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 | موضوع: The Black Cat - A Short Story by Edgar Allan Poe  3/7/2011, 3:33 pm | |
| The Black Cat - A Short Story by Edgar Allan Poe Guilt, no matter how big or small, will be discovered sonner or later. Have
a nice time reading this wonderful short story.
THE BLACK CAT
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 am I
not - and very surely do I not dream. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I
would unburthen 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 Horror - to many they will
seem less terrible than _barroques_. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect
may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place - 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 it 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 derivable. 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, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and _a cat_.
This latter was a remarkably 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 tinctured with
superstition, made frequent allusion 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 mention 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 Intemperance - had (I blush 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 language 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, 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 Pluto, 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 fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a
pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and
deliberately cut one of its 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, it 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 terror 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, a hundred
times, found himself committing a vile or a 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 the 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 cool 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 with 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 reason of offence; - 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 wore
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 detailing a
chain of facts - and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect.
On the day 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
attributed 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 _bas relief_ upon the
white surface, the figure of a gigantic _cat_. The impression was given
with an accuracy truly marvellous. 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, into my
chamber. This had probably been done with the 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 stupified, 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 hogsheads 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 one. 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 my 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 anticipated; but - I know not how or
why it was - its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and
annoyed. 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 weeks, 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 also 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 pertinacity 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 this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I
longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing,
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's 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 chimaeras it would be 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
Reason 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 Crime -
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 wo! Alas! neither by
day nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more! 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 _the thing_ upon my face, and its vast weight - an incarnate
Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off - incumbent eternally upon
my _heart !_
Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of
the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates -
the darkest and most evil of 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 a 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. Uplifting 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 in the well in the yard - about packing it in a box, as if
merchandize, 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 are 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 red 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 any thing suspicious.
And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crow-bar 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 re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood.
Having procured mortar, 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 least, 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 forebore to
present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe, or to
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 tranquilly slept; aye,
slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul!
The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not.
Once again I breathed as a freeman. 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 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 rigorous
investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability
of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The
officers bade me 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
calmly as that of one who 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
if 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 rabid desire to say something easily, I
scarcely knew what I uttered at 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 phrenzy of
bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon
that very portion of the brick-work 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 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
dammed in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.
Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the
opposite wall. For one instant the party upon the stairs remained
motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next, a
dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse,
already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the
eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and
solitary eye of fire, sat 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!
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