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COURTESY OF THE EVIL GENIUS OF EDGAR ALLEN
POE.
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!
One of his eyes resembled that 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 for ever.
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 so 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 had 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 the 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 has
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 single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from
the crevice and fell 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 now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is
but over-acuteness of the senses? 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 eye. 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 eye 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. I 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
anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any
kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that.
When I had made an end of these labours, 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 : I talked more freely to get rid
of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness --
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. O 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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