Edgar
Allan Poe, 1843
TRUE! --nervous
--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I
am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them.
Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and
in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the
whole story.
It is impossible to say how
first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived,
it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I
loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For
his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes,
it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over
it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very
gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid
myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy
me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen
how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what
dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the
whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the
latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an
opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed,
that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have
laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very
slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to
place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay
upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my
head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously
--cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single
thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights
--every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it
was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his
Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the
chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone,
and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very
profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked
in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more
than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more
quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own
powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To
think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to
dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and
perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you
may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the
thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of
robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I
kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about
to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old
man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said
nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did
not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as
I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan,
and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of
grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of
the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just
at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled
up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that
distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied
him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever
since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been
ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but
could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in
the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is
merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying
to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All
in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow
before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the
unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard
--to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time,
very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a
very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine
how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread
of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.
It was open --wide, wide open
--and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness
--all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in
my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I
had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.
And have I not told you that
what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say,
there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old
man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the
soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you
will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the
concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence.
First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the
legs.
I then took up three planks from
the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then
replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his
--could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain
of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had
caught all --ha! ha!
When I had made an end of these
labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the
hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a
light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who
introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A
shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the
night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at
the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the
premises.
I smiled, --for what had I to
fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream.
The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all
over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his
chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of
my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest
from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect
triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse
of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My
manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I
answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt
myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a
ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became
more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to
get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at
length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.
No doubt I now grew very pale;
--but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound
increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a
sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet
the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the
noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and
with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they
not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to
fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God!
what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung
the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the
noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder!
And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard
not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and
this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more
tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer!
I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again!
--hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"