb the memory of the buried dead ?
What demon urged me to breathe that sound, which
in its very recollection was wont to make ebb the
purple blood in torrents from the temples to the heart?
What fiend spoke from the recesses of my soul, when
amid those dim aisles, and in the silence of the night,
I whispered within the ears of the holy man the
syllables — Morella ? What more than fiend convulsed
the features of my child and overspread them with
hues of death, as starting at that scarcely audible sound,
she turned her glassy eyes from the earth to heaven,
and falling prostrate on the black slabs of our ancestral
vault, responded — " I am here ! "

Distinct, coldly, calmly distinct, fell those few simple
sounds within my ear, and thence like molten lead
rolled hissingly into my brain. Years — years may
pass away, but the memory of that epoch never ! Nor
was I indeed ignorant of the flowers and the vine —
but the hemlock and the cypress overshadowed me
night and day. And I kept no reckoning of time or
place, and the stars of my fate faded from heaven, and
therefore the earth grew dark, and its figures passed
by me like flitting shadows, and among them all I
beheld only — Morella. The winds of the firmament

Vol. I.-7.

98 MORELLA.

breathed but one sound within my ears, and the
ripples upon the sea murmured evermore — Morella.
But she died ; and with my own hands I bore her to
the tomb, and I laughed with a long and bitter laugh
as I found no traces of the first in the charnel where
I laid the second — Morella.

METZENGERSTEIN

METZENGERSTEIN.

Pestis eram vivus— moriens tua rnors ero.

—MARTIN LUTHER.

Horror and fatality have been stalking abroad in all
ages. Why then give a date to the story I have to
tell? Let it suffice to say, that at the period of which
I speak, there existed in the interior of Hungary a
settled although hidden belief in the doctrines of the
Metempsychosis. Of the doctrines themselves — that
is, of their falsity or of their probability — I say nothing.
I assert, however, that much of our incredulity (as La
Bruyere says of all our unhappiness) " vient tie ne
pouvoir etre aeu-ls"*

But there were some points in the Hungarian super
stition which were fast verging to absurdity. They,
the Hungarians, differed very essentially from their
Eastern authorities. For example — " The soul" said
the former — I give the words of an acute and intelligent
Parisian — " ne demeure qiCune seule fols dans un corps
sensible. Ainsi — un cheval, nn chien, nn homme meme,
ne que la resemblance illusoire des ces etres."

The families of Berlifitzing and Metzengerstein had
been at variance for centuries. Never before were

* Mercier, in " Van deux mille quatre cent quarante," seriously main
tains the doctrines of the Metempsychosis, and I. D'Israeli says that " no
system is so simple and so little repugnant to the understanding."
Colonel Ethan Allan, the " Green Mountain Boy," is also said to have
been a serious rnetempsychosist.

(99)

100 METZENGERSTEIN.

two houses so illustrious, mutually embittered by hostil
ity so deadly. The origin of this enmity seems to be
found in the words of an ancient prophecy — " A lofty
name shall have a fearful fall when, as the rider over
his horse, the mortality of Metzengerstein shall triumph
over the immortality of Berlifitzing."

To be sure the words themselves had little or no
meaning. But more trivial causes have given rise —
and that no long while ago — to consequences equally
eventful. Besides, the estates, which were contiguous,
had long exercised a rival influence in the affairs of a
busy government. Moreover, near neighbors are
seldom friends ; and the inhabitants of the Castle
Berlifitzing might look from their lofty buttresses,
into the very windows of the Palace Metzengerstein.
Least of all had the more than feudal magnificence
thus discovered a tendency to allay the irritable feelings
of the less ancient and less wealthy Berlifitzings.
What wonder then, that the words, however silly, of
that prediction, should have succeeded in setting and
keeping at variance two families already predisposed to
quarrel by every instigation of hereditary jealousy?
The prophecy seemed to imply, if it implied anything, a
final triumph on the part of the already more powerful
house ; and was of course remembered with the more
bitter animosity by the weaker and less influential.

Wilhelm, Count Berlifitzing, although loftily de
scended, was, at the epoch of this narrative, an infirm
and doting old man, remarkable for nothing but an
inordinate and inveterate personal antipathy to the
family of his rival, and so passionate a love of horses,
and of hunting, that neither bodily infirmity, great age
nor mental incapacity, prevented his daily participation
in the dangers of the chase.

METZENGERSTEIN. 101

Frederick, Baron Metzengerstein, was, on the other

hand, not yet of age. His father, the Minister G ,

died young. His mother, the Lady Mary, followed
him quickly. Frederick was at that time in his
eighteenth year. In a city eighteen years are no long
period : but in a wilderness — in so magnificent a wilder
ness as that old principality, the pendulum vibrates with
a deeper meaning.

From some peculiar circumstances attending the
administration of his father, the young Baron, at the
decease of the former, entered immediately upon his
vast possessions. Such estates were seldom held before
by a nobleman of Hungary. His castles were without
number. The chief in point of splendor and extent was
the " Palace Metzengerstein." The boundary line of
his dominions was never clearly defined, but his princi
pal park embraced a circuit of fifty miles.

Upon the succession of a proprietor so young, with a
character so well known, to a fortune so unparalleled,
little speculation was afloat in regard to his probable
course of conduct. And indeed for the space of three
days, the behavior of the heir out-Heroded Herod,
and fairly surpassed the expectations of his most
enthusiastic admirers. Shameful debaucheries — flagrant
treacheries — unheard-of atrocities — gave his trembling
vassals quickly to understand that no servile submission
on their part — no punctilios of conscience on his own
— were thenceforward to prove any security against
the remorseless fangs of a petty Caligula. On the
night of the fourth day, the stables of the Castle
Berlifitzing were discovered to be on fire ; and the
unanimous opinion of the neighborhood added the crime
of the incendiary to the already hideous list of the
Baron's misdemeanors and enormities.

102 METZENGERSTEIN.

But during the tumult occasioned by this occur
rence, the young nobleman himself, sat, apparently
buried in meditation, in a vast and desolate upper
apartment of the family palace of Metzengerstein.
The rich although faded tapestry hangings which swung
gloomily upon the walls, represented the shadowy
and majestic forms of a thousand illustrious ancestors.
Here, rich-ermined priests and pontifical dignitaries,
familiarily seated with the autocrat and the sovereign,
put a veto on the wishes of a temporal king, or re
strained with the fiat of papal supremacy the rebellious
sceptre of the Arch-enemy. There, the dark tall
statures of the Princes Metzengerstein — their muscular
war-coursers plunging over the carcases of fallen foes
— startled the steadiest nerves with their vigorous ex
pression ; and here again, the voluptuous and swan-like
figures of the dames of days gone by, floated away in
the mazes of an unreal dance to the strains of imagi
nary melody.

But as the Baron listened or affected to listen to the
gradually increasing uproar in the stables of Berlifitz-
ing — or perhaps pondered upon some more novel, some
more decided act of audacity — his eyes were turned
unwittingly to the figure of an enormous and unnatu
rally colored horse, represented in the tapestry as
belonging to a Saracen ancestor of the family of his
rival. The horse itself, in the foreground of the
design, stood motionless and statue-like — while further
back, its discomfited rider perished by the dagger of a
Metzengerstein.

On Frederick's lip arose a fiendish expression as he
became aware of the direction which his glance had,
without his consciousness, assumed. Yet he did not
remove it. On the contrary, he could by no means

METZENGERSTEIN. 103

account for the overwhelming anxiety which appeared
falling like a pall upon his senses. It was with diffi
culty that he reconciled his dreamy and incoherent feel
ings with the certainty of being awake. The longer he
gazed the more absorbing became the spell — the more
impossible did it appear that he could ever withdraw
his glance from the fascination of that tapestry. But
the tumult without becoming suddenly more violent,
with a compulsory exertion he diverted his attention to
the glare of ruddy light thrown full by the flaming
stables upon the windows of the apartment.

The action, however, was but momentary ; his gaze
returned mechanically to the wall. To his extreme
horror and astonishment the head of the gigantic steed
had in the meantime altered its position. The neck of
the animal, before arched, as if in compassion, over the
prostrate body of his lord, was now extended at full
length in the direction of the Baron. The eyes, before
invisible, now wore an energetic and human expression,
while they gleamed with a fiery and unusual red ; and
the distended lips of the apparently enraged horse left
in full view his sepulchral and disgusting teeth.

Stupefied with terror the young nobleman tottered
to the door. As he threw it open a flash of red light,
streaming far into the chamber, flung his shadow with
a clear outline against the quivering tapestry ; and he
shuddered to perceive that shadow — as he staggered
awhile upon the threshold — assuming the exact position,
and precisely filling up the contour of the relentless and
triumphant murderer of the Saracen Berlifitzing.

To lighten the depression of his spirits the Baron
hurried into the open air. At the principal gate of the
palace he encountered three equerries. With much
difficulty, and at the imminent peril of their lives, they

104 METZENGERSTEIN.

were restraining the convulsive plunges of a gigantic
and fiery colored horse.

" Whose horse ? Where did you get him ? " demanded
the youth in a querulous and husky tone, as he became
instantly aware that the mysterious steed in the tapes
tried chamber was the very counterpart of the furious
animal before his eyes.

" He is your own property, sire," replied one of the
equerries ; " at least he is claimed by no other owner.
We caught him flying, all smoking and foaming with
rage, from the burning stables of the Castle Berlifitzing.
Supposing him to have belonged to the old Count's stud
of foreign horses we led him back as an estray. But the
grooms there disclaim any title to the creature, which is
strange, since he bears evident marks of having made a
narrow escape from the flames."

"The letters W. V. B. are also branded very dis
tinctly on his forehead," interrupted a second equerry ;
" I supposed them of course to be the initials of Wilhelm
Von Berlifitzing — but all at the castle are positive in
denying any knowledge of the horse."

" Extremely singular ! " said the young Baron with a
musing air, and apparently unconscious of the meaning
of his words. " He is as you say a remarkable horse —
a prodigious horse ! although, as you very justly observe,
of a suspicious and untractable character; let him be
mine, however," he added, after a pause, " perhaps a
rider like Frederick of Metzengerstein may tame even
the devil from the stables of Berlifitzing."

" You are mistaken, my lord ; the horse, as I think
we mentioned, is not from the stables of the Count.
If such had been the case, we know our duty better
than to bring him into the presence of a noble of your
family."

METZENGERSTEIN. 105

" True ! " observed the Baron dryly ; and at that
instant a page of the bed-chamber came from the
palace with a heightened color and a precipitate step.
He whispered into his master's ear an account of the
sudden disappearance of a small portion of the tapestry
in an apartment which he designated, entering at the
same time into particulars of a minute and circumstan
tial character ; but from the low tone of voice in which
these latter were communicated, nothing escaped to
gratify the excited curiosity of the equerries.

The young Frederick during the conference seemed
agitated by a variety of emotions. He soon, however,
recovered his composure, and an expression of deter
mined malignancy settled upon his countenance as he
gave peremptory orders that the apartment in question
should be immediately locked up, and the key placed in
his own possession.

" Have you heard of the unhappy death of the old
hunter Berlifitzing ? " said one of his vassals to the
Baron, as, after the departure of the page, the huge
steed which that nobleman had adopted as his own
plunged and curvetted with redoubled fury down the
long avenue which extended from the palace to the
stables of Metzengerstein.

" No ! " said the Baron, turning abruptly towards the
speaker ; " dead ! say you ? "

" It is indeed true, my lord ; and, to the noble of
your name, will be, I imagine, no unwelcome intelli
gence."

A rapid smile shot over the countenance of the
listener. " How died he ? "

" In his rash exertions to rescue a favorite portion of
his hunting stud, he has himself perished miserably in
the flames."

106 METZENGERSTEIN.

" I — n — d — e — e — d — ! " ejaculated the Baron, as
if slowly and deliberately impressed with the truth of
some exciting idea.

" Indeed," repeated the vassal.

" Shocking ! " said the youth calmly, and turned
quietly into the palace.

From this date a marked alteration took place in the
outward demeanor of the dissolute young Baron Fred
erick Von Metzengerstein. Indeed, his behavior dis
appointed every expectation, and proved little in
accordance with the views of many a manoeuvring
mamma ; while his habits and manners, still less than
formerly, offered anything congenial with those of the
neighboring aristocracy. He was never to be seen
beyond the limits of his own domain, and in this wide
and social world was utterly companionless — unless
indeed that unnatural, impetuous, and fiery colored
horse, which he henceforward continually bestrode, had
any mysterious right to the title of his friend.

Numerous invitations on the part of the neighbor
hood for a long time, however, periodically came in.
" Will the Baron honor our festivals with his presence ? "
" AVill the Baron join us in a hunting of the boar ? " —
" Metzengerstein does not hunt ; " " Metzengerstein
will not attend," were the haughty and laconic
answers.

These repeated insults were not to be endured by
an imperious nobility. Such invitations became less
cordial, less frequent ; in time they ceased altogether.
The widow of the unfortunate Count Berlifitzing was
even heard to express a hope " that the Baron might
be at home when he did not wish to be at home, since
he disdained the company of his equals; and ride
when he did not wish to ride, since he preferred the

METZENGERSTEIN. 107

society of a horse." This to be sure was a very silly
explosion of hereditary pique, and merely proved how
singularly unmeaning our sayings are apt to become
when we desire to be unusually energetic.

The charitable, nevertheless, attributed the altera
tion in the conduct of the young nobleman to the
natural sorrow' of a son for the untimely loss of his
parents ; forgetting, however, his atrocious and reck
less behavior during the short period immediately
succeeding that bereavement. Some there were, indeed,
who suggested a too haughty idea of self-consequence and
dignity. Others again (among whom may be mentioned
the family physician) did not hesitate in speaking of
morbid melancholy and hereditary ill-health, while dark
hints of a more equivocal nature were current among
the multitude.

Indeed, the Baron's perverse attachment to his lately
acquired charger — an attachment which seemed to
attain new strength from every fresh example of the
animal's ferocious and demon-like propensities — at
length became, in the eyes of all reasonable men, a
hideous and unnatural fervor. In the glare of noon —
at the dead hour of night — in sickness or in health —
in calm or in tempest — the young Metzengerstein
seemed riveted to the saddle of that colossal horse,
whose intractable audacities so well accorded with his
own spirit.

There were circumstances, moreover, which, coupled
wTith late events, gave an unearthly and portentous
character to the mania of the rider, and to the capa
bilities of the steed. The space passed over in a single
leap had been accurately measured, and was found to
exceed, by an astounding difference, the wildest expecta
tions of the most imaginative. The Baron, besides,

103 METZENGERSTEIN.

had no particular name for the animal, although all
the rest of his collection were distinguished by charac
teristic appellations. His stable, too, was appointed at
a distance from the rest ; and with regard to groom
ing and other necessary offices, none but the owner in
person had ventured to officiate, or even to enter the
enclosure of that horse's particular stall. It was also
to be observed, that although the three grooms, who
had caught the steed as he fled from the conflagration
at Berlifitzing, had succeeded in arresting his course
by means of a chain-bridle and noose — yet no one of
the three could with any certainty affirm that he had,
during that dangerous struggle, or at any period there
after, actually placed his hand upon the body of the
beast. Instances of peculiar intelligence in the de
meanor of a noble and high-spirited horse are not to
be supposed capable of exciting unreasonable attention,
but there were certain circumstances which intruded
themselves per force upon the most skeptical and phleg
matic ; and it is said there were times when the animal
caused the gaping crowd who stood around to recoil
in horror from the deep and impressive meaning of
his terrible stamp — times when the young Metzenger-
stein turned pale and shrunk away from the rapid and
searching expression of his earnest and human-looking
eye.

Among all the retinue of the Baron, however, none
were found to doubt the ardor of that extraordinary
affection which existed on the part of the young noble
man for the fiery qualities of his horse ; at least none
but an insignificant and misshapen little page, whose
deformities wrere in everybody's way, and whose opinions
were of the least possible importance. He ( if his ideas
are worth mentioning at all) had the effrontery to

METZENGERSTEIN. 109

assert that his master never vaulted into the saddle
without an unaccountable and almost imperceptible
shudder ; and that, upon his return from every long-
continued and habitual ride, an expression of trium
phant malignity distorted every muscle in his coun
tenance.

One tempestuous night Metzengerstein, awaking from
heavy slumber, descended like a maniac from his cham
ber, and mounting in hot haste, bounded away into the
mazes of the forest. An occurrence so common at
tracted no particular attention, but his return was
looked for with intense anxiety on the part of his do
mestics, when, after some hours' absence, the stupend
ous and magnificent battlements of the Palace Metzen
gerstein were discovered crackling and rocking to their
very foundation under the influence of a dense and livid
mass of ungovernable fire.

As the flames, when first seen, had already made so
terrible a progress that all efforts to save any portion of
the building were evidently futile, the astonished neigh
borhood stood idly round in silent, if not apathetic
wonder. But a new and fearful object soon riveted the
attention of the multitude, and proved how much more
intense is the excitement wrought in the feelings of a
crowd by the contemplation of human agony than that
brought about by the most appalling spectacles of inani
mate matter.

Up the long avenue of aged oaks which led from the
forest to the main entrance of the Palace Metzengerstein,
a steed, bearing an unbonneted and disordered rider,
was seen leaping with an impetuosity which outstripped
the very Demon of the Tempest.

The career of the horseman was indisputably, on his
own part, uncontrollable. The agony of his countenance,

110 METZENQEBSTEIN.

the convulsive struggle of his frame, gave evidence of
superhuman exertion ; but no sound, save a solitary
shriek, escaped from his lacerated lips, which were bitten
through and through in the intensity of terror. One
instant, and the clattering of hoofs resounded sharply
and shrilly above the roaring of the flames and the
shrieking of the winds — another, and clearing at a single
plunge the gateway and the moat, the steed bounded far
up the tottering staircases of the palace, and, with its
rider, disappeared amid the whirlwind of chaotic fire.

The fury of the tempest immediately died awray, and
a dead calm suddenly succeeded. A white flame still
enveloped the building like a shroud, and, streaming
far away into the quiet atmosphere, shot forth a glare
of preternatural light ; while a cloud of smoke settled
heavily over the battlements in the distinct colossal
figure of — a horse.

THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

In the consideration of the faculties and impulses —
of the prima mobilia of the human soul, the phrenol
ogists have failed to make room for a propensity
which, although obviously existing as a radical, primi
tive, irreducible sentiment, has been equally overlooked
by all the moralists who have preceded them. In the
pure arrogance of the reason, we have all overlooked
it. We have suffered existence to escape our senses
solely through want of belief — of faith ; whether it be
faith in revelation, or faith in the Kabbala, The idea
of it has never occurred to us, simply because of its
supererogation. We saw no need of the impulse — for
the propensity. We could not perceive its necessity.
We could not understand, that is to say, we could not
have understood had the notion of this primum mobile
ever obtruded itself; we could not have understood in
what manner it might be made to further the objects
of humanity, either temporal or eternal. It cannot be
denied that phrenology, and in a great measure, all
metaphysicianism, have been concocted a priori. The
intellectual or logical man, rather than the understand
ing or observant man, set himself to imagine designs
— to dictate purposes to God. Having thus fathomed
to his satisfaction the intentions of Jehovah, out of
these intentions he built his innumerable systems of
mind. In the matter of phrenology, for example, we
first determined, naturally enough, that it was the
(111)

112 THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

design of the Deity that man should eat. — We then
assigned to man an organ of alimentiveness, and this
organ is the scourge with which the Deity compels
man, will I nill I, into eating. Secondly, having
settled it to be God's will that man should continue
his species, we discovered an organ of amativeness,
forthwith ; and so with combativeness, with ideality,
with causality, with constructiveness, — so, in short
with every organ, whether representing a propensity,
a moral sentiment, or a faculty of the pure intellect.
And in these arrangements of the principia of human
action, the Spurzheimites, whether right or wrong, in
part or upon the whole, have but followed in princi
ple the footsteps of their predecessors, deducing and
establishing everything from the preconceived destiny
of man, and upon the ground of the objects of his
Creator.

It would have been wiser, it would have been safer
to classify (if classify we must) upon the basis of what
man usually or occasionally did, and was always
occasionally doing, rather than upon the basis of what
we took it for granted the Deity intended him to do.
If we cannot comprehend God in His visible works,
how then in His inconceivable thoughts that call the
works into being? If we cannot understand Him in
His objective creatures, how then in His substantive
moods and phases of creation ?

Induction, a posteriori, would have brought phrenol
ogy to admit, as an innate and primitive principle of
human action, a paradoxical something which we may
cull perverseness, for want of a more characteristic
term. In the sense I intend it is, in fact a mobile
without motive, a motive not motivirt. Through its
promptings we act without comprehensible object ; or,

THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE. 113

if this shall be understood as a contradiction in terms,
we may so far modify the proposition as to say that
through its promptings we act for the reason that we
should not. In theory, no reason can be more un
reasonable ; but, in fact, there is none more strong.
With certain minds, under certain conditions, it be
comes absolutely irresistible. I am not more certain
that I breathe than that the assurance of the wrong or
error of any action is often the one unconquerable
force which impels us, and alone impels us to its pros
ecution. Nor will this overwhelming tendency to do
wrong for the wrong's sake admit of analysis or
resolution into ulterior elements. It is a radical, a
primitive impulse — elementary. It will be said, I am
aware, that when we persist in acts because we feel we
should not persist in them, our conduct is but a modi
fication of that which ordinarily springs from the com-
bativeness of phrenology. But a glance will show the
fallacy of this idea. The phrenological combativeness
has for its essence the necessity of self-defence. It is
our safeguard against injury. Its principle regards
our well-being ; and thus the desire to be well is
excited simultaneously with its development. It fol
lows that the desire to be well must be excited simulta
neously with any principle which shall be merely a
modification of combativeness, but in the case of that
something which I term perverseness, the desire to be
well is not only not aroused, but a strongly antagonisti-
cal sentiment exists.

An appeal to one's own heart is after all the best reply
to the sophistry just noticed. No one who trustingly
consults and thoroughly questions his own soul, will
be disposed to deny the entire radicalness of the pro
pensity in question. It is not more incomprehensible

Vol. I.-8.

114 THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

than distinctive. There lives no man who at some
period has not been tormented, for example, by an
earnest desire to tantalize a listener by circumlocution.
The speaker is aware that he displeases ; he has every
intention to please ; he is usually curt, precise, and
clear ; the most laconic and luminous language is
struggling for utterance upon his tongue ; it is only
with difficulty that he restrains himself from giving it
flow ; he dreads and deprecates the anger of him whom
he addresses ; yet the thought strikes him that, by cer
tain involutions and parentheses, this anger may be
engendered. That single thought is enough. The
impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the
desire to an uncontrollable longing, and the longing
(to the deep regret and mortification of the speaker,
and in defiance of all consequences) is indulged.

We have a task before us which must be speedily
performed. We know that it will be ruinous to make
delay. The most important crisis of our life calls,
trumpet-tongued, for immediate energy and action.
We glow, we are consumed with eagerness to commence
the work, with the anticipation of whose glorious re
sult our whole souls are on fire. It must, it shall be
undertaken to-day, and yet we put it off until
to-morrow ; and why ? There is no answer except
that we feel perverse, using the word with no compre
hension of the principle. To-morrow arrives, and with
it a more impatient anxiety to do our duty, but with
this very increase of anxiety arrives, also, a nameless, a
positively fearful, because unfathomable, craving for
delay. This craving gathers strength as the moments
fly. The last hour for action is at hand. We tremble
with the violence of the conflict within us — of the
definite with the indefinite — of the substance with the

THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE. 115

shadow. But, if the contest have proceeded thus far,
it is the shadow which prevails — we struggle in vain.
The clock strikes, and is the knell of our welfare. At
the same time, it is the chanticleer-note to the ghost
that has so long overawed us. It flies — it disappears
— we are free. The old energy returns. We will labor
now. Alas, it is too late !

We stand upon the brink of a precipice. We peer
into the abyss — we grow sick and dizzy. Our first
impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably
we remain. By slow degrees our sickness, and dizzi
ness, and horror, become merged in a cloud of unname-
able feeling. By gradations, still more imperceptible,
this cloud assumes shape, as did the vapor from the
bottle out of which arose the genius in the Arabian
Nights. But out of this our cloud upon the precipice's
edge there grows into palpability a shape, far more
terrible than any genius, or any demon of a tale, and
yet it is but a thought, although a fearful one, and
one which chills the very marrow of our bones with
the fierceness of the delight of its horror. It is merely
the idea of what would be our sensations during the
sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height ;
and this fall — this rushing annihilation — for the very
reason that it involves that one most ghastly and
loathsome of all the most ghastly and loathsome
images of death and suffering which have ever pre
sented themselves to our imagination — for this very
cause do we now the most vividly desire it ; ancf be^_
cause our reason violently deters us from the brink,
therefore do we the more impetuously approacn it.
There is no passion ifTnatu re so demoniacally mipatient
as that of him, who shuddering upon the edge of a
precipice, thus meditates a plunge. To indulge for a

116 THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

moment in any attempt at thought is to be inevitably
lost ; for reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore
it is I say that we cannot. If there be no friendly arm
to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate
ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge and are
destroyed.

Examine these and similar actions as we will, we
shall find them resulting solely from the spirit of the
perverse. We perpetrate them merely because we feel
that we should not. Beyond or behind this there is no
intelligible principle ; and we might indeed deem this
perverseness a direct instigation of the arch-fiend, were
it not occasionally known to operate in furtherance
of good.

I have said thus much, that in some measure I may
answer your question — that I may explain to you why I
am here — that I may assign to you something that shall
have at least the faint aspect of a cause for my wearing
these fetters, and for my tenanting this cell of the con
demned Had I not been thus prolix, you might either
have misunderstood me altogether, or with the rabble
have fancied me mad. As it is, you will easily perceive
that I am one of the many uncounted victims of the
Imp of the Perverse.

It is impossible that any deed could have been
wrought with a more thorough deliberation. For
weeks, for months, I pondered upon the means of the
murder. I rejected a thousand schemes because their
accomplishment involved a chance of detection. At
length, in reading some French memoirs, I found an
account of a nearly fatal illness that occurred to
Madame Pilau, through the agency of a candle acci
dentally poisoned. The idea struck my fancy at once.
I knew my victim's habit of reading in bed. I knew,

THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE. 117

too, that his apartment was narrow and ill-ventilated.
But I need not vex you with impertinent details. I
need not describe the easy artifices by which I substi
tuted, in his bedroom candlestand, a wax light of my
own making for the one which I there found. The
next morning he was discovered dead in his bed and
the coroner's verdict was — " Death by the visitation of
God."

Having inherited his estate all went well with me
for years. The idea of detection never once entered
my brain. Of the remains of the fatal taper, I had
myself carefully disposed. I had left no shadow of a
clue by which it would be possible to convict, or even
to suspect me of the crime. It is inconceivable how
rich a sentiment of satisfaction arose in my bosom as
I reflected upon my absolute security. For a very
long period of time I was accustomed to revel in this
sentiment. It afforded me more real delight than all
the mere worldly advantages accruing from my sin.
But there arrived at length an epoch from which the
pleasurable feeling grew, by scarcely perceptible
gradations, into a haunting and harassing thought.
It harassed because it haunted. I could scarcely get
rid of it for an instant. It is quite a common thing
to be thus annoyed with the ringing in our ears, or
rather in our memories, of the burthen of some ordinary
song or some unimpressive snatches from an opera.
Nor will we be the less tormented if the song in itself be
good, or the opera air meritorious. In this manner, at
last, I would perpetually catch myself pondering upon
my security, and repeating in a low under-tone the
phrase, " I am safe."

One day whilst sauntering along the streets, I
arrested myself in the act of murmuring half-aloud

118 THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE.

these customary syllables. In a fit of petulance I re
modeled them thus : — " I am safe — I am safe — yes, if I
be not fool enough to make open confession ? "

No sooner had I spoken these words than I felt an
icy chill creep to my heart. I had had some experi
ence in these fits of perversity (whose nature I have
been at some trouble to explain), and I remembered
well that in no instance I had successfully resisted their
attacks ; and now my own casual self-suggestion, that I
might possibly be fool enough to confess the murder of
which I had been guilty confronted me, as if the very
ghost of him whom I had murdered — and beckoned me
on to death.

At first I made an effort to shake off this nightmare
of the soul. I walked vigorously, faster, still faster, at
length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek
aloud. Every succeeding wave of thought overwhelmed
me with new terror, for alas ! I well, too well, under
stood that to think in my situation was to be lost. I
still quickened my pace. I bounded like a madman
through the crowded thoroughfares. At length the
populace took the alarm and pursued me. I felt then
the consummation of my fate. Could I have torn out
my tongue I would have done it — but a rough voice
resounded in my ears — a rougher grasp seized me by
the shoulder. I turned — I gasped for breath. For a
moment I experienced all the pangs of suffocation ; I
became blind and deaf and giddy ; and then some in
visible fiend, I thought, struck me with his broad palm
upon the back. The long-imprisoned secret burst forth
from my soul.

They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation,
but with marked emphasis and passionate hurry, as if
in dread of interruption before concluding the brief

THE IMP OF THE PERVERSE. 119

but pregnant sentences that consigned me to the hang
man and to hell.

Having related all that was necessary for the fullest
judicial conviction, I fell prostrate in a swoon.

But wrhy shall I say more? To-day I wear these
chains and am here ! To-morrow I shall be fetterless !
— but where f

WoSel.pinx.

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

Son cceur est un luth suspendu ;

Sitot qu'ou le louche il r6sonne. — DE BKRANGER.

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day
in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung
oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing
alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract
of country, and at length found myself, as the shades
of evening drew on, within view of the melancholy
House of Usher. I know not how it was — but, with
the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable
gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable ; for the
feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable,
because poetic sentiment, with which the mind usually
receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate
or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me — upon
the mere house, and the simple landscape features of
the domain — upon the bleak walls — upon the vacant
eye-like windows — upon a few rank sedges — and upon
a few white trunks of decayed trees — with an utter
depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly
sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the
reveler upon opium — the bitter lapse into every -day
life — the hideous dropping of the veil. There was an
iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart — an un
redeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of
the imagination could torture into aught of the sub
lime. What was it — I paused to think — what it was
(121)

122 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House
of Usher ? it was a mystery all insoluble ; nor could I
grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon
me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the
unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt,
there are combinations of very simple natural objects
which have the power of thus affecting us, still the
analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond
our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere dif
ferent arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of
the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify,
or perhaps to annihilate, its capacity for sorrowful im
pression ; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse
to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that
lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down
— but with a shudder more thrilling than before — upon
the remodeled and inverted images of the gray sedge,
and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like
windows.

Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now pro
posed to myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor,
Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions
in boyhood ; but many years had elapsed since our last
meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me
in a distant part of the country — a letter from him —
which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted
of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave
evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of
acute bodily illness — of a mental disorder which op
pressed him — and of an earnest desire to see me, as his
best, and indeed his only personal friend, with a view
of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some
alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which
all this, and much more, was said — it was the apparent

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 123

heart that went with his request — which allowed me no
room for hesitation, and I accordingly obeyed forthwith
what I still considered a very singular summons.

Although, as boys, we had been even intimate asso
ciates, yet I really knew little of my friend. His re
serve had been always excessive and habitual. I was
aware, however, that his very ancient family had been
noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of
temperament, displaying itself through long ages in
many works of exalted art, and manifested of late in
repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity,
as well as in a passionate devotion to the intricacies,
perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easily
recognizable beauties of musical science. I had learned,
too, the very remarkable fact that the stem of the Usher
race, all time-honored as it was, had put forth at no
period any enduring branch ; in other words, that the
entire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had
always, with very trifling and very temporary variation,
so lain. It was this deficiency, I considered, while run
ning over in thought the perfect keeping of the character
of the premises with the accredited character of the
people, and while speculating upon the possible influ
ence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might
have exercised upon the other — it was this deficiency
perhaps of collateral issue, and the consequent umlevi-
ating transmission from sire to son of the patrimony
with the name, which had at length so identified the
two as to merge the original title of the estate in the
quaint and equivocal appellation of the " House of
Usher " — an appellation which seemed to include, in
the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family
and the family mansion.

I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat

124 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

childish experiment — that of looking down within the
tarn — had <})een to deepen the first singular impression.
There can be no doubt that the consciousness of the
rapid increase of my superstition — for why should I not
so term it? — served mainly to accelerate the increase
itself. Such I have long known, is the paradoxical law
of all sentiments having terror as a basis ; and it might
have been for this reason only that, when I again up
lifted my eyes to the house itself from its image in the
pool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy — a fancy
so ridiculous indeed that I but mention it to show the
vivid force of the sensations which oppressed me. I
had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe
that about the whole mansion and domain there hung
an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their imme
diate vicinity — an atmosphere which had no affinity
with the air of heaven, but which had reeked up from
the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn
— a pestilent and mystic vapor, dull, sluggish, faintly
discernible, and leaden hued.

Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a
dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the
building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of
an excessive antiquity. The discoloration of ages had
been great. Minute fungi overspread the whole ex
terior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the
eaves. Yet all this was apart from any extraordinary
dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen,
and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between
its still perfect adaptation of parts and the crumbling
condition of the individual stones. In this there was
much that reminded me of the spacious totality of old
woodwork which has rotted for long years in some
neglected vault with no disturbance from the breath

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 125

of the external air. Beyond this indication of exten
sive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of
instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer
might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which,
extending from the roof of the building in front, made
its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it
became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.

Noticing these things, I rode over a short causewray
to the house. A servant in waiting took my horse, and
I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of
x stealthy step, thence conducted me in my silence through
many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the
studio of his master. Much that I encountered on
the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the
vague sentiments of which I have already spoken.
While the objects around me — while the carvings of the
ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon
blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial
trophies which rattled as I strode, were but matters to
which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed
from my infancy — while I hesitated not to acknowledge
how familiar was all this — I still wondered to find how
unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were
stirring up. On one of the staircases I met the physi
cian of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a
mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He
accosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet
now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence
of his master.

The room in which I found myself was very large
and lofty. The windows wrere long, narrow, and pointed,
and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor
as to be altogether inaccessible from within. Feeble
gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through

126 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

the trellissed panes, and served to render sufficiently
distinct the more prominent objects around ; the eye,
however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles
of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted
ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The
general furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and
tattered. Many books and musical instruments lay
scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the
scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.
An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung
over and pervaded all.

Upon my entrance, Usher arose from a sofa on
which he had been lying at full length, and greeted me
with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at
first thought, of an overdone cordiality — of the con
strained effort of the ennuye man of the world. A
glance, however, at his countenance convinced me of
his perfect sincerity. We sat down ; and for some
moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with
a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely, man had
never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as
had Roderick Usher! It was with difficulty that I
could bring myself to admit the identity of the wan
being before me with the companion of my early boy
hood. Yet the character of his face had been at all
times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion ;
an eye large, Hquid^and luminous, beyond comparison ;
lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of a surpass
ingly beautiful curve ; a nose of a delicate Hebrew
model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar
formations ; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its
want of prominence, of a, want of moral ppergy ; hair
of a more than web-like softness and tenuity ; these
features, with an inordinate expansion above the

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 127

regions of the temple, made up altogether a counte
nance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the
mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these
features, and of the expression they were wont to con
vey, lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I
spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin, and the
now miraculous lu^tre^of the eye, above all things
startled and even awed me] T7ie~silken hair, too, had
been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild
gossamer texture, it floated rather than fell about the
face, I could not, even with effort, connect its Arabesque
expression with any idea of simple humanity.

In the manner of my friend I was at once struck
with an incoherence — an inconsistency ; and I soon
found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile
struggles to overcome an habitual trepidancy — ^an_ex-
ccssive nervous agitation. For something of this nature
I had Indeed Beenpre pared, no less by his letter than
by reminiscences of certain boyish traits, and by con
clusions deduced from his peculiar physical conforma
tion and temperament. His action was alternately
vivacious and sullen. His voice varied rapidly from
a tremulous indecision (when the mumaj_^rjirits_ seemed
utterly in abeyance) to that species of energetic con
cision — that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-
sounding enunciation — that leaden, self-balanced and
perfectly modulated guttural utterance which may be
observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable
eater of opium, during the periods of his most intense
excitement.

It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit,
of his earnest desire to see me, and of the solace he
expected me to afford him. He entered at some length
into what he conceived to be the nature of his malady.

128 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, and
one for which he despaired to find a remedy — a mere
nervousaffection, he immediately added, which would
undoubteHTy^soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host
of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed
them, interested and bewildered me ; although perhaps
the terms and the general manner of the narration had
their weight. He suffered much from a morbid acute-
uess_ of the senses ; the most insipid food was alone
endurable ; he could wear only garments of certain
texture ; the odors of all flowers were oppressive ;
his eyes were tortured by even a faint light ; and
there were but peculiar sounds, and these from
stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with
horror.

To an anomalous species of terror I found him
a bounden slave. " I shall perish," said he, " I must
perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not
otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the events of the
future, not in themselves, but in their results. I
shudder at the thought of any, even the most trivial
incident, which may operate upon this intolerable
agitation of soul. I have indeed no abhorrence of
danger, except in its absolute effect — in terror. In this
unnerved — in this pitiable condition — I feel that the
period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon
life and reason together in some struggle with the grim
phantasm, FEAR."

I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken
and equivocal hints, another singular feature of his
mental condition. He was enchained by certain
superstitious impressions in regard to the dwelling
which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he
had never ventured forth — in regard to an influence

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 129

whose supposititious force was conveyed in terms too
shadowy here to be re-stated — an influence which some
peculiarities in the mere form and substance of his
family mansion, had, by dint of long sufferance, he
said, obtained over his jspirit- — an effect which the
physique of the gray walls and turrets, and of the dim
tarn into which they all looked down, had at length
brought about upon the rparale of his existence.

He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that
much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him
could be traced to a more natural and far more palp
able origin — to the severe and long-continued illness —
indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution — of a
tenderly beloved sister — his sole companion for long
years — his last and only relative on earth. " Her de
cease," he said, with a bitterness which I can never for
get, "would leave him (him the hopeless and the frail)
the last of the ancient race of the Ushers." While he
spoke, the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed
slowly through a remote portion of the apartment, and,
without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I
regarded her with an utter astonishment not unmingled
with dread — and yet I found it impossible to account
for such feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me
as my eyes followed her retreating steps. When a door
at length closed upon her, my glance sought instinc
tively and eagerly the countenance of the brother —
but he had buried his face in his hands, and I could
only perceive that a far more than ordinary wanness
had overspread the emaciated fingers through which
trickled many passionate tears.

The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled
the skill of her physicians. A settled apathy, a gradual
wasting away of the person, and frequent although

Vol. I.-9.

130 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

transient affections of a partially cataleptical character,
were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she hacTsteadily
borne up against the pressure of her malady, and had
not betaken herself finally to bed ; but, on the closing
in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she
succumbed (as her brother told me at night with
inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of
the destroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I had
obtained of her person would thus probably be the last
I should obtain — that the lady, at least while living,
would be seen by me no more.

For several days ensuing her name was unmentioned
by either Usher or myself; and during this period I
was busied in earnest endeavors to alleviate the
melancholy of my friend. We painted and read to
gether, or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild im
provisations of his speaking guitar. And thus, as a
closer and still closer intimacy admitted me more
unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, the more
bitterly did I perceive the futility of all attempts at
cheering a mind from which darkness^ as if an inherent
positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of the
moral and physical universe in one unceasing radiation
of gloom.

I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many
solemn hours I thus spent alone writh the master of
the House of Usher. Yet I should fail in any attempt
to convey an idea of the exact character of the studies,
or of the occupations in which he involved me or led
me the way. An excited and highly distempered ideality
threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long impro
vised dirges will ring for ever in my ears. Among
other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain singu
lar perversion and amplification of the wild air of the

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 131

last waltz of Yon AVeber. From the paintings over
which his elaborate fancy brooded, and which grew,
touch by touch, into vaguenesses at which I shuddered
the more thrillingly, because I shuddered knowing not
why ; — from these paintings (vivid as their images
now are before me) I would in vain endeavor to
educe more than a small portion which should lie
within the compass of merely written words. By the
utter simplicity, by the nakedness of his designs, he
arrested and overawed attention. If ever mortal
painted an idea that mortal was Roderick Usher.
For me at least — in the circumstances then surrounding
me — there arose out of the pure abstractions which
the hypochondriac contrived to throw upon his canvas
an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which felt
I ever yet in the contemplation of the certainly glowing
yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.

One of the phantasmagoric conceptions c*f_my friend,
partaking not so rigidly of the sjririt of fl.hatrn.rt.jnnj
may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words.
A small picture presented the iiiteriorof an immensely
long and rectangular^ault or tuimel,>vith low walls,
smooth, white, and without — interruption or device.
Certain accessory points of the design served well to
convey the idea that this excavation lay at an exceed
ing depth below the surface of the earth. No outlet
wras observed in any portion of its vast extent, and no
torch or other artificial source of light was discernible,
yet a flood of intense rays rolled throughout, and
bathed the whole in a ghastly and inappropriate
splendor.

I have just spoken of that morbid conditioji_qf the
auditory nerve which rpnnWftd- .all -miiaip .A\\\ nlpr^bK/ f '*-
the sufferer, with the exception of certam-eflfecfs of

332 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

stringed instruments. It was perhaps the narrow limits
to which he thus confined himself upon the guitar which
gave birth, in great measure, to the fantastic character
of his performances. But the fervid facility of his
impromptus could not be so accounted for. They must
have been and were, in the notes, as well as in the words
of his wild fantasias (for he not unfrequently accom
panied himself with rhymed-verbal improvisations) the
result of that intense mental collectedness and concen
tration to which I have previously alluded as observable
only in_^rticular_jn^me^Us_of^the_^highest Artificial
excitement. The words of one of these rhapsodies I
have easily remembered. I was perhaps the more forci
bly impressed with it as he gave it, because, in the
under or mystic current of its meaning, I fancied that, I
perceived, and for the first time, a full consciousness on
the part of Usher, of the tottering o£Jiis.-4efty-jce_ason
upon her throne. The verses, which were entitled " The
Hauntecl Palace," ran very nearly, if not accurately;
thus :

In the greenest of our valleys,

By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace —

Radiant palace — reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion —

It stood there !
Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair.

II.
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow ;
(This — all this — was in the olden

Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odor went away.

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 133

III.

Wanderers in that happy valley

Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically

To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting

(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,

The wit and wisdom of their king.

V.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

Assailed the monarch's high estate ;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow

Shall dawn upon him, desolate !)
And, round about his home, the glory

That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story

Of the old time entombed.

And travelers now within that valley,

Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically

To a discordant melody ;
While, like a rapid ghastly river

Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out for ever,

And laugh — but smile no more.

I well remember that suggestions arising from this
ballad led us into a train of thought wherein there
became manifest an opinion of Usher, which I mention
not so much on account of its novelty (for other men*
have thought thus), as on account of the pertinacity

* Watson, Dr. Percival, Spallanzani, and especially the Bishop of Llan-
daff.— See " Chemical Essays," vol. v.

134 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

with which he maintained it. This opinion, in its
general form, was that of the sentience of all vegetable
things. But, in his disordered fancy ,_the idea had
assumed a more daring character, and trespassed, under
certain conditions, upoTr~the kingdom of inorganiza-
tion. I J^kv^p£ds_to_exj3ress the full extent, or the
earnest aban^onTof his persuasion. The belief, how
ever, was connecTed (as I have previously hinted) with
the gray stones of the home of his forefathers. The
conditions of th^sentience>had been here, he imagined,
fulfilled in the meihocfof collocation of these stones —
in the order of their arrangement, as well as in that
of the many fungi which overspread them, and of the
decayed trees which stood around — above all, in the
long undisturbed endurance of this arrangement, and
in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its
evidence — the evidence of the sentience* — was to be
seen, he said (and I here started as he spoke), in the
gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere of
their own about the waters and the walls. The result
was discoverable, he added, in that silent yet importu
nate and terrible influence, which for centuries had
moulded the destinies of his family, and which made
him what I now saw him — what he was. Such opinions
need no comment, and I will make none.

Our books — the books which for years had formed
no small portion of the mental existence of the invalid
—were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with
this character of phantasm. We pored together over
such wrorks as the Ververt et Chartreuse of Gresset ;
the Belphegor of Machiavelli ; the Heaven and Hell
of Swedenborg ; the Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas
Klimm, by Holberg ; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud,
of Jean D'Indagine, and of De la Chambre ; the

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 135

Journey into the Blue Distance of Tieck ; and the
City of the Sun of Campanella. One favorite volume
was a small octavo edition of the Diredorium Inqiiisi-
torium, by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne ; and
there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old
African Satyrs and GEgipans, over which Usher would
sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however,
was found in the perusal of an exceedingly rare and
curious book in quarto Gothic — the manual of a for
gotten church — the Vigiliae Mortuorum secundum Cho
rum Ecclesiae Magurikinae.

I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this
work, and of its probable influence upon the hypochon-
driac, when, one evening having informed me abruptly
that the lady Madeline was no more, he stated his
intention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight (pre
viously to its final interment), in one of the numerous
vaults within the main walls of the building. The
worldly reason, however, assigned for this singular pro
ceeding was one which I did not feel at liberty to dis
pute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so
he told me) by consideration of the unusual character
of the malady of the deceased, of certain obtrusive and
eager inquiries on the part of her medical man, and of
the remote and exposed situation of the burial-ground
of the family. I will not deny that when I called to
mind the sinister countenance of the person whom I
met upon the staircase on the day of my arrival at the
house, I had no desire to oppose what I regarded as at
best but a harmless and by no means an unnatural
precaution.

At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in
the arrangements for the temporary entombment. The
body having been encoffined, we two alone bore it to

136 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

its rest. The vault in which we placed it (and which
had been so long unopened that our torches, half
smothered in its oppressive atmosphere, gave us little
opportunity for investigation) was small, damp, and
entirely without means of admission for light, lying at
great depth immediately beneath that portion of the
building in which was my own sleeping apartment.
It had been used apparently in remote feudal times
for the worst purposes of a donjon-keep, and in later
days as a place of deposit for powder or some other
highly combustible substance, as a portion of its floor,
and the whole interior of a long archway through
which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with
copper. The door, of massive iron, had been also
similarly protected. Its immense weight caused an
unusually sharp grating sound as it moved upon its
hinges.

Having deposited our mournful burden upon trestles
within this region of horror, we partially turned aside
the yet unscrewed lid of the coffin and looked upon
the face of the tenant. A striking similitude between
the brother and sister now first arrested my attention,
and Usher, divining perhaps my thoughts, murmured
out some few words from which I learned that the
deceased and himself had been twins, and that sym
pathies of a scarcely intelligible nature had always
existed between them. Our glances, however, rested
not long upon the dead — for we could not regard her
unawed. The disease which had thus entombed the
lady in the maturity of youth had left, as usual in all
maladies of a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery
of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and that
suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so
terrible in death. We replaced and screwed down the

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 137

lid, and having secured the door of iron, made our
way with toil into the scarcely less gloomy apartments
of the upper portion of the house.

And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed,
an observable change came over the features of the
mental disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner
had vanished. His ordinary occupations were neglected
or forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber
with hurried, unequal, and objectless step. The pallor
of his countenance had assumed if possible a more
ghastly hue — but the luminousness of his eye had
utterly gone out. The once occasional huskiness of
his tone was heard no more, and a tremulous quaver,
as if of extreme terror, habitually characterized his
utterance. There were times, indeed, when I thought
his unceasingly agitated mind was laboring with some

^oppressive secret, to divulge which he struggled for the
neicessaFy courage. At times again I was, obliged_lo_

_re.snLve all into the mere jbt^j)licaj^ v^
ness^ for I beheld him gazing upon vacancy for long
hours in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if
listening to some imaginary sound. It was no wonder
that his condition terrified — that it infected me. I
felt creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the
wild influences of his own fantastic yet impressive super
stitions.

It was especially upon retiring to bed late at night
of the seventh or eighth day after the placing of the
lady Madeline within the donjon that I experienced
the full power of such feelings. Sleep came not near
my couch — while the hours waned and waned away.
I struggled to reason off the nervousness which had
dominion over me. I endeavored to believe that much
if not all of what I felt was due to the bewildering

138 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF UHSER.

influence of the gloomy furniture of the room — of
the dark and tattered draperies which, tortured into
motion by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fit
fully to and fro upon the walls, and rustled uneasily
about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts were
fruitless. An irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded
my frame, and at length there sat upon my very heart
an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this
off with a gasp and a struggle I uplifted myself upon
the pillows, and peering earnestly within the intense
darkness of the chamber, hearkened — I know not why,
except that an instinctive spirit prompted me — to cer
tain low and indefinite sounds which came, through
the pauses of the storm, at long intervals, I knew not
whence. Overpowered by an intense sentiment of hor
ror, unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on my
clothes with haste (for I felt that I should sleep no
more during the night), and endeavored to arouse
myself from the pitiable condition into which I had
fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the
apartment.

I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a
light step on an adjoining staircase arrested my atten
tion. I presently recognized it as that of Usher. In an
instant afterward he rapped with a gentle touch at my
door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance
was as usual cadaverously wan — but, moreover, there
was a species of mad hilarity in his eyes — an evidently
restrained hy&en^ in his whole demeanor. His air
appalled me — but anything was preferable to the soli
tude which I had so long endured, and I even welcomed
his presence as a relief.

" And you have not seen it ? " he said abruptly,
after having stared about him for some moments in

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 139

silence — " you have not then seen it ? — but, stay ! you
shall." Thus speaking, and having carefully shaded
his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and
threw it freely open to the storm.

The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted
us from our feet. It was indeed a tempestuous yet
sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its
terror and its beauty. A whirlwind had apparently
collected its force in our vicinity, for there were fre
quent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind,
and the exceeding density of the clouds (which hung so
low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not
prevent our perceiving the life-like velocity with which
they flew careering from all points against each other
without passing away into the distance.

I say that even their exceeding density did not pre
vent our perceiving^ this — yet we had no glimpse of
the moon or stars — nor was there any flashing forth of
the lightning. But the under surfaces of the huge
masses of agitated vapor, as well as all terrestrial
objects immediately around us, were glowing in the
unnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctly
visible gaseous exhalation which hun^ about and ^en-
sHrouded the mansion.

" You must not — you shall not behold this ! " said I,
shudderingly, to Usher, as I led him with a gentle vio
lence from the window to a seat. " These appearances
which bewilder you are merely electrical phenomena not
uncommon, or it may be that they have their ghastly
origin in the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this
casement ; the air is chilling and dangerous to your
frame. Here is one of your favorite romances. I will
read, and you shall listen ; and so we will pass away this
terrible night together."

140 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

The antique volume which I had taken up was the
" Mad Trist " of Sir Launcelot Canning, but I had
called it a favorite of Usher's more in sad jest than in
earnest ; for, in truth, there is little in its uncouth and
unimaginative prolixity which could have had interest
for the lofty and spiritual ideality of my friend. It
was, however, the only book immediately at hand, and
I indulged a vague hope that the excitement which
now agitated the hypochondriac might find relief (for
the history of mental disorder is full of similar anoma-
lies) even inthe extremeness of the folly which I
should read! Could I have judged, indeed, by the wild
overstrained air of vivacity with which he hearkened,
or apparently hearkened, to the words of the tale, I
might well have congratulated myself upon the success
of my design.

I had arrived at that well-known portion of the
story where Ethelred, the hero of the Trist, having sought
in vain for peaceable admission into the dwelling of the
hermit, proceeds to make good an entrance by force.
Here, it will be remembered, the words of the narrative
run thus :

" And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty
heart, and who was now mighty withal, on account of the
powerfulness of the wine which he had drunken, waited
no longer to hold parley with the hermit, who in sooth
was of an obstinate and maliceful turn, but feeling the
rain upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the
tempest, uplifted his mace outright, and with blows
made quickly room in the plankings of the door for his
gauntleted hand : and now pulling therewith sturdily,
he so cracked and ripped, and tore all asunder, that the
noise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarmed and
reverberated throughout the forest."

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 141

At the termination of this sentence I started, and for
a moment paused, for it appeared to me (although I at
once concluded that my excited fancy had deceived me)
that from some very remote portion of the mansion there
came indistinctly to my ears what might have been, in
its exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled
and dull one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping
sound which Sir Launcelot had so particularly described.
It was beyond doubt the coincidence alone which had
arrested my attention ; for amid the rattling of the
sashes of the casements, and the ordinary commingled
noises of the still increasing storm, the sound in itself
had nothing surely which should have interested or dis
turbed me. I continued the story :

" But the good champion Ethelred, now entering
within the door, was soon enraged and amazed to per
ceive no signal of the maliceful hermit ; but in the stead
thereof, a dragon of a scaly and prodigious demeanor,
and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a
palace of gold, with a floor of silver ; and upon the
wall there hung a shield of shining brass with this legend
enwritten —

1 Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin ;
Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win.'

And Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the
head of the dragon, which fell before him, and gave up
his pesty breath, with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and
withal so piercing, that Ethelred had fain to close his
ears with his hands against the dreadful noise of it, the
like whereof was never before heard."

Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feel
ing of wild amazement — for there could be no doubt
whatever that in this instance I did actually hear
(although from what direction it proceeded I found it

142 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but
harsh, protracted, and most unusual screaming or grat
ing sound — the exact counterpart of what my fancy had
already conjured up for the dragon's unnatural shriek as
described by the romancer.

Oppressed, as I certainly was upon the occurrence of
this second and most extraordinary coincidence, by a
thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder and
extreme terror were predominate, I still retained suffi
cient presence of mind to avoid exciting by any obser
vation the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I
was by no means certain that he had noticed the sounds
in question, although, assuredly, a strange alteration
had during the last few minutes taken place in his
demeanor. From a position fronting my own, he had
gradually brought round his chair, so as to sit with his
face to the door of the chamber ; and thus I could but
partially perceive his features, although I saw that his
lips trembled as if he were murmuring inaudibly. His
head had dropped upon his breast, yet I knew that he
was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the
eye as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion
of his body too was at variance with this idea, — for he
rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant and
uniform sway. Having rapidly taken notice of all this,
I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which thus
proceeded :

" And now, the champion having escaped from the
terrible fury of the dragon, bethinking himself of the
brazen shield, and of the breaking up of the enchant
ment which was upon it, removed the carcass from out
of the way before him, and approached valorously over
the silver pavement of the castle to where the shield
was upon the wall ; which in sooth tarried not for his

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 143

full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver
floor with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound."

No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than
— as if a shield of brass had indeed at the moment
fallen heavily upon the floor of silver — I became aware
of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet
apparently muffled, reverberation. Completely un
nerved, I leaped to my feet, but the measured rocking
movement of Usher was undisturbed. I rushed to the
chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly
before him, and throughout his whole countenance
there reigned a stony rigidity. But, as I placed my
hand upon his shoulder, there came a strong shudder
over his whole person ; a sickly smile quivered about
his lips, and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and
gibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence.
Bending closely over him, I at length drank in the
hideous import of his words.

"Not hear it? — yes, I hear it, and hare heard it.
Long — long — long — many minutes, many hours, many
days, have I heard it — yet I dared not — oh, pity me,
miserable wretch that I am ! — I dared not — I dared
not speak! We hare put her living in the tomb!
Said I not that my senses were acute ? I now tell you
that I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow
coffin. I heard them — many, many days ago — yet I
dared not — / dared not speak I And now — to-night —
Ethelred — ha ! ha ! — the breaking of the hermit's door,
and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of
the shield ! — say, rather, the rending of her coffin, and
the grating of the iron hinges of her prison, and her
struggles within the coppered archway of the vault.
Oh whither shall I fly ? Will she not be here anon ?
Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste ?

144 THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.

Have I not heard her footstep on the stair ? Do I
not distinguish that heavy and Jiorrihle— beatiftg of her
heart? Madman ! " Here he sprang furiously to his
feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort
he were giving up his soul — " Madman ! I tell y&u
that she now stands without ike door ! "

As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance
there had been found the potency of a spell — the huge
antique panels to which the speaker pointed, threw
slowly back, upon the instant, their ponderous and
ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust —
but then without those doors there did stand the lofty
and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of Usher.
There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence
of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her
emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trem
bling and reeling to and fro upon the threshold —
then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward
upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and
now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse,
and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated.

From that chamber and from that mansion I fled
aghast. The storm was still abroad in all its wrath
as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly
there shot along the path a wild light, and I turned to
see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued, for
the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me.
The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-
red moon, which now shone vividly through that once
barely discernible fissure, (of which I have before spoken
as extending from the .roof of the building in a zigzag
direction to the base.\ While I gazed, this fissure
rapidly widened ; there came a fierce breath of the
whirlwind ; the entire orb of the satellite burst at

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER. 145

once upon my sight ; my brain reeled as I saw the
mighty walls rushing asunder ; there was a long
tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand
waters, and the deep and dark tarn at my feet closed
sullenly and silently over the fragments of the " House
of Usher."

Vol. I.— 10.

THE. PIT AND THE PENDULUM

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

Impia tortorum, loiigas hie turba furores
Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit.
Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro,
Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque patent.

[Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be erected upon the site
of the Jacobin Club House at Paris.]

I was sick, sick unto death, with that long agony,
and when they at length unbound me, and I was per
mitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me.
The sentence, the dread sentence of death, was the
last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears.
After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed
merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It con
veyed to my soul the idea of revolution, perhaps from
its association in fancy with the burr of a mill-wheel.
This only for a brief period, for presently I heard no
more. Yet, for a while, I saw, but with how terrible
an exaggeration ! I saw the lips of the black-robed
judges. They appeared to me white — whiter than the
sheet upon which I trace these words — and thin even
to grotesqueness ; thin with the intensity of their
expression of firmness, of immovable resolution, of
stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the
decrees of what to me was fate were still issuing from
those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution.
I saw them fashion the syllables of my name, and I
shuddered, because no sound succeeded. I saw, too,
for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and
(147)

148 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which
enwrapped the walls of the apartment ; and then my
vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table.
At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed
white slender angels who would save me ; but then all at
once there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit,
and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill, as if I had
touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel
forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame,
and I saw that from them there would be no help.
And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical
note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in
the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily,
and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation ;
but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel
and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished,
as if magically, from before me ; the tall candles sank
into nothingness ; their flames went out utterly ; the
blackness of darkness supervened ; all sensations ap
peared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the
soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, and night
were the universe.

I had swooned ; but still will not say that all of con
sciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will
not attempt to define, or even to describe ; yet all was
not lost. In the deepest slumber — no ! In delirium
— no ! In a swoon — no ! In death — no ! Even in
the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality
for man. Arousing from the most profound of slum
bers, we break the gossamer web of some dream. Yet
in a second afterwards (so frail may that web have
been) we remember not that we have dreamed. In the
return to life from the swoon there are two stages;
first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual ; secondly,

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 149

that of the sense of physical existence. It seems prob
able that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could
recall the impressions of the first, we should find these
impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond.
And that gulf is — what ? How at least shall we dis
tinguish its shadows from those of the tomb? But if
the impressions of what I have termed the first stage
are not at will recalled, yet, after long interval, do they
not come unbidden, while we marvel whence they
come ? He who has never swooned is not he who finds
strange palaces and wildly familiar faces in coals that
glow; is not he who beholds floating in mid-air the sad
visions that the many may not view ; is not he who
ponders over the perfume of some novel flower ; is not
he whose brain grows bewildered with the meaning of
some musical cadence which has never before arrested
his attention.

Amid frequent and thoughtful endeavors to re
member, amid earnest struggles to regather some token
of the state of seeming nothingness into which my
soul had lapsed, there have been moments when I have
dreamed of success ; there have been brief, very brief
periods when I have conjured up remembrances which
the lucid reason of a later epoch assures me could
have had reference only to that condition of seeming

v O

unconsciousness. These shadows of memory tell indis
tinctly of tall figures that lifted and bore me in silence
down — down — still down — till a hideous dizziness op
pressed me at the mere idea of the interminableness of
the descent. They tell also of a vague horror at my
heart on account of that heart's unnatural stillness.
Then comes a sense of sudden motionlessness through
out all things ; as if those who bore me (a ghastly
train !) had outrun, in their descent, the limits of the

150 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

limitless, and paused from the wearisomeness of their
toil. After this I call to mind flatness and dampness ;
and then all is madness — the madness of a memory
which busies itself among forbidden things.

Very suddenly there came back to my soul motion
and sound — the tumultuous motion of the heart, and
in my ears the sound of its beating. Then a pause in
which all is blank. Then again sound, and motion, and
touch, a tingling sensation pervading my frame. Then
the mere consciousness of existence, without thought —
a condition which lasted long. Then, very suddenly,
thought, and shuddering terror, and earnest endeavor to
comprehend my true state. Then a strong desire to
lapse into insensibility. Then a rushing revival of soul
and a successful effort to move. And now a full
memory of the trial, of the judges, of the sable dra
peries, of the sentence, of the sickness, of the swoon.
Then entire forgetfulness of all that followed ; of all
that a later day and much earnestness of endeavor have
enabled me vaguely to recall.

So far I had not opened my eyes. I felt that I lay
upon my back unbound. I reached out my hand, and
it fell heavily upon something damp and hard. There
I suffered it to remain for many minutes, while I strove
to imagine where and what I could be. I longed, yet
dared not, to employ my vision. I dreaded the first
glance at objects around me. It wras not that I feared
to look upon things horrible, but that I grew aghast
lest there should be nothing to see. At length, with a
wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes.
My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The black
ness of eternal night encompassed me. I struggled for
breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to op
press and stifle me. The atmosphere was intolerably

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 151

close. I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise
my reason. I brought to mind the inquisitorial pro
ceedings, and attempted from that point to deduce my
real condition. The sentence had passed, and it ap
peared to me that a very long interval of time had since
elapsed. Yet not for a moment did I suppose myself
actually dead. Such a supposition, notwithstanding
what we read in fiction, is altogether inconsistent with
real existence ; — but where and in what state was I ?
The condemned to death, I knew, perished usually at
the autos-da-fe, and one of these had been held on the
very night of the day of my trial. Had I been re
manded to my dungeon, to await the next sacrifice,
which would not take place for many months ? This I
at once saw could not be. Victims had been in imme
diate demand. Moreover my dungeon, as well as all
the condemned cells at Toledo, had stone floors, and light
was not altogether excluded.

A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in
torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period I once
more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I
at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in
every fibre. I thrust my arms wildly above and around
me in all directions. I felt nothing ; yet dreaded to
move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls of a
tomb. Perspiration burst from every pore, and stood in
cold big beads upon my forehead. The agony of sus
pense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved
forward, with my arms extended, and my eyes straining
from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint
ray of light. I proceeded for many paces, but still all
was blackness and vacancy. I breathed more freely.
It seemed evident that mine was not, at least, the most
hideous of fates.

152 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

And now, as I still continued to step cautiously on
ward, there came thronging upon my recollection a
thousand vague rumors of the horrors of Toledo. Of
the dungeons there had been strange things narrated —
fables I had always deemed them — but yet strange, and
too ghastly to repeat, save in a whisper. Was I left to
perish of starvation in this subterranean world of dark
ness ; or what fate perhaps even more fearful awaited
me? That the result would be death, and a death of
more than customary bitterness, I knew too well the
character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the
hour were all that occupied or distracted me.

My outstretched hands at length encountered some
solid obstruction. It was a wall, seemingly of stone
masonry — very smooth, slimy, and cold. I followed
it up ; stepping with all the careful distrust with which
certain antique narratives had inspired me. This pro
cess, however, afforded me no means of ascertaining the
dimensions of my dungeon ; as I might make its circuit,
and return to the point whence I set out, without being
aware of the fact, so perfectly uniform seemed the wall.
I therefore sought the knife which had been in my
pocket when led into the inquisitorial chamber, but it
was gone ; my clothes had been exchanged for a wrapper
of coarse serge. I had thought of forcing the blade
in some minute crevice of the masonry, so as to
identify my point of departure. The difficulty, never
theless, was but trivial, although, in the disorder of my
fancy, it seemed at first insuperable. I tore a part of
the hem from the robe, and placed the fragment at
full length, and at right angles to the wall. In
groping my way around the prison, I could not fail
to encounter this rag upon completing the circuit. So,
at least, I thought, but I had not counted upon the

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 153

extent of the dungeon or upon my own weakness. The
ground was moist and slippery. I staggered onward for
some time, when I stumbled and fell. My excessive
fatigue induced me to remain prostrate, and sleep soon
overtook me as I lay.

Upon awaking, and stretching forth an arm, I
found beside me a loaf and a pitcher with water. I
was too much exhausted to reflect upon this circum
stance, but ate and drank with avidity. Shortly after
wards I resumed my tour around the prison, and with
much toil came at last upon the fragment of the serge.
Up to the period when I fell I had counted fifty-two
paces, and upon resuming my walk I had counted
forty-eight more, when I arrived at the rag. There
were in all, then, a hundred paces ; and, admitting two
paces to the yard, I presumed the dungeon to be fifty
yards in circuit. I had met, however, with many angles
in the wall, and thus I could form 110 guess at the shape
of the vault, for vault I could not help supposing it
to be.

I had little object — certainly no hope — in these re
searches, but a vague curiosity prompted me to continue
them. Quitting the wall, I resolved to cross the area
of the enclosure. At first I proceeded with extreme
caution, for the floor, although seemingly of solid
material, was treacherous with slime. At length, how
ever, I took courage and did not hesitate to step firmly
— endeavoring to cross in as direct a line as possible. I
had advanced some ten or twelve paces in this manner,
when the remnant of the torn hem of my robe became
entangled between my legs. I stepped on it, and fell
violently on my face.

In the confusion attending my fall, I did not immedi
ately apprehend a somewhat startling circumstance,

154 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

which yet, in a few seconds afterward, and while I
still lay prostrate, arrested my attention. It was this :
my chin rested upon the floor of the prison, but my
lips, and the upper portion of my head, although seem
ingly at a less elevation than the chin, touched nothing.
At the same time my forehead seemed bathed in a
clammy vapor, and the peculiar smell of decayed
fungus arose to my nostrils. I put forward my arm,
and shuddered to find that I had fallen at the very
brink of a circular pit, whose extent of course I had
no means of ascertaining at the moment. Groping
about the masonry just below the margin, I succeeded
in dislodging a small fragment, and let it fall into the
abyss. For many seconds I hearkened to its reverbera
tions as it dashed against the sides of the chasm in its
descent ; at length there was a sullen plunge into water,
succeeded by loud echoes. At the same moment there
came a sound resembling the quick opening, and as
rapid closing of a door overhead, while a faint gleam of
light flashed suddenly through the gloom, and as sud
denly faded away.

I saw clearly the doom which had been prepared for
me, and congratulated myself upon the timely accident
by which I had escaped. Another step before my fall,
and the world had seen me no more ; and the death just
avoided was of that very character which I had regarded
as fabulous and frivolous in the tales respecting the In
quisition. To the victims of its tyranny, there was the
choice of death with its direst physical agonies, or death
with its most hideous moral horrors. 1 had been ^e-
served for the latter. Bylong""3uffering my nerves had
been unstrung, until I trembled at the sound of my own
voice, and had become in every respect a fitting subject
for the species of torture which awaited me. ?

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 155

Shaking in every limb, I groped my way back to the
wall — resolving there to perish rather than risk the
terrors of the wells, of which my imagination now
pictured many in various positions about the dungeon.
In other conditions of mind I might have had courage
to end my misery at once by a plunge into one of these
abysses ; but now I was the veriest of cowards. Neither
could I forget what I had read of these pits — that the
sudden extinction of life formed no part of their most
horrible plan.

Agitation of spirit kept me awake for many long hours ;
but at length I again slumbered. Upon arousing, I
found by my side, as before, a loaf and a pitcher of
water. A burning thirst consumed me, and I emptied
the vessel at a draught. It must have been drugged, for
scarcely had I drank before I became irresistibly drowsy.
A deep sleep fell upon me — a sleep like that of death.
How long it lasted of course I know not ; but when once
again I unclosed my eyes the objects around me were
visible. By a wild sulphurous lustre, the origin of which
I could not at first determine, I was enabled to see the
extent and aspect of the prison.

In its size I had been greatly mistaken. The whole
circuit of its wall did not exceed twenty-five yards.
For some minutes this fact occasioned me a world of
vain trouble ; vain indeed — for what could be of less
importance, under the terrible circumstances which en
vironed me, than the mere dimensions of my dungeon ?
But my soul took a wild interest in trifles, and I busied
myself in endeavors to account for the error I had
committed in my measurement. The truth at length
flashed upon me. In my first attempt at exploration I
had counted fifty-two paces up to the period when I
fell ; I must then have been within a pace or two of the

156 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

fragment of serge ; in fact I had nearly performed the
circuit of the vault. I then slept, and upon awaking,
I must have returned upon my steps, thus supposing
the circuit nearly double what it actually was. My
confusion of mind prevented me from observing that I
began my tour with the wall to the left, and ended it
with the wrall to the right.

I had been deceived too in respect to the shape of
the enclosure. In feeling my way I had found many
angles, and thus deduced an idea of great irregularity,
so potent is the effect of total darkness upon one arous
ing from lethargy or sleep ! The angles were simply
those of a few slight depressions or niches at odd inter
vals. The general shape of the prison wras square.
What I had taken for masonry seemed now to be iron,
or some other metal, in huge plates, whose sutures or
joints occasioned the depression. The entire surface
of this metallic enclosure was rudely daubed in all the
hideous and repulsive devices to which the charnel
superstition of the monks has given rise. The figures
of fiends in aspects of menace, with skeleton forms and
other more really fearful images, overspread and dis
figured the Avails. I observed that the outlines of these
monstrosities were sufficiently distinct, but that the
colors seemed faded and blurred, as if from the effects
of a damp atmosphere. I now noticed the floor, too,
which was of stone. In the centre yawned the circular
pit from whose jaws I had escaped ; but it was the only
one in the dungeon.

All this I saw indistinctly and by much effort, for
my personal condition had been greatly changed during
slumber. I now lay upon my back, and at full length,
on a species of low framework of wood. To this I was
securely bound by a long strap resembling a surcingle.

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 157

It passed in many convolutions about my limbs and
body, leaving at liberty only my head, and my left arm
to such an extent that I could by dint of much exer
tion supply myself with food from an earthen dish
which lay by my side on the floor. I saw to my horror
that the pitcher had been removed. I say to my horror,
for I was consumed with intolerable thirst. This thirst it
appeared to be the design of my persecutors to stimulate,
for the food in the dish was meat pungently seasoned.

Looking upward, I surveyed the ceiling of my prison.
It was some thirty or forty feet overhead, and con
structed much as the side walls. In one of its panels a
very singular figure riveted my whole attention. It
was the painted figure of Time as he is commonly
represented, save that in lieu of the scythe he held what
at a casual glance I supposed to be the pictured image
of a huge pendulum, such as we see on antique clocks.
There was something, however, in the appearance of
this machine which caused me to regard it more atten
tively. While I gazed directly upward at it (for its
position was immediately over my own), I fancied that
I saw it in motion. In an instant afterward the fancy
was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of course slow.
I watched it for some minutes somewhat in fear but
more in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its
dull movement, I turned my eyes upon the other objects
in the cell.

A slight noise attracted my notice, and looking to
the floor, I saw several enormous rats traversing it.
They had issued from the well which lay just within
view to my right. Even then while I gazed they came
up in troops, hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by
the scent of the meat. From this it required much
effort and attention to scare them away.

158 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

It might have been half an hour, perhaps even an
hour (for I could take but imperfect note of time), before
I again cast my eyes upward. What I then saw con
founded and amazed me. The sweep of the pendulum
had increased in extent by nearly a yard. As a natu
ral consequence, its velocity was also much greater.
But what mainly disturbed me was the idea that it had
perceptively descended. I now observed, with what
horror it is needless to say, that its nether extremity
was formed of a crescent of glittering steel, about a foot
in length from horn to horn ; the horns upward, and the
under edge evidently as keen as that of a razor. Like
a razor also it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from
the edge into a solid and broad structure above. It was
appended to a weighty rod of brass, and the whole
hissed as it swung through the air.

I could no longer doubt the doom prepared for me
by monkish ingenuity in torture. My cognizance of
the pit had become known to the inquisitorial agents —
the pit, whose horrors had been destined for so bold a
recusant as myself, the pit, typical of hell, and regarded
by rumor as the Ultima Thule of all their punish
ments. The plunge into this pit I had avoided by the
merest accidents, and I knew that surprise or entrap
ment into torment formed an important portion of all
the grotesquerie of these dungeon deaths. Having
failed to fall, it was no part of the demon plan to hurl
me into the abyss, and thus (there being no alternative)
a different and a milder destruction awaited me.
Milder ! I half smiled in my agony as I thought of
such application of such a term.

What boots it to tell of the long, long hours of
horror more than mortal, during which I counted the
rushing oscillations of the steel ! Inch by inch — line

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 159

by line — with a descent only appreciable at intervals
that seemed ages — down and still down it came ! Days
passed— it might have been that many days passed —
ere it swept so closely over me as to fan me with its
acrid breath. The odor of the sharp steel forced itself
into my nostrils. I prayed — I wearied heaven with my
prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically
mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the
sweep of the fearful scimitar. And then I fell suddenly
calm and lay smiling at the glittering death as a child
at some rare bauble.

There was another interval of utter insensibility ;
it was brief, for upon again lapsing into life there had
been no perceptible descent in the pendulum. But it
might have been long — for I knew there were demons
who took note of my swoon, and who could have
arrested the vibration at pleasure. Upon my recovery,
too, I felt very — oh ! inexpressibly — sick and weak, as
if through long inanition. Even amid the agonies of
that period the human nature craved food. With pain
ful effort I outstretched my left arm as far as my bonds
permitted, and took possession of the small remnant
wrhich had been spared me by the rats. As I put a
portion of it within my lips there rushed to my mind a
half-formed thought of joy — of hope. Yet what busi
ness had / with hope ? It was, as I say, a half-formed
thought — man has many such, which are never com
pleted. I felt that it was of joy — of hope ; but I felt
also that it had perished in its formation. In vain I
struggled to perfect — to regain it. Long suffering had
nearly annihilated all my. ordinary powers of mind. I
was an imbecile — an idiot.

The vibration of the pendulum was at right angles
to my length. I saw that the crescent was designed

160 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

to cross the region of the heart. It would fray the serge
of my robe ; it would return and repeat its operations
— again — and again. Notwithstanding its terrifically
wide sweep (some thirty feet or more) and the hissing
vigor of its descent, sufficient to sunder these very walls
of iron, still the fraying of my robe would be all that,
for several minutes, it would accomplish ; and at this
thought I paused. I dared not go farther than this
reflection. I dwelt upon it with a pertinacity of atten
tion — as if, in so dwelling, I could arrest here the de
scent of the steel. I forced myself to ponder upon the
sound of the crescent as it should pass across the garment
upon the peculiar thrilling sensation which the friction
of cloth produces on the nerves. I pondered upon all
this frivolity until my teeth were on edge.

Down — steadily down it crept. I took a frenzied
pleasure in contrasting its downward with its lateral
velocity. To the right — to the left — far and wide — with
the shriek of a damned spirit ! to my heart with the
stealthy pace of the tiger ! I alternately laughed and
howled, as the one or the other idea grew predom
inant.

Down — certainly, relentlessly down ! It vibrated
within three inches of my bosom ! I struggled violently
— furiously — to free my left arm. This was free only
from the elbow to the hand. I could reach the latter,
from the platter beside me to my mouth with great
effort, but no farther. Could I have broken the fasten
ings above the elbow, I would have seized and attempted
to arrest the pendulum. I might as well have attempted
to arrest an avalanche !

Down — still unceasingly — still inevitably down ! I
gasped and struggled at each vibration. I shrunk
convulsively at its every sweep. My eyes followed its

THE PIT AND THE FEND UL UM. 1 61

outward or upward whirls with the eagerness of the
most unmeaning despair ; they closed themselves spas
modically at the descent, although death would have
been a relief, oh, how unspeakable ! Still I quivered
in every nerve to think how slight a sinking of the
machinery would precipitate that keen glistening axe
upon my bosom. It was hope that prompted the
nerve to quiver — the frame to shrink. It was hope —
the hope that triumphs on the rack — that whispers to
the death-condemned even in the dungeons of the
Inquisition.

I saw that some ten or twelve vibrations would bring
the steel in actual contact with my robe, and with this
observation there suddenly came over my spirit all the
keen, collected calmness of despair. For the first time
during many hours, or perhaps days, I thought. It now
occurred to me that the bandage or surcingle which
enveloped me was unique. I was tied by no separate
cord. The first stroke of the razor-like crescent athwart
any portion of the band would so detach it that it might
be unwound from my person by means of my left
hand. But how fearful, in that case, the proximity of
the steel ! The result of the slightest struggle, how
deadly ! Was it likely, moreover, that the minions
of the torturer had not foreseen and provided for this
possibility ? AY as it probable that the bandage crossed
my bosom in the track of the pendulum? Dreading
to find my faint, and, as it seemed, my last hope frus
trated, I so far elevated my head as to obtain a distinct
view of my breast. The surcingle enveloped my limbs
and body close in all directions save in the path of the
destroying crescent.

Scarcely had I dropped my head back into its origi
nal position when there flashed upon my mind what I
Vol. I.— 11.

162 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

cannot better describe than as the unformed half of
that idea of deliverance to which I have previously
alluded, and of which a moiety only floated indeter
minately through my brain when I raised food to my
burning lips. The whole thought was now present —
feeble, scarcely sane, scarcely definite, but still entire.
I proceeded at once, with the nervous energy of despair,
to attempt its execution.

For many hours the immediate vicinity of the low
framework upon which I lay had been literally swarm
ing with rats. They were wild, bold, ravenous, their
red eyes glaring upon me as if they waited but for
motionlessness on my part to make me their prey. " To
what food," I thought, " have they been accustomed in
the well ? "

They had devoured, in spite of all my efforts to pre
vent them, all but a small remnant of the contents of
the dish. I had fallen into an habitual see-saw or
wave of the hand about the platter ; and at length the
unconscious uniformity of the movement deprived it of
effect. In their voracity the vermin frequently fastened
their sharp fangs in my fingers. With the particles
of the oily and spicy viand which now remained, I
thoroughly rubbed the bandage wherever I could reach
it ; then raising my hand from the floor, I lay breath
lessly still.

At first the ravenous animals were startled and terri
fied at the change — at the cessation of movement.
They shrank alarmedly back ; many sought the well.
But this was only for a moment. I had not counted
in vain upon their voracity. Observing that I re
mained without motion, one or two of the boldest
leaped upon the framework and smelt at the surcingle.
This seemed the signal for a general rush. Forth

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 163

from the well they hurried in fresh troops. They clung
to the wood, they overran it, and leaped in hundreds
upon my person. The measured movement of the
pendulum disturbed them not at all. Avoiding its
strokes, they busied themselves with the anointed ban
dage. They pressed, they swarmed upon me in ever
accumulating heaps. They writhed upon my throat ;
their cold lips sought my own ; I was half stifled by
their thronging pressure ; disgust, for which the world
has no name, swelled my bosom, and chilled with heavy
clamminess my heart. Yet one minute and I felt that
the struggle would be over. Plainly I perceived the
loosening of the bandage. I knew that in more than
one place it must be already severed. "With a more
than human resolution I lay still.

Nor had I erred in my calculations, nor had I en
dured in vain. I at length felt that I was free. The
surcingle hung in ribbons from my body. But the
stroke of the pendulum already pressed upon my
bosom. It had divided the serge of the robe. It had
cut through the linen beneath. Twice again it swung,
and a sharp sense of pain shot through every nerve.
But the moment of escape had arrived. At a wave of
my hand my deliverers hurried tumultuously away.
With a steady movement, cautious, sidelong, shrinking,
and slow, I slid from the embrace of the bandage and
beyond the reach of the scimitar. For the moment, at
least, I was free.

Free ! — and in the grasp of the Inquisition ! I had
scarcely stepped from my wooden bed of horror upon
the stone floor of the prison, when the motion of the
hellish machine ceased, and I beheld it drawn up by
some invisible force through the ceiling. This was a
lesson which I took desperately to heart. My every

164 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

motion was undoubtedly watched. Free ! — I had but
escaped death in one form of agony to be delivered
unto worse than death in some other. With that
thought I rolled my eyes nervously around on the
barriers of iron that hemmed me in. Something un
usual — some change which at first I could not appre
ciate distinctly — it was obvious had taken place in the
apartment. For many minutes of a dreamy and
trembling abstraction I busied myself in vain, uncon
nected conjecture. During this period I became aware,
for the first time, of the origin of the sulphurous light
which illumined the cell. It proceeded from a fissure
about half-an-inch in width, extending entirely around
the prison at the base of the walls which thus appeared,
and were completely separated from the floor. I en
deavored, but of course in vain, to look through the
aperture.

As I arose from the attempt the mystery of the
alteration in the chamber broke at once upon my
understanding. I have observed that although the
outlines of the figures upon the walls were sufficiently
distinct, yet the colors seemed blurred and indefinite.
These colors had now assumed, and were momentarily
assuming, a startling and most intense brilliancy, that
gave to the spectral and fiendish portraitures an aspect
that might have thrilled even firmer nerves than my
own. Demon eyes, of a wild and ghastly vivacity,
glared upon me in a thousand directions where none had
been visible before, and gleamed with the lurid lustre
of a fire that I could not force my imagination to regard
as unreal.

Unreal! — Even while I breathed there came to my
nostrils the breath of the vapor of heated iron ! A
suffocating odor pervaded the prison ! A deeper glow

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. 165

settled each moment in the eyes that glared at my
agonies ! A richer tint of crimson diffused itself over
the pictured horrors of blood. I panted ! I gasped for
breath ! There could be no doubt of the design of my
tormentors — oh, most unrelenting ! — oh, most demoniac
of men ! I shrank from the glowing metal to the centre
of the cell. Amid the thought of the fiery destruction
that impended, the idea of the coolness of the well came
over my soul like balm. I rushed to its deadly brink.
I threw my straining vision below. The glare from the
enkindled roof illumined its inmost recesses. Yet, for a
wild moment, did my spirit refuse to comprehend the
meaning of what I saw. At length it forced — it wrestled
its way into my soul — it burned itself in upon my
shuddering reason. Oh for a voice to speak ! — oh,
horror ! — oh, any horror but this ! With a shriek I
rushed from the margin and buried my face in my
hands — weeping bitterly.

The heat rapidly increased, and once again I looked
up, shuddering as with a fit of the ague. There had
been a second change in the cell — and now the change
was obviously in the form. As before, it was in vain
that I at first endeavored to appreciate or understand
what was taking place. But not long was I left in
doubt. The inquisitorial vengeance had been hurried
by my two-fold escape, and there was to be no more
dallying with the King of Terrors. The room had
been square. I saw that two of its iron angles were
now acute — two, consequently, obtuse. The fearful
difference quickly increased with a low rumbling or
moaning sound. In an instant the apartment had
shifted its form into that of a lozenge. But the altera
tion stopped not here — I neither hoped nor desired it
to stop. I could have clasped the red walls to my

166 THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM.

bosom as a garment of eternal peace. " Death," I said,
" any death but that of the pit ! " Fool ! might I not
have known that into the pit it was the object of the
burning iron to urge me ? Could I resist its glow ? or
if even that, could I withstand its pressure ? And now,
flatter and flatter grew the lozenge, with a rapidity
that left me no time for contemplation. Its centre,
and of course, its greatest width, came just over the
yawning gulf. I shrank back — but the closing walls
pressed me resistlessly onward. At length for my
seared and writhing body there was no longer an inch
of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I struggled
no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one
loud, long and final scream of despair. I felt that I
tottered upon the brink — I averted my eyes —

There was a discordant hum of human voices ! There
was a loud blast as of many trumpets ! There was a
harsh grating as of a thousand thunders! The fiery
walls rushed back ! An outstretched arm caught my
own as I fell fainting into the abyss. It was that of
General Lasalle. The French army had entered Toledo.
The Inquisition was in the hands of its enemies.

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

The " Red Death " had long devastated the country.
No pestilence had ever been so fatal or so hideous.
Blood was its Avatar and its seal — the redness and the
horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden
dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with
dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body, and
especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest
ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sym
pathy of his fellow-men ; and the whole seizure, progress,
and termination of the disease, were the incidents of
half-an-hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless
and sagacious. AVhen his dominions were half-depopu
lated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale
and light-hearted friends from among the knights and
dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep
seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was
an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of
the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong
and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of
iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces
and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They
resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to
the sudden impulses of despair from without or of
frenzy from wTithin. The abbey was amply provisioned.
With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance
(167)

168 THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

to contagion. The external world could take care of
itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve or to
think. The prince had provided all the appliances of
pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisa-
tori, there were ballet dancers, there were musicians,
there was beauty, there was wine. All these and secu
rity were within. Without was the " Red Death."

It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month
of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most
furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained
his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most un
usual magnificence.

It was a voluptuous scene that masquerade. But
first let me tell of the rooms in which it was liekl.
There were seven — an imperial suite. In many palaces,
however, such suites form a long and straight vista,
while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls
on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is
scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different,
as might have been expected from the duke's love of
the bizarre. The apartments wrere so irregularly dis
posed that the vision embraced but little more than
one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every
twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect.
To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a
tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a
closed corridor which pursued the windings of the
suite. These windows were of stained glass, whose
color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of
the decorations of the chamber into which it opened.
That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example,
in blue, and vividly blue were its windows. The
second chamber was purple in its ornaments and
tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH. 169

was green throughout, and so were the casements.
The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange, the
fifth with white, the sixth with violet. The seventh
apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapes
tries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls,
falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same
material and hue. But in this chamber only the
color of the windows failed to correspond with the deco
rations. The panes here were scarlet — a deep blood-
color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was
there any lamp or candelabrum amid the profusion
of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or
depended from the roof. There was no light of any
kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite
of chambers ; but in the corridors that followed the
suite there stood opposite to each window a heavy tripod
bearing a brazier of fire that projected its rays through
the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room.
And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and
fantastic appearances. But in the eastern or black
chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon
the dark hangings, through the blood-tinted panes, was
ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look
upon the countenances of those who entered that there
were few of the company bold enough to set foot within
its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment also that there stood against
the western wall a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendu
lum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous
clang ; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of
the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came
from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was
clear and loud, and deep, and exceedingly musical, but
of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse

170 THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were con
strained to pause momentarily in their performance to
hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce
ceased their evolutions, and there was a brief disconcert
of the whole gay company, and while the chimes of
the clock yet rang it was observed that the giddiest
grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their
hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or
meditation ; but when the echoes had fully ceased a
light laughter at once pervaded the assembly ; the
musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their
own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows
each to the other that the next chiming of the clock
should produce in them no similar emotion, and then,
after the lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three
thousand and six hundred seconds of the time that flies),
there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then
were the same disconcert and tremulousness and medi
tation as before.

But in spite of these things it was a gay and magnifi
cent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He
had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded
the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and
fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.
There are some who would have thought him mad.
His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary
to hear, and see, and touch him to be sure that he was
not.

He had directed, in great part, the movable embel
lishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of
this great fete ; and it was his own guiding taste which
had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure
they were grotesque. There were much glare and
glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH. 171

has been since seen in " Hernani." There were ara
besque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments.
There were delirious fancies such as the mad-man
fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much
of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of
the terrible, and not a little of that which might have
excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers
there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And
these — the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue
from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the
orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And,
anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in
the hall of the velvet ; and then, for a moment all is
still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The
dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes
of the chime die away — they have endured but an
instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after
them as they depart. And now again the music swells,
and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more
merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted
windows through which stream the rays from the
tripods. But to the chamber which lies most east-
wardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers
who venture ; for the night is waning away ; and there
flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored pane :
and the blackness of the sable drapery appalls : and to
him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes
from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more
solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears
who indulge in the more remote gayeties of the other
apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded,
and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And
the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there

172 THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock.
And then the music ceased, as I have told ; and the
evolutions of the waltzers were quieted ; and there was
an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now
there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of
the clock ; and thus it happened, perhaps that more of
thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations
of the thoughtful among those who reveled. And
thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last
echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence,
there were many individuals in the crowd who had
found leisure to become aware of the presence of
a masked figure which had arrested the attention
of no single individual before. And the rumor of
this new presence having spread itself whisperingly
around, there arose at length from the whole company
a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and
surprise — then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of
disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted,
it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance
could have excited such sensation. In truth the
masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited ;
but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and
gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite
decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most
reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.
Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death
are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest
can be made. The whole company indeed seemed
now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of
the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The
figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head
to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH. 173

which concealed the visage was made so nearly to
resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the
closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting
the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured,
if not approved, by the mad revelers around. But the
mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the
Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and
his broad brow with all the features of the face, was
besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this
spectral image (which with a slow and solemn move
ment, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and
fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed
in the first moment with a strong shudder either of
terror or distaste ; but in the next his brow reddened
with rage.

" Who dares ? " he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers
who stood near him — " Who dares insult us with this
blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him,
that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise
from the battlements ! "

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which
stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words.
They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and
clearly — for the prince was a bold and robust man,
and the music had become hushed at the waving of his
hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with
a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he
spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this
group in the direction of the intruder, who, at the
moment was also near at hand, and now, with delib
erate and stately step, made closer approach to the
speaker. But, from a certain nameless awe with which

174 THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.

the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the
whole party, there were found none who put forth hand
to seize him ; so that unimpeded he passed within a
yard of the prince's person ; and while the vast assem
bly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of
the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly,
but with the same solemn and measured step which
had distinguished him from the first, through the blue
chamber to the purple — through the purple to the
green — through the green to the orange — through
this again to the white — and even thence to the violet,
ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.
It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, mad
dening with rage and the shame of his own momentary
cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers,
while none followed him on account of a deadly terror
that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn
dagger, and had approached in rapid impetuosity, to
within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when
the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet
apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pur
suer. There was a sharp cry — and the dagger dropped
gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly
afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero.
Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng
of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black
apartment, and seizing the mummer, whose tall figure
stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the
ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding
the grave cerements and corpse-like mask which they
handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any
tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red
Death. He had come like a thief in the night ; and one

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH. 175

by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls
of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture
of his fall ; and the life of the ebony clock went out
with that of the last of the gay ; and the flames of the
tripods expired ; and darkness and decay and the Red
Death held illimitable dominion over all.

.-• -

THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

The thousand injuries of Fortunate I had borne as I
best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed
revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my
soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance
to a threat. At length I would be avenged ; this was a
point definitively settled — but the very definitivenes*
with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk.
I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A
wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its
redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger
fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done
the wrong.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed
had I given Fortunate cause to doubt my good will. I
continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he
did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought
of his immolation.

He had a weak point — this Fortunato — although in
other regards he was a man to be respected and even
feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in
wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For
the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the
time and opportunity to practice imposture upon the
British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and
gemmary Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack,
but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this
Vol. I.— 12. (177)

178 THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

respect I did not differ from him materially ; I was
skillful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely
whenever I could.

It was about dusk one evening during the supreme
madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my
friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he
had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He
had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head
was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so
pleased to see him, that I thought I should never have
done wringing his hand.

I said to him — " My dear Fortunate, you are luckily
met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day !
But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amon
tillado, and I have my doubts."

" How ? " said he, " Amontillado ? " A pipe ? Impos
sible ! And in the middle of the carnival ? "

"I have my doubts," I replied, "and I was silly
enough to pay the full Amontillado price without con
sulting you in the matter. You were not to be found,
and I was fearful of losing a bargain."

" Amontillado ! "

" I have my doubts."

" Amontillado ! "

" And I must satisfy them."

" Amontillado ! "

" As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi.
If any one has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell
me"

" Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."

" And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a
match for your own."

" Come let us go."

"Whither?"

THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO. 179

" To your vaults."

" My friend, no ; I will not impose upon your good
nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Lu-
chesi "

" I have no engagement ; come."

" My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the
severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The
vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with
nitre."

" Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely noth
ing. Amontillado ! You have been imposed upon ;
and as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from
Amontillado."

Thus speaking, Fortunate possessed himself of my arm.
Putting on a mask of black silk, and drawing a roque-
laure closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry
me to my palazzo.

There were no attendants at home ; they had ab
sconded to make merry in honor of the time. I had told
them that I should not return until the morning, and
had given them explicit orders not to stir from the
house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to in
sure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon
as my back was turned.

I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving
one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of
rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed
down a long and winding staircase requesting him to be
cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot
of the ^descent, and stood together on the damp ground
of the catacombs of the Montresors.

The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells
upon his cap jingled as he strode.

" The pipe," said he.

180 THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

" It is farther on," said I ; " but observe the white
web work which gleams from these cavern wralls."

He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes
with twro filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxi
cation.

"Nitre?" he asked, at length.

" Nitre," I replied. " How long have you had that
cough ! "

" Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! — ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! — ugh ! ugh !
ugh ! — ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! — ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! "

My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many
minutes.

" It is nothing," he said, at last.

" Come," I said with decision, "we will go back ; your
health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired,
beloved ; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man
to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go
back ; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Be
sides, there is Luchesi "

" Enough," he said ; " the cough is a mere noth
ing ; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a
cough."

" True — true," I replied ; " and, indeed, I had no in
tention of alarming you unnecessarily — but you should
use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will
defend us from the damps."

Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew
from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the
mould.

" Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.

He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and
nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.

" I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around
us."

THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO. 181

" And I to your long life."

He again took my arm and we proceeded.

" These vaults," he said, " are extensive."

" The Montresors," I replied, " were a great and num
erous family."

" I forget your arms."

" A huge human foot d'or, in a field az.ure ; the foot
crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are embedded in
the heel."

" And the motto ? "

" Nemo me impune lacessit"

61 Good ! " he said.

The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled.
My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had
passed through walls of piled bones, with casks and
puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the
catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold
to seize Fortunate by an arm above the elbow.

" The nitre ! " I said ; " see, it increases. It hangs
like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river's
bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones.
Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your
cough "-

" It is nothing," he said ; " let us go on. But first,
another draught of the Medoc."

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He
emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce
light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with
a gesticulation I did not understand.

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the move
ment — a grotesque one.

" You do not comprehend ? " he said.

" Not I," I replied.

" Then you are not of the brotherhood."

182 THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

"How?"

" You are not of the masons."

" Yes, yes," I said, " yes, yes."

" You ? Impossible ! A mason ? "

" A mason," I replied.

" A sign," he said.

" It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from be
neath the folds of my roquelaure.

" You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces.
" But let us proceed to the Amontillado."

" Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak,
and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it
heavily. We continued our route in search of the
Amontillado. We passed through a range of low
arches, descended, passed on, and descending again,
arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air
caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.

At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared
another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with
human remains piled to the vault overhead, in the
fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides
of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this
manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown
down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming
at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall
thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we per
ceived a still interior recess, in depth about four feet,
in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to
have been constructed for no especial use within itself,
but formed merely the interval between two of the
colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was
backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid
granite.

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull

THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO. 183

torch, endeavored to pry into the depths of the recess.
Its termination the feeble light did not enable us
to see.

" Proceed," I said ; " herein is the Amontillado. As
for Luchesi "

" He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he
stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immedi
ately at his heels. In an instant he had reached the
extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested
by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment
more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its
surface were two iron staples, distant from each other
about two feet, horizontally. From one of these de
pended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throw
ing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a
few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded
to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from
the recess.

" Pass your hand," I said, " over the wrall ; you cannot
help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is very damp. Once
more let me implore you to return. No ? Then I must
positively leave you. But I must first render you all
the little attentions in my power."

" The Amontillado ! " ejaculated my friend, not yet
recovered from his astonishment.

" True," I replied, " the Amontillado."

As I said these words I busied myself among the pile
of bones of which I have before spoken. Throwing
them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building
stone and mortar. With these materials and with the
aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the
entrance of the niche.

I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when
I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in

184 THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.

a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had
of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the
recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There
was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second
tier, and the third, and the fourth ; and then I heard
the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted
for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken
to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and
sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking
subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without
interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier.
The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast.
I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the
mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure
within.

A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting
suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed
to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I
hesitated — I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began
to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of
an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the
solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt satisfied. I re-
approached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who
clamored. I re-echoed — I aided — I surpassed them in
volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamorer
grew still.

It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to
a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the
tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and
the eleventh ; there remained but a single stone to
be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight ;
I placed it partially in its destined position. But now
there came from out the niche a low laugh that
erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded

THE CASE OF AMONTILLADO. 185

by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as
that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said —

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! he ! he ! — a very good joke indeed
— an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh
about it at the palazzo — he ! he ! he ! — over our wine —
he ! he ! he ! "

" The Amontillado ! " I said.

" He ! he ! he ! — he ! he ! he ! — yes, the Amontillado.
But is it not getting late ? Will not they be awaiting
us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest?
Let us be gone. "

" Yes, " I said, " let us be gone. "

" For the love of God, Montresor ! "

" Yes, " I said, " for the love of God ! "

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply.
I grew impatient. I called aloud —

" Fortunato ! "

No answer. I called again —

" Fortunato ! "

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remain
ing aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in
return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew
sick — on account of the dampness of the catacombs.
I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the
last stone into its position ; I plastered it up. Against
the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones.
For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them.

In pace requiescat !

MESMERIC REVELATION.

Whatever doubt may still envelop the rationale of
mesmerism, its startling fact* are now almost univer
sally admitted. Of these latter, those who doubt are
your mere doubters by profession — an unprofitable and
disreputable tribe. There can be no more absolute
waste of time than the attempt to prove at the present
day that man, by mere exercise of will, can so impress
his fellow as to cast him into an abnormal condition,
of which the phenomena resemble very closely those of
death, or at least resemble them more nearly than they
do the phenomena of any other normal condition within
our cognizance ; that, while in this state, the person so
impressed employs only with effort, and then feebly, the
external organs of sense, yet perceives witli keenly
refined perception, and through channels supposed
unknown, matters beyond the scope of the physical
organs; that, moreover, his intellectual faculties are
wonderfully exalted and invigorated ; that his sympa
thies with the person so impressing him are profound ;
and, finally, that his susceptibility to the impression
increases with its frequency, Avhile, in the same propor
tion, the peculiar phenomena elicited are more extended
and more pronounced.

I say that these — which are the laws of mesmerism
in its general features — it would be supererogation to
(187)

188 MESMERIC REVELATION.

demonstrate, nor shall I inflict upon my readers so
needless a demonstration to-day. My purpose at present
is a very different one indeed. I am impelled, even in
the teeth of a world of prejudice, to detail without
comment the very remarkable substance of a colloquy
occurring between a sleep-waker and myself.

I had been long in the habit of mesmerizing the
person in question (Mr. Vankirk), and the usual acute
susceptibility and exaltation of the mesmeric percep
tion had supervened. For many months he had been
laboring under confirmed phthisis, the more distressing
effects of which had been relieved by my manipulations,
and on the night of Wednesday, the fifteenth instant, I
was summoned to his bedside.

The invalid was suffering with acute pain in the region
of the heart, and breathed with great difficulty, having
all the ordinary symptoms of asthma. In spasms such
as these he had usually found relief from the applica
tion of mustard to the nervous centres, but to-night this
had been attempted in vain.

As I entered his room he greeted me with a cheerful
smile, and although evidently in much bodily pain,
appeared to be mentally quite at ease.

" I sent for you to-night, " he said, " not so much
to administer to my bodily ailment, as to satisfy me
concerning certain psychical impressions which of late
have occasioned me much anxiety and surprise. I need
not tell you how skeptical I have hitherto been on the
topic of the soul's immortality. I cannot deny that
there has always existed, as if in that very soul which
I have been denying, a vague half-sentiment of its
own existence. But this half-sentiment at no time
amounted to conviction. With it my reason had
nothing to do. All attempts at logical inquiry resulted,

MESMERIC REVELATION. 189

indeed in leaving me more skeptical than before. I
had been advised to study Cousin. I studied him in
his own works, as well as in those of his European
and American echoes. The ' Charles Elwood ' of Mr.
Brownson, for example, was placed in my hands. I
read it with profound attention. Throughout I found
it logical, but the portions which were not merely
logical were unhappily the initial arguments of the
disbelieving hero of the book. In his summing up it
seemed evident to me that the reasoner had not even
succeeded in convincing himself. His end had plainly
forgotten his beginning, like the government of Trin-
culo. In short, I was not long in perceiving that if
man is to be intellectually convinced of his own im
mortality, he will never be so convinced by the mere
abstractions which have been so long the fashion of the
moralists of England, of France, and of Germany.
Abstractions may amuse and exercise, but take no hold
on the mind. Here upon earth, at least, philosophy, I
am persuaded, will always in vain call upon us to look
upon qualities as things. The will may assent — the soul
— the intellect, never.

" I repeat, then, that I only half-felt, and never intel
lectually believed. But latterly there has been a certain
deepening of the feeling, until it has come so nearly
to resemble the acquiescence of reason, that I find it
difficult to distinguish between the two. I am enabled,
too, plainly to trace this effect to the mesmeric in
fluence. I cannot better explain my meaning than by
the hypothesis that the mesmeric exaltation enables
me to perceive a train of ratiocination which, in my
abnormal existence, convinces, but which, in full ac
cordance \vith the mesmeric phenomena, does not extend,
except through its effect-, into my normal condition.

190 MESMERIC REVELATION.

In sleep-waking, the reasoning and its conclusion — the
cause and its effect — are present together. In my natu
ral state, the cause vanishing, the effect only, and per
haps only partially, remains.

" These considerations have led me to think that some
good results might ensue from a series of well-directed
questions propounded to me while mesmerized. You
have often observed the profound self-cognizance evinced
by the sleep-waker — the extensive knowledge he dis
plays upon all points relating to the mesmeric condition
itself; and from this self-cognizance may be deduced
hints for the proper conduct of a catechism."

I consented of course to make this experiment. A
few passes threw Mr. Vankirk into the mesmeric sleep.
His breathing became immediately more easy, and he
seemed to suffer no physical uneasiness. The following
conversation then ensued — V. in the dialogue repre
senting the patient, and P. myself:

P. Are you asleep?

V. Yes — no ; I would rather sleep more soundly.

P. [ After a few more passes.] Do you sleep now ?

V. Yes.

P. How do you think your present illness will
result?

V. [After a long hesitation and speaking as if with
effort^] I must die.

P. Does the idea of death afflict you ?

V. [ Very quickly.'] No — no !

P. Are you pleased with the prospect?

F. If I were awake I should like to die, but now it
is no matter. The mesmeric condition is so near death
as to content me.

P. I wish you would explain yourself, Mr. Vankirk.

V. I am willing to do so, but it requires more effort

MESMERIC REVEL A TTON. 191

than I feel able to make. You do not question me
properly.

P. What then shall I ask?

F. You must begin at the beginning.

P. The beginning ! but where is the beginning ?

F. You know that the beginning is God. [This was
said in a low fluctuating tone, and with every sign of the
most profound veneration^]

P. What, then, is God ?

F. [Hesitating for many minutes.^ I cannot tell.

P. Is not God spirit ?

F. While I was awake I knew what you meant by
" spirit," but now it seems only a word ; such, for in
stance, as truth, beauty — a quality, I mean.

P. Is not God immaterial ?

F. There is no immateriality — it is a mere word.
That which is not matter, is not at all — unless qualities
are things.

P. Is God, then, material ?

F. No. [ This reply startled me very much.~\

P. What, then, is He ?

F. [After a long pause, and mutteringlyJ] I see —
but it is a thing difficult to tell. [Another long pause.']
He is not spirit, for He exists. Nor is He matter, as
you understand it. But there are gradations of matter
of which man knows nothing ; the grosser impelling
the finer, the finer pervading the grosser. The atmos
phere, for example, impels the electric principle, while
the electric principle permeates the atmosphere. These
gradations of matter increase in rarity or fineness until
wre arrive at a matter unparticled — without particles —
indivisible — one; and here the law of impulsion and
permeation is modified. The ultimate or unparticled
matter not only permeates all things but impels all

192 MESMERIC REVELATION.

things — and thus is all things within itself. This matter
is God. What men attempt to embody in the word
" thought " is this matter in motion.

P. The metaphysicians maintain that all action is
reducible to motion and thinking and that the latter is
the origin of the former.

V. Yes ; and I now see the confusion of idea. Mo
tion is the action of mind — not of thinking. The
unparticled matter, or God, in quiscence, is (as nearly
as we can conceive it) what men call mind. And the
power of self-movement (equivalent in effect to human
volition) is, in the unparticled matter, the result of its
unity and omniprevalence ; how I know not, and now
clearly see that I shall never know. But the unparti
cled matter, set in motion by a law, or quality, existing
within itself, is thinking.

P. Can you give me no more precise idea of what you
term the unparticled matter ?

V. The matters of which man is cognizant escape the
senses in gradation. We have, for example, a metal,
a piece of wood, a drop of water, the atmosphere, a gas,
caloric, electricity, the luminiferous ether. Now we
call all these things matter, and embrace all matter in
one general definition ; but in spite of this, there can
be no two ideas more essentially distinct than that
which we attach to a metal, and that which we attach
to the luminiferous ether. When we reach the latter,
we feel an almost irresistible inclination to class it with
spirit or with nihility. The only consideration which
restrains us is our conception of its atomic constitution ;
and here, even, we have to seek aid from our notion of
an atom, as something possessing an infinite minuteness,
solidity, palpability, weight. Destroy the idea of the
atomic constitution and we should no longer be able to

MESMERIC REVELATION. 193

regard the ether as an entity, or at least as matter.
For want of a better word we might term it spirit.
Take, now, a step beyond the luminiferous ether — con
ceive a matter as much more rare than the ether, as
this ether is more rare than the metal, and we arrive at
once (in spite of all the school dogmas) at a unique
mass — an unparticled matter. For although we may
admit infinite littleness in the atoms themselves, the
infinitude of littleness in the spaces between them is
an absurdity. There will be a point — there will be a
degree of rarity, at which, if the atoms are sufficiently
numerous, the interspaces must vanish, and the mass
absolutely coalesce. But the consideration of the
atomic constitution being now taken away, the nature
of the mass inevitably glides into what we conceive of
spirit. It is clear, however, that it is as fully matter as
before. The truth is, it is impossible to conceive spirit,
since it is impossible to imagine what is not. When we
natter ourselves that we have formed its conception, we
have merely deceived our understanding by the con
sideration of infinitely rarefied matter.

P. There seems to me an insurmountable objection
to the idea of absolute coalescence ; and that is the
very slight resistance experienced by the heavenly bodies
in their revolutions through space — a resistance now
ascertained, it is true, to exist in some degree, but which
is, nevertheless, so slight as to have been quite over
looked by the sagacity even of Newton. We know
that the resistance of bodies is chiefly in proportion to
their density. Absolute coalescence is absolute density.
Where there are no interspaces there can be no yield
ing. An ether absolutely dense would put an infinitely
more effectual stop to the progress of a star than would
an ether of adamant or of iron.

Vol. I.— 13.

194 MESMERIC REVELATION.

P. Your objection is answered with an ease which
is nearly in the ratio of its apparent unanswerability. —
As regards the progress of the star, it can make no
difference whether the star passes through the ether or
the ether through it. There is no astronomical error
more unaccountable than that which reconciles the
known retardation of the comets with the idea of their
passage through an ether : for, however rare this ether
be supposed, it would put a stop to all sidereal revolu
tion in a very far briefer period than has been admitted
by those astronomers who have endeavored to slur over
a point which they found it impossible to comprehend.
The retardation actually experienced is, on the other
hand, about that which might be expected from the
friction of the ether in the instantaneous passage through
the orb. In the one case, the retarding force is momen
tary and complete within itself — in the other it is end
lessly accumulative.

P. But in all this — in this identification of mere
matter with God — is there nothing of irreverence ! [ J
was forced to repeat this question before the sleep-waker
fully comprehended my meaning.]

V. Can you say ivhy matter should be less reverenced
than mind ? But you forget that the matter of which I
speak is in all respects the very " mind " or " spirit " of
the schools, so far as regards its high capacities, and is,
moreover, the " matter " of these schools at the same
time. God, with all the powers attributed to spirit, is
but the perfection of matter.

P. You assert, then, that the unparticled matter in
motion is thought ?

V. In general this motion is the universal thought of
the universal mind. This thought creates. All created
things are but the thoughts of God.

MESMERIC REVELATION. 195

P. You say, " in general."

V. Yes. The universal mind is God. For new in
dividualities matter is necessary.

P. But you now speak of "mind" and "matter" as
do the metaphysicians.

V. Yes — to avoid confusion. AVhen I say " mind,"
I mean the unparticled or ultimate matter ; by "matter,"
I intend all else.

P. You were saying that " for new individualities
matter is necessary."

V. Yes ; for mind existing noncorporate is merely
God. To create individual thinking beings it was neces
sary to incarnate portions of the divine mind. Thus man
is individualized. Divested of corporate investiture, he
were God. Now, the particular motion of the incarnated
portions of the unparticled matter is the thought of man,
as the motion of the whole is that of God.

P. You say that divested of the body man will be
God?

V. \_Afler much hesitation."] I could not have said
this ; it is an absurdity.

P. [Referring to my notes.'] You did say that " di
vested of corporate investiture man were God."

V. And this is true Man thus divested would be God
— would be unindividualized. But he can never be
thus divested — at least never will be — else we must
imagine an action of God returning upon itself — a pur
poseless and futile action. Man is a creature. Crea
tures are thoughts of God. It is the nature of thought
to be irrevocable.

P. I do not comprehend. You say that man will
never put off the body ?

V. I say that he will never be bodiless.

P. Explain.

196 MESMERIC REVELATION.

V. There are two bodies — the rudimental and the
complete ; corresponding with the two conditions of the
worm and the butterfly. What we call " death " is but
the painful metamorphosis. Our present incarnation is
progressive, preparatory, temporary. Our future is
perfected, ultimate, immortal. The ultimate life is the
full design.

P. But of the worm's metamorphosis we are palpably
cognizant.

V. We, certainly — but not the worm. The matter of
which our rudimental body is composed is within the
ken of the organs of that body ; or, more distinctly, our
rudimental organs are adapted to the matter of which is
formed the rudimental body, but not to that of which
the ultimate is composed. The ultimate body thus
escapes our rudimental senses, and we perceive only the
shell which falls in decaying from the inner form, not
that inner form itself; but this inner form, as well as
the shell, is appreciable by those who have already
acquired the ultimate life.

P. You have often said that the mesmeric state very
nearly resembles death. How is this ?

V. When I say that it resembles death, I mean that
it resembles the ultimate life ; for when I am entranced
the senses of my rudimental life are in abeyance, and
I perceive external things directly, without organs,
through a medium which I shall employ in the ultimate,
unorganized life.

P. Unorganized?

F. Yes ; organs are contrivances by which the indi
vidual is brought into sensible relation with particular
classes and forms of matter to the exclusion of other
classes and forms. The organs of man are adapted to his
rudimental condition, and to that only ; his ultimate

MESMERIC REVELATION. 197

condition, being unorganized, is of unlimited comprehen
sion in all points but one — the nature of the volition of
God — that is to say, the motion of the unparticled
matter. You will have a distinct idea of the ultimate
body by conceiving it to be entire brain. This it is
not ; but a conception of this nature will bring you near
a comprehension of what it is. A luminous body im
parts vibration to the luminiferous ether. The vibra
tions generate similar ones within the retina ; these again
communicate similar ones to the optic nerve. The nerve
conveys similar ones to the brain ; the brain, also, simi
lar ones to the unparticled matter which permeates it.
The motion of this latter is thought, of which perception
is the first undulation. This is the mode by which the
mind of the rudimental life communicates with the ex
ternal world ; and this external world is, to the rudi
mental life limited through the idiosyncrasy of its organs.
But in the ultimate unorganized life the external world
reaches the whole body (which is of a substance having
affinity to brain, as I have said), with no other interven
tion than that of an infinitely rarer ether than even the
luminiferous ; and to this ether — in unison with it — the
whole body vibrates, setting in motion the unparticled
matter which permeates it. It is to the absence of
idiosyncratic organs, therefore, that we must attribute
the nearly unlimited perception of the ultimate life.
To rudimental beings, organs are the cages necessary to
confine them until fledged.

P. You speak of rudimental "beings." Are there
other rudimental thinking beings than man ?

V. The multitudinous conglomeration of rare matter
into nebulae, planets, suns, and other bodies which are
neither nebulae, suns nor planets, is for the sole purpose
of supply ing />« 6 ^wwi for the idiosyncrasy of the organs

198 MESMERIC REVELATION,

of an infinity of rudimental beings. But for the neces
sity of the rudimental, prior to the ultimate life, there
would have been no bodies such as these. Each of
these is tenanted by a distinct variety of organic,
rudimental thinking creatures. In all, the organs
vary with the features of the place tenanted. At
death, or metamorphosis, these creatures, enjoying the
ultimate life — immortality — and cognizant of all secrets
but the one, act all things and pass everywhere by mere
volition : — indwelling, not the stars, which to us seem the
sole palpabilities, and for the accommodation of which
wre blindly deem space created — but that SPACE itself —
that infinity of which the truly substantive vastness
swallows up the star-shadows — blotting them out as
nonentities from the perception of the angel.

P. You say that " but for the necessity of the rudi
mental life " there would have been no stars. But why
this necessity ?

V. In the inorganic life, as well as in the inorganic
matter generally, there is nothing to impede the action
of one simple unique law — the Divine volition. With
the view of producing impediment, the organic life and
matter (complex, substantial, and law-encumbered),
were contrived.

P. But again — why need this impediment have been
produced ?

V. The result of law inviolate is perfection — right
— negative happiness. The result of law violate is
imperfection, wrong, positive pain. Through the im
pediments afforded by the number, complexity, and
substantiality of the laws of organic life and matter,
the violation of law is rendered to a certain extent
practicable. Thus pain, which in the inorganic life is
impossible, is possible in the organic.

MESMERIC REVELATION. 199

P. But to what good end is pain thus rendered
possible ?

F. All things are either good or bad by comparison.
A sufficient analysis will show that pleasure, in all
cases, is but the contrast of pain. Positive pleasure is
a mere idea. To be happy at any one point we must
have suffered at the same. Never to suffer would
have been never to have been blessed. But it has been
shown that in the inorganic life pain cannot be, thus
the necessity for the organic. The pain of the primi
tive life of Earth is the sole basis of the bliss of the
ultimate life in Heaven.

P. Still there is one of your expressions which I find
it impossible to comprehend — " the truly substantive
vastness of infinity."

V. This, probably, is because you have no sufficiently
generic conception of the term "substance" itself. We
must not regard it as a quality but as a sentiment ;
it is the perception, in thinking beings, of the adapta
tion of matter to their organization. There are many
things on the Earth, which would be nihility to the
inhabitants of Venus — many things visible and tangible
in Venus which we could not be brought to appreciate
as existing at all. But to the inorganic beings — to
the angels — the whole of the unparticled matter is sub
stance ; that is to say, the whole of what we term
" space " is to them the truest substantiality ; — the stars,
meantime, through what we consider their materiality,
escaping the angelic sense, just in proportion as the
unparticled matter through what we consider its imma
teriality eludes the organic.

As the sleep-waker pronounced these latter words in
a feeble tone, I observed on his countenance a singular
expression, which somewhat alarmed me, and induced

200 MESMERIC REVELATION.

me to awake him at once. No sooner had I done this,
than, with a bright smile irradiating all his features, he
fell back upon his pillow and expired. I noticed that
in less than a minute afterward his corpse had all the
stern rigidity of stone. His brow was of the coldness
of ice. Thus, ordinarily, should it have appeared only
after long pressure from Azrael's hand. Had the sleep-
waker, indeed, during the latter portion of his discourse,
been addressing me from out the region of the shadows ?

CASH OF M.VALDEMAR

THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF
M. VALDEMAR.

Of course I shall not pretend to consider it any matter
for wonder that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar
has excited discussion. It would have been a miracle had
it not — especially under the circumstances. Through
the desire of all parties concerned to keep the affair
from the public, at least for the present, or until we had
further opportunities for investigation — through our
endeavors to effect this — a garbled or exaggerated
account made its way into society and became the
source of many unpleasant misrepresentations ; and,
very naturally, of a great deal of disbelief.

It is now rendered necessary that I give the fads —
as far as I comprehend them myself. They are, suc
cinctly, these :

My attention for the last three years had been re
peatedly drawn to the subject of Mesmerism ; and
about nine months ago it occurred to me, quite suddenly,
that in the series of experiments made hitherto there
had been a very remarkable and most unaccountable
omission : — no person had as yet been mesmerized in
artieulo mortis. It remained to be seen, first, whether,
in such condition, there existed in the patient any
susceptibility to the magnetic influence ; secondly,
whether, if any existed, it was impaired or increased
by the condition ; thirdly, to what extent, or for how
long a period, the encroachments of Death might be
(201)

202 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

arrested by the process. There were other points to be
ascertained, but these most excited my curiosity — the
last in especial, from the immensely important character
of its consequences.

In looking around me for some subject by whose
means I might test these particulars, I was brought to
think of my friend, M. Ernest Valdemar, the well-
known compiler of the " Bibliotheca Forensica," and
author (under the nom de plume of Issachar Marx) of
the Polish versions of " Wallenstein " and " Gargantua."
M. Valdemar, who has resided principally at Harlem,
N. Y., since the year 1839, is (or was) particularly
noticeable for the extreme spareness of his person — his
lower limbs much resembling those of John Randolph ;
and also for the whiteness of his whiskers, in violent
contrast to the blackness of his hair — the latter, in
consequence, being very generally mistaken for a wig.
His temperament was markedly nervous, and rendered
him a good subject for mesmeric experiment. On two
or three occasions I had put him to sleep with little
difficulty, but was disappointed in other results which
his peculiar constitution had naturally led me to antici
pate. His will was at no period positively or thor
oughly under my control, and in regard to clairvoyance,
I could accomplish with him nothing to be relied
upon. I always attributed my failure at these points
to the disordered state of his health. For some months
previous to my becoming acquainted with him his
physicians had declared him in a confirmed phthisis.
It was his custom, indeed, to speak calmly of his ap
proaching dissolution as of a matter neither to be
avoided nor regretted.

When the ideas to which I have alluded first occurred
to me, it was of course very natural that I should think

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 203

of M. Valdemar. I knew the steady philosophy of
the man too well to apprehend any scruples from him;
and he had no relatives in America who would be
likely to interfere. I spoke to him frankly upon the
subject, and to my surprise his interest seemed vividly
excited. I say to my surprise; for, although he had
always yielded his person freely to my experiments, he
had never before given me any tokens of sympathy
with what I did. His disease was of that character
which would admit of exact calculation in respect to
the epoch of its termination in death ; and it was
finally arranged between us that he would send for me
about twenty-four hours before the period announced
by his physicians as that of his decease.

It is now rather more than seven months since I re
ceived, from M. Valdemar himself, the subjoined note:

"MY DEAR P ,—

" You may as well come now. D and

F are agreed that I cannot hold out beyond to
morrow midnight ; and I think they have hit the time
very nearly.

" VALDEMAR "

I received this note within half an hour after it was
written, and in fifteen minutes more I was in the dying
man's chamber. I had not seen him for ten days, and
was appalled by the fearful alteration which the brief
interval had wrought in him. His face wore a leaden
hue ; the eyes were utterly lustreless ; and the emaciation
was so extreme that the skin had been broken through
by the cheek bones. His expectoration was exces
sive. The pulse was barely perceptible. He retained,

204 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

nevertheless, in a very remarkable manner, both his
mental power and a certain degree of physical strength.
He spoke with distinctness — took some palliative medi
cines without aid — and, when I entered the room, was
occupied in penciling memoranda in a pocketbook.
He was propped up in the bed by pillows. Doctors
D and F— - were in attendance.

After pressing Valdemar's hand, I took these gentle
men aside, and obtained from them a minute account
of the patient's condition. The left lung had been for
eighteen months in a semi-osseous or cartilaginous
state, and was of course entirely useless for all purposes
of vitality. The right in its upper portion, was also
partially if not thoroughly ossified, while the lowTer
region was merely a mass of purulent tubercles run
ning one into another. Several extensive perforations
existed, and at one point permanent adhesion to the
ribs had taken place. These appearances in the right
lobe were of comparatively recent date. The ossifica
tion had proceeded with very unusual rapidity ; no
sign of it had been discovered a month before, and the
adhesion had only been observed during the three pre
vious days. Independently of the phthisis, the patient
was suspected of aneurism of the aorta ; but on this
point the osseous symptoms rendered an exact diagnosis
impossible. It was the opinion of both physicians that
M. Valdemar would die about midnight on the morrow
(Sunday) . It was then seven o'clock on Saturday
evening.

On quitting the invalid's bedside to hold conversa
tion with myself, Doctors D and F had bidden

him a final farewell. It had not been their intention to
return ; but, at my request, they agreed to look in upon
the patient about ten the next night.

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 205

When they had gone, I spoke freely with M. Valde-
mar on the subject of his approaching dissolution, as
well as, more particularly, of the experiment proposed.
He still professed himself quite willing and even anxious
to have it made, and urged me to commence it at once.
A male and a female nurse were in attendance ; but I
did not feel myself altogether at liberty to engage in a
task of this character with no more reliable witnesses
than these people, in case of sudden accident, might
prove. I therefore postponed operations until about
eight the next night, when the arrival of a medical
student, with whom I had some acquaintance (Mr.
Theodore L 1), relieved me from farther embarrass
ment. It had been my design, originally, to wait for
the physicians ; but I was induced to proceed, first, by
the urgent entreaties of M. Valdemar, and secondly,
by my conviction that I had not a moment to lose, as
he was evidently sinking fast.

Mr. L 1 was so kind as to accede to my desire that

he would take notes of all that occurred ; and it is from
his memoranda that what I now have to relate is, for
the most part, either condensed or copied verbatim.

It wanted about five minutes of eight when, taking
the patient's hand, I begged him to state, as distinctly

as he could, to Mr. L 1, whether he (M. Valdemar)

was entirely willing that I should make the experiment
of mesmerizing him in his then condition.

He replied feebly, yet quite audibly, " Yes, I wish to
be mesmerized" — adding immediately afterwards, "I
fear you have deferred it too long."

While he spoke thus, I commenced the passes which
I had already found most effectual in subduing him.
He was evidently influenced with the first lateral stroke
of my hand across his forehead, but although I exerted

206 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAB.

all my powers, no farther perceptible effect was induced
until some minutes after ten o'clock, when Doctors

D and F called, according to appointment.

I explained to them in a few words what I designed, and
as they opposed no objection, saying that the patient was
already in the death agony, I proceeded without hesi
tation — exchanging, however, the lateral passes for
downward ones, and directing my gaze entirely into the
right eye of the sufferer.

By this time his pulse was imperceptible and his
breathing was stertorous, and at intervals of half a
minute.

This condition was nearly unaltered for a quarter of
an hour. At the expiration of this period, however, a
natural although a very deep sigh escaped the bosom
of the dying man, and the stertorous breathing ceased
— that is to say, its stertorousness was no longer ap
parent ; the intervals were undiminished. The patient's
extremities were of an icy coldness.

At five minutes before eleven I perceived unequivocal
signs of the mesmeric influence. The glassy roll of the
eye was changed for that expression of uneasy inward
examination which is never seen except in cases of sleep-
waking, and which it is quite impossible to mistake.
With a few rapid lateral passes I made the lids quiver,
as in incipient sleep, and with a few more I closed
them altogether. I was not satisfied, however, with this,
but continued the manipulations vigorously, and with
the fullest exertion of the will, until I had completely
stiffened the limbs of the slumberer, after placing them
in a seemingly easy position. The legs were at full
length ; the arms were nearly so, and reposed on the
bed at a moderate distance from the loins. The head
was very slightly elevated.

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 207

When I had accomplished this it was fully midnight,
and I requested the gentlemen present to examine M.
Valdemar's condition. After a few experiments, they
admitted him to be in an unusually perfect state of
mesmeric trance. The curiosity of both the physicians

was greatly excited. Dr. D resolved at once to

remain with the patient all night, while Dr. F

took leave with a promise to return at daybreak. Mr.
L 1 and the nurses remained.

AVe left M. Yaldemar entirely undisturbed until
about three o'clock in the morning, when I approached
him and found him in precisely the same condition as
when Dr. F— - went away — that is to say, he lay
in the same position ; the pulse was imperceptible ; the
breathing was gentle (scarcely noticeable, unless through
the application of a mirror to the lips) ; the eyes were
closed naturally ; and the limbs were as rigid and as
cold as marble. Still, the general appearance was cer
tainly not that of death.

As I approached M. Yaldemar I made a kind of
half effort to influence his right arm into pursuit of my
own, as I passed the latter gently to and fro above his
person. In such experiments with this patient, I had
never perfectly succeeded before, and assuredly I had
little thought of succeeding now ; but, to my astonish
ment, his arm very readily, although feebly, followed
every direction I assigned it with mine. I determined
to hazard a few words of conversation.

"M. Yaldemar," I said, " are you asleep? " He made
no answer, but I perceived a tremor about the lips, and
was thus induced to repeat the question, again and
again. At this third repetition, his whole frame was
agitated by a very slight shivering : the eyelids unclosed
themselves so far as to display a white line of a ball ; the

208 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

lips moved sluggishly, and from between them, in a
barely audible whisper, issued the words :

" Yes ; — asleep now. Do not awake me ! — let me
die so ! "

I here felt the limbs, and found them as rigid as ever.
The right arm, as before, obeyed the direction of my
hand. I questioned the sleep-waker again :

" Do you still feel pain in the breast, M. Valdemar ? "

The answer now was immediate, but even less audible
than before :

" No pain — I am dying."

I did not think it advisable to disturb him farther
just then, and nothing more was said or done until the

arrival of Dr. F , who came a little before sunrise,

and expressed unbounded astonishment at finding the
patient still alive. After feeling the pulse and applying
a mirror to the lips, he requested me to speak to the
sleep-waker again. I did so, saying :

" M. Valdemar, do you still sleep ? "

As before, some minutes elapsed ere a reply was
made ; and during the interval the dying man seemed
to be collecting his energies to speak. At my fourth
repetition of the question, he said very faintly, almost
inaudibly :

"Yes; still asleep — dying."

It was now the opinion, or rather the wish, of the
physicians, that M. Valdemar should be suffered to
remain undisturbed in his present apparently tranquil
condition, until death should supervene ; and this, it
was generally agreed, must now take place within a
few minutes. f I concluded, however, to speak to him
once more, and merely repeated my previous question.

While I spoke, there came a marked change over
the countenance of the sleep-waker. The eyes rolled

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 209

themselves slowly open, the pupils disappearing upwardly ;
the skin generally assumed a cadaverous hue, resembling
not so much parchment as white paper : and the circu
lar hectic spots, which hitherto had been strongly
defined in the centre of each cheek, went out at once.
I use this expression, because the suddenness of their
departure put me in mind of nothing so much as the
extinguishment of a candle by a puff of the breath.
The upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away
from the teeth, which it had previously covered com
pletely ; while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk,
leaving the mouth widely extended, and disclosing in
full view the swollen and blackened tongue. I presume
that no member of the party then present had been
unaccustomed to death-bed horrors ; but so hideous
beyond conception was the appearance of M. Valdemar
at this moment, that there was a general shrinking back
from the region of the bed.

I now feel that I have reached a point of this
narrative at which every reader will be startled into
positive disbelief. It is my business, however, simply to
proceed.

There was no longer the faintest sign of vitality in
M. Valdemar ; and, concluding him to be dead, we
were consigning him to the charge of the nurses,
when a strong vibratory motion was observable in the
tongue. This continued for perhaps a minute. At
the expiration of this period, there issued from the dis
tended and motionless jaws a voice — such as it would
be madness in me to attempt describing. There are,
indeed, two or three epithets which might be con
sidered as applicable to it in part ; I might say, for
example, that the sound was harsh, and broken and
hollow ; but the hideous wThole is indescribable, for the

Vol. I. -14.

210 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

simple reason that no similar sounds have ever jarred
upon the ear of humanity. There were two particulars,
nevertheless, which I thought then, and still think,
might fairly be stated as characteristic of the intona
tion — as well adapted to convey some idea of its un
earthly peculiarity. In the first place, the voice seemed
to reach our ears — at least mine — from a vast distance,
or from some deep cavern within the earth. In the
second place, it impressed me (I fear, indeed, that it will
be impossible to make myself comprehended) as gelat
inous or glutinous matters impress the sense of touch.

I have spoken both of " sound " and of " voice." I
mean to say that the sound was one of distinct — of
even wonderfully thrillingly distinct syllabification.
M. Valdemar spoke — obviously in reply to the question
I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had
asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He
now said :

" Yes ; — no ; — I have been sleeping — and now — now I
am dead."

No person present even affected to deny or attempted
to repress the unutterable, shuddering horror which
these few words, thus uttered, were so well calculated to

convey. Mr. L 1 (the student) swrooned. The nurses

immediately left the chamber, and could not be induced
to return. My own impressions I would not pretend to
render intelligible to the reader. For nearly an hour
we busied ourselves, silently — without the utterance of

a word — in endeavors to revive Mr. L 1. When he

came to himself we addressed ourselves again to an
investigation of M. Valdemar's condition.

It remained in all respects as I have last described it
with the exception that the mirror no longer afforded
evidence of respiration. An attempt to draw blood

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 211

from the arm failed. I should mention, too, that this
limb was no farther subject to my will. I endeavored
in vain to make it follow the direction of my hand.
The only real indication, indeed, of the mesmeric influ
ence wras now found in the vibratory movement of the
tongue, whenever I addressed M. Valdemar a question.
He seemed to be making an effort to reply, but had no
longer sufficient volition. To queries put to him by any
other person than myself he seemed utterly insensible —
although I endeavored to place each member of the
company in mesmeric rapport with him. I believe that
I have now related all that is necessary to an under
standing of the sleep-waker's state at this epoch. Other
nurses were procured ; and at ten o'clock I left the
house in company with the two physicians and Mr.
L 1.

In the afternoon we all called again to see the patient.
His condition remained precisely the same. We had
now some discussion as to the propriety and feasibility
of awakening him ; but we had little difficulty in agree
ing that no good purpose would be served by so doing.
It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually
termed death) had been arrested by the mesmeric pro
cess. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Val
demar would be merely to insure his instant, or at least
his speedy dissolution.

From this period until the close of last week — an
interval of nearly seven months — we continued to make
daily calls at M. Valdemar's house, accompanied now
and then by medical and other friends. All this time
the sleep-waker remained exactly as I have last described
him. The nurses' attentions were continual.

It was on Friday last that we finally resolved to
make the experiment of awakening, or attempting to

212 THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR.

awaken him ; and it is the (perhaps) unfortunate result
of this latter experiment which has given rise to so
much discussion in private circles — to so much of what
I cannot help thinking unwarranted popular feeling.

For the purpose of relieving M. Valdemar from the
mesmeric trance I made use of the customary passes.
These for a time were unsuccessful. The first indication
of revival was afforded by a partial descent of the iris.
It was observed, as especially remarkable, that this
lowering of the pupil was accompanied by the profuse
outflowing of a yellowish ichor (from beneath the lids)
of a pungent and highly offensive odor.

It was now suggested that I should attempt to influ
ence the patient's arm, as heretofore. I made the

attempt and failed. Dr. F then intimated a desire

to have me put a question. I did so, as follows :

" M. Valdemar, can you explain to us what are your
feelings or wishes now ? "

There was an instant return of the hectic circles on
the cheeks : the tongue quivered, or rather rolled vio
lently in the mouth (although the jaws and lips
remained rigid as before) ; and at length the same
hideous voice, which I have already described, broke
forth:

" For God's sake ! — quick ! — quick ! — put me to sleep
— or, quick ! — waken me ! — quick ! — I say to you that
I am dead ! "

I was thoroughly unnerved, and for an instant
remained undecided what to do. At first I made an
endeavor to recompose the patient ; but failing in this
through total abeyance of the will, I retraced my steps
and as earnestly struggled to awaken him. In this
attempt I soon saw that I should be successful — or at
least I soon fancied that my success would be complete ;

THE CASE OF M. VALDEMAR. 213

and I am sure that all in the room were prepared to see
the patient awaken.

For what really occurred, however, it is quite impos
sible that any human being could have been prepared.

As I rapidly made the mesmeric passes, amid ejacu
lations of " dead ! dead " absolutely bursting from the
tongue and not from the lips of the sufferer, his whole
frame at once — within the space of a single minute, or
even less, shrunk — crumbled — absolutely rotted away
beneath my hands. Upon the bed, before that whole
company, there lay a nearly liquid mass of loathsome —
of detestable putridity.

VTboel

MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN A BOTTLE

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

Qui n'a plus qu'un moment a vivre

N'a plus rien a dissimuler.— QUINAULT— ATYS.

Of my country and of my family I have little to say.
Ill-usage and length of years have driven me from the
one, and estranged me from the other. Hereditary
wealth afforded me an education of no common order,
and a contemplative turn of mind enabled me to
methodize the stores which early study very diligently
garnered up. Beyond all things, the works of the
German moralists gave me great delight ; not from
any ill-advised admiration of their eloquent madness,
but from the ease with which my habits of rigid
thought enabled me to detect their falsities. I have
often been reproached with the aridity of my genius ;
a deficiency of imagination has been imputed to me as
a crime ; and the Pyrrhonism of my opinions has at
all times rendered me notorious. Indeed, a strong
relish for physical philosophy has, I fear, tinctured my
mind with a very common error, of this age — I mean
the habit of referring occurrences, even the least sus
ceptible of such reference, to the principles of that
science. Upon the whole, no person could be less
liable than myself to be led away from the severe pre
cincts of truth by the ignes fatui of superstition. I
have thought proper to premise thus much, lest the
incredible tale I have to tell should be considered
rather the raving of a crude imagination than the
(215)

216 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

positive experience of a mind to which the reveries of
fancy have been a dead letter and a nullity.

After many years spent in foreign travel, I sailed in
the year 18 — , from the port of Batavia, in the rich and
populous island of Java, on a voyage to the Archipelago
of the Sunda Islands. I went as a passenger — having
no other inducement than a kind of nervous restlessness
which haunted me as a fiend.

Our vessel was a beautiful ship of about four hundred
tons, copper-fastened, and built at Bombay of Malabar
teak. She was freighted with cotton-wool and oil, from
the Lachadive Islands. We had also on board coir,
jaggeree, ghee, cocoanuts, and a few cases of opium.
The stowage was clumsily done, and the vessel conse
quently crank.

"We got under way with a mere breath of wind, and
for many days stood along the eastern coast of Java,
without any other incident to beguile the monotony of
our course than the occasional meeting with some of the
small grabs of the Archipelego to which we were
bound.

One evening, leaning over the taffrail, I observed a
very singular isolated cloud to the N. W. It was
remarkable, as well for its color as from its being the
first we had seen since our departure from Batavia.
I watched it attentively until sunset, when it spread
all at once to the eastward and westward, girting in
the horizon with a narrow strip of vapor, and looking
like a long line of low beach. My notice was soon
afterwards attracted by the dusky-red appearance
of the moon, and the peculiar character of the sea.
The latter was undergoing a rapid change, and the
water seemed more than usually transparent. Although
I could distinctly see the bottom, yet, heaving the lead,

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE. 217

I found the ship in fifteen fathoms. The air now
became intolerably hot, and was loaded with spiral
exhalations similar to those arising from heated iron.
As night came on, every breath of wind died away,
and a more entire calm it is impossible to conceive.
The flame of a caudle burned upon the poop without
the least perceptible motion, and a long hair, held
between the finger and thumb, hung without the
possibility of detecting a vibration. However, as the
captain said he could perceive no indication of danger,
and as we were drifting in bodily to shore, he ordered
the sails to be furled and the anchor let go. No
watch was set, and the crew consisting principally of
Malays, stretched themselves deliberately upon deck, I
went below — not without a full presentiment of evil.
Indeed, every appearance warranted me in apprehend
ing a simoon. I told the captain my fears ; but he
paid no attention to what I said, and left me without
deigning to give a reply. My uneasiness, however, pre
vented me from sleeping, and about midnight I went
upon deck. As I placed my foot upon the upper step
of the companion-ladder, I was startled by a loud hum
ming noise, like that occasioned by the rapid revolution
of a mill-wheel, and before I could ascertain its meaning,
I found the ship quivering to its centre. In the next
instant a wilderness of foam hurled us upon our beam-
ends, and, rushing over us fore and aft, swept the entire
decks from stem to stern.

The extreme fury of the blast proved, in a great
measure, the salvation of the ship. Although com
pletely water-logged, yet, as her masts had gone by the
board, she rose, after a minute, heavily from the sea,
and, staggering a while beneath the immense pressure
of the tempest, finally righted.

218 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

By what miracle, I escaped destruction it is impos
sible to say. Stunned by the shock of the water, I
found myself upon recovery, jammed in between the
stern-post and rudder. With great difficulty I gained
my feet, and, looking dizzily around, was at first struck
with the idea of our being among breakers ; so terrific,
beyond the wildest imagination, was the whirlpool of
mountainous and foaming ocean within which we were
engulfed. After a while I heard the voice of an old
Swede, who had shipped with us at the moment
of our leaving port. I hallooed to him with all my
strength, and presently he came reeling aft. We soon
discovered that we were the sole survivors of the
accident. All on deck, with the exception of our
selves, had been swept overboard ; the captain and
mates must have perished as they slept, for the cabins
were deluged with water. Without assistance we
could expect to do little for the security of the ship,
and our exertions were at first paralyzed by the
momentary expectation of going down. Our cable
had, of course, parted like pack-thread, at the first
breath of the hurricane, or we should have been instan
taneously overwhelmed. We scudded with frightful
velocity before the sea, and the water made clear
breaches over us. The framework of our stern was
shattered excessively, and in almost every respect we
had received considerable injury ; but to our extreme
joy we found the pumps unchoked, and that we had
made no great shifting of our ballast. The main fury
of the blast had already blown over, and we appre
hended little danger from the violence of the wrind ;
but we looked forward to its total cessation with dis
may ; well believing, that in our shattered condition,
we should inevitably perish in the tremendous swell

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE. 219

which would ensue. But this very just apprehension
seemed by no means likely to be soon verified. For
five entire days and nights — during which our only sub
sistence was a small quantity of jaggeree, procured with
great difficulty from the forecastle — the hulk flew at a
rate defying computation, before rapidly succeeding
flaws of wind, which, without equaling the first violence
of the simoon, were still more terrific than any tempest
I had before encountered. Our course for the first
four days was, with trifling variations, 8. E. and by S. ;
and we must have run down the coast of New Holland.
On the fifth day the cold became extreme, although the
wind had hauled round a point more to the northward.
The sun arose with a sickly yellow lustre, and clam
bered a very few degrees above the horizon — emitting
no decisive light. There were no clouds apparent, yet
the wind was upon the increase and blew with a fitful
and unsteady fury. About noon, as nearly as we could
guess, our attention was again arrested by the appear
ance of the sun. It gave out no light, properly so called,
but a dull and sullen glow without reflection, as if all
its rays were polarized. Just before sinking within the
turgid sea, its central fires suddenly went out, as if
hurriedly extinguished by some unaccountable power.
It was a dim, silver-like rim, alone, as it rushed down
the unfathomable ocean.

We waited in vain for the arrival of the sixth day —
that day to me has not arrived — to the Swede never did
arrive. Thenceforward we were enshrouded in pitchy
darkness, so that we could not have seen an object at
twenty paces from the ship. Eternal night continued
to envelop us, all unrelieved by the phosphoric sea-
brilliancy to which we had been accustomed in the
tropics. We observed, too, that, although the tempest

220 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

continued to rage with unabated violence, there was no
longer to be discovered the usual appearance of surf, or
foam, which had hitherto attended us. All around
were horror, and thick gloom, and a black sweltering
desert of ebony. Superstitious terror crept by degrees
into the spirit of the old Swede, and my own soul was
wrapped up in silent wonder. We neglected all care
of the ship as worse than useless, and securing our
selves, as wrell as possible, to the stump of the mizzenmast,
looked out bitterly into the world of ocean. We had
no means of calculating time, nor could we form any
guess of our situation. We wrere, however, well aware
of having made farther to the southward than any
previous navigators, and felt great amazement at not
meeting with the usual impediments of ice. In the
meantime every moment threatened to be our last —
every mountainous billow hurried to overwhelm us.
The swell surpassed anything I had imagined possible,
and that we were not instantly buried is a miracle.
My companion spoke of the lightness of our cargo, and
reminded me of the excellent qualities of our ship ;
but I could not help feeling the utter hopelessness of
hope itself, and prepared myself gloomily for that death
which I thought nothing could defer beyond an hour,
as, with every knot of way the ship made, the swelling
of the black stupendous seas became more dismally
appalling. At times we gasped for breath at an eleva
tion beyond the albatross — at times became dizzy with
the velocity of our descent into some watery hell, where
the air grew stagnant, and no sound disturbed the
slumbers of the kraken.

We were at the bottom of one of the abysses, when
a quick scream from my companion broke fearfully
upon the night. " See ! see ! " cried he, shrieking in my

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE. 221

ears, " Almighty God ! see ! see ! " As he spoke, I
became aware of a dull, sullen glare of red light which
streamed down the sides of the vast chasm where we
lay, and threw a fitful brilliancy upon our deck. Cast
ing my eyes upwards, I beheld a spectacle which froze
the current of my blood. At a terrific height directly
above us, and upon the very verge of the precipitous
descent, hovered a gigantic ship, of perhaps four thou
sand tons. Although up reared upon the summit of a
wave more than a hundred times her own altitude, her
apparent size still exceeded that of any ship of the line
or East Indiaman in existence. Her huge hull was of
a deep dingy black, unrelieved by any of the customary
carvings of a ship. A single row of brass cannon pro
truded from her open ports, and dashed from their
polished surfaces the fires of innumerable battle-lanterns,
which swung to and fro about her rigging. But what
mainly inspired us with horror and astonishment was,
that she bore up under a press of sail in the very teeth
of that supernatural sea, and of that ungovernable
hurricane. AVhen we first discovered her, her bows
were alone to be seen, as she rose slowly from the dim
and horrible gulf beyond her. For a moment of intense
terror she paused upon the giddy pinnacle, as if in
contemplation of her own sublimity, then trembled and
tottered, and — came down.

At this instant, I know not what sudden self-pos
session came over my spirit. Staggering as far aft as
I could, I awaited fearlessly the ruin that was to over
whelm. Our own vessel was at length ceasing from
her struggles, and sinking with her head to the sea.
The shock of the descending mass struck her, conse
quently, in that portion of her frame which was already
under water, and the inevitable result was to hurl

222 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

me, with irresistible violence, upon the rigging of the
stranger.

As I fell, the ship hove in stays, and went about,
and to the confusion ensuing I attributed my escape
from the notice of the crew. With little difficulty I
made my way, unperceived, to the main hatchway,
which was partially open, and soon found an opportu
nity of secreting myself in the hold. Why I did so I
can hardly tell. An indefinite sense of awe, which at
first sight of the navigators of the ship had taken hold of
my mind, was perhaps the principle of my concealment.
I was unwilling to trust myself with a race of people who
had offered, to the cursory glance I had taken, so many
points of vague novelty, doubt, and apprehension. I
therefore thought proper to contrive a hiding place in
the hold. This I did by removing a small portion of the
shifting-boards, in such a manner as to afford me a con
venient retreat between the huge timbers of the ship.

I had scarcely completed my work, when a footstep
in the hold forced me to make use of it. A man passed
by my place of concealment with a feeble and unsteady
gait. I could not see his face, but had an opportunity
of observing his general appearance. There was about
it an evidence of great age and infirmity. His knees
tottered beneath a load of years, and his entire frame
quivered under the burden. He muttered to himself,
in a low broken tone, some words of a language which
I could not understand, and groped in a corner among
a pile of singular-looking instruments, and decayed
charts of navigation. His manner was a wild mixture
of the peevishness of second childhood and the solemn
dignity of a God. He at length went on deck, and I
saw him no more.

# * * *

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE. 223

A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken pos
session of my soul — a sensation which will admit of no
analysis, to which the lessons of bygone time are inade
quate, and for which I fear futurity itself will offer me
no key. To a mind constituted like my own, the latter
consideration is an evil. I shall never — I know that I
shall never — be satisfied with regard to the nature of
my conceptions. Yet it is not wonderful that these
conceptions are indefinite, since they have their origin
in sources so utterly novel. A new sense — a new entity
is added to my soul.

* * * *

It is long since I first trod the deck of this terrible
ship, and the rays of my destiny are, I think, gathering
to a focus. Incomprehensible men ! Wrapped up in
meditations of a kind which I cannot divine, they pass
me by unnoticed. Concealment is utter folly on my
part, for the people will not see. It was but just now
that I passed directly before the eyes of the mate ; it
was no long while ago that I ventured into the cap
tain's own private cabin, and took thence the materials
with which I write, and have written. I shall from
time to time continue this journal. It is true that I
may not find an opportunity of transmitting it to the
world, but I will not fail to make the endeavor. At
the last moment I will enclose the MS. in a bottle and
cast it within the sea.

* * * *

An incident has occurred which has given me new
room for meditation. Are such things the operation
of ungoverned chance? I have ventured upon deck
and thrown myself down, without attracting any
notice, among a pile of ratline stuff and old sails, in
the bottom of the yawl. While musing upon the

224 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

singularity of my fate, I unwittingly daubed with a
tar brush the edges of a neatly folded studding-sail
which lay near me on a barrel. The studding-sail is
now bent upon the ship, and the thoughtless touches of
the brush are spread out into the word DISCOVERY.

I have made many observations lately upon the
structure of the vessel. Although well armed, she is
not, I think, a ship of war. Her rigging, build, and
general equipment, all negative a supposition of this
kind. What she is not, I can easily perceive ; what
she is, I fear it is impossible to say. I know not how
it is, but in scrutinizing her strange model and singular
cast of spars, her huge size and overgrown suits of
canvas, her severely simple bow and antiquated stern,
there will occasionally flash across my mind a sensa
tion of familiar things, and there is always mixed up
with such indistinct shadows of recollection an un
accountable memory of old foreign chronicles and ages

long ago.

* * * *

I have been looking at the timbers of the ship. She
is built of a material to which I am a stranger. There
is a peculiar character about the wood which strikes
me as rendering it unfit for the purpose to which it has
been applied. I mean its extreme porousness, considered
independently of the worm-eaten condition which is a
consequence of navigation in these seas, and apart from
the rottenness attendant upon age. It will appear per
haps an observation somewhat over-curious, but this
wood would have every characteristic of Spanish oak,
if Spanish oak were distended by any unnatural means.

In reading the above sentence, a curious apothegm
of an old weather-beaten Dutch navigator comes full
upon my recollection. "It is as sure," he was wont to

MS. FOUND IX A BOTTLE. 225

say, when any doubt was entertained of his veracity,
" as sure as there is a sea where the ship itself will grow
in bulk like the living body of the seaman." * * * *

About an hour ago, I made bold to thrust myself
among a group of the crew. They paid me no manner
of attention, and, although I stood in the very midst of
them all, seemed utterly unconscious of my presence.
Like the one I had first seen in the hold, they all bore
about them the marks of a hoary old age. Their knees
trembled with infirmity ; their shoulders were bent
double with decrepitude ; their shriveled skins rattled
in the wrind ; their voices were low, tremulous, and
broken, their eyes glistened with the rheum of years ;
and their gray hairs streamed terribly in the tempest.
Around them, on every part of the deck, lay scattered
mathematical instruments of the most quaint and obso
lete construction.

I mentioned some time ago the bending of a studding-
sail. From that period, the ship, being thrown dead off
the wind, has continued her terrific course due south, with
every rag of canvas packed upon her, from her trucks
to her lower studding-sail booms, and rolling every
moment her top-gallant yard-arms into the most appall
ing hell of water which it can enter into the mind
of man to imagine. I have just left the deck, where I
find it impossible to maintain a footing, although the
crew seem to experience little inconvenience. It appears
to me a miracle of miracles that our enormous bulk is
not swallowed up at once and forever. AVe are surely
doomed to hover continually upon the brink of eternity,
without taking a final plunge into the abyss. From
billows a thousand times more stupendous than any I
have even seen, we glide away with the facility of the
arrowy sea-gull ; and the colossal waters rear their heads

Vol. I.— 15.

228 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

above us like demons of the deep, but like demons
confined to simple threats, and forbidden to destroy.
I am led to attribute these frequent escapes to the only
natural cause which can account for such effect. I
must suppose the ship to be within the influence of
some strong current, or impetuous under-tow. * * *
I have seen the captain face to face, and in his own
cabin — but, as I expected, he paid me no attention.
Although in his appearance there is, to a casual ob
server, nothing which might bespeak him more or less
than man, still, a feeling of irrepressible reverence and
awe mingled with the sensation of wonder with which I
regarded him. In stature, he is nearly my own height ;
that is, about five feet eight inches. He is of a well-knit
and compact frame of body, neither robust nor remark
able otherwise. But it is the singularity of the expres
sion which reigns upon the face — it is the intense, the
wonderful, the thrilling evidence of old age, so utter, so
extreme, which excites within my spirit a sense — a senti
ment ineffable. His forehead, although little wrinkled,
seems to bear upon it the stamp of a myriad of years.
His gray hairs are records of the past, and his grayer
eyes are sibyls of the future. The cabin floor was
thickly strewn with strange, iron-clasped folios, and
mouldering instruments of science, and obsolete long-
forgotten charts. His head was bowed down upon his
hands, and he pored with a fiery unquiet eye over a
paper which I took to be a commission, and which, at
all events, bore the signature of a monarch. He mut
tered to himself — as did the first seaman whom I saw
in the hold — some low peevish syllables of a foreign
tongue; and although the speaker was close at my
elbow, his voice seemed to reach my ears from the
distance of a mile. *****

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE. 227

The ship and all in it are imbued with the spirit of
Eld. The crew glide to and fro like the ghosts of
buried centuries ; their eyes have an eager and uneasy
meaning ; and when their figures fall athwart my path
in the wild glare of the battle-lanterns, I feel as I have
never felt before, although I have been all my life a
dealer in antiquities, and have imbibed the shadows of
fallen columns at Balbec, and Tadmor, and Persepolis,
until my very soul has become a ruin.

AVhen I look around me I feel ashamed of my former
apprehensions. If I trembled at the blast which has
hitherto attended us, shall I not stand aghast at a war
ring of wind and ocean, to convey any idea of which
the words tornado and simoon are trivial and ineffec
tive ? All in the immediate vicinity of the ship is the
blackness of eternal night, and a chaos of foamless
water ; but, about a league on either side of us, may be
seen, indistinctly and at intervals, stupendous ramparts
of ice towering away into the desolate sky, and looking
like the walls of the universe. * *

As I imagined, the ship proves to be in a current —
if that appellation can properly be given to a tide
which howling and shrieking by the white ice, thunders
on to the southward with a velocity like the headlong
dashing of a cataract.

To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume,
utterly impossible ; yet a curiosity to penetrate the
mysteries of these awful regions predominates even over
my despair, and will reconcile me to the most hideous
aspect of death. It is evident that we are hurrying
onwards to some exciting knowledge — some never-to-be-
imparted secret, whose attainment is destruction. Per
haps this current leads us to the southern pole itself.

228 MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE.

It must be confessed that a supposition apparently so
wild has every probability in its favor.

# # # #

The crew pace the deck with unquiet and tremulous
step ; but there is upon their countenances an expres
sion more of the eagernes of hope than of the apathy
of despair.

In the meantime the wind is still in our poop, and as
we carry a crowd of canvas the ship is at times lifted
bodily from out the sea! Oh, horror upon horror! —
the ice opens suddenly to the right, and to the left, and
we are whirling dizzily, in immense concentric circles,
round and round the borders of a gigantic amphitheatre,
the summit of whose walls is lost in the darkness and
the distance, But little time will be left me to ponder
upon my destiny ! The circles rapidly grow small — we
are plunging madly within the grasp of the whirlpool —
and amid a roaring, and bellowing and thundering of
ocean and of tempest, the ship is quivering — O God !
and going down !

Note.— The " MS. Found in a Bottle " was originally published in 1831,
and it was not until many years afterwards that I became acquainted
with the maps of Mercator, in which the ocean is represented as rushing,
by four mouths, into the (northern) Polar Gulf, to be absorbed into the
bowels of the earth ; the Pole itself being represented by a black rock
towering to a prodigious height.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as our ways ; nor
are the models that we frame any way commensurate to the vast ness,
profundity, and unsearchableuess of His works, which have a depth in them
greater than the well of Democritus. — JOSEPH GLANVILL.

We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag.
For some minutes the old man seemed too much ex
hausted to speak.

"Not long ago," said he at length, "and I could
have guided you on this route as well as the youngest
of my sons ; but about three years past, there happened
to me an event such as never happened before to mortal
man — or at least such as no man ever survived to tell of
— and the six hours of deadly terror which I then
endured have broken me up body and soul. You sup
pose me a very old man — but I am not. It took less than
a single day to change these hairs from a jetty black to
white, to weaken my limbs, and to unstring my nerves,
so that I tremble at the least exertion, and am frightened
at a shadow. Do you know I can scarcely look over
this little cliff without getting giddy ? "

The " little cliff," upon whose edge he had so care
lessly thrown himself down to rest that the weightier
portion of his body hung over it, Avhile he was only
kept from falling by the tenure of his elbow on its
extreme and slippery edge — this " little cliff" arose, a
sheer unobstructed precipice of black shining rock,
some fifteen or sixteen hundred feet from the world of
(229)

230 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

crags beneath us. Nothing would have tempted me to
within half a dozen yards of its brink. In truth so
deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my com
panion, that I fell at full length upon the ground, clung
to the shrubs around me, and dared not even glance
upward at the sky — while I struggled in vain to divest
myself of the idea that the very foundations of the
mountain were in danger from the fury of the winds.
It was long before I could reason myself into sufficient
courage to sit up and look out into the distance.

" You must get over these fancies," said the guide,
" for I have brought you here that you might have the
best possible view of the scene of that event I mentioned
— and to tell you the whole story with the spot just
under your eye."

" We are now," he continued in that particularizing
manner which distinguished him — " we are now close
upon the Norwegian coast — in the sixty-eighth degree
of latitude — in the great province of Nordland — and in
the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain upon
whose top we sit is Helseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise
yourself up a little higher — hold on to the grass if you
feel giddy — so — and look out, beyond the belt of vapor
beneath us into the sea."

I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean,
whose waters wore so inky a hue as to bring at once to
my mind the Nubian geographer's account of the Mare
Tenebrarum. A panorama more deplorably desolate
no human imagination can conceive. To the right and
left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched,
like ramparts of the world, lines of horribly black and
beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was but the
more forcibly illustrated by the surf which reared high
up against it, its white and ghastly crest, howling and

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 231

shrieking forever. Just opposite the promontory upon
whose apex we were placed, and at a distance of some
five or six miles out at sea, there was visible a small,
bleak-looking island ; or, more properly, its position was
discernible through the wilderness of surge in which
it was enveloped. About two miles nearer the land
arose another of smaller size, hideously craggy and
barren, and encompassed at various intervals by a clus
ter of dark rocks.

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between
the more distant island and the shore, had something
very unusual about it. Although at the time so strong
a gale wras blowing landward that a brig in the remote
offing lay to under a double-reefed try-sail, and con
stantly plunged her whole hull out of sight, still there
was here nothing like a regular swell, but only a short,
quick, angry cross dashing of water in every direction
— as well in the teeth of the wrind as otherwise. Of
foam there was little except in the immediate vicinity
of the rocks.

" The island in the distance," resumed the old man,
" is called by the Norwegians Vurrgh. The one mid
way is Moskoe. That a mile to the northward is
Ambaarcn. Yonder are Islesen, Hotholm, Keildhelm,
Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off— between Moskoe
and Vurrgh — are Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and
Stockholm. These are the true names of the places —
but why it has been thought necessary to name them
at all, is more than either you or I can understand.
Do you hear anything ? Do you see any change in the
water?"

We had now been about ten minutes upon the top
of Helseggen, to which we had ascended from the
interior of Lofoden, so that we had caught no glimpse

232 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

of the sea until it had burst upon us from the summit.
As the old man spoke, I became aware of a loud and
gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast
herd of buffaloes upon an American prairie ; and at the
same moment I perceived that what seamen term the
chopping character of the ocean beneath us, was rapidly
changing into a current which set to the eastward.
Even while I gazed this current acquired a monstrous
velocity. Each moment added to its speed — to its
headlong impetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea
as far as Vurrgh \vas lashed into ungovernable fury ;
but it was between Moskoe and the coast that the main
uproar held its sway. Here the vast bed of the waters,
seamed and scarred into a thousand conflicting channels,
burst suddenly into frenzied convulsion — heaving, boil
ing, hissing — gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vor
tices, and all whirling and plunging on to the eastward
with a rapidity which wrater never elsewhere assumes
except in precipitous descents.

In a few moments more, there came over the scene
another radical alteration. The general surface grew
somewhat more smooth, and the whirlpools one by one
disappeared, while prodigious streaks of foam became
apparent where none had been seen before. These
streaks, at length, spreading out to a great distance,
and entering into combination, took unto themselves
the gyratory motion of the subsided vortices, and seemed
to form the germ of another more vast. Suddenly —
very suddenly — this assumed a distinct and definite
existence in a circle of more than a mile in diameter.
The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt
of gleaming spray ; but no particle of this slipped into
the mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far as
the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 233

jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an
angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round
and round with a swaying and sweltering motion, and
sending forth to the winds an appalling voice, half-shriek,
half-roar, such as not even the mighty cataract of
Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to heaven.

The mountain trembled to its very base, and the
rock rocked. I threwr myself upon my face, and
clung to the scant herbage in an excess of nervous
agitation.

" This," said I at length, to the old man — " this can
be nothing else than the great whirlpool of the Mael
strom."

" So it is sometimes termed," said he. " We Nor
wegians call it the Moskoe-strom, from the island of
Moskoe in the midway."

The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means
prepared me for what I saw. That of Jonas Ramus,
which is perhaps the most circumstantial of any, cannot
impart the faintest conception either of the magnificence,
or of the horror of the scene — or of the wild bewildering
sense of the novel which confounds the beholder. I am
not sure from what point of view the writer in question
surveyed it, nor at what time ; but it could neither have
been from the summit of Helseggen, nor during a storm.
There are some passages of his description, nevertheless,
which may be quoted for their details, although their
effect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression
of the spectacle.

" Between Lofoden and Moskoe," he says, " the depth
of the water is between thirty-five and forty fathoms ;
but on the other side, toward Ver (Vurrgh), this
depth decreases so as not to afford a convenient pas
sage for a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the

234 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

rocks, which happens even in the calmest weather.
When it is flood, the stream runs up the country
between Lofoden and Moskoe with a boisterous
rapidity, but the roar of its impetuous ebb to the sea
is scarce equaled by the loudest and most dreadful
cataracts — the noise being heard several leagues off,
and the vortices or pits are of such an extent and
depth, that if a ship comes within its attraction it is
inevitably absorbed and carried down to the bottom
and there beat to pieces against the rocks, and when
the water relaxes the fragments thereof are thrown up
again. But these intervals of tranquillity are only at
the turn of the ebb and flood, and in calm weather,
and last but a quarter of an hour, its violence gradually
returning. When the stream is most boisterous, and
its fury heightened by a storm, it is dangerous to come
within a Norway mile of it. Boats, yachts, and ships
have been carried away by not guarding against it
before they were within its reach. It likewise happens
frequently that whales come too near the stream, and
are overpowered by its violence, and then it is impos
sible to describe their howlings and bellowings in their
fruitless struggles to disengage themselves. A bear
once, attempting to swim from Lofoden to Moskoe,
was caught by the stream and borne down, wThile he
roared terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Large
stocks of firs and pine trees, after being absorbed by the
current, rise again broken and torn to such a degree
as if bristles grew upon them. This plainly shows the
bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which they
are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by
the flux and reflux of the sea — it being constantly high
and low water every six hours. In the year 1645,
early in the morning of Sexagesima Sunday, it raged

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 235

with such noise and impetuosity that the very stones of
the houses on the coast fell to the ground."

In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see
how this could have been ascertained at all in the
immediate vicinity of the vortex. The " forty fathoms "
must have reference only to portions of the channel close
upon the shore either of Moskoe or Lofoden. The
depth in the centre of the Moskoe-strom must be im
measurably greater ; and no better proof of this fact is
necessary than can be obtained from even the sidelong
glance into the abyss of the whirl which may be had
from the highest crag of Helseggen. Looking down
from this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below,
I could not help smiling at the simplicity with which
the honest Jonas Ramus records, as a matter difficult
of belief, the anecdotes of the whales and the bears ; for
it appeared to me, in fact, a self-evident thing that the
largest ship of the line in existence coming within the
influence of that deadly attraction could resist it as little
as a feather the hurricane, and must disappear bodily
and at once.

The attempts to account for the phenomenon — some
of which I remember seemed to me sufficiently plausible
in perusal — now wore a very different and unsatisfac
tory aspect. The idea generally received is that this
as well as three smaller vortices among the Ferroe
Islands, " have no other cause than the collision of
waves rising and falling at flux and reflux against a
ridge of rocks and shelves, which confines the wrater so
that it precipitates itself like a cataract ; and thus the
higher the flood rises the deeper must the fall be, and
the natural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex,
the prodigious suction of which is sufficiently known
by lesser experiments." — These are the wrords of the

236 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

Encyclopaedia Britannica. Kircher and others imagine
that in the centre of the channel of the Maelstrom is an
abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in some very
remote part — the Gulf of Bothnia being somewhat
decidedly named in one instance. This opinion, idle in
itself, was the one to which, as I gazed, my imagination
most readily assented ; and mentioning it to the guide, I
was rather surprised to hear him say that, although it
was the view almost universally entertained of the sub
ject by the Norwegians, it nevertheless was not his own.
As to the former notion he confessed his inability to com
prehend it ; and here I agreed with him — for however
conclusive on paper, it becomes altogether unintelligible,
and even absurd, amid the thunder of the abyss.

" You have had a good look at the whirl now," said
the old man, " and if you will creep round this crag so
as to get in its lee, and deaden the roar of the water, I
will tell you a story that will convince you I ought to
know something of the Moskoe-strom."

I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded.

" Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-
rigged smack of about seventy tons burthen, with
which we were in the habit of fishing among the islands
beyond Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all violent
eddies at sea there is good fishing at proper opportuni
ties if one has only the courage to attempt it, but among
the whole of the Lofoden coastmen, we three were the
only ones who made a regular business of going out to
the islands as I tell you. The usual grounds are a
great way lower down to the southward. There fish
can be got at all hours, without much risk, and there
fore these places are preferred. The choice spots over
here among the rocks, however, not only yield the
finest variety, but in far greater abundance, so that we

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 237

often got in a single day what the more timid of the
craft could not scrape together in a week. In fact, we
made it a matter of desperate speculation — the risk of
life standing instead of labor, and courage answering
for capital.

" We kept the smack in a cove about five miles
higher up the coast than this ; and it was our practice,
in fine weather, to take advantage of the fifteen
minutes' slack to push across the main channel of the
Moskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop down
upon anchorage somewhere near Otterholm, or Sand-
flesen, where the eddies are not so violent as elsewhere.
Here we used to remain until nearly time for slack-
water again, when we weighed and made for home.
We never set out upon this expedition without a
steady side wind for going and coming— one that we
felt sure would not fail us before our return — and we
seldom made a miscalculation upon this point. Twice
during six years we were forced to stay all night at
anchor on account of a dead calm, which is a rare
thing indeed, just about here ; and once we had to
remain on the grounds nearly a week, starving to
death, owing to a gale which blew up shortly after
our arrival, and made the channel too boisterous to be
thought of. Upon this occasion we should have been
driven out to sea in spite of everything (for the whirl
pools threw us round and round so violently that at
length we fouled our anchor and dragged it) if it had
not been that we drifted into one of the innumerable
cross currents — here to-day and gone to-morrow — which
drove us under the lee of Flimen, where by good luck,
we brought up.

" I could not tell you the twentieth part of the diffi
culties we encountered 'on the grounds' — it is a bad

238 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

spot to be in, even in good weather — but we made
shift always to run the gauntlet of the Moskoe-strom
itself without accident : although at times my heart has
been in my mouth when we happened to be a minute
or so behind or before the slack. The wind sometimes
was not as strong as we thought it at starting, and
then we made rather less way than we could wish, while
the current rendered the smack unmanageable. My
eldest brother had a son eighteen years old, and I had
two stout boys of my own. These would have been
of great assistance at such times in using the sweeps, as
well as afterwards in fishing, but somehow, although
we ran the risk ourselves, we had not the heart to
let the young ones get into the danger — for, after all is
said and done, it was a horrible danger, and that is the
truth.

" It is now within a few days of three years since
what I am going to tell you occurred. It was on the
tenth day of July, 18 — , a day which the people of this
part of the world will never forget — for it was one in
which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came
out of the heavens ; and yet all the morning, and indeed
until late in the afternoon, there was a gentle and steady
breeze from the southwest, while the sun shone brightly
so that the oldest seaman among us could not have
foreseen what was to follow.

" The three of us — my two brothers and myself — had
crossed over to the islands about two o'clock p. m., and
had soon nearly loaded the smack with fine fish, which,
we all remarked, were more plentiful that day than we
had ever known them. It was just seven by my watch
when we weighed and started for home, so as to make
the worst of the Strom at slackwater, which we knew
would be at eight.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 239

"We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard
quarter, and for some time spanked along at a great
rate, never dreaming of danger, for indeed we saw not
the slightest reason to apprehend it. All at once we
were taken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen.
This wras most unusual — something that had never
happened to us before — and I began to feel a little
uneasy without exactly knowing why. We put the
boat on the wind, but could make no headway at all
for the eddies, and I was put upon the point of pro
posing to return to the anchorage, when, looking astern,
we saw the whole horizon covered with a singular
copper-colored cloud that rose with the most amazing
velocity.

" In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off
fell away, and we were dead becalmed, drifting about
in every direction. This state of things, however, did
not last long enough to give us time to think about it.
In less than a minute the storm was upon us — in less
than two the sky was entirely overcast — and what with
this and the driving spray it became suddenly so dark
that we could not see each other in the smack.

" Such a hurricane as then blewr it is folly to attempt
describing. The oldest seaman in Norway never experi
enced anything like it. We had let our sails go by the
run before it cleverly took us ; but, at the first puff,
both our masts went by the board as if they had been
sawed off — the mainmast taking with it my youngest
brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety.

" Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that
ever sat upon water. It had a complete flush deck,
with only a small hatch near the bow, and this hatch
it had always been our custom to batten down when
about to cross the Strom by way of precaution against

240 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

the chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should
have foundered at once — for we lay entirely buried for
some moments. How my elder brother escaped destruc
tion I cannot say, for I never had an opportunity of
ascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had let the fore
sail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet
against the narrow gunwale of the bow, and with my
hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of the fore-mast.
It was mere instinct that prompted me to do this —
which was undoubtedly the very best thing I could have
done — for I was too much flurried to think.

" For some moments we were completely deluged, as
I say, and all this time I held my breath, and clung to
the bolt. When I could stand it no longer I raised
myself upon my knees, still keeping hold with my
hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little
boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming
out of the water, and thus rid herself in some measure
of the seas. I was now trying to get the better of the
stupor that had come over me, and to collect my senses
so as to see what was to be done, when I felt somebody
grasp my arm. It was my elder brother, and my
heart leaped for joy, for I had made sure that he was
overboard — but the next moment all this joy was turned
into horror — for he put his mouth close to my ear, and
screamed out the word ' Moskoe-strom ! '

"No one ever wrill know what my feelings were at
that moment. I shook from head to foot, as if I had
had the most violent fit of the ague. I knew what he
meant by that one word well enough — I knew what he
wished to «iake me understand. With the wind that
now drove us on we were bound for the whirl of the
Strom, and nothing could save us !

" You perceive that in crossing the Strom channel,

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 241

we always went a long way up above the whirl, even
in the calmest weather, and then had to wait and watch
carefully for the slack — but now we were driving right
upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane as this !
' To be sure,' I thought ' we shall get there just about
the slack — there is some little hope in that ' — but in the
next moment I cursed myself for being so great a
fool as to dream of hope at all. I knew very well
that we were doomed had we been ten times a ninety-
gun ship.

" By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent
itself, or perhaps we did not feel it so much as we
scudded before it, but at all events the seas, which at
first had been kept down by the wind and lay flat and
frothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A
singular change, too, had come over the heavens.
Around in every direction it was still as black as pitch,
but nearly overhead there burst out, all at once, a
circular rift of clear sky — as clear as I ever saw, and
of a deep bright blue — and through it there blazed
forth the full moon with a lustre that I never before
knew her to wear. She lit up everything about us
with the greatest distinctness — but O God, what a
scene it was to light up !

" I now made one or two attempts to speak to my
brother — but, in some manner which I could not
understand, the din had so increased that I could not
make him hear a single word, although I screamed at
the top of my voice in his ear. Presently he shook his
head, looking as pale as death, and held up one of his
fingers as if to say ' listen ! '

''At first I could not make out what he meant — but
soon a hideous thought flashed upon me. I dragged
my watch from its fob. It was not going. I glanced

Vol. I.-16.

242 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

at its face by the moonlight, and then burst into tears
as I flung it far away into the ocean. It had run down
at seven o'clock! We were behind the time of the slack,
and the whirl of the Strom was in full fury !

" When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and
not deep laden, the waves in a strong gale, when she is
going large, seem always to slip from beneath her —
which appears very strange to a landsman — and this is
what is called riding, in sea-phrase. Well, so far we
had ridden the swells very cleverly, but presently a
gigantic sea happened to take us right under the
counter, and bore us with it as it rose — up — up — as if
into the sky. I would not have believed that any wave
could rise so high. And then down we came with a
sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick
and dizzy, as if I was falling from some lofty moun
tain-top in a dream. But while we were up I had
thrown a quick glance around — and that one glance
was all sufficient. I saw our exact position in an in
stant. The Moskoe-strom whirlpool was about a quar
ter of a mile dead ahead — but no more like the every
day Moskoe-strom, than the whirl as you now see it is
like a mill-race. If I had not known where we were,
and what we had to expect, I should not have recog
nized the place at all. As it was, I involuntarily closed
my eyes in horror. The lids clenched themselves
together as if in a spasm.

" It could not have been more than two minutes
afterward until we suddenly felt the waves subside,
and were enveloped in foam. The boat made a sharp
half turn to larboard, and then shot off in its new
direction like a thunderbolt. At the same moment
the roaring noise of the wTater was completely drowned
in a kind of shrill shriek — such a sound as you might

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 243

imagine given out by the waste pipes of many thousand
steam vessels letting off their steam altogether. We
were now in the belt of surf that always surrounds the
whirl ; and I thought of course that another moment
would plunge us into the abyss — down which we could
only see indistinctly on account of the amazing velocity
with which we were borne along. The boat did not
seem to sink into the water at all, but to skim like an
air-bubble upon the surface of the surge. Her starboard
side was next the whirl, and on the larboard arose the
world of ocean we had left. It stood like a huge writh
ing wall between us and the horizon.

" It may appear strange, but now, when we were in
the very jaws of the gulf, I felt more composed than
when we were only approaching it. Having made up
my mind to hope no more, I got rid of a great deal of
that terror which unmanned me at first. I suppose it
was despair that strung my nerves.

" It may look like boasting — but what I tell you is
truth — I began to reflect how magnificent a thing it was
to die in such a manner, and how foolish it was in me to
think of so paltry a consideration as my own individual
life in view of so wonderful a manifestation of God's
power. I do believe that I blushed with shame when
this idea crossed my mind. After a little while I became
possessed with the keenest curiosity about the whirl
itself. I positively felt a uish to explore its depths,
even at the sacrifice I was going to make ; and my
principal grief was that I should never be able to tell
my old companions on shore about the mysteries I
should see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to
occupy a man's mind in such extremity, and I have often
thought since that the revolutions of the boat around
the pool might have rendered me a little light-headed.

244 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

" There was another circumstance which tended to
restore my self-possession, and this was the cessation of
the wind, which could not reach us in our present situa
tion — for, as you saw yourself, the belt of surf is con
siderably lower than the general bed of the ocean, and
this latter now towered above us, a high, black, moun
tainous ridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy
gale you can form no idea of the confusion of mind
occasioned by the wind and spray together. They
blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away all power
of action or reflection. But we were now, in a great
measure, rid of these annoyances — just as death-con
demned felons in prison are allowed petty indulgences,
forbidden them while their doom is yet uncertain.

" How often we made the circuit of the belt it is
impossible to say. We careered round and round for
perhaps an hour, flying rather than floating, getting
gradually more and more into the middle of the surge,
and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge.
All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My
brother was at the stern, holding on to a small empty
water-cask which had been securely lashed under the
coop of the counter, and was the only thing on deck
that had not been swept overboard when the gale first
took us. As we approached the brink of the pit he
let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, from
which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to
force my hands, as it was not large enough to afford
us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief than
when I saw him attempt this act — although I knew he
was a madman when he did it — a raving maniac
through sheer fright. I did not care, however, to
contest the point with him. I knew it could make no
difference whether either of us held on at all, so I let

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 245

him have the bolt, and went astern to the cask. This
there was no great difficulty in doing, for the smack flew
round steadily enough, and upon an even keel, only
swaying to and fro with the immense sweeps and
swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had I secured myself
in my new position when we gave a wild lurch to star
board, and rushed headlong into the abyss. I muttered
a hurried prayer to God, and thought all was over.

" As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent I had
instinctively tightened my hold upon the barrel, and
closed my eyes. For some seconds I dared not open
them, while I expected instant destruction, and won
dered that I was not already in my death struggles with
the water. But moment after moment elasped. I still
lived. The sense of falling had ceased ; and the motion
of the vessel seemed much as it had been before while
in the belt of foam, with the exception that she now lay
more along. I took courage, and looked once again upon
the scene.

" Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror,
and admiration with which I gazed about me. The
boat appeared to be hanging, as if by magic, midway
down, upon the interior surface of a funnel vast in
circumference, prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly
smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony but
for the bewildering rapidity with which they spun
around, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance they
shot forth, as the rays of the full moon, from that cir
cular rift amid the clouds which I have already de
scribed, streamed in a flood of golden glory along the
black walls, and far away down into the inmost recesses
of the abyss.

" At first I was too much confused to observe any
thing accurately. The general burst of terrific grandeur

246 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTEOM.

was all that I beheld. When I recovered myself a little,
however, my gaze fell instinctively downward. In this
direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed view from
the manner in which the smack hung on the inclined
surface of the pool. She was quite upon an even keel
— that is to say, her deck lay in a plane parallel with
that of the water — but this latter sloped at an angle of
more than fifty-five degrees, so that we seemed to be
lying upon our beam ends. I could not help observing,
nevertheless, that I had scarcely more difficulty in main
taining my hold and footing in this situation than if we
had been upon a dead level, and this, I suppose, was
owing to the speed at which we revolved.

The rays of the moon seemed to search the very
bottom of the profound gulf; but still I could make
out nothing distinctly, on account of a thick mist in
which everything there was enveloped, and over which
there hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and
tottering bridge which Mussulmans say is the only path
way between Time and Eternity. This mist or spray
was no doubt occasioned by the clashing of the great
walls of the funnel as they all met together at the
bottom, but the yell that went up to the heavens from
out of that mist I dare not attempt to describe.

" Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of
foam above, had carried us a great distance down the
slope, but our farther descent was by no means pro
portionate. Round and round we swept — not with any
uniform movement — but in dizzying swings and jerks,
that sent us sometimes only a few hundred yards —
sometimes nearly the complete circuit of the whirl.
Our progress downward at each revolution was slow but
very perceptible.

" Looking about me upon the wide waste of liquid

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 247

ebony on which we were thus borne, I perceived that
our boat was not the only object in the embrace of the
whirl. Both above and below us were visible fragments
of vessels, large masses of building timber and trunks of
trees, with many smaller articles, such as pieces of house
furniture, broken boxes, barrels and staves. I have
already described the unnatural curiosity which had
taken the place of my original terrors. It appeared to
grow upon me as I drew nearer and nearer to my
dreadful doom. I now began to watch, with a strange
interest, the numerous things that floated in our com
pany. I mud have been delirious, for I even sought
amusement in speculating upon the relative velocities of
their several descents toward the foam below. 'This
fir-tree,' I found myself at one time saying, ' will cer
tainly be the next thing that takes the awful plunge and
disappears,' — and then I was disappointed to find that
the wreck of a Dutch merchant ship overtook it and
went down before. At length, after making several
guesses of this nature, and being deceived in all, this
fact — the fact of my invariable miscalculation — set me
upon a train of reflection that made my limbs again
tremble, and my heart beat heavily once more.

" It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but
the dawn of a more exciting hope. This hope arose
partly from memory, and partly from present observa
tion. I called to mind the great variety of buoyant
matter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having
been absorbed and then thrown forth by the Moskoe-
strom. By far the greater number of the articles
were shattered in the most extraordinary way — so
chafed and roughened as to have the appearance of
being stuck full of splinters — but then I distinctly
recollected that there wrere some of them which were

248 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

not disfigured at all. Now I could not account for this
difference except by supposing that the roughened frag
ments were the only ones which had been completely
absorbed — that the others had entered the whirl at so
late a period of the tide, or, for some reason, had
descended so slowly after entering, that they did not
reach the bottom before the turn of the flood came, or of
the ebb, as the case might be. I conceived it possible,
in either instance, that they might thus be whirled up
again to the level of the ocean, without undergoing the
fate of those which had been drawn in more early, or
absorbed more rapidly. I made also, three important
observations. The first was that, as a general rule, the
larger the bodies were the more rapid their descent ; the
second, that, between two masses of equal extent, the
one spherical and the other of any other shape, the
superiority in speed of descent was with the sphere ; the
third, that, between two masses of equal size, the one
cylindrical and the other of any other shape, the cylinder
was absorbed the more slowly. Since my escape I have
had several conversations on this subject with an old
schoolmaster of the district, and it was from him that I
learned the use of the words 'cylinder' and 'sphere.'
He explained to me — although I have forgotten the
explanation — how what I observed was in fact the
natural consequence of the forms of the floating frag
ments, and showed me how it happened that a cylinder
swimming in a vortex offered more resistance to its
suction, and was drawn in with greater difficulty than an
equally bulky body of any form whatever.*

" There was one startling circumstance which went a
great way in enforcing these observations and rendering
me anxious to turn them to account, and this was that

*See Archimedes " De Incidentibus in Fluido."—tib. 2.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 249

at every revolution we passed something like a barrel, or
else the yard or the mast of a vessel, while many of these
things which had been on our level, when I first opened
my eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool were now
high up above us, and seemed to have moved but little
from their original station.

" I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash
myself securely to the water-cask upon which I now held,
to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw myself
with it into the water. I attracted my brother's atten
tion by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that came
near us, and did everything in my power to make him
understand what I was about to do. I thought at length
that he comprehended my design, but whether this was
the case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and
refused to move from his station by the ring-bolt. It
was impossible to reach him, the emergency admitted of
no delay, and so, with a bitter struggle, I resigned him
to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of the
lashings which secured it to the counter, and precipitated
myself with it into the sea without another moment's
hesitation.

" The result was precisely what I had hoped it might
be. As it is myself who now tell you this tale — as you
see that I did escape — and as you are already in posses
sion of the mode in which this escape was effected, and
must therefore anticipate all that I have further to say,
I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It might
have been an hour or thereabout after my quitting the
smack, when, having descended to a vast distance be
neath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapid
succession, and, bearing my loved brother with it,
plunged headlong at once and for ever into the chaos of
foam below. The barrel to which I was attached sunk

250 A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

very little farther than half the distance between the
bottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped over
board, before a great change took place in the character
of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast
funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyra
tions of the whirl grew gradually less and less violent.
By degrees the froth and the rainbow disappeared, and
the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly to uprise. The sky
was clear, the winds had gone down, and the full moon
was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself
on the surface of the ocean, in full view of the shores of
Lofoden, and above the spot where the pool of the
Moskoe-strom had been. It was the hour of the slack —
but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from the
effects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the
channel of the Strom, and in a few minutes wras hurried
down the coast into the ' grounds ' of the fishermen. A
boat picked me up, exhausted from fatigue and (now
that the danger was removed) speechless from the
memory of its horror. Those who drew me on board
were my old mates and daily companions, but they
knew me no more than they would have known a
traveler from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been
raven-black the day before, was as white as you see it
now. They say, too, that the whole expression of my
countenance had changed. I told them my story — they
did not believe it. I now tell it to you, and I can
scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the
merry fishermen of Lofoden."

THE BLACK CAT

THE BLACK CAT.

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 to-morrow
I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. My
immediate purpose is to place before the world plainly,
succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere house
hold 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
(251)

252 THE BLACK CAT.

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 or the in
tensity 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 wyas 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-mt.

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 favorite 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 intemper
ance — had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical
alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more

THE BLACK CAT. 253

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 suffi
cient 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 wray. 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.

I 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 penknife, 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.

254 THE BLACK CAT.

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 that I am that per-
verseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human
heart — one of the indivisible primary faculties or senti
ments which gave direction to the character of Man.
Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing

>a vile or silly action for no other reason than because
he knows he should notf 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 a 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

THE BLACK CAT. 255

thing were possible, even beyond the reach of the infi
nite 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 con
flagration. The destruction was complete. My entire
worldly wealth wras swallowed up, and I resigned myself
thenceforward 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 wyas given
with an accuracy truly marvelous. 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

256 THE BLACK CAT.

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 the loss of the animal, and to look about me
among the vile haunts which I now habitually fre
quented 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 look
ing 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 there
upon. 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

THE BLACK CAT. 257

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 favorite 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. 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, pre
venting 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

Vol. I.— 17.

258 THE BLACK CAT.

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 foot
steps writh 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 assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline.
It was now the representation of an object that I

THE BLACK CAT. 259

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 of death !

And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretched
ness of mere humanity. And a brute beast — whose
fellow I had contemptuously destroyed — a brute beast to
wrork 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 out
bursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned my
self, 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

260 THE BLACK CAT.

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 inter
ference into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew
my arm from her grasp and buried the axe m her brain.

/fehe fell dead upon the spot without a groan. \
-*This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forth
with and with entire deliberation to the task of conceal
ing 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 neighbors. 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 in 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 wrall it up in the cellar — as the

j 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 wralls 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 fireplace, 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

THE BLACK CAT. 261

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 wrent over the newT brick work. 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 last, then, my labor 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 writh 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 ; ay, 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

262 THE BLACK CAT.

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 what
ever. 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 fro. The
police were thoroughly satisfied, and prepared to depart.
\JThe 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 guilt
lessness.

" 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 con
structed 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 bra
vado, I rapped heavily writh a cane which I held in my
hand upon that very portion of the brick work behind
which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.

But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs
of the arch-fiend I^No sooner had the reverberation of

THE BLACK CAT. 263

ray 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, utterly anomalous and inhuman — a howl — a
wailing shriek, 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 !

THE ASSIGNATION.

Stay for me there ! I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale.

— Exequy on the death of his uife, by
Henry King, Bishop of Chichoster.

Ill-fated and mysterious man ! bewildered in the
brilliancy of thine own imagination, and fallen in the
flames of thine own youth ! Again in fancy I behold
thee ! Once more thy form hath risen before me ! —
not — oh not as thou art — in the cold valley and
shadow — but as thou shouldst be — squandering away
a life of magnificent meditation in that city of dim
visions, thine own Venice — which is a star-beloved
Elysium of the sea, and the wide windows of whose
Palladian palaces look down with a deep and bitter
meaning upon the secrets of her silent waters. Yes !
I repeat it — as thou shouldst be. There are surely
other worlds than this — other thoughts than the thoughts
of the multitude — other speculations than the specula
tions of the sophists. Who then shall call thy conduct
into question ? who blame thee for thy visionary hours,
or denounce these occupations as a wasting away of life,
which were but the overflowings of thine everlasting
energies ?

It was at Venice, beneath the covered archway there
called the Ponte di Sospiri, that I met for the third or
fourth time the person of whom I speak. It is with
(265)

266 THE ASSIGNATION.

a confused recollection that I bring to mind the
circumstances of that meeting. Yet I remember — ah !
how should I forget ? — the deep midnight, the Bridge of
Sighs, the beauty of woman, and the Genius of Romance,
that stalked up and down the narrow canal.

It was a night of unusual gloom. The great clock
of the Piazza had sounded the fifth hour of the Italian
evening. The square of the Campanile lay silent and
deserted, and the lights in the old Ducal Palace were
dying fast away. I was returning home from the
Piazetta by way of the Grand Canal. But as my
gondola arrived opposite the mouth of the canal San
Marco, a female voice from its recesses broke suddenly
upon the night in one wild, hysterical, and long-con
tinued shriek. Startled at the sound, I sprang upon
my feet ; while the gondolier, letting slip his single oar,
lost it in the pitchy darkness beyond a chance of
recovery, and we were consequently left to the guidance
of the current which here sets from the greater into the
smaller channel. Like some huge and sable-feathered
condor, we were slowly drifting down towards the Bridge
of Sighs, when a thousand flambeaux flashing from the
windows, and down the staircases of the Ducal Palace,
turned all at once that deep gloom into a livid and pre
ternatural day.

A child, slipping from the arms of its own mother
had fallen from an upper window of the lofty structure
into the deep and dim canal. The quiet waters had
closed placidly over their victim ; and although my
own gondola was the only one in sight, many a stout
swimmer, already in the stream, was seeking in vain
upon the surface the treasure which was to be found,
alas ! only within the abyss. Upon the broad black
marble flagstones at the entrance of the palace, and a

THE ASSIGNATION. 267

few steps above the water, stood a figure which none
who then saw can have ever since forgotten. It was the
Marchesa Aphrodite — the adoration of all Venice — the
gayest of the gay — the most lovely where all were
beautiful — but still the young wife of the old and in
triguing Mentoni, and the mother of that fair child, her
first and only one, who now, deep beneath the murky
water, was thinking in bitterness of heart upon her sweet
caresses, and exhausting its little life in struggles to
call upon her name

She stood alone. Her small, bare, and silvery feet
gleamed in the black marble beneath her. Her hair,
not as yet more than half loosened for the night from
its ball-room array, clustered amid a shower of diamonds
round and round her classical head, in curls like those
of the young Hyacinth. A snowy-white and gauze-
like drapery seemed to be nearly the sole covering to
her delicate form ; but the midsummer and midnight
air was hot, sullen and still, and no motion in the statue-
like form itself stirred even the folds of that raiment
of very vapor which hung around it as the heavy
marble hangs around the Niobe. Yet — strange to
say — her large lustrous eyes were not turned down
wards upon that grave wherein her brightest hope lay
buried — but riveted in a widely different direction !
The prison of the Old Republic is, I think, the state
liest building in all Venice ; but how could that lady
gaze so fixedly upon it, when beneath her lay stifling
her own child? Yon dark gloomy niche, too, yawns
right opposite her chamber window — what then could
there be in its shadows, in its architecture, in its
ivy-wreathed and solemn cornices — that the Marchesa
di Mentoni had not wondered at a thousand times
before ? Nonsense ! — Who does not remember, that

268 THE ASSIGNATION.

at such a time as this, the eye like a shattered mirror,
multiplies the images of its sorrow, and sees in innumer
able far-off places, the woe which is close at hand ? ^,

Many steps above the Marchesa, and within the arch
of the water-gate, stood in full dress, the Satyr-like
figure of Mentoni himself. He was occasionally occu
pied in thrumming a guitar, and seemed ennuye to the
very death, as at intervals he gave directions for the
recovery of his child. Stupefied and aghast, I had
myself no power to move from the upright position I
had assumed upon first hearing the shriek, and must
have presented to the eyes of the agitated group a
spectral and ominous appearance, as with pale counten
ance and rigid limbs I floated down among them in that
funeral gondola.

All efforts proved in vain. Many of the most ener
getic in the search were relaxing their exertions, and
yielding to a gloomy sorrow. There seemed but little
hope for the child (how much less then for the mother !)
but now, from the interior of that dark niche which
has been already mentioned as forming a part of the
Old Republican prison, and as fronting the lattice of
the Marchesa, a figure muffled in a cloak stepped out
within reach of the light, and, pausing a moment
upon the verge of the giddy descent, plunged headlong
into the canal. As in an instant afterwards he stood
with the still living and breathing child within his
grasp upon the marble flagstones by the side of the
Marchesa, his cloak heavy with the drenching water
became unfastened, and, falling in folds about his
feet, discovered to the wonder-stricken spectators the
graceful person of a very young man, with the sound
of whose name the greater part of Europe was then
ringing.

THE ASSIGNATION. 269

No word spoke the deliverer. But the Marchesa !
She will now receive her child — she will press it to her
heart — she will cling to its little form, and smother it
with her caresses. Alas ! another's arms have taken it
from the stranger — another's arms have taken it away,
and borne it afar off, unnoticed, into the palace ! And
the Marchesa ! Her lip — her beautiful lip trembles :
tears are gathering in her eyes — those eyes which,
like Pliny's acanthus, are " soft and almost liquid."
Yes ! tears are gathering in those eyes — and see ! the
entire woman thrills throughout the soul, and the statue
has started into life ! The pallor of the marble coun
tenance, the swelling of the marble bosom, the very
purity of the marble feet, we behold suddenly flushed
over with a tide of ungovernable crimson ; and a
slight shudder quivers about her delicate frame, as a
gentle air at Napoli about the rich silver lilies in the
grass.

Why should that lady blush? To this demand
there is no answer — except that having left, in the
eager haste and terror of a mother's heart, the privacy
of her own boudoir, she has neglected to enthrall her
tiny feet in their slippers, and utterly forgotten to
throw over her Venetian shoulders that drapery which
is their due. What other possible reason could there
have been for her so blushing ? — for the glance of those
wild appealing eyes? for the unusual tumult of that
throbbing bosom ? — for the convulsive pressure of that
trembling hand ? — that hand which fell, as Mentoni
turned into the palace, accidentally, upon the hand
of the stranger. What reason could there have been
for the low — the singularly low tone of those unmean
ing words which the lady uttered hurriedly in bidding
him adieu ? " Thou hast conquered, " she said, or the

270 THE ASSIGNATION.

murmurs of the water deceived me ; " thou hast con
quered — one hour after sunrise — we shall meet — so let
it be ! "

***** *

The tumult had subsided, the lights had died away
within the palace, and the stranger whom I now recog
nized stood alone upon the flags. He shook with incon
ceivable agitation, and his eye glanced around in search
of a gondola. I could not do less than offer him the
service of my own ; and he accepted the civility. Hav
ing obtained an oar at the water-gate, we proceeded
together to his residence, while he rapidly recovered his
self-possession, and spoke of our former slight acquaint
ance in terms of great apparent cordiality.

There are some subjects upon which I take pleasure
in being minute. The person of the stranger — let me
call him by this title, who to all the world was still a
stranger — the person of a stranger is one of these
subjects. In height he might have been below rather
than above the medium size: although there were
moments of intense passion when his frame actually
expanded and belied the assertion. The light, almost
slender symmetry of his figure, promised more of that
ready activity which he evinced at the Bridge of Sighs,
than of that Herculean strength which he has been
known to wield without an effort, upon occasions of
more dangerous emergency. With the mouth and chin
of a deity— singular, wild, full, liquid eyes, whose shadows
varied from pure hazel to intense and brilliant jet —
and a profusion of curling black hair, from which a
forehead of unusual breadth gleamed forth at intervals
all light and ivory — his were features than which I have
seen none more classically regular, except, perhaps, the
marble ones of the Emperor Commodus. Yet his

THE ASSIGNATION. 271

countenance was, nevertheless, one of those which all
men have seen at some period of their lives, and have
never afterwards seen again. It had no peculiar — it
had no settled predominant expression to be fastened
upon the memory ; a countenance seen and instantly
forgotten — but forgotten with a vague and never-ceasing
desire of recalling it to mind. Not that the spirit of
each rapid passion failed, at any time, to throw its own
distinct image upon the mirror of that face — but that
the mirror, mirror-like, retained no vestige of the passion
when the passion had departed.

Upon leaving him on the night of our adventure, he
solicited me, in what I thought an urgent manner, to
call upon him very early the next morning. Shortly
after sunrise I found myself accordingly at his Palazzo,
one of those huge structures of gloomy, yet fantastic
pomp, which tower above the waters of the grand Canal
in the vicinity of the Rialto. I was shown up a broad
winding staircase of mosaics into an apartment whose
unparalleled splendor burst through the opening door
with an actual glare, making me blind and dizzy with
luxuriousness.

I knew my acquaintance to be wealthy. Report had
spoken of his possessions in terms which I had even
ventured to call terms of ridiculous exaggeration. But
as I gazed about me, I could not bring myself to believe
that the wealth of any subject in Europe could have
supplied the princely magnificence which burned and
blazed around.

Although, as I say, the sun had arisen, yet the room
was still brilliantly lighted up. I judge from this cir
cumstance, as well as from an air of exhaustion in the
countenance of my friend, that he had not retired to
bed during the whole of the preceding night. In the

272 THE ASSIGNATION.

architecture and embellishments of the chamber, the
evident design had been to dazzle and astound. Little
attention had been paid to the decora of what is techni
cally called keeping, or to the proprieties of nationality.
The eye wandered from object to object, and rested upon
none — neither the grotesques of the Greek painters, nor
the sculptures of the best Italian days, nor the huge
carvings of untutored Egypt. Rich draperies in every
part of the room trembled to the vibration of low,
melancholy music, whose origin was not to be discovered.
The senses were oppressed by mingled and conflicting
perfumes, reeking up from strange convolute censers,
together with multitudinous flaring and flickering
tongues of emerald and violet fire. The rays of the
newly risen sun poured in upon the whole, through
windows, formed each of a single pane of crimson-tinted
glass. Glancing to and fro, in a thousand reflections,
from curtains which rolled from their cornices like
cataracts of molten silver, the beams of natural glory
mingled at length fitfully with the artificial light, and
lay weltering in subdued masses upon a carpet of rich,
liquid-looking cloth of Chili gold.

"Ha! ha! ha! — ha! ha! ha!" — laughed the pro
prietor, motioning me to a seat as I entered the room,
and throwing himself back at full length upon an otto
man. " I see," said he, perceiving that I could not
immediately reconcile myself to the bienseance of so
singular a welcome — " I see you are astonished at my
apartment — at my statues — my pictures — my origi
nality of conception in architecture and upholstery !
absolutely drunk, eh, with my magnificence? But
pardon me, my dear sir (here his tone of voice dropped
to the very spirit of cordiality), pardon me for my un
charitable laughter. You appeared so utterly astonished.

THE ASSIGNATION. 273

Besides, some things are so completely ludicrous that a
man must laugh or die. To die laughing must be the
most glorious of all glorious deaths ! Sir Thomas
More — a very fine man was Sir Thomas More — Sir
Thomas More died laughing, you remember. Also
in the Absurdities of Ravisius Textor there is a long
list of characters who came to the same magnificent
end. Do you know, however," continued he, musingly,
" that at Sparta (which is now Palseochori), at Sparta,
I say, to the west of the citadel, among a chaos of
scarcely visible ruins, is a kind of socle upon which are
still legible the letters AAHM. They are undoubtedly
part of rEAAHMA. Now, at Sparta, were a thou
sand temples and shrines to a thousand different divini
ties. How exceedingly strange that the altar of
Laughter should have survived all the others ! But
in the present instance," he resumed, with a singular
alteration of voice and manner, " I have no right to
be merry at your expense. You might well have been
amazed. Europe cannot produce anything so fine as
this my little regal cabinet. My other apartments are
by no means of the same order — mere ultras of fashion
able insipidity. This is better than fashion — is it not ?
Yet this has but to be seen to become the rage — that
is with those who could afford it at the cost of their
entire patrimony. I have guarded, however, against
any such profanation. With one exception you are
the only human being, besides myself and my valet,
who has been admitted within the mysteries of these
imperial precincts since they have been bedizened as
you see ! "

I bowed in acknowledgment — for the overpowering
sense of splendor, and perfume, and music, together

Vol. I.— 18.

274 THE ASSIGNATION.

with the unexpected eccentricity of his address and
manner, prevented me from expressing in words my
appreciation of what I might have construed into a
compliment.

" Here," he resumed, arising and leaning on my arm
as he sauntered around the apartment, " here are paint
ings from the Greeks to Cimabue, and from Cimabue to
the present hour. Many are chosen, as you see, with
little deference to the opinions of Virtu. They are all,
however, fitting tapestry for a chamber such as this.
Here, too, are some chefs d'ceuvre of the unknown
great ; and here unfinished designs by men celebrated
in their day, whose very names the perspicacity of the
academies has left to silence and to me. What think
you," said he, turning abruptly as he spoke — " what
think you of this Madonna della Pieta ? "

" It is Guide's own," I said, with all the enthusiasm
of my nature, for I had been poring intently over its
surpassing loveliness. " It is Guide's own ! — how could
you have obtained it ? She is undoubtedly in painting
what the Venus is in sculpture."

"Ha!" said he thoughtfully, "the Venus— the
beautiful Venus ? — the Venus of the Medici ? — she of
the diminutive head and the gilded hair ? Part of the
left arm (here his voice dropped so as to be heard with
difficulty) and all the right are restorations ; and in the
coquetry of that right arm lies, I think, the quintessence
of all affectation. Give me the Canova ! The Apollo,
too, is a copy — there can be no doubt of it — blind fool
that I am who cannot behold the boasted inspiration of
the Apollo ! I cannot help — pity me ! — I cannot help
preferring the Antinous. Was it not Socrates who said
that the statuary found his statue in the block of

THE ASSIGNATION. 275

marble? Then Michael Angelo was by no means
original in his couplet —

' Non ha 1'ottimo artista alcun concetto
Che un marmo solo in se non circonscriva.' "

It has been or should be remarked that in the manner
of the true gentleman we are always aware of a differ
ence from the bearing of the vulgar, without being at
once precisely able to determine in what such difference
consists. Allowing the remark to have applied in its full
force to the outward demeanor of my acquaintance, I
felt it on that eventful morning still more fully appli
cable to his moral temperament and character. Nor
can I better define that peculiarity of spirit which seemed
to place him so essentially apart from all other human
beings, than by calling it a habit of intense and con
tinual thought pervading even his most trivial actions —
intruding upon his moments of dalliance, and inter
weaving itself with his very flashes of merriment — like
adders which writhe from out the eyes of the grinning
masks in the cornices around the temples of Persepolis.

I could not help, however, repeatedly observing
through the mingled tone of levity and solemnity with
which he rapidly descanted upon matters of little im
portance, a certain air of trepidation — a degree of
nervous unction in action and in speech — an unquiet
excitability of manner which appeared to me at all times
unaccountable, and upon some occasions even filled me
with alarm. Frequently, too, pausing in the middle of
a sentence whose commencement he had apparently
forgotten, he seemed to be listening in the deepest atten
tion as if either in momentary expectation of a visitor,
or to sounds which must have had existence in his
imagination alone.

276 THE ASSIGNATION.

It was during one of these reveries or pauses of ap
parent abstraction, that, in turning over a page of the
poet and scholar Politian's beautiful tragedy, "The
Orfeo " (the first native Italian tragedy), which lay near
me upon an ottoman, I discovered a passage underlined
in pencil. It was a passage towards the end of the third
act — a passage of the most heart-stirring excitement — a
passage which, although tainted with impurity, no man
shall read without a thrill of novel emotion — no woman
without a sigh. The whole page was blotted with fresh
tears ; and upon the opposite interleaf were the following
English lines, written in a hand so very different from
the peculiar characters of my acquaintance, that I had
some difficulty in recognizing it as his own :

Thou wast that all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine —
A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers ;

And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last !

Ah, starry Hope, that didst arise
But to he overcast !

A voice from out the Future cries,
" Onward ! " — but o'er the past

(Dim gulf! ) my spirit hovering lies,
Mute — motionless — aghast !

For alas ! alas ! with me

The light of life is o'er.
" No more— no more— no more,"

(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore),

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar !

Now all my hours are trances ;

And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams —
In what ethereal dances —

By what Italian streams !

THE ASSIGNATION. 277

Alas ! for that accursed time

They bore thee o'er the billow,
From love to titled age and crime,

And au unholy pillow !—
From me, and from our misty clime,

Where weeps the silver willow !

That these lines were written in English — a language
with which I had not believed their author acquainted —
afforded me little matter for surprise. I was too well
aware of the extent of his acquirements, and of the sin
gular pleasure he took in concealing them from obser
vation, to be astonished at any similar discovery ; but ,
the place of date, I must confess, occasioned me no little
amazement. It had been originally written in London,
and afterwards carefully overscored — not, however, so
effectually as to conceal the word from a scrutinizing
eye. I say this occasioned me no little amazement ; for
I well remember that, in a former conversation with my
friend, I particularly inquired if he had at any time met
in London the Marchesa di Mentoni (who for some years
previous to her marriage had resided in that city), when
his answer, if I mistake not, gave me to understand that
he had never visited the metropolis of Great Britain.
I might as well here mention that I have more than once
heard (without, of course, giving credit to a report in
volving so many improbabilities), that the person of
whom I speak was, not only by birth, but in education
an Englishman.

# * * # # #

" There is one painting," said he, without being aware
of my notice of the tragedy — " there is still one paint
ing which you have not seen." And throwing aside a
drapery, he discovered a full-length portrait of the Mar
chesa Aphrodite.

Human art could have done no more in the delineation

278 THE ASSIGNATION.

of her superhuman beauty. The same ethereal figure
which stood before me the preceding night upon the
steps of the Ducal Palace, stood before me once again.
But in the expression of the countenance, which was
beaming all over with smiles, there still lurked (incom
prehensible anomaly!) that fitful stain of melancholy
which will ever be found inseparable from the perfection
of the beautiful. Her right arm lay folded over her
bosom. With her left she pointed downward to a curi
ously fashioned vase. One small, fairy foot, alone vis
ible barely touched the earth ; and scarcely discernible
in the brilliant atmosphere which seemed to encircle
and enshrine her loveliness, floated a pair of the most
delicately imagined wings. My glance fell from the
painting to the figure of my friend, and the vigorous
words of Chapman's Bussy D'Ambois quivered instinc
tively upon my lips :

" He is up

There like a Roman statue ! He will stand
Till Death hath made him marble ! "

" Come," he said at length, turning towards a table
of richly enameled and massive silver, upon which
were a few goblets fantastically stained, together with
two large Etruscan vases, fashioned in the same extra
ordinary model as that in the foreground of the portrait,
and filled with what I supposed to be Johannisberger.
" Come," he said abruptly, " let us drink ! It is early —
but let us drink. It is indeed early," he continued
musingly, as a cherub with a heavy golden hammer
made the apartment ring with the first hour after sun
rise : " it is indeed early — but what matters it ? let us
drink ! Let us pour out an offering to yon solemn sun
which these gaudy lamps and censers are so eager to
subdue!" And, having made me pledge him in a

THE ASSIGNATION. 279

bumper, he swallowed in rapid succession several goblets
of the wine.

" To dream," he continued, resuming the tone of his
desultory conversation, as he held up to the rich light
of a censer one of the magnificent vases — " to dream
has been the business of my life. I have therefore
framed for myself, as you see, a bower of dreams. In
the heart of Venice could I have erected a better ? You
behold around you, it is true, a medley of architectural
embellishments. The chastity of Ionia is offended by
antediluvian devices, and the sphinxes of Egypt are
outstretched upon carpets of gold. Yet the effect is
incongruous to the timid alone. Proprieties of place, and
especially of time, are the bugbears which terrify man
kind from the contemplation of the magnificent. Once I
was myself a decorist ; but that sublimation of folly has
palled upon my soul. All this is now the fitter for my
purpose. Like these arabesque censers, my spirit is
writhing in fire, and the delirium of this scene is fash
ioning me for the wilder visions of that land of real
dreams whither I am now rapidly departing." He here
paused abruptly, bent his head to his bosom, and seemed
to listen to a sound which I could not hear. At length,
erecting his frame, he looked upward, and ejaculated
the lines of the Bishop of Chichester :

" Stay for me there ! I ici'll not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale."

In the next instant, confessing the power of the wine, he
threw himself at full length upon an ottoman.

A quick step was now heard upon the staircase, and
a loud knock at the door rapidly succeeded. I was
hastening to anticipate a second disturbance, Avhen a
page of Mentoni's household burst into the room, and

280 THE ASSIGNATION.

faltered out, in a voice choking with emotion, the inco
herent words, " My mistress ! — my mistress ! — Poisoned !
— poisoned ! Oh, beautiful — oh, beautiful Aphrodite ! "
Bewildered, I flew to the ottoman, and endeavored to
arouse the sleeper to a sense of the startling intelligence.
But his limbs were rigid — his lips were livid — his lately
beaming eyes were riveted in death. I staggered back
towards the table — my hand fell upon a cracked and
blackened goblet — and a consciousness of the entire and
terrible truth flashed suddenly over my soul.

THE TELL-TALE HEART.

True ! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had
been and am ; but why will you say that I am mad ?
The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not
dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute.
I heard all things in the heaven and in the eartli. I
heard many things in hell. How then am I mad ?
Hearken ! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can
tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my
brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night.
Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved
the old man. He had never wronged me. He had
never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire.
I think it was his eye ! Yes, it was this ! One of his
eyes resembled that of a vulture — a pale blue eye with
a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran
cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my
mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid my
self of the eye for ever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen
know nothing. But you should have seen me. _You
should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what
caution — with what foresight, with what dissimulation,
I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man
than during the whole week before I killed him. And
(281)

282 THE TELL-TALE HEART.

every night about midnight I turned the latch of his
door and opened it — oh, so gently ! And then when
I had made an opening sufficient for my head I put
in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone
out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would
have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in ! I
moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not
disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to
place my whole head within the opening so far that I
could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha ! would a
madman have been so wise as this? And then when
my head was well in the room I undid the lantern
cautiously — oh, so cautiously — cautiously (for the hinges
creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray
fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven
long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found
the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the
work, for it wras not the old man who vexed me, but
his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke,
I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously
to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and
inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he
would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to
suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in
upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually
cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand
moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that
night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sa
gacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph.
To think that there I was opening the door little by
little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or
thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps
he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as

THE TELL-TALE HEART. 283

if startled. Now you may think that I drew back —
but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick
darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through
fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see
the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on
steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lan
tern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening,
and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out,
"Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour
I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not
hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed,
listening ; j ust as I have done night after night hearken
ing to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was
the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of
pain or of grief — oh, no ! it was the low stifled sound
that arises from the bottom of the soul when over
charged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a
night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it
has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with
its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I
say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt,
and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew
that he had been lying awake ever since the first
slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His
fears had been ever since growing upon him. He
had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could
not. He had been saying to himself, " It is nothing
but the wind in the chimney ; it is only a mouse cross
ing the floor," or " It is merely a cricket which has
made a single chirp." Yes, he has been trying to
comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had

284 THE TELL-TALE HEART.

found all in vain. All in vain, because Death in ap
proaching him had stalked with his black shadow
before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the
mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that
caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard,
to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time very patiently
without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a
little — a very, very little, crevice in the lantern. So I
opened it — you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily
— until at length a single dim ray like the thread of
the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the
vulture eye.

It wras open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as
I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness —
all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled
the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing
else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed
the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned
spot.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake
for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses ? Now,
I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound,
such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I
knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the
old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating
of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely
breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how
steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Mean
time the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew
quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every in
stant. The old man's terror must have been extreme !
It grew louder, I say, louder every moment ! — do you

THE TELL-TALE HEART. 285

mark me well ? I have told you that I am nervous :
so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night,
amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange
a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.
Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood
still. But the beating grew louder, louder ! I thought
the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety'seized
me — the sound would be heard by a neighbor T"SThe
old man's hour had come ! With a loud yell, I threw
open the lantern and leaped into the room. He
shrieked once — once only. In an instant I dragged
him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him.
I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But
for many minutes the heart beats on with a muffled
sound. This, however, did not vex me ; it would not
be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The
old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined
the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed
my hand upon the heart and held it there many min
utes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead.
His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no
longer wrhen I describe the wTise precaution I took for
the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I
worked hastily, but in silence.

I took up three planks from the flooring of the
chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I
then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that
no human eye — not even his — could have detected any
thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out — no stain
of any kind — no blood-spot whatever. I had been too
wary for that.

When I had made an end of these labors, it was
four o'clock — still dark as midnight. As the bell

286 THE TELL-TALE HEART.

sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street
door. I went down to open it with a light heart, — for
what had I now to fear? There entered three men,
who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as
officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a
neighbor during the night ; suspicion of foul play had
been aroused ; information had been lodged at the police
office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to
search the premises.

I smiled — for what had I to fear ? I bade the gentle
men welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a
dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the
country. I took my visitors all over the house. I
bade them search — search well. I led them, at length,
to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure,
undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I
brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to
rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild
audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat
upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse
of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had con
vinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and
while I answered cheerily they chatted of familiar
things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and
wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a
ringing in my ears ; but still they sat, and still chatted.
The ringing became more distinct ; — it continued and
became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid
of the feeling : but it continued and gained definitive-
ness — until, at length, I found that the noise was not
within my ears.

No doubt F now grew very pale; — but I talked
more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the

THE TELL-TALE HEART. 287

sound increased — and what could I do? It was a
low, dull, quick sound — much such a sound as a watch
makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath —
and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more
quickly — more vehemently ; but the noise steadily
increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high
key and with violent gesticulations ; but the noise
steadily increased. Why would they not be gone ? I
paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if ex
cited to fury by the observations of the men — but the
noise steadily increased. O God! what could I do? I
foamed — I raved — I swore ! I swung the chair upon
which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the
boards, but the noise arose over all and continually in
creased. It grew louder — louder — louder! And still
the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possi
ble they heard not ? Almighty God ! — no, no ! They
heard ! — they suspected ! — they knew ! — they were mak
ing a mockery of my horror ! — this I thought, and this
I think. But anything was better than this agony!
Anything was more tolerable than this derision ! I
could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer ! I felt
that I must scream or die — and now — again ! — hark !
louder! louder! louder! louder! —

" Villains ! " I shrieked, " dissemble no more ! I
admit the deed ! — tear up the planks ! — here, here ! — it
is the beating of his hideous heart ! "

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