by Edger Allen Poe

Illustrated by Harry Clark and Arthur Rackham

1. The Murders in the Rue Morgue. 2.Metzengerstein

3. Ligeia 4. The Masque of the Red Death

"Tales of Mystery and Imagination"

The Murders in the Rue Morgue

by Edger Allen Poe

Illustrated by Harry Clark and Arthur Rackham

"Gnashing it's teeth and flashing fire from its eyesit flew upon the body of the girl"

The Murders in the Rue Morgue

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

Sir Thomas Browne

The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analysis. We appreciate themonly in their effects. We know of them, among other things, that they are always to their possessor, when inordinatelypossessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises ascall his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which _disentangles._ He derives pleasure from eventhe most trivial occupations bringing his talent into play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics; exhibitingin his solutions of each a degree of _acumen_ which appears to the ordinary apprehension preternatural. His results,brought about by the very soul and essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of intuition. The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by mathematical study, and especially by that highest branch of itwhich, unjustly, and merely on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, as if _par excellence_, analysis. Yet tocalculate is not in itself to analyse. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the other. It follows that thegame of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise, but simplyprefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations very much at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assertthat the higher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game ofdraughts than by a the elaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces have different and _bizarre_ motions, with

various and variable values, what is only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound. The _attention_ ishere called powerfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an oversight is committed resulting in injury or defeat. The possiblemoves being not only manifold but involute, the chances of such oversights are multiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it isthe more concentrative rather than the more acute player who conquers. In draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are_unique_ and have but little variation, the probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, and the mere attention being leftcomparatively unemployed, what advantages are obtained by either party are obtained by superior _acumen_. To be lessabstract - Let us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, and where, of course, no oversightis to be expected. It is obvious that here the victory can be decided (the players being at all equal) only by some _recherche_movement, the result of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived of ordinary resources, the analyst throws himself intothe spirit of his opponent, identifies himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole methods(sometime indeed absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into error or hurry into miscalculation. Whist has long been noted for its influence upon what is termed the calculating power; and men of the highest order ofintellect have been known to take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyonddoubt there is nothing of a similar nature so greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best chess-player in Christendom_may_ be little more than the best player of chess; but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all those moreimportant undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game whichincludes a comprehension of _all_ the sources whence legitimate advantage may be derived. These are not only manifold butmultiform, and lie frequently among recesses of thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary understanding. To observeattentively is to remember distinctly; and, so far, the concentrative chess-player will do very well at whist; while the rules ofHoyle (themselves based upon the mere mechanism of the game) are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. Thus to havea retentive memory, and to proceed by "the book," are points commonly regarded as the sum total of good playing. But it isin matters beyond the limits of mere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. He makes, in silence, a host of observationsand inferences. So, perhaps, do his companions; and the difference in the extent of the information obtained, lies not somuch in the validity of the inference as in the quality of the observation. The necessary knowledge is that of _what_ toobserve. Our player confines himself not at all; nor, because the game is the object, does he reject deductions from thingsexternal to the game. He examines the countenance of his partner, comparing it carefully with that of each of his opponents.He considers the mode of assorting the cards in each hand; often counting trump by trump, and honor by honor, through theglances bestowed by their holders upon each. He notes every variation of face as the play progresses, gathering a fund ofthought from the differences in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, or of chagrin. From the manner ofgathering up a trick he judges whether the person taking it can make another in the suit. He recognises what is playedthrough feint, by the air with which it is thrown upon the table. A casual or inadvertent word; the accidental dropping orturning of a card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its concealment; the counting of the tricks,with the order of their arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation, eagerness or trepidation - all afford, to his apparentlyintuitive perception, indications of the true state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having been played, he is in fullpossession of the contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with as absolute a precision of purpose asif the rest of the party had turned outward the faces of their own. The analytical power should not be confounded with ample ingenuity; for while the analyst is necessarily ingenious, theingenious man is often remarkably incapable of analysis. The constructive or combining power, by which ingenuity isusually manifested, and to which the phrenologists (I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing it aprimitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellect bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attractedgeneral observation among writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there exists a difference fargreater, indeed, than that between the fancy and the imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It will be found,in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the _truly_ imaginative never otherwise than analytic. The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in the light of a commentary upon the propositions justadvanced. Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18--, I there became acquainted with a Monsieur C.Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of an excellent - indeed of an illustrious family, but, by a variety of untowardevents, had been reduced to such poverty that the energy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestirhimself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in hispossession a small remnant of his patrimony; and, upon the income arising from this, he managed, by means of a rigorouseconomy, to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were his soleluxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained. Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where the accident of our both being in search of thesame very rare and very remarkable volume, brought us into closer communion. We saw each other again and again. I wasdeeply interested in the little family history which he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman indulgeswhenever mere self is his theme. I was astonished, too, at the vast extent of his reading; and, above all, I felt my soulenkindled within me by the wild fervor, and the vivid freshness of his imagination. Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought,I felt that the societyof such a man would be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling I frankly confided to him. It wasat length arranged that we should live together during my stay in the city; and as my worldly circumstances were somewhatless embarrassed than his own, I was permitted to be at the expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which suited therather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, long deserted through superstitions intowhich we did not inquire, and tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Faubourg St. Germain. Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen - although,perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of our

retirement had been carefully kept a secret from my own former associates; and it had been many years since Dupin hadceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselves alone. It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the Night for her own sake; and intothis _bizarrerie_, as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wild whims with a perfect _abandon_. The sabledivinity would not herself dwell with us always; but we could counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn of the morning weclosed all the messy shutters of our old building; lighting a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed, threw out only theghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we then busied our souls in dreams - reading, writing, or conversing, untilwarned by the clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the streets arm in arm, continuing thetopics of the day, or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of the populous city,that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford. At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although from his rich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) apeculiar analytic ability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise - if not exactly in its display - anddid not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived. He boastedto me, with a low chuckling laugh, that most men, in respectto himself, wore windows in their bosoms, and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct and very startling proofs ofhis intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at these moments was frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant inexpression; while his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have sounded petulantly but for thedeliberateness and entire distinctness of the enunciation. Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon theold philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a double Dupin - the creative and the resolvent. Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailing any mystery, or penning any romance. What I havedescribed in the Frenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseased intelligence. But of the characterof his remarks at the periods in question an example will best convey the idea. We were strolling one night down a long dirty street in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Being both, apparently, occupiedwith thought, neither of us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin broke forth with these words: "He is a very little fellow, that's true, and would do better for the Theatre des Varietes." "There can be no doubt of that," I replied unwittingly, and not at first observing (so much had I been absorbed inreflection) the extraordinary manner in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. In an instant afterward Irecollected myself, and my astonishment was profound. "Dupin," said I, gravely, "this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcelycredit my senses. How was it possible you should know I was thinking of ----- ?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubtwhether he really knew of whom I thought. -- "of Chantilly," said he, "why do you pause? You were remarking to yourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him fortragedy." This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections. Chantilly was a _quondam_ cobbler of the Rue St.Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had attempted the _role_ of Xerxes, in Crebillon's tragedy so called, and been notoriouslyPasquinaded for his pains. "Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "the method - if method there is - by which you have been enabled to fathommy soul in this matter." In fact I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express. "It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who brought you to the conclusion that the mender of soles was not ofsufficient height for Xerxes _et id genus omne_." "The fruiterer! - you astonish me - I know no fruiterer whomsoever." "The man who ran up against you as we entered the street - it may have been fifteen minutes ago." I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head a large basket of apples, had nearly thrown me down,by accident, as we passed from the Rue C ---- into the thoroughfare where we stood; but what this had to do with Chantilly Icould not possibly understand. There was not a particle of _charlatanerie_ about Dupin. "I will explain," he said, "and that you may comprehend allclearly, we will first retrace the course of your meditations, from the moment in which I spoke to you until that of the_rencontre_ with the fruiterer in question. The larger links of the chain run thus - Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols, Epicurus,Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer." There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, amused themselves in retracing the steps by whichparticular conclusions of their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full of interest and he who attempts itfor the first time is astonished by the apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between the starting-point and thegoal. What, then, must have been my amazement when I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when Icould not help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued: "We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving the Rue C ---- . This was the last subject wediscussed. As we crossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head, brushing quickly past us, thrust youupon a pile of paving stones collected at a spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You stepped upon one of the loosefragments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at the pile,and then proceeded in silence. I was not particularly attentive to what you did; but observation has become with me, of late,a species of necessity. "You kept your eyes upon the ground - glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (sothat I saw you were still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been paved, byway of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving your lipsmove, I could not doubt that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species ofpavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the

theories of Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yetwith how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I feltthat you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great _nebula_ in Orion, and I certainly expected that you woulddo so. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter _tirade_ uponChantilly, which appeared in yesterday's '_Musee_,' the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler s changeof name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the line

Perdidit antiquum litera sonum.

I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from certain pungencies connected with thisexplanation, I was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to combine thetwo ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed over yourlips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you drawyourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point Iinterrupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, be was a very little fellow - that Chantilly - he would do better at the_Theatre des Varietes_." Not long after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the "Gazette des Tribunaux," when the followingparagraphs arrested our attention.

"and eight or ten of the neighbors entered accompanied by two _gendarmes_. By this time the cries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more roughvoices in angry contention were distinguished and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house."

"EXTRAORDINARY MURDERS. - This morning, about three o'clock, the inhabitants of the Quartier St. Roch werearoused from sleep by a succession of terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth story of a house in the RueMorgue, known to be in the sole occupancy of one Madame L'Espanaye, and her daughter Mademoiselle CamilleL'Espanaye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admission in the usual manner, the gateway wasbroken in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of the neighbors entered accompanied by two _gendarmes_. By this time thecries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more rough voices in angry contention weredistinguished and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. As the second landing was reached, these sounds,also, had ceased and everything remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves and hurried from room to room.Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth story, (the door of which, being found locked, with the key inside, wasforced open,) a spectacle presented itself which struck every one present not less with horror than with astonishment. "The apartment was in the wildest disorder - the furniture broken and thrown about in all directions. There was only onebedstead; and from this the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor,

besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two or three long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled in blood,and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, threelarge silver spoons, three smaller of_ metal d'Alger_, and two bags, containing nearly four thousand francs in gold. Thedrawers of a _bureau_, which stood in one corner were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although many articles stillremained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under the _bed_ (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key stillin the door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of little consequence. "Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantity of soot being observed in the fire-place, asearch was made in the chimney, and (horrible to relate!) the; corpse of the daughter, head downward, was draggedtherefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Uponexamining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it had been thrust up anddisengaged. Upon the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, and deep indentations of fingernails, as if the deceased had been throttled to death. "After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, without farther discovery, the party made its way into asmall paved yard in the rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, uponan attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated - the former so much so asscarcely to retain any semblance of humanity. "To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightest clew." The next day's paper had these additional particulars. "_The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue._ Many individuals have been examined in relation to this most extraordinary andfrightful affair. [The word 'affaire' has not yet, in France, that levity of import which it conveys with us,] "but nothingwhatever has transpired to throw light upon it. We give below all the material testimony elicited. "_Pauline Dubourg_, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased for three years, having washed for themduring that period. The old lady and her daughter seemed on good terms - very affectionate towards each other. They wereexcellent pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode or means of living. Believed that Madame L. told fortunes for aliving. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any persons in the house when she called for the clothes or took themhome. Was sure that they had no servant in employ. There appeared to be no furniture in any part of the building except inthe fourth story. "_Pierre Moreau_, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of selling small quantities of tobacco and snuff toMadame L'Espanaye for nearly four years. Was born in the neighborhood, and has always resided there. The deceased andher daughter had occupied the house in which the corpses were found, for more than six years. It was formerly occupied bya jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons. The house was the property of Madame L. She becamedissatisfied with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to let any portion. The oldlady was childish. Witness had seen the daughter some five or six times during the six years. The two lived an exceedinglyretired life - were reputed to have money. Had heard it said among the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes - did notbelieve it. Had never seen any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter once or twice, and aphysician some eight or ten times. "Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No one was spoken of as frequenting the house. It wasnot known whether there were any living connexions of Madame L. and her daughter. The shutters of the front windowswere seldom opened. Those in the rear were always closed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth story. Thehouse was a good house - not very old. "_Isidore Muset_, _gendarme_, deposes that he was called to the house about three o'clock in the morning, and foundsome twenty or thirty persons at the gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced it open, at length, with a bayonet -not with a crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate, and boltedneither at bottom not top. The shrieks were continued until the gate was forced - and then suddenly ceased. They seemed tobe screams of some person (or persons) in great agony - were loud and drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the wayup stairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention - the one a gruff voice, the othermuch shriller - a very strange voice. Could distinguish some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Waspositive that it was not a woman's voice. Could distinguish the words '_sacre_' and '_diable._' The shrill voice was that of aforeigner. Could not be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make out what was said, butbelieved the language to be Spanish. The state of the room and of the bodies was described by this witness as we describedthem yesterday. "_Henri Duval_, a neighbor, and by trade a silver-smith, deposes that he was one of the party who first entered the house.Corroborates the testimony of Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance, they reclosed the door, to keep out thecrowd, which collected very fast, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, this witness thinks, was that ofan Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could not be sure that it was a man's voice. It might have been a woman's. Wasnot acquainted with the Italian language. Could not distinguish the words, but was convinced by the intonation that thespeaker was an Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both frequently. Was sure that the shrillvoice was not that of either of the deceased. "-- _Odenheimer, restaurateur._ This witness volunteered his testimony. Not speaking French, was examined through aninterpreter. Is a native of Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes -probably ten. They were long and loud - very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered the building.Corroborated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrill voice was that of a man - of aFrenchman. Could not distinguish the words uttered. They were loud and quick - unequal - spoken apparently in fear aswell as in anger. The voice was harsh - not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff voice said

repeatedly '_sacre_,' '_diable_,' and once '_mon Dieu._' "_Jules Mignaud_, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder Mignaud. Madame L'Espanayehad some property. Had opened an account with his banking house in the spring of the year - (eight years previously). Madefrequent deposits in small sums. Had checked for nothing until the third day before her death, when she took out in personthe sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk went home with the money. "_Adolphe Le Bon_, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in question, about noon, he accompanied MadameL'Espanaye to her residence with the 4000 francs, put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L.appeared and took from his hands one of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed anddeparted. Did not see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street - very lonely. "_William Bird_, tailor deposes that he was one of the party who entered the house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paristwo years. Was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of aFrenchman. Could make out several words, but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly '_sacre_' and '_mon Dieu._'There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling - a scraping and scuffling sound. The shrill voice wasvery loud - louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that of a German.Might have been a woman's voice. Does not understand German. "Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the door of the chamber in which was found the bodyof Mademoiselle L. was locked on the inside when the party reached it. Every thing was perfectly silent - no groans ornoises of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room, were downand firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms was closed, but not locked. The door leading from the frontroom into the passage was locked, with the key on the inside. A small room in the front of the house, on the fourth story, atthe head of the passage was open, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes, and so forth. Thesewere carefully removed and searched. There was not an inch of any portion of the house which was not carefully searched.Sweeps were sent up and down the chimneys. The house was a four story one, with garrets (_mansardes._) A trap-door onthe roof was nailed down very securely - did not appear to have been opened for years. The time elapsing between thehearing of the voices in contention and the breaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses. Somemade it as short as three minutes - some as long as five. The door was opened with difficulty. "_Alfonzo Garcio_, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain. Was one of the partywho entered the house. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive of the consequences of agitation. Heardthe voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was said. The shrill voice wasthat of an Englishman - is sure of this. Does not understand the English language, but judges by the intonation. "_Alberto Montani_, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in question.The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The speaker appeared to be expostulating. Couldnot make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. Corroborates thegeneral testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed with a native of Russia. "Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the rooms on the fourth story were too narrow toadmit the passage of a human being. By 'sweeps' were meant cylindrical sweeping brushes, such as are employed by thosewho clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up and down every flue in the house. There is no back passage by whichany one could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. The body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmlywedged in the chimney that it could not be got down until four or five of the party united their strength. "_Paul Dumas_, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies about day-break. They were both then lying onthe sacking of the bedstead in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse of the young lady was muchbruised and excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney would sufficiently account for these appearances.The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep scratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spotswhich were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was fearfully discolored, and the eye-balls protruded. The tonguehad been partially bitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of the stomach, produced, apparently, by thepressure of a knee. In the opinion of M. Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person orpersons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were more or lessshattered. The left _tibia_ much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised anddiscolored. It was not possible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad bar of iron - achair - any large, heavy, and obtuse weapon would have produced such results, if wielded by the hands of a very powerfulman. No woman could have inflicted the blows with any weapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, wasentirely separated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been cut with some very sharpinstrument - probably with a razor. "_Alexandre Etienne_, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the testimony, and theopinions of M. Dumas. "Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several other persons were examined. A murder so mysterious, andso perplexing in all its particulars, was never before committed in Paris - if indeed a murder has been committed at all. Thepolice are entirely at fault - an unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadow of a clewapparent." The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement still continued in the Quartier St. Roch - that thepremises in question had been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses instituted, but all to no purpose. Apostscript, however, mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned - although nothing appeared tocriminate him, beyond the facts already detailed. Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair -- at least so I judged from his manner, for he made no

comments. It was only after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked me my opinion respectingthe murders. I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by which it would bepossible to trace the murderer. "We must not judge of the means," said Dupin, "by this shell of an examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for_acumen_, are cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond the method of the moment. Theymake a vast parade of measures; but, not unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to put us in mindof Monsieur Jourdain's calling for his _robe-de-chambre - pour mieux entendre la musique._ The results attained by themare not unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about by simple diligence and activity. When thesequalities are unavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser and a persevering man. But, withouteducated thought, he erred continually by the very intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by holding the objecttoo close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of thematter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too profound. Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards themore important knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her,and not upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The modes and sources of this kind of error are well typified in thecontemplation of the heavenly bodies. To look at a star by glances - to view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it theexterior portions of the _retina_ (more susceptible of feeble impressions of light than the interior), is to behold the stardistinctly - is to have the best appreciation of its lustre - a lustre which grows dim just in proportion as we turn our vision_fully_ upon it. A greater number of rays actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in the former, there is the morerefined capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; and it is possible to make evenVenus herself vanish from the firmanent by a scrutiny too sustained, too concentrated, or too direct. "As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for ourselves, before we make up an opinion respecting them.An inquiry will afford us amusement," [I thought this an odd term, so applied, but said nothing] "and, besides, Le Bon oncerendered me a service for which I am not ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our own eyes. I know G----, thePrefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission." The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one of those miserable thoroughfareswhich intervene between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when we reached it; as thisquarter is at a great distance from that in which we resided. The house was readily found; for there were still many personsgazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, from the opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisianhouse, with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding panel in the window, indicating a _logede concierge._ Before going in we walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again turning, passed in the rear ofthe building - Dupin, meanwhile examining the whole neighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention forwhich I could see no possible object. Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, and, having shown our credentials, were admittedby the agents in charge. We went up stairs - into the chamber where the body of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found,and where both the deceased still lay. The disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist. I saw nothing beyondwhat had been stated in the "Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized every thing - not excepting the bodies of thevictims. We then went into the other rooms, and into the yard; a _gendarme_ accompanying us throughout. Theexamination occupied us until dark, when we took our departure. On our way home my companion stepped in for a momentat the office of one of the daily papers. I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that _Je les menagais_: - for this phrase there is no Englishequivalent. It was his humor, now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the murder, until about noon the next day. Hethen asked me, suddenly, if I had observed any thing _peculiar_ at the scene of the atrocity. There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word "peculiar," which caused me to shudder, without knowingwhy. "No, nothing _peculiar_," I said; "nothing more, at least, than we both saw stated in the paper." "The 'Gazette,' " he replied, "has not entered, I fear, into the unusual horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions ofthis print. It appears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very reason which should cause it to beregarded as easy of solution - I mean for the _outre_ character of its features. The police are confounded by the seemingabsence of motive - not for the murder itself - but for the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seemingimpossibility of reconciling the voices heard in contention, with the facts that no one was discovered up stairs but theassassinated Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress without the notice of the party ascending.The wild disorder of the room; the corpse thrust, with the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful mutilation of thebody of the old lady; these considerations, with those just mentioned, and others which I need not mention, have sufficed toparalyze the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted _acumen_, of the government agents. They have fallen intothe gross but common error of confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is by these deviations from the plane of theordinary, that reason feels its way, if at all, in its search for the true. In investigations such as we are now pursuing, itshould not be so much asked 'what has occurred,' as 'what has occurred that has never occurred before.' In fact, the facilitywith which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent insolubility inthe eyes of the police." I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment. "I am now awaiting," continued he, looking toward the door of our apartment - "I am now awaiting a person who,although perhaps not the perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measure implicated in their perpetration.Of the worst portion of the crimes committed, it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am right in this supposition; for

upon it I build my expectation of reading the entire riddle. I look for the man here - in this room - every moment. It is truethat he may not arrive; but the probability is that he will. Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here arepistols; and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their use." I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing what I heard, while Dupin went on, very much as if in asoliloquy. I have already spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His discourse was addressed to myself; but his voice,although by no means loud, had that intonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great distance.His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall. "That the voices heard in contention," he said, "by the party upon the stairs, were not the voices of the womenthemselves, was fully proved by the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whether the old lady could havefirst destroyed the daughter and afterward have committed suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method; forthe strength of Madame L'Espanaye would have been utterly unequal to the task of thrusting her daughter's corpse up thechimney as it was found; and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirely preclude the idea of self-destruction.Murder, then, has been committed by some third party; and the voices of this third party were those heard in contention. Letme now advert - not to the whole testimony respecting these voices - but to what was _peculiar_ in that testimony. Did youobserve any thing peculiar about it?" I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that of a Frenchman, there was muchdisagreement in regard to the shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice. "That was the evidence itself," said Dupin, "but it was not the peculiarity of the evidence. You have observed nothingdistinctive. Yet there _was_ something to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark, agreed about the gruff voice; theywere here unanimous. But in regard to the shrill voice, the peculiarity is - not that they disagreed - but that, while an Italian,an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and a Frenchman attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as that _of aforeigner_. Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his own countrymen. Each likens it - not to the voice of anindividual of any nation with whose language he is conversant - but the converse. The Frenchman supposes it the voice of aSpaniard, and 'might have distinguished some words _had he been acquainted with the Spanish._' The Dutchman maintainsit to have been that of a Frenchman; but we find it stated that '_not understanding French this witness was examinedthrough an interpreter._' The Englishman thinks it the voice of a German, and '_does not understand German._' TheSpaniard 'is sure' that it was that of an Englishman, but 'judges by the intonation' altogether, '_as he has no knowledge ofthe English._' The Italian believes it the voice of a Russian, but '_has never conversed with a native of Russia._' A secondFrenchman differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive that the voice was that of an Italian; but, _not being cognizant ofthat tongue_, is, like the Spaniard, 'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have reallybeen, about which such testimony as this _could_ have been elicited! - in whose _tones_, even, denizens of the five greatdivisions of Europe could recognise nothing familiar! You will say that it might have been the voice of an Asiatic - of anAfrican. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris; but, without denying the inference, I will now merely call yourattention to three points. The voice is termed by one witness 'harsh rather than shrill.' It is represented by two others tohave been 'quick and _unequal._' No words - no sounds resembling words - were by any witness mentioned asdistinguishable. "I know not," continued Dupin, "what impression I may have made, so far, upon your own understanding; but I do nothesitate to say that legitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony - the portion respecting the gruff and shrillvoices - are in themselves sufficient to engender a suspicion which should give direction to all farther progress in theinvestigation of the mystery. I said 'legitimate deductions;' but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed to implythat the deductions are the _sole_ proper ones, and that the suspicion arises _inevitably_ from them as the single result.What the suspicion is, however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear in mind that, with myself, it was sufficientlyforcible to give a definite form - a certain tendency - to my inquiries in the chamber. "Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shall we first seek here? The means of egress employedby the murderers. It is not too much to say that neither of us believe in preternatural events. Madame and MademoiselleL'Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. The doers of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how?Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and that mode _must_ lead us to a definite decision. - Let usexamine, each by each, the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were in the room where MademoiselleL'Espanaye was found, or at least in the room adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then only from these twoapartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, inevery direction. No _secret_ issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, not trusting to _their_ eyes, I examined with myown. There were, then, no secret issues. Both doors leading from the rooms into the passage were securely locked, with thekeys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys. These, although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above the hearths, willnot admit, throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The impossibility of egress, by means already stated, being thusabsolute, we are reduced to the windows. Through those of the front room no one could have escaped without notice fromthe crowd in the street. The murderers _must_ have passed, then, through those of the back room. Now, brought to thisconclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparentimpossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that these apparent 'impossibilities' are, in reality, not such. "There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed by furniture, and is wholly visible. The lowerportion of the other is hidden from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which is thrust close up against it. The formerwas found securely fastened from within. It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. A large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Uponexamining the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failedalso. The police were now entirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And, _therefore_, it was thought a

matter of supererogation to withdraw the nails and open the windows. "My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for the reason I have just given - because here it was, Iknew, that all apparent impossibilities _must_ be proved to be not such in reality. "I proceeded to think thus - _a posteriori_. The murderers did escape from one of these windows. This being so, theycould not have refastened the sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened; - the consideration which put a stop,through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes _were_ fastened. They _must_, then,have the power of fastening themselves. There was no escape from this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement,withdrew the nail with some difficulty and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. Aconcealed spring must, I now know, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convinced me that my premises at least, werecorrect, however mysterious still appeared the circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light thehidden spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, forbore to upraise the sash. "I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. A person passing out through this window might have reclosed it,and the spring would have caught - but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion was plain, and againnarrowed in the field of my investigations. The assassins _must_ have escaped through the other window. Supposing, then,the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there _must_ be found a difference between the nails, or atleast between the modes of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I looked over the head-board minutely atthe second casement. Passing my hand down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring, which was, as Ihad supposed, identical in character with its neighbor. I now looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparentlyfitted in the same manner - driven in nearly up to the head. "You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have misunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use asporting phrase, I had not been once 'at fault.' The scent had never for an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any link ofthe chain. I had traced the secret to its ultimate result, - and that result was _the nail._ It had, I say, in every respect, theappearance of its fellow in the other window; but this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive us it might seem to be) whencompared with the consideration that here, at this point, terminated the clew. 'There _must_ be something wrong,' I said,'about the nail.' I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of an inch of the shank, came off in my fingers. The rest ofthe shank was in the gimlet-hole where it had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for its edges were incrustedwith rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded, in the top of thebottom sash, the head portion of the nail. I now carefully replaced this head portion in the indentation whence I had taken it,and the resemblance to a perfect nail was complete - the fissure was invisible. Pressing the spring, I gently raised the sashfor a few inches; the head went up with it, remaining firm in its bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of the wholenail was again perfect. "The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through the window which looked upon the bed.Dropping of its own accord upon his exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fastened by the spring; and it was theretention of this spring which had been mistaken by the police for that of the nail, - farther inquiry being thus consideredunnecessary. "The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I had been satisfied in my walk with you around thebuilding. About five feet and a half from the casement in question there runs a lightning-rod. From this rod it would havebeen impossible for any one to reach the window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that the shuttersof the fourth story were of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters _ferrades_ - a kind rarely employed at thepresent day, but frequently seen upon very old mansions at Lyons and Bourdeaux. They are in the form of an ordinary door,(a single, not a folding door) except that the lower half is latticed or worked in open trellis - thus affording an excellent holdfor the hands. In the present instance these shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the rearof the house, they were both about half open - that is to say, they stood off at right angles from the wall. It is probable thatthe police, as well as myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, if so, in looking at these _ferrades_ in the line of theirbreadth (as they must have done), they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it into dueconsideration. In fact, having once satisfied themselves that no egress could have been made in this quarter, they wouldnaturally bestow here a very cursory examination. It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the window atthe head of the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet of the lightning-rod. It was also evidentthat, by exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an entrance into the window, from the rod, might havebeen thus effected. - By reaching to the distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent)a robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold upon the rod, placing his feetsecurely against the wall, and springing boldly from it, he might have swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imaginethe window open at the time, might even have swung himself into the room. "I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a _very_ unusual degree of activity as requisite to success inso hazardous and so difficult a feat. It is my design to show you, first, that the thing might possibly have been accomplished:- but, secondly and _chiefly_, I wish to impress upon your understanding the _very extraordinary_ - the almost preternaturalcharacter of that agility which could have accomplished it. "You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that 'to make out my case,' I should rather undervalue, than insistupon a full estimation of the activity required in this matter. This may be the practice in law, but it is not the usage ofreason. My ultimate object is only the truth. My immediate purpose is to lead you to place in juxta-position, that _veryunusual_ activity of which I have just spoken with that _very peculiar_ shrill (or harsh) and _unequal_ voice, about whosenationality no two persons could be found to agree, and in whose utterance no syllabification could be detected." At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaning of Dupin flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon theverge of comprehension without power to comprehend - men, at times, find themselves upon the brink of remembrance

without being able, in the end, to remember. My friend went on with his discourse. "You will see," he said, "that I have shifted the question from the mode of egress to that of ingress. It was my design toconvey the idea that both were effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us now revert to the interior of the room.Let us survey the appearances here. The drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles of apparelstill remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess - a very silly one - and no more. How are we toknow that the articles found in the drawers were not all these drawers had originally contained? Madame L'Espanaye andher daughter lived an exceedingly retired life - saw no company - seldom went out - had little use for numerous changes ofhabiliment. Those found were at least of as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had takenany, why did he not take the best - why did he not take all? In a word, why did he abandon four thousand francs in gold toencumber himself with a bundle of linen? The gold _was _abandoned. Nearly the whole sum mentioned by MonsieurMignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from your thoughts theblundering idea of _motive_, engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence which speaks of moneydelivered at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murdercommitted within three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our lives, without attracting evenmomentary notice. Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the way of that class of thinkers who have beeneducated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities - that theory to which the most glorious objects of human researchare indebted for the most glorious of illustration. In the present instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of its deliverythree days before would have formed something more than a coincidence. It would have been corroborative of this idea ofmotive. But, under the real circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this outrage, we must alsoimagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have abandoned his gold and his motive together. "Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your attention - that peculiar voice, that unusual agility,and that startling absence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this - let us glance at the butchery itself. Here is awoman strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinary assassins employ nosuch modes of murder as this. Least of all, do they thus dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpse upthe chimney, you will admit that there was something _excessively outre_ - something altogether irreconcilable with ourcommon notions of human action, even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men. Think, too, how great musthave been that strength which could have thrust the body _up_ such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigor of severalpersons was found barely sufficient to drag it _down!_ "Turn, now, to other indications of the employment of a vigor most marvellous. On the hearth were thick tresses - verythick tresses - of grey human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are aware of the great force necessary intearing thus from the head even twenty or thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as myself. Their roots(a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments of the flesh of the scalp - sure token of the prodigious power which had beenexerted in uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the headabsolutely severed from the body: the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the _brutal_ ferocity of thesedeeds. Of the bruises upon the body of Madame L'Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutorMonsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so far these gentlemen are verycorrect. The obtuse instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the yard, upon which the victim had fallen from thewindow which looked in upon the bed. This idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same reasonthat the breadth of the shutters escaped them - because, by the affair of the nails, their perceptions had been hermeticallysealed against the possibility of the windows having ever been opened at all.

"If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflected upon the odd disorder of the chamber, we have goneso far as to combine the ideas of an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocity brutal, a butchery without motive,a _grotesquerie_ in horror absolutely alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of men of many nations,and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabification. What result, then, has ensued? What impression have I made uponyour fancy?" I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. "A madman," I said, "has done this deed - some ravingmaniac, escaped from a neighboring _Maison de Sante._" "In some respects," he replied, "your idea is not irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms,are never found to tally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of some nation, and their language,however incoherent in its words, has always the coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is not such as Inow hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutched fingers of Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me whatyou can make of it." "Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved; "this hair is most unusual - this is no _human_ hair." "I have not asserted that it is," said he; "but, before we decide this point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I havehere traced upon this paper. It is a _fac-simile_ drawing of what has been described in one portion of the testimony as 'darkbruises, and deep indentations of finger nails,' upon the throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and in another, (by Messrs.Dumas and Etienne,) as a 'series of livid spots, evidently the impression of fingers.' "You will perceive," continued my friend, spreading out the paper upon the table before us, "that this drawing gives theidea of a firm and fixed hold. There is no _slipping_ apparent. Each finger has retained - possibly until the death of thevictim - the fearful grasp by which it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at the same time, inthe respective impressions as you see them." I made the attempt in vain. "We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial," he said. "The paper is spread out upon a plane surface; but thehuman throat is cylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is about that of the throat. Wrap thedrawing around it, and try the experiment again." I did so; but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. "This," I said, "is the mark of no human hand." "Read now," replied Dupin, "this passage from Cuvier." It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of the large fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East IndianIslands. The gigantic stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of thesemammalia are sufficiently well known to all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once. "The description of the digits," said I, as I made an end of reading, "is in exact accordance with this drawing. I see thatno animal but an Ourang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed the indentations as you have tracedthem. This tuft of tawny hair, too, is identical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot possiblycomprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were _two_ voices heard in contention, and one of themwas unquestionably the voice of a Frenchman." "True; and you will remember an expression attributed almost unanimously, by the evidence, to this voice, - the

expression, '_mon Dieu!_' This, under the circumstances, has been justly characterized by one of the witnesses (Montani,the confectioner,) as an expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I have mainly builtmy hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchman was cognizant of the murder. It is possible - indeed it is far more thanprobable - that he was innocent of all participation in the bloody transactions which took place. The Ourang-Outang mayhave escaped from him. He may have traced it to the chamber; but, under the agitating circumstances which ensued, hecould never have re-captured it. It is still at large. I will not pursue these guesses - for I have no right to call them more -since the shades of reflection upon which they are based are scarcely of sufficient depth to be appreciable by my ownintellect, and since I could not pretend to make them intelligible to the understanding of another. We will call them guessesthen, and speak of them as such. If the Frenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, thisadvertisement which I left last night, upon our return home, at the office of 'Le Monde,' (a paper devoted to the shippinginterest, and much sought by sailors,) will bring him to our residence." He handed me a paper, and I read thus: CAUGHT - _In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the - inst.,_ (the morning of the murder,) _a very large,tawny Ourang-Outang of the Bornese species. The owner, (who is ascertained to be a sailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel,)may have the animal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily, and paying a few charges arising from its capture and keeping.Call at No. ---- , Rue ----, Faubourg St. Germain - au troisieme._ "How was it possible," I asked, "that you should know the man to be a sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?" "I do _not_ know it," said Dupin. "I am not _sure_ of it. Here, however, is a small piece of ribbon, which from its form,and from its greasy appearance, has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of those long _queues_ of which sailors areso fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few besides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the ribbon upat the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in myinduction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm insaying what I did in the advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I have been misled by somecircumstance into which he will not take the trouble to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant althoughinnocent of the murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to the advertisement - about demanding theOurang-Outang. He will reason thus: - 'I am innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value - to one in mycircumstances a fortune of itself - why should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. Itwas found in the Bois de Boulogne - at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that abrute beast should have done the deed? The police are at fault - they have failed to procure the slightest clew. Should theyeven trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account ofthat cognizance. Above all, _I am known._ The advertiser designates me as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure to whatlimit his knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known that I possess, I willrender the animal at least, liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attract attention either to myself or to the beast. I willanswer the advertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until this matter has blown over.' " At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs. "Be ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at a signal from myself." The front door of the house had been left open, and the visiter had entered, without ringing, and advanced several stepsupon the staircase. Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly tothe door, when we again heard him coming up. He did not turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision, andrapped at the door of our chamber. "Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone. A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, - a tall, stout, and muscular-looking person, with a certain dare-devilexpression of countenance, not altogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden bywhisker and _mustachio._ He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowedawkwardly, and bade us "good evening," in French accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficientlyindicative of a Parisian origin. "Sit down, my freind," said Dupin. "I suppose you have called about the Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost envyyou the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose him to be?" The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of some intolerable burden, and then replied, in an assuredtone: "I have no way of telling - but he can't be more than four or five years old. Have you got him here?" "Oh no, we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a livery stable in the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can gethim in the morning. Of course you are prepared to identify the property?" "To be sure I am, sir." "I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin. "I don't mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," saidthe man. "Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding of the animal - that is to say, any thing inreason." "Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair, to be sure. Let me think! - what should I have? Oh! I will tell you. Myreward shall be this. You shall give me all the information in your power about these murders in the Rue Morgue." Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked itand put the key in his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, without the least flurry, upon the table. The sailor's face flushed up as if he were struggling with suffocation. He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel, butthe next moment he fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of death itself. He spoke not aword. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.

"My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "you are alarming yourself unnecessarily - you are indeed. We mean you noharm whatever. I pledge you the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no injury. I perfectly wellknow that you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in somemeasure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must know that I have had means of information about thismatter - means of which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you couldhave avoided - nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might haverobbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for concealment. On the other hand, you are boundby every principle of honor to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with that crime of whichyou can point out the perpetrator." The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while Dupin uttered these words; but his originalboldness of bearing was all gone. "So help me God," said he, after a brief pause, "I will tell you all I know about this affair; - but I do not expect you tobelieve one half I say - I would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will make a clean breast if I die for it." What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. A party, of which heformed one, landed at Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a companion hadcaptured the Ourang- Outang. This companion dying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After great trouble,occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during the home voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely athis own residence in Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the unpleasant curiosity of his neighbors, he kept itcarefully secluded, until such time as it should recover from a wound in the foot, received from a splinter on board ship. Hisultimate design was to sell it. Returning home from some sailors' frolic the night, or rather in the morning of the murder, he found the beast occupyinghis own bed-room, into which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, as was thought, securely confined.Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving, in which it hadno doubt previously watched its master through the key-hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon inthe possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. Hehad been accustomed, however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a whip, and to this he nowresorted. Upon sight of it, the Ourang-Outang sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence,through a window, unfortunately open, into the street. The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand, occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at itspursuer, until the latter had nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In this manner the chase continued for a longtime. The streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alley in the rearof the Rue Morgue, the fugitive's attention was arrested by a light gleaming from the open window of MadameL'Espanaye's chamber, in the fourth story of her house. Rushing to the building, it perceived the lightning rod, clambered upwith inconceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall, and, by its means, swung itselfdirectly upon the headboard of the bed. The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again by theOurang-Outang as it entered the room. The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes of now recapturing the brute, as itcould scarcely escape from the trap into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where it might be intercepted as it camedown. On the other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latter reflection urgedthe man still to follow the fugitive. A lightning rod is ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when he hadarrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was stopped; the most that he could accomplish was toreach over so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearly fell from his hold through excess ofhorror. Now it was that those hideous shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled from slumber the inmates of the RueMorgue. Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter, habited in their night clothes, had apparently been occupied in arrangingsome papers in the iron chest already mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle of the room. It was open, and itscontents lay beside it on the floor. The victims must have been sitting with their backs toward the window; and, from thetime elapsing between the ingress of the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it was not immediately perceived.The flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been attributed to the wind.

"With one determined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into phrenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire fromits eyes,"

As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame L'Espanaye by the hair, (which was loose, as she had beencombing it,) and was flourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of the motions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrateand motionless; she had swooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady (during which the hair was torn from her head)had the effect of changing the probably pacific purposes of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With one determinedsweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into phrenzy.Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl, and imbedded its fearful talons in herthroat, retaining its grasp until she expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the head of the bed,over which the face of its master, rigid with horror, was just discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore still inmind the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious of having deserved punishment, it seemed desirous ofconcealing its bloody deeds, and skipped about the chamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwing down and breakingthe furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first the corpse of the daughter,and thrust it up the chimney, as it was found; then that of the old lady, which it immediately hurled through the windowheadlong. As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to the rod, and, rather glidingthan clambering down it, hurried at once home - dreading the consequences of the butchery, and gladly abandoning, in histerror, all solicitude about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase were theFrenchman's exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with the fiendish jabberings of the brute. I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escaped from the chamber, by the rod, just before thebreak of the door. It must have closed the window as it passed through it. It was subsequently caught by the owner himself,who obtained for it a very large sum at the _Jardin des Plantes._ Le Don was instantly released, upon our narration of thecircumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefect of Police. This functionary, however welldisposed to my friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulgein a sarcasm or two, about the propriety of every person minding his own business. "Let him talk," said Dupin,, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience, Iam satisfied with having defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failed in the solution of this mystery, is by nomeans that matter for wonder which he supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhat too cunning to beprofound. In his wisdom is no _stamen._ It is all head and no body, like the pictures of the Goddess Laverna, -- or, at best,all head and shoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature after all. I like him especially for one master stroke of cant,by which he has attained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has '_de nier ce qui est, et d'expliquer ce qui n'estpas._' "

"Tales of Mystery and Imagination"<

Metzengerstein

Edger Allen Poe

Illustrated by Harry Clark

"--an attachment which seemed to attain new strength"

Metzengerstein

Pestis eram vivus - moriens tua mors ero. Martin Luther

HORROR and fatality have been stalking abroad in all ages. Why then give a date to this story I have to tell? Let it sufficeto say, that at the period of which I speak, there existed, in the interior of Hungary, a settled although hidden belief in thedoctrines of the Metempsychosis. Of the doctrines themselves - that is, of their falsity, or of their probability - I say nothing.I assert, however, that much of our incredulity - as La Bruyere says of all our unhappiness - "_vient de ne pouvoir etreseuls_." But there are some points in the Hungarian superstition which were fast verging to absurdity. They - the Hungarians -differed very essentially from their Eastern authorities. For example, "_The soul_," said the former - I give the words of anacute and intelligent Parisian - "_ne demeure qu'un seul fois dans un corps sensible: au reste - un cheval, un chien, unhomme meme, n'est que la ressemblance peu tangible de ces animaux._" The families of Berlifitzing and Metzengerstein had been at variance for centuries. Never before were two houses soillustrious, mutually embittered by hostility so deadly. The origin of this enmity seems to be found in the words of an ancientprophecy - "A lofty name shall have a fearful fall when, as the rider over his horse, the mortality of Metzengerstein shalltriumph over the immortality of Berlifitzing." To be sure the words themselves had little or no meaning. But more trivial causes have given rise - and that no long whileago - to consequences equally eventful. Besides, the estates, which were contiguous, had long exercised a rival influence inthe affairs of a busy government. Moreover, near neighbors are seldom friends; and the inhabitants of the Castle Berlifitzingmight look, from their lofty buttresses, into the very windows of the palace Metzengerstein. Least of all had the more thanfeudal magnificence, thus discovered, a tendency to allay the irritable feelings of the less ancient and less wealthy

Berlifitzings. What wonder then, that the words, however silly, of that prediction, should have succeeded in setting andkeeping at variance two families already predisposed to quarrel by every instigation of hereditary jealousy? The prophecyseemed to imply - if it implied anything - a final triumph on the part of the already more powerful house; and was of courseremembered with the more bitter animosity by the weaker and less influential. Wilhelm, Count Berlifitzing, although loftily descended, was, at the epoch of this narrative, an infirm and doting old man,remarkable for nothing but an inordinate and inveterate personal antipathy to the family of his rival, and so passionate alove of horses, and of hunting, that neither bodily infirmity, great age, nor mental incapacity, prevented his dailyparticipation in the dangers of the chase. Frederick, Baron Metzengerstein, was, on the other hand, not yet Mary, followed him quickly after. Frederick was, atthat time, in his fifteenth year. In a city, fifteen years are no long period - a child may be still a child in his third lustrum: butin a wilderness - in so magnificent a wilderness as that old principality, fifteen years have a far deeper meaning. From some peculiar circumstances attending the administration of his father, the young Baron, at the decease of theformer, entered immediately upon his vast possessions. Such estates were seldom held before by a nobleman of Hungary.His castles were without number. The chief in point of splendor and extent was the "Chateau Metzengerstein." Theboundary line of his dominions was never clearly defined; but his principal park embraced a circuit of fifty miles. Upon the succession of a proprietor so young, with a character so well known, to a fortune so unparalleled, littlespeculation was afloat in regard to his probable course of conduct. And, indeed, for the space of three days, the behavior ofthe heir out-heroded Herod, and fairly surpassed the expectations of his most enthusiastic admirers. Shameful debaucheries- flagrant treacheries - unheard-of atrocities - gave his trembling vassals quickly to understand that no servile submission ontheir part - no punctilios of conscience on his own - were thenceforward to prove any security against the remorseless fangsof a petty Caligula. On the night of the fourth day, the stables of the castle Berlifitzing were discovered to be on fire; and theunanimous opinion of the neighborhood added the crime of the incendiary to the already hideous list of the Baron'smisdemeanors and enormities. But during the tumult occasioned by this occurrence, the young nobleman himself sat apparently buried in meditation, in avast and desolate upper apartment of the family palace of Metzengerstein. The rich although faded tapestry hangings whichswung gloomily upon the walls, represented the shadowy and majestic forms of a thousand illustrious ancestors. _Here_,rich-ermined priests, and pontifical dignitaries, familiarly seated with the autocrat and the sovereign, put a veto on thewishes of a temporal king, or restrained with the fiat of papal supremacy the rebellious sceptre of the Arch-enemy. _There_,the dark, tall statures of the Princes Metzengerstein - their muscular war-coursers plunging over the carcasses of fallen foes- startled the steadiest nerves with their vigorous expression; and _here_, again, the voluptuous and swan-like figures of thedames of days gone by, floated away in the mazes of an unreal dance to the strains of imaginary melody. But as the Baron listened, or affected to listen, to the gradually increasing uproar in the stables of Berlifitzing - orperhaps pondered upon some more novel, some more decided act of audacity - his eyes became unwittingly rivetted to thefigure of an enormous, and unnaturally colored horse, represented in the tapestry as belonging to a Saracen ancestor of thefamily of his rival. The horse itself, in the foreground of the design, stood motionless and statue-like - while farther back, itsdiscomfited rider perished by the dagger of a Metzengerstein. On Frederick's lip arose a fiendish expression, as he became aware of the direction which his glance had, without hisconsciousness, assumed. Yet he did not remove it. On the contrary, he could by no means account for the overwhelminganxiety which appeared falling like a pall upon his senses. It was with difficulty that he reconciled his dreamy andincoherent feelings with the certainty of being awake. The longer he gazed the more absorbing became the spell - the moreimpossible did it appear that he could ever withdraw his glance from the fascination of that tapestry. But the tumult withoutbecoming suddenly more violent, with a compulsory exertion he diverted his attention to the glare of ruddy light thrown fullby the flaming stables upon the windows of the apartment. The action, however, was but momentary, his gaze returned mechanically to the wall. To his extreme horror andastonishment, the head of the gigantic steed had, in the meantime, altered its position. The neck of the animal, beforearched, as if in compassion, over the prostrate body of its lord, was now extended, at full length, in the direction of theBaron. The eyes, before invisible, now wore an energetic and human expression, while they gleamed with a fiery andunusual red; and the distended lips of the apparently enraged horse left in full view his gigantic and disgusting teeth. Stupified with terror, the young nobleman tottered to the door. As he threw it open, a flash of red light, streaming far intothe chamber, flung his shadow with a clear outline against the quivering tapestry, and he shuddered to perceive that shadow- as he staggered awhile upon the threshold - assuming the exact position, and precisely filling up the contour, of therelentless and triumphant murderer of the Saracen Berlifitzing. To lighten the depression of his spirits, the Baron hurried into the open air. At the principal gate of the palace heencountered three equerries. With much difficulty, and at the imminent peril of their lives, they were restraining theconvulsive plunges of a gigantic and fiery-colored horse. "Whose horse? Where did you get him?" demanded the youth, in a querulous and husky tone of voice, as he becameinstantly aware that the mysterious steed in the tapestried chamber was the very counterpart of the furious animal beforehis eyes. "He is your own property, sire," replied one of the equerries, "at least he is claimed by no other owner. We caught himflying, all smoking and foaming with rage, from the burning stables of the Castle Berlifitzing. Supposing him to havebelonged to the old Count's stud of foreign horses, we led him back as an estray. But the grooms there disclaim any title tothe creature; which is strange, since he bears evident marks of having made a narrow escape from the flames. "The letters W. V. B. are also branded very distinctly on his forehead," interrupted a second equerry, "I supposed them,of course, to be the initials of Wilhelm Von Berlifitzing - but all at the castle are positive in denying any knowledge of the

horse." "Extremely singular!" said the young Baron, with a musing air, and apparently unconscious of the meaning of his words."He is, as you say, a remarkable horse - a prodigious horse! although, as you very justly observe, of a suspicious anduntractable character, let him be mine, however," he added, after a pause, "perhaps a rider like Frederick ofMetzengerstein, may tame even the devil from the stables of Berlifitzing." "You are mistaken, my lord; the horse, as I think we mentioned, is _not_ from the stables of the Count. If such had beenthe case, we know our duty better than to bring him into the presence of a noble of your family." "True!" observed the Baron, dryly, and at that instant a page of the bedchamber came from the palace with a heightenedcolor, and a precipitate step. He whispered into his master's ear an account of the sudden disappearance of a small portionof the tapestry, in an apartment which he designated; entering, at the same time, into particulars of a minute andcircumstantial character; but from the low tone of voice in which these latter were communicated, nothing escaped togratify the excited curiosity of the equerries. The young Frederick, during the conference, seemed agitated by a variety of emotions. He soon, however, recovered hiscomposure, and an expression of determined malignancy settled upon his countenance, as he gave peremptory orders that acertain chamber should be immediately locked up, and the key placed in his own possession. "Have you heard of the unhappy death of the old hunter Berlifitzing?" said one of his vassals to the Baron, as, after thedeparture of the page, the huge steed which that nobleman had adopted as his own, plunged and curvetted, with redoubledfury, down the long avenue which extended from the chateau to the stables of Metzengerstein. "No!" said the Baron, turning abruptly toward the speaker, "dead! say you?" "It is indeed true, my lord; and, to a noble of your name, will be, I imagine, no unwelcome intelligence." A rapid smile shot over the countenance of the listener. "How died he?" "In his rash exertions to rescue a favorite portion of his hunting stud, he has himself perished miserably in the flames." "I-n-d-e-e-d-!" ejaculated the Baron, as if slowly and deliberately impressed with the truth of some exciting idea. "Indeed;" repeated the vassal. "Shocking!" said the youth, calmly, and turned quietly into the chateau. From this date a marked alteration took place in the outward demeanor of the dissolute young Baron Frederick VonMetzengerstein. Indeed, his behavior disappointed every expectation, and proved little in accordance with the views of manya manoeuvering mamma; while his habits and manner, still less than formerly, offered any thing congenial with those of theneighboring aristocracy. He was never to be seen beyond the limits of his own domain, and, in this wide and social world,was utterly companionless - unless, indeed, that unnatural, impetuous, and fiery-colored horse, which he henceforwardcontinually bestrode, had any mysterious right to the title of his friend. Numerous invitations on the part of the neighborhood for a long time, however, periodically came in. "Will the Baronhonor our festivals with his presence?" "Will the Baron join us in a hunting of the boar?" - "Metzengerstein does nothunt;" "Metzengerstein will not attend," were the haughty and laconic answers. These repeated insults were not to be endured by an imperious nobility. Such invitations became less cordial - lessfrequent - in time they ceased altogether. The widow of the unfortunate Count Berlifitzing was even heard to express a hope"that the Baron might be at home when he did not wish to be at home, since he disdained the company of his equals; andride when he did not wish to ride, since he preferred the society of a horse." This to be sure was a very silly explosion ofhereditary pique; and merely proved how singularly unmeaning our sayings are apt to become, when we desire to beunusually energetic. The charitable, nevertheless, attributed the alteration in the conduct of the young nobleman to the natural sorrow of a sonfor the untimely loss of his parents - forgetting, however, his atrocious and reckless behavior during the short periodimmediately succeeding that bereavement. Some there were, indeed, who suggested a too haughty idea of self-consequenceand dignity. Others again (among them may be mentioned the family physician) did not hesitate in speaking of morbidmelancholy, and hereditary ill-health; while dark hints, of a more equivocal nature, were current among the multitude. Indeed, the Baron's perverse attachment to his lately-acquired charger - an attachment which seemed to attain newstrength from every fresh example of the animal's ferocious and demon-like propensities - at length became, in the eyes ofall reasonable men, a hideous and unnatural fervor. In the glare of noon - at the dead hour of night - in sickness or in health- in calm or in tempest - the young Metzengerstein seemed rivetted to the saddle of that colossal horse, whose intractableaudacities so well accorded with his own spirit. There were circumstances, moreover, which coupled with late events, gave an unearthly and portentous character to themania of the rider, and to the capabilities of the steed. The space passed over in a single leap had been accuratelymeasured, and was found to exceed, by an astounding difference, the wildest expectations of the most imaginative. TheBaron, besides, had no particular _name_ for the animal, although all the rest in his collection were distinguished bycharacteristic appellations. His stable, too, was appointed at a distance from the rest; and with regard to grooming andother necessary offices, none but the owner in person had ventured to officiate, or even to enter the enclosure of thatparticular stall. It was also to be observed, that although the three grooms, who had caught the steed as he fled from theconflagration at Berlifitzing, had succeeded in arresting his course, by means of a chain-bridle and noose - yet no one of thethree could with any certainty affirm that he had, during that dangerous struggle, or at any period thereafter, actuallyplaced his hand upon the body of the beast. Instances of peculiar intelligence in the demeanor of a noble and high-spiritedhorse are not to be supposed capable of exciting unreasonable attention - especially among men who, daily trained to thelabors of the chase, might appear well acquainted with the sagacity of a horse - but there were certain circumstances whichintruded themselves per force upon the most skeptical and phlegmatic; and it is said there were times when the animalcaused the gaping crowd who stood around to recoil in horror from the deep and impressive meaning of his terrible stamp -

times when the young Metzengerstein turned pale and shrunk away from the rapid and searching expression of his earnestand human-looking eye.

"in calm or in tempest - the young Metzengerstein seemed rivetted to the saddle of that colossal horse, whose intractable audacities so well accorded with his own spirit."

Among all the retinue of the Baron, however, none were found to doubt the ardor of that extraordinary affection whichexisted on the part of the young nobleman for the fiery qualities of his horse; at least, none but an insignificant andmisshapen little page, whose deformities were in everybody's way, and whose opinions were of the least possibleimportance. He - if his ideas are worth mentioning at all - had the effrontery to assert that his master never vaulted into thesaddle without an unaccountable and almost imperceptible shudder, and that, upon his return from every long-continuedand habitual ride, an expression of triumphant malignity distorted every muscle in his countenance. One tempestuous night, Metzengerstein, awaking from a heavy slumber, descended like a maniac from his chamber, and,mounting in hot haste, bounded away into the mazes of the forest. An occurrence so common attracted no particularattention, but his return was looked for with intense anxiety on the part of his domestics, when, after some hours' absence,the stupendous and magnificent battlements of the Chateau Metzengerstein, were discovered crackling and rocking to theirvery foundation, under the influence of a dense and livid mass of ungovernable fire. As the flames, when first seen, had already made so terrible a progress that all efforts to save any portion of the buildingwere evidently futile, the astonished neighborhood stood idly around in silent and pathetic wonder. But a new and fearfulobject soon rivetted the attention of the multitude, and proved how much more intense is the excitement wrought in thefeelings of a crowd by the contemplation of human agony, than that brought about by the most appalling spectacles ofinanimate matter. Up the long avenue of aged oaks which led from the forest to the main entrance of the Chateau Metzengerstein, a steed,bearing an unbonneted and disordered rider, was seen leaping with an impetuosity which outstripped the very Demon of theTempest. The career of the horseman was indisputably, on his own part, uncontrollable. The agony of his countenance, theconvulsive struggle of his frame, gave evidence of superhuman exertion: but no sound, save a solitary shriek, escaped fromhis lacerated lips, which were bitten through and through in the intensity of terror. One instant, and the clattering of hoofsresounded sharply and shrilly above the roaring of the flames and the shrieking of the winds - another, and, clearing at asingle plunge the gate-way and the moat, the steed bounded far up the tottering staircases of the palace, and, with its rider,disappeared amid the whirlwind of chaotic fire. The fury of the tempest immediately died away, and a dead calm sullenly succeeded. A white flame still enveloped thebuilding like a shroud, and, streaming far away into the quiet atmosphere, shot forth a glare of preternatural light; while acloud of smoke settled heavily over the battlements in the distinct colossal figure of - _a horse_.

"Tales of Mystery and Imagination"

Ligeia

Edger Allen Poe

Illustrated by Harry Clark

"And now slowly opened the eyes of the figurewhich stood before me"

Ligeia

And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For God is but a great will pervading all things bynature of its intentness. Man doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will.

Joseph Glanvill

I Cannot, for my soul, remember how, when, or even precisely where, I first became acquainted with the lady Ligeia. Longyears have since elapsed, and my memory is feeble through much suffering. Or, perhaps, I cannot now bring these points tomind, because, in truth, the character of my beloved, her rare learning, her singular yet placid cast of beauty, and thethrilling and enthralling eloquence of her low musical language, made their way into my heart by paces so steadily andstealthily progressive that they have been unnoticed and unknown. Yet I believe that I met her first and most frequently insome large, old, decaying city near the Rhine. Of her family -- I have surely heard her speak. That it is of a remotely ancientdate cannot be doubted. Ligeia! Ligeia! in studies of a nature more than all else adapted to deaden impressions of theoutward world, it is by that sweet word alone -- by Ligeia -- that I bring before mine eyes in fancy the image of her who is nomore. And now, while I write, a recollection flashes upon me that I have never known the paternal name of her who was myfriend and my betrothed, and who became the partner of my studies, and finally the wife of my bosom. Was it a playfulcharge on the part of my Ligeia? or was it a test of my strength of affection, that I should institute no inquiries upon thispoint? or was it rather a caprice of my own -- a wildly romantic offering on the shrine of the most passionate devotion? I butindistinctly recall the fact itself -- what wonder that I have utterly forgotten the circumstances which originated or attendedit? And, indeed, if ever she, the wan and the misty-winged Ashtophet of idolatrous Egypt, presided, as they tell, over

marriages ill-omened, then most surely she presided over mine. There is one dear topic, however, on which my memory falls me not. It is the person of Ligeia. In stature she was tall,somewhat slender, and, in her latter days, even emaciated. I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease, ofher demeanor, or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow. I wasnever made aware of her entrance into my closed study save by the dear music of her low sweet voice, as she placed hermarble hand upon my shoulder. In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream -- anairy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered vision about the slumbering souls of thedaughters of Delos. Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in theclassical labors of the heathen. "There is no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the formsand genera of beauty, without some strangeness in the proportion." Yet, although I saw that the features of Ligeia were notof a classic regularity -- although I perceived that her loveliness was indeed "exquisite," and felt that there was much of"strangeness" pervading it, yet I have tried in vain to detect the irregularity and to trace home my own perception of "thestrange." I examined the contour of the lofty and pale forehead -- it was faultless -- how cold indeed that word when appliedto a majesty so divine! -- the skin rivalling the purest ivory, the commanding extent and repose, the gentle prominence of theregions above the temples; and then the raven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth thefull force of the Homeric epithet, "hyacinthine!" I looked at the delicate outlines of the nose -- and nowhere but in thegraceful medallions of the Hebrews had I beheld a similar perfection. There were the same luxurious smoothness of surface,the same scarcely perceptible tendency to the aquiline, the same harmoniously curved nostrils speaking the free spirit. Iregarded the sweet mouth. Here was indeed the triumph of all things heavenly -- the magnificent turn of the short upper lip -- the soft, voluptuous slumber of the under -- the dimples which sported, and the color which spoke -- the teeth glancingback, with a brilliancy almost startling, every ray of the holy light which fell upon them in her serene and placid, yet mostexultingly radiant of all smiles. I scrutinized the formation of the chin -- and here, too, I found the gentleness of breadth, thesoftness and the majesty, the fullness and the spirituality, of the Greek -- the contour which the god Apollo revealed but in adream, to Cleomenes, the son of the Athenian. And then I peered into the large eves of Ligeia.

" I would in vain attempt to portray the majesty, the quiet ease, of her demeanor, or the incomprehensible lightness and elasticity of her footfall. She came and departed as a shadow."

For eyes we have no models in the remotely antique. It might have been, too, that in these eves of my beloved lay the secretto which Lord Verulam alludes. They were, I must believe, far larger than the ordinary eyes of our own race. They wereeven fuller than the fullest of the gazelle eyes of the tribe of the valley of Nourjahad. Yet it was only at intervals -- inmoments of intense excitement -- that this peculiarity became more than slightly noticeable in Ligeia. And at such momentswas her beauty -- in my heated fancy thus it appeared perhaps -- the beauty of beings either above or apart from the earth --the beauty of the fabulous Houri of the Turk. The hue of the orbs was the most brilliant of black, and, far over them, hungjetty lashes of great length. The brows, slightly irregular in outline, had the same tint. The "strangeness," however, which Ifound in the eyes, was of a nature distinct from the formation, or the color, or the brilliancy of the features, and must, after

all, be referred to the expression. Ah, word of no meaning! behind whose vast latitude of mere sound we intrench ourignorance of so much of the spiritual. The expression of the eyes of Ligeia! How for long hours have I pondered upon it!How have I, through the whole of a midsummer night, struggled to fathom it! What was it -- that something more profoundthan the well of Democritus -- which lay far within the pupils of my beloved? What was it? I was possessed with a passion todiscover. Those eyes! those large, those shining, those divine orbs! they became to me twin stars of Leda, and I to themdevoutest of astrologers. There is no point, among the many incomprehensible anomalies of the science of mind, more thrillingly exciting than thefact -- never, I believe, noticed in the schools -- that, in our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, weoften find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember. And thus howfrequently, in my intense scrutiny of Ligeia's eyes, have I felt approaching the full knowledge of their expression -- felt itapproaching -- yet not quite be mine -- and so at length entirely depart! And (strange, oh strangest mystery of all!) I found, inthe commonest objects of the universe, a circle of analogies to theat expression. I mean to say that, subsequently to theperiod when Ligeia's beauty passed into my spirit, there dwelling as in a shrine, I derived, from many existences in thematerial world, a sentiment such as I felt always aroused within me by her large and luminous orbs. Yet not the more couldI define that sentiment, or analyze, or even steadily view it. I recognized it, let me repeat, sometimes in the survey of arapidly-growing vine -- in the contemplation of a moth, a butterfly, a chrysalis, a stream of running water. I have felt it in theocean; in the falling of a meteor. I have felt it in the glances of unusually aged people. And there are one or two stars inheaven -- (one especially, a star of the sixth magnitude, double and changeable, to be found near the large star in Lyra) in atelescopic scrutiny of which I have been made aware of the feeling. I have been filled with it by certain sounds from stringedinstruments, and not unfrequently by passages from books. Among innumerable other instances, I well remember somethingin a volume of Joseph Glanvill, which (perhaps merely from its quaintness -- who shall say?) never failed to inspire me withthe sentiment; -- "And the will therein lieth, which dieth not. Who knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? For Godis but a great will pervading all things by nature of its intentness. Man doth not yield him to the angels, nor unto deathutterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will." Length of years, and subsequent reflection, have enabled me to trace, indeed, some remote connection between thispassage in the English moralist and a portion of the character of Ligeia. An intensity in thought, action, or speech, waspossibly, in her, a result, or at least an index, of that gigantic volition which, during our long intercourse, failed to give otherand more immediate evidence of its existence. Of all the women whom I have ever known, she, the outwardly calm, the ever-placid Ligeia, was the most violently a prey to the tumultuous vultures of stern passion. And of such passion I could form noestimate, save by the miraculous expansion of those eyes which at once so delighted and appalled me -- by the almostmagical melody, modulation, distinctness and placidity of her very low voice -- and by the fierce energy (rendered doublyeffective by contrast with her manner of utterance) of the wild words which she habitually uttered. I have spoken of the learning of Ligeia: it was immense -- such as I have never known in woman. In the classical tongueswas she deeply proficient, and as far as my own acquaintance extended in regard to the modern dialects of Europe, I havenever known her at fault. Indeed upon any theme of the most admired, because simply the most abstruse of the boastederudition of the academy, have I ever found Ligeia at fault? How singularly -- how thrillingly, this one point in the nature ofmy wife has forced itself, at this late period only, upon my attention! I said her knowledge was such as I have never knownin woman -- but where breathes the man who has traversed, and successfully, all the wide areas of moral, physical, andmathematical science? I saw not then what I now clearly perceive, that the acquisitions of Ligeia were gigantic, wereastounding; yet I was sufficiently aware of her infinite supremacy to resign myself, with a child-like confidence, to herguidance through the chaotic world of metaphysical investigation at which I was most busily occupied during the earlieryears of our marriage. With how vast a triumph -- with how vivid a delight -- with how much of all that is ethereal in hope --did I feel, as she bent over me in studies but little sought -- but less known -- that delicious vista by slow degrees expandingbefore me, down whose long, gorgeous, and all untrodden path, I might at length pass onward to the goal of a wisdom toodivinely precious not to be forbidden! How poignant, then, must have been the grief with which, after some years, I beheld my well-grounded expectations takewings to themselves and fly away! Without Ligeia I was but as a child groping benighted. Her presence, her readings alone,rendered vividly luminous the many mysteries of the transcendentalism in which we were immersed. Wanting the radiantlustre of her eyes, letters, lambent and golden, grew duller than Saturnian lead. And now those eyes shone less and lessfrequently upon the pages over which I pored. Ligeia grew ill. The wild eyes blazed with a too -- too glorious effulgence; thepale fingers became of the transparent waxen hue of the grave, and the blue veins upon the lofty forehead swelled and sankimpetuously with the tides of the gentle emotion. I saw that she must die -- and I struggled desperately in spirit with the grimAzrael. And the struggles of the passionate wife were, to my astonishment, even more energetic than my own. There hadbeen much in her stern nature to impress me with the belief that, to her, death would have come without its terrors; -- butnot so. Words are impotent to convey any just idea of the fierceness of resistance with which she wrestled with the Shadow.I groaned in anguish at the pitiable spectacle. would have soothed -- I would have reasoned; but, in the intensity of her wilddesire for life, -- for life -- but for life -- solace and reason were the uttermost folly. Yet not until the last instance, amid themost convulsive writhings of her fierce spirit, was shaken the external placidity of her demeanor. Her voice grew moregentle -- grew more low -- yet I would not wish to dwell upon the wild meaning of the quietly uttered words. My brain reeledas I hearkened entranced, to a melody more than mortal -- to assumptions and aspirations which mortality had never beforeknown. That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, lovewould have reigned no ordinary passion. But in death only, was I fully impressed with the strength of her affection. For longhours, detaining my hand, would she pour out before me the overflowing of a heart whose more than passionate devotion

amounted to idolatry. How had I deserved to be so blessed by such confessions? -- how had I deserved to be so cursed withthe removal of my beloved in the hour of her making them, But upon this subject I cannot bear to dilate. Let me say only,that in Ligeia's more than womanly abandonment to a love, alas! all unmerited, all unworthily bestowed, I at lengthrecognized the principle of her longing with so wildly earnest a desire for the life which was now fleeing so rapidly away. Itis this wild longing -- it is this eager vehemence of desire for life -- but for life -- that I have no power to portray -- noutterance capable of expressing. At high noon of the night in which she departed, beckoning me, peremptorily, to her side, she bade me repeat certainverses composed by herself not many days before. I obeyed her. -- They were these:

Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years!

An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears,

Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears,

While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly;

Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro,

Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo!

That motley drama! -- oh, be sureIt shall not be forgot!

With its Phantom chased forever more, By a crowd that seize it not,

Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot,

And much of Madness and more of SinAnd Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,A crawling shape intrude!

A blood-red thing that writhes from outThe scenic solitude!

It writhes! -- it writhes! -- with mortal pangsThe mimes become its food,

And the seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued.

Out -- out are the lights -- out all!And over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall,

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

Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

"O God!" half shrieked Ligeia, leaping to her feet and extending her arms aloft with a spasmodic movement, as I madean end of these lines -- "O God! O Divine Father! -- shall these things be undeviatingly so? -- shall this Conqueror be notonce conquered? Are we not part and parcel in Thee? Who -- who knoweth the mysteries of the will with its vigor? Mandoth not yield him to the angels, nor unto death utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will." And now, as if exhausted with emotion, she suffered her white arms to fall, and returned solemnly to her bed of death.And as she breathed her last sighs, there came mingled with them a low murmur from her lips. I bent to them my ear anddistinguished, again, the concluding words of the passage in Glanvill -- "Man doth not yield him to the angels, nor untodeath utterly, save only through the weakness of his feeble will." She died; -- and I, crushed into the very dust with sorrow, could no longer endure the lonely desolation of my dwelling in

the dim and decaying city by the Rhine. I had no lack of what the world calls wealth. Ligeia had brought me far more, veryfar more than ordinarily falls to the lot of mortals. After a few months, therefore, of weary and aimless wandering, Ipurchased, and put in some repair, an abbey, which I shall not name, in one of the wildest and least frequented portions offair England. The gloomy and dreary grandeur of the building, the almost savage aspect of the domain, the manymelancholy and time-honored memories connected with both, had much in unison with the feelings of utter abandonmentwhich had driven me into that remote and unsocial region of the country. Yet although the external abbey, with its verdantdecay hanging about it, suffered but little alteration, I gave way, with a child-like perversity, and perchance with a fainthope of alleviating my sorrows, to a display of more than regal magnificence within. -- For such follies, even in childhood, Ihad imbibed a taste and now they came back to me as if in the dotage of grief. Alas, I feel how much even of incipientmadness might have been discovered in the gorgeous and fantastic draperies, in the solemn carvings of Egypt, in the wildcornices and furniture, in the Bedlam patterns of the carpets of tufted gold! I had become a bounden slave in the trammelsof opium, and my labors and my orders had taken a coloring from my dreams. But these absurdities must not pause todetail. Let me speak only of that one chamber, ever accursed, whither in a moment of mental alienation, I led from the altaras my bride -- as the successor of the unforgotten Ligeia -- the fair-haired and blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion, ofTremaine. There is no individual portion of the architecture and decoration of that bridal chamber which is not now visibly beforeme. Where were the souls of the haughty family of the bride, when, through thirst of gold, they permitted to pass thethreshold of an apartment so bedecked, a maiden and a daughter so beloved? I have said that I minutely remember thedetails of the chamber -- yet I am sadly forgetful on topics of deep moment -- and here there was no system, no keeping, inthe fantastic display, to take hold upon the memory. The room lay in a high turret of the castellated abbey, was pentagonalin shape, and of capacious size. Occupying the whole southern face of the pentagon was the sole window -- an immensesheet of unbroken glass from Venice -- a single pane, and tinted of a leaden hue, so that the rays of either the sun or moon,passing through it, fell with a ghastly lustre on the objects within. Over the upper portion of this huge window, extended thetrellice-work of an aged vine, which clambered up the massy walls of the turret. The ceiling, of gloomy-looking oak, wasexcessively lofty, vaulted, and elaborately fretted with the wildest and most grotesque specimens of a semi-Gothic, semi-Druidical device. From out the most central recess of this melancholy vaulting, depended, by a single chain of gold with longlinks, a huge censer of the same metal, Saracenic in pattern, and with many perforations so contrived that there writhed inand out of them, as if endued with a serpent vitality, a continual succession of parti-colored fires. Some few ottomans and golden candelabra, of Eastern figure, were in various stations about -- and there was the couch,too -- bridal couch -- of an Indian model, and low, and sculptured of solid ebony, with a pall-like canopy above. In each ofthe angles of the chamber stood on end a gigantic sarcophagus of black granite, from the tombs of the kings over againstLuxor, with their aged lids full of immemorial sculpture. But in the draping of the apartment lay, alas! the chief phantasy ofall. The lofty walls, gigantic in height -- even unproportionably so -- were hung from summit to foot, in vast folds, with aheavy and massive-looking tapestry -- tapestry of a material which was found alike as a carpet on the floor, as a coveringfor the ottomans and the ebony bed, as a canopy for the bed, and as the gorgeous volutes of the curtains which partiallyshaded the window. The material was the richest cloth of gold. It was spotted all over, at irregular intervals, with arabesquefigures, about a foot in diameter, and wrought upon the cloth in patterns of the most jetty black. But these figures partookof the true character of the arabesque only when regarded from a single point of view. By a contrivance now common, andindeed traceable to a very remote period of antiquity, they were made changeable in aspect. To one entering the room, theybore the appearance of simple monstrosities; but upon a farther advance, this appearance gradually departed; and step bystep, as the visitor moved his station in the chamber, he saw himself surrounded by an endless succession of the ghastlyforms which belong to the superstition of the Norman, or arise in the guilty slumbers of the monk. The phantasmagoriceffect was vastly heightened by the artificial introduction of a strong continual current of wind behind the draperies -- givinga hideous and uneasy animation to the whole. In halls such as these -- in a bridal chamber such as this -- I passed, with the Lady of Tremaine, the unhallowed hours ofthe first month of our marriage -- passed them with but little disquietude. That my wife dreaded the fierce moodiness of mytemper -- that she shunned me and loved me but little -- I could not help perceiving; but it gave me rather pleasure thanotherwise. I loathed her with a hatred belonging more to demon than to man. My memory flew back, (oh, with whatintensity of regret!) to Ligeia, the beloved, the august, the beautiful, the entombed. I revelled in recollections of her purity, ofher wisdom, of her lofty, her ethereal nature, of her passionate, her idolatrous love. Now, then, did my spirit fully and freelyburn with more than all the fires of her own. In the excitement of my opium dreams (for I was habitually fettered in theshackles of the drug) I would call aloud upon her name, during the silence of the night, or among the sheltered recesses ofthe glens by day, as if, through the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the consuming ardor of my longing for the departed,I could restore her to the pathway she had abandoned -- ah, could it be forever? -- upon the earth. About the commencement of the second month of the marriage, the Lady Rowena was attacked with sudden illness, fromwhich her recovery was slow. The fever which consumed her rendered her nights uneasy; and in her perturbed state of half-slumber, she spoke of sounds, and of motions, in and about the chamber of the turret, which I concluded had no origin savein the distemper of her fancy, or perhaps in the phantasmagoric influences of the chamber itself. She became at lengthconvalescent -- finally well. Yet but a brief period elapsed, ere a second more violent disorder again threw her upon a bed ofsuffering; and from this attack her frame, at all times feeble, never altogether recovered. Her illnesses were, after thisepoch, of alarming character, and of more alarming recurrence, defying alike the knowledge and the great exertions of herphysicians. With the increase of the chronic disease which had thus, apparently, taken too sure hold upon her constitution tobe eradicated by human means, I could not fall to observe a similar increase in the nervous irritation of her temperament,and in her excitability by trivial causes of fear. She spoke again, and now more frequently and pertinaciously, of the sounds -

- of the slight sounds -- and of the unusual motions among the tapestries, to which she had formerly alluded.

"I would call aloud upon her name"

One night, near the closing in of September, she pressed this distressing subject with more than usual emphasis upon myattention. She had just awakened from an unquiet slumber, and I had been watching, with feelings half of anxiety, half ofvague terror, the workings of her emaciated countenance. I sat by the side of her ebony bed, upon one of the ottomans ofIndia. She partly arose, and spoke, in an earnest low whisper, of sounds which she then heard, but which I could not hear --of motions which she then saw, but which I could not perceive. The wind was rushing hurriedly behind the tapestries, and Iwished to show her (what, let me confess it, I could not all believe) that those almost inarticulate breathings, and those verygentle variations of the figures upon the wall, were but the natural effects of that customary rushing of the wind. But adeadly pallor, overspreading her face, had proved to me that my exertions to reassure her would be fruitless. She appearedto be fainting, and no attendants were within call. I remembered where was deposited a decanter of light wine which hadbeen ordered by her physicians, and hastened across the chamber to procure it. But, as I stepped beneath the light of thecenser, two circumstances of a startling nature attracted my attention. I had felt that some palpable although invisibleobject had passed lightly by my person; and I saw that there lay upon the golden carpet, in the very middle of the rich lustrethrown from the censer, a shadow -- a faint, indefinite shadow of angelic aspect -- such as might be fancied for the shadowof a shade. But I was wild with the excitement of an immoderate dose of opium, and heeded these things but little, nor spokeof them to Rowena. Having found the wine, I recrossed the chamber, and poured out a gobletful, which I held to the lips ofthe fainting lady. She had now partially recovered, however, and took the vessel herself, while I sank upon an ottoman nearme, with my eyes fastened upon her person. It was then that I became distinctly aware of a gentle footfall upon the carpet,and near the couch; and in a second thereafter, as Rowena was in the act of raising the wine to her lips, I saw, or may havedreamed that I saw, fall within the goblet, as if from some invisible spring in the atmosphere of the room, three or four largedrops of a brilliant and ruby colored fluid. If this I saw -- not so Rowena. She swallowed the wine unhesitatingly, and Iforbore to speak to her of a circumstance which must, after all, I considered, have been but the suggestion of a vividimagination, rendered morbidly active by the terror of the lady, by the opium, and by the hour. Yet I cannot conceal it from my own perception that, immediately subsequent to the fall of the ruby-drops, a rapid changefor the worse took place in the disorder of my wife; so that, on the third subsequent night, the hands of her menials preparedher for the tomb, and on the fourth, I sat alone, with her shrouded body, in that fantastic chamber which had received her asmy bride. -- Wild visions, opium-engendered, flitted, shadow-like, before me. I gazed with unquiet eye upon the sarcophagiin the angles of the room, upon the varying figures of the drapery, and upon the writhing of the parti-colored fires in thecenser overhead. My eyes then fell, as I called to mind the circumstances of a former night, to the spot beneath the glare ofthe censer where I had seen the faint traces of the shadow. It was there, however, no longer; and breathing with greaterfreedom, I turned my glances to the pallid and rigid figure upon the bed. Then rushed upon me a thousand memories ofLigeia -- and then came back upon my heart, with the turbulent violence of a flood, the whole of that unutterable wo withwhich I had regarded her thus enshrouded. The night waned; and still, with a bosom full of bitter thoughts of the one onlyand supremely beloved, I remained gazing upon the body of Rowena. It might have been midnight, or perhaps earlier, or later, for I had taken no note of time, when a sob, low, gentle, but very

distinct, startled me from my revery. -- I felt that it came from the bed of ebony -- the bed of death. I listened in an agony ofsuperstitious terror -- but there was no repetition of the sound. I strained my vision to detect any motion in the corpse -- butthere was not the slightest perceptible. Yet I could not have been deceived. I had heard the noise, however faint, and my soulwas awakened within me. I resolutely and perseveringly kept my attention riveted upon the body. Many minutes elapsedbefore any circumstance occurred tending to throw light upon the mystery. At length it became evident that a slight, a veryfeeble, and barely noticeable tinge of color had flushed up within the cheeks, and along the sunken small veins of the eyelids.Through a species of unutterable horror and awe, for which the language of mortality has no sufficiently energeticexpression, I felt my heart cease to beat, my limbs grow rigid where I sat. Yet a sense of duty finally operated to restore myself-possession. I could no longer doubt that we had been precipitate in our preparations -- that Rowena still lived. It wasnecessary that some immediate exertion be made; yet turret was altogether apart from the portion of the abbey tenanted bythe servants -- there were none within call -- I had no means of summoning them to my aid without leaving the room formany minutes -- and this I could not venture to do. I therefore struggled alone in my endeavors to call back the spirit illhovering. In a short period it was certain, however, that a relapse had taken place; the color disappeared from both eyelidand cheek, leaving a wanness even more than that of marble; the lips became doubly shrivelled and pinched up in the ghastlyexpression of death; a repulsive clamminess and coldness overspread rapidly the surface of the body; and all the usualrigorous illness immediately supervened. I fell back with a shudder upon the couch from which I had been so startlinglyaroused, and again gave myself up to passionate waking visions of Ligeia. An hour thus elapsed when (could it be possible?) I was a second time aware of some vague sound issuing from the regionof the bed. I listened -- in extremity of horror. The sound came again -- it was a sigh. Rushing to the corpse, I saw --distinctly saw -- a tremor upon the lips. In a minute afterward they relaxed, disclosing a bright line of the pearly teeth.Amazement now struggled in my bosom with the profound awe which had hitherto reigned there alone. I felt that my visiongrew dim, that my reason wandered; and it was only by a violent effort that I at length succeeded in nerving myself to thetask which duty thus once more had pointed out. There was now a partial glow upon the forehead and upon the cheek andthroat; a perceptible warmth pervaded the whole frame; there was even a slight pulsation at the heart. The lady lived; andwith redoubled ardor I betook myself to the task of restoration. I chafed and bathed the temples and the hands, and usedevery exertion which experience, and no little. medical reading, could suggest. But in vain. Suddenly, the color fled, thepulsation ceased, the lips resumed the expression of the dead, and, in an instant afterward, the whole body took upon itselfthe icy chilliness, the livid hue, the intense rigidity, the sunken outline, and all the loathsome peculiarities of that which hasbeen, for many days, a tenant of the tomb. And again I sunk into visions of Ligeia -- and again, (what marvel that I shudder while I write,) again there reached myears a low sob from the region of the ebony bed. But why shall I minutely detail the unspeakable horrors of that night? Whyshall I pause to relate how, time after time, until near the period of the gray dawn, this hideous drama of revivification wasrepeated; how each terrific relapse was only into a sterner and apparently more irredeemable death; how each agony worethe aspect of a struggle with some invisible foe; and how each struggle was succeeded by I know not what of wild change inthe personal appearance of the corpse? Let me hurry to a conclusion. The greater part of the fearful night had worn away, and she who had been dead, once again stirred -- and now morevigorously than hitherto, although arousing from a dissolution more appalling in its utter hopelessness than any. I had longceased to struggle or to move, and remained sitting rigidly upon the ottoman, a helpless prey to a whirl of violent emotions,of which extreme awe was perhaps the least terrible, the least consuming. The corpse, I repeat, stirred, and now morevigorously than before. The hues of life flushed up with unwonted energy into the countenance -- the limbs relaxed -- and,save that the eyelids were yet pressed heavily together, and that the bandages and draperies of the grave still imparted theircharnel character to the figure, I might have dreamed that Rowena had indeed shaken off, utterly, the fetters of Death. Butif this idea was not, even then, altogether adopted, I could at least doubt no longer, when, arising from the bed, tottering,with feeble steps, with closed eyes, and with the manner of one bewildered in a dream, the thing that was enshroudedadvanced boldly and palpably into the middle of the apartment.

"Here then, at least," I shrieked aloud, "can I never -- can I never be mistaken -- these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes -- of my lost love -- of the lady -- of the LADYLIGEIA."

I trembled not -- I stirred not -- for a crowd of unutterable fancies connected with the air, the stature, the demeanor of thefigure, rushing hurriedly through my brain, had paralyzed -- had chilled me into stone. I stirred not -- but gazed upon theapparition. There was a mad disorder in my thoughts -- a tumult unappeasable. Could it, indeed, be the living Rowena whoconfronted me? Could it indeed be Rowena at all -- the fair-haired, the blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion of Tremaine?Why, why should I doubt it? The bandage lay heavily about the mouth -- but then might it not be the mouth of the breathingLady of Tremaine? And the cheeks-there were the roses as in her noon of life -- yes, these might indeed be the fair cheeks ofthe living Lady of Tremaine. And the chin, with its dimples, as in health, might it not be hers? -- but had she then growntaller since her malady? What inexpressible madness seized me with that thought? One bound, and I had reached her feet!Shrinking from my touch, she let fall from her head, unloosened, the ghastly cerements which had confined it, and therestreamed forth, into the rushing atmosphere of the chamber, huge masses of long and dishevelled hair; it was blacker thanthe raven wings of the midnight! And now slowly opened the eyes of the figure which stood before me. "Here then, at least,"I shrieked aloud, "can I never -- can I never be mistaken -- these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes -- of my lostlove -- of the lady -- of the LADY LIGEIA."

"Tales of Mystery and Imagination"

The Masque of the Red Death

Edger Allen Poe

Illustrated by Harry Clark

"The dagger dropped gleaming uponthe sable carpet"

The Masque of the Red Death

The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was itsAvatar and its seal--the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profusebleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were thepest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress andtermination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour. But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, hesummoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, andwith these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, thecreation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. Thecourtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neitherof ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. Withsuch precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantimeit was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there wereimprovisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and securitywere within. Without was the "Red Death". It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad,

that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

"It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade"

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. These were seven--animperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide backnearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different,as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the visionembraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a noveleffect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridorwhich pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with theprevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for examplein blue--and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here thepanes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted withorange--the fifth with white--the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries thathung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in thischamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet--a deepblood colour. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of goldenornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp orcandle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, aheavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room.And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect ofthe fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, andproduced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to setfoot within its precincts at all. It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung toand fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was tobe stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedinglymusical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra wereconstrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceasedtheir evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, itwas observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if inconfused revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; themusicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to theother, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixtyminutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of

the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before. But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eyefor colours and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptionsglowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It wasnecessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not. He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and itwas his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were muchglare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm--much of what has been since seen in "Hernani". There were arabesquefigures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were muchof the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might haveexcited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these--the dreams--writhed in and about taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of theirsteps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, andall is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away--theyhave endured but an instant--and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the musicswells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows throughwhich stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none ofthe maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes;and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the nearclock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulged in the more remotegaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel wentwhirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as Ihave told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. Butnow there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thoughtcrept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it happened,perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowdwho had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no singleindividual before. And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length fromthe whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise--then, finally, of terror, of horror, and ofdisgust. In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could haveexcited such sensation. In truth the masquerade licence of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of themost reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests,there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costumeand bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to footin the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of astiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have beenendured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the RedDeath. His vesture was dabbled in blood--and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with thescarlet horror. When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if morefully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with astrong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage. "Who dares,"--he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him--"who dares insult us with this blasphemousmockery? Seize him and unmask him--that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!" It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rangthroughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushedat the waving of his hand.

"to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was asharp cry--and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. "

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there wasa slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now,with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the madassumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that,unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank fromthe centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step whichhad distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple--through the purple to the green--through thegreen to the orange--through this again to the white--and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been madeto arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentarycowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that hadseized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of theretreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted hispursuer. There was a sharp cry--and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards,fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at oncethrew themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within theshadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which theyhandled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form. And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by onedropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And thelife of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness andDecay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.