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 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 [column 2:] — 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, 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 [page 98:] 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 from out the-crevice [[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 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. [column
2:] 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 [[anything]] 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 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. 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!
— [page 99:] "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no
more! I
admit
the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of
his
hideous heart!"
EDGAR A. POE. |
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