SELECTIONS FROM POE

Edited with Biographical and Critical Introduction and Notes

BY

J. MONTGOMERY GAMBRILL

Head of the Department of History and CivicsBaltimore Polytechnic Institute

INSCRIBED TO THE POE AND LOWELL LITERARY SOCIETIES OF THEBALTIMORE POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE

[Illustration: EDGAR ALLAN POE. After an engraving by Cole]

[Editor's Note: The non-ASCII characters in "The Gold-Bug", dagger, double dagger, and paragraph mark, have been replaced by y, Y, andP respectively. ]

PREFACE

Edgar Allan Poe has been the subject of so much controversy that he isthe one American writer whom high-school pupils (not to mentionteachers) are likely to approach with ready-made prejudices. It isimpossible to treat such a subject in quite the ordinarymatter-of-course way. Furthermore, his writings are so highlysubjective, and so intimately connected with his strongly heldcritical theories, as to need somewhat careful and extended study. These facts make it very difficult to treat either the man or his artas simply as is desirable in a secondary text-book. Consequently theIntroduction is longer and less simple than the editor would desirefor the usual text. It is believed, however, that the teacher can takeup this Introduction with the pupil in such a way as to make ithelpful, significant, and interesting. 

The text of the following poems and tales is that of theStedman-Woodberry edition (described in the Bibliography, p. Xxx), andthe selections are reprinted by permission of the publishers, Duffield& Company; this text is followed exactly except for a very few changesin punctuation, not more than five or six in all. My obligations toother works are too numerous to mention; all the publications includedin the Bibliography, besides a number of others, have been examined, but I especially desire to acknowledge the courtesy of Dr. HenryBarton Jacobs of Baltimore, who sent me from Paris a copy of EmileLauvriere's interesting and important study, "Edgar Poe: Sa vie et sonoeuvre; etude de psychologie pathologique. " To my wife I am indebtedfor valuable assistance in the tedious work of reading proofs andverifying the text. 

CONTENTS

 PREFACE

 INTRODUCTION

 BIBLIOGRAPHY

 POEMS SONG SPIRITS OF THE DEAD TO ---- ROMANCE TO THE RIVER TO SCIENCE TO HELEN ISRAFEL THE CITY IN THE SEA THE SLEEPER LENORE THE VALLEY OF UNREST THE COLISEUM HYMN TO ONE IN PARADISE TO F---- TO F----S S. O----D TO ZANTE BRIDAL BALLAD SILENCE THE CONQUEROR WORM DREAM-LAND THE RAVEN EULALIE TO M. L. S---- ULALUME TO ---- ---- AN ENIGMA TO HELEN A VALENTINE FOR ANNIE THE BELLS ANNABEL LEE TO MY MOTHER ELDORADO THE HAUNTED PALACE

 TALES THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER WILLIAM WILSON A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH THE GOLD-BUG THE PURLOINED LETTER

 NOTES

INTRODUCTION

EDGAR ALLAN POE: HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND ART

Edgar Allan Poe is in many respects the most fascinating figure inAmerican literature. His life, touched by the extremes of fortune, wason the whole more unhappy than that of any other of our prominent menof letters. His character was strangely complex, and was the subjectof misunderstanding during his life and of heated dispute after hisdeath; his writings were long neglected or disparaged at home, whileaccepted abroad as our greatest literary achievement. Now, after morethan half a century has elapsed since his death, careful biographershave furnished a tolerably full account of the real facts about hislife; a fairly accurate idea of his character is winning generalacceptance; and the name of Edgar Allan Poe has been conceded a placeamong the two or three greatest in our literature. 

LIFE AND CHARACTER

In December, 1811, a well-known actress of the time died in Richmond, leaving destitute three little children, the eldest but four years ofage. This mother, who was Elizabeth (Arnold) Poe, daughter of anEnglish actress, had suffered from ill health for several years andhad long found the struggle for existence difficult. Her husband, David Poe, probably died before her; he was a son of General DavidPoe, a Revolutionary veteran of Baltimore, and had left his home andlaw books for the stage several years before his marriage. The secondof the three children, born January 19, 1809, in Boston, where hisparents happened to be playing at the time, was Edgar Poe, the futurepoet and story-writer. The little Edgar was adopted by the wife ofMr. John Allan, a well-to-do Scotch merchant of the city, who laterbecame wealthy, and the boy was thereafter known as Edgar AllanPoe. He was a beautiful and precocious child, who at six years of agecould read, draw, dance, and declaim the best poetry with fine effectand appreciation; report says, also, that he had been taught to standon a chair and pledge Mr. Allan's guests in a glass of wine with"roguish grace. "

In 1815 Mr. Allan went to England, where he remained five years. Edgarwas placed in an old English school in the suburbs of London, amonghistoric, literary, and antiquarian associations, and possibly wastaken to the Continent by his foster parents at vacation seasons. TheEnglish residence and the sea voyages left deep impressions on theboy's sensitive nature. Returning to Richmond, he was prepared in goodschools for the University of Virginia, which he entered at the age ofseventeen, pursuing studies in ancient and modern languages andliteratures. During this youthful period he was already developing astriking and peculiar personality. He was brilliant, if notindustrious, as a student, leaving the University with highest honorsin Latin and French; he was quick and nervous in his movements andgreatly excelled in athletics, especially in swimming; in character, he was reserved, solitary, sensitive, and given to lonely reverie. Some of his aristocratic playmates remembered to his discredit that hewas the child of strolling players, and their attitude helped to add astrain of defiance to an already intensely proud nature. Though kindlytreated by his foster parents, this strange boy longed for anunderstanding sympathy that was not his. Once he thought he had foundit in Mrs. Jane Stannard, mother of a schoolmate; but the new friendsoon died, and for months the grief-stricken boy, it is said, hauntedthe lonely grave at night and brooded over his loss and the mystery ofdeath--a not very wholesome experience for a lonely and melancholy ladof fifteen years. 

At the University he drank wine, though not intemperately, and playedcards a great deal, the end of the term finding him with gamblingdebts of twenty-five hundred dollars. These habits were common at thetime, and Edgar did not incur any censure from the faculty; butMr. Allan declined to honor the gambling debt, removed Edgar, andplaced him in his own counting room. Such a life was too dull for thehigh-spirited, poetic youth, and he promptly left his home. 

Going to Boston, he published a thin volume of boyish verse, "Tamerlane, and Other Poems, " but realizing nothing financially, [1] heenlisted in the United States Army as Edgar A. Perry. After two yearsof faithful and efficient service, he procured through Mr. Allan (whowas temporarily reconciled to him) an appointment to the West PointMilitary Academy, entering in July, 1830. In the meantime, he hadpublished in Baltimore a second small volume of poems. Fellow-studentshave described him as having a "worn, weary, discontented look";usually kindly and courteous, but shy, reserved, and exceedinglysensitive; an extraordinary reader, but noted for carping criticism. Although a good student, he seemed galled beyond endurance by themonotonous routine of military duties, which he deliberately neglectedand thus procured his dismissal from the Academy. He left, alone andpenniless, in March, 1831. 

[Footnote 1: In November, 1900, a single copy of this little volumesold in New York for $2550. ]

Going to New York, Poe brought out another little volume of poemsshowing great improvement; then he went to Baltimore, and after aprecarious struggle of a year or two, turned to prose, and, while ingreat poverty, won a prize of one hundred dollars from the Baltimore_Saturday Visitor_ for his story, "The Manuscript Found in aBottle. " Through John P. Kennedy[1], one of the judges whosefriendship the poverty-stricken author gained, he procured a good dealof hack work, and finally an editorial position on the _SouthernLiterary Messenger_, of Richmond. The salary was fair, and betterwas in sight; yet Poe was melancholy, dissatisfied, and miserable. Hewrote a pitiable letter to Mr. Kennedy, asking to be convinced "thatit is at all necessary to live. "

[Footnote 1: A well-known Marylander, author of "Horse-Shoe Robinson, ""Swallow Barn, " "Rob of the Bowl, " and other popular novels of theday, and later Secretary of the Navy. ]

For several years he had been making his home with an aunt, Mrs. Clemm, and her daughter, Virginia, a girl beautiful in character andperson, but penniless and probably already a victim of the consumptionthat was eventually to cause her death. In 1836, when she was onlyfourteen years old, Poe married his cousin, to whom he waspassionately attached. His devotion to her lasted through life, andthe tenderest affection existed between him and Mrs. Clemm, who wasall a mother could have been to him; so that the home life was alwaysbeautiful in spirit, however poor in material comfort. 

In January, 1837, his connection with the _Messenger_ wassevered, probably because of his occasional lapses from sobriety; buthis unfortunate temperament and his restless ambition were doubtlessfactors. With some reputation as poet, story-writer, critic, andeditor, Poe removed to New York, and a year later to Philadelphia, where he remained until 1844. Here he found miscellaneous literary, editorial, and hack work, finally becoming editor of _Graham'sMagazine_, which prospered greatly under his management, increasingits circulation from eight thousand to forty thousand within ayear. But Poe's restless spirit was dissatisfied. He was intenselyanxious to own a magazine for himself, and had already made severalunsuccessful efforts to obtain one, --efforts which were to be repeatedat intervals, and with as little success, until the day his death. Hevainly sought a government position, that a livelihood might beassured while he carried out his literary plans. Finally he left_Graham's_, doubtless because of personal peculiarities, sincehis occasional inebriety did not interfere with his work; and therefollowed a period of wretched poverty, broken once by the winning of aprize of one hundred dollars for "The Gold Bug. "

He continued to be known as a "reserved, isolated, dreamy man, ofhigh-strung nerves, proud spirit, and fantastic moods, " with ahaunting sense of impending evil. His home was poor and simple, butimpressed every visitor by its neatness and quiet refinement;Virginia, accomplished in music and languages, was as devoted to herhusband as he was to her. Both were fond of flowers and plants, and ofhousehold pets. Mrs. Clemm gave herself completely to her "children"and was the business manager of the family. 

In the spring of 1844 Poe went with Virginia to New York, practicallypenniless, and to Mrs. Clemm, who did not come at once, he wrote withpathetic enthusiasm of the generous meals served at their boardinghouse. He obtained a position on the _Evening Mirror_ at smallpay, but did his dull work faithfully and efficiently; later, hebecame editor of the _Broadway Journal_, in which he printedrevisions of his best tales and poems. In 1845 appeared "The Raven, "which created a profound sensation at home and abroad, and immediatelywon, and has since retained, an immense popularity. He was at theheight of his fame, but poor, as always. In 1846 he published "TheLiterati, " critical comments on the writers of the day, in which theliterary small fry were mercilessly condemned and ridiculed. Thisnaturally made Poe a host of enemies. One of these, Thomas DunnEnglish, published an abusive article attacking the author'scharacter, whereupon Poe sued him for libel and obtained two hundredand twenty-five dollars damages. 

The family now moved to a little three-room cottage at Fordham, aquiet country place with flowers and trees and pleasant vistas; butillness and poverty were soon there, too. In 1841 Virginia had bursta blood vessel while singing, and her life was despaired of; this hadhappened again and again, leaving her weaker each time. As the summerand fall of this year wore away, she grew worse and needed thetenderest care and attention. But winter drew on, and with it camecold and hunger; the sick girl lay in an unheated room on a straw bed, wrapped in her husband's coat, the husband and mother trying to chafea little warmth into her hands and feet. Some kind-hearted womenrelieved the distress in a measure, but on January 30, 1847, Virginiadied. The effect on Poe was terrible. It is easy to see how a veryartist of death, who could study the dreadful stages of its slowapproach and seek to penetrate the mystery of its ultimate nature withsuch intense interest and deep reflection as did Poe, must havebrooded and suffered during the years of his wife's illness. His ownhealth had long been poor; his brain was diseased and insanity seemedimminent. After intense grief came a period of settled gloom andhaunting fear. The less than three years of life left for him was aperiod of decline in every respect. But he remained in the littlecottage, finding some comfort in caring for his flowers and pets, andtaking long solitary rambles. During this time he thought out andwrote "Eureka, " a treatise on the structure, laws, and destiny of theuniverse, which he desired to have regarded as a poem. 

Poe had always felt a need for the companionship of sympathetic andaffectionate women, for whom he entertained a chivalric regardamounting to reverence. After the shock of his wife's death hadsomewhat worn away, he began to depend for sympathy upon various womenwith whom he maintained romantic friendships. Judged by ordinarystandards, his conduct became at times little short of maudlin; hiscorrespondence showed a sort of gasping, frantic dependence upon thesympathy and consolation of these women friends, and exhibited apainful picture of a broken man. Mrs. Shew, one of the kind women whohad relieved the family at the time of Virginia's last illness, strongly advised him to marry, and he did propose marriage toMrs. Sara Helen Whitman, a verse writer of some note in her day. Aftera wild and exhausting wooing, begun in an extravagantly romanticmanner, the match was broken off through the influence of the lady'sfriends. When it was all over Poe seemed very little disturbed. Thetruth is, he was a wreck, and feeling utterly dependent, clutchedfrantically at every hope of sympathy and consolation. His only reallove was for his dead wife, which he recorded shortly before his deathin the exquisite lyric, "Annabel Lee. "

In July, 1849, full of the darkest forebodings, and predicting that heshould never return, Poe went to Richmond. Here he spent a few quietmonths, part of the time fairly cheerful, but twice yielding to thetemptation to drink, and each time suffering, in consequence, adangerous illness. On September 30 he left Richmond for New York withfifteen hundred dollars, the product of a recent lecture arranged bykind Richmond friends. What happened during the next three days is animpenetrable mystery, but on October 3 (Wednesday) he was found in anelection booth in Baltimore, desperately ill, his money and baggagegone. The most probable story is that he had been drugged by politicalworkers, imprisoned in a "coop" with similar victims, and used as arepeater [1], this procedure being a common one at the time. Whetherhe was also intoxicated is a matter of doubt. There could be but oneeffect on his delicate and already diseased brain. He was taken to ahospital unconscious, lingered several days in the delirium of aviolent brain fever, and in the early dawn of Sunday, October 7, breathed his last. 

[Footnote 1: Repeater, a person who illegally votes more than once]

The dead author's character immediately became the subject of violentcontroversy. His severe critical strictures had made him many enemiesamong the minor writers of the day and their friends. One of the menwho had suffered from Poe's too caustic pen was Rufus W. Griswold, butfriendly relations had been nominally established and Poe hadauthorized Griswold to edit his works. This Griswold did, including abiography which Poe's friends declared a masterpiece of maliciousdistortion and misrepresentation; it certainly was grossly unfair andinaccurate. Poe's friends retorted, and a long war of words followed, in which hatred or prejudice on the one side and wholesale, undiscriminating laudation on the other, alike tended to obscure thetruth. It is now almost impossible to see the real Poe, just as heappeared to an ordinary, unprejudiced observer of his own time. Onlyby the most careful, thoughtful, and sympathetic study can we hope toapproximate such an acquaintance. 

The fundamental fact about Poe is a very peculiar and unhappytemperament, certain characteristic qualities of which began todisclose themselves in early boyhood and, fostered by the vicissitudesof his career, developed throughout his life. 

In youth he was nervous, sensitive, morbid, proud, solitary, andwayward; and as the years went by, bringing poverty, illness, and thebitterness of failure, often through his own faults, the man becameirritable, impatient, often morose. He had always suffered from fitsof depression, --"blue devils, " Mr. Kennedy called them, --and thoughhe was extravagantly sanguine at times, melancholy was his usual mood, often manifesting itself in a haunting fear of evil to come. Thepeculiar character of his wonderful imagination made actual life lessreal to him than his own land of dreams: the "distant Aidenn, " the"dim lake of Auber, " the "kingdom by the sea, " seemed more genuinethan the landscapes of earth; the lurid "city in the sea" moresubstantial than the streets he daily walked. 

Because of this intensely subjective and self-absorbed character ofmind, he had no understanding of human nature, no insight intocharacter with its marvelous complexities and contradictions. Withthese limitations Poe, as might be expected, had a very defectivesense of humor, lacked true sympathy, was tactless, possessed littlebusiness ability, and was excessively annoyed by the dull routine andrude frictions of ordinary life. He was always touched by kindness, but was quick to resent an injury, and even as a boy could not endurea jest at his expense. He had many warm and devoted friends whom heloved in return, but the limitations of his own nature probably made areally frank, unreserved friendship impossible; and when a breakoccurred, he was apt to assume that his former friend was an uttervillain. These personal characteristics, in conjunction with a goadingambition which took form in the idea of an independent journal of hisown in which he might find untrammeled expression, added uneasinessand restlessness to a constantly discontented nature. To some extent, at least, Poe realized the curse of such a temperament, but he strovevainly against its impulses. 

The one genuine human happiness of this sad life was found in asingularly beautiful home atmosphere. Husband and wife werepassionately devoted to each other, and Mrs. Clemm was more than amother to both. She says of her son-in-law: "At home, he was simpleand affectionate as a child, and during all the years he lived withme, I do not remember a single night that he failed to come and kisshis 'mother, ' as he called me, before going to bed. " This faithfulwoman remained devoted to him after Virginia's death, and to hismemory, when calumny assailed it, after his own. 

The capital charge against Poe's character has been intemperance, andalthough the matter has been grossly exaggerated and misrepresented, the charge is true. Except for short periods, he was never what isknown as dissipated, and he struggled desperately against hisweakness, --an unequal struggle, since the craving was inherited, andfostered by environment, circumstances, and temperament. One of hisbiographers tells of bread soaked in gin being fed to the little Poechildren by an old nurse during the illness of their mother; and thereis another story, already mentioned, of the little Edgar, in hisadoptive home, taught to pledge the guests as a social grace. Drinking was common at the time, wine was offered in every home and atevery social function, and in the South, where Poe spent his youth andearly manhood, the spirit of hospitality and conviviality held outconstant temptation. To his delicate organization strong drink earlybecame a veritable poison, and indulgence that would have been a smallmatter to another man was ruinous to him; indeed, a single glass ofwine drove him practically insane, and a debauch was sure tofollow. Indulgence was stimulated, also, by the nervous strain andworry induced by uncertain livelihood and privation, the frequent fitsof depression, and by constant brooding. Sometimes he fought hisweakness successfully for several years, but always it conquered inthe end. 

Moreover, he speaks of a very special cause in the latter part of hislife, which in fairness should be heard in his own written words to afriend: "Six years ago a wife, whom I loved as no man ever lovedbefore, ruptured a blood vessel in singing. Her life was despairedof. I took leave of her forever and underwent all the agonies of herdeath. She recovered partially and I again hoped. At the end of a yearthe vessel broke again. I went through precisely the same scene. .. . Then again--again--and even once again, at varying intervals. Eachtime I felt all the agonies of her death--and at each accession of herdisorder I loved her more dearly and clung to her life with moredesperate pertinacity. But I am constitutionally sensitive--nervous ina very unusual degree. I became insane, with long intervals ofhorrible sanity. During these fits of absolute unconsciousness, Idrank--God only knows how often or how much. As a matter of course, myenemies referred the insanity to the drink, rather than the drink tothe insanity. .. . It was the horrible never-ending oscillation betweenhope and despair, which I could _not_ longer have endured withouttotal loss of reason. In the death of what was my life, then, Ireceived a new, but--O God!--how melancholy an existence!"

This statement, and the other facts mentioned, are not offered aswholly excusing Poe. Doubtless a stronger man would have resisted, doubtless a less self-absorbed man would have thought of his wife'shappiness as well as of his own relief from torture. Yet thefair-minded person, familiar with Poe's unhappy life, and keeping inmind the influences of heredity, temperament, and environment, willhesitate to pronounce a severe judgment. 

Poe was also accused of untruthfulness, and this accusation likewisehas a basis of fact. He repeatedly furnished or approved statementsregarding his life and work that were incorrect, he often made adisingenuous show of pretended learning, and he sometimes misstatedfacts to avoid wounding his own vanity. This ugly fault seems to haveresulted from a fondness for romantic posing, and is doubtless relatedto the peculiar character of imagination already mentioned. Perhaps, too, he inherited from his actor parents a love of applause, and ifso, the trait was certainly encouraged in early childhood. There isno evidence that he was ever guilty of malicious or mercenaryfalsehood. 

Another of his bad habits was borrowing, but it must be rememberedthat his life was one long struggle with grinding poverty, that he andthose dear to him sometimes suffered actual hunger and cold. Many whoknew him testified to his anxiety to pay all his debts, Mr. Grahamreferring to him in this particular as "the soul of honor. "

In a letter to Lowell, Poe has well described himself in a sentence:"My life has been whim--impulse--passion--a longing for solitude--ascorn of all things present in an earnest desire for the future. "Interpreted, this means that in a sense he never really reachedmaturity, that he remained a slave to his impulses and emotions, thathe detested the ordinary business of life and could not adapt himselfto it, that his mind was full of dreams of ideal beauty andperfection, that his whole soul yearned to attain the highestpleasures of artistic creation. His was perpetually a deeply agitatedsoul; as such, it was natural he should outwardly seem irritable, impatient, restless, discontented, and solitary. It is impossible tobelieve that there was any strain of real evil in Poe. A man who couldinspire such devotion as he had from such a woman as Mrs. Clemm, a manwho loved flowers and children and animal pets, who could be sodevoted a husband, who could so consecrate himself to art, was not abad man. Yet his acts were often, as we have seen, mostreprehensible. Frequently the subject of slander, he was not a victimof conspiracy to defame. Although circumstances were many timesagainst him, he was his own worst enemy. He was cursed with atemperament. His mind was analytical and imaginative, and gave nothought to the ethical. He remained wayward as a child. The man, likehis art, was not immoral, but simply unmoral. Whatever his faults, hesuffered frightfully for them, and his fame suffered after him. 

LITERARY WORK

Poe's first literary ventures were in verse. The early volumes, showing strongly the influence of Byron and Moore, were productions ofsmall merit but large promise. Their author was soon to become one ofthe most original of poets, his later work being unique, with astrangely individual, "Poe" atmosphere that no other writer has everbeen able successfully to imitate. His verse is individual in theme, treatment, and structure, all of which harmonize with his conscioustheory of poetic art. His theory is briefly this: It is not thefunction of poetry to teach either truth or morals, but to gratifythrough novel forms "the thirst for supernal beauty"; its propereffect is to "excite, by elevating, the soul. " The highest beauty hasalways some admixture of sadness, the most poetical of all themesbeing the death of a beautiful woman. Moreover, the pleasure derivedfrom the contemplation of this higher beauty should be indefinite;that is, true poetic feeling is not the result of coherent narrativeor clear pictures or fine moral sentiment, but consists in vague, exalted emotion. Music, of all the arts, produces the vaguest and most"indefinite" pleasure; consequently verse forms should be chosen withthe greatest possible attention to musical effect. Poetry must bepurely a matter of feeling. "Its sole arbiter is Taste. With theIntellect or with the Conscience it has only collateral relations. "

This explanation is necessary, because the stock criticism of Poe'spoetry condemns it as vague, indefinite, and devoid of thought orethical content. These are precisely its limitations, but hardly itsfaults, since the poet attained with marvelous art the very effects hedesired. The themes of nearly all the poems are death, ruin, regret, or failure; the verse is original in form, and among the most musicalin the language, full of a haunting, almost magical melody. Mystery, symbolism, shadowy suggestion, fugitive thought, elusive beauty, beings that are mere insubstantial abstractions--these are thecharacteristics, but designedly so, of Poe's poetry. A poem to him wassimply a crystallized mood, and it is futile for his readers to applyany other test. Yet the influence of this verse has been wide andimportant, extending to most lyric poets of the last half-century, including such masters as Rossetti and Swinburne. 

"To Helen, " a poem of three brief stanzas, is Poe's first reallynotable production; it is an exquisite tribute of his reverentdevotion to his boyhood friend, Mrs. Stannard, portraying her as aclassic embodiment of beauty. "Israfel" is a lyric of aspiration ofrare power and rapture, worthy of Shelley, and is withal the mostspontaneous, simple, and genuinely human poem Poe ever wrote. "TheHaunted Palace, " one of the finest of his poems, is an unequaledallegory of the wreck and ruin of sovereign reason, which to be fullyappreciated should be read in its somber setting, "The Fall of theHouse of Usher. " Less attractive is "The Conqueror Worm, " with itsrepulsive imagery, but this "tragedy 'Man, '" with the universe as atheater, moving to the "music of the spheres, " and "horror the soul ofthe plot, " is undeniably powerful and intensely terrible. 

"The Raven, " published in 1845, attained immediately a world-widecelebrity, and rivals in fame and popularity any lyric ever written. It is the most elaborate treatment of Poe's favorite theme, the deathof a beautiful woman. The reveries of a bereaved lover, alone in hislibrary at midnight in "the bleak December, " vainly seeking to forgethis sorrow for the "lost Lenore, " are interrupted by a tapping, as ofsome one desirous to enter. After a time, he admits a "stately raven"and seeks to beguile his sad fancy by putting questions to the bird, whose one reply is "Nevermore, " and this constitutes the refrain ofthe poem. Impelled by an instinct of self-torture, the lover askswhether he shall have "respite" from the painful memories of "Lenore, "here or hereafter, and finally whether in the "distant Aidenn" he andhis love shall be reunited; to all of which the raven returns his oneanswer. Driven to frenzy, the lover implores the bird, "Take thy beakfrom out my heart, and take thy form from off my door, " only to learnthat the shadow will be lifted "nevermore. " The raven is, in thepoet's own words, "emblematical of Mournful and Never-EndingRemembrance. "

"Ulalume" has been commonly (though not always) regarded as a mereexperiment in verbal ingenuity, meaningless melody, or "the insanityof versification, " as a distinguished American critic has calledit. Such a judgment is a mark of inability to understand Poe's mostcharacteristic work, for in truth "Ulalume" is the extreme expressionat once of his critical theory and of his peculiar genius as apoet. It was published in December of the same year in which Virginiadied in January. The poet's condition has already been described;"Ulalume" is a marvelous expression of his mood at this time. Itdepicts a soul worn out by long suffering, groping for courage andhope, only to return again to "the door of a legended tomb. " It istrue the movement is slow, impeded by the frequent repetitions, but sothe wearied mind, after nervous exhaustion, is "palsied and sere. "There is no appeal to the intellect, but this is characteristic of Poeand appropriate to a mind numbed by protracted suffering. It is thismood of wearied, benumbed, discouraged, hopeless hope, feebly seekingfor the "Lethean peace of the skies" only to find the mind inevitablyreverting to the "lost Ulalume, " that finds expression. There is nodefinite thought, because only the communication of feeling isintended; there is no distinct setting, because the whole action isspiritual; "the dim lake" and "dark tarn of Auber, " "the ghoul-hauntedwoodland of Weir, " "the alley Titanic of cypress, " are thegrief-stricken and fear-haunted places of the poet's own darkenedmind, while the ashen skies of "the lonesome October" are significantenough of this "most immemorial year. " The poem is a monody ofnerveless, exhausted grief. As such it must be read to be appreciated, as such it must be judged, and so appreciated and so judged it isabsolutely unique and incomparable. 

About a year later came "The Bells, " wonderful for the music of itsverse, and the finest onomatopoetic poem in the language. Two daysafter Poe's death appeared "Annabel Lee, " a simple, sincere, andbeautiful ballad, a tribute to his dead wife. Last of all was printedthe brief "Eldorado, " a fitting death-song for Poe, in which a gallantknight sets out, "singing a song, " "in search of Eldorado, " only tolearn when youth and strength are gone that he must seek his goal"down the Valley of the Shadow. "

The tales, like the poems, are a real contribution to the world'sliterature, but more strikingly so, since the type itself isoriginal. Poe, Hawthorne, and Irving are distinctly the pioneers inthe production of the modern short story, and neither has beensurpassed on his own ground; but Poe has been vastly the greaterinfluence in foreign countries, especially in France. Poe formed a newconception of the short story, one which Professor Brander Matthews[1]has treated formally and explicitly as a distinct literary form, different from the story that is merely short. Without calling it adistinct form, Poe implied the idea in a review of Hawthorne's"Twice-Told Tales":

[Footnote 1: "The Philosophy of the Short-Story, " Chapter IV of "Penand Ink. "]

The ordinary novel is objectionable from its length. .. . As it cannotbe read at one sitting, it deprives itself, of course, of the immenseforce derivable from _totality_. .. . In the brief tale, however, the author is enabled to carry out the fulness of his intention, be itwhat it may. During the hour of perusal, the soul of the reader is atthe writer's control. .. . 

A skillful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has notfashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but havingconceived with deliberate care a certain unique or single_effect_ to be wrought out, he then invents such incidents--hethen combines such events as may best aid him in establishing thispreconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to theout-bringing of this effect, then he has failed in his first step. Inthe whole composition there should be no word written, of which thetendency, direct or indirect, is not to the one preestablished design. 

This idea of a short story should be kept in mind in reading Poe'sworks, for he applied his theory perfectly. 

The stories are of greater variety than the poems. There are romancesof death whose themes are fear, horror, madness, catalepsy, prematureburial, torture, mesmerism, and revengeful cruelty; tales of weirdbeauty; allegories of conscience; narratives of pseudo-science;stories of analytical reasoning; descriptions of beautiful landscapes;and what are usually termed "prose poems. " He also wrote talesgrotesque, humorous, and satirical, most of which are failures. Theearlier tales are predominantly imaginative and emotional; most of thelater ones are predominantly intellectual. None of the tales touchesordinary, healthy life; there is scarcely a suggestion of local color;the humor is nearly always mechanical; there is little conversationand the characters are never normal human beings. Although the storiesare strongly romantic in subject, plot, and setting, there is anextraordinary realism in treatment, a minuteness and accuracy ofdetail equaling the work of Defoe. This is one secret of the magicalart that not only transports us to the world of dream and vision wherethe author's own soul roamed, but for the time makes it all real tous. 

Poe's finest tale, as a work of art, is "The Fall of the House ofUsher, " which is as nearly perfect in its craftsmanship as human workmay be. It is a romance of death with a setting of profound gloom, andis wrought out as a highly imaginative study in fear--a symphony inwhich every touch blends into a perfect unity of effect. "Ligeia, "perhaps standing next, incorporating "The Conqueror Worm" as itskeynote, portrays the terrific struggle of a woman's will againstdeath. "The Masque of the Red Death, " a tale of the Spirit ofPestilence and of Death victorious over human selfishness and power, is a splendid study in somber color. "The Assignation, " a romance ofVenice, is also splendid in coloring and rich in decorative effects, presenting a luxury of sorrow culminating in romantic suicide. "William Wilson" is an allegory of conscience personified in a double, the forerunner of Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. " Otherconscience stories are "The Man of the Crowd"; "The Tell-Tale Heart, "also depicting insanity; and "The Black Cat, " of which the atmosphereis horror. "The Adventures of One Hans Pfaal" and "The Balloon Hoax"are examples of the pseudo-scientific tales, which attain theirverisimilitude by diverting attention from the improbability orimpossibility of the general incidents to the accuracy and naturalnessof details. In "The Descent into the Maelstrom, " scientific reasoningis skillfully blended with imaginative strength, poetic description, and stirring adventure. This type of story is clearly enough theoriginal of those of Jules Verne and similar writers. "The Murders inthe Rue Morgue" and "The Purloined Letter" are the pioneer detectivestories, Dupin the original Sherlock Holmes, and they remain the bestof their kind, unsurpassed in originality, ingenuity, andplausibility. Another type of the story of analytical reasoning is"The Gold-Bug, " built around the solution of a cryptogram, but alsointroducing an element of adventure. Poe's analytical power was real, not a trick. If he made Legrand solve the cryptogram and boast hisability to solve others more difficult, Poe himself solved scores senthim in response to a public magazine challenge; if Dupin solvedmysteries that Poe invented for him, Poe himself wrote in "MarieRoget, " from newspaper accounts, the solution of a real murdermystery, and astounded Dickens by outlining the entire plot of"Barnaby Rudge" when only a few of the first chapters had beenpublished; if he wrote imaginatively of science, he in factdemonstrated in "Maelzel's Chess Player" that a pretended automatonwas operated by a man. "Hop Frog" and "The Cask of Amontillado" areold-world stories of revenge. "The Island of the Fay" and "The Domainof Arnheim" are landscape studies, the one of calm loveliness, theother of Oriental profusion and coloring. "Shadow" and "Silence" arecommonly classed as "prose poems, " the former being one of Poe's mosteffective productions. "Eleonora, " besides having a story to tell, isboth a prose poem and a landscape study, and withal one of Poe's mostexquisite writings. 

Although Poe was not a great critic, his critical work is by no meansvalueless. He applied for the first time in America a thoroughgoingscrutiny and able, fearless criticism to contemporary literature, undoubtedly with good effect. His attacks on didacticism wereespecially valuable. His strength as a critic lay in his artistictemperament and in the incisive intellect that enabled him to analyzethe effects produced in his own creations and in those of others. Hisweaknesses were extravagance; a mania for harping on plagiarism; lackof spiritual insight, broad sympathies, and profound scholarship; and, in general, the narrow range of his genius, which has already beenmade sufficiently clear. His severity has been exaggerated, as heoften praised highly, probably erring more frequently by unduelaudation than by extreme severity. Though personal prejudicesometimes crept into his work, especially in favor of women, yet onthe whole he was as fair and fearless as he claimed to be. Much of thehasty, journalistic hack work is valueless, as might be expected, buthe wrote very suggestively of his art, and nearly all his judgmentshave been sustained. Moreover, he met one supreme test of a critic inrecognizing unknown genius: Dickens he was among the first to appraiseas a great novelist; Tennyson and Elizabeth Barrett (Browning) heranked among the great poets without hesitation; and at home he earlyexpressed a due appreciation of Hawthorne, Lowell, Longfellow, andBryant. 

Poe's place, both in prose and poetry, is assured. His recognitionabroad has been clear and emphatic from the first, especially inFrance, and to-day foreigners generally regard him as the greatestwriter we have produced, an opinion in which a number of our owncritics and readers concur. One's judgment in the matter will dependupon the point of view and the standards adopted; it is too large asubject to consider here, but if artistic craftsmanship be thestandard, certainly Hawthorne would be his only rival, and Hawthornewas not also a poet. The question of exact relative rank, however, itis neither possible nor important to settle. It is sufficient to say, in the words of Professor Woodberry, "On the roll of our literaturePoe's name is inscribed among the few foremost, and in the world atlarge his genius is established as valid among all men. "

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The year after Poe's death there appeared "The Works of the Late EdgarAllan Poe, " with a Memoir, in two volumes, edited by R. W. Griswoldand published by J. S. Redfield, New York. The same editor andpublisher brought out a four-volume edition in 1856. Griswold hadsuffered from Poe's sharp criticisms and had quarreled with him, though later there was a reconciliation, and Poe himself selectedGriswold to edit his works. The biographer painted the dead authorvery black indeed, and his account is now generally considered unfair. 

In 1874-1875 "The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, " with Memoir, edited byJohn H. Ingram, were published in four volumes, in Edinburgh, and in1876 in New York. Ingram represents the other extreme from Griswold, attempting to defend practically everything that Poe was and did. 

In 1884 A. C. Armstrong & Son, New York, brought out "The Works ofEdgar Allan Poe" in six volumes, with an Introduction and Memoir byRichard Henry Stoddard. Stoddard is far from doing justice to Poeeither as man or as author. 

Although Griswold's editing was poor, subsequent editions followed hisuntil 1895, when Professor George E. Woodberry and Mr. Edmund ClarenceStedman published a new edition in ten volumes through Stone &Kimball, Chicago (now published by Duffield & Company, New York). Thisedition is incomparably superior to all its predecessors, going to theoriginal sources, and establishing an authentic text, correctedslightly in quotations and punctuation. Professor Woodberrycontributed a Memoir, and Mr. Stedman admirable critical articles onthe poems and the tales. Scholarly notes, an extensive bibliography, anumber of portraits, and variorum readings of the poems, are included. 

In 1902 T. Y. Crowell & Company, New York, issued "The Complete Worksof Edgar Allan Poe" in seventeen volumes, edited by Professor JamesA. Harrison, including a biography and a volume of letters. Thisedition contains much of Poe's criticism not published in previouseditions, and follows Poe's latest text exactly; complete variorumreadings are included. 

In 1902 there also appeared "The Booklover's Arnheim" edition in tenvolumes, edited by Professor Charles F. Richardson and published byG. P. Putnam's Sons, New York. This is mechanically the finest editionof Poe's works. 

The one-volume collections of poems and of tales are almostinnumerable, but nearly all are devoid of merit and poorly edited inselection, text, and notes. (This does not refer to the smallcollections for study in schools. ) The best are the following: "Talesof Mystery, " Unit Book Publishing Company, New York (72 cents); "TheBest Tales of Edgar Allan Poe, " edited with critical studies bySherwin Cody, A. C. McClurg & Company, Chicago ($1. 00); "The Best Poemsand Essays of E. A. Poe, " edited with biographical and criticalintroduction by Sherwin Cody, McClurg ($1. 00); "Poems of E. A. Poe, "complete, edited and annotated by Charles W. Kent, The MacmillanCompany, New York (25 cents). 

Professor George E. Woodberry contributed in 1885 a volume on Poe tothe American Men of Letters Series (Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , Boston), which is the ablest yet written. In scholarship and criticalappreciation it is all that could be desired, but unfortunately it isunsympathetic. Mr. Woodberry assumed a coldly judicial attitude, inwhich mood he is occasionally a little less than just to Poe'scharacter. Professor Harrison's biography, written for the Virginiaedition, is published separately by T. Y. Crowell & Company. It is veryfull, and valuable for the mass of material supplied, but is notdiscriminating in criticism or estimate of Poe's character. 

Numerous magazine articles may be found by consulting the periodicalindexes. A number of suggestive short studies are to be found in thetext-books of American literature, such as those of Messrs. Trent, Abernethy, Newcomer, and Wendell; and in the larger books ofProfessors Richardson, Trent, and Wendell. One may also find acute andvaluable comment in such works as Professor Bliss Perry's "A Study ofProse Fiction, " and Professor Brander Matthews's "Philosophy of theShort-Story" (published separately, and in "Pen and Ink"). 

Many of Poe's tales and poems have been translated into practicallyall the important languages of modern Europe, including Greek. Animportant French study of Poe, recently published, is mentioned in thePreface. 

POEMS

SONG

I saw thee on thy bridal day, When a burning blush came o'er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, The world all love before thee;

And in thine eye a kindling light 5 (Whatever it might be)Was all on Earth my aching sight Of loveliness could see. 

That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame: As such it well may pass, 10Though its glow hath raised a fiercer flame In the breast of him, alas!

Who saw thee on that bridal day, When that deep blush _would_ come o'er thee, Though happiness around thee lay, 15 The world all love before thee. 

SPIRITS OF THE DEAD

Thy soul shall find itself alone'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone;Not one, of all the crowd, to pryInto thine hour of secrecy. 

Be silent in that solitude, 5 Which is not loneliness--for thenThe spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are againIn death around thee, and their willShall overshadow thee; be still. 10

The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall look not downFrom their high thrones in the HeavenWith light like hope to mortals given, But their red orbs, without beam, 15To thy weariness shall seemAs a burning and a feverWhich would cling to thee forever. 

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne'er to vanish; 20From thy spirit shall they passNo more, like dewdrops from the grass. 

The breeze, the breath of God, is still, And the mist upon the hillShadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, 25Is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries!

TO ----

I heed not that my earthly lot Hath little of Earth in it, That years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute:

I mourn not that the desolate 5 Are happier, sweet, than I, But that you sorrow for my fate Who am a passer-by. 

ROMANCE

Romance, who loves to nod and singWith drowsy head and folded wingAmong the green leaves as they shakeFar down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet 5Hath been--a most familiar bird--Taught me my alphabet to say, To lisp my very earliest wordWhile in the wild-wood I did lie, A child--with a most knowing eye. 10

Of late, eternal condor yearsSo shake the very heaven on highWith tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle caresThrough gazing on the unquiet sky; 15And when an hour with calmer wingsIts down upon my spirit flings, That little time with lyre and rhymeTo while away--forbidden things--My heart would feel to be a crime 20Unless it trembled with the strings. 

TO THE RIVER

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow Of crystal, wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow Of beauty--the unhidden heart, The playful maziness of art 5 In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks, Which glistens then, and trembles, Why, then, the prettiest of brooks Her worshipper resembles; 10For in his heart, as in thy stream, Her image deeply lies--His heart which trembles at the beam Of her soul-searching eyes. 

TO SCIENCE

A PROLOGUE TO "AL AARAAF"

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art, Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, 5 Who wouldst not leave him in his wanderingTo seek for treasure in the jewelled skies, Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car, And driven the Hamadryad from the wood 10To seek a shelter in some happier star? Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from meThe summer dream beneath the tamarind-tree?

TO HELEN

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicaean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, wayworn wanderer bore To his own native shore. 5

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. 10

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! 15

ISRAFEL

And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures. --KORAN

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell Whose heart-strings are a lute;None sing so wildly wellAs the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell), 5Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute. 

Tottering above In her highest noon, The enamoured moon 10Blushes with love, While, to listen, the red levin (With the rapid Pleiads, even, Which were seven) Pauses in Heaven. 15

And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things)That Israfeli's fireIs owing to that lyre By which he sits and sings, 20The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings. 

But the skies that angel trod, Where deep thoughts are a duty, Where Love's a grown-up God, 25 Where the Houri glances areImbued with all the beauty Which we worship in a star. 

Therefore thou art not wrong, Israfeli, who despisest 30An unimpassioned song;To thee the laurels belong, Best bard, because the wisest:Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above 35 With thy burning measures suit:Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love, With the fervor of thy lute: Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this 40 Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merely--flowers, And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. 

If I could dwell 45Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than this might swell 50 From my lyre within the sky. 

THE CITY IN THE SEA

Lo! Death has reared himself a throneIn a strange city lying aloneFar down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the bestHave gone to their eternal rest. 5There shrines and palaces and towers(Time-eaten towers that tremble not)Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, Resignedly beneath the sky 10The melancholy waters lie. 

No rays from the holy heaven come downOn the long night-time of that town;But light from out the lurid seaStreams up the turrets silently, 15Gleams up the pinnacles far and free:Up domes, up spires, up kingly halls, Up fanes, up Babylon-like walls, Up shadowy long-forgotten bowersOf sculptured ivy and stone flowers, 20Up many and many a marvellous shrineWhose wreathed friezes intertwineThe viol, the violet, and the vine. Resignedly beneath the skyThe melancholy waters lie. 25So blend the turrets and shadows thereThat all seem pendulous in air, While from a proud tower in the townDeath looks gigantically down. 

There open fanes and gaping graves 30Yawn level with the luminous waves;But not the riches there that lieIn each idol's diamond eye, --Not the gaily-jewelled dead, Tempt the waters from their bed; 35For no ripples curl, alas, Along that wilderness of glass;No swellings tell that winds may beUpon some far-off happier sea;No heavings hint that winds have been 40On seas less hideously serene!

But lo, a stir is in the air!The wave--there is a movement there!As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide; 45As if their tops had feebly givenA void within the filmy Heaven!The waves have now a redder glow, The hours are breathing faint and low;And when, amid no earthly moans, 50Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence. 

THE SLEEPER

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, 5Upon the quiet mountain-top, Steals drowsily and musicallyInto the universal valley. The rosemary nods upon the grave;The lily lolls upon the wave; 10Wrapping the fog about its breast, The ruin moulders into rest;Looking like Lethe, see! the lakeA conscious slumber seems to take, And would not, for the world, awake. 15All beauty sleeps!--and lo! where liesIrene, with her destinies!

Oh lady bright! can it be right, This window open to the night?The wanton airs, from the tree-top, 20Laughingly through the lattice drop;The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopySo fitfully, so fearfully, 25Above the closed and fringed lid'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid, That, o'er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall. Oh lady dear, hast thou no fear? 30Why and what art thou dreaming here?Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas, A wonder to these garden trees!Strange is thy pallor: strange thy dress:Strange, above all, thy length of tress, 35And this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps. Oh, may her sleep, Which is enduring, so be deep!Heaven have her in its sacred keep!This chamber changed for one more holy, 40This bed for one more melancholy, I pray to God that she may lieForever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps. Oh, may her sleep, 45As it is lasting, so be deep!Soft may the worms about her creep!Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold:Some vault that oft hath flung its black 50And winged pannels fluttering back, Triumphant, o'er the crested pallsOf her grand family funerals:Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, 55In childhood, many an idle stone:Some tomb from out whose sounding doorShe ne'er shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin, It was the dead who groaned within! 60

LENORE

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown foreverLet the bell toll!--a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;And, Guy De Vere, hast _thou_ no tear?--weep now or never more!See, on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!Come, let the burial rite be read--the funeral song be sung, 5An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young, A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young. 

"Wretches, ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her--that she died!How _shall_ the ritual, then, be read? the requiem how be sung 10By you--by yours, the evil eye, --by yours, the slanderous tongueThat did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"

_Peccanimus_; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath songGo up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong. The sweet Lenore hath gone before, with Hope that flew beside, 15Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride:For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes;The life still there, upon her hair--the death upon her eyes. 

"Avaunt! avaunt! from friends below, the indignant ghost is riven-- 20From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven--From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven!Let no bell toll, then, --lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth!And I!--to-night my heart is light!--No dirge will I upraise, 25But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean of old days. "

THE VALLEY OF UNREST

Once it smiled a silent dellWhere the people did not dwell;They had gone unto the wars, Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, Nightly, from their azure towers, 5To keep watch above the flowers, In the midst of which all dayThe red sunlight lazily lay. Now each visitor shall confessThe sad valley's restlessness. 10Nothing there is motionless, Nothing save the airs that broodOver the magic solitude. Ah, by no wind are stirred those treesThat palpitate like the chill seas 15Around the misty Hebrides!Ah, by no wind those clouds are drivenThat rustle through the unquiet HeavenUneasily, from morn till even, Over the violets there that lie 20In myriad types of the human eye, Over the lilies there that waveAnd weep above a nameless grave!They wave:--from out their fragrant topsEternal dews come down in drops. 25They weep:--from off their delicate stemsPerennial, tears descend in gems. 

THE COLISEUM

Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquaryOf lofty contemplation left to TimeBy buried centuries of pomp and power!At length--at length--after so many daysOf weary pilgrimage and burning thirst 5(Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie), I kneel, an altered and an humble man, Amid thy shadows, and so drink withinMy very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and glory. 

Vastness, and Age, and Memories of Eld! 10Silence, and Desolation, and dim Night!I feel ye now, I feel ye in your strength, O spells more sure than e'er Judaean kingTaught in the gardens of Gethsemane!O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee 15Ever drew down from out the quiet stars!

Here, where a hero fell, a column falls!Here, where the mimic eagle glared in gold, A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat;Here, where the dames of Rome their gilded hair 20Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle;Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled, Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home, Lit by the wan light of the horned moon, The swift and silent lizard of the stones. 25

But stay! these walls, these ivy-clad arcades, These mouldering plinths, these sad and blackened shafts, These vague entablatures, this crumbling frieze, These shattered cornices, this wreck, this ruin, These stones--alas! these gray stones--are they all, 30All of the famed and the colossal leftBy the corrosive Hours to Fate and me?

"Not all"--the Echoes answer me--"not all!Prophetic sounds and loud arise foreverFrom us, and from all Ruin, unto the wise, 35As melody from Memnon to the Sun. We rule the hearts of mightiest men--we ruleWith a despotic sway all giant minds. We are not impotent, we pallid stones:Not all our power is gone, not all our fame, 40Not all the magic of our high renown, Not all the wonder that encircles us, Not all the mysteries that in us lie, Not all the memories that hang uponAnd cling around about us as a garment, 45Clothing us in a robe of more than glory. "

HYMN

At morn--at noon--at twilight dim, Maria! thou hast heard my hymn. In joy and woe, in good and ill, Mother of God, be with me still!When the hours flew brightly by, 5And not a cloud obscured the sky, My soul, lest it should truant be, Thy grace did guide to thine and thee. Now, when storms of fate o'ercastDarkly my Present and my Past, 10Let my Future radiant shineWith sweet hopes of thee and thine!

TO ONE IN PARADISE

Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine:A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrineAll wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, 5 And all the flowers were mine. 

Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope, that didst ariseBut to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, 10"On! on!"--but o'er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering liesMute, motionless, aghast. 

For, alas! alas! with me The light of Life is o'er! 15 No more--no more--no more--(Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore)Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar. 20

And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreamsAre where thy gray eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams--In what ethereal dances, 25 By what eternal streams. 

TO F----

Beloved! amid the earnest woes That crowd around my earthly path(Drear path, alas! where growsNot even one lonely rose), My soul at least a solace hath 5In dreams of thee, and therein knowsAn Eden of bland repose. 

And thus thy memory is to me Like some enchanted far-off isleIn some tumultuous sea, -- 10Some ocean throbbing far and free With storms, but where meanwhileSerenest skies continually Just o'er that one bright island smile. 

TO F----S S. O----D

Thou wouldst be loved?--then let thy heart From its present pathway part not:Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways, 5 Thy grace, thy more than beauty, Shall be an endless theme of praise, And love--a simple duty. 

TO ZANTE

Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take, How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake!How many scenes of what departed bliss, 5 How many thoughts of what entombed hopes, How many visions of a maiden that is No more--no more upon thy verdant slopes!_No more!_ alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no more, 10Thy memory no more. Accursed ground! Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"

BRIDAL BALLAD

The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow;Satins and jewels grandAre all at my command, And I am happy now. 5

And my lord he loves me well; But, when first he breathed his vow, I felt my bosom swell, For the words rang as a knell, And the voice seemed his who fell 10In the battle down the dell, And who is happy now. 

But he spoke to reassure me, And he kissed my pallid brow, While a reverie came o'er me, 15And to the church-yard bore me, And I sighed to him before me, Thinking him dead D'Elormie, "Oh, I am happy now!"

And thus the words were spoken, 20 And this the plighted vow;And though my faith be broken, And though my heart be broken, Here is a ring, as token That I am happy now! 25

Would God I could awaken! For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shakenLest an evil step be taken, Lest the dead who is forsaken 30 May not be happy now. 

SILENCE

There are some qualities, some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is madeA type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is a twofold Silence--sea and shore, 5 Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore, Render him terrorless: his name's "No More. "He is the corporate Silence: dread him not: 10 No power hath he of evil in himself;But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!) Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf, That haunteth the lone regions where hath trodNo foot of man), commend thyself to God! 15

THE CONQUEROR WORM

Lo! 't is a gala night Within the lonesome latter years. An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre to see 5 A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres. 

Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, 10

And hither and thither fly; Mere puppets they, who come and goAt bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their condor wings 15 Invisible Woe. 

That motley drama--oh, be sure It shall not be forgot!With its Phantom chased for evermore By a crowd that seize it not, 20Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot;And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. 

But see amid the mimic rout 25 A crawling shape, intrude:A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude!It writhes--it writhes!--with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, 30And seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. 

Out--out are the lights--out all! And over each quivering formThe curtain, a funeral pall, 35 Comes down with the rush of a storm, While the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirmThat the play is the tragedy, "Man, " And its hero, the Conqueror Worm. 40

DREAM-LAND

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named Night, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly 5From an ultimate dim Thule:From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of Space--out of Time. Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms and caves and Titan woods, 10With forms that no man can discoverFor the tears that drip all over;Mountains toppling evermoreInto seas without a shore;Seas that restlessly aspire, 15Surging, unto skies of fire;Lakes that endlessly outspreadTheir lone waters, lone and dead, --Their still waters, still and chillyWith the snows of the lolling lily. 20

By the lakes that thus outspreadTheir lone waters, lone and dead, --Their sad waters, sad and chillyWith the snows of the lolling lily;By the mountains--near the river 25Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever;By the gray woods, by the swampWhere the toad and the newt encamp;By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls; 30By each spot the most unholy, In each nook most melancholy, --There the traveller meets aghastSheeted Memories of the Past:Shrouded forms that start and sigh 35As they pass the wanderer by, White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth--and Heaven. 

For the heart whose woes are legion'T is a peaceful, soothing region; 40For the spirit that walks in shadow'T is--oh, 't is an Eldorado!But the traveller, travelling through it, May not--dare not openly view it;Never its mysteries are exposed 45To the weak human eye unclosed;So wills its King, who hath forbidThe uplifting of the fringed lid;And thus the sad Soul that here passesBeholds it but through darkened glasses. 50By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named Night, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly 55From this ultimate dim Thule. 

THE RAVEN

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of, forgotten lore, --While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor, " I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door: 5 Only this and nothing more. "

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore, 10For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here forevermore. 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 15"'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more. "

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir, " said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 20But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door:-- Darkness there and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 25Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore:" Merely this and nothing more. 30

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely, " said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore;Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore: 35 'T is the wind and nothing more. "

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, 40Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door: Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smilingBy the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, --"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, " I said, "art sure no craven, 45Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore:Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore. "

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore; 50For we cannot help agreeing that no living human beingEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore. "

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 55That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered, Till I scarcely more than muttered, --"Other friends have flown before;On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before. " Then the bird said, "Nevermore. " 60

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless, " said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful DisasterFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden boreTill the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 65 Of 'Never--nevermore. '"

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, 70What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore. "

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 75On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er _She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 80"Wretch, " I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent theeRespite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore. "

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! 85Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore. " 90

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore:Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore. " 95 Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore. "

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting:"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! 100Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore. "

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 105And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor:And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted--nevermore. 

EULALIE

I dwelt aloneIn a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride, Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride. 5

Ah, less--less brightThe stars of the nightThan the eyes of the radiant girl!And never a flakeThat the vapor can make 10With the moon-tints of purple and pearlCan vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl, Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl. 

Now doubt--now painCome never again, 15For her soul gives me sigh for sigh;And all day longShines, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky, While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye, 20While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye. 

TO M. L. S--

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning;Of all to whom thine absence is the night, The blotting utterly from out high heavenThe sacred sun; of all who, weeping, bless theeHourly for hope, for life, ah! above all, 5For the resurrection of deep-buried faithIn truth, in virtue, in humanity;Of all who, on despair's unhallowed bedLying down to die, have suddenly arisenAt thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!" 10At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilledIn the seraphic glancing of thine eyes;Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitudeNearest resembles worship, oh, rememberThe truest, the most fervently devoted, 15And think that these weak lines are written by him:By him, who, as he pens them, thrills to thinkHis spirit is communing with an angel's. 

ULALUME

The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere, The leaves they were withering and sere;It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year; 5It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir:It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. 

Here once, through an alley Titanic 10 Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-- Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul. These were days when my heart was volcanic As the scoriac rivers that roll, As the lavas that restlessly roll 15Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek In the ultimate climes of the pole, That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek In the realms of the boreal pole. 

Our talk had been serious and sober, 20 But our thoughts they were palsied and sere, Our memories were treacherous and sere, For we knew not the month was October, And we marked not the night of the year, (Ah, night of all nights in the year!) 25We noted not the dim lake of Auber (Though once we had journeyed down here), Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. 

And now, as the night was senescent 30 And star-dials pointed to morn, As the star-dials hinted of morn, At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent 35 Arose with a duplicate horn, Astarte's bediamonded crescent Distinct with its duplicate horn. 

And I said--"She is warmer than Dian: She rolls through an ether of sighs, 40 She revels in a region of sighs:She has seen that the tears are not dry on These cheeks, where the worm never dies, And has come past the stars of the Lion To point us the path to the skies, 45 To the Lethean peace of the skies:Come up, in despite of the Lion, To shine on us with her bright eyes:Come up through the lair of the Lion, With love in her luminous eyes. " 50

But Psyche, uplifting her finger, Said--"Sadly this star I mistrust: Her pallor I strangely mistrust:Oh, hasten!--oh, let us not linger! Oh, fly!--let us fly!--for we must. " 55In terror she spoke, letting sink her Wings until they trailed in the dust;In agony sobbed, letting sink her Plumes till they trailed in the dust, Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust. 60

I replied--"This is nothing but dreaming: Let us on by this tremulous light! Let us bathe in this crystalline light!Its sibyllic splendor is beaming With hope and in beauty to-night: 65 See, it flickers up the sky through the night!Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming, And be sure it will lead us aright:We safely may trust to a gleaming That cannot but guide us aright, 70 Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night. "

Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom, And conquered her scruples and gloom;And we passed to the end of the vista, 75 But were stopped by the door of a tomb, By the door of a legended tomb;And I said--"What is written, sweet sister, On the door of this legended tomb?" She replied--"Ulalume--Ulalume-- 80 'T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crisped and sere, As the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried--"It was surely October 85 On this very night of last year That I journeyed--I journeyed down here, That I brought a dread burden down here: On this night of all nights in the year, Ah, what demon has tempted me here? 90Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber, This misty mid region of Weir:Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber, This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. "

TO ----

Not long ago the writer of these lines, In the mad pride of intellectuality, Maintained "the power of words"--denied that everA thought arose within the human brainBeyond the utterance of the human tongue: 5And now, as if in mockery of that boast, Two words, two foreign soft dissyllables, Italian tones, made only to be murmuredBy angels dreaming in the moonlit "dewThat hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill, " 10Have stirred from out the abysses of his heartUnthought-like thoughts, that are the souls of thought, --Richer, far wilder, far diviner visionsThan even the seraph harper, Israfel(Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures"), 15Could hope to utter. And I--my spells are broken;The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand;With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee, I cannot write--I cannot speak or think--Alas, I cannot feel; for't is not feeling, -- 20This standing motionless upon the goldenThreshold of the wide-open gate of dreams, Gazing entranced adown the gorgeous vista, And thrilling as I see, upon the right, Upon the left, and all the way along, 25Amid empurpled vapors, far awayTo where the prospect terminates--thee only. 

AN ENIGMA

"Seldom we find, " says Solomon Don Dunce, "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet-- Trash of all trash! how can a lady don it? 5Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff, Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it. "And, veritably, Sol is right enough. The general tuckermanities are arrant 10Bubbles, ephemeral and _so_ transparent; But _this_ is, now, you may depend upon it, Stable, opaque, immortal--all by dintOf the dear names that lie concealed within 't. 

TO HELEN. 

I saw thee once--once only--years ago:I must not say how many--but not many. It was a July midnight; and from outA full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaringSought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, 5There fell a silvery-silken veil of light, With quietude and sultriness and slumber, Upon the upturned faces of a thousandRoses that grew in an enchanted garden, Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe: 10Fell on the upturned faces of these rosesThat gave out, in return for the love-light, Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death:Fell on the upturned faces of these rosesThat smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted 15By thee, and by the poetry of thy presence. 

Clad all in white, upon a violet bankI saw thee half reclining; while the moonFell on the upturned faces of the roses, And on thine own, upturned--alas, in sorrow! 20

Was it not Fate, that, on this July midnight--Was it not Fate (whose name is also Sorrow)That bade me pause before that garden-gateTo breathe the incense of those slumbering roses?No footsteps stirred: the hated world all slept, 25Save only thee and me--O Heaven! O God!How my heart beats in coupling those two words!--Save only thee and me. I paused, I looked, And in an instant all things disappeared. (Ah, bear in mind this garden was enchanted!) 30The pearly lustre of the moon went out:

The mossy banks and the meandering paths, The happy flowers and the repining trees, Were seen no more: the very roses' odorsDied in the arms of the adoring airs. 35All, all expired save thee--save less than thou:Save only the divine light in thine eyes, Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes:I saw but them--they were the world to me:I saw but them, saw only them for hours, 40Saw only them until the moon went down. What wild heart-histories seem to lie enwrittenUpon those crystalline, celestial spheres;How dark a woe, yet how sublime a hope;How silently serene a sea of pride; 45How daring an ambition; yet how deep, How fathomless a capacity for love!

But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight, Into a western couch of thunder-cloud;And thou, a ghost, amid the entombing trees 50Didst glide away. Only thine eyes remained:They would not go--they never yet have gone;Lighting my lonely pathway home that night, They have not left me (as my hopes have) since;They follow me--they lead me through the years; 55They are my ministers--yet I their slave;Their office is to illumine and enkindle--My duty, to be saved by their bright light, And purified in their electric fire, And sanctified in their elysian fire, 60They fill my soul with beauty (which is hope), And are, far up in heaven, the stars I kneel toIn the sad, silent watches of my night;While even in the meridian glare of dayI see them still--two sweetly scintillant 65Venuses, unextinguished by the sun. 

A VALENTINE

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes, Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda, Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader. Search narrowly the lines! they hold a treasure 5 Divine, a talisman, an amuletThat must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-- The word--the syllables. Do not forgetThe trivialest point, or you may lose your labor: And yet there is in this no Gordian knot 10Which one might not undo without a sabre, If one could merely comprehend the plot. Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering Eyes scintillating soul, there lie _perdus_Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing 15 Of poets, by poets--as the name is a poet's, too. Its letters, although naturally lying Like the knight Pinto, Mendez Ferdinando, Still form a synonym for Truth. --Cease trying! You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do. 20

FOR ANNIE

Thank Heaven! the crisis, The danger, is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last, And the fever called "Living" 5 Is conquered at last. 

Sadly I know I am shorn of my strength, And no muscle I move As I lie at full length: 10But no matter!--I feel I am better at length. 

And I rest so composedly Now, in my bed, That any beholder 15 Might fancy me dead, Might start at beholding me, Thinking me dead. 

The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, 20Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbingAt heart:--ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing!

The sickness, the nausea, 25 The pitiless pain, Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain, With the fever called "Living" That burned in my brain. 30

And oh! of all tortures, That torture the worstHas abated--the terrible Torture of thirstFor the naphthaline river 35 Of Passion accurst:I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst:

Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, 40From a spring but a very few Feet under ground, From a cavern not very far Down under ground. 

And ah! let it never 45 Be foolishly saidThat my room it is gloomy, And narrow my bed;For man never slept In a different bed: 50And, _to sleep_, you must slumber In just such a bed. 

My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never 55 Regretting, its roses:Its old agitations Of myrtles and roses;

For now, while so quietly Lying, it fancies 60A holier odor About it, of pansies:A rosemary odor, Commingled with pansies, With rue and the beautiful 65 Puritan pansies. 

And so it lies happily, Bathing in manyA dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie, 70Drowned in a bath Of the tresses of Annie. 

She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently 75 To sleep on her breast, Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast. 

When the light was extinguished, She covered me warm, 80And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm, To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm. 

And I lie so composedly 85 Now, in my bed, (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead;And I rest so contentedly Now, in my bed, 90(With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead, That you shudder to look at me, Thinking me dead. 

But my heart it is brighter 95 Than all of the manyStars in the sky, For it sparkles with Annie:It glows with the light Of the love of my Annie, 100With the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie. 

THE BELLS

I

Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells!What a world of merriment their melody foretells!How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! 5While the stars, that oversprinkleAll the heavens, seem to twinkleWith a crystalline deligit;Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, 10To the tintinnabulation that so musically wellsFrom the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells--From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells, 15Golden bells!What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!Through the balmy air of nightHow they ring out their delight!From the molten-golden notes, 20And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floatsTo the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloatsOn the moon!Oh, from out the sounding cells, 25What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!How it swells!How it dwellsOn the Future! how it tellsOf the rapture that impels 30To the swinging and the ringingOf the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells--To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 35

III

Hear the loud alarum bells, Brazen bells!What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!In the startled ear of nightHow they scream out their affright! 40Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 45Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavorNow--now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. 50Oh, the bells, bells, bells!What a tale their terror tellsOf Despair!How they clang, and clash, and roar!What a horror they outpour 55On the bosom of the palpitating air!Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twangingAnd the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; 60Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the janglingAnd the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, --By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, 65Of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells--In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells, 70Iron bells!What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!In the silence of the nightHow we shiver with affrightAt the melancholy menace of their tone! 75For every sound that floatsFrom the rust within their throatsIs a groan. And the people--ah, the people, They that dwell up in the steeple, 80All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tollingIn that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rollingOn the human heart a stone-- 85They are neither man nor woman, They are neither brute nor human, They are Ghouls:And their king it is who tolls;And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 90RollsA paean from the bells;And his merry bosom swellsWith the paean of the bells, And he dances, and he yells: 95Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells, Of the bells:Keeping time, time, time, 100In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells-- To the sobbing of the bells;Keeping time, time, time, 105 As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells, 110Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells--To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

ANNABEL LEE

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee;And this maiden she lived with no other thought 5 Than to love and be loved by me. 

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; 10With 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 15 My beautiful Annabel Lee;So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. 20

The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me;Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 25 Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we;And neither the angels in heaven above, 30 Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 35And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the sideOf my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea, 40 In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

TO MY MOTHER

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find among their burning terms of love-- None so devotional as that of "Mother, "Therefore by that dear name I long have called you-- 5 You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts where Death installed you In setting my Virginia's spirit free. My mother, my own mother, who died early, Was but the mother of myself; but you 10Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knewBy that infinity with which my wifeWas dearer to my soul than its soul-life. 

ELDORADO

Gayly bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, 5In search of Eldorado. 

But he grew old, This knight so bold, And o'er his heart a shadowFell as he found 10No spot of groundThat looked like Eldorado. 

And, as his strengthFailed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow: 15"Shadow, " said he, "Where can it be, This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the MountainsOf the Moon, 20Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride, "The shade replied, "If you seek for Eldorado!"

TALES

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER

 Son coeur est un luth suspendu; Sitot qu'on le touche il resonne. Beranger

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn ofthe year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I hadbeen passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract ofcountry; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drewon, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how itwas--but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense ofinsufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for thefeeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, becausepoetic, sentiment with which the mind usually receives even thesternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked uponthe scene before me--upon the mere house, and the simple landscapefeatures of the domain, upon the bleak walls, upon the vacant eye-likewindows, upon a few rank sedges, and upon a few white trunks ofdecayed trees--with an utter depression of soul which I can compare tono earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of thereveller upon opium: the bitter lapse into everyday life, the hideousdropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, asickening of the heart, an unredeemed dreariness of thought which nogoading of the imagination could torture into aught of thesublime. What was it--I paused to think--what was it that so unnervedme in the contemplation of the House of Usher? It was a mystery allinsoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowdedupon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon theunsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there _are_combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power ofthus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies amongconsiderations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that amere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of thedetails of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps toannihilate, its capacity for sorrowful impression; and acting uponthis idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black andlurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazeddown--but with a shudder even more thrilling than before--upon theremodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastlytree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows. 

Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself asojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one ofmy boon companions in boyhood; but many years had elapsed since ourlast meeting. A letter, however, had lately reached me in a distantpart of the country--a letter from him--which in its wildlyinportunate nature had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. Gave evidence of nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acutebodily illness, of a mental disorder which oppressed him, and of anearnest desire to see me, as his best and indeed his only personalfriend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said--it was the apparent _heart_ that wentwith his request--which allowed me no room for hesitation; and Iaccordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very singularsummons. 

Although as boys we had been even intimate associates, yet I reallyknew little of my friend. His reserve had been always excessive andhabitual. I was aware, however, that his very ancient family had beennoted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested of late in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusivecharity, as well as in a passionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easily recognizablebeauties, of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkablefact that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honored as it was, hadput forth at no period any enduring branch; in other words, that theentire family lay in the direct line of descent, and had always, withvery trifling and very temporary variation, so lain. It was thisdeficiency, I considered, while running over in thought the perfectkeeping of the character of the premises with the accredited characterof the people, and while speculating upon the possible influence whichthe one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have exercised upon theother--it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue, and theconsequent undeviating transmission from sire to son of the patrimonywith the name, which had, at length, so identified the two as to mergethe original title of the estate in the quaint and equivocalappellation of the "House of Usher"--an appellation which seemed toinclude, in the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the familyand the family mansion. 

I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment, that of looking down within the tarn, had been to deepen the firstsingular impression. There can be no doubt that the consciousness ofthe rapid increase of my superstition--for why should I not so termit?--served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I havelong known, is the paradoxical law of all sentiments having terror asa basis. And it might have been for this reason only, that, when Iagain uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in thepool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy--a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the vivid force of thesensations which oppressed me. I had so worked upon my imagination asreally to believe that about the whole mansion and domain there hungan atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity: anatmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which hadreeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silenttarn: a pestilent and mystic vapor, dull, sluggish, faintlydiscernible, and leaden-hued. 

Shaking off from my spirit what _must_ have been a dream, Iscanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principalfeature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity. Thediscoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread thewhole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yetall this was apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion ofthe masonry had fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistencybetween its still perfect adaptation of parts and the crumblingcondition of the individual stones. In this there was much thatreminded one of the specious totality of old wood-work which hasrotted for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbancefrom the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication ofextensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token ofinstability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might havediscovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from theroof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzagdirection, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn. 

Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. Aservant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway ofthe hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progress to the studioof his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I knownot how, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have alreadyspoken. While the objects around me--while the carvings of theceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness ofthe floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled asI strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had beenaccustomed from my infancy--while I hesitated not to acknowledge howfamiliar was all this--I still wondered to find how unfamiliar werethe fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one of thestaircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, Ithought, wore a mingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. Heaccosted me with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw opena door and ushered me into the presence of his master. 

The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. Thewindows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance fromthe black oaken floor as to be altogether inaccessible fromwithin. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through thetrellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the moreprominent objects around; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reachthe remoter angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted andfretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The generalfurniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many booksand musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give anyvitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere ofsorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung over andpervaded all. 

Upon my entrance, Usher arose from a sofa on which he had been lyingat full length, and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had muchin it, I at first thought, of an overdone cordiality--of theconstrained effort of the _ennuye_ man of the world. A glance, however, at his countenance, convinced me of his perfect sincerity. Wesat down; and for some moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon himwith a feeling half of pity, half of awe. Surely man had never beforeso terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher! Itwas with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity ofthe wan being before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yetthe character of his face had been at all times remarkable. Acadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid, and luminousbeyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of asurpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, butwith a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a finelymoulded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moralenergy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity; thesefeatures, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of thetemple, made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. 

And now in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of thesefeatures, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay so muchof change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor ofthe skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all thingsstartled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered togrow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floatedrather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect its arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity. 

In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence, an inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series offeeble and futile struggles to overcome an habitual trepidancy, anexcessive nervous agitation. For something of this nature I had indeedbeen prepared, no less by his letter than by reminiscences of certainboyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physicalconformation and temperament. His action was alternately vivacious andsullen. His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision (when theanimal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that species ofenergetic concision--that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, andhollow-sounding enunciation--that leaden, self-balanced and perfectlymodulated guttural utterance--which may be observed in the lostdrunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of opium, during the periods ofhis most intense excitement. 

It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnestdesire to see me, and of the solace he expected me to afford him. Heentered, at some length, into what he conceived to be the nature ofhis malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, andone for which he despaired to find a remedy--a mere nervous affection, he immediately added, which would undoubtedly soon pass off. Itdisplayed itself in a host of unnatural sensations. Some of these, ashe detailed them, interested and bewildered me; although, perhaps, theterms and the general manner of the narration had their weight. Hesuffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipidfood was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certaintexture; the odors of all flowers were oppressive; his eyes weretortured by even a faint light; and there were but peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him withhorror. 

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

I learned moreover at intervals, and through broken and equivocalhints, another singular feature of his mental condition. He wasenchained by certain superstitious impressions in regard to thedwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, he had neverventured forth--in regard to an influence whose supposititious forcewas conveyed in terms too shadowy here to be re-stated--an influencewhich some peculiarities in the mere form and substance of his familymansion, had, by dint of long sufferance, he said, obtained over hisspirit--an effect which the physique of the gray walls and turrets, and of the dim tarn into which they all looked down, had, at length, brought about upon the morale of his existence. 

He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of thepeculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a morenatural and far more palpable origin--to the severe and long-continuedillness, indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution, of atenderly beloved sister--his sole companion for long years, his lastand only relative on earth. "Her decease, " he said, with a bitternesswhich I can never forget, "would leave him (him the hopeless and thefrail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers. " While he spoke, the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through aremote portion of the apartment, and, without having noticed mypresence, disappeared. I regarded her with an utter astonishment notunmingled with dread, and yet I found it impossible to account forsuch feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me, as my eyes followedher retreating steps. When a door, at length, closed upon her, myglance sought instinctively and eagerly the countenance of thebrother; but he had buried his face in his hands, and I could onlyperceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had overspread theemaciated fingers through which trickled many passionate tears. 

The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of herphysicians. A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transient affections of a partially catalepticalcharacter, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she had steadilyborne up against the pressure of her malady, and had not betakenherself finally to bed; but, on the closing in of the evening of myarrival at the house, she succumbed (as her brother told me at nightwith inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of thedestroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I had obtained of her personwould thus probably be the last I should obtain--that the lady, atleast while living, would be seen by me no more. 

For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher ormyself; and during this period I was busied in earnest endeavors toalleviate the melancholy of my friend. We painted and read together;or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wild improvisations of hisspeaking guitar. And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacyadmitted me more unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, themore bitterly did I perceive the futility of all attempt at cheering amind from which darkness, as if an inherent positive quality, pouredforth upon all objects of the moral and physical universe, in oneunceasing radiation of gloom. 

I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours I thusspent alone with the master of the House of Usher. Yet I should failin any attempt to convey an idea of the exact character of thestudies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me, or led me theway. An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureouslustre over all. His long improvised dirges will ring forever in myears. Among other things, I hold painfully in mind a certain singularperversion and amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of VonWeber. From the paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded, andwhich grew, touch by touch, into vaguenesses at which I shuddered themore thrillingly because I shuddered knowing not why;--from thesepaintings (vivid as their images now are before me) I would in vainendeavor to educe more than a small portion which should lie withinthe compass of merely written words. By the utter simplicity, by thenakedness of his designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If evermortal painted an idea, that mortal was Roderick Usher. For me atleast, in the circumstances then surrounding me, there arose, out ofthe pure abstractions which the hypochondriac contrived to throw uponhis canvas, an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which felt Iever yet in the contemplation of the certainly glowing yet tooconcrete reveries of Fuseli. 

One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not sorigidly of the spirit of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, althoughfeebly, in words. A small picture presented the interior of animmensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, with low walls, smooth, white, and without interruption or device. Certain accessorypoints of the design served well to convey the idea that thisexcavation lay at an exceeding depth below the surface of theearth. No outlet was observed in any portion of its vast extent, andno torch or other artificial source of light was discernible; yet aflood of intense rays rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in aghastly and inappropriate splendor. 

I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory nervewhich rendered all music intolerable to the sufferer, with theexception of certain effects of stringed instruments. It was, perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself upon the guitar, which gave birth, in great measure, to the fantastic character of hisperformances. But the fervid _facility_ of his impromptus couldnot be so accounted for. They must have been, and were, in the notes, as well as in the words of his wild fantasias (for he not unfrequentlyaccompanied himself with rhymed verbal improvisations), the result ofthat intense mental collectedness and concentration to which I havepreviously alluded as observable only in particular moments of thehighest artificial excitement. The words of one of these rhapsodies Ihave easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the more forcibly impressedwith it, as he gave it, because, in the under or mystic current of itsmeaning, I fancied that I perceived, and for the first time, a fullconsciousness, on the part of Usher, of the tottering of his loftyreason upon her throne. The verses, which were entitled "The HauntedPalace, " ran very nearly, if not accurately, thus:--

I

In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace-- Radiant palace--reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion, It stood there;Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair. 

II

Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow, (This--all this--was in the olden Time long ago)And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away. 

III

Wanderers in that happy valley Through two luminous windows sawSpirits moving musically To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting, Porphyrogene, In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen. 

IV

And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. 

V

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate;(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomedIs but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed. 

VI

And travellers now within that valley Through the red-litten windows seeVast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody;While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale doorA hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh--but smile no more. 

I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad led us intoa train of thought, wherein there became manifest an opinion ofUsher's which I mention not so much on account of its novelty, (forother men[1] haye thought thus, ) as on account of the pertinacity withwhich he maintained it. This opinion, in its general form, was that ofthe sentience of all vegetable things. But in his disordered fancy theidea had assumed a more daring character, and trespassed, undercertain conditions, upon the kingdom of inorganization. I lack wordsto express the full extent, or the earnest _abandon_ of hispersuasion. The belief, however, was connected (as I have previouslyhinted) with the gray stones of the home of his fore-fathers. Theconditions of the sentience had been here, he imagined, fulfilled inthe method of collocation of these stones--in the order of theirarrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi which overspreadthem, and of the decayed trees which stood around--above all, in thelong undisturbed endurance of this arrangement, and in itsreduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence--theevidence of the sentience--was to be seen, he said (and I here startedas he spoke), in the gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphereof their own about the waters and the walls. The result wasdiscoverable, he added, in that silent, yet importunate and terribleinfluence which for centuries had moulded the destinies of his family, and which made _him_ what I now saw him--what he was. Suchopinions need no comment, and I will make none. 

[Footnote 1: Watson, Dr. Percival, Spallanzani, and especially theBishop of Landaff. --See "Chemical Essays, " Vol. V. ]

Our books--the books which, for years, had formed no small portion ofthe mental existence of the invalid--were, as might be supposed, instrict keeping with this character of phantasm. We pored together oversuch works as the Ververt and Chartreuse of Gresset; the Belphegor ofMachiavelli; the Heaven and Hell of Swedenborg; the SubterraneanVoyage of Nicholas Klimm by Holberg; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud, ofJean D'Indagine, and of De la Chambre; the Journey into the BlueDistance of Tieck; and the City of the Sun of Campanella. One favoritevolume was a small octavo edition of the _DirectoriumInquisitorum_, by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and there werepassages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and Aegipans, over which Usher would sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the perusal of an exceedingly rare and curiousbook in quarto Gothic--the manual of a forgotten church--the_Vigilice Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae_. 

I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and of itsprobable influence upon the hypochondriac, when one evening, havinginformed me abruptly that the lady Madeline was no more, he stated hisintention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight, (previously to itsfinal interment, ) in one of the numerous vaults within the main wallsof the building. The worldly reason, however, assigned for thissingular proceeding, was one which I did not feel at liberty todispute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so he told me)by consideration of the unusual character of the malady of thedeceased, of certain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the part of hermedical men, and of the remote and exposed situation of theburial-ground of the family. I will not deny that when I called tomind the sinister countenance of the person whom I met upon thestaircase, on the day of my arrival at the house, I had no desire tooppose what I regarded as at best but a harmless, and by no means anunnatural, precaution. 

At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangementsfor the temporary entombment. The body having been encoffined, we twoalone bore it to its rest. The vault in which we placed it (and whichhad been so long unopened that our torches, half smothered in itsoppressive atmosphere, gave us little opportunity for investigation)was small, damp, and entirely without means of admission for light;lying, at great depth, immediately beneath that portion of thebuilding in which was my own sleeping apartment. It had been used, apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of adonjon-keep, and in later days as a place of deposit for powder, orsome other highly combustible substance, as a portion of its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The door, of massive iron, hadbeen, also, similarly protected. Its immense weight caused anunusually sharp grating sound, as it moved upon its hinges. 

Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within this regionof horror, we partially turned aside the yet unscrewed lid of thecoffin, and looked upon the face of the tenant. A striking similitudebetween the brother and sister now first arrested my attention; andUsher, divining, perhaps, my thoughts, murmured out some few wordsfrom which I learned that the deceased and himself had been twins, andthat sympathies of a scarcely intelligible nature had always existedbetween them. Our glances, however, rested not long upon the dead--forwe could not regard her unawed. The disease which had thus entombedthe lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladiesof a strictly cataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blushupon the bosom and the face, and that suspiciously lingering smileupon the lip which is so terrible in death. We replaced and screweddown the lid, and, having secured the door of iron, made our way, withtoil, into the scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion ofthe house. 

And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observablechange came over the features of the mental disorder of my friend. Hisordinary manner had vanished. His ordinary occupations were neglectedor forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamber with hurried, unequal, and objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, ifpossible, a more ghastly hue--but the luminousness of his eye hadutterly gone out. The once occasional huskiness of his tone was heardno more; and a tremulous quaver, as if of extreme terror, habituallycharacterized his utterance. There were times, indeed, when I thoughthis unceasingly agitated mind was laboring with some oppressivesecret, to divulge which he struggled for the necessary courage. Attimes, again, I was obliged to resolve all into the mere inexplicablevagaries of madness, for I beheld him gazing upon vacancy for longhours, in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if listening tosome imaginary sound. It was no wonder that his conditionterrified--that it infected me. I felt creeping upon me, by slow yetcertain degrees, the wild influences of his own fantastic yetimpressive superstitions. 

It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of theseventh or eighth day after the placing of the lady Madeline withinthe donjon, that I experienced the full power of such feelings. Sleepcame not near my couch, while the hours waned and waned away. Istruggled to reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. Iendeavored to believe that much, if not all, of what I felt was due tothe bewildering influence of the gloomy furniture of the room--of thedark and tattered draperies which, tortured into motion by the breathof a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, andrustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts werefruitless. An irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded my frame; and atlength there sat upon my very heart an incubus of utterly causelessalarm. Shaking this off with a gasp and a struggle, I uplifted myselfupon the pillows, and, peering earnestly within the intense darknessof the chamber, hearkened--I know not why, except that an instinctivespirit prompted me--to certain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the pauses of the storm, at long intervals, I knew notwhence. Overpowered by an intense sentiment of horror, unaccountableyet unendurable, I threw on my clothes with haste, (for I felt that Ishould sleep no more during the night, ) and endeavored to arousemyself from the pitiable condition into which I had fallen, by pacingrapidly to and fro through the apartment. 

I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on anadjoining staircase arrested my attention. I presently recognized itas that of Usher. In an instant afterward he rapped with a gentletouch at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was, asusual, cadaverously wan--but, moreover, there was a species of madhilarity in his eyes--an evidently restrained hysteria in his wholedemeanor. His air appalled me--but anything was preferable to thesolitude which I had so long endured, and I even welcomed his presenceas a relief. 

"And you have not seen it?" he said abruptly, after having staredabout him for some moments in silence--"you have not then seenit?--but, stay! you shall. " Thus speaking, and having carefully shadedhis lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and threw it freely opento the storm. 

The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from ourfeet. It was, indeed, a tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, andone wildly singular in its terror and its beauty. A whirlwind hadapparently collected its force in our vicinity; for there werefrequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind; and theexceeding density of the clouds (which hung so low as to press uponthe turrets of the house) did not prevent our perceiving the life-likevelocity with which they flew careering from all points against eachother, without passing away into the distance. I say that even theirexceeding density did not prevent our perceiving this; yet we had noglimpse of the moon or stars, nor was there any flashing forth of thelightning. But the under surfaces of the huge masses of agitatedvapor, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately around us, wereglowing in the unnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctlyvisible gaseous exhalation which hung about and enshrouded themansion. 

"You must not--you shall not behold this!" said I, shudderingly, toUsher, as I led him with a gentle violence from the window to aseat. "These appearances, which bewilder you, are merely electricalphenomena not uncommon--or it may be that they have their ghastlyorigin in the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this casement; theair is chilling and dangerous to your frame. Here is one of yourfavorite romances. I will read, and you shall listen;--and so we willpass away this terrible night together. "

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

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

"And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was nowmighty withal, on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he haddrunken, waited no longer to hold parley with the hermit, who, insooth, was of an obstinate and maliceful turn, but, feeling the rainupon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest, upliftedhis mace outright, and with blows made quickly room in the plankingsof the door for his gauntleted hand; and now pulling therewithsturdily, he so cracked, and ripped, and tore all asunder, that thenoise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarumed and reverberatedthroughout the forest. "

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

"But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, wassore enraged and amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit;but, in the stead thereof, a dragon of a scaly and prodigiousdemeanor, and of a fiery tongue, which sate in guard before a palaceof gold, with a floor of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shieldof shining brass with this legend enwritten--

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

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

Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wildamazement; for there could be no doubt whatever that, in thisinstance, I did actually hear (although from what direction itproceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but harsh, protracted, and most unusual screaming or gratingsound--the exact counterpart of what my fancy had already conjured upfor the dragon's unnatural shriek as described by the romancer. 

Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of this second andmost extraordinary coincidence, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder and extreme terror were predominant, I still retainedsufficient presence of mind to avoid exciting, by any observation, thesensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by no means certain thathe had noticed the sounds in question; although, assuredly, a strangealteration had during the last few minutes taken place in hisdemeanor. From a position fronting my own, he had gradually broughtround his chair, so as to sit with his face to the door of thechamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his features, although I saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuringinaudibly. His head had dropped upon his breast--yet I knew that hewas not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the eye as I caughta glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was atvariance with this idea--for he rocked from side to side with a gentleyet constant and uniform sway. Having rapidly taken notice of allthis, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which thusproceeded:--

"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of thedragon, bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breakingup of the enchantment which was upon it, removed the carcass from outof the way before him, and approached valorously over the silverpavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall; which insooth tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet uponthe silver floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound. "

No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than--as if a shield ofbrass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor ofsilver--I became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation. Completely unnerved, I leapedto my feet; but the measured rocking movement of Usher wasundisturbed. I rushed to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bentfixedly before him, and throughout his whole countenance there reigneda stony rigidity. But, as I placed my hand upon his shoulder, therecame a strong shudder over his whole person; a sickly smile quiveredabout his lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, andgibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closelyover him, I at length drank in the hideous import of his words. 

"Not hear it?--yes, I hear it, and _have_ heard it. Long--long--long--many minutes, many hours, many days, have I heardit--yet I dared not--oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am!--I darednot--I _dared_ not speak! _We have put her living in thetomb!_ Said I not that my senses were acute? I _now_ tell youthat I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin. I heardthem--many, many days ago--yet I dared not--_I dared not speak!_And now--to-night--Ethelred--ha! ha!--the breaking of the hermit'sdoor, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of theshield!--say, rather, the rending of her coffin, and the grating ofthe iron hinges of her prison, and her struggles within the copperedarchway of the vault! Oh, whither shall I fly? Will she not be hereanon? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste? Have I not heardher footstep on the stair? Do I not distinguish that heavy andhorrible beating of her heart? Madman!"--here he sprang furiously tohis feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he weregiving up his soul--"_Madman! I tell you that she now stands withoutthe door!_"

As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been foundthe potency of a spell, the huge antique panels to hich the speakerpointed threw slowly back, upon the instant, their ponderous and ebonyjaws. It was the work of the rushing gust--but then without thosedoors there _did_ stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of thelady Madeline of Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and theevidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciatedframe. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to and fro uponthe threshold--then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward uponthe person of her brother, and, in her violent and now finaldeath-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to theterrors he had anticipated. 

From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The stormwas still abroad in all its wrath as I found myself crossing the oldcauseway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild light, and Iturned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for thevast house and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was thatof the full, setting, and blood-red moon, which now shone vividlythrough that once barely-discernible fissure, of which I have beforespoken as extending from the roof of the building, in a zigzagdirection, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidlywidened--there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind--the entire orbof the satellite burst at once upon my sight--my brain reeled as I sawthe mighty walls rushing asunder--there was a long tumultuous shoutingsound like the voice of a thousand waters--and the deep and dank tarnat my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the"_House of Usher_. "

WILLIAM WILSON

 What say of it? what say of CONSCIENCE grim, That spectre in my path? CHAMBERLAYNE: _Pharronida_

Let me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page nowlying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation. This hasbeen already too much an object for the scorn--for the horror--for thedetestation of my race. To the uttermost regions of the globe have notthe indignant winds bruited its unparalleled infamy? Oh, outcast ofall outcasts most abandoned!--to the earth art thou not forever dead?to its honors, to its flowers, to its golden aspirations?--and acloud, dense, dismal, and limitless, does it not hang eternallybetween thy hopes and heaven?

I would not, if I could, here or to-day, embody a record of my lateryears of unspeakable misery and unpardonable crime. This epoch, theselater years, took unto themselves a sudden elevation in turpitude, whose origin alone it is my present purpose to assign. Men usuallygrow base by degrees. From me, in an instant, all virtue droppedbodily as a mantle. From comparatively trivial wickedness I passed, with the stride of a giant, into more than the enormities of anElah-Gabalus. What chance--what one event brought this evil thing topass, bear with me while I relate. Death approaches; and the shadowwhich foreruns him has thrown a softening influence over my spirit. Ilong, in passing through the dim valley, for the sympathy--I hadnearly said for the pity--of my fellow-men. I would fain have thembelieve that I have been, in some measure, the slave of circumstancesbeyond human control. I would wish them to seek out for me, in thedetails I am about to give, some little oasis of _fatality_ amid awilderness of error. I would have them allow--what they cannot refrainfrom allowing--that, although temptation may have erewhile existed asgreat, man was never _thus_, at least, tempted before--certainly, never _thus_ fell. And is it therefore that he has never thussuffered? Have I not indeed been living in a dream? And am I not nowdying a victim to the horror and the mystery of the wildest of allsublunary visions?

I am the descendant of a race whose imaginative and easily excitabletemperament has at all times rendered them remarkable; and, in myearliest infancy, I gave evidence of having fully inherited the familycharacter. As I advanced in years it was more strongly developed;becoming, for many reasons, a cause of serious disquietude to myfriends, and of positive injury to myself. I grew self-willed, addicted to the wildest caprices, and a prey to the most ungovernablepassions. Weak-minded, and beset with constitutional infirmities akinto my own, my parents could do but little to check the evilpropensities which distinguished me. Some feeble and ill-directedefforts resulted in complete failure on their part, and, of course, intotal triumph on mine. Thenceforward my voice was a household law; andat an age when few children have abandoned their leading-strings I wasleft to the guidance of my own will, and became, in all but name, themaster of my own actions. 

My earliest recollections of a school-life are connected with a large, rambling, Elizabethan house, in a misty-looking village of England, where were a vast number of gigantic and gnarled trees, and where allthe houses were excessively ancient. In truth, it was a dream-like andspirit-soothing place, that venerable old town. At this moment, infancy, I feel the refreshing chilliness of its deeply-shadowedavenues, inhale the fragrance of its thousand shrubberies, and thrillanew with undefinable delight at the deep hollow note of thechurch-bell, breaking, each hour, with sullen and sudden roar, uponthe stillness of the dusky atmosphere in which the fretted Gothicsteeple lay imbedded and asleep. 

It gives me, perhaps, as much of pleasure as I can now in any mannerexperience to dwell upon minute recollections of the school and itsconcerns. Steeped in misery as I am--misery, alas! only too real--Ishall be pardoned for seeking relief, however slight and temporary, inthe weakness of a few rambling details. These, moreover, utterlytrivial, and even ridiculous in themselves, assume to my fancyadventitious importance, as connected with a period and a localitywhen and where I recognize the first ambiguous monitions of thedestiny which afterwards so fully overshadowed me. Let me thenremember. 

The house, I have said, was old and irregular. The grounds wereextensive, and a high and solid brick wall, topped with a bed ofmortar and broken glass, encompassed the whole. This prison-likerampart formed the limit of our domain; beyond it we saw but thrice aweek--once every Saturday afternoon, when, attended by two ushers, wewere permitted to take brief walks in a body through some of theneighboring fields--and twice during Sunday, when we were paraded inthe same formal manner to the morning and evening service in the onechurch of the village. Of this church the principal of our school waspastor. With how deep a spirit of wonder and perplexity was I wont toregard him from our remote pew in the gallery, as, with step solemnand slow, he ascended the pulpit! This reverend man, with countenanceso demurely benign, with robes so glossy and so clerically flowing, with wig so minutely powdered, so rigid and so vast, --could this be hewho, of late, with sour visage, and in snuffy habiliments, administered, ferule in hand, the Draconian Laws of the academy? Oh, gigantic paradox, too utterly monstrous for solution!

At an angle of the ponderous wall frowned a more ponderous gate. Itwas riveted and studded with iron bolts, and surmounted with jaggediron spikes. What impressions of deep awe did it inspire! It was neveropened save for the three periodical egressions and ingressionsalready mentioned; then, in every creak of its mighty hinges, we founda plenitude of mystery--a world of matter for solemn remark, or formore solemn meditation. 

The extensive enclosure was irregular in form, having many capaciousrecesses. Of these, three or four of the largest constituted theplay-ground. It was level, and covered with fine hard gravel. I wellremember it had no trees, nor benches, nor anything similar withinit. Of course it was in the rear of the house. In front lay a smallparterre, planted with box and other shrubs; but through this sacreddivision we passed only upon rare occasions indeed--such as a firstadvent to school or final departure thence, or perhaps when, a parentor friend having called for us, we joyfully took our way home for theChristmas or Midsummer holidays. 

But the house--how quaint an old building was this!--to me howveritably a palace of enchantment! There was really no end to itswindings--to its incomprehensible subdivisions. It was difficult, atany given time, to say with certainty upon which of its two storiesone happened to be. From each room to every other there were sure tobe found three or four steps either in ascent or descent. Then thelateral branches were innumerable, inconceivable, and so returning inupon themselves that our most exact ideas in regard to the wholemansion were not very far different from those with which we ponderedupon infinity. During the five years of my residence here I was neverable to ascertain, with precision, in what remote locality lay thelittle sleeping apartment assigned to myself and some eighteen ortwenty other scholars. 

The school-room was the largest in the house--I could not helpthinking, in the world. It was very long, narrow, and dismally low, with pointed Gothic windows and a ceiling of oak. In a remote andterror-inspiring angle was a square enclosure of eight or ten feet, comprising the _sanctum_, "during hours, " of our principal, theReverend Dr. Bransby. It was a solid structure, with massy door, sooner than open which in the absence of the "Dominie" we would allhave willingly perished by the _peine forte et dure. _ In other angleswere two other similar boxes, far less reverenced, indeed, but stillgreatly matters of awe. One of these was the pulpit of the "classical"usher; one, of the "English and mathematical. " Interspersed about theroom, crossing and recrossing in endless irregularity, wereinnumerable benches and desks, black, ancient, and time-worn, pileddesperately with much-be-thumbed books, and so beseamed with initialletters, names at full length, grotesque figures, and other multipliedefforts of the knife, as to have entirely lost what little of originalform might have been their portion in days long departed. A hugebucket with water stood at one extremity of the room, and a clock ofstupendous dimensions at the other. 

Encompassed by the massy walls of this venerable academy, I passed, yet not in tedium or disgust, the years of the third lustrum of mylife. The teeming brain of childhood requires no external world ofincident to occupy or amuse it; and the apparently dismal monotony ofa school was replete with more intense excitement than my riper youthhas derived from luxury, or my full manhood from crime. Yet I mustbelieve that my first mental development had in it much of theuncommon--even much of the _outre_. Upon mankind at large the eventsof very early existence rarely leave in mature age any definiteimpression. All is gray shadow--a weak and irregular remembrance--anindistinct regathering of feeble pleasures and phantasmagoricpains. With me this is not so. In childhood I must have felt, with theenergy of a man, what I now find stamped upon memory in lines asvivid, as deep, and as durable as the _exergues_ of the Carthaginianmedals. 

Yet in fact--in the fact of the world's view--how little was there toremember! The morning's awakening, the nightly summons to bed; theconnings, the recitations; the periodical half-holidays, andperambulations; the play-ground, with its broils, its pastimes, itsintrigues;--these, by a mental sorcery long forgotten, were made toinvolve a wilderness of sensation, a world of rich incident, anuniverse of varied emotion, of excitement the most passionate andspirit-stirring. "_Oh, le bon temps, que ce siecle de fer!_"

In truth, the ardor, the enthusiasm, and the imperiousness of mydisposition, soon rendered me a marked character among my schoolmates, and by slow but natural gradations gave me an ascendancy over all notgreatly older than myself: over all with a single exception. Thisexception was found in the person of a scholar who, although norelation, bore the same Christian and surname as myself, --acircumstance, in fact, little remarkable; for, notwithstanding a nobledescent, mine was one of those every-day appellations which seem byprescriptive right to have been, time out of mind, the common propertyof the mob. In this narrative I have therefore designated myself asWilliam Wilson, --a fictitious title not very dissimilar to thereal. My namesake alone, of those who in school-phraseologyconstituted "our set, " presumed to compete with me in the studies ofthe class--in the sports and broils of the play-ground--to refuseimplicit belief in my assertions, and submission to my will--indeed, to interfere with my arbitrary dictation in any respect whatsoever. If there is on earth a supreme and unqualified despotism, it is thedespotism of a master-mind in boyhood over the less energetic spiritsof its companions. 

Wilson's rebellion was to me a source of the greatest embarrassment;the more so as, in spite of the bravado with which in public I made apoint of treating him and his pretensions, I secretly felt that Ifeared him, and could not help thinking the equality, which hemaintained so easily with myself, a proof of his true superiority;since not to be overcome cost me a perpetual struggle. Yet thissuperiority, even this equality, was in truth acknowledged by no onebut myself; our associates, by some unaccountable blindness, seemednot even to suspect it. Indeed, his competition, his resistance, andespecially his impertinent and dogged interference with my purposes, were not more pointed than private. He appeared to be destitute alikeof the ambition which urged, and of the passionate energy of mindwhich enabled, me to excel. In his rivalry he might have been supposedactuated solely by a whimsical desire to thwart, astonish, or mortifymyself; although there were times when I could not help observing, with a feeling made up of wonder, abasement, and pique, that hemingled with his injuries, his insults, or his contradictions, acertain most inappropriate, and assuredly most unwelcome, _affectionateness_ of manner. I could only conceive this singularbehavior to arise from a consummate self-conceit assuming the vulgarairs of patronage and protection. 

Perhaps it was this latter trait in Wilson's conduct, conjoined withour identity of name, and the mere accident of our having entered theschool upon the same day, which set afloat the notion that we werebrothers, among the senior classes in the academy. These do notusually inquire with much strictness into the affairs of theirjuniors. I have before said, or should have said, that Wilson was notin the most remote degree connected with my family. But assuredly ifwe _had_ been brothers we must have been twins; for, after leavingDr. Bransby's, I cassually learned that my namesake was born on thenineteenth of January, 1813; and this is a somewhat remarkablecoincidence; for the day is precisely that of my own nativity. 

It may seem strange that in spite of the continual anxiety occasionedme by the rivalry of Wilson, and his intolerable spirit ofcontradiction, I could not bring myself to hate him altogether. Wehad, to be sure, nearly every day a quarrel in which, yielding mepublicly the palm of victory, he, in some manner, contrieved to makeme feel that it was he who had deserved it; yet a sense of pride on mypart, and a veritable dignity on his own, kept us always upon what arecalled "speaking terms, " while there were many points of strongcongeniality in our tempers, operating to awake in me a sentimentwhich our position alone, perhaps, prevented from ripening intofriendship. It is difficult, indeed, to define, or even to describe, my real feelings towards him. They formed a motley and heterogeneousadmixture: some petulant animosity, which was not yet hatred, someesteem, more respect, much fear, with a world of uneasy curiosity. Tothe moralist it will be unnecessary to say, in addition, that Wilsonand myself were the most inseparable of companions. 

It was no doubt the anomalous state of affairs existing between uswhich turned all my attacks upon him (and they were many, either openor covert) into the channel of banter or practical joke (giving painwhile assuming the aspect of mere fun) rather than into a more seriousand determined hostility. But my endeavors on this head were by nomeans uniformly successful, even when my plans were the most wittilyconcocted; for my namesake had much about him, in character, of thatunassuming and quiet austerity which, while enjoying the poignancy ofits own jokes, has no heel of Achilles in itself, and absolutelyrefuses to be laughed at. I could find, indeed, but one vulnerablepoint, and that lying in a personal peculiarity arising, perhaps, fromconstitutional disease, would have been spared by any antagonist lessat his wit's end than myself:--my rival had a weakness in the faucialor guttural organs, which precluded him from raising his voice at anytime _above a very low whisper_. Of this defect I did not fail to takewhat poor advantage lay in my power. 

Wilson's retaliations in kind were many; and there was one form of hispractical wit that disturbed me beyond measure. How his sagacityfirst discovered at all that so petty a thing would vex me, is aquestion I never could solve; but having discovered, he habituallypractised the annoyance. I had always felt aversion to my uncourtlypatronymic, and its very common, if not plebeian praenomen. The wordswere venom in my ears; and when, upon the day of my arrival, a secondWilliam Wilson came also to the academy, I felt angry with him forbearing the name, and doubly disgusted with the name because astranger bore it, who would be the cause of its twofold repetition, who would be constantly in my presence, and whose concerns, in theordinary routine of the school business, must inevitably, on accountof the detestable coincidence, be often confounded with my own. 

The feeling of vexation thus engendered grew stronger with everycircumstance tending to show resemblance, moral or physical, betweenmy rival and myself. I had not then discovered the remarkable factthat we were of the same age; but I saw that we were of the sameheight, and I perceived that we were even singularly alike in generalcontour of person and outline of feature. I was galled, too, by therumor touching a relationship which had grown current in the upperforms. In a word, nothing could more seriously disturb me (although Iscrupulously concealed such disturbance) than any allusion to asimilarity of mind, person, or condition existing between us. But, intruth, I had no reason to believe that (with the exception of thematter of relationship, and in the case of Wilson himself) thissimilarity had ever been made a subject of comment, or even observedat all by our schoolfellows. That _he_ observed it in all itsbearings, and as fixedly as I, was apparent; but that he coulddiscover in such circumstances so fruitful a field of annoyance canonly be attributed, as I said before, to his more than ordinarypenetration. 

His cue, which was to perfect an imitation of myself, lay both inwords and in actions; and most admirably did he play his part. Mydress it was an easy matter to copy; my gait and general manner were, without difficulty, appropriated; in spite of his constitutionaldefect, even my voice did not escape him. My louder tones were, ofcourse, unattempted, but then the key, --it was identical; _and hissingular whisper, --it grew the very echo of my own. _

How greatly this most exquisite portraiture harassed me (for it couldnot justly be termed a caricature) I will not now venture to describe. I had but one consolation--in the fact that the imitation, apparently, was noticed by myself alone, and that I had to endure only the knowingand strangely sarcastic smiles of my namesake himself. Satisfied withhaving produced in my bosom the intended effect, he seemed to chucklein secret over the sting he had inflicted, and wasuncharacteristically disregardful of the public applause which thesuccess of his witty endeavours might have so easily elicited. Thatthe school, indeed, did not feel his design, perceive itsaccomplishment, and participate in his sneer, was, for many anxiousmonths, a riddle I could not resolve. Perhaps the _gradation_ of hiscopy rendered it not so readily perceptible; or, more possibly, I owedmy security to the masterly air of the copyist, who, disdaining theletter (which in a painting is all the obtuse can see) gave but thefull spirit of his original for my individual contemplation andchagrin. 

I have already more than once spoken of the disgusting air ofpatronage which he assumed toward me, and of his frequent officiousinterference with my will. This interference often took the ungraciouscharacter of advice; advice not openly given, but hinted orinsinuated. I received it with a repugnance which gained strength as Igrew in years. Yet, at this distant day, let me do him the simplejustice to acknowledge that I can recall no occasion when thesuggestions of my rival were on the side of those errors or follies sousual to his immature age and seeming inexperience; that his moralsense, at least, if not his general talents and worldly wisdom, wasfar keener than my own; and that I might, to-day, have been a better, and thus a happier man, had I less frequently rejected the counselsembodied in those meaning whispers which I then but too cordiallyhated and too bitterly despised. 

As it was, I at length grew restive in the extreme under hisdistasteful supervision, and daily resented more and more openly whatI considered his intolerable arrogance. I have said that, in the firstyears of our connection as schoolmates, my feelings in regard to himmight have been easily ripened into friendship; but, in the lattermonths of my residence at the academy, although the intrusion of hisordinary manner had, beyond doubt, in some measure abated, mysentiments, in nearly similar proportion, partook very much ofpositive hatred. Upon one occasion he saw this, I think, andafterwards avoided or made a show of avoiding me. 

It was about the same period, if I remember aright, that, in analtercation of violence with him, in which he was more than usuallythrown off his guard, and spoke and acted with an openness of demeanorrather foreign to his nature, I discovered, or fancied I discovered, in his accent, his air and general appearance, a something which firststartled, and then deeply interested me, by bringing to mind dimvisions of my earliest infancy--wild, confused and thronging memoriesof a time when memory herself was yet unborn. I cannot better describethe sensation which oppressed me than by saying that I could withdifficulty shake off the belief of my having been acquainted with thebeing who stood before me, at some epoch very long ago--some point ofthe past even infinitely remote. The delusion, however, faded rapidlyas it came; and I mention it at all but to define the day of the lastconversation I there held with my singular namesake. 

The huge old house, with its countless subdivisions, had several largechambers communicating with each other, where slept the greater numberof the students. There were, however (as must necessarily happen in abuilding so awkwardly planned) many little nooks or recesses, the oddsand ends of the structure; and these the economic ingenuity of Dr. Bransby had also fitted up as dormitories; although, being the merestclosets, they were capable of accommodating but a singleindividual. One of these small apartments was occupied by Wilson. 

One night, about the close of my fifth year at the school, andimmediately after the altercation just mentioned, finding every onewrapped in sleep, I arose from bed, and, lamp in hand, stole through awilderness of narrow passages from my own bedroom to that of myrival. I had long been plotting one of those ill-natured pieces ofpractical wit at his expense in which I had hitherto been so uniformlyunsuccessful. It was my intention, now, to put my scheme in operation, and I resolved to make him feel the whole extent of the malice withwhich I was imbued. Having reached his closet, I noiselessly entered, leaving the lamp, with a shade over it, on the outside. I advanced astep, and listened to the sound of his tranquil breathing. Assured ofhis being asleep, I returned, took the light, and with it againapproached the bed. Close curtains were around it, which, in theprosecution of my plan, I slowly and quietly withdrew, when the brightrays fell vividly upon the sleeper, and my eyes at the same momentupon his countenance. I looked, --and a numbness, an iciness offeeling, instantly pervaded my frame. My breast heaved, my kneestottered, my whole spirit became possessed with an objectless yetintolerable horror. Gasping for breath, I lowered the lamp in stillnearer proximity to the face. Were these, --_these_ the lineaments ofWilliam Wilson? I saw, indeed, that they were his, but I shook as ifwith a fit of the ague, in fancying they were not. What _was_ thereabout them to confound me in this manner? I gazed, --while my brainreeled with a multitude of incoherent thoughts. Not thus heappeared--assuredly not _thus_--in the vivacity of his wakinghours. The same name! the same contour of person! the same day ofarrival at the academy! And then his dogged and meaningless imitationof my gait, my voice, my habits, and my manner! Was it, in truth, within the bounds of human possibility, that _what I now saw_ was theresult, merely, of the habitual practice of this sarcastic imitation?Awe-stricken, and with a creeping shudder, I extinguished the lamp, passed silently from the chamber, and left, at once, the halls of thatold academy, never to enter them again. 

After a lapse of some months, spent at home in mere idleness, I foundmyself a student at Eton. The brief interval had been sufficient toenfeeble my remembrance of the events at Dr. Bransby's, or at least toeffect a material change in the nature of the feelings with which Iremembered them. The truth--the tragedy--of the drama was no more. Icould now find room to doubt the evidence of my senses; and seldomcalled up the subject at all but with wonder at the extent of humancredulity, and a smile at the vivid force of the imagination which Ihereditarily possessed. Neither was this species of scepticism likelyto be diminished by the character of the life I led at Eton. Thevortex of thoughtless folly, into which I there so immediately and sorecklessly plunged, washed away all but the froth of my past hours, engulfed at once every solid or serious impression, and left to memoryonly the veriest levities of a former existence. 

I do not wish, however, to trace the course of my miserable profligacyhere--a profligacy which set at defiance the laws, while it eluded thevigilance, of the institution. Three years of folly, passed withoutprofit, had but given me rooted habits of vice, and added, in asomewhat unusual degree, to my bodily stature, when, after a week ofsoulless dissipation, I invited a small party of the most dissolutestudents to a secret carousal in my chambers. We met at a late hour ofthe night; for our debaucheries were to be faithfully protracted untilmorning. The wine flowed freely, and there were not wanting other andperhaps more dangerous seductions; so that the gray dawn had alreadyfaintly appeared in the east while our delirious extravagance was atits height. Madly flushed with cards and intoxication, I was in theact of insisting upon a toast of more than wonted profanity, when myattention was suddenly diverted by the violent, although partial, unclosing of the door of the apartment, and by the eager voice of aservant from without. He said that some person, apparently in greathaste, demanded to speak with me in the hall. 

Wildly excited with wine, the unexpected interruption rather delightedthan surprised me. I staggered forward at once, and a few stepsbrought me to the vestibule of the building. In this low and smallroom there hung no lamp; and now no light at all was admitted, savethat of the exceedingly feeble dawn which made its way through thesemicircular window. As I put my foot over the threshold, I becameaware of the figure of a youth about my own height, and habited in awhite kerseymere morning frock, cut in the novel fashion of the one Imyself wore at the moment. This the faint light enabled me toperceive; but the features of his face I could not distinguish. Uponmy entering, he strode hurriedly up to me, and, seizing me by the armwith a gesture of petulant impatience, whispered the words "WilliamWilson!" in my ear. 

I grew perfectly sober in an instant. 

There was that in the manner of the stranger, and in the tremulousshake of his uplifted finger, as he held it between my eyes and thelight, which filled me with unqualified amazement; but it was not thiswhich had so violently moved me. It was the pregnancy of solemnadmonition in the singular, low, hissing utterance; and, above all, itwas the character, the tone, _the key_, of those few, simple, andfamiliar, yet _whispered_ syllables, which came with a thousandthronging memories of by-gone days, and struck upon my soul with theshock of a galvanic battery. Ere I could recover the use of my senseshe was gone. 

Although this event failed not of a vivid effect upon my disorderedimagination, yet was it evanescent as vivid. For some weeks, indeed, Ibusied myself in earnest inquiry, or was wrapped in a cloud of morbidspeculation. I did not pretend to disguise from my perception theidentity of the singular individual who thus perseveringly interferedwith my affairs, and harassed me with his insinuated counsel. But whoand what was this Wilson?--and whence came he?--and what were hispurposes? Upon neither of these points could I be satisfied--merelyascertaining, in regard to him, that a sudden accident in his familyhad caused his removal from Dr. Bransby's academy on the afternoon ofthe day in which I myself had eloped. But in a brief period I ceasedto think upon the subject, my attention being all absorbed in acontemplated departure for Oxford. Thither I soon went, theuncalculating vanity of my parents furnishing me with an outfit andannual establishment which would enable me to indulge at will in theluxury already so dear to my hear--to vie in profuseness ofexpenditure with the haughtiest heirs of the wealthiest earldoms inGreat Britain. 

Excited by such appliances to vice, my constitutional temperamentbroke forth with redoubled ardor, and I spurned even the commonrestraints of decency in the mad infatuation of my revels. But it wereabsurd to pause in the detail of my extravagance. Let it suffice, thatamong spendthrifts I out-Heroded Herod, and that, giving name to amultitude of novel follies, I added no brief appendix to the longcatalogue of vices then usual in the most dissolute university ofEurope. 

It could hardly be credited, however, that I had even here, so utterlyfallen from the gentlemanly estate as to seek acquaintance with thevilest arts of the gambler by profession, and, having become an adeptin his despicable science, to practise it habitually as a means ofincreasing my already enormous income at the expense of theweak-minded among my fellow-collegians. Such, nevertheless, was thefact. And the very enormity of this offence against all manly andhonorable sentiment proved, beyond doubt, the main if not the solereason of the impunity with which it was committed. Who, indeed, among my most abandoned associates, would not rather have disputed theclearest evidence of his senses, than have suspected of such coursesthe gay, the frank, the generous William Wilson--the noblest and mostliberal commoner at Oxford: him whose follies (said his parasites)were but the follies of youth and unbridled fancy--whose errors butinimitable whim--whose darkest vice but a careless and dashingextravagance?

I had been now two years successfully busied in this way, when therecame to the university a young _parvenu_ nobleman, Glendinning--rich, said report, as Herodes Atticus--his riches, too, as easilyacquired. I soon found him of weak intellect, and of course marked himas a fitting subject for my skill. I frequently engaged him in play, and contrived, with the gambler's usual art, to let him winconsiderable sums, the more effectually to entangle him in mysnares. At length, my schemes being ripe, I met him (with the fullintention that this meeting should be final and decisive) at thechambers of a fellow-commoner (Mr. Preston) equally intimate withboth, but who, to do him justice, entertained not even a remotesuspicion of my design. To give to this a better coloring, I hadcontrived to have assembled a party of some eight or ten, and wassolicitously careful that the introduction of cards should appearaccidental, and originate in the proposal of my contemplated dupehimself. To be brief upon a vile topic, none of the low finesse wasomitted, so customary upon similar occasions that it is a just matterfor wonder how any are still found so besotted as to fall its victim. 

We had protracted our sitting far into the night, and I had at lengtheffected the manoeuvre of getting Glendinning as my soleantagonist. The game, too, was my favorite _ecarte_. The rest of thecompany, interested in the extent of our play, had abandoned their owncards, and were standing around us as spectators. The _parvenu_, whohad been induced, by my artifices in the early part of the evening, todrink deeply, now shuffled, dealt, or played, with a wild nervousnessof manner for which his intoxication, I thought, might partially butcould not altogether account. In a very short period he had become mydebtor to a large amount, when, having taken a long draught of port, he did precisely what I had been coolly anticipating--he proposed todouble our already extravagant stakes. With a well-feigned show ofreluctance, and not until after my repeated refusal had seduced himinto some angry words which gave a color of pique to my compliance, did I finally comply. The result, of course, did but prove howentirely the prey was in my toils; in less than an hour he hadquadrupled his debt. For some time his countenance had been losingthe florid tinge lent it by the wine; but now, to my astonishment, Iperceived that it had grown to a pallor truly fearful. I say, to myastonishment. Glendinning had been represented to my eager inquiriesas immeasurably wealthy; and the sums which he had as yet lost, although in themselves vast, could not, I supposed, very seriouslyannoy, much less so violently affect him. That he was overcome by thewine just swallowed, was the idea which most readily presented itself;and, rather with a view to the preservation of my own character in theeyes of my associates, than from any less interested motive, I wasabout to insist, peremptorily, upon a discontinuance of the play, whensome expressions at my elbow from among the company, and anejaculation evincing utter despair on the part of Glendinning, gave meto understand that I had effected his total ruin under circumstanceswhich, rendering him an object for the pity of all, should haveprotected him from the ill offices even of a fiend. 

What now might have been my conduct it is difficult to say. Thepitiable condition of my dupe had thrown an air of embarrassed gloomover all; and for some moments a profound silence was maintained, during which I could not help feeling my cheeks tingle with the manyburning glances of scorn or reproach cast upon me by the lessabandoned of the party. I will even own that an intolerable weight ofanxiety was for a brief instant lifted from my bosom by the sudden andextraordinary interruption which ensued. The wide, heavy folding-doorsof the apartment were all at once thrown open, to their full extent, with a vigorous and rushing impetuosity that extinguished, as if bymagic, every candle in the room. Their light, in dying, enabled usjust to perceive that a stranger had entered, about my own height, andclosely muffled in a cloak. The darkness, however, was now total; andwe could only _feel_ that he was standing in our midst. Before any oneof us could recover from the extreme astonishment into which thisrudeness had thrown all, we heard the voice of the intruder. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, in a low, distinct, and never-to-be-forgotten_whisper_ which thrilled to the very marrow of my bones, "gentlmen, Imake no apology for this behavior, because, in thus behaving, I am butfulfilling a duty. You are, beyond doubt, uninformed of the truecharacter of the person who has to-night won at _ecarte_ a large sumof money from Lord Glendinning. I will therefore put you upon anexpeditious and decisive plan of obtaining this very necessaryinformation. Please to examine, at your leisure, the inner linings ofthe cuff of his left sleeve, and the several little packages which maybe found in the somewhat capacious pockets of his embroidered morningwrapper. "

While he spoke, so profound was the stillness that one might haveheard a pin drop upon the floor. In ceasing, he departed at once, andas abruptly as he had entered. Can I--shall I describe my sensations?Must I say that I felt all the horrors of the damned? Most assuredly Ihad little time for reflection. Many hands roughly seized me upon thespot, and lights were immediately re-procured. A search ensued. In thelining of my sleeve were found all the court cards essential in_ecarte_, and, in the pockets of my wrapper, a number of packs, facsimiles of those used at our sittings, with the single exceptionthat mine were of the species called, technically, _arrondis_; thehonors being slightly convex at the ends, the lower cards slightlyconvex at the sides. In this disposition, the dupe who cuts, ascustomary, at the length of the pack, will invariably find that hecuts his antagonist an honor; while the gambler, cutting at thebreadth, will, as certainly, cut nothing for his victim which maycount in the records of the game. 

Any burst of indignation upon this discovery would have affected meless than the silent contempt, or the sarcastic composure, with whichit was received. 

"Mr. Wilson, " said our host, stooping to remove from beneath his feetan exceedingly luxurious cloak of rare furs, "Mr. Wilson, this is yourproperty. " (The weather was cold; and, upon quitting my own room, Ihad thrown a cloak over my dressing wrapper, putting it off uponreaching the scene of play. ) "I presume it is supererogatory to seekhere" (eying the folds of the garment with a bitter smile) "for anyfarther evidence of your skill. Indeed, we have had enough. You willsee the necessity, I hope, of quitting Oxford--at all events, ofquitting instantly my chambers. "

Abased, humbled to the dust as I then was, it is probable that Ishould have resented this galling language by immediate personalviolence, had not my whole attention been at the moment arrested by afact of the most startling character. The cloak which I had worn wasof a rare description of fur; how rare, how extravagantly costly, Ishall not venture to say. Its fashion, too, was of my own fantasticinvention; for I was fastidious to an absurd degree of coxcombry, inmatters of this frivolous nature. When, therefore, Mr. Preston reachedme that which he had picked up upon the floor, and near thefolding-doors of the apartment, it was with an astonishment nearlybordering upon terror, that I perceived my own already hanging on myarm, (where I had no doubt unwittingly placed it) and that the onepresented me was but its exact counterpart in every, in even theminutest possible particular. The singular being who had sodisastrously exposed me, had been muffled, I remembered, in a cloak;and none had been worn at all by any of the members of our party, withthe exception of myself. Retaining some presence of mind, I took theone offered me by Preston; placed it, unnoticed, over my own; left theapartment with a resolute scowl of defiance; and, next morning eredawn of day, commenced a hurried journey from Oxford to the continent, in a perfect agony of horror and of shame. 

_I fled in vain. _ My evil destiny pursued me as if in exultation, andproved, indeed, that the exercise of its mysterious dominion had asyet only begun. Scarcely had I set foot in Paris, ere I had freshevidence of the detestable interest taken by this Wilson in myconcerns. Years flew, while I experienced no relief. Villain!--atRome, with how untimely, yet with how spectral an officiousness, stepped he in between me and my ambition! At Vienna, too--atBerlin--and at Moscow! Where, in truth, had I _not_ bitter cause tocurse him within my heart? From his inscrutable tyranny did I atlength flee, panic-stricken, as from a pestilence; and to the veryends of the earth _I fled in vain. _

And again, and again, in secret communion with my own spirit, would Idemand the questions, "Who is he?--whence came he?--and what are hisobjects?" But no answer was there found. And now I scrutinized, with aminute scrutiny, the forms, and the methods, and the leading traits ofhis impertinent supervision. But even here there was very little uponwhich to base a conjecture. It was noticeable, indeed, that, in no oneof the multiplied instances in which he had of late crossed my path, had he so crossed it except to frustrate those schemes, or to disturbthose actions, which, if fully carried out, might have resulted inbitter mischief. Poor justification this, in truth, for an authorityso imperiously assumed! Poor indemnity for natural rights ofself-agency so pertinaciously, so insultingly denied!

I had also been forced to notice that my tormentor, for a very longperiod of time (while scrupulously and with miraculous dexteritymaintaining his whim of an identity of apparel with myself) had socontrived it, in the execution of his varied interference with mywill, that I saw not, at any moment, the features of his face. BeWilson what he might, _this_, at least, was but the veriest ofaffectation, or of folly. Could he, for an instant, have supposedthat, in my admonisher at Eton--in the destroyer of my honor atOxford, --in him who thwarted my ambition at Rome, my revenge at Paris, my passionate love at Naples, or what he falsely termed my avarice inEgypt, --that in this, my arch-enemy and evil genius, I could fail torecognize the William Wilson of my schoolboy days: the namesake, thecompanion, the rival, the hated and dreaded rival at Dr. Bransby's?Impossible!--but let me hasten to the last eventful scene of thedrama. 

Thus far I had succumbed suginely to this imperious domination. Thesentiment of deep awe with which I habitually regarded the elevatedcharacter, the majestic wisdom, the apparent omnipresence andomnipotence of Wilson, added to a feeling of even terror, with whichcertain other traits in his nature and assumptions inspired me, hadoperated, hitherto, to impress me with an idea of my own utterweakness and helplessness, and to suggest an implicit, althoughbitterly reluctant submission to his arbitrary will. But, of latedays, I had given myself up entirely to wine; and its maddeninginfluence upon my hereditary temper rendered me more and moreimpatient of control. I began to murmur, to hesitate, to resist. Andwas it only fancy which induced me to believe that, with the increaseof my own firmness, that of my tormentor underwent a proportionaldiminution? Be this as it may, I now began to feel the inspiration ofa burning hope, and at length nurtured in my secret thoughts a sternand desperate resolution that I would submit no longer to be enslaved. 

It was at Rome, during the Carnival of 18--, that I attended amasquerade in the palazzo of the Neapolitan Duke Di Broglio. I hadindulged more freely than usual in the excesses of the wine-table; andnow the suffocating atmosphere of the crowded rooms irritated mebeyond endurance. The difficulty, too, of forcing my way through themazes of the company contributed not a little to the ruffling of mytemper; for I was anxiously seeking (let me not say with what unworthymotive) the young, the gay, the beautiful wife of the aged and dotingDi Broglio. With a too unscrupulous confidence she had previouslycommunicated to me the secret of the costume in which she would behabited, and now, having caught a glimpse of her person, I washurrying to make my way into her presence. At this moment I felt alight hand placed upon my shoulder, and that ever-remembered, low, damnable _whisper_ within my ear. 

In an absolute frenzy of wrath, I turned at once upon him who had thusinterrupted me, and seized him violently by the collar. He wasattired, as I had expected, in a costume altogether similar to my own;wearing a Spanish cloak of blue velvet, begirt about the waist with acrimson belt sustaining a rapier. A mask of black silk entirelycovered his face. 

"Scoundrel!" I said, in a voice husky with rage, while every syllableI uttered seemed as new fuel to my fury; "scoundrel! impostor!accursed villain! you shall not--you _shall not_ dog me unto death!Follow me, or I stab you where you stand!"--and I broke my way fromthe ball-room into a small ante-chamber adjoining, dragging himunresistingly with me as I went. 

Upon entering, I thrust him furiously from me. He staggered againstthe wall, while I closed the door with an oath, and commanded him todraw. He hesitated but for an instant; then, with a slight sigh, drewin silence, and put himself upon his defence. 

The contest was brief indeed. I was frantic with every species of wildexcitement, and felt within my single arm the energy and power of amultitude. In a few seconds I forced him by sheer strength against thewainscoting, and thus, getting him at mercy, plunged my sword, withbrute ferocity, repeatedly through and through his bosom. 

At that instant some person tried the latch of the door. I hastened toprevent an intrusion, and then immediately returned to my dyingantagonist. But what human language can adequately portray _that_astonishment, _that_ horror which possessed me at the spectacle thenpresented to view? The brief moment in which I averted my eyes hadbeen sufficient to produce, apparently, a material change in thearrangements at the upper or farther end of the room. A largemirror--so at first it seemed to me in my confusion--now stood wherenone had been perceptible before; and, as I stepped up to it inextremity of terror, mine own image, but with features all pale anddabbled in blood, advanced to meet me with a feeble and totteringgait. 

Thus it appeared, I say, but was not. It was my antagonist--it wasWilson, who then stood before me in the agonies of his dissolution. His mask and cloak lay, where he had thrown them, upon the floor. Nota thread in all his raiment--not a line in all the marked and singularlineaments of his face which was not, even in the most absoluteidentity, _mine own_!

It was Wilson; but he spoke no longer in a whisper, and I could havefancied that I myself was speaking while he said:--

_"You have conquered, and I yield. Yet, henceforward art thou alsodead--dead to the World, to Heaven and to Hope! In me didst thouexist--and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, howutterly thou hast murdered thyself. "_

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM

 The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as _our_ ways; nor are the models that we frame any way commensurate to the vastness, profundity, and unsearchableness of His works, _which have a depth in them greater than the well of Democritus_. JOSEPH GLANVILLE

We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some minutesthe old man seemed too much exhausted to speak. 

"Not long ago, " said he at length, "and I could have guided you onthis route as well as the youngest of my sons; but, about three yearspast, there happened to me an event such as never happened before tomortal man--or at least such as no man ever survived to tell of--andthe six hours of deadly terror which I then endured have broken me upbody and soul. You suppose me a _very_ old man--but I am not. It tookless than a single day to change these hairs from a jetty black towhite, to weaken my limbs, and to unstring my nerves, so that Itremble at the least exertion, and am frightened at a shadow. Do youknow I can scarcely look over this little cliff without gettinggiddy?"

The "little cliff, " upon whose edge he had so carelessly thrownhimself down to rest that the weightier portion of his body hung overit, while he was only kept from falling by the tenure of his elbow onits extreme and slippery edge--this "little cliff" arose, a sheerunobstructed precipice of black shining rock, some fifteen or sixteenhundred feet from the world of crags beneath us. Nothing would havetempted me to within half a dozen yards of its brink. In truth sodeeply was I excited by the perilous position of my companion, that Ifell at full length upon the ground, clung to the shrubs around me, and dared not even glance upward at the sky--while I struggled in vainto divest myself of the idea that the very foundations of the mountainwere in danger from the fury of the winds. It was long before I couldreason myself into sufficient courage to sit up and look out into thedistance. 

"You must get over these fancies, " said the guide, "for I have broughtyou here that you might have the best possible view of the scene ofthat event I mentioned--and to tell you the whole story with the spotjust under your eye. 

"We are now, " he continued, in that particularizing manner whichdistinguished him--"we are now close upon the Norwegian coast--in thesixty-eighth degree of latitude--in the great province ofNordland--and in the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain uponwhose top we sit is Helseggen, the Cloudy. Now raise yourself up alittle higher--hold on to the grass if you feel giddy--so--and lookout, beyond the belt of vapor beneath us, into the sea. "

I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose waterswore so inky a hue as to bring at once to my mind the Nubiangeographer's account of the _Mare Tenebrarum_. A panorama moredeplorably desolate no human imagination can conceive. To the rightand left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched, likeramparts of the world, lines of horridly black and beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was but the more forcibly illustrated by thesurf which reared high up against it its white and ghastly crest, howling and shrieking forever. Just opposite the promontory upon whoseapex we were placed, and at a distance of some five or six miles outat sea, there was visible a small, bleak-looking island; or, moreproperly, its position was discernible through the wilderness of surgein which it was enveloped. About two miles nearer the land aroseanother of smaller size, hideously craggy and barren, and encompassedat various intervals by a cluster of dark rocks. 

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distantisland and the shore, had something very unusual about it. Although, at the time, so strong a gale was blowing landward that a brig in theremote offing lay to under a double-reefed trysail, and constantlyplunged her whole hull out of sight, still there was here nothing likea regular swell, but only a short, quick, angry cross dashing of waterin every direction--as well in the teeth of the wind as otherwise. Offoam there was little except in the immediate vicinity of the rocks. 

"The island in the distance, " resumed the old man, "is called by theNorwegians Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. That a mile to thenorthward is Ambaaren. Yonder are Iflesen, Hoeyholm, Kieldholm, Suarven, and Buckholm. Farther off--between Moskoe and Vurrgh--areOtterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Skarholm. These are the true namesof the places--but why it has been thought necessary to name them atall is more than either you or I can understand. Do you hear anything?Do you see any change in the water?"

We had now been about ten minutes upon the top of Helseggen, to whichwe had ascended from the interior of Lofoden, so that we had caught noglimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from the summit. As theold man spoke, I became aware of a loud and gradually increasingsound, like the moaning of a vast herd of buffaloes upon an Americanprairie; and at the same moment I perceived that what seamen term the_chopping_ character of the ocean beneath us, was rapidly changinginto a current which set to the eastward. Even while I gazed, thiscurrent acquired a monstrous velocity. Each moment added to itsspeed--to its headlong impetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea, asfar as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury; but it was betweenMoskoe and the coast that the main uproar held its sway. Here the vastbed of the waters, seamed and scarred into a thousand conflictingchannels, burst suddenly into frenzied convulsion--heaving, boiling, hissing--gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vortices, and allwhirling and plunging on to the eastward with a rapidity which waternever elsewhere assumes, except in precipitous descents. 

In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radicalalteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth, and thewhirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while prodigious streaks of foambecame apparent where none had been seen before. These streaks, atlength, spreading out to a great distance, and entering intocombination, took unto themselves the gyratory motion of the subsidedvortices, and seemed to form the germ of another morevast. Suddenly--very suddenly--this assumed a distinct and definiteexistence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge ofthe whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray; but noparticle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, whoseinterior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle ofsome forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with aswaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds anappalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as not even the mightycataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven. 

The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I threwmyself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess ofnervous agitation. 

"This, " said I at length, to the old man--"this _can_ be nothing elsethan the great whirlpool of the Maelstrom. "

"So it is sometimes termed, " said he. "We Norwegians call it theMoskoe-strom, from the island of Moskoe in the midway. " The ordinaryaccounts of this vortex had by no means prepared me for what Isaw. That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the most circumstantial ofany, cannot impart the faintest conception either of the magnificenceor of the horror of the scene--or of the wild bewildering sense of_the novel_ which confounds the beholder. I am not sure from whatpoint of view the writer in question surveyed it, nor at what time;but it could neither have been from the summit of Helseggen, norduring a storm. There are some passages of his description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their details, although theireffect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression of thespectacle. 

"Between Lofoden and Moskoe, " he says, "the depth of the water isbetween thirty-six and forty fathoms; but on the other side, towardVer (Vurrgh), this depth decreases so as not to afford a convenientpassage for a vessel, without the risk of splitting on the rocks, which happens even in the calmest weather. When it is flood, thestream runs up the country between Lofoden and Moskoe with aboisterous rapidity; but the roar of its impetuous ebb to the sea isscarce equalled by the loudest and most dreadful cataracts, the noisebeing heard several leagues Off; and the vortices or pits are of suchan extent and depth, that if a ship comes within its attraction, it isinevitably absorbed and carried down to the bottom, and there beat topieces against the rocks; and when the water relaxes, the fragmentsthereof are thrown up again. But these intervals of tranquillity areonly at the turn of the ebb and flood, and in calm weather, and lastbut a quarter of an hour, its violence gradually returning. When thestream is most boisterous, and its fury heightened by a storm, it isdangerous to come within a Norway mile of it. Boats, yachts, and shipshave been carried away by not guarding against it before they werewithin its reach. It likewise happens frequently that whales come toonear the stream, and are overpowered by its violence; and then it isimpossible to describe their howlings and bellowings in theirfruitless struggles to disengage themselves. A bear once, attemptingto swim from Lofoden to Moskoe, was caught by the stream and bornedown, while he roared terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Largestocks of firs and pine trees, after being absorbed by the current, rise again broken and torn to such a degree as if bristles grew uponthem. This plainly shows the bottom to consist of craggy rocks, amongwhich they are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by theflux and reflux of the sea--it being constantly high and low waterevery six hours. In the year 1645, early in the morning of SexagesimaSunday, it raged with such noise and impetuosity that the very stonesof the houses on the coast fell to the ground. "

In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this couldhave been ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of thevortex. The "forty fathoms" must have reference only to portions ofthe channel close upon the shore either of Moskoe or Lofoden. Thedepth in the centre of the Moskoe-strom must be immeasurably greater;and no better proof of this fact is necessary than can be obtainedfrom even the sidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl which may behad from the highest crag of Helseggen. Looking down from thispinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I could not help smilingat the simplicity with which the honest Jonas Ramus records, as amatter difficult of belief, the anecdotes of the whales and the bears;for it appeared to me, in fact, a self-evident thing that the largestships of the line in existence, coming within the influence of thatdeadly attraction, could resist it as little as a feather thehurricane, and must disappear bodily and at once. 

The attempts to account for the phenomenon--some of which, I remember, seemed to me sufficiently plausible in perusal--now wore a verydifferent and unsatisfactory aspect. The idea generally received isthat this, as well as three smaller vortices among the Feroe Islands, "have no other cause than the collision of waves rising and falling, at flux and reflux, against a ridge of rocks and shelves, whichconfines the water so that it precipitates itself like a cataract; andthus the higher the flood rises, the deeper must the fall be, and thenatural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex, the prodigious suctionof which is sufficiently known by lesser experiments. "--These are thewords of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica. " Kircher and others imaginethat in the centre of the channel of the Maelstrom is an abysspenetrating the globe, and issuing in some very remote part--the Gulfof Bothnia being somewhat decidedly named in one instance. Thisopinion, idle in itself, was the one to which, as I gazed, myimagination most readily assented; and, mentioning it to the guide, Iwas rather surprised to hear him say that, although it was the viewalmost universally entertained of the subject by the Norwegians, itnevertheless was not his own. As to the former notion he confessed hisinability to comprehend it; and here I agreed with him--for, howeverconclusive on paper, it becomes altogether unintelligible, and evenabsurd, amid the thunder of the abyss. 

"You have had a good look at the whirl now, " said the old man, "and ifyou will creep round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and deadenthe roar of the water, I will tell you a story that will convince youI ought to know something of the Moskoe-strom. "

I placed myself as desired, and he proceeded. 

"Myself and my two brothers once owned a schooner-rigged smack ofabout seventy tons burden, with which we were in the habit of fishingamong the islands beyond Moskoe, nearly to Vurrgh. In all violenteddies at sea there is good fishing, at proper opportunities, if onehas only the courage to attempt it; but among the whole of the Lofodencoastmen we three were the only ones who made a regular business ofgoing out to the islands, as I tell you. The usual grounds are a greatway lower down to the southward. There fish can be got at all hours, without much risk, and therefore these places are preferred. Thechoice spots over here among the rocks, however, not only yield thefinest variety, but in far greater abundance; so that we often got ina single day what the more timid of the craft could not scrapetogether in a week. In fact, we made it a matter of desperatespeculation--the risk of life standing instead of labor, and courageanswering for capital. 

"We kept the smack in a cove about five miles higher up the coast thanthis; and it was our practice, in fine weather, to take advantage ofthe fifteen minutes' slack to push across the main channel of theMoskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop down upon anchoragesomewhere near Otterholm, or Sandflesen, where the eddies are not soviolent as elsewhere. Here we used to remain until nearly time forslack-water again, when we weighed and made for home. We never set outupon this expedition without a steady side wind for going andcoming--one that we felt sure would not fail us before our return--andwe seldom made a miscalculation upon this point. Twice, during sixyears, we were forced to stay all night at anchor on account of a deadcalm, which is a rare thing indeed just about here; and once we had toremain on the grounds nearly a week, starving to death, owing to agale which blew up shortly after our arrival, and made the channel tooboisterous to be thought of. Upon this occasion we should have beendriven out to sea in spite of everything (for the whirlpools threw usround and round so violently, that, at length, we fouled our anchorand dragged it) if it had not been that we drifted into one of theinnumerable cross currents--here to-day and gone to-morrow--whichdrove us under the lee of Flimen, where, by good luck, we brought up. 

"I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties weencountered 'on the ground'--it is a bad spot to be in, even in goodweather--but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of theMoskoe-strom itself without accident; although at times my heart hasbeen in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so behind orbefore the slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong as we thoughtit at starting, and then we made rather less way than we could wish, while the current rendered the smack unmanageable. My eldest brotherhad a son eighteen years old, and I had two stout boys of myown. These would have been of great assistance at such times, in usingthe sweeps, as well as afterward in fishing--but, somehow, although weran the risk ourselves, we had not the heart to let the young ones getinto the danger--for, after all said and done, it _was_ a horribledanger, and that is the truth. 

"It is now within a few days of three years since what I am going totell you occurred. It was on the tenth of July, 18--, a day which thepeople of this part of the world will never forget--for it was one inwhich blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came out of theheavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed until late in theafternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze from the south-west, while the sun shone brightly, so that the oldest seamen among us couldnot have forseen what was to follow. 

"The three of us--my two brothers and myself--had crossed over to theislands about two o'clock P. M. , and soon nearly loaded the smack withfine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plenty that day than wehad ever known them. It was just seven, _by my watch, _ when we weighedand started for home, so as to make the worst of the Strom at slackwater, which we knew would be at eight. 

"We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for sometime spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of danger, forindeed we saw not the slightest reason to apprehend it. All at once wewere taken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. This was mostunusual--something that had never happened to us before--and I beganto feel a little uneasy, without exactly knowing why. We put the boaton the wind, but could make no headway at all for the eddies, and Iwas upon the point of proposing to return to the anchorage, when, looking astern, we saw the whole horizon covered with a singularcopper-colored cloud that rose with the most amazing velocity. 

"In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away, and wewere dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This state ofthings, however, did not last long enough to give us time to thinkabout it. In less than a minute the storm was upon us--in less thantwo the sky was entirely overcast--and what with this and the drivingspray, it became suddenly so dark that we could not see each other inthe smack. 

"Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describing. Theoldest seaman in Norway never experienced anything like it. We had letour sails go by the run before it cleverly took us; but, at the firstpuff, both our masts went by the board as if they had been sawedoff--the mainmast taking with it my youngest brother, who had lashedhimself to it for safety. 

"Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat uponwater. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near thebow, and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten down whenabout to cross the Strom, by way of precaution against the choppingseas. But for this circumstance we should have foundered at once--forwe lay entirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escapeddestruction I cannot say, for I never had an opportunity ofascertaining. For my part, as soon as I had let the foresail run, Ithrew myself flat on deck, with my feet against the narrow gunwale ofthe bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of theforemast. It was mere instinct that prompted me to do this--which wasundoubtedly the very best thing I could have done--for I was too muchflurried to think. 

"For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all thistime I held my breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could stand itno longer I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold with myhands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little boat gaveherself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water, andthus rid herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was now trying toget the better of the stupor that had come over me, and to collect mysenses so as to see what was to be done, when I felt somebody grasp myarm. It was my elder brother, and my heart leaped for joy, for I hadmade sure that he was overboard--but the next moment all this joy wasturned into horror--for he put his mouth close to my ear, and screamedout the word '_Moskoe-strom_!'

"No one-will ever know what my feelings were at that moment. I shookfrom head to foot as if I had had the most violent fit of the ague. Iknew what he meant by that one word well enough--I knew what he wishedto make me understand. With the wind that now drove us on, we werebound for the whirl of the Strom, and nothing could save us!

"You perceive that in crossing the Strom _channel_, we always went along way up above the whirl, even in the calmest weather, and then hadto wait and watch carefully for the slack--but now we were drivingright upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane as this! 'To besure, ' I thought, 'we shall get there just about the slack--there issome little hope in that--but in the next moment I cursed myself forbeing so great a fool as to dream of hope at all. I knew very wellthat we were doomed, had we been ten times a ninety-gun ship. 

"By this time the first fury of the tempest had spent itself, orperhaps we did not feel it so much as we scudded before it; but at allevents the seas, which at first had been kept down by the wind, andlay flat and frothing, now got up into absolute mountains. A singularchange, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every direction itwas still as black as pitch, but nearly overhead there burst out, allat once, a circular rift of clear sky--as clear as I ever saw--and ofa deep bright blue--and through it there blazed forth the full moonwith a lustre that I never before knew her to wear. She lit upeverything about us with the greatest distinctness--but, oh God, whata scene it was to light up!

"I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother--but, in somemanner which I could not understand, the din had so increased that Icould not make him hear a single word, although I screamed at the topof my voice in his ear. Presently he shook his head, looking as paleas death, and held up one of his fingers, as if to say _listen_!

"At first I could not make out what he meant--but soon a hideousthought flashed upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. It was notgoing. I glanced at its face by the moonlight, and then burst intotears as I flung it far away into the ocean. _It had run down at seveno'clock! We were behind the time of the slack, and the whirl of theStrom was in full fury!_

"When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and not deep laden, thewaves in a strong gale, when she is going large, seem always to slipfrom beneath her--which appears very strange to a landsman--and thisis what is called _riding_ in sea phrase. 

"Well, so far we had ridden the swells very cleverly; but presently agigantic sea happened to take us right under the counter, and bore uswith it as it rose--up--up--as if into the sky. I would not havebelieved that any wave could rise so high. And then down we came witha sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick and dizzy, asif I was falling from some lofty mountain-top in a dream. But while wewere up I had thrown a quick glance around--and that one glance wasall sufficient. I saw our exact position in an instant. TheMoskoe-strom whirlpool was about a quarter of a mile dead ahead--butno more like the every-day Moskoe-strom, than the whirl as you now seeit is like a mill-race. If I had not known where we were, and what wehad to expect, I should not have recognized the place at all. As itwas, I involuntarily closed my eyes in horror. The lids clenchedthemselves together as if in a spasm. 

"It could not have been more than two minutes afterwards until wesuddenly felt the waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. The boatmade a sharp half turn to larboard, and then shot off in its newdirection like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roaring noise ofthe water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek--such asound as you might imagine given out by the water-pipes of manythousand steam-vessels, letting off their steam all together. We werenow in the belt of surf that always surrounds the whirl; and Ithought, of course, that another moment would plunge us into theabyss--down which we could only see indistinctly on account of theamazing velocity with which we were borne along. The boat did not seemto sink into the water at all, but to skim like an air-bubble upon thesurface of the surge. Her starboard side was next the whirl, and onthe larboard arose the world of ocean we had left. It stood like ahuge writhing wall between us and the horizon. 

"It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the very jaws of thegulf, I felt more composed than when we were only approachingit. Having made up my mind to hope no more, I got rid of a great dealof that terror which unmanned me at first. I suppose it was despairthat strung my nerves. 

"It may look like boasting--but what I tell you is truth--I began toreflect how magnificent a thing it was to die in such a manner, andhow foolish it was in me to think of so paltry a consideration as myown individual life, in view of so wonderful a manifestation of God'spower. I do believe that I blushed with shame when this idea crossedmy mind. After a little while I became possessed with the keenestcuriosity about the whirl itself. I positively felt a _wish_ toexplore its depths, even at the sacrifice I was going to make; and myprincipal grief was that I should never be able to tell my oldcompanions on shore about the mysteries I should see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to occupy a man's mind in such extremity--and Ihave often thought, since, that the revolutions of the boat around thepool might have rendered me a little light-headed. 

"There was another circumstance which tended to restore myself-possession; and this was the cessation of the wind, which couldnot reach us in our present situation--for, as you saw yourself, thebelt of surf is considerably lower than the general bed of the ocean, and this latter now towered above us, a high, black, mountainousridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale, you can form noidea of the confusion of mind occasioned by the wind and spraytogether. They blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away allpower of action or reflection. But we were now, in a great measure, rid of these annoyances--just as death-condemned felons in prison areallowed petty indulgences, forbidden them while their doom is yetuncertain. 

"How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to say. Wecareered round and round for perhaps an hour, flying rather thanfloating, getting gradually more and more into the middle of thesurge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge. All thistime I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at stern, holding on to a small empty water-cask which had been securely lashedunder the coop of the counter, and was the only thing on deck that hadnot been swept overboard when the gale first took us. As we approachedthe brink of the pit he let go his hold upon this, and made for thering, from which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to forcemy hands, as it was not large enough to afford us both a securegrasp. I never felt deeper grief than when I saw him attempt thisact--although I new he was a madman when he did it--a raving maniacthrough sheer fright. I did not care, however, to contest the pointwith him. I knew it could make no diference whether either of us heldon at all; so I let him have the bolt, and went astern to thecask. This there was no great difficulty in doing; for the smack flewround steadily enough, and upon an even keel--only swaying to and fro, with the immense sweeps and swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had Isecured myself in my new position, when we gave a wild lurch tostarboard, and rushed headlong into the abyss. I muttered a hurriedprayer to God, and thought all was over. 

"As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I had instinctivelytightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For someseconds I dared not open them--while I expected instant destruction, and wondered that I was not already in my death-struggles with thewater. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. The sense offalling had ceased; and the motion of the vessel seemed much as it hadbeen before, while in the belt of foam, with the exception that shenow lay more along. I took courage and looked once again upon thescene. 

"Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admirationwith which I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be hanging, as if bymagic, midway down, upon the interior surface of a funnel vast incircumference, prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly smooth sidesmight have been mistaken for ebony, but for the bewildering rapiditywith which they spun around, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiancethey shot forth, as the rays of the full moon, from that circular riftamid the clouds, which I have already described, streamed in a floodof golden glory along the black walls, and far away down into theinmost recesses of the abyss. 

"At first I was too much confused to observe anything accurately. Thegeneral burst of terrific grandeur was all that I beheld. When Irecovered myself a little, however, my gaze fell instinctivelydownward. In this direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed view, from the manner in which the smack hung on the inclined surface of thepool. She was quite upon an even keel--that is to say, her deck lay ina plane parallel with that of the water--but this latter sloped at anangle of more than forty-five degrees, so that we seemed to be lyingupon our beam-ends. I could not help observing, nevertheless, that Ihad scarcely more difficulty in maintaining my hold and footing inthis situation, than if we had been upon a dead level; and this, Isuppose, was owing to the speed at which we revolved. 

"The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the profoundgulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on account of athick mist in which everything there was enveloped, and over whichthere hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and totteringbridge which Mussulmans say is the only pathway between Time andEternity. This mist, or spray, was no doubt occasioned by the clashingof the great walls of the funnel, as they all met together at thebottom--but the yell that went up to the heavens from out of thatmist, I dare not attempt to describe. 

"Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam above, had carried us to a great distance down the slope; but our fartherdescent was by no means proportionate. Round and round we swept--notwith any uniform movement but in dizzying swings and jerks, that sentus sometimes only a few hundred yards--sometimes nearly the completecircuit of the whirl. Our progress downward, at each revolution, wasslow, but very perceptible. 

"Looking about me upon the wide waste of liquid ebony on which we werethus borne, I perceived that our boat was not the only object in theembrace of the whirl. Both above and below us were visible fragmentsof vessels, large masses of building timber and trunks of trees, withmany smaller articles, such as pieces of house furniture, brokenboxes, barrels, and staves. I have already described the unnaturalcuriosity which had taken the place of my original terrors. Itappeared to grow upon me as I drew nearer and nearer to my dreadfuldoom. I now began to watch, with a strange interest, the numerousthings that floated in our company. I _must_ have been delirious--forI even sought _amusement_ in speculating upon the relative velocitiesof their several descents toward the foam below. 'This fir tree, ' Ifound myself at one time saying, 'will certainly be the next thingthat takes the awful plunge and disappears, '--and then I wasdisappointed to find that the wreck of a Dutch merchant ship overtookit and went down before. At length, after making several guesses ofthis nature, and being deceived in all--this fact--the fact of myinvariable miscalculation, set me upon a train of reflection that mademy limbs again tremble, and my heart beat heavily once more. 

"It was not a new terror that thus affected me, but the dawn of a moreexciting _hope_. This hope arose partly from memory, and partly frompresent observation. I called to mind the great variety of buoyantmatter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been absorbed andthen thrown forth by the Moskoe-strom. By far the greater number ofthe articles were shattered in the most extraordinary way--so chafedand roughened as to have the appearance of being stuck full ofsplinters--but then I distinctly recollected that there were _some_ ofthem which were not disfigured at all. Now I could not account forthis difference except by supposing that the roughened fragments werethe only ones which had been _completely absorbed_--that the othershad entered the whirl at so late a period of the tide, or, from somereason, had descended so slowly after entering, that they did notreach the bottom before the turn of the flood came, or of the ebb, asthe case might be. I conceived it possible, in either instance, thatthey might thus be whirled up again to the level of the ocean, withoutundergoing the fate of those which had been drawn in more early orabsorbed more rapidly. I made, also, three important observations. Thefirst was, that as a general rule, the larger the bodies were, themore rapid their descent; the second, that, between two masses ofequal extent, the one spherical, and the other _of any other shape, _the superiority in speed of descent was with the sphere; the third, that, between two masses of equal size, the one cylindrical, and theother of any other shape, the cylinder was absorbed the more slowly. Since my escape, I have had several conversations on this subject withan old schoolmaster of the district; and it was from him that Ilearned the use of the words 'cylinder' and 'sphere. ' He explained tome--although I have forgotten the explanation--how what I observedwas, in fact, the natural consequence of the forms of the floatingfragments, and showed me how it happened that a cylinder, swimming ina vortex, offered more resistance to its suction, and was drawn inwith greater difficulty, than an equally bulky body, of any formwhatever. [1]

[Footnote 1: See Archimedes, _De iis Ques in Humido Vehuntur_, libii. ]

"There was one startling circumstance which went a great way inenforcing these observations, and rendering me anxious to turn them toaccount, and this was that, at every revolution, we passed somethinglike a barrel, or else the yard or the mast of a vessel, while many ofthese things, which had been on our level when I first opened my eyesupon the wonders of the whirlpool, were now high up above us, andseemed to have moved but little from their original station. 

"I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securelyto the water cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose from thecounter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I attracted mybrother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels thatcame near us, and did everything in my power to make him understandwhat I was about to do. I thought at length that he comprehended mydesign--but, whether this was the case or not, he shook his headdespairingly, and refused to move from his station by the ring-bolt. It was impossible to reach him; the emergency admitted of no delay;and so, with a bitter struggle, I resigned him to his fate, fastenedmyself to the cask by means of the lashings which secured it to thecounter, and precipitated myself with it into the sea, without anothermoment's hesitation. 

"The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it ismyself who now tell you this tale--as you see that I _did_ escape--andas you are already in possession of the mode in which this escape waseffected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have farther tosay--I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It might have beenan hour, or thereabout, after my quitting the smack, when, havingdescended to a vast distance beneath me, it made three or four wildgyrations in rapid succession, and, bearing my loved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and forever, into the chaos of foambelow. The barrel to which I was attached sunk very little fartherthan half the distance between the bottom of the gulf and the spot atwhich I leaped overboard, before a great change took place in thecharacter of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast funnelbecame momently less and less steep. The gyrations of the whirl grew, gradually, less and less violent. By degrees, the froth and therainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly touprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and the full moonwas setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on the surfaceof the ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and above thespot where the pool of the Moskoe-strom _had been. _ It was the 20 hourof the slack, but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from theeffects of the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel ofthe Strom, and in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the'grounds' of the fishermen. A boat picked me up--exhausted fromfatigue--and (now that the danger was removed) speechless from thememory of its horror. Those who drew me on board were my old matesand daily companions, but they knew me no more than they would haveknown a traveller from the spirit-land. My hair, which had beenraven-black the day before, was as white as you see it now. They saytoo that the whole expression of my countenance had changed. I toldthem my story--they did not believe it. I now tell it to you--and Ican scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merryfishermen of Lofoden. "

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH

(NORTHERN ITALY)

The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence hadever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its avatar and itsseal--the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, withdissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body, and especially upon theface, of the victim were the pest ban which shut him out from the aidand from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress, and termination of the disease were the incidents of half anhour. 

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. Whenhis dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence athousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights anddames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion ofone of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificentstructure, the creation of the Prince's own eccentric yet augusttaste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates ofiron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massyhammers, and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither ofingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy fromwithin. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions thecourtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world couldtake care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or tothink. The Prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. Therewere buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these andsecurity were within. Without was the "Red Death. "

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

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell ofthe rooms in which it was held. There were seven--an imperialsuite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straightvista, while the folding-doors slide back nearly to the walls oneither hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcelyimpeded. Here the case was very different, as might have been expectedfrom the Prince's love of the bizarre. The apartments were soirregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than oneat a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middleof each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closedcorridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows wereof stained glass, whose color varied in accordance with the prevailinghue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That atthe eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue--and vividly bluewere its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments andtapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was greenthroughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished andlighted with orange, the fifth with white, the sixth with violet. Theseventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries thathung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy foldsupon a carpet of the same material and hue. But, in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet--a deep blood-color. Now in no one of theseven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusionof golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from theroof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candlewithin the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed thesuite there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing abrazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass andso glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude ofgaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamberthe effect of the firelight that streamed upon the dark hangingsthrough the blood-tinted panes was ghastly in the extreme, andproduced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who enteredthat there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within itsprecincts at all. 

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the westernwall a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with adull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made thecircuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came fromthe brazen lungs of the clock a sounct which was clear and loud anddeep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiars note and emphasisthat, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra wereconstrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken tothe sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; andthere was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while thechimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grewpale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their browsas if in confused revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fullyceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicianslooked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness andfolly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the nextchiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; andthen, after the lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three thousandand six hundred seconds of the Time that flies) there came yet anotherchiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert andtremulousness and meditation as before. 

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. Thetastes of the Prince were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors andeffects. He disregarded the _decora_ of mere fashion. His plans werebold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. Thereare some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that hewas not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be _sure_that he was not. 

He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of theseven chambers, upon occasion of this great _fete_; and it was his ownguiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be surethey were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancyand phantasm--much of what has been since seen in _Hernani_. Therewere arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. Therewere delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much ofthe beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something ofthe terrible, and not a little of that which might have exciteddisgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, amultitude of dreams. And these--the dreams--writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestrato seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebonyclock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. Thedreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime dieaway--they have endured but an instant--and a light, half-subduedlaughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the musicswells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily thanever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream therays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardlyof the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for thenight is waning away, and there flows a ruddier light through theblood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appalls;and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes fromthe near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than anywhich reaches _their_ ears who indulge in the more remote gayeties ofthe other apartments. 

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beatfeverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, untilat length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. Andthen the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of thewaltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all thingsas before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bellof the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thoughtcrept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful amongthose who revelled. And thus too it happened, perhaps, that before thelast echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, therewere many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to becomeaware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested theattention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this newpresence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose atlength from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive ofdisapprobation and surprise--then, finally, of terror, of horror, andof disgust. 

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well besupposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited suchsensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearlyunlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gonebeyond the bounds of even the Prince's indefinite decorum. There arechords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touchedwithout emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and deathare equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. Thewhole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costumeand bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. Thefigure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in thehabiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was madeso nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that theclosest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. Andyet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the madrevellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the typeof the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in _blood_--and his broadbrow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with thescarlet horror. 

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (whichwith a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its_role_, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to beconvulsed, in the first moment, with a strong shudder either of terroror distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage. 

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood nearhim--"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him andunmask him--that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from thebattlements!"

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

It was in the blue room where stood the Prince, with a group of palecourtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slightrushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, whoat the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate andstately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certainnameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspiredthe whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seizehim; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the Prince'sperson; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrankfrom the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his wayuninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which haddistinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to thepurple--through the purple to the green--through the green to theorange--through this again to the white--and even thence to theviolet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It wasthen, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and theshame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the sixchambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror thathad seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreatingfigure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvetapartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was asharp cry--and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the PrinceProspero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of therevellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionlesswithin the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror atfinding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which they handledwith so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form. 

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had comelike a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in theblood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairingposture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out withthat of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominionover all. 

THE GOLD BUG

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

Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but aseries of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid themortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, thecity of his fore-fathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan'sIsland, near Charleston, South Carolina. 

This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else thanthe sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no pointexceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by ascarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness ofreeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of anymagnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where FortMoultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted during summer by the fugitives from Charleston dust andfever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the wholeisland, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hardwhite beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth ofthe sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, andforms an almost impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with itsfragrance. 

In the utmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern ormore remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made hisacquaintance. This soon ripened into, friendship--for there was muchin the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him welleducated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed them. His chiefamusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach andthrough the myrtles in quest of shells or entomologicalspecimens;--his collection of the latter might have been envied by aSwammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an oldnegro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted before the reverses ofthe family, but who could be induced, neither by threats nor bypromises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance uponthe footsteps of his young "Massa Will. " It is not improbable that therelatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled inintellect, had contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with aview to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer. 

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom verysevere, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when afire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18--, thereoccurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunsetI scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks--my residence being at thattime in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, whilethe facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind those ofthe present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and, getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it wassecreted, unlocked the door and went in. A fine fire was blazing uponthe hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. Ithrew off an overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, andawaited patiently the arrival of my hosts. 

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordialwelcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to preparesome marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how elseshall I term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down andsecured, with Jupiter's assistance, a _scarabaeus_ which he believed tobe totally new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinionon the morrow. 

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

"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's solong since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me avisit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I metLieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him thebug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until themorning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it atsunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!"

"What?--sunrise?"

"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about thesize of a large hickory-nut--with two jet black spots near oneextremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The_antennae_ are--"

"Dey aint _no_ tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you, " hereinterrupted 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 mylife. "

"Well, suppose it is, Jup, " replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded, "is that any reason for yourletting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned to me--"is reallyalmost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a morebrilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit--but of this you cannotjudge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea of theshape. " Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which werea pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but foundnone. 

"Never mind, " said he at length, "this will answer;" and he drew fromhis 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, Iretained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the designwas complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, alow growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiteropened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shownhim much attention during previous visits. When his gambols wereover, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself nota little puzzled at what my friend had depicted. 

"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this _is_ astrange _scarabaeus_, I must confess; new to me: never saw anythinglike it before--unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, which itmore nearly resembles than anything else that has come under _my_observation. "

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

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

"We'll, I don't know, " said he, a little nettled, "I drawtolerably--_should_ do it at least--have had good masters, and flattermyself that I am not quite a blockhead. "

"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then, " said I; "this is a verypassable _skull_, --indeed, I may say that it is a very _excellent_skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens ofphysiology--and your _scarabaeus_ must be the queerest _scarabaeus_in the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrillingbit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug_scarabaeus caput hominis_, or something of that kind--there aremany similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the_antennae_ you spoke of?" "The _antennae_!" said Legrand, who seemedto be getting unaccountably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you mustsee the _antennae_. I made them as distinct as they are in theoriginal insect, and I presume that is sufficient. "

"Well, well, " I said, "perhaps you have--still I don't see them;" andI handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing toruffle his temper, but I was much surprised at the turn affairs hadtaken; his ill humor puzzled me--and as for the drawing of thebeetle, there were positively _no antennae_ visible, and the whole_did_ bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts of adeath'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 designseemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grewviolently red--in another as excessively pale. For some minutes hecontinued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At lengthhe arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himselfupon a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here again hemade an anxious examination of the paper; turning it in alldirections. He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatlyastonished me; yet I thought it prudent not to exacerbate the growingmoodiness of his temper by any comment. Presently he took from hiscoat pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and depositedboth in a writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed inhis demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quitedisappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As theevening wore away he became more and more absorbed in revery, fromwhich no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my intention topass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He didnot press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with evenmore than his usual cordiality. 

It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seennothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from hisman, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend. 

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

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

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

"Dar! dat's it!--him neber plain of notin--but him berry sick for alldat. "

"_Very_ sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he confinedto bed?"

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

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

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

"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"

"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs Iebber did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keepmighty tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip fore desun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stickready cut for to gib him d------d good beating when he did come--butIse sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all--he look so berrypoorly. "

"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be toosevere with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't verywell stand it--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned thisillness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasanthappened since I saw you?"

"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant _since_ den--it 'twas_fore_ den I'm feared--'twas de berry day you was dare. "

"How? what do you mean?"

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

"The what?"

"De bug--I'm berry sartin dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout dehead 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 d------dbug--he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Willcotch him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tellyou--den was de time he must ha got de bite. I didn't like de look obde bug mouff, myself, no how, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid myfinger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him upin de paper and stuff piece of it in he mouff--dat was de way. "

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

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

"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate circumstanceam I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to-day?"

"What de matter, massa?"

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

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

"MY DEAR ----, Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope youhave 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 somethingto tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether I shouldtell it at all. 

"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jupannoys me, almost beyond endurance, 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 theday, _solus_, among the hills on the mainland. I verily believe thatmy 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. "

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

Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, allapparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were toembark. 

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

"Him syfe, massa, and spade. "

"Very true; but what are they doing here?

"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him inde 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 _I_ know, and debbil take me if I don't blieve 'tismore dan he know, too. But it's all cum ob de bug. "

Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whosewhole intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug, " I now stepped intothe boat and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran intothe little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of sometwo miles brought us to the hut. It was about three in the afternoonwhen we arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped my hand with a nervous _empressement_, which alarmed me andstrengthened the suspicions already entertained. His countenance waspale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnaturallustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, notknowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the _scarabaeus_from Lieutenant G----. 

"Oh, yes, " he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the nextmorning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that _scarabaeus_. Doyou 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 airof profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked. 

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

"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug--you musgit him for your own self. " Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave andstately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which itwas enclosed. It was a beautiful _scarabaeus_, and, at that time, unknown to naturalists--of course a great prize in a scientific pointof view. There were two round, black spots near one extremity of theback, and a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hardand glossy, with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight ofthe insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things intoconsideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respectingit; but what to make of Legrand's agreement with that opinion, I couldnot, for the life of me, tell. 

"I sent for you, " said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I hadcompleted my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you that I mighthave your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate andof the bug--"

"My dear Legrand, " I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainlyunwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go tobed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get overthis. You are feverish and--"

"Feel my pulse, " said he. 

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

"But you may be ill, and yet have no fever. Allow me this once toprescribe 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 beunder the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, youwill relieve this excitement. "

"And how is this to be done?"

"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into thehills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall need theaid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the only one we cantrust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you nowperceive in me will be equally allayed. "

"I am anxious to oblige you in any way, " I replied; "but do you meanto say that this infernal beetle has any connection with yourexpedition 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 doyou propose to be absent?"

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

"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak ofyours is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to yoursatisfaction, you will then return home and follow my adviceimplicitly, 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 fouro'clock--Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with himthe scythe and spades--the whole of which he insisted upon carrying, more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of theimplements within reach of his master, than from any excess ofindustry or complaisance His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and"dat d----d bug" were the sole words which escaped his lips during thejourney. For my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand contented himself with the _scarabaeus, _ which hecarried attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to andfro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I observed thislast, plain evidence of my friend's aberation of mind, I couldscarcely refrain from tears. I thought it best, however, to humor hisfancy, at least for the present, or until I could adopt some moreenergetic measures with a chance of success. In the meantime Iendeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in regard to the object ofthe expedition. Having succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, heseemed unwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of minorimportance, and to all my questions vouchsafed no other reply than "weshall see!"

We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of the mainland, proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through a tract of countryexcessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep wasto be seen. Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for aninstant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be certainlandmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion. 

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was justsetting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yetseen. It was a species of tableland, near the summit of an almostinaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, andinterspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon thesoil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselvesinto the valleys below merely by the support of the trees againstwhich they reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an airof still sterner solemnity to the scene. 

The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrownwith brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would havebeen impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, bydirection of his master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the footof an enormously tall tulip tree, which stood, with some eight or tenoaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and all other treeswhich I had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, inthe wide spread of its branches, and in the general majesty of itsappearance. When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, andasked him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a littlestaggered by the question, and for some moments made no reply. Atlength he approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, andexamined it with minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said:

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

"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark tosee 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 togo--and here--stop! take this beetle with you. "

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

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

"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently shamed intocompliance; "always want fur to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was onlyfunnin anyhow. _Me_ feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?" Here hetook cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, maintaining the insect as far from his person as circumstances wouldpermit, prepared to ascend the tree. 

In youth, the tulip tree, or _Liriodendron Tulipifera_, the mostmagnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, andoften rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in itsriper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short limbsmake their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracingthe huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and resting his naked toesupon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, atlength wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed toconsider the whole business as virtually accomplished. The _risk_ ofthe achievement was, in fact, now over, although the climber was somesixty 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. Thenegro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble, ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat figurecould 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 detree. "

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

"One, two, tree, four, fibe--I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon disside. "

"Then go one limb higher. "

In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that theseventh limb was attained. 

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

By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poorfriend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but toconclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxiousabout getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to bedone, Jupiter's voice was again heard. 

"Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far--'tis dead limb puttymuch all de way. "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"By yourself?--what do you mean?"

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

"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, "what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as youlet that beetle fall, I'll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter! doyou 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 youthink safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present of asilver dollar as soon as you get down. "

"I'm gwine, Massa Will--deed I is, " replied the negro verypromptly--"mos out to the eend now. "

"_Out to the end!_" here fairly screamed Legrand, "do you say you areout to the end of that limb?"

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

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

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

"A skull, you say!--very well!--how is it fastened to the limb?--whatholds it on?"

"Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why, dis berry curous sarcumstance, ponmy word--dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on tode 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, dar ain't no eye lef at all. "

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

Yes, I nose dat--nose all bout dat--'tis my lef hand what I chops dewood wid. "

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

Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked, "Is de lef eye of deskull pon de same side as de lef hand of de skull, too?--cause deskull ain't got not a bit ob a hand at all--nebber mind! I got de lefeye now--here de lef eye! what mus do wid it?"

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

"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru dehole--look out for him dar below!"

During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could be seen; butthe beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible at theend of the string, and glistened like a globe of burnished gold in thelast rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly illuminedthe eminence upon which we stood. The _scarabaeus_ hung quite clear ofany branches, and, if allowed to fall, would have fallen at ourfeet. Legrand immediately took the scythe, and cleared with it acircular space, three or four yards in diameter, just beneath theinsect, and, having accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go thestring and come down from the tree. 

Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground at the precise spotwhere the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket atape-measure. Fastening one end of this at that point of the trunk ofthe tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached thepeg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction alreadyestablished by the two points of the tree and the peg, for thedistance of fifty feet--Jupiter clearing away the brambles with thescythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, and aboutthis, as a centre, a rude circle, about four feet in diameter, described. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one to Jupiter andone to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging as quickly aspossible. 

To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at anytime, and, at that particular moment, would most willingly havedeclined it; for the night was coming on, and I felt much fatiguedwith the exercise already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, and wasfearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. CouldI have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would have had nohesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but I wastoo well assured of the old negro's disposition to hope that he wouldassist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest with hismaster. I made no doubt that the latter had been infected with some ofthe innumerable Southern superstitions about money buried, and thathis fantasy had received confirmation by the finding of the_scarabaeus_, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinacy in maintaining it tobe "a bug of real gold. " A mind disposed to lunacy would readily beled away by such suggestions, especially if chiming in with favoritepreconceived ideas; and then I called to mind the poor fellow's speechabout the beetle's being "the index of his fortune. " Upon the whole, Iwas sadly vexed and puzzled, but at length I concluded to make avirtue of necessity--to dig with a good will, and thus the sooner toconvince the visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of theopinions he entertained. 

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

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; and our chiefembarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceedinginterest in our proceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperousthat we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in thevicinity; or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand; formyself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might haveenabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, at length, veryeffectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole with adogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth up with one of hissuspenders, and then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his task. 

When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of fivefeet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A generalpause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. Legrand, however, although evidently much disconcerted, wiped his browthoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the entire circle offour feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, and wentto the farther depth of two feet. Still nothing appeared. Thegold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length clambered from thepit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his coat, which hehad thrown off at the beginning of his labor. In the meantime I madeno remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began to gather uphis tools. This done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned inprofound silence towards home. 

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

"You scoundrel, " said Legrand, hissing out the syllables from betweenhis clenched teeth--"you infernal black villain!--speak, I tellyou!--answer me this instant, without prevarication!--which--which isyour left eye?"

"Oh, my golly, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for sartain?"roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his _right_ organof vision, and holding it there with a desperate pertinacity, as if inimmediate dread of his master's attempt at a gouge. 

"I thought so! I knew it! Hurrah!" vociferated Legrand, letting thenegro go, and executing a series of curvets and caracoles, much to theastonishment of his valet, who, arising from his knees, looked mutelyfrom 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;" andhe again led the way to the tulip tree. 

"Jupiter, " said he, when we reached its foot, "come here! Was theskull nailed to the limb with the face outward, or with the face tothe 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 thebeetle?" here Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes. 

"'Twas dis eye, massa--de lef eye--jis as you tell me, " and here itwas 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 spotwhere the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the westward ofits former position. Taking, now, the tape-measure from the nearestpoint of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing the extensionin a straight line to the distance of fifty feet, a spot wasindicated, removed, by several yards, from the point at which we hadbeen digging. 

Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the formerinstance, was now described, and we again set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully weary, but, scarcely understanding what hadoccasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any greataversion from the labor imposed. I had become most unaccountablyinterested--nay, even excited. Perhaps there was something, amid allthe extravagant demeanor of Legrand--some air of forethought, or ofdeliberation--which impressed me. I dug eagerly, and now and thencaught myself actually looking, with something that very muchresembled expectation, for the fancied treasure, the vision of whichhad demented my unfortunate companion. At a period when such vagariesof thought most fully possessed me, and when we had been at workperhaps an hour and a half, we were again interrupted by the violenthowlings of the dog. His uneasiness, in the first instance, had beenevidently but the result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumeda bitter and serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzlehim, he made furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore upthe mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he haduncovered a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, intermingled with several buttons of metal, and what appeared to bethe dust of decayed woollen. One or two strokes of a spade upturnedthe blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as he dug farther, three orfour loose pieces of gold and silver coin came to light. 

At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, butthe countenance of his master wore an air of extremedisappointment. He urged us, however, to continue our exertions, andthe words were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, havingcaught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half buriedin the loose earth. 

We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of moreintense excitement. During this interval we had fairly unearthed anoblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation andwonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizingprocess--perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was threefeet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half feetdeep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted, andforming a kind of trellis-work over the whole. On each side of thechest, near the top, were three rings of iron--six in all--by means ofwhich a firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost unitedendeavors served only to disturb the coffer very slightly in itsbed. We at once saw the impossibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two slidingbolts. These we drew back--trembling and panting with anxiety. In aninstant, a treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming before us. Asthe rays of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upwards, from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, a glow and a glare thatabsolutely dazzled our eyes. 

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which Igazed. Amazement was, of course, predominant. Legrand appearedexhausted with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter'scountenance wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor as it ispossible, in the nature of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed stupified--thunder-stricken. Presently he fell upon hisknees in the pit, and, burying his naked arms up to the elbows ingold, let them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a bath. Atlength, 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 littlegoole-bug, what I boosed in dat sabage kind ob style! Aint you shamedob yourself, nigger?--answer me dat!"

It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both master andvalet to the expediency of removing the treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved us to make exertion, that we might get everythinghoused before daylight. It was difficult to say what should be done, and much time was spent in deliberation--so confused were the ideas ofall. We finally lightened the box by removing two-thirds of itscontents, when we were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it fromthe hole. The articles taken out were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiterneither, upon any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open hismouth until our return. We then hurriedly made for home with thechest; reaching the hut in safety, but after excessive toil, at oneo'clock in the morning. Worn out as we were, it was not in humannature to do more just now. We rested until two, and had supper;starting for the hills immediately afterwards, armed with three stoutsacks, which by good luck were upon the premises. A little before fourwe arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, as equallyas might be, among us, and, leaving the holes unfilled, again set outfor the hut, at which, for the second time, we deposited our goldenburdens, just as the first streaks of the dawn gleamed from over thetree-tops in the East. 

We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense excitement of thetime denied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of some three or fourhours' duration, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make examination ofour treasure. 

The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the whole day, andthe greater part of the next night, in a scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement. Everything had beenheaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with care, we foundourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at firstsupposed. In coin there was rather more than four hundred and fiftythousand dollars: estimating the value of the pieces, as accurately aswe could, by the tables of the period. There was not a particle ofsilver. All was gold of antique date and of great variety: French, Spanish, and German money, with a few English guineas, and somecounters, of which we had never seen specimens before. There wereseveral very large and heavy coins, so worn that we could make nothingof their inscriptions. There was no American money. The value of thejewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There werediamonds--some of them exceedingly large and fine--a hundred and tenin all, and not one of them small; eighteen rubies of remarkablebrilliancy; three hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful; andtwenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been brokenfrom their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settingsthemselves, which we picked out from among the other gold, appeared tohave been beaten up with hammers, as if to prevent identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments:nearly two hundred massive finger and ear-rings; rich chains--thirtyof these, if I remember; eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes;five gold censers of great value; a prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures;with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other smallerarticles which I cannot recollect. The weight of these valuablesexceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; and in thisestimate I have not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb goldwatches; three of the number being worth each five hundred dollars, ifone. Many of them were very old, and as time-keepers valueless, theworks having suffered more or less from corrosion; but all were richlyjewelled and in cases of great worth. We estimated the entire contentsof the chest, that night, at a million and a half of dollars; and, upon the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few beingretained for our own use), it was found that we had greatlyundervalued the treasure. 

When, at length, we had concluded our examination, and the intenseexcitement of the time had in some measure subsided, Legrand, who sawthat I was dying with impatience for a solution of this mostextraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all thecircumstances connected with it. 

"You remember, " said he, "the night when I handed you the rough sketchI had made of the _scarabaeus_. You recollect, also, that I becamequite vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled adeath's-head. When you first made this assertion I thought you werejesting; but afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on theback of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had somelittle foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic powersirritated me--for I am considered a good artist--and, therefore, whenyou handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up andthrow 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 supposedit to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it, atonce, to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, youremember. Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glancefell upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you mayimagine my astonishment when I perceived, in, fact, the figure of adeath's-head just where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing ofthe 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--althoughthere was a certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took acandle and, seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded toscrutinize the parchment more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw myown sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity ofoutline--at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that, unknown to me, there should have been a skull upon the other side ofthe parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the _scarabaeus_, andthat this skull, not only in outline, but in size, should so closelyresemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidenceabsolutely stupified me for a time. This is the usual effect of suchcoincidences. The mind struggles to establish a connection--a sequenceof cause and effect--and, being unable to do so, suffers a species oftemporary paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, theredawned upon me gradually a conviction which startled me even far morethan the coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to rememberthat there had been _no_ drawing on the parchment when I made mysketch of the _scarabaeus_. I became perfectly certain of this; for Irecollected turning up first one side and then the other, in search ofthe cleanest spot. Had the skull been then there, of course I couldnot have failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I feltit impossible to explain; but, even at that early moment, there seemedto glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers of myintellect, a glow-worm-like conception of that truth which lastnight's adventure brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I aroseat once, and, putting the parchment securely away, dismissed allfarther reflection until I should be alone. 

"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook myselfto a more methodical investigation of the affair. In the first place Iconsidered the manner in which the parchment had come into mypossession. The spot where we discovered the _scarabaeus_ was on thecoast of the mainland, about a mile eastward of the island, and but ashort distance above high-water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, itgave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupiter, withhis accustomed caution, before seizing the insect, which had flowntowards 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, andmine also, fell upon the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed tobe paper. It was lying half-buried in the sand, a corner stickingup. Near the spot where we found it, I observed the remnants of thehull of what appeared to have been a ship's long boat. The wreckseemed to have been there for a very great while; for the resemblanceto boat timbers could scarcely be traced. 

"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, andgave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on the waymet Lieutenant G----. I showed him the insect, and he begged me tolet him take it to the fort. On my consenting, he thrust it forthwithinto his waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which it had beenwrapped, and which I had continued to hold in my hand during hisinspection. Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and thought itbest to make sure of the prize at once--you know how enthusiastic heis on all subjects connected with Natural History. At the same time, without being conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment inmy own pocket. 

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

"No doubt you will think me fanciful--but I had already established akind of _connection_. I had put together two links of a great chain. There was a boat lying on a seacoast, and not far from the boat was aparchment--_not a paper_--with a skull depicted on it. You will, ofcourse, ask 'where is the connection?' I reply that the skull, ordeath's-head, is the well-known emblem of the pirate. The flag of thedeath's-head is hoisted in all engagements. 

"I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not paper. Parchmentis durable--almost imperishable. Matters of little moment are rarelyconsigned to parchment; since, for the mere ordinary purposes ofdrawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper. Thisreflection suggested some meaning--some relevancy--in the deaths-head. I did not fail to observe, also, the _form_ of the parchment. Althoughone of its corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it could beseen that the original form was oblong. It was just such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosen for a memorandum--for a record ofsomething to be long remembered and carefully preserved. "

"But, " I interposed, "you say that the skull, was _not_ upon theparchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do youtrace any connection between the boat and the skull--since thislatter, according to your own admission, must have been designed (Godonly knows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your sketchingthe _scarabaeus_?"

"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the secret, at thispoint, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps weresure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, for example, thus: When I drew the _scarabaeus, _ there was no skull apparent on theparchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave it to you, andobserved you narrowly until you returned it. _You_, therefore, did notdesign the skull, and no one else was present to do it. Then it wasnot done by human agency. And nevertheless it was done. 

"At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remember, and _did_remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurredabout the period in question. The weather was chilly (O rare and happyaccident!), and a fire was blazing on the hearth. I was heated withexercise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn a chair closeto the chimney. Just as I placed the parchment in your hand, and asyou were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed himand kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment, waspermitted, to fall listlessly between your knees, and in closeproximity to the fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caughtit, and was about to caution you, but, before I could speak, you hadwithdrawn it, and were engaged in its examination. When I consideredall these particulars, I doubted not for a moment that _heat_ had beenthe agent in bringing to light, on the parchment, the skull which Isaw designed on it. You are well aware that chemical preparationsexist, and have existed time out of mind, by means of which it ispossible to write on either paper or vellum, so that the charactersshall become visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in _aqua regia_, and diluted with four times itsweight of water, is sometimes employed; a green tint results. Theregulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a red. Thesecolors disappear at longer or shorter intervals after the materialwritten upon cools, but again become apparent upon the re-applicationof heat. 

"I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its outer edges--theedges of the drawing nearest the edge of the vellum--were far more_distinct_ than the others. It was clear that the action of thecaloric had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, and subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. Atfirst, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint lines in theskull; but, on persevering in the experiment, there became visible atthe corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which thedeath's-head was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed tobe a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it wasintended for a kid. "

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

"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. "You may have heardof one _Captain_ Kidd. I at once looked on the figure of the animal asa kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature, because its position on the vellum suggested this idea. Thedeath's-head at the corner diagonally opposite had, in the samemanner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put out by theabsence of all else--of the body to my imagined instrument--of thetext for my context. "

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

"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly impressedwith a presentiment of some vast good fortune impending. I canscarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire than anactual belief;--but do you know that Jupiter's silly words, about thebug being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect on my fancy? And thenthe series of accidents and coincidences--these were so _very_extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it was that theseevents should have occurred on the _sole_ day of all the year in whichit has been, or may be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that withoutthe fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the precise momentin which he appeared, I should never have become aware of thedeath's-head, and so never the possessor of the treasure?"

"But proceed--I am all impatience. "

"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current--thethousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere on theAtlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates. These rumors must havehad some foundation in fact. And that the rumors have existed so longand so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me, only fromthe circumstance of the buried treasure still _remaining_ entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for a time, and afterwards reclaimedit, the rumors would scarcely have reached us in their presentunvarying form. You will observe that the stories told are all aboutmoney-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate recovered hismoney, there the affair would have dropped. It seemed to me that someaccident--say the loss of a memorandum indicating its locality--haddeprived him of the means of recovering it, and that this accident hadbecome known to his followers, who otherwise might never have heardthat treasure had been concealed at all, and who, busying themselvesin vain, because unguided, attempts to regain it, had given firstbirth, and then universal currency, to the reports which are now socommon. Have you ever heard of any important treasure being unearthedalong the coast?"

"Never. "

"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense is well known. I took itfor granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you willscarcely be surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearlyamounting to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found involveda lost record of the place of deposit. "

"But how did you proceed?"

"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat, butnothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating of dirtmight have something to do with the failure; so I carefully rinsed theparchment by pouring warm water over it, and, having done this, Iplaced it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the pan upona furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having becomethoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, with what appeared to be figuresarranged in lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it toremain another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just as yousee it now. "

Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, submitted it to myinspection. The following characters were rudely traced, in a redtint, between the death's-head and the goat:--

53YYy305))6*;4826)4Y. )4Y);806*;48y8P60))85;;]8*;:Y*8y83(88)5*y;46(;88*96*?;8)*Y(;485);5*Y2:*Y(;4956*2(5*--4)8P8*;4069285);)6y8)4YY;1(Y9;48081;8:8Y1;48y85;4)485y528806*81(Y9;48;(88;4(Y?34;48)4Y;161;:188;Y?;

"But, " said I, returning him the slip, "I am as much in the dark asever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting me on my solution ofthis 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 asyou might be led to imagine from the first hasty inspection of thecharacters. These characters, as any one might readily guess, form acipher--that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then, from what isknown of Kidd, I could not suppose, him capable of constructing any ofthe more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my mind, at once, that thiswas of a simple species--such, however, as would appear, to the crudeintellect of the sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key. "

"And you really solved it?"

"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand timesgreater. Circumstances, and a certain bias of mind, have led me totake interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whetherhuman ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which humaningenuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, havingonce established connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave athought to the mere difficulty of developing their import. 

"In the present case--indeed in all cases of secret writing--the firstquestion regards the _language_ of the cipher; for the principles ofsolution, so far, especially, as the more simple ciphers areconcerned, depend on, and are varied by, the genius of the particularidiom. In general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed byprobabilities) of every tongue known to him who attempts the solution, until the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now before us, all difficulty is removed by the signature. The pun upon the word'Kidd' is appreciable in no other language than the English. But forthis consideration I should have begun my attempts with the Spanishand French, as the tongues in which a secret of this kind would mostnaturally have been written by a pirate of the Spanish main. As itwas, I assumed the cryptograph to be English. 

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

Of the character 8 there are 33 ; " 26 4 " 19 Y) " 16 * " 13 5 " 12 6 " 11 y1 " 8 0 " 6 92 " 5 :3 " 4 ? " 3 P " 2 ] " 1

"Now, in English, the letter which most frequently occurs is _e_. Afterwards the succession runs thus: _a o i d h n r s t u y c f g l mw b k p q x z. E_ predominates, however, so remarkably that anindividual sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is notthe prevailing character. 

"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork forsomething more than a mere guess. The general use which may be made ofthe table is obvious--but, in this particular cipher, we shall onlyvery partially require its aid. As our predominant character is 8, wewill commence by assuming it as the _e_ of the natural alphabet. Toverify the supposition, let us observe if the 8 be seen often incouples--for _e_ is doubled with great frequency in English--in suchwords, for example, as 'meet, ' 'fleet, ' 'speed, ' 'seen, ' 'been, ''agree, ' etc. In the present instance we see it doubled no less thanfive times, although the cryptograph is brief. 

"Let us assume 8, then, as _e_. Now, of all _words_ in the language, 'the' is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are notrepetitions 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 represent the word 'the. ' Oninspection, we find no less than seven such arrangements, thecharacters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume that the semicolonrepresents _t_, that 4 represents _h_, and that 8 represents _e_--thelast being now well confirmed. Thus a great step has been taken. 

"But, having established a single word, we are enabled to establish avastly important point; that is to say, several commencements andterminations of other words. Let us refer, for example, to the lastinstance but one, in which combination ;48 occurs--not far from theend of the cipher. We know that the semicolon immediately ensuing isthe commencement of a word, and, of the six characters succeeding this'the, ' we are cognizant of no less than five. Let us set thesecharacters down, thus, by the letters we know them to represent, leaving a space for the unknown--

 t eeth

"Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the '_th_, ' as forming noportion of the word commencing with the first _t_; since, byexperiment 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 apart. We are thus narrowed into

 t ee, and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we arrive atthe word 'tree' as the sole possible reading. We thus gain anotherletter _r_, represented by (, with the words 'the tree' injuxtaposition. 

"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we again see thecombination ;48, and employ it by way of _termination_ to whatimmediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement:

 the tree ;4(Y?34 the, or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus:

 the tree thrY?3h the. 

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

 the tree thr . . . H the, when the word '_through_' makes itself evident at once. But thisdiscovery gives us three new letters, _o, u_, and _g_, represented byY ? and 3. 

"Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations of knowncharacters, we find, not very far from the beginning, thisarrangement, 83(88, or egree, which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree, ' and gives usanother letter, _d_, represented by y. 

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

 ;46(;88*

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

 th . Rtee, an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 'thirteen, ' andagain furnishing us with two new characters, _i_ and _n_, representedby 6 and *. 

"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, we find thecombination, 53YYy, "Translating as before, we obtain

 good, which assures us that the first letter is _A_, and that the first twowords are 'A good. '

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

5 represents ay " d8 " e3 " g4 " h6 " i* " nY " o( " r; " t

"We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most important lettersrepresented, and it will be unnecessary to proceed with the details ofthe solution. I have said enough to convince you that ciphers of thisnature are readily soluble, and to give you some insight into therationale of their development. But be assured that the specimenbefore us appertains to the very simplest species of cryptograph. Itnow only remains to give you the full translation of the charactersupon the parchment, 5 as unriddled. Here it is:

"'_A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat twenty-onedegrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branchseventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the death's-head abee line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out_. '"

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

"I confess, " replied Legrand, "that the matter still wears a seriousaspect, when regarded with a casual glance. My first endeavor was todivide the sentence into the natural division intended by thecryptographist. "

"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 hiswords together without division, so as to increase the difficulty ofsolution. Now, a not over-acute man, in pursuing such an object, would be nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the course ofhis composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which wouldnaturally require a pause, or a point, he would be exceedingly apt torun his characters, at this place, more than usually closetogether. If you will observe the MS. , in the present instance, youwill easily detect five such cases of unusual crowding. Acting on thishint, I made the division thus:

"'_A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat--twenty-onedegrees and thirteen minutes--northeast and by north--main branchseventh limb east side--shoot from the left eye of the deaths-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 inquiry, in the neighborhood ofSullivan's Island, for any building which went by the name of the'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word'hostel. ' Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the point ofextending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more systematicmanner, when one morning it entered into my head, quite suddenly, thatthis 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some reference to an old family, ofthe name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held possession of anancient manor-house, about four miles to the northward of theisland. I accordingly went over to the plantation, and reinstituted myinquiries among the older negroes of the place. At length one of themost 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 thatit was not a castle, nor a tavern, but a high rock. 

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

"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell on a narrow ledge inthe eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit uponwhich I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was notmore than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just above it gaveit a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by ourancestors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devil's seat' alluded toin 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 atelescope; for the word 'glass' is rarely employed in any other senseby seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and adefinite point of view, _admitting no variation_, from which to useit. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, 'twenty-onedegrees and thirteen minutes, ' and 'northeast and by north, ' wereintended as directions for the levelling of the glass. Greatly excitedby these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, andreturned to the rock. 

"I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible toretain a seat on it unless in one particular position. This factconfirmed my preconceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Ofcourse, the 'twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude tonothing but elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontaldirection was clearly indicated by the words, 'northeast and bynorth. ' This latter direction I at once established by means of apocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle oftwenty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved itcautiously up or down, until my attention was arrested by a circularrift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that over-topped itsfellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived awhite spot, but could not, at first, distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made itout to be a human skull. 

"On this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the enigma solved;for the phrase 'main branch, seventh limb, east side, ' could referonly to the position of the skull on the tree, while 'shoot from theleft eye of the death's-head' admitted, also, of but oneinterpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceivedthat 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 fromthe nearest point of the trunk through 'the shot' (or the spot wherethe bullet fell), and thence extended to a distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point--and beneath this point I thought itat least _possible_ that a deposit of value lay concealed. "

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

"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turnedhomewards. The instant that I left 'the devil's seat, ' however, thecircular rift vanished; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this wholebusiness, is the fact (for repeated experiment has convinced me it_is_ a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible from noother attainable point of view than that afforded by the narrow ledgeon the face of the rock. 

"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended byJupiter, who had no doubt observed, for some weeks past, theabstraction of my demeanor, and took especial care not to leave mealone. But on the next day, getting up very early, I contrived to givehim the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. Aftermuch toil I found it. When I came home at night my valet proposed togive me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I believe you areas well acquainted as myself. "

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

"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about two inches and ahalf in the 'shot'--that is to say, in the position of the peg nearestthe tree; and had the treasure been _beneath_ the 'shot, ' the errorwould have been of little moment; but 'the shot, ' together with thenearest point of the tree, were merely two points for theestablishment of a line of direction; of course the error, howevertrivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, and, by the time we had gone fifty feet, threw us quite off thescent. But for my deep-seated convictions that treasure was heresomewhere actually buried, we might have had all our labor in vain. "

"I presume the fancy of _the skull_--of letting fall a bullet throughthe skull's eye--was suggested to Kidd by the piratical flag. No doubthe felt a kind of poetical consistency in recovering his money throughthis ominous insignium. "

"Perhaps so; still, I cannot help thinking that common sense had quiteas much to do with the matter as poetical consistency. To be visiblefrom the devil's seat, it was necessary that the object, if small, should be _white_; and there is nothing like your human skull forretaining and even increasing its whiteness under exposure to allvicissitudes of weather. "

"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swinging the beetle--howexcessively odd! I was sure you were mad. And why did you insist onletting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull?"

"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your evident suspicionstouching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you quietly, in my ownway, by a little bit of sober mystification. For this reason I swungthe beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from the tree. Anobservation of yours about its great weight suggested the latteridea. "

"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzlesme. 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. Thereseems, however, only one plausible way of accounting for them--and yetit is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion wouldimply. It is clear that Kidd--if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, which I doubt not--it is clear 30 that he must have had assistance inthe labor. But, the worst of this labor concluded, he may have thoughtit expedient to remove all participants in his secret. Perhaps acouple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutorswere busy in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen--who shall tell?"

THE PURLOINED LETTER

 Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio. SENECA

At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of 18--, Iwas enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation and a meerschaum, incompany with my friend C. Auguste Dupin, in his little back library, or book closet, _au troisieme_, No. 33, Rue Dunot, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we had maintained a profound silence;while each, to any casual observer, might have seemed intently andexclusively occupied with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressedthe atmosphere of the chamber. For myself, however, I was mentallydiscussing certain topics which had formed matter for conversationbetween us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the affair ofthe Rue Morgue, and the mystery attending the murder of Marie Roget. Ilooked upon it, therefore, as something of a coincidence, when thedoor of our apartment was thrown open and admitted our oldacquaintance, Monsieur G----, the Prefect of the Parisian police. 

We gave him a hearty welcome; for there was nearly half as much of theentertaining as of the contemptible about the man, and we had not seenhim for several years. We had been sitting in the dark, and Dupin nowarose for the purpose of lighting a lamp, but sat down again, withoutdoing so, upon G----'s saying that he had called to consult us, orrather to ask the opinion of my friend, about some official businesswhich had occasioned a great deal of trouble. 

"If it is any point requiring reflection, " observed Dupin, as heforebore to enkindle the wick, "we shall examine it to better purposein the dark. "

"That is another of your odd notions, " said the Prefect, who had afashion of calling everything "odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities. "

"Very true, " said Dupin, as he supplied his visitor with a pipe, androlled towards him a comfortable chair. 

"And what is the difficulty now?" I asked. "Nothing more in theassassination way, I hope?"

"Oh, no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the business is _very_simple indeed, and I make no doubt that we can manage it sufficientlywell ourselves; but then I thought Dupin would like to hear thedetails of it, because it is so excessively _odd_. "

"Simple and odd, " said Dupin. 

"Why, yes; and not exactly that, either. The fact is, we have all beena good deal puzzled because the affair _is_ so simple, and yet bafflesus altogether. "

"Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts you atfault, " said my friend. 

"What nonsense you _do_ talk!" replied the Prefect, laughing heartily. 

"Perhaps the mystery is a little _too_ plain, " said Dupin. 

"Oh, good Heavens! who ever heard of such an idea?"

"A little _too_ self-evident. "

"Ha! ha! ha!--ha! ha! ha!--ho! ho! ho!" roared our visitor, profoundlyamused. "O Dupin, you will be the death of me yet!"

"And what, after all, _is_ the matter on hand?" I asked. 

"Why, I will tell you, " replied the Prefect, as he gave a long, steady, and contemplative puff, and settle'd himself in his chair. "Iwill tell you in a few words; but, before I begin, let me caution youthat this is an affair demanding the greatest secrecy, and that Ishould most probably lose the position I now hold were it known that Iconfided it to any one. "

"Proceed, " said I. 

"Or not, " said Dupin. 

"Well, then; I have received personal information, from a very highquarter, that a certain document of the last importance has beenpurloined from the royal apartments. The individual who purloined itis known; this beyond a doubt; he was seen to take it. It is known, also, that it still remains in his possession. "

"How is this known?" asked Dupin. 

"It is clearly inferred, " replied the Prefect, "from the nature of thedocument, and from the non-appearance of certain results which wouldat once arise from its passing _out_ of the robber's possession; thatis to say, from his employing it as he must design in the end toemploy it. "

"Be a little more explicit, " I said. 

"Well, I may venture so far as to say that the paper gives its holdera certain power in a certain quarter where such power is immenselyvaluable. " The Prefect was fond of the cant of diplomacy. 

"Still I do not quite understand, " said Dupin. 

"No? well; the disclosure of the document to a third person, whoshall be nameless, would bring in question the honor of a personage ofmost exalted station; and this fact gives the holder of the documentan ascendency over the illustrious personage whose honor and peace areso jeopardized. "

"But this ascendency, " I interposed, "would depend upon the robber'sknowledge of the loser's knowledge of the robber. Who would dare--"

"The thief, " said G-------, "is the Minister D------, who dares allthings, those unbecoming as well as those becoming a man. The methodof the theft was not less ingenious than bold. The document inquestion--a letter, to be frank--had been received by thepersonage robbed while alone in the royal boudoir. During its perusalshe was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the other exaltedpersonage, from whom especially it was her wish to conceal it. Aftera hurried and vain endeavor to thrust it in a drawer, she was forcedto place it, open as it was, upon a table. The address, however, wasuppermost, and, the contents thus unexposed, the letter escapednotice. At this juncture enters the Minister D----. His lynx eyeimmediately perceives the paper, recognizes the handwriting of theaddress, observes the confusion of the personage addressed, andfathoms her secret. After some business transactions, hurried throughin his ordinary manner, he produces a letter somewhat similar to theone in question, opens it, pretends to read it, and then places it inclose juxtaposition to the other. Again he converses for some fifteenminutes upon the public affairs. At length, in taking leave, he takesalso from the table the letter to which he had no claim. Its rightfulowner saw, but, of course, dared not call attention to the act, in thepresence of the third personage, who stood at her elbow. The Ministerdecamped, leaving his own letter--one of no importance--upon thetable. "

"Here, then, " said Dupin to me, "you have precisely what you demand tomake the ascendancy complete--the robber's knowledge of the loser'sknowledge of the robber. "

"Yes, " replied the Prefect; "and the power thus attained has, for somemonths past, been wielded, for political purposes, to a very dangerousextent. The personage robbed is more thoroughly convinced, every day, of the necessity of reclaiming her letter. But this, of course, cannotbe done openly. In fine, driven to despair, she has committed thematter to me. "

"Than whom, " said Dupin, amid a perfect whirlwind of smoke, "no moresagacious agent could, I suppose, be desired, or even imagined. "

"You flatter me, " replied the Prefect; "but it is possible that somesuch opinion may have been entertained. "

"It is clear, " said I, "as you observe, that the letter is still inpossession of the Minister; since it is this possession, and not anyemployment of the letter, which bestows the power. With theemployment the power departs. "

"True, " said G----; "and upon this conviction I proceeded. My firstcare was to make thorough search of the Minister's Hotel; and here mychief embarrassment lay in the necessity of searching without hisknowledge. Beyond all things, I have been warned of the danger whichwould result from giving him reason to suspect our design. "

"But, " said I, "you are quite _au fait_ in these investigations. TheParisian police have done this thing often before. "

"Oh, yes; and for this reason I did not despair. The habits of theMinister gave me, too, a great advantage. He is frequently absent fromhome all night. His servants are by no means numerous. They sleep at adistance from their master's apartment, and, being chieflyNeapolitans, are readily made drunk. I have keys, as you know, withwhich I can open any chamber or cabinet in Paris. For three months anight has not passed, during the greater part of which I have not beenengaged, personally, in ransacking the D---- Hotel. My honor isinterested, and, to mention a great secret, the reward is enormous. SoI did not abandon the search until I had become fully satisfied thethief is a more astute man than myself. I fancy that I haveinvestigated every nook and corner of the premises in which it ispossible that the paper can be concealed. "

"But is it not possible, " I suggested, "that although the letter maybe in possession of the Minister, as it unquestionably is, he may haveconcealed it elsewhere than upon his own premises?"

"This is barely possible, " said Dupin. "The present peculiar conditionof affairs at court, and especially of those intrigues in which D----is known to be involved, would render the instant availability of thedocument--its susceptibility of being produced at a moment's notice--apoint of nearly equal importance with its possession. "

"Its susceptibility of being produced?" said I. 

"That is to say, of being _destroyed_, " said Dupin. 

"True, " I observed; "the paper is clearly then upon the premises. Asfor its being upon the person of the Minister, we may consider that asout of the question. "

"Entirely, " said the Prefect. "He has been twice waylaid, as if byfootpads, and his person rigorously searched under my own inspection. "

"You might have spared yourself this trouble, " said Dupin. "D----, Ipresume, is not altogether a fool, and, if not, must have anticipatedthese waylayings, as a matter of course. "

"Not _altogether_ a fool, " said G----, "but then he's a poet, which Itake to be only one remove from a fool. "

"True, " said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful whiff from hismeerschaum, "although I have been guilty of certain doggerel myself. "

"Suppose you detail, " said I, "the particulars of your search. "

"Why, the fact is, we took our time, and we searched _everywhere_. Ihave had long experience in these affairs. I took the entire building, room by room, devoting the nights of a whole week to each. Weexamined, first, the furniture of each apartment. We opened everypossible drawer; and I presume you know that, to a properly trainedpolice agent, such a thing as a _secret_ drawer is impossible. Any manis a dolt who permits a 'secret' drawer to escape him in a search ofthis kind. The thing is _so_ plain. There is a certain amount ofbulk--of space--to be accounted for in every cabinet. Then we haveaccurate rules. The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. Afterthe cabinets we took the chairs. The cushions we probed with the finelong needles you have seen me employ. From the tables we removed thetops. "

"Why so?"

"Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged piece offurniture, is removed by the person wishing to conceal an article;then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within the cavity, and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of bedposts are employed inthe same way. "

"But could not the cavity be detected by sounding?" I asked. 

"By no means, if, when the article is deposited, a sufficient waddingof cotton be placed around it. Besides, in our case we were obliged toproceed without noise. "

"But you could not have removed--you could not have taken to pieces_all_ articles of furniture in which it would have been possible tomake a deposit in the manner you mention. A letter may be compressedinto a thin spiral roll, not differing much in shape or bulk from alarge knitting-needle, and in this form it might be inserted into therung of a chair, for example. You did not take to pieces all thechairs?"

"Certainly not; but we did better--we examined the rungs of everychair in the Hotel, and indeed, the jointings of every description offurniture, by the aid of a most powerful microscope. Had there beenany traces of recent disturbance we should not have failed to detectit instantly. A single grain of gimlet-dust, for example, would havebeen as obvious as an apple. Any disorder in the gluing--any unusualgaping in the joints--would have sufficed to insure detection. "

"I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the boards and theplates, and you probed the beds and the bedclothes, as well as thecurtains and carpets?"

"That, of course; and when we had absolutely completed every particleof the furniture in this way, then we examined the house itself. Wedivided its entire surface into compartments, which we numbered, sothat none might be missed; then we scrutinized each individual squareinch throughout the premises, including the two houses immediatelyadjoining, with the microscope, as before. "

"The two houses adjoining!" I exclaimed; "you must have had a greatdeal of trouble. "

"We had; but the reward offered is prodigious. "

"You include the _grounds_ about the houses?"

"All the grounds are paved with bricks. They gave us comparativelylittle trouble. We examined the moss between the bricks, and found itundisturbed. "

"You looked among D----'s papers, of course, and into the books of thelibrary?"

"Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we not only openedevery book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume, notcontenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion ofsome of our police officers. We also measured the thickness of everybook-_cover_, with the most accurate admeasurement, and applied toeach the most jealous scrutiny of the microscope. Had any of thebindings been recently meddled with, it would have been utterlyimpossible that the fact should have escaped observation. Some five orsix volumes, just from the hands of the binder, we carefully probed, longitudinally, with the needles. "

"You explored the floors beneath the carpets?"

"Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined the boards withthe microscope. "

"And the paper on the walls?"

"Yes. "

"You looked into the cellars?"

"We did. "

"Then, " I said, "you have been making a miscalculation, and the letteris _not_ upon the premises, as you suppose. "

"I fear you are right there, " said the Prefect. "And now, Dupin, whatwould you advise me to do?"

"To make a thorough re-search of the premises. "

"That is absolutely needless, " replied G----. "I am not more sure thatI breathe than I am that the letter is not at the Hotel. "

"I have no better advice to give you, " said Dupin. 

"You have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?"

"Oh, yes!"--And here the Prefect, producing a memorandum-book, proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the internal, andespecially of the external appearance of the missing document. Soonafter finishing the perusal of this description, he took hisdeparture, more entirely depressed in spirits than I had ever knownthe good gentleman before. 

In about a month afterwards he paid us another visit, and found usoccupied very nearly as before. He took a pipe and a chair and enteredinto some ordinary conversation. At length I said, --

"Well, but, G----, what of the purloined letter? I presume you have atlast made up your mind that there is no such thing as overreaching theMinister?"

"Confound him, say I--yes; I made the re-examination, however, asDupin suggested--but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would be. "

"How much was the reward offered, did you say?" asked Dupin. 

"Why, a very great deal--a _very_ liberal reward--I don't like to sayhow much, precisely; but one thing I _will_ say, that I wouldn't mindgiving my individual check for fifty thousand francs to any one whocould obtain me that letter. The fact is, it is becoming of more andmore importance every day; and the reward has been lately doubled. Ifit were trebled, however, I could do no more than I have done. "

"Why, yes, " said Dupin, drawlingly, between the whiffs of hismeerschaum, "I really--think, G----, you have not exerted yourself--tothe utmost in this matter. You might--do a little more, I think, eh?"

"How?--in what way?"

"Why--puff, puff--you might--puff, puff--employ counsel in the matter, eh?--puff, puff, puff. Do you remember the story they tell ofAbernethy?"

"No; hang Abernethy!"

"To be sure! hang him and welcome. But, once upon a time, a certainrich miser conceived the design of sponging upon this Abernethy for amedical opinion. Getting up, for this purpose, an ordinaryconversation in a private company, he insinuated his case to thephysician, as that of an imaginary individual. 

"'We will suppose, ' said the miser, 'that his symptoms are such andsuch; now, doctor, what would _you_ have directed him to take?'

"'Take!' said Abernethy, 'why, take _advice_, to be sure. '"

"But, " said the Prefect, a little discomposed, "I am _perfectly_willing to take advice, and to pay for it. I would _really_ give fiftythousand francs to any one who would aid me in the matter. "

"In that case, " replied Dupin, opening a drawer, and producing acheck-book, "you may as well fill me up a check for the amountmentioned. When you have signed it, I will hand you the letter. "

I was astounded. The Prefect appeared absolutely thunder-stricken. Forsome minutes he remained speechless and motionless, lookingincredulously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that seemedstarting from their sockets; then, apparently recovering himself insome measure, he seized a pen, and after several pauses and vacantstares, finally filled up and signed a check for fifty thousandfrancs, and handed it across the table to Dupin. The latter examinedit carefully and deposited it in his pocketbook; then, unlocking an_escritoire_, took thence a letter and gave it to the Prefect. Thisfunctionary grasped it in a perfect agony of joy, opened it with atrembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents, and then, scrambling and struggling to the door, rushed at lengthunceremoniously from the room and from the house, without havinguttered a syllable since Dupin had requested him to fill up the check. 

When he had gone, my friend entered into some explanations. 

"The Parisian police, " he said, "are exceedingly able in theirway. They are persevering, ingenious, cunning, and thoroughly versedin the knowledge which their duties seem chiefly to demand. Thus, whenG---- detailed to us his mode of searching the premises at the HotelD----, I felt entire confidence in his having made a satisfactoryinvestigation--so far as his labors extended. "

"So far as his labors extended?" said I. 

"Yes, " said Dupin. "The measures adopted were not only the best oftheir kind, but carried out to absolute perfection. Had the letterbeen deposited within the range of their search, these fellows would, beyond a question, have found it. "

I merely laughed--but he seemed quite serious in all that he said. 

"The measures, then, " he continued, "were good in their kind, and wellexecuted; their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case, and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources are, withthe Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed to which he forcibly adapts hisdesigns. But he perpetually errs by being too deep or too shallow, forthe matter in hand; and many a schoolboy is a better reasoner thanhe. I knew one about eight years of age, whose success at guessing inthe game of 'even and odd' attracted universal admiration. This game_is_ simple, and is played with marbles. One player holds in his handa number of these toys, and demands of another whether that number iseven or odd. If the guess is right, the guesser wins one; if wrong, heloses one. The boy to whom I allude won all the marbles of theschool. Of course he had some principle of guessing; and this lay inmere observation and admeasurement of the astuteness of hisopponents. For example, an arrant simpleton is his opponent, and, holding up his closed hand asks, 'Are they even or odd?' Our schoolboyreplies, 'Odd' and loses; but upon the second trial he wins, for hethen says to himself, 'the simpleton had them even upon the firsttrial, and his amount of cunning is just sufficient to make him havethem odd upon the second; I will therefore guess odd;' he guesses odd, and wins. Now, with a simpleton a degree above the first he would havereasoned thus: 'This fellow finds that in the first instance I guessedodd, and, in the second, he will propose to himself, upon the firstimpulse, a simple variation from even to odd, as did the firstsimpleton; but then a second thought will suggest that this is toosimple a variation, and finally he will decide upon putting it even asbefore. I will therefore guess even;' he guesses even, and wins. Nowthis mode of reasoning in the schoolboy, whom his fellows term'lucky, '--what, in its last analysis, is it?"

"It is merely, " I said, "an identification of the reasoner's intellectwith that of his opponent. "

"It is, " said Dupin; "and, upon inquiring of the boy by what means heeffected the _thorough_ identification in which his success consisted, I received answer as follows: 'When I wish to find out how wise, orhow stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one, or what are histhoughts at the moment, I fashion the expression of my face, asaccurately as possible, in accordance with the expression of his, andthen wait to see what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind orheart, as if to match or correspond with the expression. ' Thisresponse of the schoolboy lies at the bottom of all the spuriousprofundity which has been attributed to Rochefoucauld, to La Bruyere, to Machiavelli, and to Campanella. "

"And the identification, " I said, "of the reasoner's intellect withthat of his opponent, depends, if I understand you aright, upon theaccuracy with which the opponent's intellect is admeasured. "

"For its practical value it depends upon this, " replied Dupin, "andthe Prefect and his cohort fail so frequently, first, by default ofthis identification, and, secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or ratherthrough non-admeasurement, of the intellect with which they areengaged. They consider only their _own_ ideas of ingenuity; and, insearching for anything hidden, advert only to the modes in which_they_ would have hidden it. They are right in this much--that theirown ingenuity is a faithful representative of that of _the mass_: butwhen the cunning of the individual felon is diverse in character fromtheir own, the felon foils them, of course. This always happens whenit is above their own, and very usually when it is below. They have novariation of principle in their investigations; at best, when urged bysome unusual emergency--by some extraordinary reward--they extend orexaggerate their old modes of _practice_, without touching theirprinciples. What, for example, in this case of D----, has been doneto vary the principle of action? What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, and scrutinizing with the microscope, and dividing thesurface of the building into registered square inches--what is it allbut an exaggeration _of the application_ of the one principle or setof principles of search, which are based upon the one set of notionsregarding human ingenuity, to which the Prefect, in the long routineof his duty, has been accustomed? Do you not see he has taken it forgranted that _all_ men proceed to conceal a letter, --not exactly in agimlet-hole bored in a chair leg--but, at least, in _some_out-of-the-way hole or corner suggested by the same tenor of thoughtwhich would urge a man to secrete a letter in a gimlet-hole bored in achair-leg? And do you not see, also, that such _recherches_ nooks forconcealment are adapted only for ordinary occasions and would beadopted only by ordinary intellects; for, in all cases of concealment, a disposal of the article concealed--a disposal of it in this_recherche_ manner--is, in the very first instance, presumable andpresumed; and thus its discovery depends, not at all upon the acumen, but altogether upon the mere care, patience, and determination of theseekers; and where the case is of importance--or, what amounts to thesame thing in policial eyes, when the reward is of magnitude--thequalities in question have _never_ been known to fail. You will nowunderstand what I meant in suggesting that, had the purloined letterbeen hidden anywhere within the limits of the Prefect'sexamination--in other words, had the principle of its concealment beencomprehended within the principles of the Prefect--its discovery wouldhave been a matter altogether beyond question. This functionary, however, has been thoroughly mystified; and the remote source of hisdefeat lies in the supposition that the Minister is a fool, because hehas acquired renown as a poet. All fools are poets; this the Prefect_feels_; and he is merely guilty of a _non distributio medii_ inthence inferring that all poets are fools. "

"But is this really the poet?" I asked. "There are two brothers, Iknow; and both have attained reputation in letters. The Minister, Ibelieve, has written learnedly on the Differential Calculus. He is amathematician, and no poet"

"You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. As poet _and_mathematician, he would reason well; as mere mathematician, he couldnot have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the mercy of thePrefect. "

"You surprise me, " I said, "by these opinions, which have beencontradicted by the voice of the world. You do not mean to set atnaught the well-digested idea of centuries. The mathematical reasonhas long been regarded as _the_ reason _par excellence_. "

"'_Il-y-a a parier_, '" replied Dupin, quoting from Chamfort, "'_quetoute idee publique, toute convention recue, est une sottise, car ellea convenue au plus grand nombre_. ' The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate the popular error to which youallude, and which is none the less an error for its promulgation astruth. With an art worthy a better cause, for example, they haveinsinuated the term 'analysis' into application to algebra. The Frenchare the originators of this particular deception ; but if a term is ofany importance--if words derive any value from applicability--then'analysis' conveys 'algebra, ' about as much as, in Latin, '_ambitus_'implies 'ambition, ' '_religio_, ' 'religion, ' or '_homines honesti_, 'aset of honorable men. "

"You have a quarrel on hand, I see, " said I, "with some of thealgebraists of Paris; but proceed. "

"I dispute the availability, and thus the value, of that reason whichis cultivated in any especial form other than the abstractlylogical. I dispute, in particular, the reason educed by mathematicalstudy. The mathematics are the science of form and quantity;mathematical reasoning is merely logic applied to observation uponform and quantity. The great error lies in supposing that even thetruths of what is called _pure_ algebra are abstract or generaltruths. And this error is so egregious that I am confounded at theuniversality with which it has been received. Mathematical axioms are_not_ axioms of general truth. What is true of _relation_--of form andquantity--is often grossly false in regard to morals, for example. Inthis latter science it is very usually _un_true that the aggregatedparts are equal to the whole. In chemistry also the axiom fails. Inthe consideration of motive it fails; for two motives, each of a givenvalue, have not, necessarily, a value when united, equal to the sum oftheir values apart. There are numerous other mathematical truths whichare only truths within the limits of _relation_. But the mathematicianargues, from his _finite truths_, through habit, as if they were of anabsolutely general applicability--as the world indeed imagines them tobe. Bryant, in his very learned 'Mythology, ' mentions an analogoussource of error, when he says that 'although the Pagan fables are notbelieved, yet we forget ourselves continually, and make inferencesfrom them as existing realities. ' With the algebraists, however, whoare Pagans themselves, the 'Pagan fables' _are_ believed, and theinferences are made, not so much through lapse of memory, as throughan unaccountable addling of the brains. In short, I neyer yetencountered the mere mathematician who could be trusted out of equalroots, or one who did not clandestinely hold it as a point of hisfaith that _x^{2}+px_ was absolutely and unconditionally equal to _q_. Say to one of these gentlemen, by way of experiment, if you please, that you believe occasions may occur where _x^{2}+px_ is _not_altogether equal to _q_, and, having made him understand what youmean, get out of his reach as speedily as convenient, for, beyonddoubt, he will endeavor to knock you down. 

"I mean to say, " continued Dupin, while I merely laughed at his lastobservations, "that if the Minister had been no more than amathematician, the Prefect would have been under no necessity ofgiving me this check. I knew him, however, as both mathematician andpoet, and my measures were adapted to his capacity, with reference tothe circumstances by which he was surrounded. I knew him as courtier, too, and as a bold _intriguant_. Such a man, I considered, could notfail to be aware of the ordinary policial modes of action. He couldnot have failed to anticipate--and events have proved that he did notfail to anticipate--the waylayings to which he was subjected. He musthave foreseen, I reflected, the secret investigations of hispremises. His frequent absences from home at night, which were hailedby the Prefect as certain aids to his success, I regarded only asruses, to afford opportunity for thorough search to the police, andthus the sooner to impress them with the conviction to which G----, infact, did finally arrive--the conviction that the letter was not uponthe premises. I felt, also, that the whole train of thought, which Iwas at some pains in detailing to you just now, concerning theinvariable principle of policial action in searches for articlesconcealed--I felt that this whole train of thought would necessarilypass through the mind of the Minister. It would imperatively lead himto despise all the ordinary _nooks_ of concealment. _He_ could not, Ireflected, be so weak as not to see that the most intricate and remoterecess of his Hotel would be as open as his commonest closets to theeyes, to the probes, to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of thePrefect. I saw, in fine, that he would be driven, as a matter ofcourse, to _simplicity_, if not deliberately induced to it as a matterof choice. You will remember, perhaps, how desperately the Prefectlaughed when I suggested, upon our first interview, that it was justpossible this mystery troubled him so much on account of its being so_very_ self-evident. "

"Yes, " said I, "I remember his merriment well. I really thought hewould have fallen into convulsions. "

"The material world, " continued Dupin, "abounds with very strictanalogies to the immaterial; and thus some color of truth has beengiven to the rhetorical dogma, that metaphor, or simile, may be madeto strengthen an argument, as well as to embellish a description. Theprinciple of the _vis inertiae_, for example, seems to be identical inphysics and metaphysics. It is not more true in the former, that alarge body is with more difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, and that its subsequent momentum is commensurate with this difficulty, than it is, in the latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while more forcible, more constant, and more eventful in theirmovements than those of inferior grade, are yet the less readilymoved, and more embarrassed and full of hesitation in the first fewsteps of their progress. Again: have you ever noticed which of thestreet signs, over the shop-doors, are the most attractive ofattention?"

"I have never given the matter a thought, " I said. 

"There is a game of puzzles, " he resumed, "which is played upon amap. One party playing requires another to find a given word--the nameof town, river, state, or empire--any word, in short, upon the motleyand perplexed surface of the chart. A novice in the game generallyseeks to embarrass his opponents by giving them the most minutelylettered names; but the adept selects such words as stretch, in largecharacters, from one end of the chart to the other. These, like theover-largely lettered signs and placards of the street, escapeobservation by dint of being excessively obvious; and here thephysical oversight is precisely analogous with the moralinapprehension by which the intellect suffers to pass unnoticed thoseconsiderations which are too obtrusively and too palpablyself-evident. But this is a point, it appears, somewhat above orbeneath the understanding of the Prefect. He never once thought itprobable, or possible, that the Minister had deposited the letterimmediately beneath the nose of the whole world, by way of bestpreventing any portion of that world from perceiving it. 

"But the more I reflected upon the daring, dashing, and discriminatingingenuity of D----; upon the fact that the document must always havebeen _at hand, _ if he intended to use it to good purpose; and upon thedecisive evidence, obtained by the Prefect, that it was not hiddenwithin the limits of that dignitary's ordinary search--the moresatisfied I became that, to conceal this letter, the Minister hadresorted to the comprehensive and sagacious expedient of notattempting to conceal it at all. 

"Full of these ideas, I prepared myself with a pair of greenspectacles, and called one fine morning, quite by accident, at theMinisterial Hotel. I found D---- at home, yawning, lounging, anddawdling, as usual, and pretending to be in the last extremity ofennui. He is, perhaps, the most really energetic human being nowalive--but that is only when nobody sees him. 

"To be even with him, I complained of my weak eyes, and lamented thenecessity of the spectacles, under cover of which I cautiously andthoroughly surveyed the apartment, while seemingly intent only uponthe conversation of my host. 

"I paid especial attention to a large writing-table near which he sat, and upon which lay confusedly some miscellaneous letters and otherpapers, with one or two musical instruments and a few books. Here, however, after a long and very deliberate scrutiny, I saw nothing toexcite particular suspicion. 

"At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room, fell upon atrumpery filigree card-rack of pasteboard, that hung dangling by adirty blue ribbon from a little brass knob just beneath the middle ofthe mantelpiece. In this rack, which had three or four compartments, were five or six visiting cards and a solitary letter. This last wasmuch soiled and crumpled. It was torn nearly in two, across themiddle--as if a design, in the first instance, to tear it entirely upas worthless, had been altered, or stayed, in the second. It had alarge black seal, bearing the D---- cipher _very_ conspicuously, andwas addressed, in a diminutive female hand, to D----, the Ministerhimself. It was thrust carelessly, and even, as it seemed, contemptuously, into one of the upper divisions of the rack. 

"No sooner had I glanced at this letter, than I concluded it to bethat of which I was in search. To be sure, it was, to all appearance, radically different from the one of which the Prefect had read us sominute a description. Here the seal was large and black, with theD---- cipher; there it was small and red, with the ducal arms of theS---- family. Here, the address, to the Minister, was diminutive andfeminine; there the superscription, to a certain royal personage, wasmarkedly bold and decided; the size alone formed a point ofcorrespondence. But then, the _radicalness_ of these differences, which was excessive; the dirt; the soiled and torn condition of thepaper, so inconsistent with the _true_ methodical habits of D----, andso suggestive of a design to delude the beholder into an idea of theworthlessness of the document; these things, together with thehyperobtrusive situation of this document, full in the view of everyvisitor, and thus exactly in accordance with the conclusions to whichI had previously arrived; these things, I say, were stronglycorroborative of suspicion, in one who came with the intention tosuspect. 

"I protracted my visit as long as possible, and, while I maintained amost animated discussion with the Minister, upon a topic which I knewwell had never failed to interest and excite him, I kept my attentionreally riveted upon the letter. In this examination, I committed tomemory its external appearance and arrangement in the rack; and alsofell, at length, upon a discovery which set at rest whatever trivialdoubt I might have entertained. In scrutinizing the edges of thepaper, I observed them to be more _chafed_ than seemed necessary. Theypresented the _broken_ appearance which is manifested when a stiffpaper, having been once folded and pressed with a folder, is refoldedin a reversed direction, in the same creases or edges which had formedthe original fold. This discovery was sufficient. It was clear to methat the letter had been turned, as a glove, inside out, re-directed, and re-sealed. I bade the Minister good-morning, and took my departureat once, leaving a gold snuff-box upon the table. 

"The next morning I called for the snuff-box, when we resumed, quiteeagerly, the conversation of the preceding day. While thus engaged, however, a loud report, as if of a pistol, was heard immediatelybeneath the windows of the Hotel, and was succeeded by a series offearful screams, and the shoutings of a mob. D---- rushed to acasement, threw it open, and looked out. In the meantime, I stepped tothe card-rack, took the letter, put it in my pocket, and replaced itby a facsimile (so far as regards externals), which I had carefullyprepared at my lodgings--imitating the D---- cipher, very readily, bymeans of a seal formed of bread. 

"The disturbance in the street had been occasioned by the franticbehavior of a man with a musket. He had fired it among a crowd ofwomen and children. It proved, however, to have been without ball, andthe fellow was suffered to go his way as a lunatic or a drunkard. Whenhe had gone, D---- came from the window, whither I had followed himimmediately upon securing the object in view. Soon afterwards I badehim farewell. The pretended lunatic was a man in my own pay. "

"But what purpose had you, " I asked, "in replacing the letter by afacsimile? Would it not have been better, at the first visit, to haveseized it openly, and departed?"

"D----, " replied Dupin, "is a desperate man, and a man of nerve. HisHotel, too, is not without attendants devoted to his interests. Had Imade the wild attempt you suggest, I might never have left theMinisterial presence alive. The good 30 people of Paris might haveheard of me no more. But I had an object apart from theseconsiderations. You know my political prepossessions. In this matter, I act as a partisan of the lady concerned. For eighteen months theMinister has had her in his power. She has now him in hers--since, being unaware that the letter is not in his possession, he willproceed with his exactions as if it was. Thus will he inevitablycommit himself, at once, to his political destruction. His downfall, too, will not be more precipitate than awkward. It is all very well totalk about the _facilis descensus Averni_; but in all kinds ofclimbing, as Catalani said of singing, it is far more easy to get upthan to come down. In the present instance I have no sympathy--atleast no pity--for him who descends. He is that _monstrum horrendum_, an unprincipled man of genius. I confess, however, that I should likevery well to know the precise character of his thoughts, when, beingdefied by her whom the Prefect terms 'a certain personage, ' he isreduced to opening the letter which I left for him in the card-rack. "

"How? Did you put anything particular in it?"

"Why--it did not seem altogether right to leave the interiorblank--that would have been insulting. D----, at Vienna once, did mean evil turn, which I told him, quite good-humoredly, that I shouldremember. So, as I knew he would feel some curiosity in regard to theidentity of the person who had outwitted him, I thought it a pity notto give him a clew. He is well acquainted with my MS. , and I justcopied into the middle of the blank sheet the words--

 '--Un dessein si funeste, S'il n'est digne d'Atree, est digne de Thyeste. '

They are to be found in Crebillon's _Atree_. "

NOTES

The text followed both for poems and tales is that of theStedman-Woodberry edition of Poe's Works, in which the editorsfollowed, in most cases, the text of what is known as the "LorimerGraham" copy of the edition of 1845, containing marginal correctionsin Poe's own hand. Poe revised his work frequently and sometimesextensively. The following notes show, in most cases, the dates bothof the first publication and of subsequent ones. Familiarity with theIntroduction to this book will, in some cases, be necessary to anunderstanding of the notes. Gayley's "Classic Myths in EnglishLiterature" (Ginn & Company, $1. 50) is the best reference work ofsmall size for allusions to mythology, and should be available. 

Both poems and tales are arranged in chronological order. 

POEMS

SONG (Page 3)

Published in 1827, 1829, and 1845. The poem is believed to refer toMiss Royster, of Richmond, with whom Poe was in love as a boy ofsixteen, shortly before he entered the University of Virginia. Theyoung lady's father intercepted the correspondence, and Miss Roystersoon became Mrs. Shelton. The blush, mentioned in lines 2, 9, and 14, is doubtless intended to imply shame for her desertion. The poem iscommonplace, and shows little that is characteristic of the older Poe. 

SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (Page 3)

Published in 1827 as "Visit of the Dead, " and in 1829 and 1839 underthe above title. It has been conjectured that this poem was inspiredby the death of Mrs. Stannard (see Introduction, page xii). 

TO ---- (Page 4)

The original, longer and addressed "To M----, " appeared in the editionof 1829, and was republished in 1845. 

ROMANCE (Page 5)

Printed as a preface in 1829, and as an introduction in 1831;considerably revised and shortened, it appeared in 1843 and 1845 as"Romance. "

11. Condor years. The metaphor implies a likeness of time--theyears--to a bird of prey. Cf. "condor wings" in "The Conqueror Worm. "

19. Forbidden things: i. E. "lyre and rhyme. " What is the meaning?

TO THE RIVER-- (Page 5)

Published first in 1829, afterwards in several magazines and in theedition of 1845. 

TO SCIENCE (Page 6)

Published first in 1829, this poem appeared in editions of 1831 and1845, and in magazines. It is a sonnet, differing from theShakespearean form only in the repetition of the rhyme with "eyes. "

9, 10, 12. In classical mythology, Diana is the moon goddess, Hamadryad, a wood nymph, Naiad, a water nymph. Consult Gayley's"Classic Myths. " Explain the figures of speech. 

13. Elfin: elf, a fairy, from the Anglo-Saxon, refers especially totiny sprites, fond of mischief and tricks. But there were variouskinds of elves, according to the Norse mythology. Consult Gayley's"Classic Myths. " Explain the figure. 

14. Tamarind-tree: a beautiful, spreading, Oriental tree, with pinnateleaves and showy racemes of yellow flowers variegated with red. Whatdoes the line mean?

TO HELEN (Page 7)

Published in 1831, 1836, 1841, 1843, and 1845. Read comment in theIntroduction, pages xii and xxiii. 

2. Nicaean barks. It is impossible to say exactly what this allusionmeans. Professor W. P. Trent aptly suggests that if "wanderer" in line4 refers to Ulysses, as seems likely, "Phaeacian" would have been theright word, since the Phaeacians did convey Ulysses to Ithaca. Poe mayhave had that idea in mind and used the wrong word, or this may simplybe a characteristically vague suggestion of antiquity. Point outsimilar examples of indefinite suggestion in this poem. 

7. Hyacinth hair: a favorite term with Poe. In "The Assignation" hesays of the Marchesa Aphrodite, "Her hair . .. Clustered round andround her classical head, in curls like those of the young hyacinth. "The hair of Ligeia, in the story of that title, he calls "theraven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth the full force of the Homeric epithet, 'hyacinthine. '"

8. Naiad airs: suggestive of exquisite grace. The Naiads, inclassical mythology, are water nymphs, --lovely maidens presiding overbrooks and fountains. 

9, 10. Two of Poe's best and most frequently quoted lines. Explain thefitness of the epithets. Originally the lines read:

 To the beauty of fair Greece And the grandeur of old Rome. 

Is the change an improvement? Explain. 

14. Psyche: the Greek word for "soul, " and also the name of abeautiful maiden whom Cupid himself loved and wedded. Read the storyin Gayley's "Classic Myths. "

ISRAFEL (Page 7)

Published in editions of 1831 and 1845, and several times inmagazines. See comment in the Introduction, page xxiii. Poe derivedthe quotation through Moore's "Lalla Rookh, " altered it slightly, andinterpolated the clause, "whose heart-strings are a lute"; it is fromSale's "Preliminary Discourse" to the Koran. 

12. Levin, or leven: an archaic word for "lightning. "

13. Pleiads, or Pleiades: a group of stars in the constellationTaurus; only six stars of the group are readily visible, but legendtells of a seventh, lost. Read the account of the ancient myth inGayley's "Classic Myths. "

23. Skies: the object of "trod. "

26. Houri: derived from an Arabian word meaning "to havebrilliant black eyes. " It is the name in Mohammedan tradition forbeautiful nymphs of Paradise, who are to be companions of the pious. 

THE CITY IN THE SEA (Page 9)

Published in 1831 as "The Doomed City, " in 1836 as "The City of Sin, "and several times in 1845 under the above title. 

Point out examples of alliteration. 

18. Babylon-like walls. The walls of the ancient city ofBabylon, on the Euphrates, were famous for massiveness and extent. 

THE SLEEPER (Page 11)

Published as "Irene" in 1831 and 1836, and as "The Sleeper" in 1843and 1845. The theme is Poe's favorite, the death of a beautiful youngwoman, and the poem is remarkable, even among Poe's, for its melody. 

LENORE (Page 13)

Published as "A Paean" in 1831 and 1836, and as "Lenore" in 1843 and1845. It was much altered in its numerous revisions. 

1. Broken is the golden bowl. See Ecclesiastes xii. 6. 

2. Stygian river. The Styx was a river of Hades, across whichthe souls of the dead had to be ferried. 

3. Guy De Vere: the mourning lover. It is he who speaks in thesecond and fourth stanzas. 

13. Peccavimus: literally, "we have sinned. " This stanza is thereply of the false friends. 

THE VALLEY OF UNREST (Page 14)

Published in 1831 as "The Valley Nis, " with an obscure allusion to a"Syriac Tale":

 Something about Satan's dart-- Something about angel wings-- Much about a broken heart-- All about unhappy things: But "the Valley Nis" at best Means "the Valley of Unrest. "

Later it was published in magazines and in the 1845 edition, revisedand improved, and transformed into a simple landscape picture, --one ofthe strange, weird, unearthly landscapes so characteristic of Poe. 

THE COLISEUM (Page 15)

This poem was submitted in the prize contest in Baltimore in 1833, andwould have been successful but for the fact that the author's story, "The Manuscript Found in a Bottle, " had taken the first prize in itsclass. It was republished several times, but not much altered. Theusual spelling is "Colosseum. " It is very unlikely that Poe ever sawthe Colosseum, though it is barely possible his foster parents mayhave taken him to Rome during the English residence (see Introduction, page xii). 

13-14. Apparently a reference to Jesus, but characteristically vague. 

15-16. The ancient Chaldeans were famous students of the heavens andpracticed fortune telling by the stars; during the Middle Agesastrologers were commonly called "Chaldeans. "

17. Hero fell. Explain the allusion. Read an account of theColosseum in a history or reference book. 

18. Mimic eagle: the eagle on the Roman standard. 

20. Gilded hair: adorned with golden ornaments. 

26-29. Arcades, plinths, shafts, entablatures, frieze, cornices. Consult the dictionary and explain these architecturalterms. 

36. Memnon: a gigantic statue of this Greek hero on the banksof the Nile was said to salute the rising sun with a musical note. 

HYMN (Page 16)

Published in 1835 in the tale "Morella, " and several times afterwardin magazines and collections. As an expression of simple, religioustrust and hope, this poem stands quite apart from all others by Poe. 

TO ONE IN PARADISE (Page 17)

Published in 1835 as part of the tale called "The Visionary, "afterward "The Assignation"; in 1839 in a magazine under the title "ToIanthe in Heaven"; and several times afterward in magazines and incollections. It fits admirably into the story "The Assignation, " whereit contains this additional stanza, readily understood in its setting:

 Alas! for that accursed time They bore thee o'er the billow, From Love to titled age and crime And an unholy pillow-- From me, and from our misty clime Where weeps the silver willow. 

TO F---- (Page 18)

Appeared in 1835 under the title "To Mary, " and in 1842 and 1843, "ToOne Departed. " It is not known to whom these forms were addressed. In1845 it again appeared with the above title, which is believed torefer to Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood, a poet of the time, whom Poegreatly admired. 

TO F----S S. O----D (Page 18)

First appeared in the _Southern Literary Messenger_(1835) as "LinesWritten in an Album, " addressed to Eliza White, a young daughter ofthe editor of the _Messenger_; in 1839 the same lines were addressed"To ----, " whose name is unknown; and in 1845 they were addressedunder the above title to Mrs. Osgood (see note on the preceding poem). 

TO ZANTE (Page 18)

Published in 1837, 1843, and 1845. In form this is a regularShakespearean sonnet. Zante is one of the principal Ionian islands, inancient times called Zacynthus. Again the poet writes of a fair islein the sea; point out other instances. Note the fondness for "nomore, " and find examples in other poems. As usual with Poe, the threadof thought is slight and indefinite; apparently the beautiful islandhas become "accursed ground" because of the death there of the "maidenthat is no more. "

1. Fairest of all flowers. There is a zantewood, or satinwood, but it does not take its name from this island. Poe associated thename of the island with the hyacinth, but there is no etymologicalconnection. He probably derived his fancy from a passage inChateaubriand's "Itineraire de Paris a Jerusalem, " page 53. 

13. Hyacinthine isle: a reference to the flowers of the island(see preceding note). 

14. "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" "Golden Isle! Flower ofthe Levant!" These are Italian terms for Zante; they occur in thepassage in Chateaubriand referred to in the note on line 1. 

BRIDAL BALLAD (Page 19)

Published in 1837, 1841, 1845, and greatly improved in revision. Thebride remembers her dead lover who died in battle, and wondersfearfully whether "the dead who is forsaken" knows and is unhappy. 

SILENCE (Page 20)

Published in 1840, 1843, and 1845. 

THE CONQUEROR WORM (Page 21)

Published in 1843 and 1845. The repulsive imagery recurs in several ofthe tales and poems, and shows one of the most morbid phases of Poe'simagination (see Introduction, page xxiv). It would hardly meet Poe'sown test of beauty, but the grim power of this terrible picture ispalpable enough. 

9. Mimes: actors, who in this case are men; mankind. 

13. Vast formless things: doubtless the Fates (consult Gayley's"Classic Myths"); at any rate beings who exercise the same powers. 

15. Condor wings. The condor is a great vulture of SouthAmerica; the word here suggests the Fates preying on human happiness, health, and life. 

18. Phantom: happiness, or perhaps any object of human desireor ambition. 

DREAM-LAND (Page 22)

Published in 1844 and 1845. The poem paints another of Poe'sextraordinary landscapes. 

3. Eidolon: phantom, specter, shade. 

6. Ultimate dim Thule. "Thule" was used by the ancients toindicate extreme northern regions; the Romans used the phrase "UltimaThule" to denote the most remote, unknown land. What does the allusionsignify here?

THE RAVEN (Page 24)

Published in 1845 in various magazines, first in the New York _EveningMirror_ of January 29. This is the most famous if not the best ofPoe's poems. There is a clear thread of narrative and greater dramaticinterest than in any other of the author's poems. If possible, read"The Philosophy of Composition, " in which Poe gives a remarkableaccount of the composition of this poem, an account which is to beaccepted, however, as explaining only the mechanical side of thework. This essay is included in Cody's "Best Poems and Essays" (seeBibliography, page xxxi). Read the comment in the Introduction, pagexxiv. Note the numerous alliterations. 

34. Thereat is. Was the idea phrased this way for any otherpurpose than to make a rhyme? Is it artistic?

38. Raven. Read an account of the bird in a natural history oran encyclopedia; it is frequently mentioned in English literature as abird of ill omen. 

41. Pallas: Minerva, goddess of wisdom. Consult Gayley's"Classic Myths. " Is a bust of Pallas appropriate for a library?

47. Plutonian: from Pluto, god of the underworld. 

64, 65. Burden: thought or theme. 

76-77. Gloated . .. Gloating. It is impossible to say just whatis suggested. It is characteristically vague. Find other examples inthis poem. 

80. Tinkled on the tufted floor. Not very easy to imagine. In"Ligeia, " Poe speaks of "carpets of tufted gold, " apparently meaningfabrics of very thick and rich material. Perhaps we may think of thetinkling as proceeding from tiny bells. 

81. "Wretch, " etc. The lover addresses himself. 

82. Nepenthe: a name given in Homer's "Odyssey" to a drugoffered to Helen in Egypt, the effect of which was to banish all griefand pain. Later the term was sometimes used for opium. 

89. Balm in Gilead. Gilead is a district on the banks of theJordan and the "balm" an herb of reputed medicinal value. The allusionhere is to Jeremiah viii. 22: "Is there no balm in Gilead? is there nophysician there?" The lover means to ask if there is any remedy forhis sorrow, any consolation. Perhaps he means, "Is there any solaceafter death?" or "Is there any solace either in this world or thenext?"

93. Aidenn: Eden, Paradise, from the Arabic form _Adn_; coinedby Poe for the rhyme. 

101. This line, Poe said in "The Philosophy of Composition, " firstbetrays clearly the allegorical nature of the poem. 

106. The lamp-light o'er him streaming. In answer to criticismon this line, Poe explained, "My conception was that of the bracketcandelabrum affixed against the wall, high up above the door and bust, as is often seen in the English palaces, and even in some of thebetter houses of New York. "

107, 108. In these last lines the allegory is fully revealed. 

EULALIE (Page 29)

Published in 1845 with the subtitle, "A Song. "

19. Astarte. See note on line 37 of "Ulalume, " page 189. 

TO M. L. S----- (Page 30)

Published March 13, 1847, and addressed to Mrs. Marie Louise Shew, whohad been a veritable angel of mercy in the Poe home. She relieved thepoverty and helped to care for Virginia (who died January 29), andafterward nursed Poe himself during his severe illness. Mrs. Shew hadhad some medical training and probably saved Poe's life. This briefpoem is instinct with a gratitude and reverence easy to understand, and is, for Poe, unusually spontaneous. 

ULALUME (Page 30)

Published in December, 1847, and in January, 1848. The earlier formcontained an additional stanza, afterward wisely omitted. Read thecomment on the poem in the Introduction, pages xxiv-xxv. 

5. Immemorial: properly means extending indefinitely into thepast. Poe may mean that the year has seemed endless to him, butapparently he uses the word in the sense of memorable. 

6, 7. Auber rhymes with October, Weir with year; thenames were coined by Poe for rhyme and tone color. Note theresemblance of "Weir" to "weird. "

8. Tarn: a small mountain lake. It is used provincially inEngland to mean a boggy or marshy tract. Poe used the word to signifya dark, stagnant pool. Cf. "The Fall of the House of Usher, " page 49. 

11. Cypress. What is its significance?

12. Psyche: soul. Cf. Note on line 14 of "To Helen, " page 183. 

14. Scoriac: a very rare word, from _scoria_ (lava). 

16. Yaanek: another specially coined word. 

35. Crescent: suggesting hope. 

37, 39. Astarte: a Phoenician goddess, as the deity of lovecorresponding to Venus (Aphrodite), and as moon goddess to Dian, orDiana (Artemis). But Diana was chaste and cold to the advances oflovers, which explains "she (Astarte) is warmer than Dian. "

43. Where the worm never dies: implies the gnawing of unendinggrief. Cf. Isaiah lxvi. 24, and Mark ix. 44, 46, 48. 

44. The Lion: the constellation Leo. 

64. Sibyllic: usually "sibylline, " prophetic; from "sibyl. "Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths. "

179. Legended tomb: having on it an inscription. 

TO ---- ---- (Page 33)

Published in March, 1848, and is another tribute to Mrs. Shew. Seenote on "To M. L. S-----, " page 188. 

9-10. The quotation is from George Peele's "David and Bethsabe, " anEnglish drama published in 1599:

 Or let the dew be sweeter far than that That hangs, like chains of pearl, on Hermon hill. 

14-15. Cf. The poem "Israfel, " and the notes on it. 

AN ENIGMA (Page 34)

Published in March, 1848. To find the name, read the first letter ofthe first line, the second letter of the second line, and so on. Inform this is a sonnet irregular in rhyme scheme. 

1. Solomon Don Dunce: a fanciful name for a stupid person. 

6. Petrarchan stuff: of or by Petrarch (1304-1374), a famousItalian writer of sonnets. 

10. Tuckermanities: a contemptuous allusion to the poeticefforts of Henry T. Tuckerman, a New England writer of the day. 

14. Dear names: Sarah Anna Lewis, a verse writer of the day, whom Poe admired. 

TO HELEN (Page 35)

Published in November, 1848; addressed to Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman(see Introduction, page xvii). Although her engagement to marry Poewas broken off, she continued to admire him and was faithful to hismemory after his death. The poem was written before Poe met Mrs. Whitman, and is said to have been suggested by the poet's havingcaught a glimpse of the lady walking in a garden by moonlight. 

48. Dian: Diana, the moon goddess. 

66. Venuses: refers at once to the planet Venus and to Venus, goddess of love. 

A VALENTINE (Page 37)

Published in 1849. The name is found as in "An Enigma, " by reading thefirst letter of the first line, the second of the second, and so on. 

2. Twins of Leda: Castor and Pollux, two stars in theconstellation Gemini. For the myth consult Gayley's "Classic Myths. "

3. Her own sweet name: Frances Sargent Osgood. See note on thelines "To F----, " page 185. 

10. Gordian knot. Explain this; consult an encyclopedia. 

14. Perdus: lost, a French word introduced to rhyme with "too. "

17. Lying: used in a double sense. 

18. Mendez Ferdinando Pinto, a Portuguese traveler (1509-1583), was said to have been the first white man to visit Japan. He wrote anaccount of his travels, which at the time was considered mereromancing. 

FOR ANNIE (Page 37)

Published in 1849, and addressed to Mrs. Richmond of Lowell, Massachusetts. This is the "Annie" so frequently referred to inbiographies of Poe, who also figures in his correspondence. Of all thewomen associated with Poe's later years (see Introduction, pages ), "Annie" was the object of his most sincere and ardent friendship, andwas his confidant in all his troubles, --including the courtship ofMrs. Whitman. Poe and Mrs. Clemm were frequent visitors at her home, and the latter found shelter there for a time after her "Eddie's"death. 

This poem is usually regarded as one of the author's poorest, thoughit has a distinctly individual character that must be recognized. ThusProfessor C. F. Richardson, in his "American Literature, " quotingseveral stanzas, remarks, "This is doggerel, but it is Poe's specialdoggerel. " Some of the lines really deserve this severe epithet, buthardly the entire poem. Its theme seems to be peace in death throughthe affection of Annie, following a life of passion and sorrow, and soregarded, it has some strength. 

THE BELLS (Page 41)

Published in 1849. Read the comment on this poem in the Introduction, page xxv. Though not especially characteristic of him, this is one ofPoe's most remarkable poems, as well as one of the most popular. Avery interesting account of its composition may be found inWoodberry's biography, pages 302-304, or in Harrison's biography, pages 286-288, or in the Stedman-Woodberry edition of Poe's Works, Vol. X, pages 183-186. 

10. Runic. Runes are the characters of the alphabet of theearly Germanic peoples. The allusion is intended to suggest mysteryand magic. Consult an unabridged dictionary or an encyclopedia. 

23. Gloats. What does the word mean here? Cf. Line 76 of "TheRaven, " and corresponding notes. 

ANNABEL LEE (Page 44)

Published in the _New York Tribune, _October 9, 1849, two days afterthe poet's death. Read the comment in the Introduction, page xxv. Notethe mid-rhymes in line 26, "chilling and killing, " and in line 32, "ever dissever"; point out other examples in "The Raven" and otherpoems. 

TO MY MOTHER (Page 46)

Published in 1849; in form, a regular Shakespearean sonnet. It is asincere tribute addressed to Mrs. Clemm, mother of Poe's girl wife, Virginia, a woman who was more than worthy of it. The tenderestaffection existed between the two, and Mrs. Clemm cared for him afterVirginia's death and grieved profoundly at his own. She lived until1871. 

ELDORADO (Page 46)

This first appeared in the Griswold edition of 1850; no earlierpublication is known. It was probably Poe's last composition, and thisstory of the knight's quest, its failure, and his gaze turned to "theValley of the Shadow, " is a fitting finale for the ill-starred poet(see comment in the Introduction, page xxv). 

Eldorado: a fabled city or country abounding in gold andprecious stones, and afterward any place of great wealth. The word isoften used figuratively. In a preface to an early volume of hispoetry, Poe alludes quite incidentally to "the poet's own kingdom--hisEl Dorado, " and in this sense the metaphor may be accepted here. 

Note the varying sense of the recurring rhyme, shadow. In thefirst stanza it is simply contrasted with the "sunshine" or happinessof life, in the second it implies the coming of discouragement anddespair, in the third it is the shadow of death cast before, in thefourth the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

THE HAUNTED PALACE (Page 59)

Published in the _Baltimore Museum_ in April, 1839, and in Septemberof the same year in _Burton's Gentleman's Magazine_ as part of thetale "The Fall of the House of Usher"; afterwards published in 1840, 1843, and 1845. It was altered very slightly in revision. Lowell wrotethat he knew of no modern poet who might not justly be proud of it(see Introduction, pages xxiii-xxiv). 

59. 24. Porphyrogene: from Greek words meaning "purple"and "begotten, " hence, born in the purple, royal. This term, or"porphyrogenitus, " was applied in the Byzantine empire to children ofthe monarch born after his accession to the throne. It is not clearwhether the word is used here as a descriptive adjective or as thename of the monarch. 

TALES

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER (Page 49)

Published first in 1839, and several times reprinted with revisions. Read the comment in the Introduction, page xxvii. Lowell said of thisstory: "Had its author written nothing else, it would alone have beenenough to stamp him as a man of genius, and a master of a classicstyle. "

This tale is one of the best to study as an example of the applicationof Poe's critical theory of the short story (see Introduction, pagexxvi). What is the "effect" sought? Is the main incident of the talewell adapted to produce this effect? Are the parts skillfully relatedto one another and to the whole? Is the setting suitable to the theme?What is the effect of the first sentence? Pick out a number of ratherunusual words which Poe seems particularly to like; observe theireffect. The adjectives are especially worth study; in the firstsentence try the effect of substituting for "soundless, " "quiet, " or"silent, " or "noiseless. "

49. Quotation: "His heart is a suspended lute; as soon as it istouched it resounds. " P. J. Beranger (1780-1857), a popular Frenchlyric poet. 

50. 12. Black and lurid tarn: see note to line 8 of "Ulalume, "page 189. Tarn is one of several words Poe particularly liked. 

58. 10. Low cunning. See if the reason for this encounterappears later. 

58 31. Ennuye: a French word meaning "wearied, " "bored. "

54. 5-24. The description of Usher is in the main a remarkably goodportrait of Poe himself. 

55. 20-30. Observe the extreme to which Poe goes in this study ofterror; it is the fear of fear that oppresses Usher. 

56. 2. Too shadowy here to be re-stated. Note the effect ofmaking this weird suggestion instead of a clear statement. 

57. 26. Von Weber (1786-1826), a famous German composer. 

58. 5. Henry Fuseli, or Fuesli (1742-1825), as he was known inEngland, was born in Zurich, Switzerland, and named Johann HeinrichFuessli. He was a professor in the Royal Academy and painted a seriesof highly imaginative pictures illustrating Shakespeare and Milton. 

59. The Haunted Palace. For notes see page 192. 

60. 30-31. Richard Watson (1737-1816), Bishop of Llandaff, wasfor a time professor of chemistry at Cambridge University and wrotepopular essays on that subject. James Gates Percival (1795-1856) wasan American poet, musician, linguist, surgeon, and scientist; it ispossible the reference is to Thomas Percival (1740-1804), an Englishphysician. Lazzaro Spallanzani (1729-1799) was an Italiannaturalist, distinguished in experimental physiology. 

61. 22-31. All of these titles have been traced, except the last, which Poe either invented, or, in quoting, altered. Some of the worksnamed he apparently had not read, since their character is not suitedto his purpose. Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset (1709-1777) was a Frenchpoet and playwright; the two works mentioned are poems, --the first, atale of an escaped parrot who stopped at a convent and shocked thenuns by his profanity. Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527) was afamous Italian historian and statesman, who wrote a celebratedtreatise called "The Prince"; "Belphegor" is a satire on marriage. Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772) was an eminent Swedishtheologian and religious mystic. Ludvig Holberg (1684-1754)was a great Danish poet and novelist; the work mentioned is one of hisbest known poems and has been translated into the principal languagesof Europe. Flud, Robert Fludd (1574-1637), was an Englishphysician, inventor, and mystic philosopher. Jean D'Indagine(flourished in the first half of the sixteenth century) was a priestof Steinheim, Germany, who wrote on palmistry and similar subjects. Marin Cureau de la Chambre (1594-1675), physician to Louis XIV, who was an adept in physiognomy, and wrote a work on "The Art ofJudging Men. " Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853) was a German romanticnovelist. Tommaso Campanella (1568-1639) was an Italian monkand philosopher, who suffered persecution by the Inquisition. Eymeric, Nicolas Eymericus (1320-1399), was a native of Gerona, Spain, who entered the Dominican order and rose to the rank ofchaplain to the Pope and Grand Inquisitor; his famous "DirectoriumInquisitorum" is an elaborate account of the Inquisition. PomponiusMela was a Latin writer of the first century A. D. , who wrote afamous work on geography "De Situ Orbis" (Concerning the Plan of theEarth). 

61. 31. Satyrs and Aegipans: in classic mythology the satyrs andminor deities of wood and field, with the body of a man and the feet, hair, and horns of a goat; Aegipans is practically equivalent to, andis also an epithet of Pan, the satyr-like rural god. 

61. 33-34. Curious book in quarto Gothic: printed in theblack-faced letters of mediaeval times. 

61. 35. The Latin title, which has not been found, means "Vigils forthe Dead according to the Choir of the Church of Mayence. "

66. 1-2. The "Mad Trist" of Sir Launcelot Canning has not been found;undoubtedly the title was coined and the quotations invented to fitthe text, as they do perfectly. 

69. 24-25. It was the work of the rushing gust. Note the fineeffect of the momentary suspense, the instant's disappointment carriedby this clause. 

WILLIAM WILSON

First published in a magazine in 1840 (see comment in theIntroduction, page xxvii). 

71. Quotation. William Chamberlayne, an English poet andphysician (1619-1689), who in 1659 published "Pharronida, a HeroicPoem. "

71. 18. Elah-Gabalus: usually Elagabulus, emperor of Rome from218-222, who indulged in the wildest debaucheries. 

72. 26-73 2. The description here is based on fact, apparentlybeing a true picture of the English school attended by Poe himself(see Introduction, page xii). 

73. 31. Draconian Laws: Draco was an Athenian legislator, who codifiedthe laws of his city in 621 B. C. The penalty for every offense wasdeath, and the laws were, therefore, said to be written in blood, notink. 

75. 5. Peine forte et dure: "punishment severe and merciless";a penalty formerly imposed by Enlish law upon persons who refused toplead on being arraigned for felony. It consisted in laying theaccused on his back on a bare floor and placing a great iron weight onhis chest until he consented to plead or died. There is one instanceof the infliction of this punishment in American colonial history:Giles Cory, accused of witchcraft, was pressed to death inSalem, Massachusetts, in 1692. 

75. 33. Exergues: the exergue is a term in numismatics tosignify the space under the principal figure on the reverse of a coin, usually containing the date or place of coining. 

76. 7. "Oh, le bon temps, que ce siecle de fer!" "Oh! the goodtime, the age of iron. "

86. 11. Herodes Atticus: a Greek born about A. D. 101, whoinherited from his father, of the same name, great wealth, to which headded by marriage. He was a noted teacher of rhetoric and became aRoman consul. 

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM (Page 94)

First published in a magazine in 1841 (see comment in theIntroduction, pages xxvii-xxviii). 

94. Quotation. Joseph Glanville, or Glanvill (1636-1680), anEnglish clergyman and author of several works on philosophy andreligion. The quotation has been found in the writings of Glanvill byProfessor Woodberry, but Poe quoted rather carelessly, and his extractvaries slightly from the original. The Democritus referred to was afamous Greek philosopher, born about 470 B. C. , who taught the atomictheory. 

94. 1-3. Note the effect of the opening sentences in seizing attentionand arousing interest at once. 

95. 21. Nubian geographer . .. Mare Tenebrarum. The sameallusion occurs in "Eleonora, " and in "Eureka" Poe speaks of "the_Mare Tenebrarum_, --an ocean well described by the Nubian geographer, Ptolemy Hephestion. " Apparently he refers to Claudius Ptolemy, acelebrated philosopher who flourished in Alexandria in the secondcentury A. D. 

His theory, known as the Ptolemaic System, remained the standardauthority in astronomy to the end of the Middle Ages, while hisgeography was accepted until the era of the great discoveries openedin the fifteenth century. Ptolemy is thought to have been born inEgypt, and it is impossible to say what grounds Poe had for callinghim Nubian. _Mare Tenebrarum_ means "sea of darkness, " the Atlantic. 

96. 10-15. This is a real description of the geography of the regionof the Lofoden islands. Refer to a good map of Norway. 

97. 27. Maelstrom: from Norwegian words meaning "grind" and"stream. " The swift tidal currents and eddies of the Lofoden islandsare very dangerous, but the early accounts are greatly exaggerated, and Poe's description is, aside from being based on these accounts, purely imaginative. 

97. 32. Jonas Ramus. Professor Woodberry, whose study of Poe'stext has been exhaustive, has an interesting note to this effect: Poeused an article in an early edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, inwhich a passage was taken from Pontoppidan's "The Natural History ofNorway" without acknowledgment, this in turn having been taken (withproper acknowledgment) from Ramus. The Britannica, in the ninthedition, after giving Poe credit for "erudition taken solely from aprevious edition of this very encyclopedia, which in its turn hadstolen the learning from another, quotes the parts that Poe inventedout of his own head. " See "Whirlpool" in the Britannica. 

98. 26-27. Norway mile: a little over four and a half Englishmiles. 

99. 19. Phlegethon: a river of Hades in which flowed flamesinstead of water. 

100. 4. Athanasius Kircher (1601-1680) was a learned Roman Catholicwriter, a native of Germany. See "Whirlpool" in the Britannica. 

105. 2. What a scene it was to light up! Interest in thenarrative should not hurry the reader too much to appreciate thisscene, --the magnificent setting of the adventure. 

109. 10. Tottering bridge, etc. : Al Sirat, the bridge fromearth over the abyss of hell to the Mohammedan paradise. It is asnarrow as a sword's edge, and while the good traverse it in safety, the wicked plunge to torment. 

111. 35. Archimedes of Syracuse (i. E. 287--212) was thegreatest of ancient mathematicians; the work to which Poe refers dealswith floating bodies. 

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH (Page 113)

First published in _Graham's Magazine_ for May, 1842 (see comment inthe Introduction, page xxvii). 

113. The "Red Death" is a product of Poe's own imagination;there is no record of such a disease in medical history. 

113. 3. Avatar: a word from Hindoo mythology, in which it meansan incarnation. The word is used here in its secondary sense, --avisible manifestation. 

113. 11. This paragraph suggests the circumstances under whichBoccaccio represents the stories of his famous "Decameron. " Acomparison will be interesting. 

116. 3. Decora: possibly used as a plural of "decorum, "propriety; probably it is intended to suggest ornamentation. 

116. 14. Hernani: a well-known tragedy by the great Frenchwriter, Victor Hugo (1802-1885). 

THE GOLD-BUG (Page 120)

First published in the _Dollar Newspaper_ of Philadelphia in June, 1843, as the $100 prize story (see comment in the Introduction, pagexxviii). This is the best and most widely read of the storiesregarding Captain Kidd's treasure. Read an account of Captain Kidd inan encyclopedia or dictionary of biography. 

Is the main incident of the story the discovery of the treasure or thesolution of the cryptogram? Would the first satisfy you without thesecond? The plot is worthy of careful study. Consider the followingpoints, for example: the significance of the chilly day, howLieutenant G---- affects the course of events, the incident of the dogrushing in, the effect of introducing the gold-bug and making it thetitle of the story. If Poe's purpose was to make a story ofcryptography, think of some of the innumerable plots he might haveused, and see what you think of the effectiveness of the one chosen. 

120. Quotation. Arthur Murphy (1727-1805), an English actor andplaywright, wrote a comedy called "All in the Wrong, " but ProfessorW. P. Trent, who examined the play, failed to find Poe's quotation. 

120. 15. Poe, while serving in the army, was stationed at FortMoultrie, and should have known the region well, but his descriptionis said to be inaccurate. 

121. 11. Jan Swammerdamm (1637-1680), a Dutch naturalist, whodevoted most of his time to the study of insects. 

122. 7. Scarabaeus: Latin for "beetle, " and the scientific term inentomology. While there are various golden beetles, Poe's was acreation of his own. 

122. 26. This is one of the early attempts to use negro dialect. Poe'sefforts are rather clumsy, considering his long residence in theSouth. The reader will notice a number of improbable expressions ofJupiter's, introduced for humorous effect, but the general characterof the old negro is portrayed, in the main, very well. 

124. 5. Scarabaeus caput bominis: man's-head beetle. 

127. 17. Brusquerie: brusqueness, abruptness. 

127. 20. Solus: Latin for "alone. " The Latin word isaltogether unnecessary. Poe was often rather affected in the use offoreign words and phrases. 

128. 22. Empressement: French for "eagerness, " cordiality. 

132. 31. Liriodendron Tulipifera: the scientific name for thetulip tree, which sometimes attains a height of 140 feet and adiameter of 9 feet. 

138. 25-26. Curvets and caracoles: rare terms belonging tohorsemanship; the first is a low leap, the second a sudden wheel. 

142. 13. Counters: pieces of money, coins; or the meaning maybe imitation coins for reckoning or for counting in games. 

142. 16. No American money. Why?

142. 31. Bacchanalian figures: figures dancing and drinkingwine at a celebration of the worship of Bacchus, god of wine. 

143. 29. Parchment. What is the difference?

147. 20. Aqua regia: "royal water, " so called because itdissolves gold, is a mixture of nitric and hydrochloric acids. 

150. 15. Golconda: a ruined city of India, once famous as aplace for the cutting and polishing of diamonds; used figuratively inthe sense of a mine of wealth. 

150. 30. Read Poe's article on "Cryptography, " included in hiscollected works. 

151. 13. Spanish main: that part of the Caribbean Sea adjacentto the coast of South America. It was part of the route of Spanishmerchant vessels between Spain and her new-world possessions, and wasinfested with pirates. 

THE PURLOINED LETTER (Page 160)

First published in 1845 (see comment on the detective stories in theIntroduction, page xxviii). This story is peculiarly original in itsincidents and subtle in its reasoning. "The Murders in the Rue Morgue"should certainly be read also, and perhaps it will prove of moresustained interest to the majority of readers. 

160. Quotation. Lucius Annaeus Seneca (B. C. 4-A. D. 65) was acelebrated Roman philosopher and tutor of the Emperor Nero. Thequotation means: "Nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessiveacumen. "

160. 3. Dupin: introduced in "The Murders in the Rue Morgue. "

160. 4-5. Au troisieme: French, literally, "on the third, " butthe meaning is the fourth floor, because the count is begun above theground floor; Faubourg St. Germain: an aristocratic section ofParis. 

160. 15-16. Monsieur G----: introduced in "The Murders in theRue Morgue. "

164. 3. Hotel: in French usage, a dwelling of somepretension, --a mansion. 

164. 7. Au fait: French for familiar, expert. 

168. 26. John Abernethy (1764-1831), an eminent Englishsurgeon, was noted for his brusque manners and his eccentricities. 

171. 15-16. Francois, Due de la Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) wasa French moralist, author of the famous "Maxims"; Jean de laBruyere (1645-1696) was a French essayist; see notes onMachiavelli and Campanella under "The Fall of the Houseof Usher, " page 194. 

172. 19. Recherche: French for "sought after, " selected withcare. 

173. 1. Non distributio medii: "undistributed middle, " a termin logic for a form of fallacious reasoning. Consult an encyclopedia, articles on "Logic, " "Syllogism, " and "Fallacy, " or the CenturyDictionary under "Fallacy. "

173. 16. Nicholas Chamfort (1741-1794), a Frenchman, was saidto be the best conversationalist of his day, and wrote famous maximsand epigrams. The quotation means, "It is safe to wager that everypopular idea, every received convention, is a piece of foolishness, because it has suited the majority. "

173. 27-28. Ambitus: a going round, illegal striving foroffice; religio: scrupulousness, conscientiousness; homineshonesti: men of distinction. 

174. 17. Jacob Bryant (1715-1804), an Englishman; his work onmythology is of no value. 

175. 5. Intriguant: an intriguer. 

176. 3. Vis inertiae: force of inertia. 

180. 5. Facilis descensus Averni: "the descent to Avernus iseasy. " Virgil's "Aeneid, " VI, 126; Cranch's translation, VI, 161-162. Lake Avernus was, in classical mythology, the entrance toHades. Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths. "

180. 6. Angelica Catalani (1780-1849), a famous Italian singer. 

180. 9. Monstrum horrendum: a dreadful monster. 

180. 23-24. "A design so baneful, if not worthy of Atreus, is worthyof Thyestes. " Atreus and Thyestes were brothers to whom, in classicstory, the most terrible crimes were attributed. 

180. 25. Prosper J. De Crebillon (1674-1762), a noted Frenchtragic poet. The quotation is from "Atree et Thyeste. "