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