Speaker 1: The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe. For the most
wild yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen,
I neither expect nor solicit belief, Mad, Indeed would I
be to expect it in a case where my very
senses reject their own evidence. Yet, Mad, I am not,
and very surely do I not dream. But to morrow
I die, and to day I would unburden my soul.
My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly,
and without comment, a series of mere household events. In
their consequences. These events have terrified, have tortured, have destroyed me.
Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me,
they have presented little but whore to many. They will
seem less bearable than baroques. Hereafter, perhaps some intellect may
be found which will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace,
some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable
than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I
detail with awe nothing more than an ordinary succession of
very natural causes and effects. From my infancy. I was
noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My
tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make
me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond
of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a
great variety of pets. With these I spent most of
my time, and never was so happy as when feeding
and caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my
growth and in my manhood. I derived from one of
my principal sources of pleasure. To those who have cherished
an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need
hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or
the intensity of the gratification thus deliverable. There is something
in the unselfish and self sacrificing love of a brute
which goes directly to the heart of him who has
had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer
fidelity of mere man. I married early, and was happy
to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with
my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost
no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind.
We had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey,
and a cat. This latter was a remarkable, large and
beautiful animal, entirely black and sagacious to an astonishing degree.
In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart
was not a little tincture with superstition, made frequent allusions
to the ancient popular notion which regarded all black cats
as witches in disguise. Not that she was ever serious
upon this point, And I mentioned the matter at all
for no better reason than that it happens just now
to be remembered. Pluto, this was the cat's name, was
my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and
he attended me wherever I went about the house. It
was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from
following me through the streets. Our friendship lasted in this
manner for several years, during which my general temperament and character,
through the instrumentality of the fiend in temperance, had I
blushed to confess, it, experienced a radical alteration. For the worse.
I grew day by day more moody, more irritable, more
regardless of the feelings of others, I suffered myself to
use intemperate languish to my wife. At length, I even
offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made
to feel the change in my disposition. I not only
neglected them, but ill used them. For Pluto, however, I
still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him,
as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey,
or even the dog, when by accident or through affection,
they came in my way. But my disease grew upon me,
for what disease is like alcohol, And at length even Tuto,
who was now becoming old and consequently somewhat peevish. Even
Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated from one of my
haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence.
I seized him, when, in his fright at my violence,
he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth.
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew
myself no longer. My original soul seemed at once to
take its flight from my body, and a more than
fiendish malevolence gin nurtured thrilled every fiber of my frame.
I took from my waistcoat pocket a penknife. Opened it,
grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut
one of his eyes from the socket. I blush, I burn,
I shudder while I pen the damnable atrocity. When reason
returned with the morning, when I had slept off the
fumes of the night's debauch, I experienced a sentiment half
of horror, half of remorse for the crime of which
I had been guilty. But it was at best a
feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I
again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all
memory of the deed. In the meantime, the cat slowly
recovered the socket of the lost eye presented, is true
a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer
any pain. He went about the house as usual, but
as might be expected, fled in extreme tear at my approach.
I had so much of my old heart left as
to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on
the part of a creature which had once so loved me.
But this feeling soon gave place to irritation, and then came,
as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow. The spirit
of perverseness of this spirit, philosophy takes no account. Yet
I am not more sure that my soul lives than
I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses
of the human heart, one of the indivisible primary faculties
or sentiments, which give direction to the character of man,
who has not hundreds of times found himself committing a
vile or silly action for no other reason than because
he knows he should not. Have We not a perpetual
inclination in the teeth of our best judgment to violate
that which is law, merely because we understand it to
be such. This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to
my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the
soul to vex itself, to offer violence to its own nature,
to do wrong for wrong's sake, only that urged me
to continue, and finally, to consummate the injury I had
inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cold blood,
I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it
to the limb of a tree. Hung it with the
tears streaming from my eyes and the bitterest remorse at
my heart. Hung it because I knew that it had
loved me, and because I felt it had given me
no offense. Hung it because I knew that in so
doing I was committing a sin, a deadly sin that
would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it
if such a thing were possible, even beyond the reach
of the infinite mercy of the most merciful and most
terrible God. On the night of the day on which
this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep
by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed
were in flames. The whole house was blazing. It was
with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself
made our escape from the conflagration. The destruction was complete,
My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned
myself thenceforward to despair. I am above the weakness of
seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect between
the disaster and the atrocity. But I am telling a
chain of facts, and wished not to leave even a
possible link imperfect. On the days succeeding the fire, I
visited the ruins the walls, with one exception had fallen in.
This exception was found in a compartment wall not very thick,
which stood about the middle of the house, and against
which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering
had here in great measure resisted the action of the fire,
a fact which I attribute to its having been recently
spread about this wall. A dense crowd were collected, and
many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of
it with very minute and eager attention. The words strange, singular,
and other similar expressions excited my curiosity. I approached and saw,
as if graven in base relief, upon the white surface,
the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given
with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about
the animal's neck. When I first beheld this apparition, for
I could scarcely regard it as less. My wonder and
my terror were extreme, But at length reflection came to
my aid. The cat I remembered had been hung in
a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire.
This garden had been immediately filled by the crowd, by
some one of whom the animal must have been cut
from the tree and thrown through an open window in
my chamber. This had probably been done with a view
of arousing me from sleep. The falling of other walls
had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance
of the freshly spread plaster, the lime of which, with
the flames and the ammonia from the carcass, had then
accomplished the portraiture as I saw it. Although I thus
readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience,
for the startling fact just detailed, it did not the
less fail to make a deep impression upon my fancy.
For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm
of the cat, And during this period there came back
into my spirit a half sentiment that seemed but was
not remorse. I went so far as to regret the
loss of the animal, and to look about me among
the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another
pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance,
with which to supply its place. One night, as I
sat half stupefied in a den of more than infamy.
My attention was suddenly drawn to some black object reposing
upon the head of one of the immense hogheads of
gin or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of
the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top
of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused
me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner
perceived the object. Thereupon I approached it and touched it
with my hand. It was a black cat, a very
large one, fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling
him in every respect, But only Pluto had not a
white hair upon any portion of his body. But this
cat had a large, although indefinite, splotch of white covering
nearly the whole region of the breast. Upon touching him,
he immediately arose, purred, loudly, rubbed against my hand, and
appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the very
creature of which I was in search. I at once
offered to purchase it of the landlord, but this person
made no claim to it, knew nothing of it, had
never seen it before. I continued my caresses, and when
I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition
to accompany me. I permitted it to do so, occasionally
stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached
the house, it domesticated itself at once and became immediately
a great favorite with my wife. For my own part,
I soon found a dislike to it arising within me.
This was just the reverse of what I had anticipate,
But I know not how or why it was. Its
evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed me. By
slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into
the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature, a certain
sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed
of cruelty preventing me from physically abusing it. I did
not for some week strike or otherwise violently ill use it.
But gradually, very gradually, I came to look upon it
with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence,
as from the breath of a pestilence. What added no
doubt to my hatred of the beast was the discovery,
on the morning after I brought it home that, like Pluto,
it all so had been deprived of one of its eyes.
This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who,
as I have already said, possessed in a high degree
that humanity of feeling, which had once been my distinguishing
trait and the source of many of my simplest and
purest pleasures. With my aversion to this cat, however, its
partiality for myself seemed to increase. It followed my footsteps
with a pernacity which it would be difficult to make
the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath
my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with
its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk, it would
get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down,
or fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress,
clamber in its manner to my breast. At such times,
although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I
was yet withheld from doing so, partly by a memory
of my former crime, but chiefly, let me confess it
at once, by absolute dread of the beast. This dread
was not exactly a dread of physical evil. And yet
I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it.
I am almost ashamed to own. Yes, even in this
felon cell I am almost ashamed to own that the
terror and horror with which the animal inspired me had
been heightened by one of the merest chimeras it would
have been possible to conceive. My wife had called my
attention more than once to the character of the mark
of white hair of which I have spoken, and which
constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and
the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that
this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite, but
by slow degrees degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a
long time my reasons struggled to reject as fanciful, it
had at length assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It
was now the representation of an object that I shudder
to name, And for this above all I loathed and dreaded,
and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared.
It was now, I say, the image of a hideous,
of a ghastly thing, of the gallows, oh mournful and
terrible engine of horror, and of cras time of agony
and of death. And now was I indeed wretched beyond
the wretchedness of mere humanity, and a brute beast whose
fellow I had contemptuously destroyed, A brute beast to work
out for me, for me, a man fashioned in the
image of the High God, so much of insufferable woe,
alas neither by day nor night knew I the blessing
of rest anymore. During the former, the creature left me
no moment alone, And in the latter I started, hourly
from dreams of unutterable fear to find the hot breath
of a thing upon my face, and its vast weight,
an incarnate nightmare that I had no power to shake off,
incumbent eternally upon my heart. Beneath the pressure of torments
such as these, the feeble remnants of the good within
me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole inmates, the darkest
of most evil thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper
increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind,
while from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of fury
to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife
alas was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.
One day she accompanied me upon some household errand into
the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled
us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs,
and nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Lifting
an axe and forgetting in my wrath the childish dread
which had hitherto stayed my hand. I aimed a blow
at the animal, which of course would have proved instantly
fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow
was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded by
the interference into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew
my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in
her brain. She fell dead upon the spot without a groan.
This hideous murder accomplished. I set myself forthwith and with
entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I
knew that I could not remove it from the house,
either by day or by night, without the risk of
being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind.
At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into
minute fragments and destroying them by fire. At another I
resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor
of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it into
the well in the yard, about packing it in a
box as if merchandise, with the usual arrangements, and so
getting a porter to take it from the house. Finally
I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient
than either of these. I determined to wall it up
in the cellar, as the monks of the Middle Ages
I recorded to have walled up their victims for a
purpose such as this. The cellar was well adapted. Its
walls were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout
with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere
had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls
was a projection caused by a false chimney or fireplace
that had been filled up and made to resemble the
rest of the cellar. I made no doubt that I
could readily displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse,
and wall the whole up as before, so that no
eye could detect anything suspicious. And in this calculation. I
was not deceived by means of a crowbar. I easily
dislodged the bricks, and having carefully deposited the body against
the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while
with little trouble, I relayed the whole structure as it
originally stood, Having procured murder, sand and hair with every
possible precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be
distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully
went over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I
felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not
present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish
on the floor was picked up with the minutest care.
I looked around triumphantly and said to myself, here at last,
then my labor has not been in vain. My next
step was to look for the beast which had been
the cause of so much wretchedness, for I had at
length firmly resolved to put it to death. Had I
been able to meet with it at the moment, there
could have been no doubt of its fate. But it
appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the
violence of my previous anger, and forbore to present itself
in my present mood. It is impossible to describe or
imagine the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the
absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It
did not make its appearance during the night, and thus
for one night at least, since its introduction into the house,
I soundly and tranquility slept. I slept, even with the
burden of murder upon my soul. The second and third
day passed, and still my tormentor came not once again.
I breathed as a free man. The monster in terror
had fled the premises, forever I should behold it no more.
My happiness was supreme. The guilt of my dark deed
disturbed me but a little. Some few inquiries had been made,
but these had been readily answered. Even a search had
been instituted, but of course nothing was to be discovered.
I looked upon my future felicity as secured. Upon the
fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police
came very unexpectedly into the house and proceeded again to
make a rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure. However, in
the inscrutability of my place of concealment. I felt no
embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me to accompany them in
their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length.
For the third or fourth time they descended into the cellar,
I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat as
calmly as that of one whose slumbers in innocence. I
walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my
arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro.
The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The
glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained.
I burned to say but one word by way of triumph,
and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness. Gentlemen,
I said at last, as the party ascended the steps,
I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you
all health and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen,
this this is a very well constructed house. In the
rabbit desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what
I uttered it all, I may say, an excellently well
constructed house these walls. Are you going, gentlemen? These walls
are solidly put together. And here, through the mere frenzy
of bravado, I rapped heavily with a cane, which I
held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick,
behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.
But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs
of the arch fiend. No sooner had the reverberation of
my blows sunk into the silence, than I was answered
by a voice from within the tomb, by a cry,
at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child,
and then quickly swelling into one long, loud and continuous scream,
utterly anomalous and inhuman, a howl, a wailing shriek, half
of horror and half of triumph, such as might have
arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of
the damned in their agony, and of the demons that
exalted in the damnation of my own thoughts. It's folly
to speak swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For
an instant. The party upon the stairs remained motionless through
extremity of terror, and of awe, and the next a
dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily.
The corpse, already getting decayed and clotted with gore, stood
erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head,
with red extended mouth and solitary terry eye of fire
set the hideous beast, whose craft had seduced me into murder,
and whose informing voice had consigned me to the hangman.
I had walled the monster up within the tomb end
of the Black Cat