The works of Edgar Allan Poe

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P A

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

« The teetU . . . glistened Uk* 4 rto»« ^ >»nUf

Vol. I, p. 144.

1Rav>en Bbitton

THE WORKS OF

EDGAR ALLAN POE

IN FIVE VOLUMES

FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR FROM PAINTING

By ARTHUR E. BECHER

VOLUME ONE

NEW YORK

P. F. COLLIER & SON

MC M I I I

COPYRIGHT 1903
BY P. F. COLLIER & SON

v. I

THE WORKS OF
EDGAR ALLAN POE

1430167

CONTENTS

PREFACE 5

LIFE OF POE 15

DEATH OF POE . 27

THE UNPARALLELED ADVENTURE OF ONE HANS

PFAALL 0 . . . 39

THE GOLD-BUG 121

FOUR BEASTS IN ONE , 178

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE IQI

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGE^T 248

THE BALLOON-HOAX 328

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE 349

THE OVAL PORTRAIT 366

r

EDGAR ALLAN POE

AN APPRECIATION

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful
Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one bur-
den bore —

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "never — never more !"

THIS stanza from "The Raven" was recom-
mended by James Russell Lowell as an inscription
upon the Baltimore monument which marks the rest-
ing place of Edgar Allan Poe, the most interesting
and original figure in American letters. And, to
signify that peculiar musical quality of Poe's gen-
ius which inthralls every reader, Mr. Lowell sug-
gested this additional verse, from the "Haunted
Palace" :

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

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

And sparkling ever more,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,

The wit and wisdom of their king.

Born in poverty at Boston, January 19, 1809,
dying under painful circumstances at Baltimore, Oc-
tober 7, 1849, his whole literary career of scarcely
fifteen years a pitiful struggle for mere subsistence,
his memory malignantly misrepresented by his ear-

6 A Memoir

liest biographer, Griswold, how completely has truth
at last routed falsehood and how magnificently has
Poe come into his own. For "The Raven," first
published in 1845, and> within a few months, read,
recited and parodied wherever the English language
was spoken, the half -starved poet received $10!
Less than a year later his brother poet, N. P. Willis,
issued this touching appeal to the admirers of gen-
ius on behalf of the neglected author, his dying
wife and her devoted mother, then living under very
straitened circumstances in a little cottage at Ford-
ham, N. Y. :

"Here is one of the finest scholars, one of the
most original men of genius, and one of the most
industrious of the literary profession of our coun-
try, whose temporary suspension of labor, from
bodily illness, drops him immediately to a level with
the common objects of public charity. There is no
intermediate stopping-place, no respectful shelter,
where, with the delicacy due to genius and culture,
he might secure aid, till, with returning health, he
would resume his labors, and his unmortified sense
of independence."

And this was the tribute paid by the American
public to the master who had given to it such tales
of conjuring charm, of witchery and mystery as
"The Fall of the House of Usher" and "Ligea";
such fascinating hoaxes as "The Unparalleled Ad-
venture of Hans Pfaall," "MSS. Found in a Bot-

A Memoir 7

tie," "A Descent Into a Maelstrom" and "The Bal-
loon Hoax"; such tales of conscience as "William
Wilson," "The Black Cat" and "The Tell-tale
Heart," wherein the retributions of remorse are por-
trayed with an awful fidelity; such tales of natural
beauty as "The Island of the Fay" and "The Do-
main of Arnheim"; such marvellous studies in ra-
tiocination as the "Gold-bug," "The Murders in the
Rue Morgue," "The Purloined Letter" and "The
Mystery of Marie Roget," the latter, a recital of
fact, demonstrating the author's wonderful capa-
bility of correctly analyzing the mysteries of the hu-
man mind ; such tales of illusion and banter as "The
Premature Burial" and "The System of Dr. Tarr
and Professor Fether" ; such bits of extravaganza
as "The Devil in the Belfry" and "The Angel of the
Odd" ; such tales of adventure as "The Narrative of
Arthur Gordon Pym" ; such papers of keen criticism
and review as won for Poe the enthusiastic admira-
tion of Charles Dickens, although they made him
many enemies among the over-puffed minor Ameri-
can writers so mercilessly exposed by him; such
poems of beauty and melody as "The Bells," "The
Haunted Palace," "Tamerlane," "The City in the
Sea" and "The Raven." What delight for the jaded
senses of the reader is this enchanted domain of
wonder-pieces ! What an atmosphere of beauty, mu-
sic, color! What resources of imagination, con-
struction, analysis and absolute art ! One might al-

8 A Memoir

most sympathize with Sarah Helen Whitman, who,
confessing to a half faith in the old superstition of
the significance of anagrams, found, in the trans-
posed letters of Edgar Poe's name, the words "a
God-peer/' His mind, she says, was indeed a
"Haunted Palace," echoing to the footfalls of an-
gels and demons.

"No man," Poe himself wrote, "has recorded, no
man has dared to record, the wonders of his inner
life."

In these twentieth century days of lavish recog-
nition— artistic, popular and material — of genius,
what rewards might not a Poe claim!

Edgar's father, a son of General David Poe, the
American revolutionary patriot and friend of La-
fayette, had married Mrs. Hopkins, an English
actress, and, the match meeting with parental
disapproval, had himself taken to the stage as a
profession. Notwithstanding Mrs. Poe's beauty and
talent the young couple had a sorry struggle for ex-
istence. When Edgar, at the age of two years, was
orphaned, the family was in the utmost destitution.
Apparently the future poet was to be cast upon the
world homeless and friendless. But fate decreed
that a few glimmers of sunshine were to illumine
his life, for the little fellow was adopted by John
Allan, a wealthy merchant of Richmond, Va. A
brother and sister, the remaining children, were
cared for by others.

A Memoir 9

In his new home Edgar found all the luxury and
advantages money could provide. He was petted,
spoiled and shown off to strangers. In Mrs. Allan
he found all the affection a childless wife could be-
stow. Mr. Allan took much pride in the captivat-
ing, precocious lad. At the age of five the boy re-
cited, with fine effect, passages of English poetry to
the visitors at the Allan house.

From his eighth to his thirteenth year he at-
tended the Manor House school, at Stoke-Newing-
ton, a suburb of London. It was the Rev. Dr.
Bransby, head of the school, whom Poe so quaintly
portrayed in " William Wilson." Returning to Rich-
mond in 1820 Edgar was sent to the school of Pro-
fessor Joseph H. Clarke. He proved an apt pupil.
Years afterward Professor Clarke thus wrote:

"While the other boys wrote mere mechanical
verses, Poe wrote genuine poetry; the boy was a
born poet. As a scholar he was ambitious to ex-
cel. He was remarkable for self-respect, without
haughtiness. He had a sensitive and tender heart
and would do anything for a friend. His nature
was entirely free from selfishness."

At the age of seventeen Poe entered the Univer-
sity of Virginia at Charlottesville. He left that in-
stitution after one session. Official records prove
that he was not expelled. On the contrary, he
gained a creditable record as a student, although it
is admitted that he contracted debts and had "an

io A Memoir

ungovernable passion for card-playing." These
debts may have led to his quarrel with Mr. Allan
which eventually compelled him to make his own
way in the world.

Early in 1827 Poe made his first literary venture.
He induced Calvin Thomas, a poor and youthful
printer, to publish a small volume of his verses un-
der the title "Tamerlane and Other Poems." In
1829 we find Poe in Baltimore with another manu-
script volume of verses, which was soon published.
Its title was "Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane and Other
Poems." Neither of these ventures seems to have
attracted much attention.

Soon after Mrs. Allan's death, which occurred in
1829, Poe, through the aid of Mr. Allan, secured
admission to the United States Military Academy
at West Point. Any glamour which may have at-
tached to cadet life in Poe's eyes was speedily lost,
for discipline at West Point was never so severe nor
were the accommodations ever so poor. Poe's bent
was more and more toward literature. Life at the
academy daily became increasingly distasteful.
Soon he began to purposely neglect his studies and
to disregard his duties, his aim being to secure his
dismissal from the United States service. In this
he succeeded. On March 7, 1831, Poe found him-
self free. Mr. Allan's second marriage had thrown
the lad on his own resources. His literary career
was to begia

A Memoir n

Poe's first genuine victory was won in 1833, when
he was the successful competitor for a prize of $100
offered by a Baltimore periodical for the best prose
story. "A MSS. Found in a Bottle" was the win-
ning tale. Poe had submitted six stories in a vol-
ume. "Our only difficulty," says Mr. Latrobe, one
of the judges, "was in selecting from the rich con-
tents of the volume."

During the fifteen years of his literary life Poe
was connected with various newspapers and maga-
zines in Richmond, Philadelphia and New York.
He was faithful, punctual, industrious, thorough.
N. P. Willis, who for some time employed Poe as
critic and sub-editor on the "Evening Mirror,"
wrote thus :

"With the highest admiration for Poe's genius,
and a willingness to let it alone for more than or-
dinary irregularity, we were led by common report
to expect a very capricious attention to his duties,
and occasionally a scene of violence and difficulty.
Time went on, however, and he was invariably
punctual and industrious. We saw but one present-
iment of the man — a quiet, patient, industrious and
most gentlemanly person.

"We heard, from one who knew him well (what
should be stated in all mention of his lamentable ir-
regularities), that with a single glass of wine his
whole nature was reversed, the demon became up-
permost, and, though none of the usual signs of in-

12 A Memoir

toxication were visible, his will was palpably insane.
In this reversed character, we repeat, it was never
our chance to meet him."

On September 22, 1835, Poe married his cousin,
Virginia Clemm, in Baltimore. She had barely
turned thirteen years, Poe himself was but twenty-
six. He then was a resident of Richmond and a
regular contributor to the "Southern Literary Mes-
senger." It was not until a year later that the
bride and her widowed mother followed him thither.

Poe's devotion to his child- wife was one of the
most beautiful features of his life. Many of his
famous poetic productions were inspired by her
beauty and charm. Consumption had marked her
for its victim, and the constant efforts of husband
and mother were to secure for her all the comfort
and happiness their slender means permitted. Vir-
ginia died January 30, 1847, when but twenty-five
years of age. A friend of the family pictures the
death-bed scene — mother and husband trying to im-
part warmth to her by chafing her hands and her
feet, while her pet cat was suffered to nestle upon
her bosom for the sake of added warmth.

These verses from "Annabel Lee," written by Poe
in 1849, the last year of his life, tell of his sorrow
at the loss of his child-wife :

/ was a child and she was a child,

In a kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love —

I and my Annabel Lee;

A Memoir 13

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea.
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came

And bore her away from me, . :<y-

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea,

Poe was connected at various times and in various
capacities with the "Southern Literary Messenger"
in Richmond, Va. ; "Graham's Magazine" and the
"Gentleman's Magazine" in Philadelphia; the
"Evening Mirror," the "Broadway Journal," and
"Godey's Lady's Book" in New York. Everywhere
Poe's life was one of unremitting toil. No tales
and poems were ever produced at a greater cost
of brain and spirit.

Poe's initial salary with the "Southern Literary
Messenger," to which he contributed the first drafts
of a number of his best-known tales, was $10 a
week ! Two years later his salary was but $600 a
year. Even in 1844, when his literary reputation
was established securely, he wrote to a friend ex-
pressing his pleasure because a magazine to which
he was to contribute had agreed to pay him $20
monthly for two pages of criticism.

Those were discouraging times in American lit-
erature, but Poe never lost faith. He was finally
to triumph wherever pre-eminent talents win ad-

14 A Memoir

mirers. His genius has had no better description
than in this stanza from William Winter's poem,
read at the dedication exercises of the Actors' Mon-
ument to Poe, May 4, 1885, in New York:

He was the voice of beauty and of woe,
Passion and mystery and the dread unknown;
Pure as the mountains of perpetual snow,
Cold as the icy winds that round them moan,
Dark as the caves wherein earth's thunders groan,
Wild as the tempests of the upper sky,
Sweet as the faint, far-off celestial tone of angel whis-
pers, fluttering from on high,
And tender as love's tear when youth and beauty die.

In the two and a half score years that have elapsed
since Poe's death he has come fully into his own.
For a while Griswold's malignant misrepresenta-
tions colored the public estimate of Poe as man and
as writer. But, thanks to J. H. Ingram, W. F.
Gill, Eugene Didier, Sarah Helen Whitman and
others these scandals have been dispelled and Poe
is seen as he actually was — not as a man without
failings, it is true, but as the finest and most origi-
nal genius in American letters. As the years go
on his fame increases. His works have been trans-
lated into many foreign languages. His is a house-
hold name in France and England — in fact, the lat-
ter nation has often uttered the reproach that Poe's
own country has been slow to appreciate him. But
that reproach, if it ever was warranted, certainly is
untrue. W. H. R.

EDGAR ALLAN POE*

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

THE situation of American literature is anoma-
lous. It has no centre, or, if it have, it is like that
of the sphere of Hermes. It is divided into many
systems, each revolving round its several suns, and
often presenting to the rest only the faint glimmer
of a milk-and-water way. Our capital city, unlike
London or Paris, is not a great central heart from
which life and vigor radiate to the extremities, but
resembles more an isolated umbilicus stuck down as
near as may be to the centre of the land, and seem-
ing rather to tell a legend of former usefulness than
to serve any present need. Boston, New York,
Philadelphia, each has its literature almost more dis-
tinct than those of the different dialects of Germany ;
and the Young Queen of the West has also one of
her own, of which some articulate rumor barely has
reached us dwellers by the Atlantic.

Perhaps there is no task more difficult than the
just criticism of contemporary literature. It is even
more grateful to give praise where it is needed than
where it is deserved, and friendship so often se-
duces the iron stylus of justice into a vague flourish,
that she writes what seems rather like an epitaph

* The following notice of Mr. Poe's Hie and works was
written at his own request, and accompanied a portrait of him,
published in "Graham's Magazine" for February, 1845, under
the general heading, "Our Contributors — No. XVII." It is
here reprinted, with a few alterations and omissions.

05)

1 6 Life of Poe

than a criticism. Yet if praise be given as an alms,
we could not drop so poisonous a one into any
man's hat. The critic's ink may suffer equally
from too large an infusion of nutgalls or of sugar.
But it is easier to be generous than to be just, and
we might readily put faith in that fabulous direction
to the hiding place of truth, did we judge from
the amount of water which we usually find mixed
with it.

Remarkable experiences are usually confined to
the inner life of imaginative men, but Mr. Poe's
biography displays a vicissitude and peculiarity of
interest such as is rarely .met with. The offspring
of a romantic marriage, and left an orphan at an
early age, he was adopted by Mr. Allan, a wealthy
Virginian, whose barren marriage-bed seemed the
warranty of a large estate to the young poet.

Having received a classical education in Eng-
land, he returned home and entered the University
of Virginia, where, after an extravagant course, fol-
lowed by reformation at the last extremity, he was
graduated with the highest honors of his class.
Then came a boyish attempt to join the fortunes of
the insurgent Greeks, which ended at St. Peters-
burg, where he got into difficulties through want of
a passport, from which he was rescued by the Ameri-
can consul and sent home. He now entered the
military academy at West Point, from which he
obtained a dismissal on hearing of the birth of a son
to his adopted father, by a second marriage, an
event which cut off his expectations as an heir. The
death of Mr. Allan, in whose will his name was not
mentioned, soon after relieved him of all doubt in
this regard, and he committed himself at once to

Life of Poe 17

authorship for a support. Previously to this, how-
ever, he had published (in 1827) a small volume of
poems, which soon ran through three editions, and
excited high expectations of its author's future dis-
tinction in the minds of many competent judges.

That no certain augury can be drawn from a
poet's earliest lispings there are instances enough to
prove. Shakespeare's first poems, though brimful
of vigor and youth and picturesqueness, give but a
very faint promise of the directness, condensation
and overflowing moral of his maturer works. Per-
haps, however, Shakespeare is hardly a case in
point, his "Venus and Adonis" having been pub-
lished, we believe, in his twenty-sixth year. Mil-
ton's Latin verses show tenderness, a fine eye for
nature, and a delicate appreciation of classic models,
but give no hint of the author of a new style in
poetry. Pope's youthful pieces have all the sing-
song, wholly unrelieved by the glittering malignity
and eloquent irreligion of his later productions.
Collins' callow namby-pamby died and gave no sign
of the vigorous and original genius which he after-
ward displayed. We have never thought that the
world lost more in the "marvellous boy," Chatter-
ton, than a very ingenious imitator of obscure and
antiquated dulness. Where he becomes original (as
it is called), the interest of ingenuity ceases and he
becomes stupid. Kirke White's promises were in-
dorsed by the respectable name of Mr. Southey, but
surely with no authority from Apollo. They have
the merit of a traditional piety, which to our mind,
if uttered at all, had been less objectionable in the
retired closet of a diary, and in the sober raiment of
prose. They do not clutch hold of the memory with

1 8 Life of Poe

the drowning- pertinacity of Watts; neither have
they the interest of his occasional simple, lucky
beauty. Burns having fortunately been rescued by
his humble station from the contaminating society
of the "Best models," wrote well and naturally from
the first. Had he been unfortunate enough to have
had an educated faste, we should have had a series
of poems from which, as from his letters, we could
sift here and there a kernel from the mass of chaff.
Coleridge's youthful efforts give no promise what-
ever of that poetical genius which produced at once
the wildest, tenderest, most original and most purely
imaginative poems of modern times. Byron's
"Hours of Idleness" would never find a reader ex-
cept from an intrepid and indefatigable curiosity. In
Wordsworth's first preludings there is but a dim
foreboding of the creator of an era. From Southey's
early poems, a safer augury might have been drawn.
They show the patient investigator, the close stu-
dent of history, and the unwearied explorer of the
beauties of predecessors, but they give no assurances
of a man who should add aught to stock of house-
hold words-, or to the rarer and more sacred delights
of the fireside or the arbor. The earliest specimens
of Shelley's poetic mind already, also, give tokens of
that ethereal sublimation in which the spirit seems to
soar above the regions of words, but leaves its body,
the verse, to be entombed, without hope of resurrec-
tion, in a mass of them. Cowley is generally in-
stanced as a wonder of precocity. But his early in-
sipidities show only a capacity for rhyming and for
the metrical arrangement of certain conventional
combinations of words, a capacity wholly dependent
on a delicate physical organization, and an unhappy

Life of Poe 19

memory. An early poem is only remarkable when
it displays an effort of reason, and the rudest verses
in which we can trace some conception of the ends
of poetry, are worth all the miracles of smooth
juvenile versification. A school-boy, one would say,
might acquire the regular see-saw of Pope merely by
an association with the motion of the play-ground
tilt.

Mr. Poe's early productions show that he could
see through the verse to the spirit beneath, and that
he already had a feeling that all the life and grace of
the one must depend on and be modulated by the
will of the other. We call them the most remark-
able boyish poems that we have ever read. We
know of none that can compare with them for ma-
turity of purpose, and a nice understanding of the
effects of language and metre. Such pieces are only
valuable when they display what we can only ex-
press by the contradictory phrase of innate experi-
ence. We copy one of the shorter poems, written
when the author was only fourteen. There is a lit-
tle dimness in the filling up, but the grace and sym-
metry of the outline are such as few poets ever at-
tain. There is a smack of ambrosia about it.

TO HELEN
Helen, thy beauty is to me

Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,

The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,

Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece

And the grandeur that was Rome.

2O Life of Poe

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand!

The agate lamp within thy hand,
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which

Are Holy Land!

It is the tendency of the young poet that impresses
us. Here is no "withering scorn," no heart
"blighted" ere it has safely got into its teens, none
of the drawing-room sansculottism which Byron had
brought into vogue. All is limpid and serene, with
a pleasant dash of the Greek Helicon in it. The
melody of the whole, too, is remarkable. It is not
of that kind which can be demonstrated artihmeti-
cally upon the tips of the fingers. It is of that
finer sort which the inner ear alone can estimate.
It seems simple, like a Greek column, because of its
perfection. In a poem named "Ligeia," under
which title he intended to personify the music of
nature, our boy-poet gives us the following exquis-
ite picture:

Ligeia! Ligeia!
My beautiful one,

Whose harshest idea
Will to melody run,
Say, is it thy will,
On the breezes to toss,
Or, capriciously still,
Like the lone albatross,
Incumbent on night,
As she on the air,

To keep watch with delight
On the harmony there?

John Neal, himself a man of genius, and whose
lyre has been too long capriciously silent, appreci-
ated the high merit of these and similar passages,
and drew a proud horoscope for their author.

Life of Poe 21

Mr. Poe had that indescribable something which
men have agreed to call genius. No man could ever
tell us precisely what it is, and yet there is none who
is not inevitably aware of its presence and its power.
Let talent writhe and contort itself as it may, it has
no such magnetism. Larger of bone and sinew it
may be, but the wings are wanting. Talent sticks
fast to earth, and its most perfect works have still
one foot of clay. Genius claims kindred with the
very workings of Nature herself, so that a sunset
shall seem like a quotation from Dante, and if
Shakespeare be read in the very presence of the sea
itself, his verses shall but seem nobler for the sub-
lime criticism of ocean. Talent may make friends
for itself, but only genius can give to its creations
the divine power of winning love and veneration.
Enthusiasm cannot cling to what itself is unenthu-
siastic, nor will he ever have disciples who has not
himself impulsive zeal enough to be a disciple.
Great wits are allied to madness only inasmuch as
they are possessed and carried away by their demon,
while talent keeps him, as Paracelsus did, securely
prisoned in the pommel of his sword. To the eye of
genius, the veil of the spiritual world is ever rent
asunder, that it may perceive the ministers of good
and evil who throng continually around it. No man
of mere talent ever flung his inkstand at the devil.

When we say that Mr. Poe had genius, we do not
mean to say that he has produced evidence of the
highest. But to say that he possesses it at all is to
say that he needs only zeal, industry, and a rever-
ence for the trust reposed in him, to achieve the
proudest triumphs and the greenest laurels. If we
may believe the Longinuses and Aristotles of our

22 Life of Poe

newspapers, we have quite too many geniuses of the
loftiest order to render a place among them at all
desirable, whether for its hardness of attainment or
its seclusion. The highest peak of our Parnassus is,
according to these gentlemen, by far the most
thickly settled portion of the country, a circumstance
which must make it an uncomfortable residence for
individuals of a poetical temperament, if love of
solitude be, as immemorial tradition asserts, a neces-
sary part of their idiosyncrasy.

Mr. Poe has two of the prime qualities of genius,
a faculty of vigorous yet minute analysis, and a
wonderful fecundity of imagination. The first of
these faculties is as needful t'o the artist in words,
as a knowledge of anatomy is to the artist in colors
or in stone. This enables him to conceive truly, to
maintain a proper relation of parts, and to draw a
correct outline, while the second groups, fills up and
colors. Both of these Mr. Poe has displayed with
singular distinctness in his prose works, the last
predominating in his earlier tales, and the first in his
later ones. In judging of the merit of an author,
and assigning him his niche among our household
gods, we have a right to regard him from our own
point of view, and to measure him by our own stand-
ard. But, in estimating the amount of power dis-
played in his works, we must be governed by his
own design, and placing them by the side of his own
ideal, find how much is wanting. We differ from
Mr. Poe in his opinions of the objects of art. He
esteems that object to be the creation of Beauty, and
perhaps it is only in the definition of that word that
we disagree with him. But in what we shall say of
his writings, we shall take his own standard as our

Life of Poe 23

guide. The temple of the god of song is equally
accessible from every side, and there is room
enough in it for all who bring offerings, or seek in
oracle.

In his tales, Mr. Poe has chosen to exhibit his
power chiefly in that dim region which stretches
from the very utmost limits of the probable into the
weird confines of superstition and unreality. He
combines in a very remarkable manner two faculties
which are seldom found united; a power of influ-
encing the mind of the reader by the impalpable
shadows of mystery, and a minuteness of detail
which does not leave a pin or a button unnoticed.
Both are, in truth, the natural results of the pre-
dominating quality of his mind, to which we have
before alluded, analysis. It is this which distin-
guishes the artist. His mind at once reaches for-
ward to the effect to be produced. Having resolved
to bring about certain emotions in the reader, he
makes all subordinate parts tend strictly to the com-
mon centre. Even his mystery is mathematical to
his own mind. To him X is a known quantity all
along. In any picture that he paints he understands
the chemical properties of all his colors. However
vague some of his figures may seem, however form-
less the shadows, to him the outline is as clear and
distinct as that of a geometrical diagram. For this
reason Mr. Poe has no sympathy with Mysticism.
The Mystic dwells in the mystery, is enveloped
with it ; it colors all his thoughts ; it affects his optic
nerve especially, and the commonest things get a
rainbow edging from it. Mr. Poe, on the other
hand, is a spectator ab extra. He analyzes, he dis-
sects, he watches

24 Life of Poe

"with an eye serene,
The very pulse of the machine,"

for such it practically is to him, with wheels and
cogs and piston-rods, all working to produce a cer-
tain end.

This analyzing tendency of his mind balances the
poetical, and by giving him the patience to be mi-
nute, enables him to throw a wonderful reality into
his most unreal fancies. A monomania he paints
with great power. He loves to dissect one of these
cancers of the mind, and to trace all the subtle rami-
fications of its roots. In raising images of horror,
also, he has strange success, conveying to us some-
times by a dusky hint some terrible doubt which is
the secret of all horror. He leaves to imagination
the task of finishing the picture, a task to which only
she is competent.

"For much imaginary work was there;
Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind,
That for Achilles' image stood his spear
Grasped in an armed hand ; himself behind
Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind."

Besides the merit of conception, Mr. Poe's writ-
ings have also that of form.

His style is highly finished, graceful and truly
classical. It would be hard to find a living author
who had displayed such varied powers. As an ex-
ample of his style we would refer to one of his
tales, "The House of Usher," in the first volume of
his "Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque." It has
a singular charm for us, and we think that no one
could read it without being strongly moved by its

Life of Poe 25

serene and sombre beauty. Had its author written
nothing else, it would alone have been enough to
stamp him as a man of genius, and the master of a
classic style. In this tale occurs, perhaps, the most
beautiful of his poems.

The great masters of imagination have seldom re-
sorted to the vague and the unreal as sources of ef-
fect. They have not used dread and horror alone,
but only in combination with other qualities, as
means of subjugating the fancies of their readers.
The loftiest muse has ever a household and fireside
charm about her. Mr. Poe's secret lies mainly in
the skill with which he has employed the strange
fascination of mystery and terror. In this his suc-
cess is so great and striking as to deserve the name
of art, not artifice. We cannot call his materials the
noblest or purest, but we must concede to him the
highest merit of construction.

As a critic, Mr. Poe was aesthetically deficient.
Unerring in his analysis of dictions, metres and
plots, he seemed wanting in the faculty of perceiv-
ing the profounder ethics of art. His criticisms
are, however, distinguished for scientific precision
and coherence of logic. They have the exactness,
and at the same time, the coldness of mathematical
demonstrations. Yet they stand in strikingly re-
freshing contrast with the vague generalisms and
sharp personalities of the day. If deficient in
warmth, they are also without the heat of partisan-
ship. They are especially valuable as illustrating
the great truth, too generally overlooked, that
analytic power is a subordinate quality of the
critic.

On the whole, it may be considered certain that

I-Poe-2

26 Life of Poe

Mr. Poe has attained an individual eminence in our
literature which he will keep. He has given proof
of power and originality. He has done that which
could only be done once with success or safety, and
the imitation or repetition of which would produce
weariness.

DEATH OF EDGAR A. POE

BY N. P. WILLIS

THE ancient fable of two antagonistic spirits im-
prisoned in one body, equally powerful and having
the complete mastery by turns — of one man, that is
to say, inhabited by both a devil and an angel —
seems to have been realized, if all we hear is true, in
the character of the extraordinary man whose name
we have written above. Our own impression of the
nature of Edgar A. Poe, differs in some important
degree, however, from that which has been gen-
erally conveyed in the notices of his death. Let us,
before telling what we personally know of him, copy
a graphic and highly finished portraiture, from the
pen of Dr. Rufus W. Griswold, which appeared in
a recent number of the "Tribune :"*

"Edgar Allen Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore
on Sunday, October 7th. This announcement will
startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The
poet was known, personally or by reputation, in all
this country ; he had readers in England and in sev-
eral of the states of Continental Europe; but he* had
few or no friends ; and the regrets for his death will
be suggested principally by the consideration that in
him literary art has lost one of its most brilliant but
erratic stars.

*These remarks were published by Mr. Willis in the "Home
Journal," on the Saturday following Mr. Foe's death.

28 Death of Poe

"His conversation was at times almost supra-
mortal in its eloquence. His voice was modulated
with astonishing skill, and his large and variably
expressive eyes looked repose or shot fiery tumult
into theirs who listened, while his own face glowed,
or was changeless in pallor, as his imagination quick-
ened his blood or drew it back frozen to his heart.
His imagery was from the worlds which no mortals
can see but with the vision of genius. Suddenly
starting from a proposition, exactly and sharply de-
fined, in terms of utmost simplicity and clearness, he
rejected the forms of customary logic, and by a
crystalline process of accretion, built up his ocular
demonstrations in forms of gloomiest and ghastli-
est grandeur, or in those of the most airy and deli-
cious beauty, so minutely and distinctly, yet so rap-
idly, that the attention which was yielded to him was
chained till it stood among his wonderful creations,
till he himself dissolved the spell, and brought his
hearers back to common and base existence, by vul-
gar fancies or exhibitions of the ignoblest passion.

"He was at all times a dreamer — dwelling in ideal
realms — in heaven or hell — peopled with the creat-
ures and the accidents of his brain. He walked the
streets, in madness or melancholy, with lips moving
in indistinct curses, or with eyes upturned in passion-
ate prayer (never for himself, for he felt, or pro-
fessed to feel, that he was already damned, but) for
their happiness who at the moment were objects of
his idolatry; or with his glances introverted to a
heart gnawed with anguish, and with a face
shrouded in gloom, he would brave the wildest
storms, and all night, with drenched garments and
arms beating the winds and rains, would speak as if

Death of Poe 29

the spirits that at such times only could be evoked
by him from the Aidenn, close by whose portals his
disturbed soul sought to forget the ills to which his
constitution subjected him — close by the Aidenn
where were those he loved — the Aidenn which he
might never see, but in fitful glimpses, as its gates
opened to receive the less fiery and more happy na-
tures whose destiny to sin did not involve the doom
of death.

"He seemed, except when some fitful pursuit sub-
jugated his will and engrossed his faculties, always
to bear the memory of some controlling sorrow.
The remarkable poem of The Raven' was proba-
bly much more nearly than has been supposed, even
by those who were very intimate with him, a re-
flection and an echo of his own history. He was
that bird's

" 'unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden

bore —

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never— never more.'

"Every genuine author in a greater or less de-
gree leaves in his works, whatever their design,
traces of his personal character : elements of his im-
mortal being, in which the individual survives the
person. While we read the pages of the 'Fall of
the House of Usher/ or of 'Mesmeric Revelations/
we see in the solemn and stately gloom which in-
vests one, and in the subtle metaphysical analysis of
both, indications of the idiosyncrasies of what was
most remarkable and peculiar in the author's intel-
lectual nature. But we see here only the better
phases of his nature, only the symbols of his juster

30 Death of Poe

action, for his harsh experience had deprived him of
all faith in man or woman. He had made up his
mind upon the numberless complexities of the so-
cial world, and the whole system with him was an
imposture. This conviction gave a direction to his
shrewd and naturally unamiable character. Still,
though he regarded society as composed altogether
of villains, the sharpness of his intellect was not of
that kind which enabled him to cope with villany,
while it continually caused him by overshots to fail
of the success of honesty. He was in many respects
like Francis Vivian in Bulwer's novel of 'The Cax-
tons.' Passion, in him, comprehended many of the
worst emotions which militate against human hap-
piness. You could not contradict him, but you
raised quick choler; you could not speak of wealth,
but his cheek paled with gnawing envy. The aston-
ishing natural advantages of this poor boy — his
beauty, his readiness, the daring spirit that breathed
around him like a fiery atmosphere — had raised his
constitutional self-confidence into an arrogance that
turned his very claims to admiration into prejudices
against him. Irascible, envious — bad enough, but
not the worst, for these salient angles were all var-
nished over with a cold, repellant cynicism, his pas-
sions vented themselves in sneers. There seemed to
him no moral susceptibility ; and, what was more re-
markable in a proud nature, little or nothing of the
true point of honor. He had, to a morbid excess,
that desire to rise which is vulgarly called ambition,
but no wish for the esteem or the love of his species ;
only the hard wish to succeed — not shine, not serve
— succeed, that he might have the right to despise a
world which galled his self-conceit.

Death of Poe 31

"We have suggested the influence of his aims and
vicissitudes upon his literature. It was more con-
spicuous in his later than in his earlier writings.
Nearly all that he wrote in the last two or three
years — including much of his best poetry — was in
some sense biographical; in draperies of his imagi-
nation, those who had taken the trouble to trace his
steps, could perceive, but slightly concealed, the fig-
ure of himself."
i

Apropos of the disparaging portion of the above
well-written sketch, let us truthfully say:

Some four or five years since, when editing a
daily paper in this city, Mr. Poe was employed by
us, for several months, as critic and sub-editor. This
was our first personal acquaintance with him. He
resided with his wife and mother at Fordham, a
few miles out of town, but was at his desk in the of-
fice, from nine in the morning till the evening paper
went to press. With the highest admiration for his
genius, and a willingness to let it atone for more
than ordinary irregularity, we were led by common
report to expect a very capricious attention to his
duties, and occasionally a scene of violence and diffi-
culty. Time went on, however, and he was invari-
ably punctual and industrious. With his pale, beau-
tiful, and intellectual face, as a reminder of what
genius was in him, it was impossible, of course, not
to treat him always with deferential courtesy, and,
to our occasional request that he would not probe
too deep in a criticism, or that he would erase a pas-
sage colored too highly with his resentments against
society and mankind, he readily and courteously as-
sented— far more yielding than most men, we

32 Death of Poe

thought, on points so excusably sensitive. With a
prospect of taking the lead in another periodical, he,
at last, voluntarily gave up his employment with us,
and, through all this considerable period, we had
seen but one presentment of the man — a quiet, pa-
tient, industrious, and most gentlemanly person,
commanding the utmost respect and good feeling
by his unvarying deportment and ability.

Residing as he did in the country, we never met
Mr. Poe in hours of leisure ; but he frequently called
on us afterward at our place of business, and we met
him often in the street — invariably the same sad-
mannered, winning and refined gentleman, such as
we had always known him. It was by rumor only,
up to the day of his death, that we knew of any other
development of manner or character. We heard,
from one who knew him well (what should be stated
in all mention of his lamentable irregularities), that,
with a single glass of wine, his whole nature was
reversed, the demon became uppermost, and, though
none of the usual signs of intoxication were visible,
his will was palpably insane. Possessing his reason-
ing faculties in excited activity, at such times, and
seeking his acquaintances with his wonted look and
memory, he easily seemed personating only another
phase of his natural character, and was accused, ac-
cordingly, of insulting arrogance and bad-hearted-
ness. In this reversed character, we repeat, it was
never our chance to see him. We know it from
hearsay, and we mention it in connection with this
sad infirmity of physical constitution ; which puts it
upon very nearly the ground of a temporary and al-
most irresponsible insanity.

The arrogance, vanity, and depravity of heart, of

Death of Poe 33

which Mr. Poe was generally accused, seem to us
referable altogether to this reversed phase of his
character. Under that degree of intoxication which
only acted upon him by demonizing his sense of
truth and right, he doubtless said and did much that
was wholly irreconcilable with his better nature ; but,
when himself, and as we knew him only, his mod-
esty and unaffected humility, as to his own deserv-
ings, were a constant charm to his character. His
letters, of which the constant application for auto-
graphs has taken from us, we are sorry to confess,
the greater portion, exhibited this quality very
strongly. In one of the carelessly written notes of
which we chance still to retain possession, for in-
stance, he speaks of "The Raven" — that extraordi-
nary poem which electrified the world of imaginative
readers, and has become the type of a school of
poetry of its own — and, in evident earnest, attributes
its success to the few words of commendation with
which we had prefaced it in this paper. It will
throw light on his sane character to give a literal
copy of the note :

"FORDHAM, April 20, 1849.

"My DEAR WILLIS — The poem which I inclose,
and which I am so vain as to hope you will like, in
some respects, has been just published in a paper for
which sheer necessity compels me to write, now and
then. It pays well as times go — but unquestionably
it ought to pay ten prices; for whatever I send it I
feel I am consigning to the tomb of the Capulets.
The verses accompanying this, may I beg you to
take out of the tomb, and bring them to light in the
'Home Journal ?' If you can oblige me so far as to
copy them, I do not think it will be necessary to

34 Death of Poe

say 'From the ,' that would be too bad; and,

perhaps, 'From a late paper/ would do. ^

"I have not forgotten how a 'good word in sea-
son' from you made The Raven/ and made 'Ula-
lume' (which by-the-way, people have done me the
honor of attributing to you), therefore, I would ask
you (if I dared) to say something of these lines
if they please you.

"Truly yours ever,

"EDGAR A. POE/'

In double proof of his earnest disposition to do
the best for himself, and of the trustful and grateful
nature which has been denied him, we give another
of the only three of his notes which we chance to
retain :

"FORDHAM, January 22, 1848.

"Mv DEAR MR. WILLIS — I am about to make
an effort at re-establishing myself in the literary
world, and feel that I may depend upon your aid.

"My general aim is to start a Magazine, to be
called The Stylus/ but it would be useless to me,
even when established, if not entirely out of the
control of a publisher. I mean, therefore, to get up
a journal which shall be my own at all points. With
this end in view, I must get a list of at least five
hundred subscribers to begin with ; nearly two hun-
dred I have already. I propose, however, to go
South and West, among my personal and literary
friends — old college and West Point acquaintances
— and see what I can do. In order to get the means
of taking the first step, I propose to lecture at the
Society Library, on Thursday, the 3d of February,
and, that there may be no cause of squabbling, my

Death of Poe 35

subject shall not be literary at all. I have chosen a
broad text: The Universe/

"Having- thus given you the facts of the case, I
leave all the rest to the suggestions of your own tact
and generosity. Gratefully, most gratefully,
"Your friend always,

"EDGAR A. POE/'

Brief and chance-taken as these letters are, we
think they sufficiently prove the existence of the very
qualities denied to Mr. Poe — humility, willingness
to persevere, belief in another's friendship, and capa-
bility of cordial and grateful friendship! Such he
assuredly was when sane. Such only he has invari-
ably seemed to us, in all we have happened person-
ally to know of him, through a friendship of five or
six years. And so much easier is it to believe what
we have seen and known, than what we hear of
only, that we remember him but with admiration
and respect ; these descriptions of him, when morally
insane, seeming to us like portraits, painted in sick-
ness, of a man we have only known in health.

But there is another, more touching, and far more
forcible evidence that there was goodness in Edgar
A. Poe. To reveal it, we are obliged to venture
upon the lifting of the veil which sacredly covers
grief and refinement in poverty ; but we think it may
be excused, if so we can brighten the memory of the
poet, even were there not a more needed and im-
mediate service which it may render to the nearest
link broken by his death.

Our first knowledge of Mr. Poe's removal to this
city was by a call which we received from a lady
who introduced herself to us as the mother of his

36 Death of Poe

wife She was in search of employment for him,
and she excused her errand by mentioning that he-
was ill, that her daughter was a confirmed invalid,
and that their circumstances were such as com-
pelled her taking it upon herself. The countenance
of this lady, made beautiful and saintly with an evi-
dently complete giving up of her life to privation
and sorrowful tenderness, her gentle and mournful
voice urging its plea, her long-forgotten . but habit-
ually and unconsciously refined manners, and her
appealing and yet appreciative mention of the claims
and abilities of her son, disclosed at once the pres-
ence of one of those angels upon earth that women
in adversity can be. It was a hard fate that she
was watching over. Mr. Poe wrote with fastidious
difficulty, and in a style too much above the popular
level to be well paid. He was always in pecuniary
difficulty, and, with his sick wife, frequently in want
of the merest necessaries of life. Winter after win-
ter, for years, the most touching sight to us, in this
whole city, has been that tireless minister to genius,
thinly and insufficiently clad, going from office to
office with a poem, or an article on some literary
subject, to sell, sometimes simply pleading in a
broken voice that he was ill, and begging for him,
mentioning nothing but that "he was ill," whatever
might be the reason for his writing nothing, and
never, amid all her tears and recitals of distress,
suffering one syllable to escape her lips that could
convey a doubt of him, or a complaint, or a lessen-
ing of pride in his genius and good intentions. Her
daughter died a year and a half since, but she did
not desert him. She continued his ministering
angel — living with him, caring for him, guarding

Death of Poe 37

him against exposure, and when he was carried
away by temptation, amid grief and the loneliness
of feelings tmreplied to, and awoke from his self-
abandonment prostrated in destitution and suffer-
ing, begging for him still. If woman's devotion,
born with a first love, and fed with human passion,
hallow its object, as it is allowed to do, what does
not a devotion like this — pure, disinterested and
holy as the watch of an invisible spirit — say for
him who inspired it?

We have a letter before us, written by this lady,
Mrs. Clemm, on the morning in which she heard of
the death of this object of her untiring care. It is
merely a request that we would call upon her, but
we will copy a few of its words — sacred as its pri-
vacy is — to warrant the truth of the picture we
have drawn above, and add force to the appeal we
wish to make for her:

"I have this morning heard of the death of my
darling Eddie. . . . Can you give me any cir-
cumstances or particulars ? . . . Oh ! do not desert
your poor friend in his bitter affliction! . . . Ask

Mr. to come, as I must deliver a message to

him from my poor Eddie. ... I need not ask you
to notice his death and to speak well of him. I
know you will. But say what an affectionate son
he was to me, his poor desolate mother. . . ."

To hedge round a grave with respect, what choice
is there, between the relinquished wealth and hon-
ors of the world, and the story of such a woman's
unrewarded devotion ! Risking what we do, in del-
icacy, by making it public, we feel — other reasons

38 Death of Poe

aside — that it betters the world to make known that
there are such ministrations to its erring and gifted.
What we have said will speak to some hearts. There
are those who will be glad to know how the lamp,
whose light of poetry has beamed on their far-away
recognition, was watched over with care and pain,
that they may send to her, who is more darkened
than they by its extinction, some token of their sym-
pathy. She is destitute and alone. If any, far or
near, will send to us what may aid and cheer her
through the remainder of her life, we will joyfully
place it in her hands.

THE UNPARALLELED ADVENTURE OF
ONE HANS PFAALL

With a heart of furious fancies,

Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,

To the wilderness I wander.

— Tom o' Bedlam's Song

BY late accounts from Rotterdam, that city seems
to be in a high state of philosophical excite-
ment. Indeed, phenomena have there occurred of
a nature so completely unexpected — so entirely novel
— so utterly at variance with preconceived opinions
— as to leave no doubt on my mind that long ere
this all Europe is in an uproar, all physics in a fer-
ment, all reason and astronomy together by the
ears.

It appears that on the day of (I am

not positive about the date), a vast crowd of peo-
ple, for purposes not specifically mentioned, were
assembled in the great square of the Exchange in
the well-conditioned city of Rotterdam. The day
was warm — unusually so for the season — there was
hardly a breath of air stirring; and the multitude
were in no bad humor at being now and then be-
sprinkled with friendly showers of momentary dura-
tion that fell from large white masses of cloud pro-
fusely distributed about the blue vault of the firma-

(39)

40 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ment. Nevertheless, about noon, a slight but re-
markable agitation became apparent in the assembly :
the clattering of ten thousand tongues succeeded;"
and, in an instant afterward, ten thousand faces
were upturned toward the heavens, ten thousand
pipes descended simultaneously from the corners of
ten thousand mouths, and a shout, which could be
compared to nothing but the roaring of Niagara,
resounded long, loudly, and furiously, through all
the city and through all the environs of Rotterdam.
The origin of this hubbub soon became sufficiently
evident. From behind the huge bulk of one of
those sharply defined masses of cloud already men-
tioned, was seen slowly to emerge into an open area
of blue space, a queer, heterogeneous, but appar-
ently solid substance, so oddly shaped, so whimsi-
cally put together, as not to be in any manner com-
prehended, and never to be sufficiently admired, by
the host of sturdy burghers who stood open-mouthed
below. What could it be? In the name of all
the devils in Rotterdam, what could it possibly por-
tend ? No one knew ; no one could imagine ; no one
— not even the burgomaster Mynheer Superbus Von
Underduk — had the slightest clew by which to un-
ravel the mystery; so, as nothing more reasonable
could be done, every one to a man replaced his. pipe
carefully in the corner of his mouth, and maintain-
ing an eye steadily upon the phenomenon, puffed,
paused, waddled about, and grunted significantly—

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 41

then waddled back, grunted, paused, and finally —
puffed again.

In the meantime, however, lower and still lower
toward the goodly city, came the object of so much
curiosity, and the cause of so much smoke. In a
very few minutes it arrived near enough to be ac-
curately discerned. It appeared to be — yes ! it was
undoubtedly a species of balloon ; but surely no such
balloon had ever been seen in Rotterdam before.
For who, let me ask, ever heard of a balloon manu-
factured entirely of dirty newspapers? No man in
Holland certainly ; yet here, under the very noses of
the people, or rather at some distance above their
noses, was the identical thing in question, and com-
posed, I have it on the best authority, of the precise
material which no one had ever before known to be
used for a similar purpose. It was an egregious in-
sult to the good sense of the burghers of Rotterdam.
As tolHe"sEape~of the phenomenon, it was even still
more reprehensible. Being little or nothing better
than a huge fool's-cap turned upside down. And
this similitude was regarded as by no means less-
ened when, upon nearer inspection, the crowd saw
a large tassel depending from its apex, and, around
the upper rim or base of the cone, a circle of little
instruments, resembling sheep-bells, which kept up
a continual tinkling to the tune of Betty Martin.
But still worse. — Suspended by blue ribbons to the
end of this fantastic machine, there hung, by way of

42 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

car, an enormous drab beaver hat, with a brim su-
perlatively broad7 and a hemispherical crown with
a black band and a silver buckle. It is, however,
somewhat remarkable that many citizens of Rotter-
dam swore to having seen the same hat repeatedly
before; and indeed the whole assembly seemed to
regard it with eyes of familiarity; while the vrow
Grettel Pfaall, upon sight of it, uttered an exclama-
tion of joyful surprise, and declared it to be the
identical hat of her good man himself. Now, this
was a circumstance the more to be observed, as
Pfaall, with three companions, had actually disap-
peared from Rotterdam about five years before, in
a very sudden and unaccountable manner, and up
to the date of this narrative all attempts at obtain-
ing intelligence concerning them had failed. To be
sure, some bones which were thought to be human,
mixed up with a quantity of odd-looking rubbish,
had been lately discovered in a retired situation to
the east of the city; and some people went so far
as to imagine that in this spot a foul murder had
been committed, and that the sufferers were in all
probability Hans Pfaall and his associates. But to
return.

The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now
descended to within a hundred feet of the earth,
allowing the crowd below a sufficiently distinct view
of the person of its occupant. This was in truth a
very singular somebody. He could not have been

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 43

more than two feet in height; but this altitude, lit-
tle as it was, would have been sufficient to destroy t
his equilibrium, and tilt him over the edge of his
tiny car, but for the intervention of a circular rim
reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on to tHe
cords of the balloon. The body of the little man
was no more than proportionally broad, giving to
his entire figure a rotundity highly absurd. His
feet, of course, could not be seen at all. His hands
were enormously large. His hair was gray, and
collected into a queue behind. His nose was pro-
digiously long, crooked, and inflammatory; his eyes
full, brilliant, and acute; his chin and cheeks, al-
though wrinkled with age, were broad, puffy, and
double; but of ears of any kind there was not a
semblance to be discovered upon any portion of his
head. This odd little gentleman was dressed in a
loose surtout of sky-blue satin, with tight breeches
to match, fastened with silver buckles at the knees.
His vest was of some bright yellow material; a
white taffety cap was set jauntily on one side of his
head; and, to complete his equipment, a blood-red
silk handkerchief enveloped his throat, and fell
down, in a dainty manner, upon his bosom, in a
fantastic bow-knot of super-eminent dimensions.

Having descended, as I said before, to about one
hundred feet from the surface of the earth, the lit-
tle old gentleman was suddenly seized with a fit
of trepidation, and appeared disinclined to make any

44 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

nearer approach to terra firma. Throwing out,
therefore, a quantity of sand from a canvas bag,
which he lifted with great difficulty, he became sta-
tionary in an instant. He then proceeded, in a hur-
ried and agitated manner, to extract from a side-
pocket in his surtout a large morocco pocket-book.
This he poised suspiciously in his hand, then eyed it
with an air of extreme surprise, and was evidently
astonished at its weight. He at length opened it,
and drawing therefrom a huge letter sealed with
red sealing-wax and tied carefully with red tape, let
it fall precisely at the feet of the burgomaster, Su-
perbus Von Underduk. His Excellency stooped to
take it up. But the aeronaut, still greatly discom-
posed, and having apparently no further business to
detain him in Rotterdam, began at this moment to
make busy preparations for departure; and it being
necessary to discharge a portion of ballast to enable
him to reascend, the half dozen bags which he threw
out, one after another, without taking the trouble
to empty their contents, tumbled, every one of them,
most unfortunately, upon the back of the burgomas-
ter, and rolled him over and over no less than half
a dozen times, in the face of every individual in Rot-
terdam. It is not to be supposed, however, that the
great Underduk suffered this impertinence on the
part of the little old man to pass off with impunity.
It is said, on the contrary, that during each of his
Half dozen circumvolutions he emitted no less than

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 45

half a dozen distinct and furious whiffs from his
pipe, to which he held fast the whole time with all
his might, and to which he intends holding fast
(God willing) until the day of his decease.

In the meantime the balloon arose like a lark,
and, soaring far away above the city, at length
drifted quietly behind a cloud similar to that from
which it had so oddly emerged, and was thus lost
forever to the wondering eyes of the good citizens of
Rotterdam. All attention was now directed to the
letter, the descent of which, and the consequences
attending thereupon, had proved so fatally subver-
sive of both person and personal dignity to his Ex-
cellency, Von Underduk. That functionary, how-
ever, had not failed, during his circumgyratory
movements, to bestow a thought upon the impor-
tant object of securing the epistle, which was seen,
upon inspection, to have fallen into the most proper
hands, being actually addressed to himself and Pro-
fessor Rubadub, in their official capacities of Presi-
dent and Vice-President of the Rotterdam College
of Astronomy. It was accordingly opened by those
dignitaries upon the spot, and found to contain the
following extraordinary, and indeed very serious,
communication :

"To their Excellencies Von Underduk and Rubadub,
President and Vice-President of the States' Col-
lege of Astronomers, in the city of Rotterdam.
"Your Excellencies may perhaps be able to re-

46 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

member a humble artisan, by name Hans Pfaall,
and by occupation a mender of bellows, who, with
three others, disappeared from Rotterdam, about five
years ago, in a manner which must have been con-
sidered unaccountable. If, however, it so please
your Excellencies, I, the writer of this communica-
tion, am the identical Hans Pfaall himself. It is
well known to most of my fellow-citizens, that for
the period of forty years I continued to occupy
the little square brick building, at the head of the
alley called Sauerkraut, in which I resided at the
time of my disappearance. My ancestors have also
resided therein time out of mind — they, as well as
myself, steadily following the respectable and indeed
lucrative profession of mending of bellows : for, to
speak the truth, until of late years, that the heads
of all the people have been set agog with politics,
no better business than my own could an honest
citizen of Rotterdam either desire or deserve.
Credit was good, employment was never wanting,
and there was no lack of either money or goodwill.
But, as I was saying, we soon began to feel the
effects of liberty and long speeches, and radicalism,
and all that sort of thing. People who were for-
merly the best customers in the world, had now not
a moment of time to think of us at all. They had
as much as they could do to read about the revolu-
tions, and keep up with the march of intellect and
the spirit of the age. If a fire wanted fanning, it

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 47

could readily be fanned with a newspaper; and as
the government grew weaker, I have no doubt that
leather and iron acquired durability in proportion —
for, in a very short time, there was not a pair of
bellows in all Rotterdam that ever stood in need
of a stitch or required the assistance of a hammer.
This was a state of things not to be endured. I
soon grew as poor as a rat, and, having a wife and
children to provide for, my burdens at length became
intolerable, and I spent hour after hour in reflect-
ing upon the most convenient method of putting an
end to my life. Duns, in the meantime, left me lit-
tle leisure for contemplation. My house was lit-
erally besieged from morning till night. There were
three fellows in particular who worried me beyond
endurance, keeping watch continually about my door,
and threatening me with the law. Upon these three
I vowed the bitterest revenge, if ever I should be so
happy as to get them within my clutches ; and I be-
lieve nothing in the world but the pleasure of this
anticipation prevented me from putting my plan of
suicide into immediate execution, by blowing my
brains out with a blunderbuss. I thought it best,
however, to dissemble my wrath, and to treat them
with promises and fair words, until, by some good
turn of fate, an opportunity of vengeance should be
afforded me.

"One day, having given them the slip, and feeling
more than usually dejected, I continued for a long

48 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

time to wander about the most obscure streets with-
out object, until at length I chanced 'to stumble
against the corner of a bookseller's stall. Seeing a
chair close at hand, for the use of customers, I
-threw myself doggedly into it, and, hardly knowing
why, opened the pages of the first volume which came
within my reach. It proved to be a small pamphlet
treatise on Speculative Astronomy, written either
by Professor Encke of Berlin or by a Frenchman of
somewhat similar name. I had some little tincture
of information on matters of this nature, and soon
became more and more absorbed in the contents of
the book — reading it actually through twice before I
awoke to a recollection of what was passing around
me. By this time it began to grow dark, and I di-
rected my steps toward home. But the treatise (in
conjunction with a discovery in pneumatics, lately
communicated to me as an important secret, by a
cousin from Nantz) had made an indelible impres-
sion on my mind, and, as I sauntered along the dusky
streets, I revolved carefully over in my memory the
wild and sometimes unintelligible reasonings of the
writer. There are some particular passages which
affected my imagination in an extraordinary man-
ner. The longer I meditated upon these, the more
intense grew the interest which had been excited
within me. The limited nature of my education in
general, and more especially my ignorance on sub-
jects connected with natural philosophy, so far from

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 49

rendering me diffident of my own ability to compre-
hend what I had read, or inducing me to mistrust
the many vague notions which had arisen in conse-
quence, merely served as a further stimulus to imagi-
nation; and I was vain enough, or perhaps reason-
able enough, to doubt whether those crude ideas
which, arising in ill-regulated minds, have all the
appearance, may not often in effect possess all the
force, the reality, and other inherent properties, of
instinct or intuition.

"It was late when I reached home, and I went
immediately to bed. My mind, however, was too
much occupied to sleep, and I lay the whole night
buried in meditation. Arising early in the morn-
ing, I repaired eagerly to the bookseller's stall, and
laid out what little ready money I possessed, in the
purchase of some volumes of "Mechanics and Prac-
tical Astronomy." Having arrived at home safely
with these, I devoted every spare moment to their
perusal, and soon made such proficiency in studies
of this nature as I thought sufficient for the execu-
tion of a certain design with which either the Devil
or my better genius had inspired me. In the inter-
vals of this period, I made every endeavor to concili-
ate the three creditors who had given me so much
annoyance. In this I finally succeeded — partly by
selling enough of my household furniture to satisfy
a moiety of their claim, and partly by a promise of
paying the balance upon completion of a little project

50 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

which I told them I had in view, and for assistance
in which I solicited their services. By these means
(for they were ignorant men) I found little difficulty
in gaining them over to my purpose.

"Matters being thus arranged, I contrived, by the
aid of my wife and with the greatest secrecy and
caution, to dispose of what property I had remain-
ing, and to borrow, in small sums, under various
pretences, and without giving any attention (I am
ashamed to say) to my future means of repayment,
no inconsiderable quantity of ready money. With
the means thus accruing I proceeded to procure at
intervals, cambric muslin, very fine, in pieces of
twelve yards each; twine; a lot of the varnish of
caoutchouc ; a large and deep basket of wicker-work,
made to order; and several other articles necessary
in the construction and equipment of a balloon of
extraordinary dimensions. This I directed my wife
to make up as soon as possible, and gave her all
requisite information as to the particular method of
proceeding. In the meantime I worked up the
twine into network of sufficient dimensions; rigged
it with a hoop and the necessary cords; and made
purchase of numerous instruments and materials
for experiment in the upper regions of the upper
atmosphere.

I then took opportunities of conveying by night,
to a most retired situation east of Rotterdam, five
iron-bound casks, to contain about fifty gallons

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 51

each, and one of a larger size; six tin tubes,

three inches in diameter, properly shaped, and ten
feet in length; a quantity of a particular metallic
substance, or semi-metal, which I shall not name,
and a dozen demijohns of a very common acid. The
gas to be formed from these latter materials is a
gas never yet generated by any other person than
myself — or at least never applied to any similar
purpose. I can only venture to say here, that it is
a constituent of azote, so long considered irreduci-
ble, and that its density is about 37.4 times less tKan
that of hydrogen. It is tasteless, but not odorless;
burns, when pure, with a greenish flame ; and is in-
stantaneously fatal to animal life. Its full secret I
would make no difficulty in disclosing, but that it of
right belongs (as I have before hinted) to a citizen
of Nantz, in France, by whom it was conditionally
communicated to myself. The same individual sub-
mitted to me, without being at all aware of my in-
tentions, a method of constructing balloons from the
membrane of a certain animal, through which sub-
stance any escape of gas was nearly an impossibil-
ity. I found it, however, altogether too expensive,
and was not sure, upon the whole, whether cambric
muslin, with a coating of gum caoutchouc, was not
equally as good. I mention this circumstance, be-
cause I think it probable that hereafter the individ-
ual in question may attempt a balloon ascension with
the novel gas and material I have spoken of and

52 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

I do not wish to deprive him of the honor of a very
singular invention.

"On the spot which I intended each of the smaller
casks to occupy respectively during the inflation of
the balloon, I privately dug a small hole; the holes
forming in this manner a circle twenty-five feet in
diameter. In the centre of this circle, being the
station designed for the large cask, I also dug a
hole of greater depth. In each of the five smaller
holes, I deposited a canister containing fifty pounds,
and in the larger one a keg holding one hundred and
fifty pounds, of cannon powder. These — the keg
and canisters — I connected in a proper manner with
covered trains ; and having let into one of the canis-
ters the end of about four feet of slow-match, I
covered up the hole, and placed the cask over it, leav-
ing the other end of the match protruding about
an inch, and barely visible beyond the cask. I then
filled up the remaining holes, and placed the barrels
over them in their destined situation !

"Besides the articles above enumerated, I con-
veyed to the depot, and there secreted, one of M.
Grimm's improvements upon the apparatus for con-
densation of the atmospheric air. I found this ma-
chine, however, to require considerable alteration
before it could be adapted to the purposes to which
I intended making it applicable. But, with severe
labor and unremitting perseverance, I at length met
with entire success in all my preparations. My

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 53

balloon was soon completed. It would contain
more than forty thousand cubic feet of gas; would
take me up easily, I calculated, with all my imple-
ments, and, if I managed rightly, with one hun-
dred and seventy-five pounds of ballast into the bar-
gain. It had received three coats of varnish, and I
found the cambric muslin to answer all the purposes
of silk itself, being quite as strong and a good deal
less expensive.

"Everything being now ready, I exacted from my
wife an oath of secrecy in relation to all my actions
from the day of my first visit to the bookseller's
stall; and promising, on my part, to return as soon
as circumstances would permit, I gave her what
little money I had left, and bade her farewell. In-
deed, I had no fear on her account. She was what
people call a notable woman, and could manage mat-
ters in, the world without my assistance. I believe,
to tell the truth, she always looked upon me as an
idle body — a mere make-weight — good for nothing
but building castles in the air — and was rather glad
to get rid of me. It was a dark night when I bade
her good-by, and taking with me, as aides-de-camp,
the three creditors who had given me so much
trouble, we carried the balloon, with the car and
accoutrements, by a roundabout way, to the station
where the other articles were deposited. We there
found them all unmolested, and I proceeded imme-
diately to business.

54 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"It was the first of April. The night, as I said
before, was dark; there was not a star to be seen;
and a drizzling rain, falling at intervals, rendered us
very uncomfortable. But my chief anxiety was con-
cerning the balloon, which, in spite of the varnish
with which it was defended, began to grow rather
heavy with the moisture; the powder also was li-
able to damage. I therefore kept my three duns
working with great diligence, pounding down ice
around the central cask, and stirring the acid in the
others. They did not cease, however, importuning
me with questions as to what I intended to do with
all this apparatus, and expressed much dissatisfac-
tion at the terrible labor I made them undergo.
They could not perceive (so they said) what good
was likely to result from their getting wet to the
skin, merely to take a part in such horrible incan-
tations. I began to get uneasy, and worked away
with all my might, for I verily believe the idiots
supposed that I had entered into a compact with the
Devil, and that, in short, what I was now doing was
nothing better than it should be. I was, therefore,
in great fear of their leaving me altogether. I con-
trived, however, to pacify them by promises of pay-
ment of all scores in full, as soon as I could bring
the present business to a termination. To these
speeches they gave, of course, their own interpreta-
tion; fancying, no doubt, that at all events I should
come into possession of vast quantities of ready

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 55

money; and provided I paid them all I owed, and a
trifle more, in consideration of their services, I dare
say they cared very little what became of either my
soul or my carcass.

"In about four hours and a half I found the bal-
loon sufficiently inflated. I attached the car, there-
fore, and put all my implements in it : a telescope, a
barometer, with some important modifications; a
thermometer; an electrometer; a compass; a mag-
netic needle; a seconds watch; a bell; a speaking-
trumpet, etc., etc., etc.; also a globe of glass, ex-
hausted of air, and carefully closed with a stopper —
not forgetting the condensing apparatus, some un-
slacked lime, a stick of sealing-wax, a copious sup-
ply of water, and a large quantity of provisions, such
as pemmican, in which much nutriment is contained
in comparatively little bulk. I also secured in the
car a pair of pigeons and a cat.

"It was now nearly daybreak, and I thought it
high time to take my departure. Dropping a lighted
cigar on the ground, as if by accident, I took the
opportunity, in stooping to pick it up, of igniting
privately the piece of slow-match, the end of which,
as I said before, protruded a little beyond the lower
rim of one of the smaller casks. This manoeuvre
was totally unperceived on the part of the three
duns ; and, jumping into the car, I immediately cut
the single cord which held me to the earth, and was
pleased to find that I shot upward with inconceiv-

56 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

able rapidity, carrying with all ease one hundred
and seventy-five pounds of leaden ballast, and able
to have carried up as many more. As I left the
earth, the barometer stood at thirty inches, and the
centigrade thermometer at 19°.

"Scarcely, however, had I attained the height of
fifty yards, when, roaring and rumbling up after me
in the most tumultuous and terrible manner, came
so dense a hurricane of fire, and gravel, and burn-
ing wood, and blazing metal, and mangled limbs,
that my very heart sunk within me, and I fell down
in the bottom of the car, trembling with terror. In-
deed, I now perceived that I had entirely overdone
the business, and that the main consequences of the
shock were yet to be experienced. Accordingly,
in less than a second, I felt all the blood in my body
rushing to my temples, and immediately thereupon,
a concussion, which I shall never forget, burst
abruptly through the night, and seemed to rip the
very firmament asunder. When I afterward had
time for reflection, I did not fail to attribute the ex-
treme violence of the explosion, as regarded myself,
to its proper cause — my situation directly above it,
and in the line of its greatest power. But at the
time, I thought only of preserving my life. The bal-
loon at first collapsed, then furiously expanded, then
whirled round and round with sickening velocity,
and finally, reeling and staggering like a drunken
man, hurled me over the rim of the car, and left me

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 57

dangling, at a terrific height, with my head down-
ward, and my face outward, by a piece of slender
cord about three feet in length, which hung acci-
dentally through a crevice near the bottom of the
wicker-work, and in which, as I fell, my left foot be-
came most providentially entangled. It is impos-
sible— utterly impossible — to form any adequate idea
of the horror of my situation. I gasped convul-
sively for breath — a shudder resembling a fit of the
ague agitated every nerve and muscle in my frame —
I felt my eyes starting from their sockets — a horri-
ble nausea overwhelmed me — and at length I lost all
consciousness in a swoon.

"How long I remained in this state it is impossi-
ble to say. It must, however, have been no incon-
siderable time, for when I partially recovered the
sense of existence, I found the day breaking, the bal-
loon at a prodigious height over a wilderness of
ocean, and not a trace of land to be discovered far
and wide within the limits of the vast horizon. My
sensations, however, upon thus recovering, were by
no means so replete with agony as might have been
anticipated. Indeed, there was much of madness
in the calm survey which I began to take of my
situation. . I drew up to my eyes each of my hands,
one after the other, and wondered what occurrence
could have given rise to the swelling of the veins,
and the horrible blackness of the finger-nails. I
afterward carefully examined my head, shaking it

58 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

repeatedly, and feeling it with minute attention, un-
til I succeeded in satisfying myself that it was not,
as I had more than half suspected, larger than my
balloon. Then, in a knowing manner, I felt in both
my breeches pockets, and, missing therefrom a set of
tablets and a toothpick case, endeavored to account
for their disappearance, and not being able to do so,
felt inexpressibly chagrined. It now occurred to me
that I suffered great uneasiness in the joint of my
left ankle, and a dim consciousness of my situation
began to glimmer through my mind. But, strange
to say ! I was neither astonished nor horror-stricken.
If I felt any emotion at all, it was a kind of chuck-
ling satisfaction at the cleverness I was about to dis-
play in extricating myself from this dilemma; and
never, for a moment, did I look upon my ultimate
safety as a question susceptible of doubt. For a few
minutes I remained wrapped in the profoundest med-
itation. I have a distinct recollection of frequently
compressing my lips, putting my forefinger to the
side of my nose, and making use of other gesticula-
tions and grimaces common to men who, at ease in
their armchairs, meditate upon matters of intricacy
or importance. Having, as I thought, sufficiently
collected my ideas, I now, with great caution and
deliberation, put my hands behind my back, and un-
fastened the large iron buckle which belonged to the
waistband of my pantaloons. This buckle had three
teeth, which, being somewhat rusty, turned with

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 59

great difficulty on their axis. I brought them, how-
ever, after some trouble, at right angles to the body
of the buckle, and was glad to find them remain firm
in that position. Holding within my teeth the in-
strument thus obtained, I now proceeded to untie the
knot of my cravat. I had to rest several times be-
fore I could accomplish this manoeuvre ; but it was at
length accomplished. To one end of the cravat I
then made fast the buckle, and the other end I tied,
for greater security, tightly around my wrist. Draw-
ing now my body upward, with a prodigious exer-
tion of muscular force, I succeeded, at the very first
trial, in throwing the buckle over the car, and en-
tangling it, as I had anticipated, in the circular rim
of the wicker-work.

"My body was now inclined toward the side of
the car, at an angle of about forty-five degrees ; but
it must not be understood that I was therefore only
forty-five degrees below the perpendicular. So far
from it, I still lay nearly level with the plane of the
horizon ; for the change of situation which I had ac-
quired, had forced the bottom of the car considerably
outward from my position, which was accordingly
one of the most imminent peril. It should be re-
membered, however, that when I fell, in the first in-
stance, from the car, if I had fallen with my face
turned toward the balloon, instead of turned out-
wardly from it, as it actually was ; or if, in the sec-
ond place, the cord by which I was suspended had

60 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

chanced to hang over the upper edge, instead of
through a crevice near the bottom of the car — I say
it may readily be conceived that, in either of these
supposed cases, I should have been unable to ac-
complish even as much as I had now accomplished,
and the disclosures now made would have been ut-
terly lost to posterity. I had therefore every reason
to be grateful ; although, in point of fact, I was still
too stupid to be anything at all, and hung for, per-
haps, a quarter of an hour, in that extraordinary
manner, without making the slightest further exer-
tion, and in a singularly tranquil state of idiotic en-
joyment. But this feeling did not fail to die rapidly
away, and thereunto succeeded horror, and dismay,
and a sense of utter helplessness and ruin. In fact,
the blood so long accumulating in the vessels of my
head and throat, and which had hitherto buoyed up
my spirits with delirium, had now begun to retire
within their proper channels, and the distinctness
which was thus added to my perception of the dan-
ger, merely served to deprive me of the self-posses-
sion and courage to encounter it. But this weak-
ness was, luckily for me, of no very long duration.
In good time came to my rescue the spirit of despair,
and, with frantic cries and struggles, I jerked my
way bodily upward, till at length, clutching with a
vise-like grip the long-desired rim, I writhed my per-
son over it, and fell headlong and shuddering within
the car.

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 61

"It was not until some time afterward that I re-
covered myself sufficiently to attend to the ordinary
cares of the balloon. I then, however, examined it
with attention, and found it, to my great relief, un-
injured. My implements were all safe, and, fortu-
nately, I had lost neither ballast nor provisions. In-
deed, I had so well secured them in their places,
that such an accident was entirely out of the ques-
tion. Looking at my watch, I found it six o'clock.
I was still rapidly ascending, and the barometer gave
a present altitude of three and three-quarter miles.
Immediately beneath me in the ocean lay a small
black object, slightly oblong in shape, seemingly
about the size of a domino, and in every respect
bearing a great resemblance to one of those toys.
Bringing my telescope to bear upon it, I plainly
discerned it to be a British ninety-four-gun ship,
close-hauled, and pitching heavily in the sea with
her head to the W. S. W. Besides this ship, I saw
nothing but the ocean and the sky, and the sun,
which had long arisen.

"It is now high time that I should explain to your
Excellencies the object of my voyage. Your Ex-
cellencies will bear in mind that distressed circum-
stances in Rotterdam had at length driven me to the
resolution of committing suicide. It was not, how-
ever, that to life itself I had any positive disgust,
but that I was harassed beyond endurance by the
adventitious miseries attending my situation. In

62 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

this state of mind, wishing to live, yet wearied with
life, the treatise at the stall of the bookseller, backed
by the opportune discovery of my cousin of Nantz,
opened a resource to my imagination. I then finally
made up my mind. I determined to depart, yet live
— to leave the world, yet continue to exist — in short,
to drop enigmas, I resolved, let what would ensue,
to force a passage, if I could, to the moon. Now,
lest I should be supposed more of a madman than I
actually am, I will detail, as well as I am able, the
considerations which led me to believe that an
achievement of this nature, although without doubt
difficult, and full of danger, was not absolutely, to
a bold spirit, beyond the confines of the possible.

"The moon's actual distance from the earth was
the first thing to be attended to. Now, the mean or
average interval between the centres of the two plan-
ets is 59.9643 of the earth's equatorial radii, or only
about 237,000 miles. I say the mean or average in-
terval, but it must be borne in mind that the form of
the moon's orbit being an ellipse of eccentricity
amounting to no less than 0.05484 of the major
semi-axis of the ellipse itself, and the earth's centre
being situated in its focus, if I could, in any manner,
contrive to meet the moon in its perigee, the above-
mentioned distance would be materially diminished.
But, to say nothing at present of this possibility, it
was very certain that, at all events, from the 237,000
miles I would have to deduct the radius of the earth,

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 63

say 4,000, and the radius of the moon, say 1,080, in
all 5,080, leaving an actual interval to be traversed,
under average circumstances, of 231,920 miles.
Now this, I reflected, was no very extraordinary dis-
tance. Travelling on the land has been repeatedly
accomplished at the rate of sixty miles per hour^ and
indeed a much greater speed may be anticipated. But
even at this velocity, it would take me no more than
161 days to reach the surface of the moon. There
were, however, many particulars inducing me to be-
lieve that my average rate of travelling might possi-
bly very much exceed that of sixty miles per hour,
and, as these considerations did not fail to make a
deep impression upon my mind, I will mention them
more fully hereafter.

"The next point to be regarded was one of far
greater importance. From indications afforded by
the barometer, we find that, in ascensions from the
surface of the earth we have, at the height of 1,000
feet, left below us about one-thirtieth of the entire
mass of atmospheric air; that at 10,600 we have
ascended through nearly one-third; and that at
18,000, which is not far from the elevation of Coto-
paxi, we have surmounted one-half the material,
or, at all events, one-half the ponderable, body of
air incumbent upon our globe. It is also calculated
that at an altitude not exceeding the hundreth part
of the earth's diameter — that is, not exceeding eighty
miles — the rarefaction would be so excessive that

64 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

animal life could in no manner be sustained, and,
moreover, that the most delicate means we possess
of ascertaining the presence of the atmosphere would
be inadequate to assure us of its existence. But I
did not fail to perceive that these latter calculations
are founded altogether on our experimental knowl-
edge of the properties of air, and the mechanical
laws regulating its dilation and compression, in what
may be called, comparatively speaking, the immedi-
ate vicinity of the earth itself ; and, at the same time,
it is taken for granted that animal life is and must
be essentially incapable of modification at any given
unattainable distance from the surface. Now, all
such reasoning and from such data must, of course,
be simply analogical. The greatest height ever
reached by man was that of 25,000 feet, attained in
the aeronautic expedition of Messieurs Gay-Lussac
and Biot. This is a moderate altitude, even when
compared with the eighty miles in question; and I
could not help thinking that the subject admitted
room for doubt and great latitude for speculation.
"But, in point of fact, an ascension being made to
any given altitude, the ponderable quantity of air
surmounted in any further ascension is by no means
in proportion to the additional height ascended (as
may be plainly seen from what has been stated be-
fore), but in a ratio constantly decreasing. It is
therefore evident that, ascend as high as we may,
we cannot, literally speaking, arrive at a limit beyond

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 65

which no atmosphere is to be found. It must exist,
I argued ; although it may exist in a state of infinite
rarefaction.

"On the other hand, I was aware that arguments
have not been wanting to prove the existence of a
real and definite limit to the atmosphere, beyond
which there is absolutely no air whatsoever. But a
circumstance which has been left out of view by
those who contend for such a limit, seemed to me,
although no positive refutation of their creed, still
a point worthy of very serious investigation. On
comparing the intervals between the successive ar-
rivals of Encke's comet at its perihelion, after giving
credit, in the most exact manner, for all the disturb-
ances due to the attractions of the planets, it appears
that the periods are gradually diminishing; that is
to say, the major axis of the comet's ellipse is grow-
ing shorter, in a slow but perfectly regular decrease.
Now, this is precisely what ought to be the case, if
we suppose a resistance experienced from the comet
from an extremely rare ethereal medium pervading
the regions of its orbit. For it is evident that such
a medium must, in retarding the comet's velocity,
increase its centripetal, by weakening its centrifugal,
force. In other words, the sun's attraction would
be constantly attaining greater power, and the comet
would be drawn nearer at every revolution. In-
deed, there is no other way of accounting for the
variation in question. But again: — The real di-

66 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ameter of the same comet's nebulosity is observed to
contract rapidly as it approaches the sun, and dilate
with equal rapidity in its departure toward its aphe-
lion. Was I not justfiable in supposing, with M.
Valz, that this apparent condensation of volume has
its origin in the compression of the same ethereal
medium I have spoken of before, and which is dense
in proportion to its vicinity to the sun? The len-
ticular-shaped phenomenon, also called the zodiacal
light, was a matter worthy of attention. This radi-
ance, so apparent in the tropics, and which cannot
be mistaken for any meteoric lustre, extends from
the horizon obliquely upward, and follows generally
the direction of the sun's equator. It appeared to
me evidently in the nature of a rare atmosphere ex-
tending from the sun outward, beyond the orbit of
Venus at least, and I believed indefinitely further.*
Indeed, this medium I could not suppose confined to
the path of the comet's eclipse, or to the immediate
neighborhood of the sun. It was easy, on the
contrary, to imagine it pervading the entire regions
of our planetary system, condensed into what we
call atmosphere at the planets themselves, and per-
haps at some of them modified by considerations
purely geological ; that is to say, modified, or varied
in its proportions (or absolute nature) by matters
volatilized from the respective orbs.

*The zodiacal light is probably what the ancients called
Trabes. Emicant Trabes quos docos vacant.— Pliny lib. 2, p. 26.

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 67

"Having adopted this view of the subject, I had
little further hesitation. Granting that on my pas-
sage I should meet with atmosphere essentially the
same as at the surface of the earth, I conceived that,
by means of the very ingenious apparatus of M.
Grimm, I should readily be enabled to condense it in
sufficient quantity for the purpose of respiration.
This would remove the chief obstacle in a journey
to the moon. I had indeed spent some money and
great labor in adapting the apparatus to the object
intended, and confidently looked forward to its suc-
cessful application, if I could manage to complete the
voyage within any reasonable period. This brings
me back to the rate at which it would be possible
to travel.

"It is true that balloons, in the first stage of their
ascensions from the earth, are known to rise with a
velocity comparatively moderate. Now, the power
of elevation lies altogether in the superior gravity of
the atmospheric air compared with the gas in the
balloon; and, at first sight, it does not appear prob-
able that, as the balloon acquires altitude, and conse-
quently arrives successively in atmospheric strata of
densities rapidly diminishing — I say, it does not
appear at all reasonable that, in this its progress up-
ward, the original velocity should be accelerated.
On the other hand, I was not aware that, in any re-
corded ascension, a diminution had been proved to
be apparent in the absolute rate of ascent; although

68 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

such should have been the case, if on account of
nothing else, on account of the escape of gas through
balloons ill-constructed, and varnished with no bet-
ter material than the ordinary varnish. It seemed,
therefore, that the effect of such escape was only
sufficient to counterbalance the effect of the ac-
celeration attained in the diminishing of the bal-
loon's distance from the gravitating centre. I now
considered that, provided in my passage I found
the medium I had imagined, and provided that it
should prove to be essentially what we denominate
atmospheric air, it could make comparatively little
difference at what extreme state of rarefaction I
should discover it — that is to say, in regard to my
power of ascending — for the gas in the balloon would
not only be itself subject to similar rarefaction (in
proportion to the occurrence of which, I could suffer
an escape of so much as would be requisite to pre-
vent explosion), but, being what it was, would, at all
events, continue specifically lighter than any com-
pound whatever of mere nitrogen and oxygen. Thus
there was a chance — in fact, there was a strong prob-
ability— that, at no epoch of my ascent, I should
reach a point where the united weights of my im-
mense balloon, the inconceivably rare gas within it,
the car, and its contents, should equal the weight
of the mass of the surrounding atmosphere dis-
placed; and this will be readily understood as the
sole condition upon which my upward flight would

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 69

be arrested. But, if this point were even attained,
I could dispense with ballast and other weight to the
amount of nearly three hundred pounds. In the
meantime, the force of gravitation would be con-
stantly diminishing, in proportion to the squares of
the distances, and so, with a velocity prodigiously ac-
celerating, I should at length arrive in those distant
regions where the force of the earth's attraction
would be superseded by that of the moon.

"There was another difficulty, however, which oc-
casioned me some little disquietude. It has been
observed that, in balloon ascensions to any consider-
able height, besides the pain attending respiration,
great uneasiness is experienced about the head and
body, often accompanied with bleeding at the nose,
and other symptoms of an alarming kind, and grow-
ing more and more inconvenient in proportion to
the altitude attained.* This was a reflection of a
nature somewhat startling. Was it not probable
that these symptoms would increase until terminated
by death itself? I finally thought not. Their
origin was to be looked for in the progressive re-
moval of the customary atmospheric pressure upon
the surface of the body, and consequent distention of

*Since the original publication of Hans Pfaall, I find that
Mr. Green, of Nassau-balloon notoriety, and other late aero-
nauts, deny the assertions of Humboldt, in this respect, and
speak of a decreasing inconvenience — precisely in accordance
with the theory here urged.

70 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the superficial blood-vessels — not in any positive dis-
organization of the animal system, as in the case
of difficulty in breathing, where the atmospheric
density is chemically insufficient for the due reno-
vation of blood in a ventricle of the heart. Unless
for default of this renovation, I could see no reason,
therefore, why life could not be sustained even in a
vacuum; for the expansion and compression of
chest, commonly called breathing, is action purely
muscular, and the cause, not the effect, of respira-
tion. In a word, I conceived that, as tHe body
should become habituated to the want of atmos-
pheric pressure, the sensations of pain would grad-
ually diminish — and to endure them while they con-
tinued, I relied with confidence upon the iron hard-
ihood of my constitution.

"Thus, may it please your Excellencies, I have
detailed some, though by no means all, the consid-
erations which led me to form the project of a lunar
voyage. I shall now proceed to lay before you the
result of an attempt so apparently audacious in con-
ception, and, at all events, so utterly unparalleled in
the annals of mankind.

"Having attained the altitude before mentioned—
that is to say, three miles and three quarters — I threw
out from the car a quantity of feathers, and found
that I still ascended with sufficient rapidity; there
was, therefore, no necessity for discharging any bal-
last. I was glad of this, for I wished to retain with

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 71

me as much weight as I could carry, for the obvious
reason that I could not be positive either about the
gravitation or the atmospheric density of the moon.
I as yet suffered no bodily inconvenience, breath-
ing with great freedom, and feeling no pain what-
ever in the head. The cat was lying very demurely
upon my coat, which I had taken off, and eying the
pigeons with an air of nonchalance. These latter
being tied by the leg, to prevent their escape, were
busily employed in picking up some grains of rice
scattered for them in the bottom of the car.

"At twenty minutes past six o'clock, the barometer
showed an elevation of 26,400 feet, or five miles to
a fraction. The prospect seemed unbounded. In-
deed, it is very easily calculated by means of spher-
ical geometry, how great an extent of the earth's
area I beheld. The convex surface of any segment
of a sphere is, to the entire surface of the sphere it-
self, as the versed sine of the segment to the diame-
ter of the sphere. Now, in my case, the versed sine
— that is to say, the thickness of the segment be-
neath me — was about equal to my elevation, or the
elevation of the point of sight above the surface.
'As five miles, then, to eight thousand/ would ex-
press the proportion of the earth's area seen by me.
In other words, I beheld as much as a sixteen-
hundredth part of the whole surface of the globe.
The sea appeared unruffled as a mirror, although,
by means of the telescope, I could perceive it to be

72 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

in a state of violent agitation. The ship was no
longer visible, having drifted away, apparently to
the eastward. I now began to experience, at inter-
vals, severe pain in the head, especially about the
ears — still, however, breathing with tolerable free-
dom. The cat and pigeons seemed to suffer no in-
convenience whatsoever.

"At twenty minutes before seven, the balloon en-
tered a long series of dense cloud, which put me to
great trouble, by damaging my condensing appara-
tus, and wetting me to the skin ; this was, to be sure,
a singular rencontre, for I had not believed it possible
that a cloud of this nature could be sustained at so
great an elevation. I thought it best, however, to
throw out two five-pound pieces of ballast, reserv-
ing still a weight of one hundred and sixty-five
pounds. Upon so doing, I soon rose above the
difficulty, and perceived immediately that I had ob-
tained a great increase in my rate of ascent. In a
few seconds after my leaving the cloud, a flash of
vivid lightning shot from one end of it to the other,
and caused it to kindle up, throughout its vast ex-
tent, like a mass of ignited charcoal. This, it must
be remembered, was in the broad light of day. No
fancy may picture the sublimity which might have
been exhibited by a similar phenomenon taking place
amid the darkness of the night. Hell itself might
have been found a fitting image. Even as it was,
my hair stood on end, while I gazed afar down with-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 73

in the yawning abysses, letting imagination descend,
and stalk about in the strange vaulted halls, and
ruddy gulfs, and red, ghastly chasms of the hide-
ous and unfathomable fire. I had indeed made a
narrow escape. Had the balloon remained a very
short while longer within the cloud — that is to say,
had not the inconvenience of getting wet deter-
mined me to discharge the ballast — my destruction
might, and probably would, have been the conse-
quence. Such perils, although little considered, are
perhaps the greatest which must be encountered in
balloons. I had by this time, however, attained too
great an elevation to be any longer uneasy on this
head.

"I was now rising rapidly, and by seven o'clock
the barometer indicated an altitude of no less than
nine miles and a half. I began to find great diffi-
culty in drawing my breath. My head, too, was
excessively painful ; and, having felt for some time a
moisture about my cheeks, I at length discovered
it to be blood, which was oozing quite fast from the
drums of my ears. My eyes, also, gave me great
uneasiness. Upon passing the hand over them they
seemed to have protruded from their sockets in no
inconsiderable degree; and all objects in the car, and
even the balloon itself, appeared distorted to my vis-
ion. These symptoms were more than I had ex-
pected, and occasioned me some alarm. At this
juncture, very imprudently, and without considera-

I-Poe-4

74 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

tion, I threw out from the car three five-pound pieces
of ballast. The accelerated rate of ascent thus ob-
tained, carried me too rapidly, and without suffi-
cient gradation, into a highly rarefied stratum of
the atmosphere, and the result had nearly proved
fatal to my expedition and to myself. I was sud-
denly seized with a spasm which lasted for more than
five minutes, and even when this, in a measure,
ceased, I could catch my breath only at long inter-
vals, and in a gasping manner — bleeding all the
while copiously at the nose and ears, and even
slightly at the eyes. The pigeons appeared dis-
tressed in the extreme, and struggled to escape;
while the cat mewed piteously, and, with her tongue
hanging out of her mouth, staggered to and fro in
the car as if under the influence of poison. I now
too late discovered the great rashness of which I
had been guilty in discharging the ballast, and my
agitation was excessive. I anticipated nothing less
than death, and death in a few minutes. The physi-
cal suffering I underwent contributed also to render
me nearly incapable of making any exertion for the
preservation of my life. I had, indeed, little power
of reflection left, and the violence of the pain in my
head seemed to be greatly on the increase. Thus I
found that my senses would shortly give way alto-
gether, and I had already clutched one of the valve
ropes with the view of attempting a descent, when
the recollection of the trick I had played the three

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 75

creditors, and the possible consequences to myself,
should I return, operated to deter me for the mo-
ment. I lay down in the bottom of the car, and en-
deavored to collect my faculties. In this I so far
succeeded as to determine upon the experiment of
losing blood. Having no lancet, however, I was
constrained to perform the operation in the best
manner I was able, and finally succeeded in opening
a vein in my left arm, with the blade of my pen-
knife. The blood had hardly commenced flowing
when I experienced a sensible relief, and by the time
I had lost about half a moderate basinful, most of
the worst symptoms had abandoned me entirely. I
nevertheless did not think it expedient to attempt
getting on my feet immediately ; but; having tied up
my arm as well as I could, I lay still for about a
quarter of an hour. At the end of this time I arose,
and found myself freer from absolute pain of any
kind than I had been during the last hour and a
quarter of my ascension. The difficulty of breath-
ing, however, was diminished in a very slight de-
gree, and I found that it would soon be positively
necessary to make use of my condenser. In the
meantime, looking toward the cat, who was again
snugly stowed away upon my coat, I discovered to
my infinite surprise, that she had taken the oppor-
tunity of my indisposition to bring into light a litter
of three little kittens. This was an addition to the
number of passengers on my part altogether unex-

76 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

pected; but I was pleased at the occurrence. It
would afford me a chance of bringing to a kind of
test the truth of a surmise, which, more than any-
thing else, had influenced me in attempting this as-
cension. I had imagined that the habitual endur-
ance of the atmospheric pressure at the surface of
the earth was the cause, or nearly so, of the pain at-
tending animal existence at a distance above the sur-
face. Should the kittens be found to suffer uneasi-
ness in an equal degree with their mother, I must
consider my theory in fault, but a failure to do so
I should look upon as a strong confirmation of my
idea.

"By eight o'clock I had actually attained an ele-
vation of seventeen miles above the surface of the
earth. Thus it seemed to me evident that my rate
of ascent was not only on the increase, but that the
progression would have been apparent in a slight
degree even had I not discharged the ballast which
I did. The pains in my head and ears returned, at
intervals, with violence, and I still continued to
bleed occasionally at the nose; but, upon the whole,
I -suffered much less than might have been expected.
I breathed, however, at every moment, with more
and more difficulty, and each inhalation was at-
tended with a troublesome spasmodic action of the
chest. I now unpacked the condensing apparatus,
and got it ready for immediate use.

"The view of the earth, at this period of my ascen-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 77

sion, was beautiful indeed. To the westward, the
northward, and the southward, as far as I could see,
lay a boundless sheet of apparently unruffled ocean,
which every moment gained a deeper and deeper
tint of blue. At a vast distance to the eastward, al-
though perfectly discernible, extended the islands of
Great Britain, the entire Atlantic coasts of France
and Spain, with a small portion of the northern part
of the continent of Africa. Of individual edifices
not a trace could be discovered, and the proudest
cities of mankind had utterly faded away from the
face of the earth.

"What mainly astonished me, in the appearance
of things below, was the seeming concavity of the
surface of the globe. I had, thoughtlessly enough,
expected to see its real convexity become evident as
I ascended ; but a very little reflection sufficed to ex-
plain the discrepancy. A line dropped from my po-
sition perpendicularly to the earth, would have
formed the perpendicular of a right-angled triangle,
of which the base would have extended from the
right-angle to the horizon, and the hypothenuse from
the horizon to my position. But my height was lit-
tle or nothing in comparison with my prospect In
other words, the base and hypothenuse of the sup-
posed triangle would, in my case, have been so long,
when compared to the perpendicular, that the two
former might have been regarded as nearly parallel.
In this manner the horizon of the aeronaut appears

78 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

always to be upon a level with the car. But as the
point immediately beneath him seems, and is, at a
great distance below him, it seems, of course, also
at a great distance below the horizon. Hence the
impression of concavity; and this impression must
remain, until the elevation shall bear so great a
proportion to the prospect, that the apparent par-
allelism of the base and hypothenuse disappears.

"The pigeons about this time seeming to undergo
much suffering, I determined upon giving them
their liberty. I first untied one of them, a beauti-
ful gray-mottled pigeon, and placed him upon the
rim of the wicker-work. He appeared extremely
uneasy, looking anxiously around him, fluttering his
wings, and making a loud cooing noise, but could
not be persuaded to trust himself from the car. I
took him up at last, and threw him to about half a
dozen yards from the balloon. He made, however,
no attempt to descend as I had expected, but strug-
gled with great vehemence to get back, uttering at
the same time very shrill and piercing cries. He at
length succeeded in regaining his former station on
the rim, but had hardly done so when his head
dropped upon his breast, and he fell dead within the
car. The other one did not prove so unfortunate.
To prevent his following the example of his com-
panion, and accomplishing a return, I threw him
downward with all my force, and was pleased to
find him continue his descent, with great velocity,

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 79

making use of his wings with ease, and in a perfectly
natural manner. In a very short time he was out of
sight, and I have no doubt he reached home in
safety. Puss, who seemed in a great measure re-
covered from her illness, now made a hearty meal of
the dead bird, and then went to sleep with much
apparent satisfaction. Her kittens were quite lively,
and so far evinced not the slightest sign of any un-
easiness.

"At a quarter past eight, being no longer able to
draw breath without the most intolerable pain, I
proceeded forthwith to adjust around the car the
apparatus belonging to the condenser. This appa-
ratus will require some little explanation, and your
Excellencies will please to bear in mind that my ob-
ject, in the first place, was to surround myself and
car entirely with a barricade against the highly rare-
fied atmosphere in which I was existing, with the
intention of introducing within this barricade, by
means of my condenser, a quantity of this same at-
mosphere sufficiently condensed for the purposes of
respiration. With this object in view I had pre-
pared a very strong, perfectly air-tight, but flexible
gum-elastic bag. In this bag, which was of suffi-
cient dimensions, the entire car was in a manner
placed. That is to say, it (the bag) was drawn over
the whole bottom of the car, up its sides, and so on,
along the outside of the ropes, to the upper rim or
hoop where the network is attached. Having pulled

8o Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the bag up in this way, and formed a complete en-
closure on all sides, and at bottom, it was now nec-
essary to fasten up its top or mouth, by passing its
material over the hoop of the network — in other
words, between the network and the hoop. But if
the network were separated from the hoop to admit
this passage, what was to sustain the car in the
meantime? Now, the network was not perma-
nently fastened to the hoop, but attached by a series
of running loops or nooses. I therefore undid only
a few of these loops at one time, leaving the car
suspended by the remainder. Having thus inserted
a portion of the cloth forming the upper part of the
bag, I refastened the loops — not to the hoop, for that
would have been impossible, since the cloth now
intervened — but to a series of large buttons, affixed
to the cloth itself, about three feet below the mouth
of the bag; the intervals between the buttons having
been made to correspond to the intervals between the
loops. This done, a few more of the loops were
unfastened from the rim, a further portion of the
cloth introduced, and the disengaged loops then con-
nected with their proper buttons. In this way it
was possible to insert the whole upper part of the
bag between the network and the hoop. It is evi-
dent that the hoop would now drop down within the
car, while the whole weight of the car itself, with
all its contents, would be held up merely by the
strength of the buttons. This, at first sight, would

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 81

seem an inadequate dependence; but it was by no
means so, for the buttons were not only very strong
in themselves, but so close together that a very slight
portion of the whole weight was supported by any
one of them. Indeed, had the car and contents been
three times heavier than they were, I should not
have been at all uneasy. I now raised up the hoop
again within the covering of gum-elastic, and proped
it at nearly its former height by means of three
light poles prepared for the occasion. This was
done, of course, to keep the bag distended at the top,
and to preserve the lower part of the network in its
proper situation. All that now remained was to
fasten up the mouth of the inclosure; and this was
readily accomplished by gathering the folds of the
material together, and twisting them up very tightly
on the inside by means of a kind of stationary
tourniquet.

"In the sides of the covering thus adjusted round
the car, had been inserted three circular panes of
thick but clear glass, through which I could see
without difficulty around me in every horizontal di-
rection. In that portion of the cloth forming the
bottom was, likewise, a fourth window, of the
same kind, and corresponding with a small aperture
in the floor of the car itself. This enabled me to see
perpendicularly down, but having found it impos-
sible to place any similar contrivance overhead, on
account of the peculiar manner of closing up the

82 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

opening there, and the consequent wrinkles in the
cloth, I could expect to see no objects situated di-
rectly in my zenith. This, of course, was a matter
of little consequence; for, had I even been able to
place a window at top, the balloon itself would have
prevented my making any use of it.

"About a foot below one of the side windows was
a circular opening, three inches in diameter, and
fitted with a brass rim adapted in its inner edge to
the windings of a screw. In this rim was screwed
the large tube of the condenser, the body of the ma-
chine being, of course, within the chamber of gum-
elastic. Through this tube a quantity of the rare
atmosphere circumjacent being drawn by means of
a vacuum created in the body of the machine, was
thence discharged, in a state of condensation, to min-
gle with the thin air already in the chamber. This
operation being repeated several times, at length
filled the chamber with atmosphere proper for all
the purposes of respiration; but in so confined a
space it would, in a short time, necessarily become
foul, and unfit for use from frequent contact with
the lungs. It was then ejected by a small valve at
the bottom of the car — the dense air readily sinking
into the thinner atmosphere below. To avoid the
inconvenience of making a total vacuum at any mo-
ment within the chamber, this purification was never
accomplished all at once, but in a gradual manner
— the valve being opened only for a few seconds,

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 83

then closed again, until one or two strokes from the
pump of the condenser had supplied the place of the
atmosphere ejected. For the sake of experiment I
had put the cat and kittens in a small basket, and
suspended it outside the car to a button at the bot-
tom, close by the valve, through which I could feed
them at any moment when necessary. I did this
at some little risk, and before closing the mouth of
the chamber, by reaching under the car with one of
the poles before mentioned to which a hook had
been attached. As soon as dense air was admitted
in the chamber, the hoop and poles became unneces-
sary the expansion of the enclosed atmosphere pow-
erfully distending the gum-elastic.

"By the time I had fully completed these ar-
rangements and filled the chamber as explained, it
wanted only ten minutes of nine o'clock. During
the whole period of my being thus employed, I en-
dured the most terrible distress from difficulty of
respiration, and bitterly did I repent the negligence
or rather foolhardiness, of which I had been guilty.
of putting off to the last moment a matter of so
much importance. But having at length accom-
plished it, I soon began to reap the benefit of my
invention. Once again I breathed with perfect
freedom and ease — and indeed why should I not?
I was also agreeably surprised to find myself, in
a great measure, relieved from the violent pains
which had hitherto tormented me. A slight head-

84 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ache, accompanied with a sensation of fulness or
distention about the wrists, the ankles, and the
throat, was nearly all of which I had now to com-
plain. Thus it seemed evident that a greater part
of the uneasiness attending the removal of atmos-
pheric pressure had actually worn off, as I had ex-
pected, and that much of the pain endured for the
last two hours should have been attributed alto-
gether to the effects of a deficient respiration.

"At twenty minutes before nine o'clock — that is
to say, a short time prior to my closing up the
mouth of the chamber, the mercury attained its
limit, or ran down, in the barometer, which, as I
mentioned before, was one of an extended construc-
tion. It then indicated an altitude, on my part, of
132,000 feet, or five-and-twenty miles, and I conse-
quently surveyed at that time an extent of the
earth's area amounting to no less than the three-
hundred-and-twentieth part of its entire superficies.
At nine o'clock I had again lost sight of land to the
eastward, but not before I became aware that the
balloon was drifting rapidly to the N. N. W. The
ocean beneath me still retained its apparent concav-
ity, although my view was often interrupted by the
masses of cloud which floated to and fro.

"At half past nine I tried the experiment of throw-
ing out a handful of feathers through the valve.
They did not float as I had expected; but dropped
down perpendicularly, like a bullet, en masse, and

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 85

with the greatest velocity — being out of sight in a
very few seconds. I did not at first know what to
make of this extraordinary phenomenon; not being
able to believe that my rate of ascent had, of a sud-
den, met with so prodigious an acceleration. But
it soon occurred to me that the atmosphere was now
far too rare to sustain even the feathers; that they
actually fell, as they appear to do, with great rapid-
ity j and that I had been surprised by the united ve-
locities of their descent and my own elevation.

"By ten o'clock I found that I had very little to
occupy my immediate attention. Affairs went swim-
mingly, and I believed the balloon to be going up-
ward with a speed increasing momently, although
I had no longer any means of ascertaining the pro-
gression of the increase. I suffered no pain or un-
easiness of any kind, and enjoyed better spirits than
I had at any period since my departure from Rot-
terdam ! busying myself now in examining the state
of my various apparatus, and now in regenerating
the atmosphere within the chamber. This latter
point I determined to attend to at regular intervals
of forty minutes, more on account of the preserva-
tion of my health, than from so frequent a renova-
tion being absolutely necessary. In the meanwhile
I could not help making anticipations. Fancy rev-
elled in the wild and dreamy regions of the moon.
Imagination, feeling herself for once unshackled,
roamed at will among the ever-changing wonders of

86 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

a shadowy and unstable land. Now there were
hoary and time-honored forests, and craggy preci-
pices, and waterfalls tumbling with a loud noise
into abysses without a bottom. Then I came sud-
denly into still noonday solitudes, where no wind
of heaven ever intruded, and where vast meadows
of poppies, and slender, lily-looking flowers spread
themselves out a weary distance, all silent and mo-
tionless forever. Then again I journeyed far down
away into another country where it was all one dim
and vague lake, with a boundary line of clouds.
But fancies such as these were not the sole pos-
sessors of my brain. Horrors of a nature most stern
and most appalling would too frequently obtrude
themselves upon my mind, and shake the innermost
depths of my soul with the bare supposition of their
possibility. Yet I would not suffer my thoughts
for any length of time to dwell upon these latter
speculations, rightly judging the real and palpable
dangers of the voyage sufficient for my undivided
attention.

"At five o'clock, P.M., being engaged in regener-
ating the atmosphere within the chamber, I took that
opportunity of observing the cat and kittens through
the valve. The cat herself appeared to suffer again
very much, and I had no hesitation in attributing her
uneasiness chiefly to a difficulty in breathing; but
my experiment with the kittens had resulted very
strangely. I had expected, of course, to see them

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 87

betray a sense of pain, although in a less degree than
their mother; and this would have been sufficient
to confirm my opinion concerning the habitual en-
durance of atmospheric pressure. But I was not
prepared to find them, upon close examination, evi-
dently enjoying a high degree of health, breathing
with the greatest ease and perfect regularity, and
evincing not the slightest sign of any uneasiness.
I could only account for all this by extending my
theory, and supposing that the highly rarefied at-
mosphere around might perhaps not be, as I had
taken for granted, chemically insufficient for the
purpose of life, and that a person born in such a
medium might, possibly, be unaware of any incon-
venience attending its inhalation, while, upon re-
moval to the denser strata near the earth, he might
endure tortures of a similar nature to those I had
so lately experienced. It has since been to me a
matter of deep regret that an awkward accident, at
this time, occasioned me the loss of my little fam-
ily of cats, and deprived me of the insight into this
matter which a continued experiment might have
afforded. In passing my hand through the valve,
with a cup of water for the old puss, the sleeves
of my shirt became entangled in the loop which sus-
tained the basket, and thus, in a moment, loosened
it from the bottom. Had the whole actually van-
ished into air, it could not have shot from my sight
in a more abrupt and instantaneous manner. Posi-

88 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

lively, there could not have intervened the tenth part
of a second between the disengagement of the basket
and its absolute disappearance with all that it con-
tained. My good wishes followed it to the earth,
but, of course, I had no hope that either cat or kit-
tens would ever live to tell the tale of their mis-
fortune.

"At six o'clock, I perceived a great portion of the
earth's visible area to the eastward involved in thick
shadow, which continued to advance with great
rapidity, until, at five minutes before seven, the
whole surface in view was enveloped in the dark-
ness of night. It was not, however, until long after
this time that the rays of the setting sun ceased to
illumine the balloon; and this circumstance, al-
though of course fully anticipated, did not fail to
give me an infinite deal of pleasure. It was evident
that, in the morning, I should behold the rising lu-
minary many hours at least before the citizens of
Rotterdam, in spite of their situation, so much
further to the eastward, and thus, day after day, in
proportion to the height ascended, would I enjoy the
light of the sun for a longer and a longer period.
I now determined to keep a journal of my passage,
reckoning the days from one to twenty-four hours
continuously, without taking into consideration the
intervals of darkness.

"At ten o'clock, feeling sleepy, I determined to
lie down for the rest of the night; but here a dim"-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 89

culty presented itself, which, obvious as it may ap-
pear, had escaped my attention up to the very mo-
ment of which I am now speaking. If I went to
sleep as I proposed, how could the atmosphere in the
chamber be regenerated in the interim ? To breathe
it for more than an hour, at the furthest, would be
a matter of impossibility ; or, if even this term could
be extended to an hour and a quarter, the most ruin-
ous consequences might ensue. The consideration
of this dilemma gave me no little disquietude; and
it will hardly be believed, that, after the dangers I
had undergone, I should look upon this business in
so serious a light as to give up all hope of accom-
plishing my ultimate design, and finally make up my
mind to the necessity of a descent. But this hesita-
tion was only momentary. I reflected that man is
the veriest slave of custom, and that many points in
the routine of his existence are deemed essentially
important, which are only so at all by his having ren-
dered them habitual. It was very certain that I
could not do without sleep ; but I might easily bring
myself to feel no inconvenience from being awak-
ened at intervals of an hour during the whole period
of my repose. It would require but five minutes at
most to regenerate the atmosphere in the fullest
manner — and the only real difficulty was to contrive
a method of arousing myself at the proper moment
for so doing. But this was a question which, I am
willing to confess, occasioned me no little trouble in

90 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

its solution. To be sure, I had heard of the student
who, to prevent his falling asleep over his books,
held in one hand a ball of copper, the din of whose
descent into a basin of the same metal on the floor
beside his chair, served effectually to startle him up,
if, at any moment, he should be overcome with
drowsiness. My own case, however, was very dif-
ferent indeed, and left me no room for any similar
idea; for I did not wish to keep awake, but to be
aroused from slumber at regular intervals of time.
I at length hit upon the following expedient, which,
simple as it may seem, was hailed by me, at the mo-
ment of discovery, as an invention fully equal to that
of the telescope, the steam-engine, or the art of print-
ing itself.

"It is necessary to premise, that the balloon, at
the elevation now attained, continued its course up-
ward with an even and undeviating ascent, and the
car consequently followed with a steadiness so per-
fect that it would have been impossible to detect in
it the slightest vacillation. This circumstance fa-
vored me greatly in the project I now determined
to adopt. My supply of water had been put on
board in kegs containing five gallons each, and
ranged very securely around the interior of the car.
I unfastened one of these, and taking two ropes, tied
them tightly across the rim of the wicker-work from
one side to the other; placing them about a foot
apart and parallel, so as to form a kind of shelf,

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 91

upon which I placed the keg, and steadied it in a
horizontal position. About eight inches immedi-
ately below these ropes, and four feet from the bot-
tom of the car, I fastened another shelf — but made
of thin plank, being the only similar piece of
wood I had. Upon this latter shelf, and exactly be-
neath one of the rims of the keg, a small earthen
pitcher was deposited. I now bored a hole in the
end of the keg over the pitcher, and fitted in a plug
of soft wood, cut in a tapering or conical shape.
This plug I pushed in or pulled out, as might hap-
pen, until, after a few experiments, it arrived at that
exact degree of tightness, at which the water, ooz-
ing from the hole, and falling into the pitcher be-
low, would fill the latter to the brim in the period
of sixty minutes. This, of course, was a matter
briefly and easily ascertained, by noticing the propor-
tion of the pitcher filled in any given time. Hav-
ing arranged all this, the rest of the plan is obvi-
ous. My bed was so contrived upon the floor of the
car, as to bring my head, in lying down, immediately
below the mouth of the pitcher. It was evident
that, at the expiration of an hour, the pitcher, get-
ting full, would be forced to run over, and to run
over at the mouth, which was somewhat lower than
the rim. It was also evident, that the water thus
falling from a height of more - than four feet, could
not do otherwise than fall upon my face, and that
the sure consequences would be, to waken me up

92 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

instantaneously, even from the soundest slumber in
the world.

"It was fully eleven by the time I had completed
these arrangements, and I immediately betook my-
self to bed, with full confidence in the efficiency of
my invention. Nor in this matter was I disap-
pointed. Punctually every sixty minutes was I
aroused by my trusty chronometer, when, having
emptied the pitcher into the bung-hole of the keg,
and performed the duties of the condenser, I retired
again to bed. These regular interruptions to my
slumber caused me even less discomfort than I had
anticipated; and when I finally arose for the day,
it was seven o'clock, and the sun had attained many
degrees above the line of my horizon.

"April 3d. I found the balloon at an immense
height indeed, and the earth's convexity had now
become strikingly manifest. Below me in the ocean
lay a cluster of black specks, which undoubtedly
were islands. Overhead, the sky was of a jetty
black, and the stars were brilliantly visible; indeed,
they had been so constantly since the first day of
ascent. Far away to the northward I perceived a
thin, white, and exceedingly brilliant line, or streak,
on the edge of the horizon, and I had no hesitation
in supposing it to be the southern disk of the ices
of the Polar Sea. My curiosity was greatly ex-
cited, for I had hopes of passing on much further to
the north, and might possibly, at some period, find

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 93

myself placed directly above the Pole itself. I now
lamented that my great elevation would, in this case,
prevent my taking as accurate a survey as I could
wish. Much, however, might be ascertained.

"Nothing else of an extraordinary nature oc-
curred during the day. My apparatus all continued
in good order, and the balloon still ascended without
any perceptible vacillation. The cold was intense,
and obliged me to wrap up closely in an overcoat.
When darkness came over the earth, I betook my-
self to bed, although it was for many hours after-
ward broad daylight all around my immediate situ-
ation. The water-clock was punctual in its duty,
and I slept until next morning soundly, with the ex-
ception of the periodical interruption.

"April 4th. "Arose in good health and spirits, and
was astonished at the singular change which had
taken place in the appearance of the sea. It had lost,
in a great measure, the deep tint of blue it had hith-
erto worn, being now of a grayish-white, and of a
lustre dazzling to the eye. The convexity of the
ocean had become so evident, that the entire mass
of the distant water seemed to be tumbling head-
long over the abyss of the horizon, and I found my-
self listening on tiptoe for the echoes of the mighty
cataract. The islands were no longer visible;
whether they had passed down the horizon to the
southeast, or whether my increasing elevation had
left them out of sight, it is impossible to say. I was

94 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

inclined, however, to the latter opinion. The rim
of ice to the northward was growing more and more
apparent. Cold by no means so intense. Nothing
of importance occurred, and I passed the day in
reading, having taken care to supply myself with
books.

"April 5th. Beheld the singular phenomenon of
the sun rising while nearly the whole visible surface
of the earth continued to be involved in darkness.
In time, however, the light spread itself over all,
and I again saw the line of ice to the northward. It
was now very distinct, and appeared of a much
darker hue than the waters of the ocean. I was
evidently approaching it, and with great rapidity.
Fancied I could again distinguish a strip of land to
the eastward, and one also to the westward, but
could not be certain. Weather moderate. Noth-
ing of any consequence happened during the day.
Went early to bed.

"April 6th. Was surprised at finding the rim of
ice at a very moderate distance, and an immense
field of the same material stretching away off to
the horizon in the north. It was evident that if the
balloon held its present course, it would soon ar-
rive above the Frozen Ocean, and I had now little
doubt of ultimately seeing the Pole. During the
whole of the day I continued to near the ice. To-
ward night the limits of my horizon very suddenly
and materially increased, owing undoubtedly to the

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 95

earth's form being that of an oblate spheroid, and
my arriving above the flattened regions in the vicin-
ity of the Arctic Circle. When darkness at length
overtook me, I went to bed in great anxiety, fear-
ing to pass over the object of so much curiosity when
I should have no opportunity of observing it.

"April 7th. Arose early, and, to my great joy.
at length beheld what there could be no hesitation
in supposing the northern Pole itself. It was there,
beyond a doubt, and immediately beneath my feet;
but, alas ! I had now ascended to so vast a distance,
that nothing could with accuracy be discerned. In-
deed, to judge from the progression of the numbers
indicating my various altitudes, respectively, at dif-
ferent periods, between six A. M. on the second of
April, and twenty minutes before nine A. M. of the
same day (at which time the barometer ran down),
it might be fairly inferred that the balloon had now,
at four o'clock in the morning of April the sev-
enth, reached a height of not less, certainly, than
7,254 miles above the surface of the sea. This ele-
vation may appear immense, but the estimate upon
which it is calculated gave a result in all probability
far inferior to the truth. At all events, I undoubt-
edly beheld the whole of the earth's major diameter ;
the entire northern hemisphere lay beneath me like
a chart orthographically projected: and the great
circle of the equator itself formed the boundary line
of my horizon. Your Excellencies may, however..

96 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

readily imagine that the confined regions hitherto
unexplored within the limits of the Arctic Circle, al-
though situated directly beneath me, and therefore
seen without any appearance of being foreshortened,
were still, in themselves, comparatively too diminu-
tive, and at too great a distance from the point of
sight, to admit of any very accurate examination.
Nevertheless, what could be seen was of a nature
singular and exciting. Northwardly from that
huge rim before mentioned, and which, with slight
qualification, may be called the limit of human dis-
covery in these regions, one unbroken, or nearly un-
broken, sheet of ice continues to extend. In the
first few degrees of this its progress, its surface is
very sensibly flattened, further on depressed into a
plane, and finally, becoming not a little concave, it
terminates, at the Pole itself, in a circular centre,
sharply defined, whose apparent diameter subtended
at the balloon an angle of about sixty-five seconds,
and whose dusky hue, varying in intensity, was, at
all times, darker than any other spot upon the visi-
ble hemisphere, and occasionally deepened into the
most absolute blackness. Further than this, little
could be ascertained. By twelve o'clock the circular
centre had materially decreased in circumference,
and by seven p. M. I lost sight of it entirely; the
balloon passing over the western limb of the ice, and
floating away rapidly in the direction of the equator.
"April 8th. Found a sensible diminution in the

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 97

earth's apparent diameter, besides a material altera-
tion in its general color and appearance. The whole
visible area partook in different degrees of a tint of
pale yellow, and in some portions had acquired a
brilliancy even painful to the eye. My view down-
ward was also considerably impeded by the dense
atmosphere in the vicinity of the surface being
loaded with clouds, between whose masses I could
only now and then obtain a glimpse of the earth it-
self. This difficulty of direct vision had troubled
me more or less for the last forty-eight hours; but
my present enormous elevation brought closer to-
gether, as it were, the floating bodies of vapor, and
the inconvenience became, of course, more and more
palpable in proportion to my ascent. Nevertheless,
I could easily perceive that the balloon now hov-
ered above the range of great lakes in the continent
of North America, and was holding a course, due
south, which would soon bring me to the tropics.
This circumstance did not fail to give me the most
heartfelt satisfaction, and I hailed it as a happy omen
of ultimate success. Indeed, the direction I had
hitherto taken, had filled me with uneasiness; for it
was evident that, had I continued it much longer,
there would have been no possibility of my arriving
at the moon at all, whose orbit is inclined to the
ecliptic at only the small angle of 5 deg. 8 min. 48
sec. Strange as it may seem, it was only at this
late period that I began to understand the great

98 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

error I had committed, in not taking my departure
from earth at some point in the plane of the lunar
ellipse.

"April 9th. To-day the earth's diameter was
greatly diminished, and the color of the surface as-
sumed hourly a deeper tint of yellow. The bal-
loon kept steadily on her course to the southward,
and arrived, at nine P.M., over the northern edge of
the Mexican Gulf.

"April loth. I was suddenly aroused from slum-
ber, about five o'clock this morning, by a loud,
crackling, and terrific sound, for which I could in
no manner account. It was of very brief duration,
but, while it lasted, resembled nothing in the world
of which I had any previous experience. It is need-
less to say that I became excessively alarmed, hav-
ing, in the first instance, attributed the noise to the
bursting of the balloon. I examined all my appara-
tus, however, with great attention, and could dis-
cover nothing out of order. Spent a great part
of the day in meditating upon an occurrence so ex-
traordinary, but could find no means whatever of
accounting for it. Went to bed dissatisfied, and in
a state of great anxiety and agitation.

"April nth. Found a startling diminution in the
apparent diameter of the earth, and a considerable
increase, now observable for the first time, in that
of the moon itself, which wanted only a few days of
being full. It now required long and excessive

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 99

labor to condense within the chamber sufficient at-
mospheric air for the sustenance of life.

"April 1 2th. A singular alteration took place in
regard to the direction of the balloon, and although
fully anticipated, afforded me the most unequivocal
delight. Having reached, in its former course,
about the twentieth parallel of southern latitude, it
turned off suddenly, at an acute angle, to the east-
ward, and thus proceeded throughout the day, keep-
ing nearly, if not altogether, in the exact plane of
the lunar ellipse. What was worthy of remark, a
very perceptible vacillation in the car was a conse-
quence of this change of route — a vacillation which
prevailed, in a more or less degree, for a period of
many hours.

"April 1 3th. Was again very much alarmed by
a repetition of the loud, crackling noise which terri-
fied me on the tenth. Thought long upon the sub-
ject, but was unable to form any satisfactory con-
clusion. Great decrease in the earth's apparent di-
ameter, which now subtended from the balloon an
angle of very little more than twenty-five degrees.
The moon could not be seen at all, being nearly in
my zenith. I still continued in the plane of the el-
lipse, but made little progress to the eastward.

"April i4th. Extremely rapid decrease in the
diameter of the earth. To-day I became strongly
impressed with the idea that the balloon was now
actually running up the line of apsides to the point

rioo Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of perigee — in other words, holding the direct
course which would bring it immediately to the
moon in that part of its orbit the nearest to the
earth. The moon itself was directly overhead, and
consequently hidden from my view. Great and
long-continued labor necessary for the condensation
of the atmosphere.

"April 1 5th. Not even the outlines of continents
and seas could now be traced upon the earth with
distinctness. About twelve o'clock I became aware,
for the third time, of that appalling sound which
had so astonished me before. It now, however, con-
tinued for some moments, and gathered intensity as
it continued. At length, while, stupefied and terror-
stricken, I stood in expectation of I knew not what
hideous destruction, the car vibrated with excessive
violence, and a gigantic and flaming mass of some
material which I could not distinguish came with
a voice of a thousand thunders roaring and boom-
ing by the balloon. When my fears and astonish-
ment had in some degree subsided, I had little diffi-
culty in supposing it to be some mighty volcanic
fragment ejected from that world to which I was
so rapidly approaching, and, in all probability, one
of that singular class of substances occasionally
picked up on the earth, and termed meteoric stones
for want of a better appellation.

"April 1 6th. To-day, looking upward as well as
I could, through each of the side windows alter-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 101

nately, I beheld, to my great delight, a very small
portion of the moon's disk protruding, as it were,
on all sides beyond the huge circumference of the
balloon. My agitation was extreme; for I had now
little doubt of soon reaching the end of my perilous
voyage. Indeed, the labor now required by the con-
denser, had increased to a most oppressive degree,
and allowed me scarcely any respite from exer-
tion. Sleep was a matter nearly out of the ques-
tion. I became quite ill, and my frame trembled
with exhaustion. It was impossible that human na-
ture could endure this state of intense suffering much
longer. During the now brief interval of darkness
a meteoric stone again passed in my vicinity, and
the frequency of these phenomena began to occasion
me much apprehension.

"April 1 7th. This morning proved an epoch in
my voyage. It will be remembered that, on the
thirteenth, the earth subtended an angular breadth
of twenty-five degrees. On the fourteenth this had
greatly diminished; on the fifteenth a still more re-
markable decrease was observable; and, on retiring
on the night of the sixteenth, I had noticed an angle
of no more than about seven degrees and fifteen min-
utes. What, therefore, must have been my amaze-
ment, on awakening from a brief and disturbed
slumber, on the morning of this day, the seven-
teenth, at finding the surface beneath me so suddenly
and wonderfully augmented in volume, as to sub-

1O2 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

tend no less than thirty-nine degrees in apparent an-
gular diameter! I was thunderstruck! No words
can give any adequate idea of the extreme, the ab-
solute horror and astonishment, with which I was
seized, possessed, and altogether overwhelmed. My
knees tottered beneath me — my teeth chattered — my
hair started up on end. 'The balloon, then, had ac-
tually burst !' These were the first tumultuous ideas
that hurried through my mind: The balloon had
positively burst! — I was falling — falling with the
most impetuous, the most unparalleled velocity ! To
judge by the immense distance already so quickly
passed over, it could not be more than ten minutes,
at the furthest, before I should reach the surface of
the earth, and be hurled into annihilation!' But at
length reflection came to my relief. I paused; I
considered; and I began to doubt. The matter was
impossible. I could not in any reason have so rap-
idly come down. Besides, although I was evidently
approaching the surface below me, it was with a
speed by no means commensurate with the velocity
I had at first conceived. This consideration served
to calm the perturbation of my mind, and I finally
succeeded in regarding the phenomenon in its proper
point of view. In fact, amazement must have fairly
deprived me of my senses, when I could not see the
vast difference, in appearance, between the surface
below me, and the surface of my mother earth. The
latter was indeed over my head, and completely hid-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 103

den by the balloon, while the moon — the moon itself
in all its glory — lay beneath me, and at my feet.

"The stupor and surprise produced in my mind
by this extraordinary change in the posture of af-
fairs, was, perhaps, after all, that part of the ad-
venture least susceptible of explanation. For the
bouleversement in itself was not only natural and
inevitable, but had been long actually anticipated as
a circumstance to be expected whenever I should ar-
rive at that exact point of my voyage where the at-
traction of the planet should be superseded by the
attraction of the satellite — or, more precisely, where
the gravitation of the balloon toward the earth
should be less powerful than its gravitation toward
the moon. To be sure, I arose from a sound slum-
ber, with all my senses in confusion, to the contem-
plation of a very startling phenomenon, and one
which, although expected, was not expected at the
moment. The revolution itself must, of course,
have taken place in an easy and gradual manner,
and it is by no means clear that, had I even been
awake at the time of the occurrence, I should have
been made aware of it by an internal evidence of
an inversion — that is to say, by any inconvenience
or disarrangement, either about my person or about
my apparatus.

"It is almost needless to say that, upon coming
to a due sense of my situation, and emerging from
the terror which had absorbed every faculty of my

104 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

soul, my attention was, in the first place, wholly di-
rected to the contemplation of the general physical
appearance of the moon. It lay beneath me like a
chart — and although I judged it to be still at no in-
considerable distance, the indentures of its surface
were defined to my vision with a most striking and
altogether unaccountable distinctness. The entire
absence of ocean or sea, and indeed of any lake or
river, or body of water whatsoever, struck me, at
first glance, as the most extraordinary feature in its
geological condition. Yet, strange to say, I beheld
vast level regions of a character decidedly alluvial,
although by far the greater portion of the hemi-
sphere in sight was covered with innumerable vol-
canic mountains, conical in shape, and having more
the appearance of artificial than of natural protuber-
ances. The highest among them does not exceed
three and three-quarter miles in perpendicular ele-
vation; but a map of the volcanic districts of the
Campi Phlegraei would afford to your Excellencies
a better idea of their general surface than any un-
worthy description I might think proper to attempt.
The greater part of them were in a state of evident
eruption, and gave me fearfully to understand their
fury and their power, by the repeated thunders of
the miscalled meteoric stones, which now rushed up-
ward by the balloon with a frequency more and
more appalling.

"April 1 8th. To-day I found an enormous in-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 105

crease in the moon's apparent bulk — and the evi-
dently accelerated velocity of my descent began to fill
me with alarm. It will be remembered, that, in the
earliest stage of my speculations upon the possibil-
ity of a passage to the moon, the existence, in its
vicinity, of an atmosphere, dense in proportion to
the bulk of the planet, had entered largely into my
calculations; this, too, in spite of many theories to
the contrary, and, it may be added, in spite of a gen-
eral disbelief in the existence of any lunar atmos-
phere at all. But, in addition to what I have al-
ready urged in regard to Encke's comet and the
zodiacal light, I had been strengthened in my opin-
ion by certain observations of Mr. Schroter, of
Lilienthal. He observed the moon when two days
and a half old, in the evening soon after sunset, be-
fore the dark part was visible, and continued to
watch it until it became visible. The two cusps ap-
peared tapering in a very sharp, faint prolongation,
each exhibiting its furthest extremity faintly illu-
minated by the solar rays, before any part of the
dark hemisphere was visible. Soon afterward, the
whole dark limb became illuminated. This pro-
longation of the cusps beyond the semicircle, I
thought, must have arisen from the refraction of the
sun's rays by the moon's atmosphere. I computed,
also, the height of the atmosphere (which could re-
fract light enough into its dark hemisphere to pro-
duce a twilight more luminous than the light re-

106 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

fleeted from the earth when the moon is about 32°
from the new) to be 1,356 Paris feet; in this view,
I supposed the greatest height capable of refracting
the solar ray, to be 5,376 feet. My ideas on this
topic had also received confirmation by a passage in
the eighty-second volume of the * Philosophical
Transactions/ in which it is stated, that, at an oc-
cultation of Jupiter's satellites, the third disappeared
after having been about i sec. or 2 sec. .of time indis-
tinct, and the fourth became indiscernible near the
limb.*

"Upon the resistance, or, more properly, upon the
support of an atmosphere, existing in the state of
density imagined, I had, of course, entirely depended
for the safety of my ultimate descent. Should I

*Hevelius writes that he has several times found, in skies
perfectly clear, when even stars of the sixth and seventh mag-
nitude were conspicuous, that, at the same altitude of the
moon, at the same elongation from the earth, and with one and
the same excellent telescope, the moon and its maculae did not
appear equally lucid at all times. From the circumstances of
the observation, it is evident that the cause of this phenomenon
is not either in our air, in the tube, in the moon, or in the eye
of the spectator, but must be looked for in something (an
atmosphere?) existing about the moon.

Cassini frequently observed Saturn, Jupiter, and the fixed
stars, when approaching the moon to occultation, to have their
circular figure changed into an oval one ; and, in other occupa-
tions, he found no alteration of figure at all. Hence it might
be supposed, that at some times, and not at others, there is a
dense matter encompassing the moon wherein the rays of the
stars are refracted.

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 107

then, after all, prove to have been mistaken, I had in
consequence nothing better to expect, as a finale to
my adventure, than being dashed into atoms against
the rugged surface of the satellite. And, indeed,
I had now every reason to be terrified. My dis-
tance from the moon was comparatively trifling,
while the labor required by the condenser was di-
minished not at all, and I could discover no indica-
tion whatever of a decreasing rarity in the air.

"April i Qth. This morning, to my great joy,
about nine o'clock, the surface of the moon being
frightfully near, and my apprehension excited to the
utmost, the pump of my condenser at length gave
evident tokens of an alteration in the atmosphere.
By ten, I had reason to believe its density consider-
ably increased. By eleven, very little labor was
necessary at the apparatus; and at twelve o'clock,
with some hesitation, I ventured to unscrew the
tourniquet, when, finding no inconvenience from
having done so, I finally threw open the gum-elastic
chamber, and unrigged it from around the car. As
might have been expected, spasms and violent head-
ache were the immediate consequences of an ex-
periment so precipitate and full of danger. But
these and other difficulties attending respiration, as
they were by no means so great as to put me in
peril of my life, I determined to endure as I best
could, in consideration of my leaving them behind me
momently in my approach to the denser strata near

io8 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the moon. This approach, however, was still im-
petuous in the extreme; and it soon became alarm-
ingly certain that, although I had probably not been
deceived in the expectation of an atmosphere dense
in proportion to the mass of the satellite, still I had
been wrong in supposing this density, even at the
surface, at all adequate to the support of the great
weight contained in the car of my balloon. Yet
this should have been the case, and in an equal
degree as at the surface of the earth, the actual grav-
ity of bodies at either planet supposed in the ratio
of the atmospheric condensation. That it was not
the case, however, my precipitous downfall gave
testimony enough; why it was not so, can only be
explained by a reference to those possible geological
disturbances to which I have formerly alluded. At
all events, I was now close upon the planet, and com-
ing down with the most terrible impetuosity. I lost
not a moment, accordingly, in throwing overboard
first my ballast, then my water-kegs, then my con-
densing apparatus and gum-elastic chamber, and
finally every article within the car. But it was all to
no purpose. I still fell with horrible rapidity, and
was now not more than half a mile from the sur-
face. As a last resource, therefore, having got rid
of my coat, hat, and boots, I cut loose from the bal-
loon the car itself, which was of no inconsiderable
weight, and thus, clinging with both hands to the
network, I had barely time to observe that the

Adventure of Hans Pfaall ^109

whole country, as far as the eye could reach, was
thickly interspersed with diminutive habitations, ere
I tumbled headlong into the very heart of a fantas-
tical-looking city, and into the middle of a vast
crowd of ugly little people, who none of them ut-
tered a single syllable, or gave themselves the least
trouble to render me assistance, but stood, like a
parcel of idiots, grinning in a ludicrous manner, and
eying me and my balloon askant, with their arms set
a-kimbo. I turned from them in contempt, and,
gazing upward at the earth so lately left, and left
perhaps forever, beheld it like a huge, dull, copper
shield, about two degrees in diameter, fixed immov-
ably in the heavens overhead, and tipped on one of
its edges with a crescent border of the most brilliant
gold. No traces of land or water could be discov-
ered, and the whole was clouded with variable spots,
and belted with tropical and equatorial zones.

"Thus, may it please your Excellencies, after a
series of great anxieties, unheard-of dangers, and
unparalleled escapes, I had, at length, on the nine-
teenth day of my departure from Rotterdam, arrived
in safety at the conclusion of a voyage undoubtedly
the most extraordinary, and the most momentous,
ever accomplished, undertaken, or conceived by any
denizen of earth. But my adventures yet remain to
be related. And indeed your Excellencies may well
imagine that, after a residence of five years upon a
planet not only deeply interesting in its own pecufc-

i io Works of Edgar Allan Poe

iar character, but rendered doubly so by its intimate
connection, in capacity of satellite, with the world
inhabited by man, I may have intelligence for the
private ear of the States' College of Astronomers of
far more importance than the details, however won-
derful, of the mere voyage which so happily con-
cluded. This is, in fact, the case. I have much —
very much which it would give me the greatest pleas-
ure to communicate. I have much to say of the
climate of the planet; of its wonderful alternations
of heat and cold; of unmitigated and burning sun-
shine for one fortnight, and more than polar frigid-
ity for the next ; of a constant transfer of moisture,
by distillation like that in vacuo, from the point be-
neath the sun to the point the furthest from it; of a
variable zone of running water ; of the people them-
selves; of their manners, customs, and political in-
stitutions; of their peculiar physical construction;
of their ugliness ; of their want of ears, those useless
appendages in an atmosphere so peculiarly modified ;
of their consequent ignorance of the use and proper-
ties of speech; of their substitute for speech in a
singular method of inter-communication; of the in-
comprehensible connection between each particular
individual in the moon with some particular indi-
vidual on the earth — a connection analogous with,
and depending upon, that of the orbs of the planet
and the satellite, and by means of which the lives and
destinies of the inhabitants of the one are interwoven

Adventure of Hans Pfaall in

with the lives and destinies of the inhabitants of the
other; and above all, if it so please your Excellen-
cies— above all, of those dark and hideous mysteries
which lie in the outer regions of the moon — regions
which, owing to the almost miraculous accordance
of the satellite's rotation on its own axis with its
sidereal revolution about the earth, have never yet
been turned, and, by God's mercy, never shall be
turned, to the scrutiny of the telescopes of man. All
this, and more — much more — would 1 most will-
ingly detail. But, to be brief, I must have my re-
ward. I am pining for a return to my family and
to my home; and as the price of any further com-
munication on my part — in consideration of the
light which I have it in my power to throw upon
many very important branches of physical and meta-
physical science — I must solicit, through the influ-
ence of your honorable body, a pardon for the crime
of which I have been guilty in the death of the cred-
itors upon my departure from Rotterdam. This,
then, is the object of the present paper. Its bearer,
an inhabitant of the moon, whom I have prevailed
upon, and properly instructed, to be my messenger
to the earth, will await your Excellencies' pleasure,
and return to me with the pardon in question, if it
can, in any manner, be obtained.

"I have the honor to be, etc., your Excellencies'
very humble servant,

"HANS PFAALL."

ii2 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Upon finishing the perusal of this very extra-
ordinary document, Professor Rubadub, it is said,
dropped his pipe upon the ground in the extremity
of his surprise, and Mynheer Superbus Von Under-
duk having taken off his spectacles, wiped them, and
deposited them in his pocket, so far forgot both him-
self and his dignity, as to turn round three times
[Upon his heel in the quintessence of astonishment
and admiration. There was no doubt about the mat-
ter— the pardon should be obtained. So at least
swore, with a round oath, Professor Rubadub, and
so finally thought the illustrious Von Underduk, as
he took the arm of his brother in science, and with-
out saying a word, began to make the best of his
way home to deliberate upon the measures to be
adopted. Having reached the door, however, of the
burgomaster's dwelling, the professor ventured to
suggest that as the messenger had thought proper to
disappear — no doubt frightened to death by the sav-
age appearance of the burghers of Rotterdam — the
pardon would be of little use, as no one but a man of
the moon would undertake a voyage to so vast a
distance. To the truth of this observation the bur-
gomaster assented, and the matter was therefore at
an end. Not so, however, rumors and speculations.
The letter, having been published, gave rise to a
variety of gossip and opinion. Some of the over-
wise even made themselves ridiculous by decrying
the whole business as nothing better than a hoax.

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 113

But hoax, with these sort of people, is, I believe,
a general term for all matters above their compre-
hension. For my part, I cannot conceive upon what
data they have founded such an accusation. Let us
see what they say:

Imprimis. That certain wags in Rotterdam have
certain especial antipathies to certain burgomasters
and astronomers.

Secondly. That an odd little dwarf and bottle
conjurer, both of whose ears, for some misde-
meanor, have been cut off close to his head, had
been missing for several days from the neighboring
city of Bruges.

Thirdly. That the newspapers which were stuck
all over the little balloon were newspapers of Hol-
land, and therefore could not have been made in
the moon. They were dirty papers — very dirty —
and Gluck, the printer, would take his bible oath
to their having been printed in Rotterdam.

Fourthly. That Hans Pfaall himself, the drunken
villain, and the three very idle gentlemen styled his
creditors, were all seen, no longer than two or three
days ago, in a tippling house in the suburbs, "having
just returned, with money in their pockets, from a
trip beyond the sea.

Lastly. That it is an opinion very generally re-
ceived, or which ought to be generally received, that
the College of Astronomers in the city of Rotter-
dam, as well as all other colleges in all other parts

ii4 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of the world — not to mention colleges and astrono-
mers in general — are, to say the least of the matter,
not a whit better, nor greater, nor wiser than they
ought to be.

NOTE— Strictly speaking, there is but little similarity be-
tween the above sketchy trifle and the celebrated "Moon-
Story" of Mr. Locke ; but as both have the character of hoaxes
(although the one is in a tone of banter, the other of down-
right earnest), and as both hoaxes are on the same subject,
the moon — moreover, as both attempt to give plausibility by
scientific detail — the author of "Hans Pfaall" thinks it neces-
sary to say, in self-defence, that his own jeu d'esprit was
published in the "Southern Literary Messenger" about three
weeks before the commencement of Mr. L.'s in the "New
York Sun." Fancying a likeness which, perhaps, does not
exist, some of the New York papers copied "Hans Pfaall,"
and collated it with the "Moon-Hoax," by way of detecting
the writer of the one in the writer of the other.

As many more persons were actually gulled by the "Moon-
Hoax" than would be willing to acknowledge the fact, it
may here afford some little amusement to show why no one
should have been deceived — to point out those particulars of
the story which should have been sufficient to establish its
real character. Indeed, however rich the imagination dis-
played in this ingenious fiction, it wanted much of the force
which might have been given it by a more scrupulous attention
to facts and to general analogy. That the public were misled,
even for an instant, merely proves the gross ignorance which
is so generally prevalent upon subjects of an astronomical
nature.

The moon's distance from the earth is, in round numbers,
240,000 miles. If we desire to ascertain how near, apparently,
a lens would bring the satellite (or any distant object), we,
of course, have but to divide the distance by the magnifying
or, more strictly, by the space-penetrating power of the glass.
Mr. L. makes his lens have a power of 42,000 times. By this
divide 240,000 (the moon's real distance), and we have five

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 115

miles and five sevenths, as the apparent distance. No animal
at all could be seen so far; much less the minute points par-
ticularized in the story. Mr. L. speaks about Sir John Her-
schel's perceiving flowers (the Papaver rheas, etc.), and even
detecting the color and the shape of the eyes of small birds.
Shortly before, too, he has himself observed that the lens
would not render perceptible objects of less than eighteen
inches in diameter; but even this, as I have said, is giving
the glass by far too great power. It may be observed, in pass-
ing, that this prodigious glass is said to have been molded
at the glasshouse of Messrs. Hartley and Grant, in Dumbar-
ton; but Messrs. H. and G.'s establishment had ceased opera-
tions for many years previous to the publication of the hoax.

On page 13, pamphlet edition, speaking of "a hairy veil"
over the eyes of a species of bison, the author says: "It im-
mediately occurred to the acute mind of Dr. Herschel that this
was a providential contrivance to protect the eyes of the ani-
mal from the great extremes of light and darkness to which
all the inhabitants of our side of the moon are periodically
subjected." But this cannot be thought a very "acute" ob-
servation of the Doctor's. The inhabitants of our side of the
moon have, evidently, no darkness at all, so there can be noth-
ing of the "extremes" mentioned. In the absence of the sun
they have a light from the earth equal to that of thirteen full
unclouded moons.

The topography throughout, even when professing to ac-
cord with Blunt's Lunar Chart, is entirely at variance with
that or any other lunar chart, and even grossly at variance
with itself. The points of the compass, too, are in inextricable
confusion; the writer appearing to be ignorant that, on a
lunar map, these are not in accordance with terrestrial points ;
the east being to the left, etc.

Deceived, perhaps, by the vague titles, Mare Nubium, Mare
Tranquillitatis, Mare Fsecunditatis, etc., given to the dark spots
by former astronomers, Mr. L. has entered into details re-
garding oceans and other large bodies of water in the moon;
whereas there is no astronomical point more positively ascer-
tained than that no such bodies exist there. In examining the
boundary between light and darkness (in the crescent or gib-
bous moon) where this boundary crosses any of the dark

ii6 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

places, the line of division is found to be rough and jagged;
but, were these dark places liquid, it would evidently be even.

The description of the wings of the man-bat, on page 21, is
but a literal copy of Peter Wilkins' account of the wings of
his flying islanders. This simple fact should have induced
suspicion, at least, it might be thought.

On page 23, we have the following: "What a prodigious in-
fluence must our thirteen times larger globe have exercised
upon this satellite when an embryo in the womb of time, the
passive subject of chemical affinity!" This is very fine; but it
should be observed that no astronomer would have made such
remark, especially to any Journal of Science; for the earth,
in the sense intended, is not only thirteen, but forty-nine times
larger than the moon. A similar objection applies to the
whole of the concluding pages, where, by way of introduction
to some discoveries in Saturn, the philosophical correspond-
ent enters into a minute schoolboy account of that planet —
this to the "Edinburgh Journal of Science!"

But there is one point, in particular, which should have
betrayed the fiction. Let us imagine the power actually pos-
sessed of seeing animals upon the moon's surface — what would
first arrest the attention of an observer from the earth? Cer-
tainly neither their shape, size, nor any other such peculiarity,
so soon as their remarkable situation. They would appear to
be walking, with heels up and head down, in the manner of
flies on a ceiling. The real observer would have uttered an
instant ejaculation of surprise (however prepared by pre-
vious knowledge) at the singularity of their position; the
fictitious observer has not even mentioned the subject, but
speaks of seeing the entire bodies of such creatures, when it
is demonstrable that he could have seen only the diameter of
their heads!

It might as well be remarked, in conclusion, that the size,
and particularly the powers of the man-bats (for example,
their ability to fly in so rare an atmosphere — if, indeed, the
moon have any), with most of the other fancies in regard to
animal and vegetable existence, are at variance, generally, with
all analogical reasoning on these themes; and that analogy
here will often amount to conclusive demonstration. It is,
perhaps, scarcely necessary to add, that all the suggestions at-

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 117

tributed to Brewster and Herschel, in the beginning of the
article, about "a transfusion of artificial light through the
focal object of vision," etc., etc., belong to that species of
figurative writing which comes, most properly, under the de-
nomination of rigmarole.

There is a real and very definite limit to optical discovery
among the stars — a limit whose nature need only be stated to
be understood. If, indeed, the casting of large lenses were
all that is required, man's ingenuity would ultimately prove
equal to the task, and we might have them of any size de-
manded. But, unhappily, in proportion to the increase of size
in the lens, and consequently of space-penetrating power, is the
diminution of light from the object, by diffusion of its rays.
And for this evil there is no remedy within human ability ; for
an object is seen by means of that light alone which proceeds
from itself, whether direct or reflected. Thus the only "arti-
ficial" light which could avail Mr. Locke, would be some
artificial light which he should be able to throw — not upon
the "focal object of vision," but upon the real object to be
viewed — to wit : upon the moon. It has been easily calculated
that, when the light proceeding from a star becomes so dif-
fused as to be as weak as the natural light proceeding from
the whole of the stars, in a clear and moonless night, then
the star is no longer visible for any practical purpose.

The Earl of Ross's telescope, lately constructed in England,
has a speculum with a reflecting surface of 4,071 square
inches; the Herschel telescope having one of only 1,811. The
metal of the Earl of Ross's is 6 feet diameter; it is $l/2 inches
thick at the edges, and 5 at the centre. The weight is 3 tons.
The focal length is 50 feet.

I have lately read a singular and somewhat ingenious little
book, whose title-page runs thus: "L'Homme dans la Ivne, ou
le Voyage Chimerique fait au Monde de la Lvne, nouuelle-
ment decouuert par Dominique Gonzales, Aduanturier Es-
pagnol, autremet dit le Courier volant. Mis en notre langve
par J. B. D. A. Paris, chez Francois Piot, pres la Fontaine de
Saint Benoist. Et chez J. Goignard, au premier pilier de la
grand'salle du Palais, proche les Consultations, MDCXLVII."
Pp. 176.

The writer professes to have translated his work from the

n8 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

English of one Mr. D'Avisson (Davidson?) although there
is a terrible ambiguity in the statement, Q* en ai eu," says
he "1'original de Monsieur D'Avisson, medecin des mieux
versez qui soient aujourd'huy dans la conoissance des Belles
Lettres, et sur tout de la Philosophic Naturelle. Je lui ai
cette obligation entre les autres, de m' auoir non seulement
mis en main ce Livre en anglois, mais encore le Manuscrit du
Sieur Thomas D'Anan, gentilhomme Eccossois, recommand-
able pour sa vertu, sur la version duquel j* advoue que j' ay
tire le plan de la mienne."

After some irrelevant adventures, much in the manner of
Gil Bias, and which occupy the first thirty pages, the author
relates that, being ill during a sea voyage, the crew abandoned
him, together with a negro servant, on the island of St.
Helena. To increase the chances of obtaining food, the two
separate, and live as far apart as possible. This brings about
a training of birds, to serve the purpose of carrier-pigeons be-
tween them. By and by these are taught to carry parcels of
some weight — and this weight is gradually increased. At
length the idea is entertained of uniting the force of a great
number of the birds, with a view to raising the author him-
self. A machine is contrived for the purpose, and we have a
minute description of it, which is materially helped out by a
steel engraving. Here we perceive the Signor Gonzales, with
point ruffles and a huge periwig, seated astride something
which resembles very closely a broomstick, and borne aloft by
a multitude of wild swans (ganzas} who had strings reaching
from their tails to the machine.

The main event detailed in the Signer's narrative depends
upon a very important fact, of which the reader is kept in
ignorance until near the end of the book. The ganzas, with
whom he had become so familiar, were not really denizens
of St. Helena, but of the moon. Thence it had been their cus-
tom, time out of mind, to migrate annually to some portion of
the earth. In proper season, of course, they would return
home; and the author, happening, one day, to require their
services for a short voyage, is unexpectedly carried straight
up, and in a very brief period arrives at the satellite. Here he
finds, among other odd things, that the people enjoy extreme
happiness ; that they have no law; that they die without pain ;

Adventure of Hans Pfaall 119

that they are from ten to thirty feet in height; that they live
five thousand years; that they have an emperor called Irdono-
zur; and that they can jump sixty feet high, when, being out
of the gravitating influence, they fly about with fans.

I cannot forbear giving a specimen of the general philoso-
phy of the volume.

"I must not forget here, that the stars appeared only on
that side of the globe turned toward the moon, and that the
closer they were to it the larger they seemed. I have also
me and the earth. As to the stars, since there was no night
where I was, they always had the same appearance; not
brilliant, as usual, but pale, and very nearly like the moon
of a morning. But few of them were visible, and these ten
times larger (as well as I could judge) than they seem to the
inhabitants of the earth. The moon, which wanted two days
of being full, was of a terrible bigness.

"I must not forget here, that the stars appeared only on
that side of the globe turned toward the moon, and that the
closer they were to it the larger they seemed. I have also
to inform you that, whether it was calm weather or stormy,
I found myself always immediately between the moon and
the earth. I was convinced of this for two reasons — because
my birds always flew in a straight line ; and because whenever
we attempted to rest, we were carried insensibly around the
globe of the earth. For I admit the opinion of Copernicus,
who maintains that it never ceases to revolve from the east to
the west, not upon the poles of the Equinoctial, commonly
called the poles of the world, but upon those of the Zodiac, a
question of which I propose to speak more at length here-
after, when I shall have leisure to refresh my memory in re-
gard to the astrology which I learned at Salamanca when
young, and have since forgotten."

Notwithstanding the blunders italicized, the book is not
without some claim to attention, as affording a naive speci-
men of the current astronomical notions of the time. One of
these assumed, that the "gravitating power" extended but a
short distance from the earth's surface, and, accordingly, we
find our voyager "carried insensibly around the globe," etc.

There have been other "voyages to the moon," but none of
higher merit than the one just mentioned. That of Bergerac

120 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

is utterly meaningless. In the third volume of the "Ameri-
can Quarterly Review" will be found quite an elaborate criti-
cism upon a certain "journey" of the kind in question — a criti-
cism in which it is difficult to say whether the critic most
exposes the stupidity of the book, or his own absurd igno-
rance of astronomy. I forget the title of the work; but the
means of the voyage are more deplorably ill conceived than
are even the ganzas'ol our friend the Signor Gonzales. The
adventurer, in digging the earth, happens to discover a pecul-
iar metal for which the moon has a strong attraction, and
straightway constructs of it a box, which, when cast loose
from its terrestrial fastenings, flies with him, forthwith, to
the satellite. The "Flight of Thomas O'Rourke," is a jeu d'
esprit not altogether contemptible, and has been translated
into German. Thomas, the hero, was, in fact, the game-
keeper of an Irish peer, whose eccentricities gave rise to the
tale. The "flight" is made on an eagle's back, from Hungry
Hill, a lofty mountain at the end of Bantry Bay.

In these various brochures the aim is always satirical; the
theme being a description of Lunarian customs as compared
with ours. In none is there any effort at plausibility in the
details of the voyage itself. The writers seem, in each in-
stance, to be utterly uninformed in respect to astronomy. In
"Hans Pfaall" the design is original, inasmuch as regards an
attempt at verisimilitude, in the application of scientific princi-
ples (so far as the whimsical nature of the subject would
permit), to the actual passage between the earth and the
moon.

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 an-
cient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy;
but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want.
To avoid the mortification consequent upon his dis-
asters, he left New Orleans, the city of his fore-
fathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan's Isl-
and, near Charleston, South Carolina.

This island is a very singular one. It consists of
little else than the 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 sup-
posed, 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 buildings, tenanted, dur-
ing summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust
and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly pal-
metto; but the whole island, with the exception of

I-Poe-6 ( i 2 1 )

122 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

this western point, and a line of hard, white beach
on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth
of the sweet myrtle so much prized by the horti-
culturists of England. The shrub here often attains
the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an
almost impenetrable coppice, burdening 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 un-
usual powers of mind, but infected with misan-
thropy, 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 Swammer-
damm. In these excursions he was usually ac-
companied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had
been manumitted before the reverses of the family,
but who could be induced, 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 improbable that the rela-

The Gold-Bug 123

tives of Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhat
unsettled in intellect, had contrived to instil this ob-
stinacy 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 rare event indeed when a fire is considered neces-
sary. 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 ungrateful
one. I threw off an overcoat, took an armchair 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 sup-
per. 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,

124 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

more than this, he had hunted down and secured,
with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabaeus which he be-
lieved 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 scarabaei at the devil.

"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said
Legrand, "but it's 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, 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 antennae are — "

"Dey 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

(The Gold-Bug 125

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," he said at length, "this will an-
swer;" 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. Jupiter opened it, and a large New-
foundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped
upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses;
for I had shown him much attention during previ-
ous 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
minutes, "this is a strange scarabaeus, I must con-
fess; new to me; never saw anything like it before
— unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, which it

ia6 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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 it-
self, if I am to form any idea of its personal appear-
ance."

"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 blockhead."

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

"The antennae 7" said Legrand, who seemed to
be getting unaccountably warm upon the subject;
"I am sure you must see the antennae. I made them

The Gold-Bug 127

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 with-
out additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his tem-
per; 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
antennae 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 sud-
denly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face
grew violently red — in another 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 furthest corner of
the room. Here again he made an anxious exami-
nation of the paper ; turning it in all directions. He
said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly as-
tonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to ex-
acerbate 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 demeanor; but
his original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared.

128 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As
the evening wore away he became more and more
absorbed in revery, from which no sallies of mine
could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass
the night at the hut, as I had frequently done be-
fore, but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it
proper to take leave. He did not press me to re-
main, 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 dis-
pirited, 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 neber '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 'fin'd 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

The Gold-Bug 129

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 goose? And den
he keep a syphon all de time — "

"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 looked
so berry poorly."

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

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

"How? what do you mean?"

130 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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

"The what?"

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

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

"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, nohow,
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 a piece of it in he mouff
— dat was de way."

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

"I don't think noffin about it — I nose it. What
make him dream 'bout de goole so much, if 'taint
cause he bit by the goole-bug ? Ise heered '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
fortunate circumstance am I to attribute the honor
of a visit from you to-day?"

The Gold-Bug 131

"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 :

"Mv 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 en-
durance, by his well-meant attentions. Would you
believe it? — he had prepared a huge stick, the other
day, with which to chastise me for giving him the
slip, and spending the day, solus, lamong 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.

"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/'

132 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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 pos-
sessed his excitable brain? What "business of the
highest importance," could he possibly have to trans-
act? 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 bot-
tom of the boat in which we were to embark.

"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I in-
quired.

"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 b'lieve '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 ab-

The Gold-Bug 133

sorbed 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 enter-
tained. His countenance was pale even to ghastli-
ness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural
lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health,
I asked him, not knowing what better to say, if he
had yet obtained the scarabaeus from Lieutenant

"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got
it from him the next morning. Nothing should
tempt me to part with that scarabaeus. 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 inexpressibly 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

134 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

shall arrive at the gold of which it is the index.
Jupiter, bring me that scar abacus !"

"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer
trubble dat bug; you mus' git him for your own
self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and
stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass
case in which it was inclosed. It was a beautiful
scarabaeus, 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 extrem-
ity 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 Jupi-
ter 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,
"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 precautions. 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.

The Gold-Bug 135

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slight-
est indication of fever.

"But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Al-
low 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 main land,
and, in this expedition, we shall need the aid of some
person in whom we can confide. You are the only
one we con truts. 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 re-
plied; "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 ab-
sent?"

136 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"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 busi-
ness (good God!) settled to your satisfaction, you
will then return home and follow my advice im-
plicitly, 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 contented himself with the
scarabaeus, 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 ener-
getic measures with a chance of success. In the

The Gold-Bug 137

meantime I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him
in regard to the object of the expedition. Having
succeeded 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 main land, proceeded in a north-
westerly direction, through a tract of country ex-
cessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a hu-
man 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 land-
marks of his own contrivance upon a former occa-
sion.

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours,
and the sun was just setting when we entered a re-
gion 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 so-
lemnity to the scene.

The natural platform to which we had clambered

138 Works of Edgar Allan Foe

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 ap-
proached 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 eber 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

The Gold-Bug 139

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."

"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently
shamed into compliance; "always want for to raise
fuss wid old nigger. Was only funnin, anyhow. Me
f eered 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 Tulipi-
ferum, 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 busi-
ness as virtually accomplished. The risk of the
achievement was, in fact, now over, although the

140 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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.
"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, an-
nouncing that the seventh limb was attained.

"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much ex-
cited, "I want you to work 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 en-

The Gold-Bug 141

tertained 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 pon-
dering upon what was best to be done, Jupiter's
voice was again heard.

"Mos feered 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 sartin — 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 ?"

"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 venture 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.

142 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Spose I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won't
break wid just de weight of 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 the eend, massa — o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-
gol-a-mercy ! 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 ?"

"Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry
curious sarcumstance, pon mv word — dare's a great

The Gold-Bug 143

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 dey ain't no eye lef
at all."

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

"Yes, I knows dat — knows all about 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 !"

144 iWorks of Edgar Allan Poe

During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's per-
son could be seen ; but the beetle, which he Bad suf-
fered to descend, was now visible at the end of the
string, and glistened, like a globe of burnished gold,
in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which
still faintly illumined the eminence upon which we
stood. The scarabaeus 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 circular space, three or four
yards in diameter, just beneath the insect, and, hav-
ing 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 further 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 cir-
cle, about four feet in diameter, described. 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

The Gold-Bug 145

such amusement at any time, and, at that particular
moment, would 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 circumstances, in a personal contest with
his master. I made no doubt that the latter had
been infected with some of the innumerable South-
ern superstitions about money buried, and that his
phantasy had received confirmation by the finding of
the scarabaeus, 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 fa-
vorite 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 opinion
he entertained.

The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work
with a zeal worthy a more rational cause; and, as

I— Poe— 7

146 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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 la-
bors must have appeared to any interloper who, by
chance, might have stumbled upon our whereabout.

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was
said; and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelp-
ings of the dog, who took exceeding interest in our
proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreper-
ous 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 effectually silenced by Jupiter,
who, getting out of the hole with a dogged air of
deliberation, tied the brute's mouth 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 en-
sued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an
end. Legrand, however, although evidently much
disconcerted, wiped his brow thoughtfully and re-
commenced. We had excavated trie entire circle of
four feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged
the limit, and went to the further depth of two feet.
Still nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I

The Gold-Bug 147

sincerely pitied, at length clambered from the pit,
with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon
every feature, and proceeded, 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, be-
gan to gather up his tools. This done, and the dog
having been unmuzzled, we turned in profound si-
lence toward home.

We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direc-
tion, when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to
Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. The aston-
ished 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 clinched teeth — "you in-
fernal 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, plac-
ing his hand upon his right organ of vision, and
holding it there 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, mute-

148 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ly, 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 we reached its foot,
"come here! was the skull nailed to the limb with
the face outward, 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.

" 'Twas 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 west-
ward 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
than in the former instance, was now described, and

The Gold-Bug 149

we again set to work with the spade. I was dread-
fully 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 deliberation, which impressed
me. I dug eagerly, and now and then caught my-
self actually looking, with something that very much
resembled expectation, for the fancied treasure, the
vision of which had demented my unfortunate com-
panion. At a period when such vagaries of thought
most fully possessed me, and when we had been at
work perhaps an hour and a half, we were again in-
terrupted 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 re-
sistance, 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
buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust
of decayed woollen. One or two strokes of a spade
upturned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as
we dug further, three or four loose pieces of gold
and silver coin came to light.

150 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

At 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 for-
ward, having caught 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 mineralizing process — perhaps that of the bi-
chloride 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 en-
deavors served only to disturb the coffer very
slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibil-
ity of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the
sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding
bolts. These we drew back — trembling and pant-
ing with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of in-
calculable value lay gleaming before us. As the
rays of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed

The Gold-Bug 151

upward a glow and a glare, from a confused heap of
gold and of jewels, that absolutely dazzled our eyes.

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with
which I gazed. Amazement was, of course, pre-
dominant. Legrand appeared exhausted with ex-
citement, 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
— thunderstricken. Presently he fell upon his knees
in the pit, and burying his naked arms up to the
elbows in gold, let them there 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 that
sabage kind ob style! Aint you shamed ob your-
self, nigger? — answer me dat!"

It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse
both master and valet to the expediency of remov-
ing the treasure. It was growing late, and it be-
hooved us to make exertion, that we might get
everything housed before daylight. It was diffi-
cult 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 bram-

1 52 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

bles, and the dog left to guard them, with strict or-
ders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretence, to stir
from the spot, nor to open his mouth until our re-
turn. We then hurriedly made for home with the
chest ; reaching the hut in safety, but after excessive
toil, at one o'clock in the morning. Worn out as
we were, it was not in human nature to do more im-
mediately. We rested until two, and had supper;
starting for the hills immediately afterward, 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 bur-
dens, 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
intense excitement of the time denied us repose.
After an unquiet slumber of some three or four
hours' duration, 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

The Gold-Bug 153

coin, there was rather more than four hundred and
fifty thousand dollars— estimating the value of the
pieces, as accurately 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 German money, with a few
English guineas, and some counters, of which we
had never seen specimens before. There were sev-
eral 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 earrings;
rich chains — thirty of these, if I remember; eighty-
three very large and heavy crucifixes ; five gold cen-
sers of great value ; a prodigious golden punch-bowl,
ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bac-
chanalian figures; with two sword-handles exqui-

154 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

sitely embossed, and many other smaller articles
which I can not recollect. The weight of these val-
uables exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds
avoirdupois; and in this estimate I have not in-
cluded 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 timekeepers, valueless ; the works having
suffered, more or less, from corrosion — but all were
richly jewelled 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 examina-
tion, 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
scarabaeus. You recollect, also, that I became quite
vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resem-
bled a death's-head. When you first made this as-
sertion I thought you were jesting; but afterward
I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back of
the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark

The Gold-Bug 155

had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer
at my graphic powers irritated me — for I am con-
sidered 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 re-
member. Well, as I was in the very act of crum-
pling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which
you had been looking, and you may imagine my as-
tonishment 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, pro-
ceeded 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 similarity
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 scarabaeus,

156 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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 coin-
cidences. The mind struggles to establish a con-
nection— a sequence of cause and effect — and, being
unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary pa-
ralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor,
there dawned upon me gradually a conviction which
startled me even far more than the coincidence.
I began distinctly, positively, to remember that
there had been no drawing upon the parchment
when I made my sketch of the scarabaeus. 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 glow-worm-
like conception of that truth which last night's ad-
venture brought to so magnificent a demonstration.
I arose at once, and, putting the parchment securely
away, dismissed all further reflection until I should
be alone.

"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast
asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investi-
gation of the affair. In the first place, I considered

The Gold-Bug 157

the manner in which the parchment had come into
my possession. The spot where we discovered the
scarabaeus was on the coast of the mainland, about
a mile eastward of the island, and but a short dis-
tance above high-water mark. Upon my taking hold
of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to
let it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution,
before seizing the insect, which had flown toward
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 cor-
ner sticking up. Near the spot where we found it.
I observed the remnants of the hull of what ap-
peared to have been a ship's long-boat. The 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 afterward
we turned to go home, and on the way met Lieuten-
ant G . I showed him the insect, and he begged

me to let him take it to the fort. Upon my con-
senting, 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 inspection. Perhaps he dreaded
my changing my mind, and thought it best to make

158 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

sure of the prize at once — you know how enthu-
siastic he is on all subjects connected with Natural
History. At the same time, without being con-
scious 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 de-
tail the precise mode in which it came into my pos-
session; for the circumstances impressed 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 a seacoast, 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 connection?' 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 engage-
ments.

"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and
not paper. Parchment is durable — almost imperish-
able. Matters of little moment are rarely consigned
to parchment ; since, for the mere ordinary purposes
of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well

The Gold-Bug 159

adapted as paper. This reflection Suggested some
meaning — some relevancy — in the death's-head. I
did not fail to observe, also, the form of the parch-
ment. 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 memo-
randum— for a record of something to be long re-
membered 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 connec-
tion between the boat and the skull — since this lat-
ter, according to your own admission, must have
been designed (God only knows how or by whom)
at some period subsequent to your sketching the
scarabaeus?"

"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 scarabaeus, there was no
skull apparent upon the parchment. When I had
completed the drawing I gave it to you, and ob-
served you narrowly 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 hu-
man agency. And nevertheless it was done.

"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to

160 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

remember, and did remember, with entire distinct-
ness, every incident which occurred about the period
in 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 inspect-
ing it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, 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 list-
lessly between your knees, and in close proximity 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 en-
gaged 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. ZafYre,
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

The Gold-Bug 161

at longer or shorter intervals after the material writ-
ten upon cools, but again become apparent upon the
reapplication 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 ca-
loric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately
kindled a fire, and subjected every portion of the
parchment to a glowing heat. At first, the only
effect was the strengthening 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 noth-
ing to do with goats ; they appertain to the farming
interest."

"But I have just 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.

1 62 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"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 sig-
nature, because its position upon the vellum sug-
gested this idea. The death's-head at the corner
diagonally opposite, had, in the same manner, the air
of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely 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 ir-
resistibly 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 belief; — but do you know that Jupiter's silly
words, about the bug being of solid gold, had a re-
markable effect upon my fancy ? And then the series
of accidents and coincidents — these were so very ex-
traordinary. 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 moment 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."

"Well; you have heard, of course, the many

The Gold-Bug 163

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 so continuous-
ly, could have resulted, it appeared to me, only from
the circumstance of the buried treasures still remain-
ing entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for
a time, and afterward reclaimed it, the rumors would
scarcely have reached us in their present unvary-
ing form. You will observe that the stories told
are all about money-seekers, not about money-find-
ers. 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 in-
dicating 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 the treasure had been concealed at
all, and who, busying themselves in vain, because
unguided, attempts to regain it, had 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 themj and you will scarcely

164 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope,
nearly amounting 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 increas-
ing the heat, but nothing appeared. I now thought
it possible that the coating of dirt might have some-
thing to do with the failure : so I carefully rinsed the
parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, hav-
ing done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull
downward, 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 reheated 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:

( ;88«96*?;8)*J( -485) ;5*f2:»$( '4956*2(5*— 4)8f 8* ^069285);)

i ($9 148081 ;8 :8ti ;48f85 ;4)485t5288o6*8i ($9 ;48 ;(88 ;4($?3
4;48)4J;i6i;:i88;t?;"

"But," said I, returning him the slip, "I am as
much in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of

The Gold-Bug 165

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 mean-
ing; but then from what is known of Kidd, I could
not suppose him capable of constructing any of the
more abstruse cryptographs. 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
certain 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 ap-
plication, resolve. In fact, having once established
connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a
thought to the mere difficulty of developing their
import.

"In the present case — indeed, in all cases of se-
cret 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,

1 66 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

depend upon, and are varied by, the genius of the
particular idiom. In general, there is no alterna-
tive but experiment (directed by probabilities) of
every tongue known to him who attempts the solu-
tion, until the true one be attained. But, with the
cipher now before us all 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 Spanish and French, as the tongues
in which a secret of this kind would most naturally
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 cases I
should have commenced with a collation and analy-
sis of the shorter words, and, had a word of a single
letter occurred, as is most likely (a or /, for exam-
ple), I should have considered the solution as as-
sured. 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 characters 8 there are 33.
26.

19.
16.
13-
12.
II.

The Gold-Bug 167

o > . 6.

92 5-

4-
3-

2.
I.

"Now, in English, the letter which most fre-
quently occurs is e. Afterward, the succession runs
thus '.aoidhnrstuycfglmwbkpqxz. E
predominates so remarkably, that an individual sen-
tence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not
the prevailing character.

"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the
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 sup-
position, 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/ etc. 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, there-
fore, whether there are not repetitions of any three
characters, 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 repre-

168 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

sent the word 'the/ Upon inspection, we find no
less than seven such arrangements, the characters
being ;48. We may, therefore, assume that ; repre-
sents t, 4 represents h, 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 548 oc-
curs— not far from the end of the cipher. We know
that the ; immediately ensuing is the commencement
of a word, and, of six characters succeeding this
'the,' we are cognizant of no less than five. Let us
set these characters down, thus, by the letters we
know them to represent, leaving a space for the un-
known— teeth

"Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the {th,'
as forming no portion of the word commencing with
the first t; since, by 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 be-
fore, we arrive at the word 'tree/ as the sole possi-
ble reading. We thus gain another letter, r, repre-

The Gold-Bug 169

sented by (, with the words 'the tree' in juxtaposi-
tion.

"Looking beyond these words, for a short dis-
tance, we again see the combination 548, and employ
it by way of termination to what immediately pre-
cedes. We have thus this arrangement:
the tree ;4(t?34 the,

or, substituting the natural letters, where known,

it reads thus :

the tree thrj?3h the.

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

^Us : the tree thr...h the,

when the word 'through' makes itself evident at
once. But this discovery gives us three new let-
ters, o, u, and g, represented by t, ?, and 3.

"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for
combinations of known characters, we find, not very
far trom the beginning, this arrangement,
63(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 per-
ceive the combination

;46(;88

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

170 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

th.rtee,

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

"Referring, now, to the beginning of the crypto-
graph, we find the combination,

ssttt-

"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

8
3
4
6

n

o

r

t

u

"We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the
most important letters represented, and it will be
unnecessary to proceed with the details of the solu-
tion. I have said enough to convince you that ci-
phers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give
you some insight into the rationale of their develop-
ment. But be assured that the specimen before us

The Gold-Bug 171

appertains to the very simplest species of crypto-
graph. 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 forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes north-
east 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
meaning from all this jargon about 'devil's seats/
'death's-head/ 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 sen-
tence into the natural division intended by the cryp-
tographist."

"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

172 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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:

ff '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."

"It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand,
"for a few days; during which I made diligent in-
quiry in the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, for
any building which went by 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 sud-
denly, 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 north-
ward of the island. I accordingly went over to the

The Gold-Bug 173

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 Bessop'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 assem-
blage of cliffs and rocks — one of the latter being
quite remarkable for its height as well as for its in-
sulated 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 hollow-backed chairs used by our ances-
tors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devfl'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

174 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

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 di-
rections for the levelling of the glass. Greatly ex-
cited 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 pre-
conceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of
course, the 'forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes'
could allude to nothing but elevation above the visi-
ble 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 cen-
tre of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could
not, at first, distinguish what it was. A'djusting the
focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made
it out to be a human skull.

"Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to con-
sider the enigma solved ; for the phrase 'main branch,

The Gold-Bug 175

seventh limb, east side/ could refer only to the posi-
tion of the skull upon the tree, while 'shoot from the
left eye of the death's-head* admitted, also, of but
one interpretation, 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 ex-
tended 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 con-
cealed."

"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 homeward. The instant that I left
'the devil's-seat/ however, the circular rift vanished ;
nor could I get a glimpse of it afterward, turn as I
would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in
this whole business, is the fact (for repeated experi-
ment has convinced me it is a fact) that the circular
opening in question is visible from no other attain-
able 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, ob-
served, for some weeks past, the abstraction of my

176 Works of Edgar Allan Poc

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 at night my valet proposed
to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adven-
ture I believe you are as well acquainted as my-
self."

"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 triv-
ial 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 somewhere ac-
tually buried, we might have had all our labor in
vain."

"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in
swinging the beetle — how excessively odd! I was
sure you were mad. And why did you insist upon

The Gold-Bug 177

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
skeletons found in the hole?"

"That is a question I am no more able to answer
than yourself. There seems, however, only one
plausible way of accounting for them — and yet it
is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my sugges-
tion would imply. 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 coadjutors were busy in the
pit; perhaps it required a dozen — who shall tell?"

FOUR BEASTS IN ONE

THE HOMO-CAMELEOPARD

Chacun a ses vertus.

— Crebillon's Xerxes.

A NTIOCHUS EPIPHANES is very generally
•«* looked upon as the Gog of the prophet Eze-
kiel. This honor is, however, more properly attrib-
utable to Cambyses, the son of Cyrus. And, in-
deed, the character of the Syrian monarch does fry
no means stand in need of any adventitious embel-
lishment. His accession to the throne, or rather his
usurpation of the sovereignty, a hundred and sev-
enty-one years before the coming of Christ; his at-
tempt to plunder the temple of Diana at Ephesus;
his implacable hostility to the Jews ; his pollution of
the Holy of Holies; and his miserable death at
Taba, after a tumultuous reign of eleven years, are
circumstances of a prominent kind, and therefore
more generally noticed by the historians of his time
than the impious, dastardly, cruel, silly, and whimsi-
cal achievements which make up the sum total of his
private life and reputation.

Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the
year of the world three thousand eight hundred and
078)

Four Beasts in One 179

thirty, and let us, for a few minutes, imagine our-
selves at that most grotesque habitation of man, the
remarkable city of Antioch. To be sure there were,
in Syria and other countries, sixteen cities of that
appellation, besides the one to which I more partic-
ularly allude. But ours is that which went by the
name of Antiochia Epidaphne, from its vicinity to
the little village of Daphne, where stood a temple to
that divinity. It was built (although about this
matter there is some dispute) by Seleucus Nicanor,
the first king of the country after Alexander the
Great, in memory of his father, Antiochus, and be-
came immediately the residence of the Syrian mon-
archy. In the flourishing times of the Roman Em-
pire it was the ordinary station of the prefect of the
eastern provinces ; and many of the emperors of the
Queen city (among whom may be mentioned, espe-
cially, Verus and Valens) spent here the greater part
of their time. But I perceive we have arrived at the
city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw
our eyes upon the town and neighboring country.

"What broad and rapid river is that which forces
its way, with innumerable falls, through the moun-
tainous wilderness, and finally through the wilder-
ness of buildings?"

That is the Orontes, and it is the only water in
sight, with the exception of the Mediterranean,
which stretches, like a broad mirror, about twelve
miles off to the southward. Every one has seen the

180 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Mediterranean; but let me tell you, there are few
who have had a peep at Antioch. By few, I mean,
few who, like you and me, have had, at the same
time, the advantages of a modern education. There-
fore cease to regard that sea, and give your whole
attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us.
You will remember that it is now the year of the
world three thousand eight hundred and thirty.
Were it later — for example, were it the year of our
Lord eighteen hundred and forty-five — we should
be deprived of this extraordinary spectacle. In the
nineteenth century Antioch is — that is to say, An-
tioch will be — in a lamentable state of decay. It
will have been, by that time, totally destroyed, at
three different periods, by three successive earth-
quakes. Indeed, to say the truth, what little of its
former self may then remain, will be found in so
desolate and ruinous a state that the patriarch shall
have removed his residence to Damascus. This is
well. I see you profit by my advice, and are mak-
ing the most of your time in inspecting the premises
— in

satisfying your eyes

With the memorials and the things of fame
That most renown this city.

I beg pardon; I had forgotten that Shakespeare
will not flourish for seventeen hundred and fifty
years to come. But does not the appearance of
Epidaphne justify me in calling it grotesque?*

Four Beasts in One 181

"It is well fortified; and in this respect is as much
indebted to nature as to art."

Very true.

"There are a prodigious number of stately pal-
aces."

There are.

"And the numerous temples, sumptuous and mag-
nificent, may bear comparison with the most lauded
of antiquity."

All this I must acknowledge. Still, there is an
infinity of mud huts, and abominable hovels. We
cannot help perceiving abundance of filth in every
kennel, and, were it not for the overpowering fumes
of idolatrous incense, I have no doubt we should
find a most intolerable stench. Did you ever behold
streets so insufferably narrow, or houses so miracu-
lously tall ? What a gloom their shadows cast upon
the ground ! It is well the swinging lamps in those
endless colonnades are kept burning throughout the
day; we should otherwise have the darkness of
Egypt in the time of her desolation.

"It is certainly a strange place! What is the
meaning of yonder singular building ? See ! it tow-
ers above all others, and lies to the eastward of what
I take to be the royal palace !"

That is the new Temple of the Sun, who is adored
in Syria under the title of Elah Gabalah. Hereafter
a very notorious Roman emperor will institute this
worship in Rome, and thence derive a cognomen,

1 82 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Heliogabalus. I dare say you would like to take
a peep at the divinity of the temple. You need not
look up at the heavens ; his Sunship is not there — at
least not the Sunship adored by the Syrians. That
deity will be found in the interior of yonder building.
He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone
pillar terminating at the summit in a cone or pyra-
mid, whereby is denoted Fire.

"Hark! — behold! — who can those ridiculous be-
ings be, half naked, with their faces painted, shout-
ing and gesticulating to the rabble?"

Some few are mountebanks. Others more par-
ticularly belong to the race of philosophers. The
greatest portion, however — those especially who be-
labor the populace with clubs — are the principal
courtiers of the palace, executing, as in duty bound,
some laudable comicality of the king's.

"But what have we here? Heavens! the town is
swarming with wild beasts! How terrible a spec-
tacle!— how dangerous a peculiarity!"

Terrible if you please ; but not in the least degree
dangerous. Each animal, if you will take the pains
to observe, is following, very quietly, in the wake of
its master. Some few, to be sure, are led with a
rope about the neck, but these are chiefly the lesser
or timid species. The lion, the tiger, and the leop-
ard are entirely without restraint. They have been
trained without difficulty to their present profession,
and attend upon their respective owners in the capac-

Four Beasts in One 183

ity of valets-de-chambre. It is true, there are occa-
sions when Nature asserts her violated dominion;
— but then the devouring of a man-at-arms, or the
throttling of a consecrated bull, is a circumstance of
too little moment to be more than hinted at in
Epidaphne.

"But what extraordinary tumult do I hear?
Surely this is a loud noise even for Antioch! It
argues some commotion of unusual interest."

Yes — undoubtedly. The king has ordered some
novel spectacle — some gladiatorial exhibition at the
hippodrome — or perhaps the massacre of the Scyth-
ian prisoners — or the conflagration of his new palace
— or the tearing down of a handsome temple — or,
indeed, a bonfire of a few Jews. The uproar in-
creases. Shouts of laughter ascend the skies. The
air becomes dissonant with wind instruments, and
horrible with the clamor of a million throats. Let
us descend, for the love of fun, and see what is go-
ing on! This way — be careful! Here we are in
the principal street, which is called the street of Ti-
marchus. The sea of people is coming this way, and
we shall find a difficulty in stemming the tide. They
are pouring through the alley of Heraclides, which
leads directly from the palace — therefore the king is
most probably among the rioters. Yes — I Hear the
shouts of the herald proclaiming his approach in the
pompous phraseology of the East. We shall have
a glimpse of his person as he passes by the temple of

184 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Ashimah. Let us ensconce ourselves in the vesti-
bule of the sanctuary ; he will be here anon. In the
meantime let us survey this image. What is it?
Oh ! it is the god Ashimah in proper person. You
perceive, however, that he is neither a lamb, nor a
goat, nor a satyr; neither has he much resemblance
to the Pan of the Arcadians. Yet all these appear-
ances have been given — I beg pardon— will be given
— by the learned of future ages, to the Ashimah of
the Syrians. Put on your spectacles, and tell me
what it is. What is it?

"Bless me! it is an ape!"

True — a baboon; but by no means the less a
deity. His name is a derivation of the Greek
Simia — what great fools are antiquarians! But
see ! — see ! — yonder scampers a ragged little urchin.
Where is he going? What is he bawling about?
What does he say ? Oh ! he says the king is coming
in triumph; that he is dressed in state; that he has
just finished putting to death, with his own hand, a
thousand chained Israelitish prisoners! For this
exploit the ragamuffin is lauding him to the skies!
Hark! here comes a troop of a similar description.
They have made a Latin hymn upon the valor of the
king, and are singing it as they go :

Mille, mille, mille,

Mille, mille, mille,

Decollavimus, unus homo!

Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus !

Four Beasts in One 185

Mille, mille, mille,
Vivat qui mille mille occidit !
Tantum vini habet nemo
-Quantum sanguinis effudit!*

Which may be thus paraphrased :

A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
We, with one warrior, have slain!
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, a thousand.
Sing a thousand over again!

Soho! — let us sing

Long life to our king,
Who knocked over a thousand so fine !

Soho ! — let us roar,

He has given us more

Red gallons of gore
Than all Syria can furnish of wine!

"Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?"

Yes — the king is coming! See! the people are
aghast with admiration, and lift up their eyes to the
heavens in reverence! He comes! — he is coming!
— there he is!

"Who? — where? — the king? — I do not behold
him; — cannot say that I perceive him."

Then you must be blind.

"Very possible. Still, I see nothing but a tumul-
tuous mob of idiots and madmen, who are busy in
prostrating themselves before a gigantic camelo-

*Flavius Vospicus says, that the hymn here introduced was
sung by the rabble upon the occasion of Aurelian, in the
Sarmatic war, having slain, with his own hand, nine hundred
and fifty of the enemy.

1 86 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

pard, and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal's
hoofs ! See ! the beast has very justly kicked one of
the rabble over — and another — and another — and
another. Indeed, I can not help admiring the animal
for the excellent use he is making of his feet."

Rabble, indeed! — why, these are the noble and
free citizens of Epidaphne ! Beast, did you say ? —
take care that you are not overheard. Do you not
perceive that the animal has the visage of a man?
Why, my dear sir, that camelopard is no other than
Antiochus Epiphanes — Antiochus the Illustrious,
King of Syria, and the most potent of all the auto-
crats of the East ! It is true, that he is entitled, at
times, Antiochus Epimanes — Antiochus the madman
— but that is because all people have not the capacity
to appreciate his merits. It is also certain that he
is at present ensconced in the hide of a beast, and is
doing his best to play the part of a camelopard; but
this is done for the better sustaining his dignity as
king. Besides, the monarch is of gigantic stature,
and the dress is therefore neither unbecoming nor
over large. We may, however, presume he would
not have adopted it but for some occasion of especial
state. Such, you will allow, is the massacre of a
thousand Jews. With how superior a dignity the
monarch perambulates on all fours! ' His tail, you
perceive, is held aloft by his two principal concu-
bines, Elline and Argelais ; and his whole appearance
would be infinitely prepossessing, were it not for the

Four Beasts in One 187

protuberance of his eyes, which will certainly start
out of his head, and the queer color of his face,
which has become nondescript from the quantity of
wine he has swallowed. Let us follow him to the
hippodrome, whither he is proceeding, and listen to
the song of triumph which he is commencing :

Who is king but Epiphanes?

Say — do you know?
Who is king but Epiphanes?

Bravo ! — bravo !
There is none but Epiphanes,

No — there is none:
So tear down the temples,

And put out the sun!

Well and strenuously sung! The populace are
hailing him "Prince of Poets," as well as "Glory of
the East," "Delight of the Universe," and "Most
Remarkable of Camelopards." They have encored
his effusion, and — do you hear? — he is singing it
over again. When he arrives at the hippodrome,
he will be crowned with the poetic wreath, in antici-
pation of his victory at the approaching Olympics.

"But, good Jupiter! what is the matter in the
crowd behind us?"

Behind us, did you say? — oh! ah! — I perceive.
My friend, it is well that you spoke in time. Let
us get into a place of safety as soon as possible.
Here! — let us conceal ourselves in the arch of this
aqueduct, and. I will inform you presently of the
origin of the commotion. It has turned out as I

1 88 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

have been anticipating. The singular appearance of
the camelopard with the head of a man, has, it
seems, given offence to the notions of propriety en-
tertained in general by the wild animals domesti-
cated in the city. A mutiny has been the result;
and, as is usual upon such occasions, all human
efforts will be of no avail in quelling the mob. Sev-
eral of the Syrians have already been devoured ; but
the general voice of the four-footed patriots seems
to be for eating up the camelopard. "The Prince
of Poets/' therefore, is upon his hinder legs run-
ning for his life. His courtiers have left him in the
lurch, and his concubines have followed so excellent
an example. "Delight of the Universe," thou art
in a sad predicament! "Glory of the East," thou
art in danger of mastication! Therefore never re-
gard so piteously thy tail; it will undoubtedly be
draggled in the mud, and for this there is no help.
Look not behind thee, then, at its unavoidable degra-
dation; but take courage, ply thy legs with vigor,
and scud for the hippodrome ! Remember that thou
art Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus the Illustri-
ous ! — also "Prince of Poets," "Glory of the East,"
"Delight of the Universe," and "Most Remarkable
of Camelopards !" Heavens! what a power of
speed thou art displaying! What a capacity for
leg-bail thou art developing! Run, Prince! —
Bravo, Epiphanes ! — Well done, Camelopard ! —
Glorious Antiochus! — He runs! — he leaps! — he

Four Beasts in One 189

flies ! Like an arrow from a catapult he approaches
the hippodrome ! He leaps ! — he shrieks ! — he is
there ! This is well ; for hadst thou, "Glory of the
East," been half a second longer in reaching the
gates of the amphitheatre, there is not a bear's cub
in Epidaphne that would not have had a nibble at
thy carcass. Let us be off — let us take our depart-
ure ! — for we shall find our delicate modern ears un-
able to endure the vast uproar which is about to com-
mence in celebration of the king's escape! Listen!
it has already commenced. See! — the whole town
is topsy-turvy.

"Surely this is the most populous city of the
East ! What a wilderness of people ! What a jum-
ble of all ranks and ages! What a multiplicity of
sects and nations ! what a variety of costumes ! what
a Babel of languages! what a screaming of beasts!
what a tinkling of instruments! what a parcel of
philosophers !"

Come, let us be off.

"Stay a moment! I see a vast hubbub in the
hippodrome; what is the meaning of it, I beseech
you?"

That ? — oh, nothing ! The noble and free citizens
of Epidaphne being, as they declare, well satisfied
of the faith, valor, wisdom, and divinity of their
king, and having, moreover, been eye-witnesses of
his late superhuman agility, do think it no more
than their duty to invest his brows (in addition to

190 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the poetic crown) with the wreath of victory in the
foot-race — a wreath which it is evident he must ob-
tain at the celebration of the next Olympiad, and
which, therefore, they now give him in advance.

THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles as-
sumed when he hid himself among women, although puzzling
questions, are not beyond all conjecture.

— Sir Thomas Browne

THE mental features discoursed of as the analyti-
cal, are, in themselves, but little susceptible of
analysis. We appreciate them only in their effects.
We know of them, among other things, that they
are always to their possessor, when inordinately pos-
sessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the
strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting
in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so
glories the analyst in that moral activity which
disentangles. He derives pleasure from even the
most trivial occupations bringing his talent into
play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, hiero-
glyphics ; exhibiting in his solutions of each a degree
of acumen which appears to the ordinary apprehen-
sion preternatural. His results, brought about by
the very soul and essence of method, have, in truth,
the whole air of intuition.

The faculty of resolution is possibly much invig-
orated by mathematical study, and especially by that
highest branch of it which, unjustly, and merely on
account of its retrograde operations, has been called,
as if par excellence, analysis. Yet to calculate is

192 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

not in itself to analyze. A chess-player, for exam-
ple, does the one, without effort at the other. It
follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon
mental character, is greatly misunderstood. I am
not now writing a treatise, but simply prefacing a
somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very
much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to
assert that the higher powers of the reflective in-
tellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked
by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all
the elaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where
the pieces have different and bizarre motions, with
various and variable values, what is only complex,
is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is pro-
found. The attention is here called powerfully into
play. If it flag for an instant, an oversight is com-
mitted, resulting in injury or defeat. The possible
moves being not only manifold, but involute, the
chances of such oversights are multiplied; and in
nine cases out of ten, it is the more concentrative
rather than the more acute player who conquers.
In draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are
unique and have but little variation, the probabili-
ties of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere
attention being left comparatively unemployed, what
advantages are obtained by either party are ob-
tained by superior acumen. To be less abstract, let
us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces are
reduced to four kings, and where, of course, no

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 193

oversight is to be expected. It is obvious that here
the victory can be decided (the players being at all
equal) only by some recherche movement, the result
of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived
of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself
into the spirit of his opponent, identifies himself
therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at a
glance, the sole methods (sometimes indeed absurdly
simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or
hurry into miscalculation.

Whist has long been known for its influence upon
what is termed the calculating power; and men of
the highest order of intellect have been known to
take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while
eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there
is nothing of a similar nature so greatly tasking the
faculty of analysis. The best chess player in Christ-
endom may be little more than the best player of
chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for
success in all these more important undertakings
where mind struggles with mind. When I say pro-
ficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which
includes a comprehension of all the sources whence
legitimate advantage may be derived. These are
not only manifold, but multiform, and lie frequently
among recesses of thought altogether inaccessible to
the ordinary understanding. To observe attentively
is to remember distinctly; and, so far, the concen-
trative chess-player will do very well at whist;

194 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

while the rules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the
mere mechanism of the game) are sufficiently and
generally comprehensible. Thus to have a reten-
tive memory, and proceed by "the book," are points
commonly regarded as the sum total of good play-
ing. But it is in matters beyond the limits of mere
rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. He
makes, in silence, a host of observations and infer-
ences. So, perhaps, do his companions ; and the dif-
ference in the extent of the information obtained,
lies not so much in the validity of the inference as in
the quality of the observation. The necessary
knowledge is that of what to observe. Our player
confines himself not at all ; nor, because the game is
the object, does he reject deductions from things
external to the game. He examines the countenance
of his partner, comparing it carefully with that of
each of his opponents. He considers the mode of
assorting the cards in each hand; often counting
trump by trump, and honor by honor, through the
glances bestowed by their holders upon each. He
notes every variation of face as the play progresses,
gathering a fund of thought from the differences
in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of tri-
umph, or chagrin. From the manner of gathering
up a trick he judges whether the person taking it
can make another in the suit. He recognizes what
is played through feint, by the manner with which
it is thrown upon the table. A casual or inadvert-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 195

ent word; the accidental dropping or turning of a
card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness
in regard to its concealment; the counting of the
tricks, with the order of their arrangement; embar-
rassment, hesitation, eagerness, or trepidation — all
afford, to his apparently intuitive perception, indica-
tions of the true state of affairs. The first two or
three rounds having been played, he is in full pos-
session of the contents of each hand, and thencefor-
ward puts down his cards with as absolute a pre-
cision of purpose as if the rest of the party had
turned outward the faces of their own.

The analytical power should not be confounded
with simple ingenuity; for while the analyst is nec-
essarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often re-
markably incapable of analysis. The constructive
or combining power, by which ingenuity is usually
manifested, and to which the phrenologists (I be-
lieve erroneously) have assigned a separate organ,
supposing it a primitive faculty, has been so fre-
quently seen in those whose intellect bordered other-
wise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general obser-
vation among writers on morals. Between ingenu-
ity and the analytic ability there exists a difference
far greater, indeed, than that between the fancy,
and the imagination, but of a character very strictly
analogous. It will be found, in fact, that the in-
genious are always fanciful, and the truly imagina-
tive never otherwise than analytic.

196 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

The narrative which follows will appear to the
reader somewhat in the light of a commentary
upon the propositions just advanced.

Residing in Paris during the spring and part of
the summer of 18 — , I there became acquainted with
a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gen-
tleman was of an excellent, indeed of an illustrious
family, but, by a variety of untoward events, had
-X, been reduced to such poverty that the energy of his
character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to be-
V stir himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval
of his fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there
still remained in his possession a small remnant of
his patrimony; and, upon the income arising from
this, he managed, by means of a rigorous economy,
to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling
himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were
his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily ob-
tained.

Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the
Rue Montmartre, where the accident of our both be-
ing in search of the same very rare and very re-
markable volume, brought us into closer communion.
We saw each other again and again. I was deeply
interested in the little family history which he de-
tailed to me with all that candor which a French-
man indulges whenever mere self is the theme. I
was astonished, too, at the vast extent of his read-
ing; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled within'

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 197

me by the wild fervojyand the vivid freshness of his-
imagination. Seeking in Paris the objects I then
sought, I felt that the society of such a man would
be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling
I frankly confided to him. It was at length arranged
that we should live together during my stay in the
city; and as my worldly circumstances were some-
what less embarrassed than his own, I was permitted
to be at the expense of renting, and furnishing in
a style which suited the rather fantastic gloom of
our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque
mansion, long deserted through superstitions into
which we did not inquire, and tottering to its fall
in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg
St. Germain.

Had the routine of our life at this place been
known to the world, we should have been regarded
as madmen — although, perhaps, as madmen of a
harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We
admitted no visitors. Indeed, the locality of our
retirement had been carefully kept a secret from my
own former associates ; and it had been many years
since Dupin had ceased to know or be known in
Paris. We existed within ourselves alone.

It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what
else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the night for
her own sake ; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his
others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild
whims with a perfect abandon. The sable divinity

198 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

would not herself dwell with us always; but we
could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn
of the morning we closed all the massy shutters of
our old building; lighted a couple of tapers which,
strongly perfumed, threw out only the ghastliest and
feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then busied
/\our souls in dreams — reading, writing, or convers-
ing, until warned by the clock of the advent of the
true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the
streets, arm in arm, continuing the topics of the day,
or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking,
amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous
city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet
observation can afford.

At such times I could not help remarking and
admiring (although from his rich ideality I had been
^f. prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability in
Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in
its exercise — if not exactly in its display — and did
not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived.
He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, that
most men, in respect to himself, wore windows in
their bosoms, and was wont to follow up such as-
sertions by direct and very startling proofs of his
intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at
\ these moments was frigid and abstract ; his eyes were
vacant in expression ; while his voice, usually a rich
tenor, rose into a treble which would have sounded
petulant but for the deliberateness and entire dis-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 199

tinctness of the enunciation. Observing him in
these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the
old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused my-
self with the fancy of a double Dupin- — the creative
and the resolvent.

Let it not be supposed, from what I have just
said, that I am detailing any mystery, or penning
any romance. What I have described in the French-
man was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps
of a diseased, intelligence. But of the character of
his remarks at the periods in question an example
will best convey the idea.

We were strolling one night down a long dirty
street, in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Being
both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither of
us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at
least. All at once Dupin broke forth with these
words :

"He is a very little fellow, that's true, and would
do better for the Theatre Varietes."

"There can be no doubt of that," I replied, unwit-
tingly, and not at first observing (so much had I
been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary man-
ner in which the speaker had chimed in with my
meditations. In an instant afterward I recollected
myself, and my astonishment was profound.

"Dupin," said I, gravely, "this is beyond my com-
prehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am
amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How

2OO Works of Edgar Allan Poe

was it possible you should know I was thinking
of — ?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubt
whether he really knew of whom I thought.

" of Chantilly," said he, "why do you

pause? You were remarking to yourself that his
diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy."

This was precisely what had formed the subject
of my reflections. Chantilly was a quondam cob-
bler of the Rue St. Dennis, who, becoming stage-
mad, had attempted the role of Xerxes, in Crebil-
lon's tragedy so called, and been notoriously Pas-
quinaded for his pains.

"Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "the
method — if method there is — by which you have
been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter."
In fact, I was even more startled than I would have
been willing to express.

"It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who
brought you to the conclusion that the mender of
soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et id
genus omne"

"The fruiterer! — you astonish me — I know no
fruiterer whomsoever."

"The man who ran up against you as we entered
the street — it may have been fifteen minutes ago."

I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carry-
ing upon his head a large basket of apples, had
nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed
from the Rue C into the thoroughfare where we

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 201

stood ; but what this had to do with Chantilly I could
not possibly understand.

There was not a particle of charlatanerie about
Dupin. "I will explain," he said, "and that you
may comprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the
course of your meditations, from the moment in
which I spoke to you until that of the rencontre
with the fruiterer in question. The larger links of
the chain run thus — Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols,
Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruit-
erer."

There are few persons who have not, at some pe-
riod of their lives, amused themselves in retracing
the steps by which particular conclusions of their
own minds have been attained. The occupation is
often full of interest ; and he who attempts it for the
first time is astonished by the apparently illimitable
distance and incoherence between the starting-point
and the goal. What, then, must have been my
amazement, when I heard the Frenchman speak
what he had just spoken, and when I could not help
acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He
continued :

"We had been talking of horses, if I remember

aright, just before leaving the Rue C . This

was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed
into this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon
his head, brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon
a pile of paving-stones collected at a spot where the

2O2 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon
one of the loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained
your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few
words, turned to look at the pile, and then proceeded
in silence. I was not particularly attentive to what
you did; but observation has become with me, of
late, a species of necessity.

"You kept your eyes upon the ground — glancing,
with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in
the pavement (so that I saw you were still thinking
of the stones), until we reached the little alley called
Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of ex-
periment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks.
Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiv-
ing your lips move, I could not doubt that you mur-
mured the word 'stereotomy/ a term very affectedly
applied to this species of pavement. I knew that
you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without
being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the
theories of Epicurus ; and since, when we discussed
this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you
how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague
guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirma-
tion in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you
could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the
great nebula in Orion, and I certainly expected that
you would do so. You did look up ; and I was now
assured that I had correctly followed your steps.
But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which ap-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 203

peared in yesterday's 'Musee/ the satirist, making
some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change
of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin
line about which we have often conversed. I mean

the line

Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum.

I had told you that this was in reference to Orion,
formerly written Urion; and, from certain pungen-
cies connected with this explanation, I was aware
that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear,
therefore, that you would not fail to combine the
two ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you did
combine them I saw by the character of the smile
which passed over your lips. You thought of the
poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been
stooping in your gait ; but now I saw you draw your-
self up to your full height. I was then sure that
you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chan-
tilly. At this point I interrupted your meditations
to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow
—that Chantilly— he would do better at the The-
atre des Varietes."

Not long after this, we were looking over an even-
ing edition of the "Gazette des Tribunaux," when
the following paragraphs arrested our attention.

"Extraordinary Murders. — This morning, about
three o'clock, the inhabitants of the Quartier St.
Roch were roused from sleep by a succession of
terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth

204 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be
in the sole occupancy of one Madame L'Espanaye,
and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L'Espa-
naye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless
attempt to procure admission in the usual manner,
the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and
eight or ten of the neighbors entered, accompanied
by two gendarmes. By this time the cries had
ceased; but, as the party rushed up the first flight
of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry con-
tention, were distinguished, and seemed to proceed
from the upper part of the house. As the second
landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased,
and everything remained perfectly quiet. The party
spread themselves, and hurried from room to room.
Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth
story (the door of which, being found locked, with
the key inside, was forced open), a spectacle pre-
sented itself which struck every one present not less
with horror than with astonishment.

"The apartment was in the wildest disorder — the
furniture broken and thrown about in all directions.
There was only one bedstead; and from this the
bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle
of the floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with
blood. On the hearth were two or three long and
thick tresses of gray human hair, also dabbled with
blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by the
roots. Upon the floor were found four Napoleons,

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 205

an earring of topaz, three large silver spoons, three
smaller of metal d'Alger, and two bags, contain-
ing nearly four thousand francs in gold. The draw-
ers of a bureau, which stood in one corner, were
open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although
many articles still remained in them. A small iron
safe was discovered under the bed (not under the
bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the
door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters,
and other papers of little consequence.

"Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here
seen ; but an unusual quantity of soot being observed
in the fireplace, a search was made in the chimney,
and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter,
head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having
been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a con-
siderable distance. The body was quite warm.
Upon examining it, many excoriations were per-
ceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with
which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon
the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the
throat, dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger
nails, as if the deceased had been throttled to death.

"After a thorough investigation of every portion
of the house without further discovery, the party
made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of
the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady,
with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an at-
tempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as

206 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

well as the head, was fearfully mutilated — the for-
mer so much so as scarcely to retain any semblance
of humanity.

"To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we
believe, the slightest clew."

The next day's paper had these additional particu-
lars:

"The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. — Many indi-
viduals have been examined in relation to this most
extraordinary and frightful affair" [the word 'af-
faire' has not yet, in France, that levity of import
which it conveys with us], "but nothing whatever
has transpired to throw light upon it. We give
below all the material testimony elicited.

"Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes that she has
known both the deceased for three years, having
washed for them during that period. The old lady
and her daughter seemed on good terms — very af-
fectionate toward each other. They were excel-
lent pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode
or means of living. Believed that Madame L. told
fortunes for a living. Was reputed to have money
put by. Never met any person in the house when
she called for the clothes or took them home. Was
sure that they had no servant in employ. There
appeared to be no furniture in any part of the build-
ing except in the fourth story.

"Pierre Moreau, tobacconist, deposes that he has
been in the habit of selling small quantities of to-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 207

bacco and snuff to Madame L'Espanaye for nearly
four years. Was born in the neighborhood, and
has always resided there. The deceased and her
daughter had occupied the house in which the
corpses were found, for more than six years. It
was formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let
the upper rooms to various persons. The house was
the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied
with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and
moved into them herself, refusing to let any portion.
The old lady was childish. Witness had seen the
daughter some five or six times during the six years.
The two lived an exceedingly retired life — were re-
puted to have money. Had heard it said among
the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes — did
not believe it. Had never seen any person enter
the door except the old lady and her daughter, a
porter once or twice, and a physician some eight or
ten times.

"Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence
to the same effect. No one was spoken of as fre-
quenting the house. It was not known whether
there were any living connections of Madame L. and
her daughter. The shutters of the front windows
were seldom opened. Those in the rear were al-
ways closed, with the exception of the large back
room, fourth story. The house was a good house
— not very old.

"Isidore Muset, gendarme, deposes that he was

208 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

called to the house about three o'clock in the morn-
ing, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the
gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced
it open, at length, with a bayonet — not with a crow-
bar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on
account of its being a double or folding gate, and
bolted neither at bottom nor. top. The shrieks were
continued until the gate was forced — and then sud-
denly ceased. They seemed to be screams of some
person (or persons) in great agony — were loud and
drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the
way upstairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard
two voices in loud and angry contention — the one a
gruff voice, the other much shriller — a very strange
voice. Could distinguish some words of the former,
which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that
it was not a woman's voice. Could distinguish the
words 'sacre' and 'diable.' The shrill voice was that
of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it was
the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not
make out what was said, but believed the language to
be Spanish. The state of the room and of the
bodies was described by this witness as we described
them yesterday.

"Henri Duval, a neighbor, and by trade a silver-
smith, deposes that he was one of the party who first
entered the house. Corroborates the testimony of
Muset in general. As soon as they forced an en-
trance, they reclosed the door, to keep out the crowd,

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 209

which collected very fast, notwithstanding the late-
ness of the hour. The shrill voice, this witness
thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was
not French. Could not be sure that it was a man's
voice. It might have been a woman's. Was not
acquainted with the Italian language. Could not
distinguish the words, but was convinced by the
intonation that the speaker was an Italian. Knew
Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with
both frequently. Was sure that the shrill voice
was not that of either of the deceased.

" Q denheimer , restaurateur. — This witness

volunteered his testimony. Not speaking French,
was examined through an interpreter. Is a native
of Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time
of the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes —
probably ten — They were long and loud — very aw-
ful and distressing. Was one of those who entered
the building. Corroborated the previous evidence
in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrill
voice was that of a man — of a Frenchman. Could
not distinguish the words uttered. They were loud
and quick — unequal — spoken apparently in fear as
well as in anger. The voice was harsh — not so much
shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The
gruff voice said repeatedly, 'sacrej 'diable,' and once
'mon Dieu/

"Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud
et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder Mignaud.

2io Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Madame L'Espanaye had some property. Had
opened an account with his banking house in the
spring of the year — (eight years previously). Made
frequent deposits in small sums. Had checked for
nothing until the third day before her death, when
she took out in person the sum of 4,000 francs. This
sum was paid in gold, and a clerk sent home with
the money.

"Adolphe Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, de-
poses that on the day in question, about noon, he
accompanied Madame L'Espanaye to her residence
with the 4,000 francs, put up in two bags. Upon
the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared
and took from his hands one of the bags, while the
old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed
and departed. Did not see any person in the street
at the time. It is a by-street — very lonely.

"William Bird, tailor, deposes that he was one
of the party who entered, the house. Is an English-
man. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one of
the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in
contention. The gruff voice was that of a French-
man. Could make out several words, but cannot
now remember all. Heard distinctly 'sacre' and
lmon Dieu.' There was a sound at the moment as
if of several persons struggling — a scraping and
scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud —
louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it was not
the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 211

of a German. Might have been a woman's voice.
Does not understand German.

"Four of the above-named witnesses being re-
called, deposed that the door of the chamber in which
was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was locked
on the inside when the party reached it. Every-
thing was perfectly silent — no groans or noises of
any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was
seen. The windows, both of the back and front
room, were down and firmly fastened from witfiin.
A door between the two rooms was closed but not
locked. The door leading from the front room into
the passage was locked, with the key on the inside.
A small room in the front of the house, on the
fourth story, at the head of the passage, was open,
the door being ajar. This room was crowded with
old beds, boxes, and so forth. These were care-
fully removed and searched. There was not an
inch of any portion of the house which was not
carefully searched. Sweeps were sent up and down
the chimneys. The house was a four-story one,
with garrets (mansardes). A trap-door on the
roof was nailed down very securely — did not appear
to have been opened for years. The time elapsing
between the hearing of the voices in contention and
the breaking open of the room door was variously
stated by the witnesses. Some made it as short as
three minutes — some as long as five. The door
was opened with difficulty.

212 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

" Alfonso Gar CO) undertaker, deposes that he re-
sides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain.
Was one of the party who entered the house. Did
not proceed upstairs. Is nervous, and was appre-
hensive of the consequences of agitation. Heard
the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that
of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was
said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman
— is sure of this. Does not understand the English
language, but judges by the intonation.

"Alfonso Gar do, undertaker, deposes that he was
among the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the
voices in question. The gruff voice was that of a
Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The
speaker appeared to be expostulating. Could not
make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quick
and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian.
Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian.
Never conversed with a native of Russia.

"Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that
the chimneys of all the rooms on the fourth story
were too narrow to admit the passage of a human
being. By 'sweeps,' were meant cylindrical sweep-
ing-brushes, such as are employed by those who
clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up and
down every flue in the house. There is no back
passage by which any one could have descended
while the party proceeded upstairs. The body of
Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmly wedged in

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 213

the chimney that it could not be got down until four
or five of the party united their strength.

"Paul Dumas, physician, deposes that he was
called to view the bodies about daybreak. They
were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead
in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found.
The corpse of the young lady was much bruised and
excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the
chimney would sufficiently account for these appear-
ances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were
several deep scratches just below the chin, together
with a series of livid spots which were evidently the
impression of fingers. The face was fearfully dis-
colored, and the eyeballs protruded. The tongue
had been partially bitten through. A large bruise
was discovered upon the pit of the stomach, pro-
duced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In
the opinion of M. Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye
had been throttled to death by some person or per-
sons unknown. The corpse of the mother was hor-
ribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and
arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia
much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left
side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discol-
ored. It was not possible to say how the injuries
had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a
broad bar of iron — a chair — any large, heavy, and
obtuse weapon would have produced such results, if
wielded by the hands of a very powerful man. No

214 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

woman could have inflicted the blows with any
weapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by
witness, was entirely separated from the body, and
was also greatly shattered. The throat had evi-
dently been cut with some very sharp instrument —
probably with a razor.

"Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M.
Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the testi-
mony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.

"Nothing further of importance was elicited, al-
though several other persons were examined. A
murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all its
particulars, was never before committed in Paris —
if indeed a murder has been committed at all. The
police are entirely at fault — an unusual occurrence
in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the
shadow of a clew apparent. "

The evening edition of the paper stated that the
greatest excitement still continued in the Quartier
St. Roch — that the premises in question had been
carefully researched, and fresh examinations of wit-
nesses instituted, but all to no purpose. A post-
script, however, mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon
had been arrested and imprisoned — although noth-
ing appeared to criminate him beyond the facts al-
ready detailed.

Dupin seemed singularly interested in the prog-
ress of this affair — at least so I judged from his
manner, for he made no comments. It was only

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 215

after the announcement that Le Bon had been im-
prisoned, that he asked me my opinion respecting
the murders.

I could merely agree with all Paris in consider-
ing them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by
which it would be possible to trace the murderer.

"We must not judge of the means," said Dupin,
"by this shell of an examination. The Parisian po-
lice, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but
no more. There is no method in their proceedings,
beyond the method of the moment. They make a
vast parade of measures ; but, not unf requently, these
are so ill-adapted to the objects proposed, as to put
us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain's calling for his
robe-de-chambre — pour mieux entendre la musique.
The results attained by them are not unfrequently
surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about
by simple diligence and activity. When these qual-
ities are unavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for
example, was a good guesser, and a persevering man.
But, without educated thought, he erred contin-
ually by the very intensity at his investigations. He
impaired his vision by holding the object too close.
He might see, perhaps, one or two points with un-
usual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost
sight of the matter as a whole. Thus there is such
a thing as being too profound. Truth is not always
in a well. In fact, as regards the more important
knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably super-

2i6 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek
her, and not upon the mountain-tops where she is
found. The modes and sources of this kind of error
are well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly
bodies. To look at a star by glances — to view it in
a sidelong way, by turning toward it the exterior
portions of the retina (more susceptible of feeble im-
pressions of light than the interior), is to behold the
star distinctly — is to have the best appreciation of
its lustre — a lustre which grows dim just in propor-
tion as we turn our vision fully upon it. A greater
number of rays actually fall upon the eye in the lat-
ter case, but in the former, there is the more refined
capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity
we perplex and enfeeble thought; and it is possible
to make even Venus herself vanish from the firma-
"A ment by a scrutiny too sustained, too concentrated,
or too direct.

"As for these murders, let us enter into some ex-
aminations for ourselves, before we make up an opin-
ion respecting them. An inquiry will afford us
amusement" [I thought this an odd term, so applied,
but said nothing], "and besides, Le Bon once ren-
dered me a service for which I am not ungrateful.
We will go and see the premises with our own eyes.

I know G , the Prefect of Police, and shall have

no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission."

The permission was obtained, and we proceeded
at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one of those

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 217

miserable thoroughfares which intervene between
the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was
late in the afternoon when we reached it, as this
quarter is at a great distance from that in which
we resided. The house was readily found; for
there were still many persons gazing up at the closed
shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from the op-
posite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian
house, with a gateway, on one side of which was a
glazed watch-box, with a sliding panel in the win-
dow, indicating a loge de concierge. Before going
in we walked up the street, turned down an alley,
and then, again turning, passed in the rear of the
building — Dupin, meanwhile, examining the whole
neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minute-
ness of attention for which I could see no possible
object.

Retracing our steps we came again to the front of
the dwelling, rang, and, having shown our creden-
tials, were admitted by the agents in charge. We
went upstairs — into the chamber where the body of
Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found, and
where both the deceased still lay. The disorders of
the room had, as usual? been suffered to exist. I
saw nothing beyond what had been stated in the
"Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized every
thing — not excepting the bodies of the victims. We
then went into the other rooms, and into the yard;
a gendarme accompanying us throughout. The ex-

218 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

animation occupied us until dark, when we took our
departure. On our way home my companion
stepped in for a moment at the office of one of the
daily papers.

I have said that the whims of my friend were
manifold, and that Je les menagais : — for this phrase
there is no English equivalent. It was his humor,
now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the
murder, until about noon the next day. He then
asked me, suddenly, if I had observed anything pe-
culiar at the scene of the atrocity.

There was something in his manner of empha-
sizing the word "peculiar/' which caused me to
shudder, without knowing why.

"No, nothing peculiar," I said ; "nothing more, at
least, than we both saw stated in the paper.

"The 'Gazette/ " he replied, "has not entered, I
fear, into the unusual horror of the thing. But dis-
miss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to
that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the
very reason which should cause it to be regarded as
easy of solution — I mean for the outre character of
its features. The police are confounded by the
seeming absence of motive — not for the murder it-
self— but for the atrocity of the murder. They are
puzzled, too, by the seeming impossibility of recon-
ciling the voices heard in contention, with the facts
that no one was discovered upstairs but the assassi-
nated Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 219

no means of egress without the notice of the party
ascending. The wild disorder of the room; the
corpse thrust, with the head downward, up the chim-
ney; the frightful mutilation of the body of the old
lady; these considerations, with those just men-
tioned, and others which I need not mention, have
sufficed to paralyze the powers, by putting com-
pletely at fault the boasted acumen, of the govern-
ment agents. They have fallen into the gross but
common error of confounding the unusual with the
abstruse. But it is by these deviations from the
plane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if
at all, in its search for the true. In investigations
such as we are now pursuing, it should not be so
much asked 'what has occurred/ as 'what has oc-
curred that has never occurred before/ In fact, the
facility with which I shall arrive, or have arrived,
at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio
of its apparent insolubility in the eyes of the police."

I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment.

"I am now awaiting," continued he, looking to-
ward the door of our apartment — "I am now await-
ing a person who, although perhaps not the perpe-
trator of these butcheries, must have been in some
- measure implicated in their perpetration. Of the
worst portion of the crimes committed, it is prob-
able that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in
this supposition ; for upon it I build my expectation
of reading the entire riddle. I look for the man

22O Works of Edgar Allan Poe

here — in this room — every moment. It is true that _
he may not arrive ; but the probability is that he will.
Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him.
Here are pistols ; and we both know how to use them
when occasion demands their use."

I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did,
or believing what I heard, while Dupin went on,
very much as if in a soliloquy. I have already
spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His
discourse was addressed to myself; but his voice,
although by no means loud, had that intonation
which is commonly employed in speaking to some
one at a great distance. His eyes, vacant in ex-
pression, regarded only the wall.

"That the voices heard in contention," he said,
"by the party upon the stairs, were not the voices of
the women themselves, was fully proved by the evi-
dence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the ques-
tion whether the old lady could have first destroyed
the daughter, and afterward have committed suicide.
I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method ;
for the strength of Madame L'Espanaye would have
been utterly unequal to the task of thrusting her
daughter's corpse up the chimney as it was found;
and the nature of the wounds upon her own person
entirely precludes the idea of self-destruction. Mur-
der, then, has been committed by some third party;
a,nd the voices of this third party were those heard in
contention. Let me now advert — not to the whole

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 221

testimony respecting these voices — but to what was
peculiar in that testimony. Did you observe any-
thing peculiar about it?"

I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed
in supposing the gruff voice to be that of a French-
man, there was much disagreement in regard to the
shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh
voice.

"That was the evidence itself," said Dupin, "but
it was not the peculiarity of the evidence. You have
observed nothing distinctive. Yet there was some-
thing to be observed. The witnesses, as you re-
mark, agreed about the gruff voice; they were here
unanimous. But in regard to the shrill voice, the
peculiarity is — not that they disagreed — but that,
while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hol-
lander, and a Frenchman attempted to describe it,
each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner. Each is
sure that it was not the voice of one of his own
countrymen. Each likens it — not to the voice of an
individual of any nation with whose language he
is conversant — but the converse. The Frenchman
supposes it the voice of a Spaniard, and 'might have
distinguished some words had he been acquainted
with the Spanish/ The Dutchman maintains it
to have been that of a Frenchman; but we find it
stated that 'not understanding French this witness
was examined through an interpreter/ The En-
glishman thinks it the voice of a German, and 'does

222 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

not understand German.' The Spaniard 'is sure'
that it was that of an Englishman, but 'judges by
the intonation' altogether, 'as he has no knowledge
of the English.' The Italian believes it the voice of
a Russian, but 'has never conversed with a native
of Russia.' A second Frenchman differs, moreover,
with the first, and is positive that the voice was that
of an Italian; but, not being cognizant of that
tongue, is, like the Spaniard, 'convinced by the in-
tonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that
voice have really been, about which such testimony
as this could have been elicited! — in whose tones,
even, denizens of the five great divisions of Europe
could recognize nothing familiar! You will say
that it might have been the voice of an Asiatic — of
an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound
in Paris; but, without denying the inference, I will
now merely call your attention to three points. The
voice is termed by one witness 'harsh rather than
shrill.' It is represented by two others to have been
'quick and unequal.' No words — no sounds re-
sembling words — were by any witness mentioned as
distinguishable.

"I know not," continued Dupin, "what impression
I may have made, so far, upon your own under-
standing ; but I do not hesitate to say that legitimate
deductions even from this portion of the testimony
— the portion respecting the gruff and shrill voices
— are in themselves sufficient to engender a suspi-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 223

cion which should give direction to all further prog-
ress in the investigation of the mystery. I said
'legitimate deductions' ; but my meaning is not thus
fully expressed. I designed to imply that the de-
ductions are the sole proper ones, and that the sus-
picion arises inevitably from them as the single re-
sult. What the suspicion is, however, I will not say
just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that,
with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a
definite form — a certain tendency — to my inquiries
in the chamber.

"Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this
chamber. What shall we first seek here? The
means of egress employed by the murderers. It is
not too much to say that neither of us believes in
preternatural events. Madame and Mademoiselle
L'Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. The
doers of the deed were material and escaped mate-
rially. Then how? Fortunately there is but one
mode of reasoning upon the point, and that mode
must lead us to a definite decision. Let us ex-
amine, each by each, the possible means of egress.
It is clear that the assassins were in the room where
Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was found, or at least in
the room adjoining, when the party ascended the
stairs. It is then, only from these two apartments
that we have to seek issues. The police have laid
bare the floors, the ceiling, and the masonry of the
walls, in every direction. No secret issues could

224 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

have escaped their vigilance. But, not trusting to
their eyes, I examined with my own. There were,
then, no secret issues. Both doors leading from the
rooms into the passage were securely locked, with
the keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys.
These, although of ordinary width for some eight or
ten feet above the hearths, will not admit, through-
out their extent, the body of a large cat. The im-
possibility of egress, by means already stated, being
thus absolute, we are reduced to the windows.
Through those of the front room no one could have
escaped without notice from the crowd in the street.
The murderers must have passed, then, through
those of the back room. Now, brought to this con-
clusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is
not our part, as reasoners, to reject it on account
of apparent impossibilities. It is only left for us to
prove that these apparent 'impossibilities' are, in
reality, not such.

"There are two windows in the chamber. One
of them is unobstructed by furniture, and is wholly
visible. The lower portion of the other is hidden
from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead
which is thrust close up against it. The former was
found securely fastened from within. It resisted
the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise
it. A large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its
frame to the left, and a very stout nail was found
fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examin-

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 225

ing the other window, a similar nail was seen simi-
larly fitted in it ; and a vigorous attempt to raise this
sash failed also. The police were now entirely
satisfied that egress had not been in these directions.
And, therefore, it was thought a matter of supere-
rogation to withdraw the nails and open the win-
dows.

"My own examination was somewhat more par-
ticular, and was so for the reason I have just given
— because here it was, I knew, that all apparent
impossibilities must be proved to be not such in
reality.

"I proceeded to think thus — a posteriori. The
murderers did escape from one of these windows.
This being so, they could not have refastened the
sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened ;
— the consideration which put a stop, through its
obviousness, to the scrutiny of the police in this
quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened. They must,
then, have the power of fastening themselves. There
was no escape from this conclusion. I stepped to
the unobstructed casement, withdrew the nail with
some difficulty, and attempted to raise the sash.
It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A
concealed spring must, I now knew, exist; and this
corroboration of my idea convinced me that my
premises, at least, were correct, however mysterious
still appeared the circumstances attending the nails.
A careful search soon brought to light the hidden

226 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discov-
ery, forbore to upraise the sash.

"I now replaced the nail and regarded it atten-
tively. A person passing out through this window
might have reclosed it, and the spring would have
caught — but the nail could not have been replaced.
The conclusion was plain, and again narrowed in the
field of my investigations. The assassins must have
escaped through the other window. Supposing,
then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as
was probable, there must be found a difference be-
tween the nails, or at least between the modes of
their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bed-
stead, I looked over the head-board minutely at the
second casement. Passing my hand down behind
the board, I readily discovered and pressed the
spring, which was, as I had supposed, indentical
in character with its neighbor. I now looked at
the nail. It was as stout as the other, and appar-
ently fitted in the same manner — driven in nearly
up to the head.

"You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you
think so, you must have misunderstood the nature
of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, JJhad
noL^been oncejatjfault.' T^.^£nLjiad^never^or
an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any
link of the chain. I had traced the secret to its
ultimate result — and that result was the nail. It
had, I say, in every respect, the appearance of its

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 227

fellow in the other window; but this fact was an
absolute nullity (conclusive as it might seem to be)
when compared with the consideration that here, at
this point, terminated the clew. There must be some-
thing wrong/ I said, 'about the nail.' I touched it;
and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the
shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the
shank was in the gimlet-hole, where it had been
broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its
edges were incrusted with rust), and had appar-
ently been accomplished by the blow of a hammer,
which had partially imbedded, in the top of the bot-
tom sash, the head portion of the nail. I now care-
fully replaced this head portion in the indentation
whence I had taken it, and the resemblance to a
perfect nail was complete — the fissure was invisible.
Pressing the spring, I gently raised the sash for a
few inches ; the head went up with it, remaining firm
in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance
of the whole nail was again perfect.

"This riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The
assassin had escaped through the window which
looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord
upon his exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had
become fastened by the spring; and it was the re-
tention of this spring which had been mistaken by
the police for that of the nail — further inquiry being
thus considered unnecessary.

"The next question is that of the mode of de-

228 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

scent. Upon this point I had been satisfied in my
walk with you around the building. About five
feet and a half from the casement in question there
runs a lightning-rod. From this rod it would have
been impossible for any one to reach the window
itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed,
however, that the shutters of the fourth story were
of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters
ferrades — a ^rn^^y^y^^i)]nyeA_^_^\e. present
'day, but frequently seen upon very old mansions at
Lyons and Bordeaux. They are in the form of an
ordinary door (a single, not a folding door), ex-
cept that the lower half is latticed or worked in open
trellis — thus affording an . excellent hold for the
hands. In the present instance these shutters are
fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw
them from the rear of the house, they were both
about half open — that is to say, they stood off at
right angles from the wall. It is probable that the
police, as well as myself, examined the back of the
tenement ; but, if so, in looking at these ferrades in
the line of their breadth (as they must have done),
they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or,
at all events, failed to take it into due considera-
tion. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that
no egress could have been made in this quarter, they
would naturally bestow here a very cursory exam-
ination. It was clear to me, however, that the shut-
ter belonging to the window at the head of the bed,

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 229

would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to
within two feet of the lightning-rod. It was also
evident that, by exertion of a very unusual degree of
activity and courage, an entrance into the window,
from the rod, might have been thus effected. By
reaching to the distance of two feet and a half (we
now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) a
robber might have taken a firm grasp tfpon the
trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold upon the
rod, placing his feet securely against the wall, and
springing boldly from it, he might have swung the
shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine the win-
dow open at the time, might even have swung him-
self into the room.

"I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have
spoken of a very unusual degree of activity as re-
quisite to success in so hazardous and so difficult a
feat. It is my design to show you first, that the
thing might possibly have been accomplished : — but,
secondly and chiefly, I wish to impress upon your
understanding the very extraordinary — the almost
preternatural character of that agility which could
have accomplished it.

"You will say, no doubt, using the language of
the law, that 'to make out my case/ I should rather
undervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the
activity required in this matter. This may be the
practice in law, but it is not the usage of reason.
My ultimate object is only the truth. My immedi-

230 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ate purpose is to lead you to place in juxtaposi-
tion, that very unusual activity of which I have
just spoken, with that very peculiar shrill (or
harsh) and unequal voice, about whose nationality
no two persons could be found to agree, and in
whose utterance no syllabification could be de-
tected."

At these words a vague and half-formed concep-
tion of the meaning of Dupin flitted over my mind.
I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension,
without power to comprehend — as men, at times,
find themselves upon the brink of remembrance,
without being able, in the end, to remember. My
friend went on with his discourse.

"You will see," he said, "that I have shifted the
question from the mode of egress to that of ingress.
It was my design to convey the idea that both were
effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let
us now revert to the interior of the room. Let us
survey the appearances here. The drawers of the
bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many
articles of apparel still remained within them. The
conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess — a
very silly one — and no more. How are we to know
that the articles found in the drawers were not all
these drawers had originally contained? Madame
L'Espanaye and her daughter lived an exceedingly
retired life — saw no company — seldom went out —
had little use for numerous changes of habiliment.

The Murders in the Rue ^Morgue 231

Those found were at least of as good quality as any

likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had

taken any, why did he not take the best — why did he
not take all ? In a word, why did he abandon four
thousand francs in gold to encumber himself with
a bundle of linen? The gold was abandoned.
Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mig-
naud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the
floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from your
thoughts the blundering idea of motive, engendered
in the brains of the police by that portion of the evi-
dence which speaks of money delivered at the door
of the house. Coincidences ten times as remarkable
as this (the delivery of the money, and murder com-
mitted within three days upon the party receiving
it) , happen to all of us every hour of our lives, with-
out attracting even momentary notice. Coinci-
dences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the
way of that class of thinkers who have been edu-
cated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities
— that theory to which the most glorious objects of
human research are indebted for the most glorious
of illustration. In the present instance, had the
gold been gone, the fact of its delivery three days
before would have formed something more than a
coincidence. It would have been corroborative of
this idea of motive. But, under the real circum-
stances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the
motive of this outrage, we must also imagine the

232 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have aban-
doned his gold and his motive together.

"Keeping now steadily in mind the points to
which I have drawn your attention — that peculiar
voice, that unusual agility, and that startling ab-
sence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious
as this — let us glance at the butchery itself. Here
is a woman strangled to death by manual strength,
and thrust up a chimney head downward. Ordinary
assassins employ no such mode of murder as this.
Least of all, do they thus dispose of the murdered.
In the manner of thrusting the corpse up the chim-
ney, you will admit that there was something ex-
cessively outre — something altogether irreconcilable
with our common notions of human action, even
when we suppose the actors the most depraved of
men. Think, too, how great must have been that
strength which could have thrust the body up such
an aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of sev-
eral persons was found barely sufficient to drag it
down!

"Turn, now, to other indications of the employ-
ment of a vigor most marvellous. On the hearth
were thick tresses — very thick tresses— of gray hu-
man hair. These had been torn out by the roots.
You are aware of the great force necessary in tear-
ing thus from the head even twenty or thirty hairs
together. You saw the locks in question as well as
myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 233

with fragments of the flesh of the scalp — sure token
of the prodigious power which had been exerted in
uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time.
The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but
the head absolutely severed from the body: the in-
strument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look
at the brutal ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises
upon the body of Madame L'Espanaye I do not
speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadju-
tor Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they
were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so
far these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse
instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the
yard, upon which the victim had fallen from the
window which looked in upon the bed. This idea,
however simple it may now seem, escaped the police
for the same reason that the breadth of the shutters
escaped them — because, by the affair of the nails,
their perceptions had been hermetically sealed
against the possibility of the windows having ever
been opened at all.

"If now, in addition to all these things, you have
properly reflected upon the odd disorder of the cham-
ber, we have gone so far as to combine the ideas of
an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a fe-
rocity brutal, a butchery without motive, a gro-
tesquerie in horror absolutely alien from humanity,
and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of
many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelli-

234 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

gible syllabification. What result, then, has en-
sued? What impression have I made upon your
fancy ?"

I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me
the question. "A madman," I said, "has done this
deed — some raving maniac, escaped from a neigh-
boring Maison de Sante."

"In some respects," he replied, "your idea is not
irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even in
their wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally
with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Mad-
men are of some nation, and their language, how-
ever incoherent in its words, has always the coher-
ence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a mad-
man is not such as I now hold in my hand. I dis-
entangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutched
fingers of Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me what you
can make of it."

"Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved; "this hair
is most unusual — this is no human hair."

"I have not asserted that it is," said he; "but, be-
fore we decide this point, I wish you to glance at
the little sketch I have here traced upon this paper.
It is a fac-simile drawing of what has been de-
scribed in one portion of the testimony as 'dark
bruises and deep indentations of finger nails' upon
the throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and in an-
other (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne) as a 'series
of livid spots, evidently the impression of fingers.'

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 235

"You will perceive," continued my friend, spread-
ing out the paper upon the table before us, "that this
drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixed hold.
There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has re-
tained— possibly until the death of the victim — the
fearful grasp by which it originally imbedded itself.
Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at the same
time, in the respective impressions as you see them."

I made the attempt in vain.

"We are possibly not giving this matter a fair
trial/' he said. "The paper is spread out upon a
plane surface; but the human throat is cylindrical.
Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which
is about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing
around it, and try the experiment again."

I did so ; but the difficulty was even more obvious
than before. "This," I said, "is the mark of no
human hand."

"Read now," replied Dupin, "this passage from
Cuvier."

It was a minute anatomical and generally de-
scriptive account of the large fulvious Orang-Ou-
tang of the East Indian Islands. The gigantic
stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the
wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of these
mammalia are sufficiently well known to all. I un-
derstood the full horrors of the murder at once.

"The description of the digits," said I, as I made
an end of the reading, "is in exact accordance with

236 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

his drawing. I see that no animal but an Orang-
Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have
impressed the indentations as you have traced them.
This tuft of tawny hair, too, is identical in char-
acter with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I can-
not possibly comprehend the particulars of this
frightful mystery. Besides, there were two voices
heard in contention, and one of them was unques-
tionably the voice of a Frenchman."

"True; and you will remember an expression at-
tributed almost unanimously, by the evidence, to this
voice — the expression, *mon Dieu !' This, under the
circumstances, has been justly characterized by one
of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner) as an
expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Upon
these two words, therefore, I have mainly built my
hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchman
was cognizant of the murder. It is possible — in-
deed it is far more than probable — that he was in-
nocent of all participation in the bloody transac-
tions which took place. The Orang-Outang may
have escaped from him. He may have traced it to
the chamber ; but, under the agitating circumstances
which ensued, he could never have recaptured it.
It is still at large. I will not pursue these guesses
— for I have no right to call them more — since the
shades of reflection upon which they are based are
scarcely of sufficient depth to be appreciable by my
own intellect, and since I could not pretend to make

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 237

them intelligible to the understanding of another.
We will call them guesses, then, and speak of them
as such. If the Frenchman in question is indeed,
as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this adver-
tisement, which I left last night, upon our return
home, at the office of 'Le Monde' (a paper devoted
to the shipping interest, and much sought by sail-
ors), will bring him to our residence."
He handed me a paper, and I read thus :

CAUGHT — In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the
morning of the inst. (the morning of the mur-
der), a very large, tawny Orang-Outang of the Bor-
nese species. The owner (who is ascertained to be a
sailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel) may have the
animal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily, and
paying a few charges arising from its capture and

keeping. Call at No. Rue , Faubourg St.

Germain — au troisieme"

"How was it possible," I asked, "that you should
know the man to be a sailor, and belonging to a
Maltese vessel?"

"I do not know it," said Dupin. "I am not
sure of it. Here, however, is a small piece of rib-
bon, which from its form, and from its greasy ap-
pearance, has evidently been used in tying the hair
in one of those long queues of which sailors are so
fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few be-
sides sailors can tie, and it is peculiar to the Mai-

238 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

tese. I picked the ribbon up at the foot of the
lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either
of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in
my induction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman
was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can
have done no harm in saying what I did in the ad-
vertisement. If I am in error, he will merely sup-
pose that I have been misled by some circumstance
into which he will not take the trouble to inquire.
But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cog-
nizant although innocent of the murder, the French-
man will naturally hesitate about replying to the
advertisement — about demanding the Orang-Ou-
tang. He will reason thus: — 'I am innocent; I am
poor; my Orang-Outang is of great value — to one
in my circumstances a fortune of itself — why should
I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger?
Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in the
Bois de Boulogne — at a vast distance from the scene
of that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that
a brute beast should have done the deed? The
police are at fault — they have failed to procure the
slightest clew. Should they even trace the animal,
it would be impossible to prove me cognizant of the
murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of
that cognizance. Above all, I am known. The
advertiser designates me as the possessor of the
beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge
may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 239

of so great value, which it is known that I possess,
I will render the animal at least liable to suspicion.
It is not my policy to attract attention either to my-
self or to the beast. I will answer the advertise-
ment, get the Orang-Outang, and keep it close un-
til this matter has blown over.' "

At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs.

"Be ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, but
neither use them nor show them until at a signal
from myself."

The front door of the house had been left open,
and the visitor had entered, without ringing, and
advanced several steps upon the staircase. Now,
however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we
heard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly
to the door, when we again heard him coming up.
He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up
with decision, and rapped at the door of our
chamber.

"Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty
tone.

A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently — a
tall, stout, and muscular-looking person, with a
certain dare-devil expression of countenance, not al-
together unprepossessing. His face, greatly sun-
burned, was more than half hidden by whisker and
mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel,
but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowed
awkwardly, and bade us "good-evening," in French

240 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish,
were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin.

"Sit down, my friend," said Dupin. "I suppose
you have called about the Orang-Outang. Upon
my word, I almost envy you the possession of him^
a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable
animal. How old do you suppose him to be?"

The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a
man relieved of some intolerable burden, and then
replied, in an assured tone:

"I have no way of telling — but he can't be more
than four or five years old. Have you got him
here?"

"Oh, no; we had no conveniences for keeping
him here. He is at a livery stable in the Rue Du-
bourg, just by. You can get him in the morning.
Of course you are prepared to identify the prop-
erty?"

"To be sure I am, sir."

"I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin.

"I don't mean that you should be at all this trouble
for nothing, sir," said the man. "Couldn't expect it.
Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding of
the animal — that is to say, anything in reason."

"Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair,
to be sure. Let me think! — what should I have?
Oh ! I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You
shall give me all the information in your power
about these murders in the Rue Morgue."

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 241

Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and
very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked toward
the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it,
without the least flurry, upon the table.

The sailor's face flushed up as if he were strug-
gling with suffocation. He started to his feet and
grasped his cudgel; but the next moment he fell
back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the
countenance of death itself. He spoke not a word.
I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.

"My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "you are
alarming yourself unnecessarily — you are indeed.
We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the
honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we
intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that
you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue.
It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some
measure implicated in them. From what I have al-
ready said, you must know that I have had means of
information about this matter — means of which you
could never have dreamed. Now, the thing stands
thus. You have done nothing which you could have
avoided — nothing, certainly, which renders you cul-
pable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when
you might have robbed with impunity. You have
nothing to conceal. You have no reason for con-
cealment. On the other hand, you are bound by
every principle of honor to confess all you know.

242 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with
that crime of which you can point out the perpetra-
tor."

The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in
a great measure, while Dupin uttered these words;
but his original boldness of bearing was all gone.

"So help me God!" said he, after a brief pause,
"I will tell you all I know about this affair ; — but I
do not expect you to believe one half I say — I would
be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and
I will make a clean breast if I die for it."

What he stated was, in substance, this. He had
lately made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. A
party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo,
and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleas-
ure. Himself and a companion had captured the
Orang-Outang. This companion dying, the animal
fell into his own exclusive possession. After a great
trouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his
captive during the home voyage, he at length suc-
ceeded in lodging it safely at his own residence in
Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the un-
pleasant curiosity of his neighbors, he kept it care-
fully secluded, until such time as it should recover
from a wound in the foot, received from a splinter
on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it.

Returning home from some sailor's frolic on the
night, or rather in the morning, of the murder, he
found the beast occupying his own bedroom, into

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 243

which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it
had been, as was thought, securely confined. Razor
in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before a
looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving,
in which it had no doubt previously watched its mas-
ter through the keyhole of the closet. Terrified at
the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the possession
of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it,
the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to
do. He had been accustomed, however, to quiet the
creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a
whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of
it, the Orang-Outang sprang at once through the
door of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence,
through a window, unfortunately open, into the
street.

The Frenchman followed in despair ; the ape, razor
still in hand, occasionally stopping to look back and
gesticulate at his pursuer, until the latter had nearly
come up with it. It then again made off. In this
manner the chase continued for a long time. The
streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three
o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alley in
the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive's attention
was arrested by a light gleaming from the open win-
dow of Madame L'Espanaye's chamber, in the fourth
story of her house. Rushing to the building, it per-
ceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with incon-
ceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was

244 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

thrown fully back against the wall, and, by its means,
swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed.
The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shut-
ter was kicked open again by the Orang-Outang as
it entered the room.

'The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and
perplexed. He had strong hopes of now recapturing
the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap
into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where
it might be intercepted as it came down. On the
other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to
what it might do in the house. This latter reflection
urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A light-
ning-rod is ascended without difficulty, especially by
a sailor; but, when he had arrived as high as the
window, which lay far to his left, his career was
stopped; the most that he could accomplish was to
reach over so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of
the room. At this glimpse he nearly fell from his
hold through excess of horror. Now it was that
those hideous shrieks arose upon the night, which
had startled from slumber the inmates of the Rue
Morgue. Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter,
habited in their night clothes, had apparently been
occupied in arranging some papers in the iron chest
already mentioned, which had been wheeled into the
middle of the room. It was open, and its contents
lay beside it on the floor. The victims must have
been sitting with their backs toward the window;

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 245

and, from the time elapsing between the ingress of
the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it
was not immediately perceived. The flapping to of
the shutter would naturally have been attributed to
the wind.

As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had
seized Madame L'Espanaye by the hair { which was
loose, as she had been combing it), and was flourish-
ing the razor about her face, in imitation of the mo-
tions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and
motionless; she had swooned. The screams and
struggles of the old lady (during which the hair was
torn from her head) had the effect of changing the
probably pacific purposes of the Orang-Outang into
those of wrath. With one determined sweep of its
muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her
body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into
frenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire from
its eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl and im-
bedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its
grasp until she expired. Its wandering and wild
glances fell at this moment upon the head of the bed,
over which the face of its master, rigid with horror,
was just discernible. The fury of the beast, who
no doubt bore still in mind the dreaded whip, was in-
stantly converted into fear. Conscious of having de-
served punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing
its bloody deeds, and skipped about the chamber in
an agony of nervous agitation ; throwing down and

246 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

breaking the furniture as it moved, and dragging the
bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first
the corpse of the daughter, and thrust it up the chim-
ney, as it was found ; then that of the old lady, which
it immediately hurled through the window headlong.

As the ape approached the casement with its muti-
lated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to the rod,
and, rather gliding than clambering down it, hur-
ried at once home — dreading the consequences of the
butchery, and gladly abandoning, in his terror, all
solicitude about the fate of the Orang-Outang. The
words heard by the party upon the staircase were the
Frenchman's exclamations of horror and affright,
commingled with the fiendish jabberings of the
brute.

I have scarcely anything to add. The Orang-
Outang must have escaped from the chamber, by the
rod, just before the breaking of the door. It must
have closed the window as it passed through it. It
was subsequently caught by the owner himself, who
obtained for it a very large sum at the Jardin des
Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released, upon our
narration of the circumstances (with some comments
from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefect of Police.
This functionary, however well disposed to my
friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at
the trun which affairs had taken, and was fain to in-
dulge in a sarcasm or two about the propriety of
every person minding his own business.

The Murders in the Rue Morgue 247

"Let him talk," said Dupin, who had not thought
it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will
ease his conscience. I am satisfied with having de-
feated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he
failed in the solution of this mystery, is by no means
that matter for wonder which he supposes it ; for, in
truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too cun-
ning to be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen.
It is all head and no body, like the pictures of the
Goddess Laverna — or, at best, all head and shoul-
ders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature after
all. I like him especially for one master stroke of
cant, by which he has attained his reputation for in-
genuity ; I mean the way he has fde nier ce qui est} et
d'expliquer ce qui riest pas! "*

* Rousseau— Nouvelle Heloise.

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET *

A SEQUEL TO "THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE"

Es giebt eine Reihe idealischer Begebenheiten, die der Wirk-
lichkeit parallel lattft. Selten fallen sie zusammen. Men-
schen und zufalle modificiren gewohnlich die idealische
Begenbenheit, so dass sie unvollkommen erscheint, und
ihre Folgen gleichfalls unvollkommen sind. So bei der Ref-
ormation; statt des Protestantismus kam das Lutherthum
hervor.

There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the
real ones. They rarely coincide. Men and circumstances
generally modify the ideal train of events, so that it seems
imperfect, and its consequences are equally imperfect. Thus
with the Reformation; instead of Protestantism came Lu-
theranism. — Novalis.\ "Moral Ansichten."

THERE are few persons, even among the calmest
thinkers, who have not occasionally been star-
tled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the
supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly mar-
vellous a character that, as mere coincidences, the in-
tellect has been unable to receive them. Such senti-
ments— for the half -credences of which I speak have

* Upon the original publication of "Marie Roger," the foot-
notes now 'appended were considered unnecessary; but the
lapse of several years since the tragedy upon which the tale is
based, renders it expedient to give them, and also to say a few
words in explanation of the general design. A young girl,
Mary Cecilia Rogers, was murdered in the vicinity of New

f The nom de plume of Von Hardenburg.
048)

The Mystery of Marie Roget 249

M/i, >-j^JL A

never the full force of thought— such sentiments are
seldom thoroughly stifled unless by reference to the
doctrine of chance, or, as it is technically termed, the
Calculus of Probabilities. Now, this Calculus is, in
its essence, purely mathematical; and thus we have
the anomaly of the most rigidly exact in science ap-
plied to the shadow and spirituality of the most in-
tangible in speculation.

The extraordinary details which I am now called
upon to make public, will be found to form, as re-
gards sequence of time, the primary branch of a
series of scarcely intelligible coincidences, whose sec-
ondary or concluding branch will be recognized by

York; and although her death occasioned an intense and
long-enduring excitement, the mystery attending it had re-
mained unsolved at the period when the present paper was
written and published (November, 1842). Herein, under
pretence of relating the fate of a Parisian grisette, the author
has followed, in minute detail, the essential, while merely
paralleling the inessential, facts of the^ real murder of Mary
Rogers. , Thus all argument founded upon the fiction is ap-

^>ficable~to the truth: and the investigation of the truth was
the object, i

Tfie' ?rMystery of Marie Roget" was composed at a distance

from the scene of the atrocity, and with no other means of in-
vestigation than the newspapers afforded. Thus much escaped
the writer of which he could have availed himself had he been
upon the spot and visited the localities. It may not be im-
proper to record, nevertheless, that the confessions of two
persons (one of them the Madame Deluc of the narrative),
made, at different periods, long subsequent to the publica-
tion, confirmed, in full, not only the general conclusion, but
absolutely all the chief hypothetical details by which that
conclusion was attained.

250 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

all readers in the late murder of MARIE CECILIA
ROGERS, at New York.

When, in an article entitled "The Murders in the
Rue Morgue," I endeavored, about a year ago, to
depict some very remarkable features in the mental
character of my friend, the Chevalier C- Auguste
Dupin, it did not occur to me that I should ever re-
sume the subject. This depicting of character con-
stituted my design ; and this design was thoroughly
fulfilled in the wild train of circumstances brought
to instance Dupin's idios^ncn^..,,!, might have ad-
duced other examples, but I shoula have proved no

duced other examples, but I shoula have proved no
more. Late events, however, in their surprising de-
velopment, have startled me into some further details,
which will carry with them the air of extorted con-
fession. Hearing what I have lately heard, it would
be indeed strange should I remain silent in regard to
what I both heard and saw so long ago.

Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in
the deaths of Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter,
the Chevalier dismissed the affair at once from his
attention, and relapsed into his old habits of moody
revery. Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I read-
ily fell in with his humor ; and continuing to occupy
our chambers in the Faubourg Saint Germain, we
gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tran-
quilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around
us into dreams.

But these dreams were not altogether uninter-

The Mystery of Marie Roget 251

rupted. It may readily be supposed that the part
played by my friend in the drama at the Rue
Morgue had not failed of its impression upon the
fancies of the Parisian police. With its emissaries,
the name of Dupin had grown into a household
word. The simple character of those inductions by
which he had disentangled the mystery never having
been explained even to the Prefect, or to any other
individual than myself, of course it is not surprising
that the affair was regarded as little less than miracu-
lous, or that the Chevalier's analytical abilities ac-
( quired for him the credit of intuition. His frank-
ness would have led him to disabuse every inquirer
of such prejudice; but his indolent humor forbade
all further agitation of a topic whose interest to him-
self had long ceased. It thus happened that he
found himself the cynosure of the political eyes ; and
the cases were not few in which attempt was made to
engage his services at the Prefecture. One of the
most remarkable instances was that of the murder of
a young girl named Marie Roget.

This event occurred about two years after the
atrocity in the Rue Morgue. Marie, whose Chris-
tian and family name will at once arrest attention
from their resemblance to those of the unfortunate
"cigar girl," was the only daughter of the widow
Estelle Roget. The father had died during the
child's infancy, and from the period of his death,
until within eighteen months before the assassination

252 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

which forms the subject of our narrative, the mother
and daughter had dwelt together in the Rue Pavee
Saint Andree* ; Madame there keeping a pension, as-
sisted by Marie. Affairs went on thus until the lat-
ter had attained her twenty-second year, when her
great beauty attracted the notice of a perfumer, who
occupied one of the shops in the basement of the
Palais Royal, and whose custom lay chiefly among
the desperate adventurers infesting that neighbor-
hood. Monsieur Le Blanc t was not unaware of the
advantages to be derived from the attendance of the
fair Marie in his perfumery ; and his liberal proposals
were accepted eagerly by the girl, although with
somewhat more of hesitation by Madame.

The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized,-
and his rooms soon became notorious through the
charms of the sprightly grisette. She had been in
his employ about a year, when her admirers were
thrown into confusion by her sudden disappearance
from the shop. Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to
account for her absence, and Madame Roget was disj-
tracted with anxiety and terror. The public papers'
immediately took up the theme, and the police were
upon the point of making serious investigations,
when, one fine morning, after the lapse of a week,
Marie, in good health, but with a somewhat sad-
dened air, made her reappearance at her usual
counter in the perfumery. All inquiry, except that
* Nassau Street. f Anderson.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 253

of a private character, was, of course, immediately
hushed. Monsieur Le Blanc professed total igno-
rance, as before. Marie, with Madame, replied to
all questions, that the last week had been spent at
the house of a relation in the country. Thus the
affair died away, and was generally forgotten; for
the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself from the im-
pertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final adieu to the
perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother's
residence in the Rue Pavee Saint Andree.

It was about five months after this return home,
that her friends were alarmed by her sudden disap
pearance for the second time. \Three days elapsedj
and nothing was heard of her. ^Oh the fourth her
corpse was found floating in the Seine,* near the
shore which is opposite the Quartier of the Rue Saint
Andree, and at a point not very far distant from the /
secluded neighborhood of the Barriere du Roule.t

The atrocity of this murder (for it was at once
evident that murder had been committed), the youth
and beauty of the victim, and, above all, her previous
notoriety, conspired to produce intense excitement
in the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call to
mind no similar occurrence producing so general and
so intense an effect. For several weeks, in the dis-
cussion of this one absorbing theme, even the mo-
mentous political topics of the day were forgotten.
The prefect made unusual exertions ; and the powers
* The Hudson. fWeehawken.

254 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of the whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked
to the utmost extent.

Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not
supposed that the murderer would be able to elude,
for more than a very brief period, the inquisition
which was immediately set on foot. It was not until
the expiration of a week that it was deemed neces-
sary to offer a reward; and even then this reward
was limited to a thousand francs. In the meantime
the investigation proceeded with vigor, if not always
with judgment, and numerous individuals were ex-
amined to no purpose ; while, owing to the continual
absence of all clew to the mystery, the popular ex-
citement greatly increased. At the end of the tenth
day it was thought advisable to double the sum origi-
nally proposed ; and, at length, the second week hav-
ing elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the
prejudice which always exists in Paris against the
police having given vent to itself in several serious
emeutes, the prefect took it upon himself to offer the
sum of twenty thousand francs "for the conviction
of the assassin," or, if more than one should prove
to have been implicated, "for the conviction of any
one of the assassins." In the proclamation setting
forth this reward, a full pardon was promised to any
accomplice who should come forward in evidence
against his fellow; and to the whole was appended,
wherever it appeared, the private placard of a com-
mittee of citizens, offering ten thousand francs, in

The Mystery of Marie Roget 255

addition to the amount proposed by the Prefecture.
The entire reward thus stood at no less than thirty
thousand francs, which will be regarded as an ex-
traordinary sum when we consider the humble con-
dition of the girl, and the great frequency, in large
cities, of such atrocities as the one described.

No one doubted now that the mystery of this mur-
der would be immediately brought to light. But al-
though, in one or two instances, arrests were made
which promised elucidation, yet nothing was elicited
which could implicate the parties suspected ; and they
were discharged forthwith. Strange as it may
appear, the third week from the discovery of the
body had passed, and passed without any light being
thrown upon the subject, before even a rumor of the
events which had so agitated the public mind reached
the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches
which had absorbed our whole attention, it had been
nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad,
or received a visitor, or more than glanced at the
leading political articles in one of the daily papers.
The first intelligence of the murder was brought us
by G - , in person. He called upon us early in the
afternoon of the thirteenth of July, 18 — , and re-
mained with us until late in the night. He had been
piqued by the failure of all his endeavors to ferret out
the assassins. His reputation — so he said with a
peculiarly Parisian air — was at stake. Even his
honor was concerned. The eyes of the public were

y

256 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

upon him ; and there was really no sacrifice which he
would not be willing to make for the development of
the mystery. He concluded a somewhat droll speech
with a compliment upon what he was pleased to term
the tact of Dupin, and made him a direct and cer-
tainly a liberal proposition, the precise nature of
which I do not feel myself at liberty to disclose, but
which has no bearing upon the proper subject of my
narrative.

The compliment my friend rebutted as best he
could, but the proposition he accepted at once, al-
though its advantages were altogether provisional.
This point being settled, the Prefect broke forth at
once into explanations of his own views, interspers-
ing them with long comments upon the evidence ; of
which latter we were not yet in possession. He dis-
coursed much, and, beyond doubt, learnedly ; while I
hazarded an occasional suggestion as the night wore
drowsily away. Dupin, sitting steadily in his accus-
tomed armchair, was the embodiment of respectful
attention. He wore spectacles during the whole in-
terview ; and an occasional glance beneath their green
glasses sufficed to convince me that he slept not the
less soundly, because silently, throughout the seven
or eight leaden-footed hours which immediately pre-
ceded the departure of the Prefect.

In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a
full report of all the evidence elicited, and, at the va-
rious newspaper offices, a copy of every paper in

The Mystery of Marie Roget 257

which, from first to last, had been published any de-"^
cisive information in regard to this sad affair. Freed
from all that was positively disproved, this mass of
information stood thus :

Marie Roget left the residence of her mother, in
the Rue Pavee St. Andree, about nine o'clock in the
morning of Sunday, June the twenty-second, 18 — .
In going out, she gave notice to a Monsieur Jacques
St. Eustache,* and to him only, of her intention to
spend the day with an aunt, who resided in the Rue
des Dromes. The Rue des Dromes is a short and
narrow but populous thoroughfare, not far from the
banks of the river, and at a distance of some two
miles, in the most direct course possible, from the
pension of Madame Roget. St. Eustache was the
accepted suitor of Marie, and lodged, as well as took
his meals, at the pension. He was to have gone
for his betrothed at dusk, and to have escorted her
home. In the afternoon, however, it came on to
rain heavily; and, supposing that she would remain
all night at her aunt's (as she had done under similar
circumstances before), he did not think it necessary
to keep his promise. As night drew on, Madame
Roget (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years
of age) was heard to express a fear "that she should
never see Marie again"; but this observation at-
tracted little attention at the time.

On Monday it was ascertained that the girl had
* Payne.

258 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

not been to the Rue des Dromes ; and when the day
elapsed without tidings of her, a tardy search was
instituted at several points in the city and its en-
virons. It was not, however, until the fourth day
from the period of her disappearance that anything
satisfactory was ascertained respecting her. On this
day (Wednesday, the twenty-fifth of June) a Mon-
sieur Beauvais,* who, with a friend, had been mak-
ing inquiries for Marie near the Barriere du Roule,
on the shore of the Seine which is opposite the Rue
Pavee St. Andree, was informed that a corpse had
just been towed ashore by some fishermen, who had
found it. floating in the river. Upon seeing the body,
Beauvais, after some hesitation, identified it as that
of the perfumery girl. His friend recognized it more
promptly.

The face was suffused with dark blood, some of
which issued from the mouth. No foam was seen,
as in the case of the merely drowned. There was no
discoloration in the cellular tissue. About the throat
were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms
were bent over on the chest, and were rigid. The
right hand was clenched ; the left partially open. On
the left wrist were two circular excoriations, appar-
ently the effect of ropes, or of a rope in more than
one volution. A part of the right wrist, also, was
much chafed, as well as the back throughout its ex-

* Crommelin.

THe Mystery of Marie Roget 259

tent, but more especially at the shoulder-blades. In
bringing the body to the shore the fishermen had at-
tached to it a rope, but none of the excoriations had
been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was
much swollen. There were no cuts apparent, or
bruises which appeared the effect of blows. A piece
of lace was found tied so tightly around the neck as
to be hidden from sight ; it was completely buried in
the flesh, and was fastened by a knot which lay just
under the left ear. This alone would have sufficed
to produce death. The medical testimony spoke con-
fidently of the virtuous character of the deceased.
She had been subjected, it is said, to brutal violence.
The corpse was in such condition when found, that
there could have been no difficulty in its recognition
by friends.

The dress was much torn and otherwise disor-
dered. In the outer garment, a slip, about a foot
wide, had been torn upward from the bottom hem
to the waist, but not torn off. It was wound three
times around the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch
in the back. The dress immediately beneath the
frock was of fine muslin ; and from this a slip eigh-
teen inches wide had been torn entirely out — torn
very evenly and with great care. It was found
around her neck, fitting loosely, and secured with a
hard knot. Over this muslin slip and the slip of lace
the strings of a bonnet were attached, the bonnet be-
ing appended. The knot by which the strings of

260 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the bonnet were fastened was not a lady's, but a slip
or sailor's knot.

After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as
usual, taken to the Morgue (this formality being su-
perfluous), but hastily interred not far from the spot
at which it was brought ashore. Through the exer-
tions of Beauvais, the matter was industriously
hushed up, as far as possible; and several days had
elapsed before any public emotion resulted. A weekly
paper,* however, at length took up the theme; the
corpse was disinterred, and a re-examination insti-
tuted ; but nothing was elicited beyond what has been
already noted. The clothes, however, were now sub-
mitted to the mother and friends of the deceased, and
fully identified as those worn by the girl upon leav-
ing home.

Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Sev-
eral individuals were arrested and discharged. St
Eustache fell especially under suspicion; and he
failed, at first, to give an intelligible account of his
whereabout during the Sunday on which Marie left
home. Subsequently, however, he submitted to Mon-
sieur G , affidavits, accounting satisfactorily for

every hour of the day in question. As time passed
no discovery ensued, a thousand contradictory ru-
mors were circulated, and journalists busied them-
sejs£s4n ]fuggestions. ( Among these, the one which
attracted the most notice was the idea that Marie
* The New York "Mercury."

The Mystery of Marie Roget 261

Roget still lived—that the corpse found in the Seine
was that of some other unfortunate. It will be
proper that I submit to the reader some passages
which embody the suggestion alluded to. These
passages are literal translations from "L'Etoile,"* a
paper conducted, in general, with much ability.

"Mademoiselle Roget left her mother's house on

Sunday morning, June the twenty-second, 18 — , with
the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt, or
some other connection, in the Rue des Dromes.
From that hour nobody is proved to have seen her.
There is no trace or tidings of her at all. . . . There
has no person, whatever, come forward, so far, who
saw her at all on that day, after she left her mother's
door. . . . Now, though we have no evidence that
Marie Roget was in the land of the living after nine
o'clock on Sunday, June the twenty-second, we have
proof that, up to that hour, she was alive. On
Wednesday noon, at twelve, a female body was dis-
covered afloat on the shore of the Barriere du Roule.
This was, even if we presume that Marie Roget was
thrown into the river within three hours after she
left her mother's house, only three days from the
time she left her home — three days to an hour. But
it is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder was
committed on her body, could have been consum-

* The New York "Brother Jonathan," edited by H. Has-
tings Weld, Esq.

262 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

mated soon enough to have enabled her murderers to
throw the body into the river before midnight.
Those who are guilty of such horrid crimes choose
darkness rather than light. . . . Thus we see that
if the body found in the river was that of Marie
Roget, it could only have been in the water two and
a half days, or three at the outside. All experience
has shown that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown
into the water immediately after death by violence,
require from six to ten days for sufficient decompo-
sition to take place to bring them to the top of the
water. Even where a cannon is fired over a corpse,
and it rises before at least five or six days' immer-
sion, it sinks again, if left alone. Now, we ask,
what was there in this case to cause a departure from
the ordinary course of nature? ... If the body
had been kept in its mangled state on shore until
Tuesday night, some trace would be found on shore
of the murderers. It is a doubtful point, also,
whether the body would be so soon afloat, even were
it thrown in after having been dead two days. And,
furthermore, it is exceedingly improbable that any
villains who had committed such a murder as is here
supposed, would have thrown the body in without
weight to sink it, when such a precaution could have
so easily been taken."

The editor here proceeds to argue that the body
must have been in the water "not three days merely,

The Mystery of Marie Roget 263

but, at least, five times three days," because it was so
far decomposed that Beauvais had great difficulty in
recognizing it. This latter point, however, was fully
disproved. I continue the translation :

"What, then, are the facts on which M. Beauvais
says that he has no doubt the body was that of Marie
Roget ? He ripped up the gown sleeve, and says he
found marks which satisfied him of the identity. The
public generally supposed those marks to have con-
sisted of some description of scars. He rubbed the
arm and found hair upon it — something as indefi-
nite, we think, as can readily be imagined — as little
conclusive as finding an arm in the sleeve. M. Beau-
vais did not return that night, but sent word to Ma-
dame Roget, at seven o'clock, on Wednesday even-
ing, that an investigation was still in progress re-
specting her daughter. If we allow that Madame
Roget, from her age and grief, could not go over
(which is allowing a great deal), there certainly
must have been some one who would have thought
it worth while to go over and attend the investiga-
tion, if they thought the body was that of Marie.
Nobody went over. There was nothing said or heard
about the matter in the Rue Pavee St. Andree, that
reached even the occupants of the same building.
M. St. Eustache, the lover and intended husband of
Marie, who boarded in her mother's house, deposes
that he did not hear of the discovery of the body of

264 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

his intended until the next morning, when M. Beau-
vais came into his chamber and told him of it. For
an item of news like this, it strikes us it was very
coolly received."

In this way the journal endeavored to create the
impression of an apathy on the part of the relatives
of Marie, inconsistent with the supposition that these
relatives believed the corpse to be hers. Its insinua-
tions amount to this: that Marie, with the con-
nivance of her friends, had absented herself from the
city for reasons involving a charge against her chas-
tity; and that these friends upon the discovery of a
corpse in the Seine, somewhat resembling that of the
i girl, had availed themselves^ of the opportunity to
i impress the public with the belief of her death. But
"L'Etoile" was again over-hasty. It was distinctly
proved that no apathy, such as was imagined, ex-
isted ; that the old lady was exceedingly feeble, and
so agitated as to be unable to attend to any duty;
that St. Eustache, so far from receiving the news
coolly, was distracted with grief, and bore himself
so frantically, that M. Beauvais prevailed upon a
friend and relative to take charge of him, and
prevent his attending the examination at the dis-
interment. Moreover, although it was stated by
"L'Etoile" that the corpse was reinterred at the
public expense, that an advantageous offer of private
sepulture was absolutely declined by the family, and

The Mystery of Marie Roget 265

that no member of the family attended the cere-
monial;— although, I say, all this was asserted by
"L'Etoile" in furtherance of the impression it de-
signed to convey — yet all this was satisfactorily dis-
proved. In a subsequent number of the paper, an
attempt was made to throw suspicion upon Beauvais
himself. The editor says :

"Now, then, a change comes over the matter. We
are told that, on one occasion, while a Madame

B was at Madame Roget's house, M. Beauvais,

who was going out, told her that a gendarme was
expected there, and that she, Madame B., must not
say anything to the gendarme until he returned, but
let the matter be for him. ... In the present pos-
ture of affairs, M. Beauvais appears to have the
whole matter locked up in his head. A single step
can not be taken without M. Beauvais, for, go which
way you will, you run against him. . . . For some
reason he determined that nobody shall have any-
thing to do with the proceedings but himself, and he
has elbowed the male relatives out of the way, ac-
cording to their representations, in a very singular
manner. He seems to have been very much averse
to permitting the relatives to see the body."

By the following fact, some color was given to the
suspicion thus thrown upon Beauvais. A visitor at
his office, a few days prior to the girl's disappear-
ance, and during the absence of its occupant, had ob-

I— Poe— 12

266 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

served a rose in the keyhole of the door, and the
name "Marie" inscribed upon a slate which hung
near at hand.

The general impression, so far as we were enabled
to glean it from the newspapers, seemed to be, that
Marie had been the victim of a gang of desperadoes
— that by these she had been borne across the river,
maltreated, and murdered. "Le Commerciel,"*
however, a print of extensive influence, was earnest
in combating this popular idea. I quote a passage
or two from its columns :

"We are persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been
on a false scent, so far as it has been directed to the
Barriere du Roule. It is impossible that a person
so well known to thousands as this young woman
was, should have passed three blocks without some
one having seen her; and any one who saw her
would have remembered it, for she interested all who
knew her. It was when the streets were full of
people, when she went out. ... It is impossible
that she could have gone to the Barriere du Roule,
or to the Rue des Dromes, without being recognized
by a dozen persons; yet no one has come forward
who saw her outside her mother's door, and there is
no evidence, except the testimony concerning her
expressed intentions, that she did go out at all. Her
gown was torn, bound round her, and tied; and by

* New York "Journal of Commerce."

The Mystery of Marie Roget 267

that the body was carried as a bundle. If the mur-
der had been committed at the Barriere du Roule,
there would have been no necessity for any such ar-
rangement. The fact that the body was found float-
ing near the Barriere is no proof as to where it was
thrown into the water. ... A piece of one of the
unfortunate girl's petticoats, two feet long and one
foot wide, was torn out and tied under her chin
around the back of her head, probably to prevent
screams. This was done by fellows who had no
pocket-handkerchief."

^MlH

A day or two before the Prefect called upon us,

however, some important information reached the
police, which seemed to overthrow, at least, the chief
portion of "Le Commerciers" argument. Two
small boys, sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming
among the woods near the Barriere du Roule,
chanced to penetrate a close thicket, within which
were three or four large stones, forming a kind of
seat with a back and footstool. On the upper stone
lay a white petticoat ; on the second, a silk scarf. A
parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief were also
here found. The handkerchief bore the name
"Marie Roget." Fragments of dress were discov-
ered on the brambles around. The earth was tram-
pled, the bushes were broken, and there was every
evidence of a struggle. Between the thicket and the
river, the fences were found taken down, and the

268 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ground bore evidence of some heavy burden having
been dragged along it.

A weekly paper, "Le Soleil,"* had the following
comments upon this discovery — comments which
merely echoed the sentiment of the whole Parisian
press :

"The things had all evidently been there at least
three or four weeks; they were all mildewed down
hard with the action of the rain, and stuck together
from mildew. The grass had grown around and
over some of them. The silk on the parasol was
strong, but the threads of it were run together with-
in. The upper part, where it had been doubled and
folded, was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on its
being opened. . . . The pieces of her frock torn
out by the bushes were about three inches wide and
six inches long. One part was the hem of the frock,
and it had been mended ; the other piece was part of
the skirt, not the hem. They looked like strips torn
.off, and were on the thorn bush, about a foot from
the ground. . . . There can be no doubt, there-
fore, that the spot of this appalling outrage has been
discovered."

5* .--.

Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence ap-
peared. Madame Deluc testified that she keeps a
roadside inn not far from the bank of the river, op-

* Philadelphia "Saturday Evening Post," edited by - C. I.
Peterson, Esq.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 269

posite the Barriere du Roule. The neighborhood is
secluded — particularly so. It is the usual Sunday
resort .of blackguards from the city, who cross the
river in boats. About three o'clock, in the afternoon
of the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at
the inn, accompanied by a young man of dark com-
plexion. The two remained here for some time.
On their departure, they took the road to some thick
woods in the vicinity. Madame Deluc's attention
was called to the dress worn by the girl, on account
its resemblance to one worn by a deceased relative.
A scarf was particularly noticed. Soon after the de-
parture of the couple, a gang of miscreants made
their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and
drank without making payment, followed in the
route of the young man and girl, returned to the
inn about dusk, and recrossed the river as if in great
haste.

It was soon«after dark, upon this same evening,
that Madame Deluc, as well as her eldest son, heard
the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn.
The screams were violent but brief. Madame D.
recognized not only the scarf which was found in the
thicket, but the dress which was discovered upon the
corpse. An omnibus driver, Valence,* now also tes-
tified that he saw Marie Roget cross a ferry on the
Seine, on the Sunday in question, in company with
a young man of dark complexion. He, Valence,
* Adam.

270 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

knew Marie, and could not be mistaken in her iden-
tity. The articles found in the thicket were fully
identified by the relatives of Marie.

The items of evidence and information thus col-
1 / lected by myself, from the newspapers, at the sugges-///
/ // tion of Dupin, embraced only one more point — but
this was a point of seemingly vast consequence. It
appears that, immediately after the discovery of the
clothes as above described, the lifeless or nearly life-
less body of St. Eustache, Marie's betrothed, was
found in the vicinity of what all now supposed the
scene of the outrage. A phial labelled "laudanum,"
and emptied, was found near him. His breath gave
evidence of the poison. He died without speaking.
Upon his person was found a letter, briefly stating
his love for Marie, with his design of self-destruc-
tion.

"I need scarcely tell you," said Dupin, as he fin-
ished the perusal of my notes, "that this is a far
more intricate case than that of the Rue Morgue;
, from which it differs in one important respect. This
is an ordinary, although an atrocious, instance of
crime. There is nothing peculiarly outre about it.
You will observe that, for this reason, the mystery
has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it ,
should have been considered difficult, of solution, if
Thus, at first, it was thought unnecessary to offer a

reward. The myrmidons of G were able at

once to comprehend how and why such an atrocity

The Mystery of Marie Roget 271

might have been committed. They could picture to
their imaginations a mode — many modes — and a
motive — many motives; and because it was not im-
possible that either of these numerous modes and
motives could have been the actual one, they have
taken it for granted that one of them must. But the
ease with which these variable fancies were enter-
tained, and the very plausibility which each assumed,
should have been understood as indicative rather of
the difficulties than of the facilities which must at-
tend elucidation. I have, therefore, observed that it
is by prominences above the plane of the ordinary,
that reason feels her way, if at all, in her search for
the true, and that the proper question in cases such
as this, is not so much 'what has occurred?' as
'what has occurred that has never occurred before?'
In the investigations at the house of Madame L'Es-

panaye,* the agents of G were discouraged and

confounded by that very unusualness which, to a
properly regulated intellect, would have afforded the
surest omen of success; while this same intellect
might have been plunged in despair at the ordinary
character of all that met the eye in the case of the
perfumery girl, and yet told of nothing but easy tri-
umph to the functionaries of the Prefecture.

"In the case of Madame L'Espanaye and her
daughter, there was, even at the beginning of our

* See "Murders in the Rue Morgue."

272 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

r

investigation, no doubt that murder had been com-
mitted. The idea of suicide was excluded at once.
Here, too, we are freed, at the commencement, from
all supposition of self-murder. The body found at
the Barriere du Roule was found under such cir-
cumstances as to leave us no room for embarrass-
ment upon this important point. But it has been
suggested that the corpse discovered is not that of
the Marie Roget for the conviction of whose as-
sassin, or assassins, the reward is offered, and re-
specting whom, solely, our agreement has been ar-
ranged with the Prefect. We both know this gen-
tleman well. It will not do to trust him too far.
If, dating our inquiries from the body found, and
then tracing a murderer, we yet discover this body
to be that of some other individual than Marie; or
if, starting from the living Marie, we find her, yet
find her unassassinated — in either case we lose our la-
bor ; since it is Monsieur G with whom we have

to deal. For our own purpose, therefore, if not for
the purpose of justice, it is indispensable that our
first step should be the determination of the identity
of the corpse with the Marie Roget who is missing.
"With the public the arguments of 'L'Etoile' have
had weight; and that the journal itself is convinced
of their importance would appear from the manner
in which it commences one of its essays upon the
subject — 'Several of the morning papers of the day/
it says, 'speak of the conclusive article in Monday's

The Mystery of Marie Roget 273

"Etoile." ' To me, this article appears conclusive
of little beyond the zeal of its inditer. We should
bear in mind that, in general, it is the object of our
newspapers rather to create a sensation — to make a
point — than to further the cause of truth. The lat-
ter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with
the former. The print which merely falls in with
ordinary opinion (however well founded this opinion
may be) earns for itself no credit with the mob.
The mass of the people regard as profound only him
who suggests pungent contradictions of the general
idea. In ratiocination, not less than in literature, it is
the epigram which is the most immediately and the , ^^
most universally appreciated. In both, it is of the
lowest order of merit.

"What I mean to say is, that it is the mingled
epigram and melodrame of the idea, that Marie
Roget still lives, rather than any true plausibility in
this idea, which have suggested it to 'L'Etoile,' and
secured it a favorable reception with the public. Let
us examine the heads of this journal's argument; en-
deavoring to avoid the incoherence with which it is
originally set forth.

"The first aim of the writer is to show, from the
brevity of the interval between Marie's disappear-
ance and the finding of the floating corpse, that this
corpse cannot be that of Marie. The reduction of
this interval to its smallest possible dimension, be-
comes thus, at once, an object with the reasoner.

rS\

274 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

In the rash pursuit of this object, he rushes into mere
assumption at the outset. 'It is folly to suppose/ he
says, 'that the murder, if murder was committed on
her body, could have been consummated soon enough
to have enabled her murderers to throw the body
into the river before midnight/ We demand at
once, and very naturally, why? Why is it folly to
suppose that the murder was committed within five
minutes after the girl's quitting her mother's house?
Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was com-
mitted at any given period of the day? There have
been assassinations at all hours. But, had the mur-
der taken place at any moment between nine o'clock
in the morning of Sunday and a quarter before mid-
night, there would still have been time enough 'to
throw the body into the river before midnight/
This assumption/ then, amounts precisely to this —
that the murder was not committed on Sunday at all
— and, if we allow 'L'Etoile' to assume this, we may
permit it any liberties whatever. The paragraph
beginning 'It is folly to suppose that the murder,
etc./ however it appears as printed in 'L'Etoile/ may
be imagined to have existed actually thus in the
brain of its inditer: 'It is folly to suppose that the
murder, if murder was committed on the body, could
have been committed soon enough to have enabled
her murderers to throw the body into the river be-
fore midnight ; it is folly, we say, to suppose all this,
and to suppose at the same time (as we are resolved

The Mystery of Marie Roget 275

to suppose), that the body was not thrown in until
after midnight' — a sentence sufficiently inconsequen-
tial in itself, but not so utterly preposterous as the
one printed.

"Were it my purpose," continued Dupin, "merely
to make out a case against this passage of 'L'Etoile's'
argument, I might safely leave it where it is. It is
not, however, with 'L'Etoile' that we have to do, but
with the truth. The sentence in question has but
one meaning, as it stands ; and this meaning I have
fairly stated; but it is material that we go behind
the mere words, for an idea which these words have
obviously intended, and failed to convey. It was
the design of the journalists to say that at whatever
period of the day or night of Sunday this murder
was committed, it was improbable that the assassins
would have ventured to bear the corpse to the river
before midnight. And herein lies, really, the as-
sumption of which I complain. It is assumed that
the murder was committed at such a position, and
under such circumstances, that the bearing it to the
river became necessary. Now, the assassination
might have taken place upon the river's brink, or on
the river itself ; and, thus, the throwing the corpse in
the water might have been resorted to at any period
of the day or night, as the most obvious and most
immediate mode of disposal. You will understand
that I suggest nothing here as probable, or as co-in-
cident with my opinion. My design, so far, has no

276 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

reference to the facts of the case. I wish merely
to caution you against the whole tone of 'L'Etoile's*
suggestion, by calling your attention to its ex-parte
character at the outset.

"Having prescribed thus a limit to suit its own
preconceived notions; having assumed that, if this
were the body of Marie, it could have been in the
water but a very brief time, the journal goes on to
say:

" 'All experience has shown that drowned bodies,
or bodies thrown into the water immediately after
death by violence, require from six to ten days for
sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them
to the top of the water. Even when a cannon is
fired over a corpse, and it rises before at least five or
six days' immersion, it sinks again if let alone/

"These assertions have been tacitly received by
every paper in Paris, with the exception of 'Le
Moniteur.'* This latter print endeavors to combat
that portion of the paragraph which has reference to
'drowned bodies' only, by citing some five or six
instances in which the bodies of individuals known to
be drowned were found floating after the lapse of
less time than is insisted upon by 'L'Etoile.' But
there is something excessively unphilosophical in the
attempt, on the part of 'Le Moniteur/ to rebut the

* The New York "Commercial Advertiser," edited by Colonel
Stone.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 277

general assertion of 'L'Etoile,' by a citation of par-
ticular instances militating against that assertion.
Had it been possible to adduce fifty instead of five
examples of bodies found floating at the end of two
or three days, these fifty examples could still have
been properly regarded only as exceptions to
'L'EtoileV rule, until such time as the rule itself
should be confuted. Admitting the rule (and this
'Le Moniteur' does not deny, insisting merely upon
its exceptions), the argument of 'L'Etoile' is suffered
to remain in full force; for this argument does not
pretend to involve more than a question of the
probability of the body having risen to the surface
in less than three days ; and this probability will be in
favor of 'L'EtoileY position until the instances so
childishly adduced shall be sufficient in number to
establish an antagonistical rule.

"You will see at once that all argument upon this
head should be urged, if at all, against the rule itself ;
and for this end we must examine the rationale of
the rule. Now the human body, in general, is
neither much lighter nor much heavier than the
water of the Seine; that is to say, the specific gravity
of the human body, in its natural condition, is about
equal to the bulk of fresh water which it displaces.
The bodies of fat and fleshy persons, with small
bones, and of women generally, are lighter than
those of the lean and large-boned, and of men ; and
the specific gravity of the water of a river is some-

278 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

what influenced by the presence of the tide from the
sea. But, leaving this tide out of the question, it
may be said that very few human bodies will sink at
all, even in fresh water, of their own accord. Almost
any one, falling into a river, will be enabled to float,
if he suffer the specific gravity of the water fairly
to be adduced in comparison with his own — that is
to say, if he suffer his whole person to be immersed,
with as little exception as possible. The proper posi-
tion for one who can not swim is the upright position
of the walker on land, with the head thrown fully
back, and immersed; the mouth and nostrils alone
remaining about the surface. Thus circumstanced,
we shall find that we float without difficulty and
without exertion. It is evident, however, that the
gravities of the body, and of the bulk of water dis-
placed, are very nicely balanced, and that a trifle
will cause either to preponderate. An arm, for in-
stance, uplifted from the water, and thus deprived of
its support, is an additional weight sufficient to im-
merse the whole head, while the accidental aid of the
smallest piece of timber will enable us to elevate the
head so as to look about. Now, in the struggles of
one unused to swimming, the arms are invariably
thrown upward, while an attempt is made to keep
the head in its usual perpendicular position. The re-
sult is the immersion of the mouth and nostrils, and
the inception, during efforts to breathe while beneath
the surface, of water into the lungs. Much is also

The Mystery of Marie Roget 279

received into the stomach, and the whole body be-
comes heavier by the difference between the weight
of the air originally distending these cavities, and
that of the fluid which now fills them. This differ-
ence is sufficient to cause the body to sink, as a gen-
eral rule ; but is insufficient in the case of individuals
with small bones and an abnormal quantity of flac-
cid or fatty matter. Such individuals float even af-
ter drowning.

"The corpse, being supposed at the bottom of the
river, will there remain until, by some means, its
specific gravity again becomes less than that of the
bulk of water which it displaces. This effect is
brought about by decomposition, or otherwise. The
result of decomposition is the generation of gas,
distending the cellular tissues and all the cavities,
and giving the puffed appearance which is so horri-
ble. When this distension has so far progressed that
the bulk of the corpse is materially increased without
a corresponding increase of mass or weight, its
specific gravity becomes less than that of the water
displaced, and it forthwith makes its appearance at
the surface. But decomposition is modified by in-
numerable circumstances — is hastened or retarded by
innumerable agencies; for example, by the heat or
cold of the season, by the mineral impregnation or
purity of the water, by its depth or shallowness, by
its currency or stagnation, by the temperament of
the body, by its infection or freedom from disease

280 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

before death. Thus it is evident that we can assign
no period, with anything like accuracy, at which the
corpse shall rise through decomposition. Under cer-
tain conditions this result would be brought about
: within an hour; under others it might not take place
at all. There are chemical infusions by which the
animal frame can be preserved forever from cor-
ruption; the bi-chloride of mercury is one. But,
apart from decomposition, there may be, and very
usually is, a generation of gas within the stomach,
from the acetous fermentation of vegetable matter
(or within other cavities from other causes), suffi-
cient to induce a distension which will bring the
body to the surface. The effect produced by the
firing of a cannon is that of simple vibration. This
may either loosen the corpse from the soft mud or
ooze in which it is imbedded, thus permitting it to
rise when other agencies have already prepared it
for so doing; or it may overcome the tenacity of
some putrescent portions of the cellular tissue, al-
lowing the cavities to distend under the influence of
the gas.

"Having thus before us the whole philosophy of
this subject, we can easily test by it the assertions of
'L'Etoile.' 'All experience shows/ says this paper,
'that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into the
water immediately after death by violence, require
from six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to
take place to bring them to the top of the water.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 281

Even when a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it
rises before at least five or six days' immersion, it
sinks again if let alone/

"The whole of this paragraph must now appear a
tissue of inconsequence and incoherence. All experi-
ence does not show that 'drowned x bodies' require
from six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to
take place to bring them to the surface. Both
science and experience show that the period of their
rising is, and necessarily must be, indeterminate. If,
moreover, a body has risen to the surface through
firing of cannon, it will not 'sink again if let alone/
until decomposition has so far progressed as to per-
mit the escape of the generated gas. But I wish to
call your attention to the distinction which is made
between 'drowned bodies,' and 'bodies thrown into
the water immediately after death by violence.' Al-
though the writer admits the distinction, he yet in-
cludes them all in the same category. I have shown
how it is that the body of a drowning man becomes
specifically heavier than its bulk of water, and that
he would not sink at all, except for the struggle by
which he elevates his arms above the surface, and his
gasps for breath while beneath the surface — gasps
which supply by water the place of the original air in
the lungs. But these struggles and these gasps would
not occur in the body 'thrown into the water imme-
diately after death by violence/ Thus, in the latter
instance, the body, as a general rule, would not sink

282 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

/ r\fv~-\

at all — a fact of which 'L'Etoile' is evidently igno-
rant. When decomposition had proceeded to a very
great extent — when the flesh had in a great measure
left the bones — then, indeed, but not till then, should
we lose sight of the corpse.

"And now what are we to make of the argument,
that the body found could not be that of Marie
Roget, because, three days only having elapsed, this
body was found floating? If drowned, being a
woman, she might never have sunk ; or, having sunk,
might have re-appeared in twenty- four hours or less.
But no one supposes her to have been drowned ; and,
dying before being thrown into the river, she might
have been found floating at any period afterward
whatever.

" 'But/ says 'L'Etoile/ 'if the body had been kept
in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night,
some trace would be found on shore of the mur-
derers/ Here it is at first difficult to perceive the
intention of the reasoner. He means to antici-
pate what he imagines would be an objection to his
theory — viz. : that the body was kept on shore two
days, suffering rapid decomposition — more rapid
than if immersed in water. He supposes that, had
this been the case, it might have appeared at the sur-
face on the Wednesday, and thinks that only under
such circumstances it could have so appeared. He is
accordingly in haste to show that it was not kept on
shore; for, if so, 'some trace would be found on

The Mystery of Marie Roget 283

shore of the murderers/ I presume you smile at the
sequitur. You can not be made to see how the mere
duration of the corpse on the shore could operate to
multiply traces of the assassins. Nor can I.

" 'And furthermore it is exceedingly improbable/
continues our journal, 'that any villains who had
committed such a murder as is here supposed, would
have thrown the body in without weight to sink it, c
when such a precaution could have so easily been
taken/ Observe, here, the laughable confusion of
thought ! No one — not even 'L'Etoile' — disputes the
murder committed on the body found. The marks
of violence are too obvious. It is our reasoner's ob-
ject merely to show that this body is not Marie's.
He wishes to prove that Marie is not assassinated —
not that the corpse was not. Yet his observation
proves only the latter point. Here is a corpse with-
V in out weight attached. Murderers, casting it in, would
1 not have failed to attach a weight. Therefore it was
not thrown in by murderers. This is all which is
proved, if any thing is. The question of identity is
not even approached, and 'L'Etoile' has been at great
pains merely to gainsay now what it has admitted
only a moment before. 'We are perfectly convinced/
it says, 'that the body found was that of a murdered
female/

"Nor is this the sole instance, even in this division
of his subject, where our reasoner unwittingly rea-
sons against himself. His evident object, I have al-

284 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

ready said, is to reduce, as much as possible, the in-
terval between Marie's disappearance and the finding
of the corpse. Yet we find him urging the point that
no person saw the girl from the moment of her leav-
ing her mother's house. 'We have no evidence/ he
says, 'that Marie Roget was in the land of the living
after nine o'clock on Sunday, June the twenty-
second.' As his argument is obviously an ex-par te
one, he should, at least, have left this matter out of
sight ; for had any one been known to see Marie, say
on Monday, or on Tuesday, the interval in question
would have been much reduced, and, by his own ra-
tiocination, the probability much diminished of the
corpse being that of the grisette. It is, nevertheless,
amusing to observe that T/Etoile' insists upon its
point in the full belief of its furthering its general
argument.

- "Re-peruse now that portion of this argument
which has reference to the identification of the corpse
by Beauvais. In regard to the hair upon the arm,
'L'Etoile' has been obviously disingenuous. M. Beau-
vais, not being an idiot, could never have urged in
identification of the corpse, simply hair upon its arm.
No arm is without hair. The generality of the ex-
pression of 'L'Etoile' is a mere perversion of the wit-
ness's phraseology. He must have spoken of some
peculiarity in this hair. It must have been a pe-
culiarity of color, oi quantity, of length, or of situa-
tion.

The Mystery of .Marie Roget 285

" 'Her foot/ says the journal, 'was small' — so are
thousands of feet. Her garter is no proof whatever
— nor is her shoe — for shoes and garters are sold in
packages. The same may be said of the flowers in
her hat. One thing upon which M. Beauvais
strongly insists is, that the clasp on the garter found
had been set back to take it in. This amounts to
nothing ; for most women find it proper to take a pair
of garters home and fit them to the size of the limbs
they are to encircle, rather than to try them in the
store where they purchase.' Here it is difficult to
suppose the reasoner in earnest. Had M. Beauvais,
in his search for the body of Marie, discovered a
corpse corresponding in general size and appearance
to the missing girl, he would have been warranted
(without reference to the question of habiliment at
all) in forming an opinion that his search had been
successful. If, in addition to the point of general
size and contour, he had found upon the arm a pe-
culiar hairy appearance which he had observed upon
the living Marie, his opinion might have been justly
strengthened ; and the increase of positiveness might
well have been in the ratio of the peculiarity, or un-
usualness, of the hairy mark. If, the feet of Marie
being small, those of the corpse were also small, the
increase of probability that the body was that of
Marie would not be an increase in a ratio merely
arithmetical, but in one highly geometrical, or accu-
mulative. Add to all this shoes such as she had been

286 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

known to wear upon the day of her disappearance,
and, although these shoes may be 'sold in packages/
you so far augment the probability as to verge upon
the certain. What, of itself, would be no evidence of
identity, becomes through its corroborative position,
proof most sure. Give us, then, flowers in the hat
corresponding to those worn by the missing girl, and
we seek for nothing further. If only one flower, we
seek for nothing further — what then if two or three,
or more? Each successive one is multiple evidence
— proof not added to proof, but multiplied by hun-
dreds or thousands. Let us now discover, upon the
deceased, garters such as the living used, and it is
almost folly to proceed. But these garters are found
to be tightened, by the setting back of a clasp, in just
such a manner as her own had been tightened by
Marie shortly previous to her leaving home. It is
now madness or hypocrisy to doubt. What 'L'Etoile'
says in respect to this abbreviation of the garters be-
ing an unusual occurrence, shows nothing beyond its
own pertinacity in error. The elastic nature of the
clasp-garter is self-demonstration of the unusualness
of the abbreviation. What is made to adjust itself,
must of necessity require foreign adjustment but
rarely. It must have been by an accident, in its
strictest sense, that these garters of Marie needed the
tightening described. They alone would have amply
established her identity. But it is not that the corpse
was found to have the garters of the missing girl,

The Mystery of Marie Roget 287

or found to have her shoes, or her bonnet, or the
flowers of her bonnet, or her feet, or a peculiar mark
upon the arm, or her general size and appearance —
it is that the corpse had each, and all collectively.
Could it be proved that the editor of 'L'Etoile' really
entertained a doubt, under the circumstances, there
would be no need, in his case, of a commission de
lunatic o inquirendo. He has thought it sagacious
to echo the small talk of the lawyers, who, for the
most part, content themselves with echoing the rec-
tangular precepts of the courts. I would here ob-
serve that very much of what is-rejected as evidence
by a court, is the best of evidence to the intellect, j
For the court, guided itself by the general principles
of evidence — the recognized and booked principles —
is averse from swerving at particular instances. And
this steadfast adherence to principle, with rigorous
disregard of the conflicting exception, is a sure mode
of attaining the maximum of attainable truth, in any
long sequence of time. The practice, in mass, is
therefore philosophical ; but it is not the less certain
that it engenders vast individual error.*

* "A theory based on the qualities of an object, will prevent
its being unfolded according to its objects; and he who ar-
ranges topics in reference to their causes, will cease to value
them according to their results. Thus the jurisprudence of
every nation will show that, when law becomes a science and
a system, it ceases to be justice. The errors into which a
blind devotion to principles of classification has led the com-
mon law will be seen by observing how often the legislature
has been obliged to come forward to restore the equity its
scheme had lost."— Landor.

288 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"In respect to the insinuations levelled at Beau-
vais, you will be willing to dismiss them in a breath.
You have already fathomed the true character of
this good gentleman. He is a busybody, with much
of romance and little of wit. Any one so constituted
will readily so conduct himself, upon occasion of
real excitement, as to render himself liable to suspi-
cion on the part of the over-acute, or the ill-disposed.
M. Beauvais (as it appears from your notes) had
some personal interviews with the editor of 'L'Etoile'
and offended him by venturing an opinion that the
corpse, notwithstanding the theory of the editor,
was, in sober fact, that of Marie. 'He persists/ says
the paper, 'in asserting the corpse to be that of
Marie, but can not give a circumstance, in addition
to those which we have commented upon, to make
others believe.' Now, without re-adverting to the
fact that stronger evidence 'to make others believe/
could never have been adduced, it may be remarked
that a man may very well be understood to believe,
in a case of this kind, without the ability to advance
a single reason for the belief of a second party.
Nothing is more vague than impressions of individ-
ual identity. Each man recognizes his neighbor, yet
there are few instances in which any one is prepared
to give a reason for his recognition. The editor
of 'L'Etoile' had no right to be offended at M. Beau-
vais's unreasoning belief.

"The suspicious circumstances which invest him,

The Mystery of Marie Roget 289

will be found to tally much better with my hypothe-
sis of romantic busybodyism, than with the reason-
er's suggestion of guilt. Once adopting the more
charitable interpretation, we shall find no difficulty
in comprehending the rose in the key-hole; the
'Marie' upon the slate; the 'elbowing the male rela-
tives out of the way'; the 'aversion to permitting
them to see the body' ; the caution given to Madame

B , that she must hold no conversation with the

gendarme until his (Beauvais') return; and, lastly,
his apparent determination 'that nobody should have
anything to do with the proceedings except himself.'
It seems to me unquestionable that Beauvais was a
suitor of Marie's ; that she coquetted with him ; and
that he was ambitious of being thought to enjoy her
fullest intimacy and confidence. I shall say nothing
more upon this point ; and, as the evidence fully re-
buts the assertion of 'L'Etoile,' touching the matter
of apathy on the part of the mother and other rela-
tives— an apathy inconsistent with the supposition
of their believing the corpse to be that of the per-
fumery girl — we shall now proceed as if the question
of identity were settled to our perfect satisfaction."

"And what," I here demanded, "do you think of
the opinions of 'Le Commerciel?' "

"That, in spirit, they are far more worthy of at-
tention than any which have been promulgated upon
the subject. The deductions from the premises are
philosophical and acute; but the premises, in two in-

290 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

stances, at least, are founded in imperfect observa-
tion. 'Le Commerciel' wishes to intimate that Marie
was seized by some gang of low ruffians not far from
her mother's door. 'It is impossible/ it urges, 'that
a person so well known to thousands as this young
woman was, should have passed three blocks without
some one having seen her/ This is the idea of a
man long resident in Paris — a public man — and one
whose walks to and fro in the city have been mostly
limited to the vicinity of the public offices. He is
aware that he seldom passes so far as a dozen blocks
from his own bureau, without being recognized and
accosted. And, knowing the extent of his personal
acquaintance with others, and of others with him, he
compares his notoriety with that of the perfumery-
girl, finds no great difference between them, and
reaches at once the conclusion that she, in her walks,
would be equally liable to recognition with himself
in his. This could only be the case were her walks
of the same unvarying, methodical character, and
within the same species of limited region as are his
own. He passes to and fro, at regular intervals,
within a confined periphery, abounding in individ-
uals who are led to observation of his person through
interest in the kindred nature of his occupation with
their own. But the walks of Marie may, in general,
be supposed discursive. In this particular instance,
it will be understood as most probable, that she pro-
ceeded upon a route of more than average diversity

The Mystery of Marie Roget 291

from her accustomed ones. The parallel which we
imagine to have existed in the mind of 'Le Commer-
ciel' would only be sustained in the event of the two
individuals traversing the whole city. In this case,
granting the personal acquaintance to be equal, the
chances would be also equal that an equal number of
personal rencountres would be made. For my own
part, I should hold it not only as possible, but as far
more than probable, that Marie might have pro-

f; ceeded, at any given period, by any one of the many
i routes between her own residence and that of her
aunt, without meeting a single individual whom she
knew, or. by whom she was known. In viewing this
question in its full and proper light, we must hold
^steadily in mind the great disproportion between the
personal acquaintances of even the most noted indi-
vidual in Paris, and the entire population of Paris
itself.

"But whatever force there may still appear to be
in the suggestion of 'Le Commerciel/ will be much
diminished when we take into consideration the hour
at which the girl went abroad. 'It was when the
streets were full of people/ says 'Le Commerciel/
'that she went out/ But not so. It was at nine
o'clock in the morning. Now at nine o'clock of
every morning in the week, with the exception of
Sunday, the streets of the city are, it is true, thronged
with people. At nine on Sunday, the populace are '
chiefly within doors preparing for church. No ob- ;

292 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

serving person can have failed to notice the pe-
culiarly deserted air of the town, from about eight
until ten on the morning of every Sabbath. Between
ten and eleven the streets are thronged, but not at so
early a period as that designated.

"There is another point at which there seems a de-
ficiency of observation on the part of 'Le Commer-
ciel/ 'A piece/ it says, 'of one of the unfortunate
girl's petticoats, two feet long, and one foot wide,
was torn out and tied under her chin, and around the
back of her head, probably to prevent screams. This
was done by fellows who had no pocket-handker-
chiefs/ Whether this idea is or is not well founded,
we will endeavor to see hereafter; but by 'fellows
who have no pocket-handkerchiefs/ the editor in-
tends the lowest class of ruffians. These, however,
are the very description of people who will always be
found to have handkerchiefs even when destitute
of shirts. You must have had occasion to observe
how absolutely indispensable, of late years, to the
thorough blackguard, has become the pocket-hand-
kerchief."

"And what are we to think," I asked, "of the arti-
cle in 'Le Soleil ?'"

"That it is a vast pity its inditer was not born a
parrot — in which case he would have been the most
illustrious parrot of his race. He has merely re-
peated the individual items of the already published
opinion; collecting them, with a laudable industry,

'

The Mystery of Marie Roget 293

from this paper and from that. The things had all
evidently been there,' he says, 'at least three or four
weeks, and there can be no doubt that the spot of
this appalling outrage has been discovered/ The
facts here re-stated by 'Le Soleil' are very far in-
deed from removing my own doubts upon this sub-
ject, and w~ will examine them more particularly
hereafter in connection with another division of the
theme.

•' ~At present we must occupy ourselves with other
investigations. You can not have failed to remark
the extreme laxity of the examination of the corpse.
To be sure, the^ question of identity was readily de-
termined, or sKould have been ; but there were other
points to be ascertained. Had the body been in any
respect despoiled? Had the deceased any articles of
jewelry about her person upon leaving home? If so,
had she "any when fcyartd? Jfhese are important
questiorrs"Tttteriy untouched by the evidence; and
there are others of equal moment, which have met
with no attention. We must endeavor to satisfy
ourselves by personal inquiry. The case of St. Eu-
stache must be re-examined. I have no suspicion of
this person; but let us proceed methodically. We
will ascertain beyond a doubt the validity of the
affidavits in regard to his whereabout on the Sun-
day. Affidavits of this character are readily made
matter of mystification. Should there be nothing
wrong here, however, we will dismiss St. Eustache

294 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

f

from our investigations. His suicide, however cor-
roborative of suspicion, were there found to be de-
ceit in the affidavits, is, without such deceit, in no
respect an unaccountable circumstance, or one which
need cause us to deflect from the line of ordinary
analysis.

"In that which I now propose, we will Hiscard the
interior points of this tragedy, and concentrate our
attention upon its outskirts. Not the least usual
error in investigations such as this is the limiting of
inquiry to the immediate, with total disregard of the
collateral or circumstantial events. It is the mal-
practice of the courts to confine evidence and discus-
sion to the bounds of apparent rele- ancy. Yet ex-
perience has shown, and a true philosophy will al-
ways show, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of

^truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. It is
through the spirit of this principle, if not precisely
through its letter, that modern science^225 -rfisoived
to calculate upon the unforeseen.^ But perhaps you

;do not comprehend me. The history of human
knowledge has so uninterruptedly shown that to col-
lateral, or incidental, or accidental events we are in-
debted for the most numerous and most valuable dis-
coveries, that it has at length become necessary, in
prospective view of improvement, to make not only
large, but the largest, allowances for inventions that
shall arise by chance, and quite out of the range of
ordinary expectation. It is no longer philosophical

The Mystery of Marie Roget 295

to base upon what has been a vision of what is to be.
Accident is admitted as a portion of the substructure.
We make chance a matter of absolute calculation.
We subject the unlocked for and unimagined to the
mathematical formulae of the schools.

"I repeat that it is no more than fact that the
larger portion of all truth has sprung from the col-
lateral; and it is but in accordance with the spirit
of the principle involved in this fact that I would
divert inquiry, in the present case, from the trodden
and hitherto unfruitful ground of the event itself to
the contemporary circumstances which surround it.
While you ascertain the validity of the affidavits, I
will examine the newspapers more generally than
you have as yet done. So far, we have only recon-
noitred the field of investigation; but it will be
strange, indeed, if a comprehensive survey, such as
I propose, of the public prints will not afford us some
minute points which shall establish a direction for in-
quiry."

In pursuance of Dupin's suggestion, I made scru-
pulous examination of the affair of the affidavits.
The result was a firm conviction of their validity,
and of the consequent innocence of St. Eustache. In
the meantime my friend occupied himself, with what
seemed to me a minuteness altogether objectless, in
a scrutiny of the various newspaper files. At the end
of a week he placed before me the following ex-
tracts :

296 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"About three years and a half ago, a disturbance
very similar to the present was caused by the disap-
pearance of this same Marie Roget from the par-
fumerie of Monsieur Le Blanc, in the Palais Royal.
At the end of a week, however, she re-appeared at
her customary comptoir, as well as ever, with the ex-
ception of a slight paleness not altogether usual. It
was given out by Monsieur Le Blanc and her mother
that she had merely been on a visit to some friend in
the country; and the affair was speedily hushed up.
We presume that the present absence is a freak of the
same nature, and that, at the expiration of a week or,
perhaps, of a month, we shall have her among us
again." — Evening Paper, Monday, June 23.*

"An evening journal of yesterday refers to a for-
mer mysterious disappearance of Mademoiselle Ro-
get. It is well known that, during the week of her
absence from Le Blanc's parfumerie, she was in the
company of a young naval officer much noted for his
debaucheries. A quarrel, it is supposed, providen-
tially, led to her return home. We have the name of
the Lothario in question, who is at present stationed
in Paris, but for obvious reasons forbear to make it
public." — "Le Mercuric," Tuesday Morning, June
24. t

"An outrage of the most atrocious character was
perpetrated near this city the day before yesterday.
A gentleman, with his wife and daughter, engaged,
* N«w York "Express." t New York "Herald."

The Mystery of Marie Roget 297

about dusk, the services of six young men, who were
idly rowing a boat to and fro near the banks of the
Seine, to convey him across the river. Upon reach-
ing the opposite shore the three passengers stepped
out, and had proceeded so far as to be beyond the
view of the boat, when the daughter discovered that
she had left in it her parasol. She returned for it,
was seized by the gang, carried out into the stream,
gagged, brutally treated, and finally taken to the
shore at a point not far from that at which she had
originally entered the boat with her parents. The
villains have escaped for the time, but the police are
upon their trail, and some of them will soon be
Q taken." — Morning Paper, June 25.*

"We have received one or two communications,
the object of which is to fasten the crime of the late
* . atrocity upon Mennaisf; but as this gentleman has
been fully exonerated by a legal inquiry, and as the
arguments of our several correspondents appear to be
more zealous than profound, we do not think it ad-
visable to make them public."— Morning Paper,
June 284

"We have received several forcibly written com-
munications, apparently from various sources, and
which go far to render it a matter of certainty that
the unfortunate Marie Roget has become a victim of

* New York "Courier and Inquirer."

f Mennais was one of the parties originally suspected and
arrested, but discharged through total lack of evidence.
\ New York "Courier and Inquirer."

298 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

one of the numerous bands of blackguards which in-
fest the vicinity of the city upon Sunday. Our own
opinion is decidedly in favor of this supposition. We
shall endeavor to make room for some of these
X arguments hereafter." — Evening Paper, Tuesday,
\June3i.*

"On Monday, one of the bargemen connected with
the revenue service saw an empty boat floating down
the Seine. Sails were lying in the bottom of the
boat. The bargeman towed it under the barge office.
The next morning it was taken from thence without
the knowledge of any of the officers. The rudder is
now at the barge office." — 'Le Diligence/ Thursday,
June 26. f

Upon reading the^e various extracts, they not only
seemed to me irrelevant, but I could perceive no
mode in which any one of them could be brought
to bear upon the matter in hand. I waited for some
explanation from Dupin.

"It is not my present design," he said, "to dwell
upon the first and second of these extracts. I have
copied them chiefly to show you the extreme remiss-
ness of the police, who, as far as I can understand
from the Prefect, have not troubled themselves, in
any respect, with an examination of the naval officer
alluded to. Yet it is mere folly to say that between
the first and second disappearance of Marie there is
no supposable connection. Let us admit the first

* New York "Evening Post." f New York "Standard."

The Mystery of Marie Roget 299

elopement to have resulted in a quarrel between the
lovers, and the return home of the betrayed. We are
now prepared to view a second elopement (if we
know that an elopement has again taken place) as
indicating a renewal of the betrayer's advances,
rather than as the result of new proposals by a sec-
ond individual — we are prepared to regard it as a
'making up' of the old amour, rather than as the
commencement of a new one. The chances are ten
to one that he who had once eloped with Marie
would again propose an elopement, rather than that
she to whom proposals of an elopement had been
made by one individual should have them made to
her by another. And here let me call your attention
to the fact, that the time elapsing between the first
ascertained and the second supposed elopement is a
few months more than the general period of the
cruises of our men-of-war. Had the lover been in-
terrupted in his first villany by the necessity of de-
parture to sea, and had he seized the first moment of
his return to renew the base designs not yet alto-
gether accomplished — or not yet altogether accom-
plished by him? Of all these things we know noth-
ing.

"You will say, however, that, in the second in-
stance, there was no elopement as imagined. Cer-
tainly not— but are we prepared to say that there was
not the frustrated design? Beyond St. Eustache,
and perhaps Beauvais, we find no recognized, no

300 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

open, no honorable suitors of Marie. Of none other
is there anything said. Who, then, is the secret
lover, of whom the relatives (at least most of them)
know nothing, but whom Marie meets upon the
morning of Sunday, and who is so deeply in her
confidence that she hesitates not to remain with him
until the shades of the evening descend, amid the
solitary groves of the Barriere du Roule? Who is
that secret lover, I ask, of whom, at least, most of
the relatives know nothing? And what means the
singular prophecy of Madame Roget on the morning
of Marie's departure ? — 'I fear that I shall never see
Marie again/

"But if we can not imagine Madame Roget privy
to the design of elopement, may we not at least sup
pose this design entertained by the girl ? Upon quit
ting home, she gave it to be understood that she was
about to visit her aunt in the Rue des Dromes, and
St. Eustache was requested to call for her at dark
Now, at first glance, this fact strongly militates
against my suggestion — but let us reflect. That she
did meet some companion, and proceed with him
across the river, reaching the Barriere du Roule at so
late an hour as three o'clock in the afternoon, is
known. But in consenting so to accompany this in-
dividual (for whatever purpose — to her mother
known or unknown) , she must have thought of her
expressed intention when leaving home, and of the
surprise and suspicion aroused in the bosom of her

The Mystery of Marie Roget 301

affianced suitor, St. Eustache, when, calling for her,
at the hour appointed, in the Rue des Dromes, he
should find that she had not been there, and when,
moreover, upon returning to the pension with this
alarming intelligence, he should become aware of her
continued absence from home. She must have
thought of these things, I say. She must have fore-
seen the chagrin of St. Eustache, the suspicion of all.
She could not have thought of returning to brave
this suspicion; but the suspicion becomes a point of
trivial importance to her, if we suppose her not in-
tending to return.

"We may imagine her thinking thus — 'I am to
meet a certain person for the purpose of elopement,
or for certain other purposes known only to myself.
It is necessary that there be no chance of interruption
— there must be sufficient time given us to elude pur-
suit— I will give it to be understood that I shall visit
and spend the day with my aunt at the Rue des
Dromes — I will tell St. Eustache not to call for me
until dark — in this way, my absence from home for
the longest possible period, without causing sus-
picion or anxiety, will be accounted for, and I shall
gain more time than in any other manner. If I bid
St. Eustadie call for me at dark, he will be sure not
to call before; but if I wholly neglect to bid him call,
my time for escape will be diminished, since it will be
expected that I return the earlier, and my absence
will the sooner excite anxiety. Now, if it were my

302 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

design to return at all — if I had in contemplation
merely a stroll with the individual in question — it
would not be my policy to bid St. Eustache call ; for
calling, he will be sure to ascertain that I have played
him false — a fact of which I might keep him forever
in ignorance, by leaving home without notifying him
of my intention, by returning before dark, and by
then stating that I had been to visit my aunt in the
Rue des Dromes. But, as it is my design never to
return — or not for some weeks — or not until certain
concealments are effected — the gaining of time is
the only point about which I need give myself any
concern.

"You have observed, in your notes, that the most
general opinion in relation to this sad affair is, and
was from the first, that the girl had been the victim
of a gang of blackguards. Now, the popular opin-
ion, under certain conditions, is not to be disregarded.
When arising of itself — when manifesting itself in a
strictly spontaneous manner — we should look upon
it as analogous with that intuition which is the idio-
syncrasy of the individual man of genius. In ninety-
nine cases from the hundred I would abide by its de-
cision. But it is important that we find no palpable
traces of suggestion. The opinion must be rigor-
ously the public's own; and the distinction is often
exceedingly difficult to perceive and to maintain. In
the present instance, it appears to me that this 'public
opinion/ in respect to a gang, has been superinduced

The Mystery of Marie Roget 303

by the collateral ^ventjwhich is detailedjn the third
of my_extractsT All Paris is excited by the discov-
efecTcorpse of Marie, a girl young, beautiful, and
notorious. This corpse is found, bearing marks of
violence, and floating in the river. But it is now
made known that, at the very period, or about the
very period, in which it is supposed that the girl was
assassinated, an outrage similar in nature to that en-
dured by the deceased, although less in extent, was
perpetrated by a gang of young ruffians, upon the
person of a second young female. Is it wonderful
that the one known atrocity should influence the
popular judgment in regard to the other unknown?
This judgment awaited direction, and the known
outrage seemed so opportunely to afford it! Marie,
too, was found in the river; and upon this very river
was this known outrage committed. The connection
of the two events had about it so much erf the pal-
pable, that the true wonder would have been a fail-
ure of the populace to appreciate and to seize it.
But, in fact, -the one atrocity, known to be so com-
mitted, is, if anything, evidence that the other,
committed at a time nearly coincident, was not
so committed. It would have been a miracle if,
while a gang of ruffians were perpetrating, at a given
locality, a most unheard of wrong, there should have
been another similar gang, in a similar locality, in
the same city, under the same circumstances, with
the same means and appliances, engaged in a wrong

304 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of precisely the same aspect, at precisely the same
period of time ! Yet in what, if not in this marvel-
lous train of ^coincidence, does the accidentally sug-
gested opinion of the populace call upon us to be-
lieve?

"Before proceeding further, let us consider the
supposed scene of the assassination, in the thicket at
the Barriere du Roule. This thicket, although dense,
was in the close vicinity of a public road. Within
were three or four large stones, forming a kind of
seat with a back and a footstool. On the upper
stone was discovered a white petticoat; on the sec-
ond, a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, and a pocket-
handkerchief were also here found. The handker-
chief bore the name 'Marie Roget.' Fragments of
dress were seen on the branches around. The earth
was trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was
every evidence of a violent struggle.

"Notwithstanding the acclamation with which the
discovery of this thicket was received by the press,
and the unanimity with which it was supposed to in-
dicate the precise scene of the outrage, it must be
admitted that there was some very good reason for
doubt. That it was the scene, I may or I may not
believe — but there was excellent reason for doubt.
Had the true scene been, as 'Le Commercier sug-
gested, in the neighborhood of the Rue Pavee St.
Andree, the perpetrators of the crime, supposing
them still resident in Paris, would naturally have

The Mystery of Marie Roget 305

been stricken with terror at the public attention thus
acutely directed into the proper channel ; and, in cer-
tain classes of minds, there would have arisen, at
once, a sense of the necessity of some exertion to
redivert this attention. And thus, the thicket of the
Barriere du Roule having been already suspected, the
idea of placing the articles where they were found,
might have been naturally entertained. There is no
real evidence, although 'Le Soleil' so supposes, that
the articles discovered had been more than a very
few days in the thicket ; while there is much circum-
stantial proof that they could not have remained
there, without attracting attention, during the twenty
days elapsing between the fatal Sunday and the af-
ternoon upon which they were found by the boys.
'They were all mildewed down hard/ says 'Le
Soleil/ adopting the opinions of its predecessors,
'with the action of the rain and stuck together from
mildew. The grass had grown around and over
some of them. The silk of the parasol was strong,
but the threads of it were run together within. The
upper part, where it had been doubled and folded,
was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on being
opened/ In respect to the grass having 'grown
around and over some of them/ it is obvious that the
fact could only have been ascertained from the
words, and thus from the recollections, of two small
boys; for these boys removed the articles and took
them home before they had been seen by a third

[

306 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

party. But the grass will grow, especially in warm
and damp weather (such as was that of the period
of the murder), as much as two or three inches in a
single day. A parasol lying upon a newly turfed
ground, might, in a single week, be entirely con-
cealed from sight by the upspringing grass. And
j touching that mildew upon which the editor of *Le
\ Soleir so pertinaciously insists, that he employs the
\word no less than three times in the brief paragraph
• V / rust (luote(^ *s ^e rea^y unaware of the nature of this
! jmildew ? Is he to be told that it is one of the many
classes of fungus, of which the most ordinary feat-
ure is its upspringing and decadence within twenty-
four hours ?

"Thus we see, at a glance, that what has been
most triumphantly adduced in support of the idea
that the articles had been 'for at least three or four
weeks' in the thicket, is most absurdly null as regards
any evidence of that fact. On the other hand, it is ex-
ceedingly difficult to believe that these articles could
have remained in the thicket specified for a longer
period than a single week — for a longer period than
from one Sunday to the next. Those who know
anything of the vicinity of Paris know the extreme
difficulty of finding seclusion, unless at a great dis-
tance from its suburbs. Such a thing as an unex-
plored or even an unfrequently visited recess, amid
its woods or groves, is not for a moment to be im-
agined. Let any one who, being at heart a lover of

The Mystery of Marie Roget 307

nature, is yet chained by duty to the dust and heat of
this great metropolis — let any such one attempt,
even during the week-days, to slake his thirst for
solitude amid the scenes of natural loveliness which
immediately surround us. At every second step he
will find the growing charm dispelled by the voice
and personal intrusion of some ruffian or party of
carousing blackguards. He will seek privacy amid
the densest foliage, all in vain. Here are the very
nooks where the unwashed most abound — here are
the temples most desecrate. With sickness of the
heart the wanderer will flee back to the polluted
Paris as to a less odious because less incongruous
sink of pollution. But if the vicinity of the city is so
beset during the working days of the week, how
much more so on the Sabbath! It is now especially
that, released from the claims of labor, or deprived
of the customary opportunities of crime, the town
blackguard seeks the precincts of the town, not
through love of the rural, which in his heart he de-
spises, but by way of escape from the restraints and
conventionalities of society. He desires less the
fresh air and the green trees, than the utter license of
the country. Here, at the roadside inn, or beneath
the foliage of the woods, he indulges unchecked by
any eye except those of his boon companions, in all
the mad excess of a counterfeit hilarity — the joint
offspring of liberty and of rum. I say nothing more
than what must be obvious to every dispassionate

308 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

observer, when I repeat that the circumstance of the
articles in question having remained undiscovered for
a longer period than from one Sunday to another in
any thicket in the immediate neighborhood of Paris
is to be looked upon as little less than miraculous.

"But there are not wanting other grounds for the
suspicion that the articles were placed in the thicket
with the view of diverting attention from the real
scene of the outrage. And first, let me direct your
notice to the date of the discovery of the articles.
Collate this with the date of the fifth extract made
by myself from the newspapers. You will find that
the discovery followed, almost immediately, the ur-
gent communications sent .to the evening paper.
These communications, although various, and appar-
ently from various sources, tended all to the same
point — viz., the directing of attention to a gang as
the perpetrators of the outrage, and to the neighbor-
hood of the Barriere du Roule as its scene. Now,
here, of course, the situation is not that, in conse-
quence of these communications, or of the public at-
tention by them directed, the articles were found by
the boys ; but the suspicion might and may well have
been that the articles were not before found by the
boys, for the reason that the articles had not before
been in the thicket ; having been deposited there only
at so late a period as at the date, or shortly prior to
the date of the communication, by the guilty authors
of these communications themselves.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 309

"This thicket was a singular — an exceedingly
singular one. It was unusually dense. Within its
naturally walled inclosure were three extraordinary
stones, forming a seat with a back and a footstool.
And this thicket, so full of art, was in the immediate
vicinity, within a few rods, of the dwelling of Ma-
dame Deluc, whose boys were in the habit of closely
examining the shrubberies about them in search of
the bark of the sassafras. Would it be a rash wager < ^
— a wager of one thousand to one — that a day never
passed over the heads of these boys without finding

at least one of them ensconced in the umbrageous
hall, and enthroned upon its natural throne? Those
who would hesitate at such a wager have either
never been boys themselves or have forgotten the
boyish nature. I repeat — it is exceedingly hard to
comprehend how the articles could have remained in
this thicket undiscovered for a longer period than
one or two days ; and that thus there is good ground
for suspicion, in spite of the dogmatic ignorance of
'Le Soleil,' that they were, at a comparatively late
date, deposited where found.

"But there are still other and stronger reasons for
believing them so deposited, than any which I have
as yet urged. And, now, let me beg your notice to
the highly artificial arrangement of the articles. On
the upper stone lay a white petticoat ; on the second,
a silk scarf ; scattered around, were a parasol, gloves,
and a pocket-handkerchief bearing the name 'Marie

310 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Roget.' Here is just such an arrangement as would
naturally be made by a not over-acute person wish-
ing to dispose the articles naturally. But it is by no
means a really natural arrangement. I should rather
have looked to see the things all lying on the ground
and trampled under foot. In the narrow limits of
that bower, it would have been scarcely possible that
the petticoat and scarf should have retained a posi-
tion upon the stones, when subjected to the brushing
to and fro of many struggling persons. 'There was
evidence/ it is said, 'of a struggle; and the earth
was trampled, the bushes were broken' — but the pet-
ticoat and the scarf are found deposited as if upon
'shelves. The pieces of the frock torn out by the
I bushes were about three inches wide and six inches
/ long. One part was the hem of the frock and it had
I been mended. They looked like strips torn off.'
Here, inadvertently, 'Le Soleil' has employed an ex-
ceedingly suspicious~phrasi> The pieces, as de-
/ scribed, do indeed 'look like strips torn off'; but
' purposely and by hand. It is one of the rarest of ac-
cidents that a piece is 'torn off/ from any garment
such as is now in question, by the agency of a thorn.
From the very nature of such fabrics, a thorn or nail
becoming tangled in them, tears them rectangularly
—divides them into two longitudinal rents, at right
angles with each other, and meeting at an apex
where the thorn enters — but it is scarcely possible to
conceive the piece 'torn off/ I never so knew it, nor

The Mystery of Marie Roget 311

did you. To tear a piece off from such fabric, two
distinct forces, in different directions, will be, in al-
most every case, required. If there be two edges to
the fabric — if, for example, it be a pocket-handker-
chief, and it is desired to tear from it a slip, then,
and then only, will the one force serve the purpose.
But in the present case the question is of a dress,
presenting but one edge. To tear a piece from the
interior, where no edge is presented, could only be
effected by a miracle through the agency of thorns,
and no one thorn could accomplish it. But, even
where an edge is presented, two thorns will be neces-
sary, operating, the one in two distinct directions,
and the other in one. And this in the supposition
that the edge is unhemmed. If hemmed, the matter
is nearly out of the question. We thus see the nu-
merous and great obstacles in the way of pieces be-
ing 'torn off' through the simple agency of 'thorns' ;
yet we are required to believe not only that one piece
but that many have been so torn. 'And one part/
too, fwas the hem of the frock!' Another piece was
'part of the skirt, not the hem' — that is to say, was
torn completely out, through the agency of thorns,
from the unedged interior of the dress! These, I
say, are things which one may well be pardoned for
disbelieving; yet, taken collectedly, they form, per-
haps, less of reasonable ground for suspicion than
the one startling circumstance of the articles having
been left in this thicket at all, by any murderers who

312 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

had enough precaution to think of removing the
corpse. You will not have apprehended me rightly,
however, if you suppose it my design to deny this
thicket as the scene of the outrage. There might
have been a wrong here, or more possibly an acci-
dent at Madame Deluc's. But, in fact, this is a
point of minor importance. We are not engaged in
an attempt to discover the scene, but to produce the
perpetrators of the murder. What I have adduced,
notwithstanding the minuteness with which I have
adduced it, has been with the view, first, to show
the folly of the positive and headlong assertions of
'Le Soleil,' but secondly, and chiefly, to bring you,
by the most natural route, to a further contempla-
tion of the doubt whether this assassination has, or
has not, been the work of a gang.

"We will resume this question by mere allusion to
the revolting details of the surgeon examined at the
inquest. It is only necessary to say that his pub-
lished inferences, in regard to the number of the
ruffians, have been properly ridiculed as unjust and
totally baseless, by all the reputable anatomists of
Paris. Not that the matter might not have been as
inferred, but that there was no ground for the in-
ference— was there not much for another?

"Let us reflect now upon 'the traces of a strug-
gle'; and let me ask what these traces have been
supposed to demonstrate. A gang. But do they
not rather demonstrate the absence of a gang?

The Mystery of Marie Roget 313

What struggle could have taken place — what strug-
gle so violent and so enduring as to have left its
'traces' in all directions — between a weak and de-
fenceless girl and a gang of ruffians imagined? The
silent grasp of a few rough arms and all would have
been over. The victim must have been absolutely
passive at their will. You will here bear in mind
that the arguments urged against the thicket as the
scene, are applicable, in chief part, only against it as
the scene of an outrage committed by more than a
single individual. If we imagine but one violator,
we can conceive, and thus only conceive, the struggle
of so violent and so obstinate a nature as to have left
the 'traces' apparent.

"And again. I have already mentioned the sus-.
picion to be excited by the fact that the articles in
question were suffered to remain at all in the thicket
where discovered. It seems almost impossible that
these evidences of guilt should have been acciden-
tally left where found. There was sufficient pres-
ence of mind (it is supposed) to remove the corpse;
and yet a more positive evidence than the corpse
itself (whose features might have been quickly ob-
literated by decay) is allowed to lie conspicuously
in the scene of the outrage — I allude to the handker-
chief with the name of the deceased. If this was
accident, it was not the accident of a gang. We
can imagine it only the accident of an individual.
Let us see. An individual has committed the mur-

314 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

der. He is alone with the ghost of the departed.
He is appalled by what lies motionless before him.
The fury of his passion is over, and there is abun-
dant room in his heart for the natural awe of the
deed. His is none of that confidence which the
presence of numbers inevitably inspires. He is alone
with the dead. He trembles and is bewildered. Yet
there is a necessity for disposing of the corpse. He
bears it to the river, and leaves behind him the other
evidences of his guilt ; for it is difficult, if not impos-
sible to carry all the burden at once, and it will be
easy to return for what is left. But in his toilsome
journey to the water his fears redouble within him.
The sounds of life encompass his path. A dozen
times he hears or fancies he hears the step of an
observer. Even the very lights from the city be-
wilder him. Yet, in time, and by long and frequent
pauses of deep agony, he reaches the river's brink,
and disposes of his ghastly charge — perhaps through
the medium of a boat. But now what treasure does
the world hold — what threat of vengeance could it
hold out — which would have power to urge the re-
turn of that lonely murderer over that toilsome and
perilous path, to the thicket and its blood-chilling
recollections? He returns not, let the consequences
be what they may. He could not return if he would.
His sole thought is immediate escape. He turns his
back forever upon those dreadful shrubberies, and
flees as from the wrath to come.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 315

"But how with a gang? Their number would
have inspired them with confidence; if, indeed, con-
fidence is ever wanting in the breast of the arrant
blackguard ; and of arrant blackguards alone are the
supposed gangs ever constituted. Their number, I
say, would have prevented the bewildering and un-
reasoning terror which I have imagined to paralyze
the single man. Could we suppose an oversight in
one, or two, or three, this oversight would have been
remedied by a fourth. They would have left noth-
ing behind them ; for their number would have en-
abled them to carry all at once. There would have
been no need of return.

"Consider now the circumstance that, in the outer
garment of the corpse when found, 'a slip, about a
foot wide, had been torn upward from the bottom
hem to the waist, wound three times round the waist,
and secured by a sort of hitch in the back/ This was
done with the obvious design of affording a handle
by which to carry the body. But would any number
of men have dreamed of resorting to such an expe-
dient? To three or four, the limbs of the corpse
would have afforded not only a sufficient, but the best
possible, hold. The device is that of a single indi-
vidual ; and this brings us to the fact that 'between
the thicket and the river the rails of the fences were
found taken down, and the ground bore evident
traces of some heavy burden having been dragged
along it!' But would a number of men have put

316 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

themselves to the superfluous trouble of taking down
a fence, for the purpose of dragging through it a
corpse which they might have lifted over any fence
in an instant? Would a number of men have so
dragged a corpse at all as to have left evident traces
of the dragging ?

"And here we must refer to an observation of *Le
Commerciel;' upon which I have already, in some
measure, commented. 'A piece/ says this journal,
of one of the unfortunate girl's petticoats was torn
out and tied under her chin, and around the back of
her head, probably to prevent screams. This was
done by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs/

"I have before suggested that a genuine black-
guard is never without a pocket-handkerchief. But
it is not to this fact that I now especially advert.
That it was not through want of a handkerchief for
the purpose imagined by 'Le Commerciel/ that this
bandage was employed, is rendered apparent by the
handkerchief left in the thicket; and that the object
was not 'to prevent screams' appears, also, from the
bandage having been employed in preference to what
would so much better have answered the purpose.
But the language of the evidence speaks of the strip
in question as 'found around the neck, fitting loosely,
and secured with a hard knot.' These words are
sufficiently vague, but differ materially from those
of 'Le Commerciel/ I'he slip was eighteen inches
wide, and therefore, although of muslin, would form

The Mystery of Marie Roget 317

a strong band when folded or rumpled longitudi-
nally. And thus rumpled it was discovered. My
inference is this. The solitary murderer, having
borne the corpse for some distance (whether from
the thicket or elsewhere) by means of the bandage
hitched around its middle, found the weight, in this
mode of procedure, too much for his strength. He
resolved to drag the burden — the evidence goes to
show that it was dragged. With this object in view,
it became necessary to attach something like a rope
to one of the extremities. It could be best attached
about the neck, where the head would prevent its
slipping off. And now the murderer bethought him,
unquestionably, of the bandage about the loins. He
would have used this, but for its volution about the
corpse, the hitch which embarrassed it, and the re-
flection that it had not been 'torn off' from the gar-
ment. It was easier to tear a new slip from the petti-
coat. He tore it, made it fast about the neck, and so
dragged his victim to the brink of the river. That
this 'bandage/ only attainable with trouble and de-
lay, and but imperfectly answering its purpose — that
this bandage was employed at all, demonstrates that
the necessity for its employment sprang from cir-
cumstances arising at a period when the handker-
chief was no longer attainable — that is to say, aris-
ing, as we have imagined, after quitting the thicket
(if the thicket it was), and on the road between the
thicket and the river.

318 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"But the evidence, you will say, of Madame Deluc
( !) points especially to the presence of a gang in the
vicinity of the thicket, at or about the epoch of the
murder. This I grant. I doubt if there were not a
dozen gangs, such as described by Madame Deluc, in
and about the vicinity of the Barriere du Roule at or
about the period of this tragedy. But the gang
which has drawn upon itself the pointed animadver-
sion, although the somewhat tardy and very suspi-
cious evidence, of Madame Deluc, is the only gang
which is represented by that honest and scrupulous
old lady as having eaten her cakes and swallowed her
brandy, without putting themselves to the trouble of
making her payment. Et hinc illoe iroef

"But what is the precise evidence of Madame
Deluc? 'A gang of miscreants made their appear-
ance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank without
making payment, followed in the route of the young
man and the girl, returned to the inn about dusk,
and re-crossed the river as if in great haste/

"Now this 'great haste' very possibly seemed
greater haste in the eyes of Madame Deluc, since
she dwelt lingeringly and lamentingly upon her vio-*
lated cakes and ale — cakes and ale for which she
might still have entertained a faint hope of com-
pensation. Why, otherwise, since it was about dusk,
should she make a point of the haste? It is no cause
for wonder, surely, that even a gang of blackguards
should make haste to get home when a wide river is

The Mystery of Marie Roget 319

to be crossed in small boats, when storm impends,
and when night approaches.

"I say approaches; for the night had not yet ar-
rived. It was only about dusk that the indecent haste
of these 'miscreants' offended the sober eyes of
Madame Deluc. But we are told that it was upon
this very evening that Madame Deluc, as well as her
eldest son, 'heard the screams of a female in the vi-
cinity of the inn/ And in what words does Madame
Deluc designate the period of the evening at which
these screams were heard ? 'It was soon after dark,'
she says. But 'soon after dark' is, at least, dark; and
'about dusk' is as certainly daylight. Thus it is
abundantly clear that the gang quitted the Barriere
du Roule prior to the screams overheard (?) by
Madame Deluc. And although, in all the many re-
ports of the evidence, the relative expressions in
question are distinctly and invariably employed just
as I have employed them in this conversation with
yourself, no notice whatever of the gross discrepancy
has, as yet, been taken by any of the public journals,
or by any of the myrmidons of police.

"I shall add but one to the arguments against a
gang; but this one has, to my own understanding at
least, a weight altogether irresistible. Under the cir-
cumstances of large reward offered, and full pardon
to any king's evidence, it is not to be imagined, for
a moment, that some member of a gang of low ruf-
fians, or of any body of men would not long ago have

320 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

betrayed his accomplices. Each one of a gang, so
placed, is not so much greedy of reward, or anxious
for escape, as fearful of betrayal. He betrays
eagerly and early that he may not himself be be-
trayed. That the secret has not been divulged is the
very best of proof that it is, in fact, a secret. The
horrors of this dark deed are known only to one, or
two, living human beings, and to God.

"Let us sum up now the meagre yet certain fruits
of our long analysis. We have attained the idea
either of a fatal accident under the roof of Madame
Deluc, or of a murder perpetrated, in the thicket at
the Barriere du Roule, by a lover, or at least by an
intimate and secret ^ssodatej^the_dec_eased. This
associat?Ts~o? swarthy complexion. This complex-
ion, the 'hitch' in the bandage, and the 'sailor's knot'
with which the bonnet-ribbon is tied, point to a sea-
man. His companionship with the deceased — a gay
but not an abject young girl — designates him as
above the grade of the common sailor. Here the
well-written and urgent communications to the
journals are much in the way of corroboration. The
circumstance of the first elopement, as mentioned by
*Le Mercuric/ tends to blend the idea of this sea-
man with that of the 'naval officer' who is first
known to have led the unfortunate into crime.

"And here, most fitly, comes the consideration of
the continued absence of him of the dark complexion.
Let me pause to observe that the complexion of this

The Mystery of Marie Roget 321

man is dark and swarthy; it was no common
swarthiness which constituted the sole point of re-
membrance, both as regards Valence and Madame
Deluc. But why is this man absent ? Was he mur-
dered by the gang ? If so, why are there only traces
of the assassinated girl? The scene of the two out-
rages will naturally be supposed identical. And
where is his corpse? The assassins would most
probably have disposed of both in the same way. But
it may be said that this man lives, and is deterred
from making himself known, through dread of being
charged with the murder. This consideration might
be supposed to operate upon him now — at this late
period — since it has been given in evidence that he
was seen with Marie, but it would have had no force
at the period of the deed. The first impulse of an
innocent man would have been to announce the out-
rage, and to aid in identifying the ruffians. This
policy would have suggested. He had been seen
with the girl. He had crossed the river with her in
an open ferryboat. The denouncing of the assassins
would have appeared, even to an idiot, the surest and
sole means of relieving himself from suspicion. We
can not suppose him, on the night of the fatal Sun-
day, both innocent himself and incognizant of an
outrage committed. Yet only under such circum-
stances is it possible to imagine that he would have
failed, if alive, in the denouncement of the assassins.
"And what means are ours of attaining the truth?

322 Works of Edgar Allan Foe

We shall find these means multiplying and gathering
distinctness as we proceed. Let us sift to the bot-
tom this affair of the first elopement. Let us know
the full history of 'the officer/ with his present
circumstances, and his whereabout at the precise
period of the murder. Let us carefully compare with
each other the various communications sent to the
evening paper, in which the object was to inculpate
a gang. This done, let us compare these communi-
cations, both as regards style and MS., with those
sent to the morning paper, at a previous period, and
insisting so vehemently upon the guilt of Mennais.
And, all this done, let us again compare these various
communications with the known MSS. of the officer.
Let us endeavor to ascertain, by repeated question-
ings of Madame Deluc and her boys, as well as of the
omnibus-driver, Valence, something more of the per-
sonal appearance and bearing of the 'man of dark
complexion/ Queries, skilfully directed will not fail
to elicit, from some of these parties, information on
this particular point (or upon others) — informa-
tion which the parties themselves may not even be
aware of possessing. And let us now trace the boat
picked up by the bargeman on the morning of Mon-
day the twenty-third of June, and which was re-
moved from the barge-office, without the cognizance
of the officer in attendance, and without the rudder,
at some period prior to the discovery of the corpse.
With a proper caution and perseverance we shall in-

The Mystery of Marie Roget 323

fallibly trace this boat; for not only can the barge-
man who picked it up identify it, but the rudder is at
hand. The rudder of a sail boat would not have
been abandoned, without inquiry, by one altogether
at ease in heart. And here let me pause to insinuate
a question. There was no advertisement of the pick-
ing up of this boat. It was silently taken to the
barge-office and as silently removed. But its owner
or employer — how happened he, at so early a period
as Tuesday morning, to be informed, without the
agency of advertisement, of the locality of the boat
taken up on Monday, unless we imagine some con-
nection with the navy — some personal permanent
connection leading to cognizance of its minute inter-
ests— its petty local news?

"In speaking of the lonely assassin dragging his
burden to the shore, I have already suggested the
probability of his availing himself of a boat. Now
we are. to understand that Marie Roget was precipi-
tated from a boat. This would naturally have been
the case. The corpse could not have been trusted to
the shallow waters of the shore. The peculiar marks
on the back and shoulders of the victim tell of the
bottom ribs of a boat. That the body was found
without weight is also corroborative of the idea. If
thrown from the shore a weight would have been at-
tached. We can only account for its absence by sup-
posing the murderer to have neglected the precaution
of supplying himself with it before pushing off. In

324 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the act of consigning the corpse to the water, he
would unquestionably have noticed his oversight;
but then no remedy would have been at hand. Any
risk would have been preferred to a return to that
accursed shore. Having rid himself of his ghastly
charge, the murderer would have hastened to the
city. There, at some obscure wharf, he would have
leaped on land. But the boat — would he have se-
cured it ? He would have been in too great haste for
such things as securing a boat. Moreover, in fas-
tening it to the wharf, he would have felt as if secur-
ing evidence against himself. His natural thought
would have been to cast from him, as far as possible,
all that had held connection with his crime. He
would not only have fled from the wharf, but he
would not have permitted the boat to remain. As-
suredly he would have cast it adrift. Let us pursue
our fancies. In the morning, the wretch is stricken
with unutterable horror at finding that the boat has
been picked up and detained at a locality which he is
in the daily habit of frequenting — at a locality, per-
haps, which his duty compels him to frequent. The
next night, without daring to ask for the rudder, he
removes it. Now where is that rudderless boat ? Let
it be one of our first purposes to discover. With the
first glimpse we obtain of it, the dawn of our success
shall begin. This boat shall guide us, with a rapid-
ity which will surprise even ourselves, to him who
employed it in the midnight of the fatal Sabbath.

The Mystery of Marie Roget 325

Corroboration will rise upon corroboration, and the
murderer will be traced."

[For reasons which we shall not specify, but which
to many readers will appear obvious, we have taken
the liberty of here omitting, from the MSS. placed
in our hands, such portion as details the following up
of the apparently slight clew obtained by Dupin.
We feel it advisable only to state, in brief, that the
result desired was brought to pass ; and that the Pre-
fect fulfilled punctually, although with reluctance, the
terms of his compact with the Chevalier. Mr. Poe's
article concludes with the following words. — Eds*]
\^ » It will be understood that I speak of coincidences
and no more. What I have said above upon this
topic must suffice. In my own heart there dwells no
faith in praeter-nature. That Nature and its God are
two, no man who thinks will deny. That the latter,
creating the former, can, at will, control or modify
it, is also unquestionable. I say "at will" ; for the
question is of will, and not, as the insanity of logic
has assumed, of power. It is not that the Deity can
not modify his laws, but that we insult him in imag-
ining a possible necessity for modification. In their
origin these laws were fashioned to embrace all con-
tingencies which could lie in the Future. With God
all is Now.

I repeat, then, that I speak of these things only as

* Of the Magazine in which the article was originally pub-
lished.

326 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of coincidences. And further: in what I relate it
will be seen that between the fate of the unhappy
Mary Cecilia Rogers, so far as that fate is known, and
the fate of one Marie Roget up to a certain epoch in
her history, there has existed a parallel in the con-
templation of whose wonderful exactitude the reason
becomes embarrassed. I say all this will be seen.
But let it not for a moment be supposed that, in pro-
ceeding with the sad narrative of Marie from the
epoch just mentioned, and in tracing to its denoue-
ment the mystery which enshrouded her, it is my co-
vert design to hint at an extension of the parallel, or
even to suggest that the measures adopted in Paris
for the discovery of the assassin of a grisette, or
measures founded in any similar ratiocination would
produce any similar result.

For, in respect to the latter branch of the suppo-
sition, it should be considered that the most trifling
variation in the facts of the two cases might give rise
to the most important miscalculations, by diverting
thoroughly the two courses of events ; very much as,
in arithmetic, an error which, in its own individual-
ity, may be inappreciable, produces, at length, by dint
of multiplication at all points of the process, a re-
sult enormously at variance with truth. And, in re-
gard to the former branch, we must not fail to hold
in view that the very Calculus of Probabilities to
which I have referred, forbids all idea of the ex-
tension of the parallel — forbids it with a positiveness

The Mystery of Marie Roget 327

strong and decided j-ust in proportion as this parallel
has already been long-drawn and exact. This is one
of those anomalous propositions which, seemingly
appealing to thought altogether apart from the
mathematical, is yet one which only the mathema-
tician can fully entertain. Nothing, for example, is
more difficult than to convince the merely general
reader that the fact of sixes having been thrown
twice in succession by a player at dice, is sufficient
cause for betting the largest odds that sixes will not ^^,
be thrown in the third attempt. A suggestion to this
effect is usually rejected by the intellect at once. It
does not appear that the two throws which have been
completed, and which lie now absolutely in the Past,
can have influence upon the throw which exists only
in the Future. The chance for throwing sixes seems
to be precisely as it was at any ordinary time — that
is to say, subject only to the influence of the various
other throws which may be made by the dice. And
this is a reflection which appears so exceedingly ob-
vious that attempts to controvert it are received more
frequently with a derisive smile than with anything
like respectful attention. The error here involved —
a gross error redolent of mischief — I cannot pretend
to expose within the limits assigned me at present;
with the philosophical it needs no exposure. It may
be sufficient here to say that it forms one of an infinite
series of mistakes which arise in the path of Reason/ ,
through her propensity for seeking truth in detail.//

THE BALLOON HOAX

[Astounding News by Express, via Norfolk! — The Atlantic
Crossed in Three Days! Signal Triumph of Mr. Monck
Mason's Flying Machine! — Arrival at Sullivan's Island, near
Charleston, S. C, of Mr. Mason, Mr. Robert Holland, Mr.
Henson, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and four others, in the
Steering Balloon, "Victoria," after a Passage of Seventy-
five Hours from Land to Land! Full Particulars of the
Voyage!

The subjoined jeu d' esprit with the preceding heading in
magnificent capitals, well interspersed with notes of admira-
tion, was originally published, as matter of fact, in the New
York "Sun," a daily newspaper, and therein fully subserved the
purpose of creating indigestible aliment for the quidnuncs
during the few hours intervening between a couple of the
Charleston mails. The rush for the "sole paper which had the
news " was something beyond even the prodigious ; and, in
fact, if (as some assert) the "Victoria" did not absolutely
accomplish the voyage recorded, it will be difficult to assign
a reason why she should not have accomplished it]

TPHE great problem is at length solved! The
1 air, as well as the earth and the ocean, has
been subdued by science, and will become a common
and convenient highway for mankind. The Atlantic
has been actually crossed in a Balloon! and this too
without difficulty — without any great apparent dan-
ger— with thorough control of the machine — and in
the inconceivably brief period of seventy-five hours
from shore to shore ! By the energy of an agent at
Charleston, S. C., we are enabled to be the first to
furnish the public with a detailed account of this
(328)

The Balloon Hoax 329

most extraordinary voyage, which was performed
between Saturday, the 6th instant, at 1 1 A. M. and 2
p. M., on Tuesday, the 9th instant, by Sir Everard
Bringhurst; Mr. Osborne, a nephew of Lord Ben-
tinck's; Mr. Monck Mason and Mr. Robert Holland,
the well-known aeronauts ; Mr. Harrison Ainsworth,
author of "Jack Sheppard," etc. ; and Mr. Henson,
the projector of the late unsuccessful flying machine
— with two seamen from Woolwich — in all, eight
persons. The particulars furnished below may be re-
lied on as authentic and accurate in every respect, as,
with a slight exception, they are copied verbatim
from the joint diaries of Mr. Monck Mason and Mr.
Harrison Ainsworth, to whose politeness our agent
is also indebted for much verbal information respect-
ing the balloon itself, its construction, and other
matters of interest. The only alteration in the MS.
received has been made for the purpose of throwing
the hurried account of our agent, Mr. Forsyth, into a
connected and intelligible form.

"THE BALLOON

"Two very decided failures, of late — those of Mr.
Henson and Sir George Cayley — had much weak-
ened the public interest in the subject of aerial navi-
gation. Mr. Henson's scheme (which at first was
considered very feasible even by men of science) was
founded upon the principle of an inclined plane,
started from an eminence by an extrinsic force, ap-

330 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

plied and continued by the revolution of impinging
vanes, in form and number resembling the vanes of
a windmill. But, in all the experiments made with
models at the Adelaide Gallery, it was found that the
operation of these fans not only did not propel the
machine, but actually impeded its flight. The only
propelling force it ever exhibited was the mere im-
petus acquired from the descent of the inclined plane ;
and this impetus carried the machine further when
the vanes were at rest than when they were in motion
— a fact which sufficiently demonstrates their inutil-
ity ; and in the absence of the propelling, which was
also the sustaining, power, the whole fabric would
necessarily descend. This consideration led Sir
George Cayley to think only of adapting a propeller
to some machine having of itself an independent
power of support — in a word, to a balloon ; the idea,
however, being novel, or original, with Sir George,
only so far as regards the mode of its application to
practice. He exhibited a model of his invention at the
Polytechnic Institution. The propelling principle, or
power, was here, also, applied to interrupted sur-
faces, or vanes, put in revolution. These vanes were
four in number, but were found entirely ineffectual
in moving the balloon, or in aiding its ascending
power. The whole project was thus a complete fail-
ure.

"It was at this juncture that Mr. Monck Mason
(whose voyage from Dover to Weilburg in the bal-

The Balloon Hoax 331

loon ' Nassau* occasioned so much excitement in
1837) conceived the idea of employing the principle
of the Archimedean screw for the purpose of pro-
pulsion through the air — rightly attributing the fail-
ure of Mr. Henson's scheme, and of Sir George Cay-
ley's to the interruption of surface in the independent
vanes. He made the first public experiment at Wil-
lis's Rooms, but afterward removed his model to the
Adelaide Gallery.

"Like Sir George Cay ley's balloon, his own was
an ellipsoid. Its length was thirteen feet six inches
— height, six feet eight inches. It contained about
three hundred and twenty cubic feet of gas, which, if
pure hydrogen, would support twenty-one pounds
upon its first inflation, before the gas has time to de-
teriorate or escape. The weight of the whole ma-
chine and apparatus was seventeen pounds — leaving
about four pounds to spare. Beneath the centre of
the balloon was a frame of light wood, about nine
feet long, and rigged on to the balloon itself with a
network in the customary manner. From this frame-
work was suspended a wicker basket or car.

'The screw consists of an -axis of hollow brass
tube, eighteen inches in length, through which, upon
a semi-spiral inclined at fifteen degrees, pass a series
of steel-wire radii, two feet long, and thus projecting
a foot on either side. These radii are connected at
the outer extremities by two bands of flattened wire
— the whole in this manner forming the framework

332 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

of the screw, which is completed by a covering of
oiled silk cut into gores, and tightened so as to pre-
sent a tolerably uniform surface. At each end of
its axis this screw is supported by pillars of hollow
brass tube descending from the hoop. In the lower
ends of these tubes are holes in which the pivots of
the axis revolve. From the end of the axis which is
next the car, proceeds a shaft of steel, connecting the
screw with the pinion of a piece of spring machinery
fixed in the car. By the operation of this spring, the
screw is made to revolve with great rapidity, com-
municating a progressive motion to the whole. By
means of the rudder, the machine was readily turned
in any direction. The spring was of great power,
compared with its dimensions, being capable of rais-
ing forty-five pounds upon a barrel of four inches
diameter, after the first turn, and gradually increas-
ing as it was wound up. It weighed, altogether,
eight pounds six ounces. The rudder was a light
frame of cane covered with silk, shaped somewhat
like a battledoor, and was about three feet long, and
at the widest, one foot. Its weight was about two
ounces. It could be turned Hat, and directed upward
or downward, as well as to the right or left ; and thus
enabled the aeronaut to transfer the resistance of the
air which in an inclined position it must generate in
its passage, to any side upon which he might desire
to act ; thus determining the balloon in the opposite
direction.

The Balloon Hoax 333

"This model (which, through want of time, we
have necessarily described in an imperfect manner)
was put in action at the Adelaide Gallery, where it
accomplished a velocity of five miles per hour; al-
though, strange to say, it excited very little interest
in comparison with the previous complex machine of
Mr. Henson — so resolute is the world to despise any-
thing which carries with it an air of simplicity. To
accomplish the great desideratum of aerial naviga-
tion, it was very generally supposed that some ex-
ceedingly complicated application must be made of
some unusually profound principle in dynamics.

"So well satisfied, however, was Mr. Mason of the
ultimate success of his invention, that he determined
to construct immediately, if possible, a balloon of
sufficient capacity to test the question by a voyage of
some extent — the original design being to cross the
British Channel, as before, in the 'Nassau' balloon.
To carry out his views, he solicited and obtained the
patronage of Sir Everard Bringhurst and Mr. Os-
borne, two gentlemen well known for scientific ac-
quirement, and especially for the interest they have
exhibited in the progress of aerostation. The proj-
ect, at the desire of Mr. Osborne, was kept a pro-
found secret from the public — the only persons in-
trusted with the design being those actually engaged
in the construction of the machine, which was built
(under the superintendence of Mr. Mason, Mr. Hol-
land, Sir Everard Bringhurst, and Mr. Osborne) at

334 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

the seat of the latter gentleman near Penstruthal, in
Wales. Mr. Henson, accompanied by his friend Mr.
Ainsworth, was admitted to a private view of the
balloon, on Saturday last — when the two gentlemen
made final arrangements to be included in the adven-
ture. We are not informed for what reason the two
seamen were also included in the party — but, in the
course of a day or two, we shall put our readers in
possession of the minutest particulars respecting this
extraordinary voyage.

"The balloon is composed of silk, varnished with
the liquid gum caoutchouc. It is of vast dimensions,
containing more than 40,000 cubic feet of gas; but
as coal-gas was employed in place of the more ex-
pensive and inconvenient hydrogen, the supporting
power of the machine, when fully inflated, and im-
mediately after inflation, is not more than about
2,500 pounds. The coal-gas is not only much less
costly, but is easily procured and managed.

"For its introduction into common use for pur-
poses of aerostation, we are indebted to Mr. Charles
Green. Up to his discovery, the process of inflation
was not only exceedingly expensive, but uncertain.
Two and even three days have frequently been
wasted in futile attempts to procure a sufficiency of
hydrogen to fill a balloon, from which it had great
tendency to escape, owing to its extreme subtlety,
and its affinity for the surrounding atmosphere. In
a balloon sufficiently perfect to retain its contents of

The Balloon Hoax 335

coal-gas unaltered, in quantity or amount, for six
months, an equal quantity of hydrogen could not be
maintained in equal purity for six weeks.

"The supporting power being estimated at 2,500
pounds, and the united weights of the party amount-
ing only to about 1,200, there was left a surplus of
1,300, of which again 1,200 was exhausted by bal-
last, arranged in bags of different sizes, with their
respective weights marked upon them — by cordage,
barometers, telescopes, barrels containing provision
for a fortnight, water-casks, cloaks, carpet-bags, and
various other indispensable matters, including a cof-
fee-warmer, contrived for warming coffee by means
of slack-lime, 'so as to dispense altogether with fire,
if it should be judged prudent to do so. All these
articles, with the exception of the ballast, and a few
trifles, were suspended from the hoop overhead. The
car is much smaller and lighter, in proportion, than
the one appended to the model. It is formed of a
light wicker, and is wonderfully strong, for so frail-
looking a machine. Its rim is about four feet deep.
The rudder is also very much larger, in proportion,
than that of the model ; and the screw is considerably,
smaller. The balloon is furnished besides with a
grapnel and a guide-rope, which latter is of the
most indispensable importance. A few words, in
explanation, will here be necessary for such of our
readers as are not conversant with the details of
aerostation.

336 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"As soon as the balloon quits the earth, it is sub-
jected to the influence of many circumstances tend-
ing to create a difference in its weight ; augmenting
or diminishing its ascending power. For example,
there may be a deposition of dew upon the silk, to
the extent, even, of several hundred pounds; ballast
has then to be thrown out, or the machine may de-
scend. This ballast being discarded, and a clear sun-
shine evaporating the dew, and at the same time ex-
panding the gas in the silk, the whole will again rap-
idly ascend. To check this ascent, the only resource
is (or rather was, until Mr. Green's invention of the
guide-rope) the permission of the escape of gas from
the valve; but in the loss of gas is a proportionate
general loss of ascending power; so that, in a com-
paratively brief period, the best-constructed balloon
must necessarily exhaust all its resources, and come
to the earth. This was the great obstacle to voyages
of length.

"The guide-rope remedies the difficulty in the sim-
plest manner conceivable. It is merely a very long
rope which is suffered to trail from the car, and the
effect of which is to prevent the balloon from chang-
ing its level in any material degree. If, for example,
there should be a deposition of moisture upon the
silk, and the machine begins to descend in conse-
quence, there will be no necessity for discharging
ballast to remedy the increase of weight, for it is
remedied, or counteracted, in an exactly just propor-

The Balloon Hoax 337

tion, by the deposit on the ground of just so much
of the end of the rope as is necessary. If, on the
other hand, any circumstances should cause undue
levity, and consequent ascent, this levity is imme-
diately counteracted by the additional weight of rope
upraised from the earth. Thus the balloon can
neither ascend nor descend except within very nar-
row limits, and its resources, either in gas or ballast,
remain comparatively unimpaired. When passing
over an expanse of water, it becomes necessary to
employ small kegs of copper or wood, filled with
liquid ballast of a lighter nature than water. These
float, and serve all the purposes of a mere rope on
land. Another most important office of the guide-
rope is to point out the direction of the balloon. The
rope drags, either on land or sea, while the balloon is
free; the latter, consequently, is always in advance,
when any progress whatever is made : a comparison,
therefore, by means of the compass, of the relative
positions of the two objects, will always indicate the
course. In the same way, the angle formed by the
rope with the vertical axis of the machine, indicates
the velocity. When there is no angle — in other
words, when the rope hangs perpendicularly — the
whole apparatus is stationary; but the larger the
angle, that is to say, the further the balloon precedes
the end of the rope, the greater the velocity ; and the
converse.

"As the original design was to cross the British

I— Poe— 15

338 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

Channel and alight as near Paris as possible, the
voyagers had taken the precaution to prepare them-
selves with passports directed to all parts of the Con-
tinent, specifying the nature of the expedition, as in
the case of the 'Nassau' voyage, and entitling the ad-
venturers to exemption from the usual formalities
of office ; unexpected events, however, rendered these
passports superfluous.

"The inflation was commenced very quietly at
daybreak, on Saturday morning, the 6th instant, in
the courtyard of Weal-Vor House, Mr. Osborne's
seat, about a mile from Penstruthal, in North Wales ;
and at seven minutes past eleven, everything being
ready for departure, the balloon was set free, rising
gently but steadily, in a direction nearly south; no
use being made, for the first half hour, of either the
screw or the rudder. We proceed now with the
journal, as transcribed by Mr. Forsyth from the
joint MSS. of Mr. Monck Mason and Mr. Ains-
worth. The body of the journal, as given, is in the
handwriting of Mr. Mason, and a P. S. is appended
each day by Mr. Ainsworth, who has in preparation
and will shortly give the public a more minute and,
no doubt, a thrillingly interesting account of the
voyage.

"THE JOURNAL

"Saturday, April the 6th. — Every preparation
likely to embarrass us having been made overnight,
we commenced the inflation this morning at day-

The Balloon Hoax 339

break; but owing to a thick fog, which incumbered
the folds of the silk and rendered it unmanageable,
we did not get through before nearly eleven o'clock.
Cut loose then, in high spirits, and rose gently but
steadily, with a light breeze at north, which bore us
in the direction of the British Channel. Found the
ascending force greater than we had expected; and
as we arose higher and so got clear of the cliffs, and
more in the sun's rays, our ascent became very rapid.
I did not wish, however, to lose gas at so early a
period of the adventure, and so concluded to ascend
for the present. We soon ran out our guide-rope ; but
even when we had raised it clear of the earth, we still
went up very rapidly. The balloon was unusually
steady, and looked beautifully. In about ten min-
utes after starting, the barometer indicated an alti-
tude of 15,000 feet. The weather was remarkably
fine, and the view of the subjacent country — a most
romantic one when seen from any point — was now
especially sublime. The numerous deep gorges pre-
sented the appearance of lakes, on account of the
dense vapors with which they were filled, and the
pinnacles and crags to the* southeast, piled in inex-
tricable confusion, resembled nothing so much as
the giant cities of Eastern fable. We were rapidly
approaching the mountains in the south, but our ele-
vation was more than sufficient to enable us to pass
them in safety. In a few minutes we soared over
them in fine style; and Mr. Ainsworth, with the sea-

34-O Works of Edgar Allan Poe

men, was surprised at their apparent want of alti-
tude when viewed from the car, the tendency of
great elevation in a balloon being to reduce inequali-
ties of the surface below to nearly a dead level. At
half-past eleven, still proceeding nearly south, we ob-
tained our first view of the Bristol Channel, and in
fifteen minutes afterward the line of breakers on
the coast appeared immediately beneath us, and we
were fairly out at sea. We now resolved to let off
enough gas to bring our guide-rope, with the buoys
affixed, into the water. This was immediately done,
and we commenced a gradual descent. In about
twenty minutes our first buoy dipped, and at the
touch of the second soon afterward, we remained
stationary as to elevation. We were all now anxious
to test the efficiency of the rudder and screw, and we
put them both into requisition forthwith, for the
purpose of altering our direction more to the east-
ward, and in a line for Paris. By means of the
rudder we instantly effected the necessary change
of direction, and our course was brought nearly at
right angles to that of the wind ; when we set in mo-
tion the spring of the screw, and were rejoiced to
find it propel us readily as desired. Upon this we
gave nine hearty cheers, and dropped in the sea a
bottle, inclosing a slip of parchment with a brief
account of the principle of the invention. Hardly,
however, had we done with our rejoicings, when an
unforeseen accident occurred which discouraged us

The Balloon Hoax 341

in no little degree. The steel rod connecting the
spring with the propeller was suddenly jerked out of
place, at the car end (by a swaying of the car
through some movement of one of the two seamen
we had taken up), and in an instant hung dangling
out of reach, from the pivot of the axis of the screw.
While we were endeavoring to regain it, our atten-
tion being completely absorbed, we became involved
in a strong current of wind from the east, which
bore us, with rapidly increasing force, toward the
Atlantic. We soon found ourselves driving out to
sea at the rate of not less, certainly, than fifty or
sixty miles an hour, so that we came up with Cape
Clear, at some forty miles to our north, before we
had secured the rod, and had time to think what we
were about. It was now that Mr. Ainsworth made
an extraordinary but, to my fancy, a by no means
unreasonable or chimerical proposition, in which he
was instantly seconded by Mr. Holland — viz. : that
we should take advantage of the strong gale which
bore us on, and in place of beating back to Paris
make an attempt to reach the coast of North Amer-
ica. After slight reflection, I gave a willing assent
to this bold proposition, which (strange to say) met
with objection from the two seamen only. As the
stronger party, however, we overruled their fears,
and kept resolutely upon our course. We steered
due west ; but as the trailing of the buoys materially
impeded our progress, and we had the balloon

342 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

abundantly at command, either for ascent or descent,
we first threw out fifty pounds of ballast, and then
wound up (by means of a windlass) so much of the
rope as brought it quite clear of the sea. We per-
ceived the effect of this manoeuvre immediately, in a
vastly increased rate of progress; and, as the gale
freshened, we flew with a velocity nearly inconceiv-
able, the guide-rope flying out behind the car like
a streamer from a vessel. It is needless to say that
a very short time sufficed us to lose sight of the coast.
We passed over innumerable vessels of all kinds, a
few of which were endeavoring to beat up, but the
most of them lying to. We occasioned the greatest
excitement on board all — an excitement greatly rel-
ished by ourselves, and especially by our two men,
who, now under the influence of a dram of Geneva,
seemed resolved to give all scruple, or fear, to the
wind. Many of the vessels fired signal guns ; and in
all we were saluted with loud cheers (which we
heard with surprising distinctness) and the wav-
ing of caps and handkerchiefs. We kept on in this
manner throughout the day with no material inci-
dent, and, as the shades of night closed around us,
we made a rough estimate of the distance traversed.
It could not have been less than five hundred miles,
and was probably much more. The propeller was
kept in constant operation, and, no doubt, aided our
progress materially. As the sun went down, the
gale freshened into an absolute hurricane, and the

The Balloon Hoax 343

ocean beneath was clearly visible on account of its
phosphorescence. The wind was from the east all
night, and gave us the brightest omen of success.
We suffered no little from cold, and the dampness of
the atmosphere was most unpleasant ; but the ample
space in the car enabled us to lie down, and by means
of cloaks and a few blankets we did sufficiently well.
"P. S. [by Mr. Ainsworth.] The last nine hours
have been unquestionably the most exciting of my
life. I can conceive nothing more sublimating than
the strange peril and novelty of an adventure such
as this. May God grant that we succeed ! I ask not
success for mere safety to my insignificant person,
but for the sake of human knowledge and — for the
vastness of the triumph. And yet the feat is only so
evidently feasible that the sole wonder is why men
have scrupled to attempt it before. One single gale
such as now befriends us — let such a tempest whirl
forward a balloon for four of five days (these gales
often last longer) and the voyager will be easily
borne, in that period, from coast to coast. In view
of such a gale the broad Atlantic becomes a mere
lake. I am more struck, just now, with the supreme
silence which reigns in the sea beneath us, notwith-
standing its agitation, than with any other phe-
nomenon presenting itself. The waters give up no
voice to the heavens. The immense flaming ocean
writhes and is tortured uncomplainingly. The moun-
tainous surges suggest the idea of innumerable

344 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

dumb gigantic fiends struggling in impotent agony.
In a night such as is this to me, a man lives — lives
a whole century of ordinary life — nor would I fore-
go this rapturous delight for that of a whole century
of ordinary existence.

"Sunday, the 7th. [Mr. Mason's MS.] This
morning the gale, by ten, had subsided to an eight
or nine knot breeze (for a vessel at sea), and bears
us, perhaps, thirty miles per hour, or more. It has
veered, however, very considerably to the north ; and
now, at sundown, we are holding our course due
west, principally by the screw and rudder, which
answer their purposes to admiration. I regard the
project as thoroughly successful, and the easy navi-
gation of the air in any direction (not exactly in the
teeth of a gale) as no longer problematical. We
could not have made head against the strong wind
of yesterday ; but, by ascending, we might have got
out of its influence, if requisite. Against a pretty
stiff breeze, I feel convinced, we can make our way
with the propeller. At noon, to-day, ascended to an
elevation of nearly 25,000 feet, by discharging bal-
last. Did this to search for a more direct current,
but found none so favorable as the one we are now
in. We have an abundance of gas to take us across
this small pond, even should the voyage last three
weeks. I have not the slightest fear for the result.
The difficulty has been strangely exaggerated and
misapprehended. I can choose my current, and

The Balloon Hoax 345

should I find all currents against me, I can make very
tolerable headway with the propeller. We have had
no incidents worth recording. The night promises
fair.

"P. S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] I have little to re-
cord, except the fact (to me quite a surprising one)
that, at an elevation equal to that of Cotopaxi, I ex-
perienced neither very intense cold, nor headache,
nor difficulty of breathing; neither, I find, did Mr.
Mason, nor Mr. Holland, nor Sir Everard. Mr. Os-
borne complained of constriction of the chest — but
this soon wore off. We have flown at a great rate
during the day, and we must be more than half way
across the Atlantic. We have passed over some
twenty or thirty vessels of various kinds, and all
seem to be delightfully astonished. Crossing the
ocean in a balloon is not so difficult a feat after all.
Omne ignotum pro magnifico. Mem. : at 25,000 feet
elevation the sky appears nearly black, and the stars
are distinctly visible; while the sea does not seem
convex (as one might suppose) but absolutely and
most unequivocally concave*

* "Note. — Mr. Ainsworth has not attempted to account for
this phenomenon, which, however, is quite susceptible of ex-
planation. A line dropped from an elevation of 25,000 feet,
perpendicularly to the surface of the earth (or sea), would
form the perpendicular of a right-angled triangle, of which the
base would extend from the right angle to the horizon, and the
hypothenuse from the horizon to the balloon. But the 25,000
feet of altitude is little or nothing, in comparison with the
extent of the prospect. In other words, the base and hypothe-

346 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

"Monday, the 8th. [Mr. Mason's MS.] This
morning we had again some little trouble with the
rod of the propeller, which must be entirely remod-
elled, for fear of serious accident — I mean the steel
rod, not the vanes. The latter could not be im-
proved. The wind has been blowing steadily and
strongly from the northeast all day ; and so far for-
tune seems bent upon favoring us. Just before day,
we were all somewhat alarmed at some odd noises
and concussions in the balloon, accompanied with the
apparent rapid subsidence of the whole machine.
These phenomena were occasioned by the expansion
of the gas, through increase of heat in the atmos-
phere, and the consequent disruption of the minute
particles of ice with which the network had become
incrusted during the night. Threw down several
bottles to the vessels below. See one of them picked
up by a large ship — seemingly one of the New York
line packets. Endeavored to make out her name, but
could not be sure of it. Mr. Osborne's telescope

nuse of the supposed triangle would be so long, when com-
pared with the perpendicular, that the two former may be
regarded as nearly parallel. In this manner the horizon of
the aeronaut would appear to be on a level with the car. But,
as the point immediately beneath him seems, and is, at a great
distance below him, it seems, of course, also, at a great dis-
tance below the horizon. Hence the impression of concavity;
and this impression must remain, until the elevation shall bear
so great a proportion to the extent of prospect, that the appa-
rent parallelism of the base and hypothenuse disappears — when
the earth's convexity must become apparent.

The Balloon Hoax 347

made it out something like 'Atalanta.' It is now
twelve at night, and we are still going nearly west, at
a rapid pace. The sea is peculiarly phosphorescent.

"P. S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] It is now 2 A. M.,
and nearly calm, as well as I can judge — but it is
very difficult to determine this point, since we move
with the air so completely. I have not slept since
quitting Wheal-Vor, but can stand it no longer, and
must take a nap. We cannot be far from the Ameri-
can coast.

"Tuesday, the pth. [Mr. Ainsworth's MS.] One
p. M. We are in full view of the low coast of South
Carolina. The great problem is accomplished. We
have crossed the Atlantic — fairly and easily crossed
it in a balloon ! God be praised ! Who shall say that
anything is impossible hereafter ?"

The Journal here ceases. Some particulars of the
descent were communicated, however, by Mr. Ains-
worth to Mr. Forsyth. It was nearly dead calm
when the voyagers first came in view of the coast,
which was immediately recognized by both the sea-
men, and by Mr. Osborne. The latter gentleman
having acquaintances at Fort Moultrie, it was imme-
diately resolved to descend in its vicinity. The bal-
loon was brought over the beach (the tide being out
and the sand hard, smooth, and admirably adapted
for a descent), and the grapnel let go, which took
firm hold at once. The inhabitants of the island,
and of the fort, thronged out, of course, to see the

348 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

balloon; but it was with the greatest difficulty that
any one could be made to credit the actual voyage
— the crossing of the Atlantic. The grapnel caught
at two P.M. precisely; and thus the whole voyage
was completed in seventy-five hours; or rather less,
counting from shore to shore. No serious accident
occurred. No real danger was at any time appre-
hended. The balloon was exhausted and secured
without trouble; and when the MS. from which this
narrative is compiled was despatched from Charles-
ton, the party were still at Fort Moultrie. Their
further intentions were not ascertained; but we can
safely promise our readers some additional informa-
tion either on Monday or in the course of the next
day, at furthest.

This is unquestionably the most stupendous, the
most interesting, and the most important undertak-
ing ever accomplished or even attempted by man.
What magnificent events may ensue, it would be
useless now to think of determining.

MS. FOUND IN A BOTTLE

Qui n'a plus qu'un moment a vivre
N'a plus rien a dissimuler.

— Quinault — A tys

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 diligently garnered up. Beyond all things, the
works of the German moralists gave me great de-
light; not from my ill-advised admiration of their
eloquent madness, but from the ease with which my
habits of rigid thoughts enabled me to detect their
falsities. I have often been reproached with the arid-
ity 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 occur-
rences,, even the least susceptible 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 precincts of truth by the ignes

(349)

350 tWorks of Edgar Allan Poe

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 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 Islands. I went as passenger — having
no other inducement than a kind of nervous restless-
ness which haunted me as a fiend.

Our vessel was a beautiful ship of about four hun-
dred 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 consequently 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 mo-
notony of our course than the occasional meeting
with some of the small grabs of the archipelago 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 from its color as from its being
the first we had seen since our departure from Ba-

MS. Found in a Bottle 351

tavia. 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 no-
tice was soon afterward 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, heav-
ing the lead, 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 impos-
sible to conceive. The flame of a candle 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 bod-
ily to shore, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the
anchor let go. No watch was set, and the crew, con-
sisting principally of Malays, stretched themselves
deliberately upon deck. I went below — not without
a full presentiment of evil. Indeed, every appear-
ance warranted me in apprehending a simoon. I
told the captain of my fears ; but he paid no attention
to what I said, and left me without deigning to give
a reply. My uneasiness, however, prevented me from

352 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

sleeping, and about midnight I went up on deck.
As I placed my foot upon the upper step of the com-
panion-ladder, I was startled by a loud, humming
noise, like that occasioned by the rapid revolution of
a mill-wheel, and before I could ascertain its mean-
ing 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 afore 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 waterlogged, yet, as her masts had gone by
the board, she rose, after a minute, heavily from the
sea, and, staggering awhile beneath the immense
pressure of the tempest, finally righted.

By what miracle I escaped destruction, it is im-
possible 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
regained 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 ingulfed. After a
while I heard the voice of an old Swede, who had
shipped with us at the moment of leaving port. I
halloed 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,

MS. Found in a Bottle 353

with the exception of ourselves, had been swept over-
board; the captain and mates must have perished
while 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 instantaneously over-
whelmed. We scudded with frightful velocity be-
fore the sea, and the water made clear breaches over
us. The framework of our stern was shattered ex-
cessively, and, in almost every respect, we had re-
ceived 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 wind;
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
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
subsistence was a small quantity of jaggeree, pro-
cured with great difficulty from the forecastle— the
hulk flew at a rate defying computation, before rap-
idly succeeding flaws of wind, which, without equal-
ling the first violence of the simoon, were still more

354 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

terrific than any tempest I had before encountered.
Our course for the first four days was, with trifling
variations, S.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 clambered
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 fit-
ful and unsteady fury. About noon, as nearly as we
could guess, our attention was again arrested by the
appearance of the sun. It gave out no light, properly
so called, but a dull and sullen glow without reflec-
tion, as if all its rays were polarized. Just before
sinking within the turgid sea, its central fires sud-
denly 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 yet arrived — to the Swede
never did arrive. Thenceforward we were en-
shrouded 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 continued to rage with
unabated violence, there was no longer to be discov-

MS. Found in a Bottle 355

ered 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 in silent wonder. We neglected all care
of the ship, as worse than useless, and securing our-
selves as well as possible to the stump of the mizzen-
mast, 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 were, how-
ever, well aware of having made further to the south-
ward than any previous navigators, and felt great
amazement at not meeting with the usual impedi-
ments of ice. In the meantime every moment threat-
ened to be our last — every mountainous billow hur-
ried to overwhelm us. The swell surpassed anything
I had imagined possible, and that we were not in-
stantly 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 pre-
pared 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 appall-
ing. At times we gasped for breath at an elevation
beyond the albatross— at times became dizzy with
the velocity of our descent into some watery hell,

356 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

where the air grew stagnant, and no sound disturbed
the slumbers of the kraken.

We were at the bottom of one of these abysses,
when a quick scream from my companion broke fear-
fully upon the night. "See ! see !" cried he, shriek-
ing in my 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. Casting my eyes upward, 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 thousand tons. Although up-
reared upon the summit of a wave more than a hun-
dred times her own altitude, her apparent size still
exceeded that of any ship of the line or East India-
man 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
protruded from her open ports, and dashed from the
polished surfaces the fires of innumerable battle-lan-
terns which swung to and fro about her rigging.
But what mainly inspired us with horror and aston-
ishment was that she bore up under a press of sail
in the very teeth of that supernatural sea, and of that
ungovernable hurricane. When we first discovered
her, her bows were alone to be seen, as she rose
slowly from the dim and horrible gulf beyond her.

MS. Found in a Bottle 357

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
overwhelm. 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,
consequently, in that portion of her frame which was
nearly under water, and the inevitable result was to
hurl 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 oppor-
tunity 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

358 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

such a manner as to afford me a convenient retreat
between the huge timbers of the ship.

I had scarcely completed my work, when a foot-
step 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 in-
firmity. 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 naviga-
tion. His manner was a wild mixture of the peev-
ishness of second childhood, and the solemn dignity
of a god. He at length went on deck, and I saw
him no more.

A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken
possession of my soul — a sensation which will admit
of no analysis, to which the lessons of bygone time
are inadequate, 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

MS. Found in a Bottle 359

novel. A new sense — a new entity is added to my
soul.

It is long since I first trod the deck of this ternble
ship, and the rays of my destiny are, I think, gather-
ing to a focus. Incomprehensible men ! Wrapped
up in meditations of a kind which I can not divine,
they pass me by unnoticed. Concealment is utter
folly on my part, for the people will not see. It is
but just now that I passed directly before the eyes of
the mate ; it was no long while ago that I ventured
into the captain'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 trans-
mitting it to the world, but I will not fail to make the
endeavor. At the last moment I will inclose 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 had ventured upon deck
and thrown myself down, without attracting any no-
tice, among a pile of ratlin-stuff and old sails in the
bottom of the yawl. While musing upon the singu-
larity 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

360 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

touches of the brush are spread out into the word
DISCOVERY.

I have made my 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 anti-
quated stern, there will occasionally flash across my
mind a sensation of familiar things, and there is al-
ways mixed up with such indistinct shadows of rec-
ollection, an unaccountable 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 por-
ousness, 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 perhaps an observation
somewhat over curious, but this would have every
characteristic of Spanish oak, if Spanish oak were
distended by any unnatural means.

MS. Found in a Bottle 361

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 say, when any doubt was entertained of his verac-
ity, "as sure as there is a sea where the ship itself
will grow in bulk like the living body of the sea-
man."

About an hour ago, I made bold to trust myself
among a group of the crew. They paid no manner
of attention, and, although I stood in the very midst
of them all, seemed utterly unconscious of my pres-
ence. Like the one I had at 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
shrivelled skins rattled in the wind ; 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 obsolete 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 truck to her lower studding-sail
booms, and rolling every moment her top-gallant

362 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

yard-arms into the most appalling 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 expe-
rience little inconvenience. It appears to me a mir-
acle of miracles that our enormous bulk is not swal-
lowed up at once and forever. We are surely
doomed to hover continually upon the brink of eter-
nity, without taking a final plunge into the abyss.
From billows a thousand times more stupendous
than any I have ever seen, we glide away with the
facility of the arrowy sea-gull ; and the colossal wa-
ters rear their heads above us like demons of the
deep, but like demons confined to simple threats, and
forbidden to destroy. I am led to attribute these fre-
quent 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 undertow.

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 rever-
ence 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,

MS. Found in a Bottle 363

neither robust nor remarkable otherwise. But it is
the singularity of the expression which reigns upon
the face — it is the intense, the wonderful, the thrill-
ing evidence of old age so utter, so extreme, which
excites within my spirit a sense — a sentiment ineffa-
ble. 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 mon-
arch. He murmured 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.

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

364 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

shadows of fallen columns at Balbec, and Tadmor,
and Persepolis, until my very soul has become a ruin.

When I look around me, I feel ashamed of my
former apprehension. If I trembled at the blast
which has hitherto attended us, shall I not stand
aghast at a warring of wind and ocean, to convey
any idea of which the words tornado and simoon are
trivial and ineffective? All in the immediate vicin-
ity 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 in-
tervals, 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, thun-
ders on to the southward with a velocity like the
headlong dashing of a cataract.

To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I pre-
sume, 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 onward to some exciting knowledge —
some never-to-be-imparted secret, whose attainment

MS. Found in a Bottle 365

is destruction. Perhaps this current leads us to the
southern pole itself. It must be confessed that a sup-
position apparently so wild has every probability in
its favor.

The crew pace the deck with unquiet and tremu-
lous step ; but there is upon their countenance and ex-
pression more of the eagerness 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 con-
centric 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 cir-
cles rapidly grow small — we are plunging madly
within the grasp of the whirlpool — and amid a roar-
ing, and bellowing, and thundering of ocean and
tempest, the ship is quivering — oh God ! and — going
down!

Note.— The "MS. Found in a Bottle" was originally pub-
lished in 1831, and it was not until many years afterward 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.

THE OVAL PORTRAIT

THE chateau into which my valet had ventured to
make forcible entrance, rather than permit me,
in my desperately wounded condition, to pass a night
in the open air, was one of those piles of com-
mingled gloom and grandeur which have so long
frowned among the Apennines, not less in fact than
in the fancy of Mrs. Radcliffe. To all appearance it
had been temporarily and very lately abandoned. We
established ourselves in one of the smallest and least
sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a re-
mote turret of the building. Its decorations were
rich, yet tattered and antique. Its walls were hung
with tapestry and bedecked with manifold and multi-
form armorial trophies, together with an unusually
great number of very spirited modern paintings in
frames of rich golden arabesque. In these paint-
ings, which depended from the walls not only in
their main surfaces, but in very many nooks which
the bizarre architecture of the chateau rendered nec-
essary— in these paintings my incipient delirium, per-
haps, had caused me to take deep interest ; so that I
bade Pedro to close the heavy shutters of the room —
since it was already night — to light the tongues of
a tall candelabrum which stood by the head of my
(366)

The Oval Portrait 367

bed, and to throw open far and wide the fringed cur-
tains of black velvet which enveloped the bed itself.
I wished all this done that I might resign myself, if
not to sleep, at least alternately to the contemplation
of these pictures, and the perusal of a small volume
which had been found upon the pillow, and which
purported to criticise and describe them.

Long, long I read — and devoutly, devoutly I
gazed. Rapidly and gloriously the hours flew by
and the deep midnight came. The position of the
candelabrum displeased me, and outreaching my
hand with difficulty, rather than disturb my slumber-
ing valet, I placed it so as to throw its rays more
fully upon the book.

But the action produced an effect altogether un-
anticipated. The rays of the numerous candles (for
there were many) now fell within a niche of the
room which had hitherto been thrown into deep
shade by one of the bedposts. I thus saw in vivid
light a picture all unnoticed before. It was the por-
trait of a young girl just ripening into womanhood.
I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed
my eyes. Why I did this was not at first apparent
even to my own perception. But while my lids re-
mained thus shut, I ran over in mind my reason for
so shutting them. It was an impulsive movement
to gain time for thought — to make sure that my vis-
ion had not deceived me — to calm and subdue my
fancy for a more sober and more certain gaze. In

368 Works of Edgar Allan Poe

a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the
painting.

That I now saw aright I could not and would noli
doubt ; for the first flashing of the candles upon that
canvas had seemed to dissipate the dreamy stupor
which was stealing over my senses, and to startle me
at once into waking life.

The portrait, I have already said, was that of a
young girl. It was a mere head and shoulders, done
in what is technically termed a vignette manner;
much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully. The
arms, the bosom, and even the ends of the radiant
hair melted inperceptibly into the vague yet deep
shadow which formed the background of the whole.
The frame was oval, richly gilded and filigreed in
Moresque. As a thing of art nothing could be more
admirable than the painting itself. But it could have
been neither the execution of the work, nor the im-
mortal beauty of the countenance, which had so sud-
denly and so vehemently moved me. Least of all,
could it have been that my fancy, shaken from its
half slumber, had mistaken the head for that of a
living person. I saw at once that the peculiarities
of the design, of the vignetting, and of the frame,
must have instantly dispelled such idea — must have
prevented even its momentary entertainment Think-
ing earnestly upon these points, I remained, for an
hour perhaps, half sitting, half reclining, with my
vision riveted upon the portrait. At length, satisfied

The Oval Portrait 369

with the true secret of its effect, I fell back within
the bed. I had found the spell of the picture in an
absolute life-likeliness of expression, which, at first
startling, finally confounded, subdued, and appalled
me. With deep and reverent awe I replaced the
candelabrum in its former position. The cause of
my deep agitation being thus shut from view, I
sought eagerly the volume which discussed the paint-
ings and their histories. Turning to the number
which designated the oval portrait, I there read the
vague and quaint words which follow :

"She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more
lovely than full of glee. And evil was the hour
when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter.
He, passionate, studious, austere, and having al-
ready a bride in his Art: she a maiden of rarest
beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee; all
light and smiles, and frolicsome as the young fawn ;
loving and cherishing all things ; hating only the Art
which was her rival; dreading only the pallet and
brushes and other untoward instruments which de-
prived her of the countenance of her lover. It was
thus a terrible thing for this lady to hear the painter
speak of his desire to portray even his young bride.
But she was humble and obedient, and sat meekly
for many weeks in the dark high turret-chamber
where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only
from overhead. But he, the painter, took glory in
his work, which went on from hour to hour, and

37° iWorks of Edgar Allan Poe

from day to day. And he was a passionate, and
wild, and moody man, who became lost in reveries ;
so that he would not see that the light which fell so
ghastly in that lone turret withered the health and
the spirits of his bride, who pined visibly to all but
him. Yet she smiled on and still on, uncomplain-
ingly, because she saw that the painter (who had
high renown) took a fervid and burning pleasure in
his task, and wrought day and night to depict her
who so loved him, yet who grew daily more dis-
pirited and weak. And in sooth some who beheld
the portrait spoke of its resemblance in low words,
as of a mighty marvel, and a proof not less of the
power of the painter than of his deep love for her
whom he depicted so surpassingly well. But at
length, as the labor drew nearer to its conclusion,
there were admitted none into the turret; for the
painter had grown wild with the ardor of his work,
and turned his eyes from the canvas rarely, even to
regard the countenance of his wife. And he would
not see that the tints which he spread upon the can-
vas were drawn from the cheeks of her who sat be-
side him. And when many weeks had passed, and
but little remained to do, save one brush upon the
mouth and one tint upon the eye, the spirit of the
lady again flickered up as the flame within the socket
of the lamp. And then the brush was given, and
then the tint was placed; and, for one moment, the
painter stood entranced before the work which he

The Oval Portrait 371

had wrought ; but in the next, while he yet gazed, he
grew tremulous and very pallid, and aghast, and
crying with a loud voice, This is indeed Life itself !'
turned suddenly to regard his beloved: — She was
'dead!"

END OF VOLUME ONE

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

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