Poe Selections-Packet 1

January 2011

Con te nt s :

Alon e

Th e Bells

El Dora do

Th e Ra ven

Th e Tell-Ta le Hea r t

Th e Ca s k of Am on tilla do

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Part Four: Edgar Allen Poe Selections

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Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring—

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone—

And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev'ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still—

From the torrent, or the fountain—

From the red cliff of the mountain—

From the sun that 'round me roll'd

In its autumn tint of gold—

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass'd me flying by—

From the thunder, and the storm—

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view—

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The Bells

I.

Hear the sledges with the bells—

Silver bells!

What a world of merriment their melody foretells!

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night!

While the stars that oversprinkle

All the heavens, seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells—

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

Hear the mellow wedding bells

Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

Through the balmy air of night

How they ring out their delight!

From the molten-golden notes,

And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats

On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells,

What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!

How it swells!

How it dwells

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On the Future! how it tells

Of the rapture that impels

To the swinging and the ringing

Of the bells, bells, bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,


To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III.

Hear the loud alarum bells—

Brazen bells!

What tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!

In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,

They can only shriek, shriek,

Out of tune,

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,

In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,

Leaping higher, higher, higher,

With a desperate desire,

And a resolute endeavor

Now—now to sit or never,

By the side of the pale-faced moon.

Oh, the bells, bells, bells!

What a tale their terror tells

Of Despair!

How they clang, and clash, and roar!

What a horror they outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!

Yet the ear, it fully knows,

By the twanging,

And the clanging,

How the danger ebbs and flows ;

Yet, the ear distinctly tells,

In the jangling,

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And the wrangling,

How the danger sinks and swells,

By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—

Of the bells—

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,


In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!

IV.

Hear the tolling of the bells—

Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!

In the silence of the night,

How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy meaning of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

Is a groan.

And the people—ah, the people—

They that dwell up in the steeple,

All alone,

And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,

In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone—

They are neither man nor woman—

They are neither brute nor human—

They are Ghouls:—

And their king it is who tolls ;

And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan from the bells!

And his merry bosom swells

With the pæan of the bells!

And he dances, and he yells ;


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To the pæan of the bells—

Of the bells :



To the throbbing of the bells—

Of the bells, bells, bells—

To the sobbing of the bells ;


As he knells, knells, knells,

In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells—

Of the bells, bells, bells—

To the tolling of the bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—


To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

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El Dorado

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old,

This knight so bold,

And o'er his heart a shadow

Fell as he found

No spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow;

"Shadow," said he,

"Where can it be,

This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains

Of the moon,

Down the valley of the shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,"

The shade replied,—

"If you seek for Eldorado!"

1'518

The Raven 1

By -- Quarles(The following lines [roin a cO'Tespondent-besides the deep

'Jltuini sirc/in of the sentin"lel1t., and the clt.rioHS jntrodlfctio1Z O!SOIJU!

ludicrous touches amidst the serious and illIpressil'e, as ",as doubtlessintended by the a"thor-appear t·o us ol1e of the HlOSt[eiicitousspecim.ens of uni.que rhyl"ning 1vh.ich has for so'me time met Ollr eye.Tue resources of English rhythm for !'arieties oj melody, measure, amisOlllld, producing corresponding diversities of effect, have beenthoroughly studied, much more perceived, hy veTY few poets i,., thelanguage. WI,ile the classic tongues, especiall)' the Greeu; possess, h'pOll1er- of «ccenr, severed advantages for versihcation over 010' 011'J'l,

chiefly through greater abundance of spol1d(fic [eet,' we have ot,her£1",1 I'e,}, great advantages of SOtlnd by the modem usage of rhvme.Alliteration is nearly the only effect of that hind l!'hic/' the ancientshad in CO""'lOll with us. [t will be seen that much of the melody of"The Rave,," arises ji-o", alliteration, and the studious "se of similavSUl!;uLo; il'l lIlllfslf!l1 places. In regard to its HleaSlo-e, it 1J1ay be notedilun if all tlu: verses were lilw tlie second, they ,night properly beplaced ",erely il1 short lines, producing a 110tHnC011l'lllOl'l form; billthe I,,"eserzce in all the others of one line-mostly the second il1 theverse-which flows cO'llti,1'lu ..ollsly, with. Duly an aspirate pause il'l themiddle, lil:« that before the S"OI"tline in the Sapphic AdoHic,' wlii!«the fift·1t has at the middle pame no similarity of sOlmd with 1my partbesides, gil'es the versification an entirely different effect. We couldivisl: the capacities of 01£r noble l",.guage, in prosody, were betterwILlerstood.-ED. AM. REV"I

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door." Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

Only this, and nothing more,"

I. This printing or Poes most famous poem istaken from the A.Hleiicnl1 Reviell': A 'Vhig JOHn-wIof Potiucs, Literature, Art. and Science 1 (February1845), vvhere it was first set in type; the New YorkEvelli;zg iV1i,Tor printed the poem, on January 29,] 845, from the pages of the Americnn Ret'iew. Theprefatory paragraph. signed as iF it were by the edi-~~- •• j: ~J."" d ,~~" •..; •..,..., R ...••,;"~,, j" •...••t~jn •••rl hprp

because Poe most likelv had a hand in it. if he didnot write it all. Many 'minor variations appear inlater texts.2. A spondee is a metrical foot consisting of twostressed syllables.3. A Greek lyric form. In prosody an adonic is adactyl (a foot with one long syllable and two shortnnp,,) Fnllnweo bv a snondee.

THE RAVEN / 1519

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had tried to borrowFrom rnv books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-- 10

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-Nameless here for evermore,

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 15

.. Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door-Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;-

This it is, and nothing more,"

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 20

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-

Darkness there, and nothing more,

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 2';

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream ·before;But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"This 1 whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"

Merely this, and nothing more, 30

Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before,"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- 3\

'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- 40

Perched upon a bust of Pallas" just above my chamber door-Perched, and sat, and nothing more,

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, 45

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian" shore!"

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore,"

4. Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and thearts.

5. Black, as in the underworld of Greek mythol-ogy.

1520 / EDGAR ALLAN POE

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore; ;0

For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary" beingEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only ;5

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." hO

Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful DisasterFollowed fast and followed faster-so, when Hope he would adjure,Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure- 0;

That sad answer, "Nevermore!"

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- 70

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yoreMeant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining "On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censerSwung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. so"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent

theeRespite-respite and Nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Let me quaff this kind Nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evill-prophet still, if bird or devil!- 85

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore-Is there-is there balm in Gilead?9-tell me=-tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." 90

6. Earthlv, beneath the moon.7. This stanza concluded in the 184::; volume withthese lines: "Followed faster [ill his songs one hur-den bore-I Till the dirges of' his Hope that mel-

ancholv burden bore of ';\ievC'r-nevermorc.· ..8. Drug that induces oblivion,9. An echo or the ironic words in [ercrniah 8.22:"Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician

To---. ULALUME: A BALLAD I 152 i

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evill-s-prophet still, if bird or devil!By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, I

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." y,

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken-quit the bust above my door: 100

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, 10'

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;And rnv soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

. Shall be lifted-nevermore!

1845

there?" Gilead is a mountainous area east of theJordan River between the Sea of Galilee and theDead Sea; evergreens growing there were an amplesource of medicinal resins.

1572 / EDGAR ALLAN POE THE TELL-TALE HEART / 1573

The Tell-Tale Heart '

Art is long and Time is fleeting,And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still. like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the grave.

Longfellow'

True!-nervous-very, very dreadfully nervous 1 had been, and am; butwhy will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses-notdestroyed-not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. Iheard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell.How, then, am I mad? Harken! and observe how healthily-how calmly Ican tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but, once con-ceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion therewas none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had nevergiven me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye!-yes, itwas this! He had the eye of a vulture-a pale blue eye, with a film over it.Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so, by degrees-very grad-ually-I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myselfof the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But youshould have seen 1'I1-e. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded-withwhat caution-with what foresight-with what dissimulation 1went to work!I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killedhim. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door andopened it-oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficientfor my head, I first put in a dark lantern, l all closed, closed, so that no lightshone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to seehow cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly-very, very slowly, so that Imight not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my wholehead within the opening so far that I could see the old man as he lay uponhis bed. Ha!-would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, whenmy head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cau-tiously (for the hinges creaked)-I undid it just so much that a single thinray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights-everynight just at midnight-but I found the eye always closed; and so it wasimpossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but hisEvil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into hischamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a heartytone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have

I. First published in The Pioneer (january! 843).the source of the present text. roe very likely madea few of the changes for the reprinting in theBroadway [ournai (August 2.i, 184)) (such aschanging the olel mall to "he" or "him" a few times),but the Broadway [onrnal compositor droppedsome necessarv words (footnoted in the text). mis-printed other~. and bungled the punctuation

(including the use or italics) throughout. Ivlos t

modern reprint ings derive from the corrupt 1845text that Rufus Criswold reprinted in the first vol-ume of Pee's posthumous Wo"'", (1850).2. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's (1807-18821"A Psalm of Life." lines 13-16.3. One with panes that can he covered.

been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just attwelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening thedoor. A watch's minute-hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never,before that night, had I felt the extent of my own powers-of my sagacity, Icould scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was,opening the door, little by little, and the old man not even to dream of mysecret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea. And perhaps the oldman heard me; for he moved in the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now youmay think that I drew back-but no. His room was as black as pitch withthe thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear ofrobbers.) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, andI kept on pushing it steadily, steadily.

I had got my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumbslipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in the bed, cryingout-"Vlho's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For another hour I did not move amuscle, and in the meantime I did not hear the old man lie down. He wasstill sitting up in the bed, listening;-just as I have done, night after night,hearkening to the death-watches" in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew that it was the groan of mortalterror. It was not a groan of pain, or of grief-oh, no!-it was the low, stifledsound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. Iknew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the worldslept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadfulecho, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the oldman felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he hadbeen lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in thebed. His fears had been, ever since, growing upon him. He had been tryingto fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself-HItis nothing but the wind in the chimney-it is only a mouse crossing thefloor," or "it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he hadbeen trying to comfort himself with these suppositions; but he had found allin vain. All in vain; because death, in approaching the old man, had stalkedwith his black shadow before him, and the shadow had now reached andenveloped the victim." And it was the mournful influence of the unperceivedshadow that caused him to feel-although he neither saw nor heard me-to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing the oldman lie down, I resolved to open a Iittle-a very, very little crevice in thelantern. So I opened it-you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily-until,at length, a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out thecrevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open-wide, 'wide open-and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. Isaw it with perfect distinctness-all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it

4. Beetles that make CI hollow clicking sound bystriking their heads against the wood into whichthev burrow. ~5. ~rhe 1845 text reads: "All in lit/ill; because

Death, in approaching him had stalked with hisblack shadow heForc him. and enveloped the vie-urn.


that chilled the very marrow in mv bones; but I could see nothing else of theold man's face or person: for I had directed the ray, as if by instinct, preciselyupon the damned spot.

And now-have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is butover acuteness of the senses?-now, I say, there came to my ears a 101{', dull,quich: sound-s-muon such a sound as a watch. malces when enveloped in cotton,I knew that sound well, too, It was the beating of the old man's heart. Itincreased my fury. as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into cour-age.

But even vet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held thelantern moti~nless. J tried how steadilv I could maintain the ray upon theeye. Meantime the hellish tattoo" of tile heart increased. It grew qu icker,and louder and louder everv instant. The old man's terror must have beenextreme! It gre'w louder. I Sa)I,louder every moment:-do you mark me weIr.I have told vou that I am nervous:-so I am. And now. at the dead hour ofnight, and ;mid the dreadful silence of that old house. so strange a noise asthis excited me to uncontrollable wrath.' Yet. for some minutes longer. Irefrained and kept still. But the beating grew louder. louder! I thought theheart must burst! And now a new anxiety seized me-the sound would beheard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell. I threwonen the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once-once only.I~ an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavv bed over him.I then sat upon the bed' and smiled gaily. to find the deed so far done. But.for many minutes, the heart beat on. with a muffled sound. This, however.did not vex me; it would not be heard through the walls. At length it ceased.The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, hewas stone. stone dead. I placed 111)' hand upon the heart and held it theremany minutes. There was no pulsation. The old man was stone dead. Hiseve would trouble me no more .. If. still, YOU think me mad. you will think so no longer when 1describe the

wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned.and I worked hastilv, hut in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. rcut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three planks fromthe flooring of the chamber. and deposited all between the scantlings." 1thenreplaced the boards so cleverly. so cunningly, that no human eye-not evenhis-could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out-no stain of anv kind-no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.A tub had caught all--ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors. it was four o'clock-still dark asmidnight. As the bell sounded the hour. there came a knock.ing at the s~ree~door. I went down to open it with a light heart.-for what had I Hall' to tear:'There entered three men. who introduced themselves. with perfect suavity.as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard bva neighbor during th~night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodgedat the police-office. and they (the officers) had been deputed to search thepremises.

I smiled,-for what had I to fear) l bade the gentlemen welcome. The

6. Drumbeat.7. The 18...J.~text repiaL'L':-' l!'mlll \\ ith "terror."R. The 184;; text lucks the;' grisly derail of silting

un thl' bed while smiling g<lily C'! then smiled g:lily.to find the deed sO far done,").9. Smullplanks.

THE P l' R L 0 (N E IJ L E T1' E H I j ') 7 ')

shriek, I said, "vas my own in a dream, The old man. 1mentioned. was absentin the country. I took my visiters all over the house. ! bade them search-search well. I led them, at length. to his chamber. I showed them his treas-ures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I broughtchairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues; whileI myself. in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph. placed my own seatupon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied, My manner had convinced them. I was sin-gularly at ease. They sat, and. while I answered cheerily. thev chatted offamiliar things. But. ere long, I felt myself getting pale 'anci \~'ished themgone. Mv head ached. and ~ fancied a ringing in my ears: but still rhev satand still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: 1 talked more ['reei\, toget rid of the feeling; but it continued and gained definitiveness-until. atlength. 1 found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew per)' pale;-but I talke'd more fluently. and with aheightened voice. Yet the sound increased-and what could i do? It "as LI

/011', dull, quicl: sOtlnd-nluch such a sound as C/ watch 'malzeswhen envelopedill cotton. I gasped for breath-and yet the officers heard it not. j talked morequickly-more vehemently:-but the noise steadilv increased. I arose. andargued about trifles. in a high key and with violent' gesticulations;-but thenoise steadily increased. Whv would they not be gone') I paced the floor toand fro. with heavy strides. as if excited to Fury bv the observations of themen;-but the noise steadily increased. Oh dodl what could I do) I foa-med-I raved-l swore! l swung the chair upon which 1 had sat, and gratedit upon the boards;-but the noise arose over all and continuaJlv increased.It grew louder-louder-louder' And still the men chatted pleasantlv. andsmiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty Godl no. no! Thev he~rdl-they suspectedl-i-thev lmew!-thev were making a mockery of rnv hOITorl-this I thought. and this I think. But anything better than thi~ agon);! Anythingwas more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smilesno longer! I felt that I must scream or die I-and now-again'-hark! louder'louder] louder! louder!-

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed I-tear up theplanks!-here, herel-s-It is the beating or his hideous heart!"

iR43

1592 / EDGAR ALL r \r.; POE

The Cask of Amontillado 1

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but whenhe ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature

l . The text is that of [he first puhlicat ion , in (;ode) '..•iHoga=ine 1111£1 Lady's Roo!?' 33 (,'\,io\'emoer J H46).

THE CASK OF A.iV!ONTiLLADO / 1593

of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. Atlength I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled-but the verydefinitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I mustnot only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed whenretribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avengerfails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

It must be understood that neither hy word nor deed had I given Fortunatocause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in hisface, and he did not perceive that m)' smile noH' was at the thought of hisimmolation.

He had a weak point-this Fortunato-although in other regards he wasa man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself upon his con-noisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the mostpart their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practiceimposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gem-mary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of oldwines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially;-Iwas skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever Icould.

It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnivalseason, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessivew-armth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley.' He had ona tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted by the conicalcap and hells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought I should never haveclone wringing his hand.

I said to him-"My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkablywell you are iooking to-day. But I have received a pipe of what passes forAmontillado,' and I have my doubts."

"How?" said he. "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle ofthe carnival!"

"I have my doubts," 1replied: "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amon-tillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found,and I was Fearfu I of losing a bargain."

"Amon tilladol""I have my doubts. ,."Amontillado!""And I must satisfy them.""Amontillado! ""As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If anyone has a critical

turn it is he, He will tell me--""Luchrcsi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.""And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.""Come, let us go.""Whither?""To your vaults.""My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you

have an engagement. Luchresi--""I have no engagement;-come."

2. fours varicolored costume. .'). A light Sp~nish sherry. "Pipe": a large barrel.


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

"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! Youhave been imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherryfrom Amontillado."

Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on amask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire' closely about my person, I suf-fered him to hurry me to my palazzo.

There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry inhonour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morn-ing, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. Theseorders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance,one and all, as soon as my back was turned.

I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato,bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into thevaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to becautious as he followed. Vve came at length to the foot of the descent, andstood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.

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

"The pipe," said he."It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which gleams

from these cavern walls."He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that

distilled the rheum of intoxication."Nitre?" he asked, at length."Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?""Ugh! ugh! ugh!-ugh! ugh! ugh!-ugh! ugh !ugh!-ugh! ugh! ugh!-ugh!

ugh! ugh!"My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes."It is nothing," he said, at last."Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious.

You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. Youare a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will beill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchresi--"

"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shallnot die of a cough."

"True-true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming youunneccessarily-but you should use all proper caution. A draught of thisMedoc> will defend us from the damps."

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

"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly,

while his bells jingled."I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."

4. Saltpeter, the whitish mineral potassiumnitrate.

5. i\ knee-length cloak.6. J\ claret from near Bordeaux.

THE CASK OF A;vIONTILLADO / 1595

"And I to your long life."He again took my arm, and we proceeded."These vaults," he said, "are extensive.""The Montresors." J replied, "were a great and numerous family.""I forget your arms.""A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent ram-

pant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel. "7

"And the motto?""Nemo me isnpune lacessit. r«"Good!" he said.The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew

warm with the Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons,with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses 01' thecatacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato byan arm above the elbow.

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

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

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

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement-a grotesque one."You do not comprehend?" he said."Not I," I replied."Then you are not of the brotherhood.""How?""You are not of the masons.""Yes, yes," J said; "yes, yes.""You? Impossible! A mason?""A mason," I replied."A sign," he said, "a sign.""It is this," I answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire

a trowel."You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few p·aces. "But let us proceed to the

Amontillado. ""Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and again offering

him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our rout in search ofthe Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended,passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foul-ness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.

At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another Jess spacious.Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, inthe fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior cryptwere still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones hadbeen thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one

7. On the coat of ar-ms the golden foot is in a bluebackground: the rOOl crushes a serpent whose headis reared up.

8. No one insults me with impunity (Latin).9. 1\ white Bordeaux wine.

J 596 / EDGAR ALLAI POE

point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacingof the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about fourfeet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been con-structed for no especial Lise within itself, but formed merely the intervalbetween two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and wasbacked by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to pryinto the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enableus to see.

"Proceed," I said; "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchresi--""He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily

forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. ln an instant he hadreached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by therock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I had Fettered him tothe granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each otherabout two Feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, fromthe other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the workof a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. With-drawing the key I stepped back from the recess.

"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre.Indeed, it is very damp. Once more let me implore vou to return. No;' ThenI must positively leave you. But I will first render you all the little attentionsin my power."

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not vet recovered from his aston-ishment.

"True," I replied: "the Amontillado,"As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which!

have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity ofbuilding stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of mytrowel, I began vigorously to wa 1Iup the entrance of the niche,

I had scarcelv laid the first tier of the masonrv when I discovered that theintoxication of 'Fortunato had in great measure' worn off. The earliest indi-cation I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. Itwas not the crv of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinatesilence. I laid t1~esecond tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heardthe furious vibration of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, dur-ing which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased mylabours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided,I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth,and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upan a level with my breast.I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw 8 fell'feeble rays upon the figure within.

A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenlv from the throatof the chained form. seemed to thrust me violently back. For 8 brief momentI hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it aboutthe recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my handupon the solid fabric of the catacombs and felt satisfied. I reapproached thewall. I replied to the veils 01' him who c1amoured. 1 re-echoed, I aided, Isurpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clarnourer grewstill.

THE PHIL.OSOPHY OF CO~'lPOSlTjOl\:

It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. 1 had completedthe eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the lastand the eleventh: there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plasteredin, I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position.But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairsupon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty inrecognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said- '

"Ha! ha! hal-e-he! he! hel-a very good joke, indeed-an excellent jest. Wewill have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo-he! he] hel-~ver ourwine-he I he! he!"

"The Amontillado!" I said."He! he! hel-he! he! he!-ves, the Amontillado. But is it not gelting late?

Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo-the Lady Fortunato and therest? Let us be gone."

"Yes," I said, "let us be gone.""For the lope of God, Montresor!""Yes," J said, "for the love of God!"But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient.

called aloud-"Fortunato!"No answer. I called again-"Fortunato!"No answer still. 1 thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it

fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heartgrew sick it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastenedto make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position: Iplastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart ofbones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. l n pace req-uiescat!

I. ;\hl~ he rest in Pl'<1CC! I Lat in i.

1597

1846

Poe Selections-Packet 1

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