Tales of Mystery and Imagination

(Contort*.

rxcr.

Memoir 01' the Author .... . xi

TALES.

The Gold-beetle 1 Startling Effects of Mesmekism on a Dying Man . 47 A Descent into the Maelstrom 68 The Murders in the Rue Morgue .... 80 The Mystery of Marie Rogkt 122

The Purloined Letter 176 The Premature Burial 196 Some Words with a Mummy 212

POEMS.

The Eaven 232 Lhnore 288

The Bells :. 240 Ulalume 243 Annabel. Lee 246 Bridal Ballad 248 The Haunted Palace 260 Eulalie 251 For Annie 262 A Valentine 266 An Enigma 25G

3#raniir nf tjiB itrtjinr.

HE subjoined memoir of the author of the allowing remarkable Tales and Poems, has been derived from the particulars of Mb life, by the Rev. Rufus Grimswold, prefixed to a recent edition of his works.

ICdqau Allan Poe was born at Baltimore, in the United States, in January 1811. His father, David Poc, was descended of a good family. While a law student at Baltimore, ho became enamoured of an English actress named Elizabeth Arnold, whose prettiness and vivacity, rather than her genins for the stage, had made her a great favourite. An elopement was the result, which was followed by a marriage ; when the young lawyer gave up the dryer studies he had been engaged in to follow his wife's profession, and they continued to act in company at various theatres in tho principal cities of the Union till their deaths, which occurrod, in tho courso of somo fow yoars, within a short poriod of each other. They loft behind them threo young children in a state of utter destitution.

MEMOIR.

Edgar, the oldest, who was then about six years old, was a child of remarkable beauty and precocious wit. A Mr. John Allan, a merchant of large fortune and liberal disposition, who had been intimate with his parents, having no children of his own, adopted him; and it was generally understood among his acquaintances that ho intended to make him the heir of his estate.

In 1816, he accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Allan to Great Britain, when he visited the most interesting portions of the country, and afterwards passed four or five years in a school kept at Stoke Newington, near London, by the Kev. Dr. Bransby.

At the end of this period, he returned to the United States, and onterod the university at Charlottesville, where ho led a very dissipated life. The manners which then prevailed there were extremely dissolute, and he was known as the wildest and most reokloss student of his class ; but his unusual opportunities, and tho remarkable oase with which ho mastered tho most dlillcult studies, kept him all the while in tho first rank for scholarship, and he would have graduated with the highest honours, bad not his gambling, intemperance, and other vicos, induced his expulsion from the university.

At this period, he was noted for feats of hardihood, andstrength, activity ; and on one occasion, in a hot day of June, he swam from Richmond to Warwick, seven miles and a half, against a tide running probably from two to three miles an hour. Ho was export at fence, had some skill in drawing, and was a ready and eloquent conversationist and doclaimer.

His allowance of money whilo at Charlottosvillo had boon liberal, but he quitted the place very much in debt; and when Mr. Allan refused to accept some of the drafts with which he had paid his losses in gaming, he wrote to him an abusive letter, quitted his house, and soon after loft the country with the Quixotic intention of joining the Greeks, then in the midst of their struggle with the Turks. He never reached his destination, and we know but little of his adventures in Europe for nearly a year. By the end of this time, he had made his way to St. Petersburgh ; and, shortly after, tho American minister in that capital was summoned one morning to save him from penalties incurred in a drunken debauch. Through the ambassador's intercession, he was set at liberty and enabled to return to the United States.

His meeting with Mr. Allan was not very cordial, but that gentleman declared himself willing to serve him in any way that should seem judicious ; and when Poo expressed some anxiety to enter the Military Academy, he induced several eminent persons to sign an application which secured his appointment to a scholar ship in that institution.

For a few weeks, tho cadet applied himself with much assiduity

MKMOlll.

xin to his studies, and he became at once a favourite with his mess and with the officers and professors of the academy ; but his habits of dissipation were renewed ; he neglected his duties and dis obeyed orders ; and, in ten months from his matriculation, he was cashiered.

He again went to Kichmond, and was again received into the family of Mr. Allan, who was disposed still to be his friend, and, in the event of his good behaviour, to treat him as a son ; but it soon became necessary that he should close his doors against him for over. According to Poe'a own statement, he ridiculed the,' second marriago of his patron with a Miss Patorson, a lady somo years his junior, with whom he stated ho had a quarrel ; but a different ^tory, scarcely suitable for repetition hero, which, if true, throws a dark shade upon the quarrel and a very ugly light upon Poo's character, was told by the friends of the other party. What ever the circumstances, they parted in anger, and Mr. Allan, from that time, declined to see or in any way to assist him. Mr. Allan died in the spring of 1834, in the fifty-fourth year of his age, leaving three children to share his property, of which not a single dollar was bequeathed to Poo.

Soon after he left the Military Academy at West Point, Poe had printed at Baltimore a small volume of verses, and the favour able manner in which it was commonly referred to confirmed his belief that he might succeed in the profession of literature, to which he forthwith devoted himself. His contributions to the journals, however, attracted little attention, and his hopes of gain ing a living in this way being disappointed, he enlisted in the army as a private soldier. He was recognised by officers who had known him at the Military Academy, and efforts were mode, pri vately, but with prospects of success, to obtain for him a commis sion, when it was discovered by his friends that ho had deserted.

Ho next makes his appearance as a competitor for two prizes offered by the proprietor of the Baltimore Saturday Visitor, for the best tale and poem suited to his magazine, and it seems that when the committee met to multe their award, one of them, taking up a little book remarkably beautiful and distinct in caligrapby, was tempted to read several pages ; and, becoming interested, summoned the attention of the company to the half-dozen compositions it con tained. It was eventually unanimously decided that the prizes should be paid to " the first of geniuses who had written legibly." Not ano ther MS. was unfolded. Immediately the "confidential envelope" was opened, and the successful competitor was found to bear the scarcely known name of Poo. Tlio committco, indood, awarded to him the premiums for both I lie tnlo and tlio poem, but subsequently altered their decision, so as to exclude him from the second premium, in consideration of his having obtained the higher one. Tho prize

A*

XIV

MEMOIR.

tale was the MS. found in a Bottle. This award was published on the 12th of October, 1833. The next day, the publisher called to see Mr. Kennedy, one of the committee and a well-known lite rary oharaotor, and gave him an account of tho author, which excited his curiosity and sympathy, and caused him to request that he should bo brought to his office. Accordingly, he was intro duced ; the prizo-money had not yet been paid, and he was in the costume in which he had answered the advertisement of his good fortune. Thin, and pale even to ghastliness, his whole appearance indicated sickness and the utmost destitution. A well- worn frockcoat concealed the absence of a shirt, and imperfect boots disclosed tho want of hose. But the eyes of the young man wero luminous with intelligence and foeling, and his voico and conversation and manners all won upon tho lawyer's regard. Poo told his history, and his ambition, and it was determined that he should not want means for a suitable appoarance in society, nor opportunity for a just display of his abilities in literature Mr. Kennedy accompa nied him to a clothing store, and purchased for him a respectable suit, with changes of linen, and sont him to a bath, from which he returned with the suddenly-regained stylo of a gentleman. His new friends were very kind to him, and availed themselves of evory opportunity to serve him. Through their efforts, he obtained the editorship of a magazine published at Richmond, Virginia, to which ho contributed numerous articles ; but, after the lapse of a few months, his old habits of dissipation began to show themselves, and for a week he was in a condition of brutish drunkenness, which resulted in his dismissal. When ho became sober, however, he had no resource but in reconciliation ; and he wrote letters and induced acquaintances to call upon his employer, Mr. White, with professions of repentance and promises of re formation. With considerate and judicious kindness, that gentle man answered him :

" My dear Edgar, I cannot address you in such language as this occasion and my feelings demand : I must be content to speak to you in my plain way. That you are sincere in all your pro mises, I firmly believe ; but, when you onco again tread theso streets, I have my fears that your resolutions will fail, and that ' you will again drink till your senses are lost. If you rely on your strength, you are gone. Unless you look to your Maker for help, you will not be safe. How much I regretted parting from you, is known to Him only and myself. I had become attached to you ; I am still ; and I would willingly say return, did not a knowledge of your past life make mo dread a speedy renewal of our separation. If you would mako yourself contented with quarters in my house, or with any other private family, whoro liquor is not used, I should think there was some hopo for you ; but, if you go to a tavern, or

MEMOIK. XT

to any place where it is used at table, you are not safe. You have fine talents, Edgar, and you ought to have them respected, as well as yourself. Learn to respect yourself, and you will soon find that you are respected. Separate yourself from the bottle, and from bottle companions, for ever. Tell me if you can and will do so. If you again become an assistant in my office, it must be under stood that all engagements on my part cease the moment you get drunk. I am your true friend, T. W. W."

A new contract was arranged, but Poe's irregularities frequently interrupted the kindness, and finally exhausted the patience, of his gonorous though methodical omployer; and in January, 1837, he took his leave of the reader's of the magazine.

While in Richmond, with an income of but a hundred pounds a-y ear, he had married his cousin, Virginia Clemm, a very amiable and lovely girl, who was as poor as himself, and little fitted, except by her gentle temper, to be the wife of such a person. He went from Richmond to Baltimore, and, after a short time, to Philadel phia, and then to New York ; and, towards the end of the year 1838, ho settled in Philadelphia. He hod no very definite purposes, but trusted for support to the chances of success as a magazinist and newspaper correspondent Mr. Burton, a comedian, had recently established a magazine, in Philadelphia, and to this Poo first became a contributor and afterwards chief editor.

An awakened ambition, and the healthful influence of a con viction that his works were appreciated and that his fame was increasing, led him, for a while, to cheerful views of life and to regular habits of conduct. He wrote to one friend, that he had quite overcome "the seductive and dangerous besetment" by which he had so often been prostrated, and to another that, incre dible as it might seem, ho had become a " model of temperance," and of " other virtues," which it had sometimes been difficult for him to practise. Boforo tlio closo of tho summer, however, ho relapsed into his former courses, and for weeks was regardless of ovory tiling but a morbid and insatiable appetite for the means of intoxication.

He was with Mr. Burton until June, 1840 more than a year. Mr. Burton appreciated his abilities, and would gladly have con tinued the connexion, but Poe was so unsteady of purpose and so unreliable, that the actor was never sure when he left the city that his business would be cared for. On one occasion, returning after the regular day of publication, he found the number un finished and Poo incapable of duty. He prepared the necessary copy himself, published tho magazine, and was proceeding with orrangoinonts for anothor month, when ho rocoivod a letter from his assistant, of which tho tono may bo inferred from this answer :

" I am sorry you have thought it necessary to send me such a

letter. Your troubles have given n morbid tone to your feelings which it is your duty to discourage. I myself have been as severely handled by the world as you could possibly havo been, but my sufferings havo not tinged my mind with molancholy, nor jaundiood my viows of socioty. You must rouse your onorgios, and if care assail you, conquer it. I will gladly overlook the past. I hope you will as easily fulfil your pledges for the future. Wo shall agree very well, though I cannot permit the magazine to be made a vehicle for that sort of severity which you think is so ' successful with the mob.' I am truly much less anxious about making a monthly "sensation" than I am upon tho point of fair ness. You must, my dear sir, get rid of your avowed ill-feelings toward your brother authors. You sco I speak plainly : I cannot dp otherwise upon such a subject. You say the people love havoc, I think they love justice. I think you yoursolf would not have written the article on Dawes in a moro honlthy stato of mind. I am not trammelled by any vulgar consideration of expodioncy ; I would rather loso money than, by such undue severity, wound the feelings of a kind-hearted and honourable man ; and I am satisfied that Dawes has something of the true fire in him. I regretted your word-catching spirit. But I wander from my design. I accept your proposition to recommence your interrupted avocations upon the Maga. Let us meet as if we had not exchanged letters. Use more exercise, write when feelings prompt, and be assured of my friendship. You will soon regain a healthy activity of mind, and laugh at your' past vagaries."

This letter was kind and judicious. It gives us a glimpse of Foe's theory of criticism, and displays tho temper and principles of the literary comedian in an honourable light. Two or three months afterwards, Burton went out of town to fulfil a professional engagement, leaving material and directions for completing the next number of the magazine in four days. Ho was absent nearly a fortnight, and, on returning, he found that bis printers in the meanwhile had not receivod a line of copy ; but that Poe had propared tho prospectus of a new monthly, and obtained transcripts of his subscription and account books, to be used in a schemo for supplanting him. IIo oncountorod his associate lato in tho evening at ono of his accustomed haunts, and said : " Mr. Toe, I am asto nished : give me my manuscripts, so that I can attend to the duties you have so shamefully neglected, and when you are sober we will settle." Poe interrupted him with " Who are you that presume * to address me in this manner ? Burton, I am the editor of the Venn Magazine &ni you are hiccup a fool." Of course, this ended his relations with the magazine.

A few months afterwards, however, he was installed as oditor of Graham') Magazine, and his connexion with this periodical which

MEMOIR. XVU lasted about a year and a half, was one of the most active and brilliant periods of his literary life. lie wrote in it several of his finest tales and most trenchant criticisms, and challenged attention by his papers entitled Autography, and those on cryptology and cyphers. In the first, adopting a suggestion of Lavater, he attempted the illustration of character from hand- writing ; and, in the second, he assumed that human ingenuity could construct no secret writing which human ingenuity could not resolve a not very dangerous proposition, since it implied no capacity in himself to discover every riddle of this kind that should be invented. He, howovor, succeeded with several difficult cryptographs that wore sent to him, and tho direction of his mind to tho subject led to tho composition of somo of tho tales of ratiocination which so largely increased his reputation. Tho infirmities which induced his separation from Mr. While and from Mr. Burton at length compelled Mr. Graham to seek for another editor; but Foe still remained in Philadelphia, engaged from time to time in various literary occupations, and in the vain effort to establish a journal of his own to bo called The Stylus. Although it requires consider able capital to carry on a monthly of the description he proposed, I think it would not have been difficult, with his well-earned fame as a magazinist, for him to have found a competent and suitable publisher, but for the unfortunate notoriety of his habits, and the failure in succession of three persons who had admired him for his genins and pitied him for his misfortunes, by every means that tact or friendship could suggest, to induce the consistency and steadiness of application indispensable to success in such Duringpursuits. his residence at Philadelphia, his manner, except during his fits of intoxication, was very quiet and gentlemanly ; he was usually dressed with simplicity and elegance; and there was a singular neatness and air of refinement in his home. It was in a small house, in ono of tho pleasant and silent neighbourhoods for from tho centro of tho town, and though slightly and cheaply fur nished, everything in it was so tasteful and so fitly disposed that it seemed altogether suitable for a man of genins. For this, and for most of tho comforts ho enjoyed in his brightest as in his darkest years, he was chiefly indebted to his mother-in-law, who loved him with more than maternal devotion and constancy.

In the autumn of 1844, Poe removed to New York, and forth with entered upon a new sort of life. Heretofore, from the com mencement of his literary career, ho had resided in provincial towns. Now ho was in a metropolis, and with a reputation which might havo sorved as a passport to any socioty ho could dosiro. For tho first timo, ho was received into circlos capablo of both appreciationtho and tho production of literature Ho added to his fame, soon after he came to tho city, by tho publication of that re

XVIU MEMOIR.

markable composition, The Haven, of which Mr. Willis has observed that, in his opinion, " it is the most offeotivo single example of fugitive poetry over published in America, and is unsurpassed in English poetry for subtlo conooption, masterly ingenuity of versi fication, and consistent sustaining of imaginative power." His repu tation as a magazinist rose rapidly, and he contributed numorous tales and critical articles to several of the chief periodicals. While on the high road to fame, however, he bocame engaged in various disputes, which of themselves, and the manner in which he sought to excuse his errors, reflect but little credit on his moral character. To give an example, he borrowed fifty dollars from a distinguished literary woman of South Carolina, promising to return it in a few days, and when ho failed to do so, and was askod for a written -acknowledgment of the debt that might bo exhibited to tho hus band of tho friend who had thus served him, he denied all know ledge of it, and threatened to exhibit u correspondence which ho said would make tho woman infamous, if she said any more on the subject. Of course, there had never been any such corres pondence ; but, when Foe heard that a brother of the slandered party was in quest of him for the purpose of taking the satisfaction supposed to be due in such cases, he sent for a friend and induced him to carry to the gentleman his retractation and apology, with a statement, which seemed true enough at the moment, that Foe was " out of his mind." It is an ungracious duty for a biographer to have to describe such conduct on the part of a person of Foe's unquestionable genius and enlarged capacity ; but those who are familiar with the career of this extraordinary creature, can un fortunately rocall but too many similar Asanecdotes. tho autumn of 1840 wore on, Foo's habits of frequent intoxi cation and his inattention to the means of support reduced him muchto pore than common destitution. He was now living at Fordham, several miles from New York, so that his necessities were not generally known even among his acquaintances; but when the dangerous illness of his wife was added to his misfortunes, and his dissipation and accumulated causes of anxiety had prostrated all his own energies, the subject was introduced into theJournals. Tho result was a variety of pecuniary contributions, sufuciont to relievo him from all temporary embarrassments ; but his wife did not live to share this better fortune, for the illness above mentioned terminated in her death. A circumstance narrated by Mr. N. P. Willis refers to the period of Foe's life:

" Our Bret knowledge of Mr. Poe's removal to this city was by n call which wo received from a lady who introduced herself to us as the mother of his wife. She was in search of employment for him, and she oxoused her errand by mentioning that he was ill, that her daughter was a confirmed invalid, and that their oirouni

MEMOIR. XII

stances were such as compelled her taking it upon herself. The countenance of this lady, mode beautiful and saintly with an evi dently complete giving up of her life to privation and sorrowful tenderness, her gentle and mournful voice urging its plea, her long-forgotten hut habitually and unconsciously-refined manners, and her appealing and yet appreciative mention of the claims and abilities of her son, disclosed at once the presence of one of those angels upon earth that women in adversity can he. It was a hard fate that she was watching over. Mr. Poe wrote with fastidious difficulty, and in a style too much above the popular level to be well paid. Ho was always in pecuniary difficulty, and, with his sick wife, frequently in want of tlio merest necessaries of life. Winter after winter, for years, the most touching sight to us, in this wholo city, has been that tireless minister to genius, thinly and insufficiently clad, going from office to offico with a poem, or an article on some literary subject, to sell sometimes simply pleading in a broken voice that he was ill, and begging for him mentioning nothing but that ' he was ill,' whatever might be the reason for his writing nothing and nover, amid all her tears and recitals of distress, suffering ono syllable to escape her lips that could convey a doubt of him, or a complaint, or a lessening ox pride in his genius and good intentions. Her daughter died, a year and a half since, but she did not desert him. She continued his ministering angel living with him caring for him guarding him against exposure, and, when he was carried away by tempta tion, amid grief and the loneliness of feelings iinreplied to, and awoke from his self-abandonment prostrated in destitution and suffering, begging for him still. If woman's devotion, born with a first love and fed with human passion, hallow its object, as it is allowed to do, what does not a devotion like this pure, disinte. rested, and holy as tho watch of an invisible spirit say for him who inspired it ? "

For nearly a year, Mr. Poe was not often before tho public, but he was as industrious, perhaps, as he had been at any time ; and, early in 1848, advertisement was made of his intention to deliver several lectures, with a view to obtain an amount of money sufficient to establish a long-contemplated monthly magazine. His first lecture and only one at this period was given at the Society Library in New York, and was upon the Cosmogony of the Uni verse ; it was attended by an eminently-intellectual auditory, and the reading of it occupied about two hours and a half ; it was afterwards published under tho title of Eureka, a Prose ToPoem. tho composition of this work ho brought his subtlest and highest capacities, in their most perfect dovolopmont. Denying that tho arcana of the universe can bo explored- by induction, but informing his imagination with tho various results of science, ho

MEMOIR.

entered with unhesitating boldness, though with no guide but the divinest instinct, into the sea of speculation, and there built up of according laws and their phenomena, as under the influence of a scientific inspiration, his theory of Nature

Poo was thoroughly persuaded that he had discovered the groat secret; that the propositions of Eureka woro true; and ho was wont to talk of the subject with a sublime and electrical enthu siasm which they cannot have forgotten who wero familior'with him at the period of its publication.

In his preface he wrote : "To the few who love me and whom I love ; to those who feel, rather than to thoso who think ; to the dreamers and those who put faith in dreams as in tho only realities

I oiler this book of truths ; not in tho character of truth-toller, but for the beauty that abounds in its truth, constituting it true. To theso I prosent tho composition as an art-produot alone lot us say as a romance ; or, if it be not urging too lofty a claim, as a poem. What I here propound is true ; therefore it cannot die ; or if by any means it be now trodden down so that it dio, it will rise again to the life everlasting."

From this time, Poo did not write much ; he had quarrelled with the conductors of the chief magazines for which he had pre viously written, and they no longer sought his assistance It was at this period that his name was associated with that of one of the most brilliant women of New England, and it was publicly an nounced that thoy were to bo married. He had first seen hor on his way from Boston, whon he visited that city to dclivor a poem before the Lyceum there. Itostless, noar tho midnight, ho wan. dered from his hotel near where she lived, until he saw hor walk ing in a garden. He related the incident afterwards in one of his poems, worthy of himself, of her, and of the moat exalted pasBion :

" I saw thee once once only years Iago; must not Ray how many but not Itmany. was a July midnight ; and from Aout full-orbed moon, that, llko thine own soul, soughtsoaring, a precipitate pathway up through Thereheaven, fell a silvery-silken veil of Withlight, quietude, and sultriness, uml Uponslumber, the upturn'd luces of a Rosesthousuml that grow in an onchantcd Whoregarden, no wind dared to stir, unless on Felltiptoe on tho upturn M faces of these Thatroses gave out, in return for the Theirlove-light. odorous souls In an ecstatic Felldeath on the upturn'd faces of these Thatroses smiled and died in this parterre, Byenchanted thee, and by the poetry of thy "presence. Clad all iii white, upon a violet Ibank saw thee half reclining ; while the Fellmoon on tho upturn'd faces of the Androses, on thine own, upturn'd alas, in sorrow 1

MEMOIR.

" Was it not Fate, that, on this July Wasmidnightit not Fate, (whose name is also ThatSorrow,) hade mc pause before that Togarden-itatc, breathe the incense of those slumbering Noroses? footstep stirred ; the hated world all Saveslept. only thee and me. (Oh, Ileaven I oh, HowGod! my heart beats in coupling those two words Save!) only thee and me. I paused I Andlooked in an instant all things (Ah,disappeared. bear in mind this garden was enchanted The!) pearly lustre of the moon went out The: mossy banks and the meandering Thepaths, happy flowers and the repining Weretrees, seen no more : the very roses' odours Died in the arms of the adoring Allairs all expired save thee save less than Savethou: only the divine light in thine Saveeyes but the soul in thine uplifted Ieyes. saw but them they were the world to Ime. saw but them saw only them for Sawhours only them until the moon went Whatdown. wild heart-bin tor ies seemed to lie Uponenwritten those crystalline, celestial Howspheres! dark a woe I yet how sublime a hope How! silently scrono a sen of prideHow! daring an ambition! yet how Howdeep fathomless u capacity for lovo "1 Hut now, at length, Dear Dion sank from Intosight a western oouoh of Andthunder-cloud; thou, a ghost, amid the entombing Didsttrees glide away. Only thine eyes Theyremained. would not go they never yet have Lightingcone. my lonely pathway home that Theynigiu have not left ine (as my hopes have) Theysine1. follow me they lead me through the Theyyeara are my ministers yet I their Theirslave. office is to illumine and Myenkindle duty, to be saved by their bright Andlight, purified in their electric 'fire, And sanctified in their elyslan Theyfire, fill my soul with beauty (which 1b Andhope}, are far up in heaven the stars I kneel Into the sad, silent watches of my Whilenight; even in the meridian glare of Iday see them still two sweetly Venuses,scintillant unextinguished by the sun I"

XXI

They were not married, and the breaking of the engagement affords a striking illustration of his character. He said to an ac quaintance in New York, who congratulated with him upon the prospect of his union with a person of so much genins and so many virtues " It is a mistake : I am not going to he married." " "Wny, Mr. Poo, I understand that the banns have been pub lished." " I cannot help what you have heard, my dear madam ; but, mark me, I snail not marry hor-" Ho loft town the same evening, and, the next day, was reeling through the streets of the

MEMOIR.

city which was the lady's home, and in the evening that should have heen the evening before the bridal in his drunkenness he committed at her house such outragos as made necessary a sum mons of the police. Hero was no insanity leading to imfulgonco : ho wont from New York with a determination thus to induce on ending of the engagement, and ho succeeded.

Sometime in August, 1849, Mr. Poe left New York for Virginia. In Philadelphia, he encountered persons who had been his asso ciates in dissipations while he lived there ; and for several days he abandoned himself entirely to the control of his worst appe tites. "When his money was all spent, and the disorder of his dross ovincod tho extremity pf his recent intoxication, ho asked, in chanty, moans for tho prosecution of his journey to Richmond. There, after a fow days, he joined a temperance society, and his conduct showed tho earnestness of his determination to reform his life. Ho delivered, in somo of tho principal towns of Virginia, two lectures, which wore well attended ; and, renewing his acquaintance with a lady whom he had known in his youth, he was ongagod to marry her, and wrote to his friends that he should pass the remainder of his days among the scenes endeared by all his pleasantest recollections of youth.

On Thursday, the 4th of October, he set out for New York, to fulfil a literary engagement and to prepare for his marriage. Arriving in Baltimore, he gave his trunk to a porter, with direc tions to convey it to the cars which were to leave in an hour or two for Philadelphia, and went into a tavern to obtain somo re freshment. Here he met acquaintances, who invited him to drink ; all his resolutions and duties were soon forgotten ; in a few hours ho was in such a stato as is commonly induced only by long-con tinued intoxication ; after a night of insanity and exposure, he was carried to a hospital ; and there, on the evening of Sunday, tho seventh of October, 1849, he died, at the age of thirty-oigh years.

It is a melancholy history. No American author of as much genius had over as much unhappiness; but Poo's unhappincss was, in an unusual degree, tho result of infirmities of nature, or of voluntary faults in conduct. A writor, who ovidontly knew him well, and who came forward as his defonder, is " compelled to admit that the blemishes in his life were effects of character rather than of circumstances." How this character might have been modified by a judicious education of all his faculties, is left for the decision of others ; but it will be evident to those who read this biography, that the unchecked freedom of his earlier years was as unwise as its results were unfortunate.

The influence of Mr. Poca aims and vicissitudes upon his writings was moro conspicuous in his later than in his earlier

MEMOIR. xxiii

works. Nearly all that ho wrote in the last two or three years , including much of his best poetry was, in some sense, biogra phical. In draperies of his imagination, those who take the trouble to trace his steps will perceive, but slightly concealed, the figure of himself j and the lineaments here disclosed are not different from those displayed in this biography, which is but a filling up of the picture he has himself sketched.

In person, he was below the middle height, slenderly hut com pactly formed ; and, in his better moments, he had, in an eminent degree, that air of gcntlemanlincss which men of a lower order soldom succoed in acquiring.

His conversation was, at times, almost aupra-mortal in its clo quence. His voice was modulated with astonishing skill, and his largo and variably-expressive eyes looked repose or shot fiery tumult into theirs who listened, while his own face glowed, or was changeless in pallor, as his imagination quickened his blood 01 drew it back frozen to his heart. His imagery was from the worlds which no mortals can see but with the vision of genius. Suddenly starting from a proposition, exactly and sharply defined, in terms of utmost simplicity and elearnoss, ho rcioctod tho forma of customary logic, and, by a crystalline process of accretion, built up his ocular demonstrations in forms of gloomiest and ghastliest grandeur, or in those of the most airy and delicious beauty so minutely and distinctly, yet so rapidly, that the attention which was yielded to him was chained till it stood among his wonderful creations till he himself dissolved the spell, and brought his hearers back to common and base existence, by vulgar fancies or exhibitions of the ignoblest passion.

Ho was at all times a dreamer dwelling in ideal realms in heaven or hell peopled with the creatures and the accidents of his brain. Ho walked the streets in madness or melancholy, with lips moving in indistinct curses, or with eyes upturned in passion ate prayer (never for himself, for he folt, or professed to feel, that he was already damned, but) for their happiness who, at the mo ment, were objects of his idolatry; or, with his glances intro verted to a heart gnawed with anguish, and with a face shrouded in gloom, he would brave the wildest storms ; and all night, with drenched garments and arms beating the winds and rains, would speak as if to spirits that at such times only could bo evoked by him from the Aidenn, close by whose portals his disturbed soul sought to forget the ills to which his constitution subjected him close by tho Aidenn where were those he loved tho Aidenn which ho might never sec, but in fitful glimpses, as its gates opened to receive tho less llcry and more happy natures whoso destiny to sin did not involvo the doom of death.

He seemed, except when some fitful pursuit subjugated his will

XXIV MEMOIR.

and engrossed his faculties, always to bear the memory of some . controllmg sorrow. The remarkable poem of The Raven was pro bably much more nearly than has been supposed, even by those who woro vory intimate with him, a reflection and an ooho of his own history. He was that bird's

" - unhappy master whom unmerciful FollowedDisaster faBt and followed faster till his songs one burden Tillbore the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden Ofbore ' Never never more.' "

His harsh experience had deprived him of all faith, in man or woman. He had mado up his mind upon the numberless com plexities of the social "world, and the whole system, with him, was an imposture. This conviction gave a direction to his shrewd and naturally unamiable character. Still, though he regarded Bociety as composed altogether of villains, the sharpness of his intellect was not of that kind which enabled him to oope with villany, while it continually caused him, by overshbts, to fail of the success of honesty. He was, in many respects, like Francis Vivian, in Bulwer's novel of The Caxtons. Passion, in him, comprehended many of the worst emotions which militate against human happi ness. Tou could not contradict him, but you raised quick choler ; you could not speak of wealth, but his cheek paled with gnawing envy. The astonishing natural advantages of this poor boy his beauty, his readiness, the daring spirit that breathed around him like a fiery atmosphere had raised his constitutional self-confi dence into an arrogance that turned his very claims to admiration into prejudices against him. Irascible, envious bad enough, but not the worst, for theso salient angles wore all varnished over with a cold rcpellant cynicism, his passions vented themselves in'sneers. There seemed to him no moral susceptibility; and, what was more remarkable in a proud nature, little or nothing of the true point of honour. He had, to a morbid excess, that desire to rise which is vulgarly called ambition, but no wish for the ostoem of the love of his species ; only the hard wish to succeed not shine, not serve suocoed, that he might havo the right to despise a world whioh galled his self-ooncoib

what ho ! what ho E this fellow Is dancing Hemad hath been bitten by the Tarantula. AH in the Wrong. Ma.ny years ago, I contracted an intimacywith a Mr. Wil liam Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy ; buta series of misfortunes had re duced him towant. To avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the city of his fore fathers, and took up his resi dence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. 11

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and slime, a favouriteresort ofthe marsh-hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Nearthewesternextremity, where FortMoultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, bythefugitives from Charles ton dust and fever,' may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the sea-coast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized bythe horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impene trable coppice, burthening the air with its fragrance.

" In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or more remote end of the island, Logrand had built himself a small hut,which he oocupicd when I first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance; This soon ripened into friendship for there was much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I foundhim well educated, with unusual powers 'of mind, but tni fectedwith misanthropy, and subjecttoperverse "moods ofalternate enthusiasm andmelancholy. He had with him manybooks, but rarely employedthem. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological specimens? -his collection of the latter might havebeenenviedby'a'Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could be in duced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance upon the

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

$

footsteps of his young " Massa "Will." It is not im probable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhatunsettled in intellect,hadcontrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed, when a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18 , there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks my residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, while the facilities ofpassage and re-passage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon reaohing the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and getting no reply, soughtfor the key where I knew it was Becreted, unlockedthedoor and went in. A fine fire wasblazing, upon the hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling logs, and awaited patiently the arrival ofmy hosts.

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare somo marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits how else shall I term them? of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he hadhunted down andsecured, withJupiter's assistance, a scarabceus whichhe believed to be totallymew, butin respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow.

"And Why not to night?" I asked, rubbing 'my hands over the blaze, and wishing the wholetribe of scarabtri at the devil.

"Ah, if I had only known you were here ! " said Legrand; "but its so long since I saw you ; and how b 2

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met Lieutenant G , from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the beetle ; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation! "

" "What ? sunrise? "

" Nonsense! no! the beetle. It is of a brilliant goldcolour aboutthe size ofa large hickory-nut with twojet-black spots near one extremity ofthe back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The antenna are "

" Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keepatellin on you," here interruptedJupiter ; " de beetle is a goole beetle, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing neber feel halfso hebby a beetle in my life."

" Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, some what more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case de manded, " is that any reason for your letting the birds burn? The colour" here he turned to me "is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit-r-butofthis you cannotjudge till to-morrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea of the .shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink,but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.

" Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer ; " and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While lie did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design was complete, hehanded it to me without rising.. As I received it, a loud <;rowl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my

shoulders, and loaded me with caressses ; for I had shown him much attention during pre vious visits. When his gambols were over, 1 looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little puzzled at what my friend had depicted.

"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, " this is a strange scarabaius, I must con fess : new to me : never saw anything like it before unless it was a scull, or a death's-head which it more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under my observation."

"A death's-head !" echoed Legrand " Oh yes well, it has something of that appearance upon paper,

THE GOLD BEETLE.

no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh ? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth and then the shape ofthe wholo is oval,"

" Perhaps so," said I : "but, Legrand, I fenr you arc no artist. I must wait until I sec the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its personal appearance."

" Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, " I draw tolerably should do it, at least have had good masters, and flatter myselfthat I am not quite a block head."

"But, my dear fellow, you aro jokingthen," said I; this is a very passablo skull indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent skull, according to tho vulgar notions about such specimons of physiology and your .icarabicus must be the queerestscarabaus in the world, ifit resembledit. Why, we mayget up averythrilling bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the beetle scarubceus caput hominit, orsomething of that kind there are many similar titles inthe Natural Histories. But where aro tho antenna you spoke of?"

"The antenna!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably warm upon the subject; " I am sure you must seo tho antenna. I mado them ns dis tinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume that is sufficient."

' "Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have still I don't see them ;" and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper ; but I was much surprised at the turn affairshad taken; his ill-humour puzzled me and, as for the drawing of tho beetle, there were positivelyno antenna visible, and the whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts ofa death's-head.

He receivedthepaperverypeevishly,andwas about to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grow violently red in another as excessivelypale. For someminutes

THE COLD-BEETLE.

7.

he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where ho sat. At length he arose,'took a candlo from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest. in the farthest corner of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of the paper ; turning it in all directions. He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished mq,; yet I thought it pru dent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any comment. Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanour; but. his original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore away, he became more and more absorbed in reverie, fromwhich no sallies ofmine could arouse, him. Jt had been my intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with even more than his usual cordiality.

It was about a month after this (and during the intervalI had seennothing of Legrand)-whenI received a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had novor seen the good old negro look so dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.

" Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now? how is your master ?"

" Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not go berry well as mought be."

" Not well ! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?"

" Dar, dat 's it! him neber plain of notin but him berry sick for all dat."

"Very sick, Jupiter ! why didn't you say so at once? Is he confined to bed?"

» THE GOLD-BEETLE.

" No, dat he aint ! he aint find nowhar dat 'sjust whar de shoe pinch my mind has got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will."

"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails him?"

" Why, massa, taint worfwhile for to git mad about de matter Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him but den what make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down, and he soldiers up, and as white as a gose ? And den he keep a syphon all de time "

" Keeps a what, Jupiter ?"

" Keeps a syphon wid do figgurs on de slate de queerest figgurs I ebber did see. Isc gittin to bo skeered, I tell you. Ilab for to keep mighty tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me sftp fore do sun up, and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. 1 had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come but Isc sieh a fool dat I hadn't de heart artcr all he look so berry poorly."

" Eh? what? ah, yes ! upon the whole I thinkyou had better not bo too severe with the poor fellow don't flog him, Jupiter he can't very well stand it but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasant happened since I saw you?"

" No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant since den- 'twasfore den I'mfeared 'twas do bery day you was dare."

" How? what do you mean ? "

" Why, massa, I mean de beetle dare now."

"The what?"

" De beetle I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin . bit somewhere bout do head by dat goole-beetle."

" And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition."

" Claws enuft", mnssa, and mnnff too. I nebber did

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

see sich adeucedbeetle he kick and he bite eberyting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mightyquick, I tell you den was de lime he must ha got de bite. I didn't like de

look of de beetle mouff, myself, no how, so I would n't take hold ob him wid my finger, but I cotch him wida piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de paper, and stuff piece ob it in he mouff dat was de way."

" And you think, then, that your master was really

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick?"

" I don't tink noffin about it I nose it. What make him dream bout de goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-beetle ? Ise hcerd bout dcin goolebcetles fore dis."

" But how do you know he dreams about gold? "

" How I know ? why cause he talk about it in he sleep dat's how I nose."

Well, Jup, perhaps you arc right ; but to what for tunate circumstanco am I to attribute the honour ofn visit from you to-day? "

"What do matter, massa? "

"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand? "

"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel; " and here Jupiter handed me a note, which ran thus :

My Dear

Why have I not seen you for so long a time ? I hope you have not beon so foolish as to take offence at any little brusquerie of mine; but no, that is im probable.

Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxietyIhave somethingto tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether I should tell it at all.

I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions. Would youbelieve it? he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to chastise mo for giving him the slip, and spending the day, solus, among the hills on the mainland. IYerily believe that myill looks alone saved me a flogging.

I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.

Ifyou can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you to night, upon business of importance. I assure you that it is of the highest importance.

Ever yours, William Leqband.

THE GOLD-BDF.TLK. 11

There was somcthing.in thc tone ofthis nolo which gave mo great uneasiness. Its whole stylo differed materially from that of Lcgrand. What could he he dreaming of ? What newcrotchetpossessedhis excita blebrain? What " business ofthehighestimportance" could lie possibly have to transact ? " Jupiter's account ofhim boded no good, I dreaded lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my friend. Without n moment's hesita tion, therefore, I prepared to accompany the negro.

Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom ofthe boat in which wo were to embark.

"What is the meaning ofall this, Jup?" I inquired.

" Him syfc, massa, and spade."

"Very true ; but what arc they doing here ?"

" Him do syfc and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him in de town, and de debbil's own lot ob money I had to gib for em."

"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa Will' going to do with scythes and spades?"

" Dat's more den I know, and debbil take me if I don't blicve 'tis more dan he know, too. But it's all cum ob do beetle."

Finding that no satisfaction was to bo obtained of Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to bo absorbed. by " de beetle," I now stepped into the boat and madesail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into thelittle cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was aboutthree inthe afternoon when wearrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. Ho grasped my hand with a nervous cmprcsscmcnl, which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I b* 2

12

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

asked him, not knowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabaus from Lieutenant G .

" Oh, yes," he replied, colouring violently, " I got it from him the next morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that scarabaus. Do you know that Jupiter is quite right about it?"

" In what way ?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart.

" In supposing it to be a beetle ofreal gold." He said this with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked.

" This beetle is to make my fortune," he continued, with n triumphant smile, " to reinstate mo in my familypossessions. Is it any wonder,then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I have only to use it properly, and I shall arrive at the gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that scarabee-us."

" What! de beetle, massa? I 'drudder not go fer trubblo dat beetle you mus githim for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabaus, and at that time unknown to naturalists of course a great prize in a scientific point of view. There were two round, black spots near one extremity of the back, and a long one near the other. The scales were exceed ingly hard and glossy, with all the appearance of bur nished gold. The weight of the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things into consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting it; but what to make of Legrand's concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the life ofme, tell.

" I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had completed my examination of the beetle,' I sent for you, that I might have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the beetle "

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

13

"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, " you arc certainly unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over this. You are feverish and "

" Feel my pulse," said he.

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slight est indication of fever.

" But you may be ill and yet haveno fever. Allow me this ouco to prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next"

" Youarc mistaken," he interposed ; " I am as well as I can expect to be under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you will relieve this excitement."

" And how is this to be done? "

"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the hills, upon the main land, and, in this expedition we shall need the aid ofsomeperson in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excite ment which you now perceive in me will be equally allayed."

" I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied ; "but do you mean to say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your expedition into the hills'?"

" It has." X

"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding."

" I am sorry very sorry for we shall have to try it by ourselves."

"Try it by yourselves ! The man is surely mad ! but stay ! how long do you propose to be absent? "

" Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at all events, by sunrise."

" And will you promise me, upon your honour, that when this freak ofyours is over, and the beetle business (good God !) settled to your satisfaction, you will tt-CTs

TIIE GOLD-BEETLE.

return home and follow my advice implicitly, as that of your physician ? "

"Yes ; I promise ; and now let us bo off, for we have no timo to lose."

With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four o'clock Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him thescythe and spades the whole of which he insisted upon carrying more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the implements within reach of his master, than from any excess ofindustry or complaisance. His demeanour was dogged in the extreme,and " dat deuced beetlo" were tho sole words which escaped his lips during thejourney. For my own part, I had charge ofa couple of dark lanterns, while Lcgrand contented him self with the scarabcens, which he carried attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord ; twirling it to and fro, with tho air of a conjuror, as he went. When I observed this last plain evidence of my friend's aberra tion of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought it best, however, to humour his fancy, at least forthepresent,oruntil I couldadoptsomemoreenergetic measures with a chance of success. In the mean time I endeavoured, but all in vain, to sound him in regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in inducing me to accompanyhim, he seemedunwilling to hold conversation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my questions vouchsafed no other reply than " wo shall see ! "

We crossed the creek at tho head of tho island by means of a skiff, and ascending the high grounds on the shore ofthe main land, proceededinanorthwesterly direction through a tract of country excessively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was tobe seen. Legrand ledthe waywithdecision ; pausing only for an instant, here and there, to consult what ap peared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former occasion.

THE COLD-DKETLE.

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a species of table land, near the summit of an almost in accessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie looselyupon the soil, and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselves into the valleys below, merely by the support of the trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an air ofstill sterner solemnity to the scene.

The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrown with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would have been impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceededto clear for usa path to the foot ofanenormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all,and allothertreeswhich I had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread ofits branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance. When'we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little stag gered by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At length ho approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with minuto attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said :

"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebcr sec in he life."

"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon he too dark to see what we are about."

" How far mus go up, massa? " inquired Jupiter.

" Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which wayto go andhere stop ! take this beetle with you."

"De beetle, Massa Will! de goole beetle ! " cried

THE GOI.D-BEliTLK.

the negro, drawing back in dismay " what for mus tote de beetle way up de tree ? d n if I do ! "

" If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this string but, ifyou do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel."

"Whatde matter now, massa ? " saidJup, evidently shamed into compliance ; " always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was only funnin any how. Me feered de beetle ! what I keer for de beetle?" Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and, maintainingthe insect as far from his person as cir cumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the tree.

In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodcndron Tulipiferum, the most magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and often rises to a great height without lateral branches ; but, in its riper age, the bark becomesgnarled and uneven, while many short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, in the present case, lay more in semblance than in l-eality. Embracing the huge cylindor, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and Testing his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one -6r two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himselfinto the first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business as virtually accomplished. The risk ofthe achievement was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some sixty or seventy feet from the ground.

" Which way mus go now, Massa Will? " he asked.

" Keep up the largestbranch the one on this side," said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble ; ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo.

" How much fudder is got for go ? "

. "How high up are you ? " asked Legrand.

" Ebber so fur," replied the negro ; " can sec dc sky fru de top ob de tree."

" Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have you passed? "

" One, two, three, four, fibe I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pou dis side."

" Then go one limb higher."

In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the seventh limb was attained.

" Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much ex cited, " I want you to work your way out upon that limb asfar as you can. Ifyou see anything strange, let me know."

By this time what little doubt I might have en tertained of my poor friend's insanity, was put finally at rest. I had no alternative but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be done, Jupiter's voice was again heard.

" Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far tis dead limb putty much all dc way."

" Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter? " cried Legrand in a quavering voice.

"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail done up for snrtain done departed dis here life."

"What in the name of heaven shall I do?" asked Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress.

" Do !" said I, glad ofan opportunity to interpose a word, "why come homo and go to bed. Come now! that's a fine fellow. It's getting late, and, besides, you remember your promise."

" Jupiter," cried he, without heeding me in the least, " do you hear me ?"

" Yes, Mussa Will, hear you ebber so plain."

le THE GOLD-DEETLE.

" Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see ifyou think it very rotten."

" Him rotten, inassa, suro miff," replied tho negro in a few moments, " but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought venture out lectle way"pon de limb by myself, dat's true."

" By yourself! what do you mean ?"

"Why I mean de beetle. Tis berry hebby beetle. Spose I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won't break widjust de weight ob one nigger."

"You infernalscoundrel!" criedLegrand,apparently much relieved, " what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you drop that beetle I'll break yourneck. Lookhere, Jupiter,do youhearme ?"

"Yes,massa,needn'tholloatpoorniggerdat style."

"Well ! now listen! ifyouwill venture out on the limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I'll make you a present ofa silver dollar as soon as you got down,"

" I'm gwine, Massa Will deed I is," replied the negro very promptly " mos out to the eend now."

" Out to the end!" here fairly screamed Legrand, " doyou say you are out to the end of that limb?"

" Soon be to do end, massa, o-o-o-o-oh ! Lor-gola-marcy ! what is dis here pon de tree ?"

" Well," cried Legrand, highly delighted, '' what is it?"

"Why taint noffin but a skull somebody bin lef him head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off."

" A skull you 3ay ! very well ! how is it fastened to the limb ? what holds it on ?"

" Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry curous sarcumstance, pon my word dare's a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree."

" Well, now, Jupiter, do exactly as I toll you do you hear r"

" Yes, massa."

THE GOLD-BEETLE. 19

" Pay attention, then ! find the left eye of the skull." -

" Hum! hoo ! dat's good! why dare aint no eye lef at all."

" Curse your stupidity ! do you know your right hand from your left?"

" Yes, I nose dat nose all bout dat tis my lef hand what I chops de wood wid."

" To be sure ! you arc left-handed ; and your left eye is on the same side as your 'left hand. Now, I suppose you can find the left eye of the skull, or the.place where the left eye has been. Have you found it?"

Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked :

" Is de lef eye of de skull pon do same side as de lef hand of de skull, too ? cause de skull aint got not a bit ob a hand at all nebber mind ! I got de icf eye now hero de lef eye ! what mus do wid it?"

" Let the beetle drop through it, as far as thestring will reach but be careful and not let go 3rour hold ofthe string."

" All dat done, Massa Will ; mighty easy ting for to put de beetle fru de hole look out for him dare below!"

During this colloquy no portion ofJupiter's person could bo seen; but the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, was now visible at the end of the string, aud glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in the last rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabaus hung quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall,would have Mien at our feet. Logrand immediately took the scythe, and cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go the slr'ng aud come down from the tree.

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now produced from his pocket a tapo-moasure. Fas tening one end of this at that point of the trunk of the tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached the peg, and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction already established by the two points of the ,tree and the peg, for the distance of fifty feet Jupiter clearing away the brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus attained a' second peg was driven, and about this, as a centre, a rude circle, about four feet in dia meter, described. Taking now a spade himself, and giving one to Jupiter and ono to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging as quickly as possible.

To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such amusement at any time, and, at that particular moment, would most willingly have declined it; for the night was coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the exercise already taken ; but I saw no mode of escape, and was fearful of disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. Could I have depended, in deed,uponJupiter's aid, I would have had no hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but I was too well assured of the old negro's disposition, to hope that he would assist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contestwith his master. I made no doubt that the latter had been infectedwith some ofthe innu merable Southern superstitions aboutmoney buried,and that hisphantasyhad received confirmation by the find ing of the scaraOanis, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's obstinac}' in maintaining it to be " a bectlo ofreal gold." A mind disposed to lunacy would readily be led away by such suggestions especially if. chiming in with favourite preconceived ideas and then I called to mind the poor fellow's speech about the beetle's being " the index of his fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, but at length I conchided to make a virtuo of necessity to dig with a good will, and thus the soonor

THE GOLD-BEETLE. 21

to convince the visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinions he entertained.

The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with a zeal worthy a more rational cause; and as the glare fell upon our persons and implements, I could not help thmking how picturesque a group we com posed, and how strange and suspicious our labours must have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled upon our whereabouts.

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said ; and our chiefembarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, who took exceeding interest in our pro ceedings. He at length became so obstreperous that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some strag glers in the vicinity; or, rather, this was the appre hension ofLegrand; formyself, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was at length very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, getting out of the hole with a dogged air of deliberation, tied the brute's mouth up with one of his suspenders, and then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his task.

When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any treasure became manifest. A general pause ensued, and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. Legrand, however, although evidently much discon certed, wiped his brow thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavatedthe entire circle offourfeetdiameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, and went to the farther depth oftwo feet. Still nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sincerely pitied, at length clam bered from the pit, with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his coat, which he had thrown off at the beginning of his labour. In the mean time I made no remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began to gather up his tools. This

done, and tho dog having been unmuzzled,we turned in profound silence towards home.

Wo had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in thir. direction, when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. The astonished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the fullest extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees.

"You scoundrel!" said Legrand, hissing out tho syUablea from between his clenched teeth-" you infernal black villain!-speak, I tell you!-answer me this instant, without prevarication!-which-which is your left eye?"

"Oh, my golly, Massa Will; aint dis )1ero my lcf eye for sartain?" roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand upon his ri9ht organ of vision, and holding it therewith a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of his master's attempt at a gouge.

" I thought so!-I knew it! hun·ah I" vociferated Legrand, letting the negro go, and executing a series of eurvots and caraools, much to tho astonishment of bi, valet,who, arising from his knees, looked mutely from his master to myself, and t11en from myself to his master.

" Come ! we must go back," said the latter ; " the game's not up yet;" and he again led theway to the tulip-tree.

"Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, 'i come here! was the skull nailed to the limbwith the face outwards, orwith the fnco to the limb?"

.

" Do face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good,widout any trouble."

" Well, then,was it this eye or that through which you dropped the beetle?"-here Legrand touched each of Jupiter's eyes.

" 'Twas dis eye, massa-de lef eye-jis as you tell me ;" and here it was his right eye that the negro indicated.

"That will do-we must try it again."

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

S3

Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or fancied that I saw, certain indications of method, removed the peg which marked the spot where the beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the westward of its former position. Taking now the tape-measure from the nearest point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing the extension in a straight line to the distance of fifty feet, a spot was indicated, removed by several yards from the point at which we had been digging.

Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than in the former instance, was now described, and we again set to work with the spades. I was dread fully weary, but, scarcely understanding what had occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no longer any great aversion from the labour imposed. I had become most unaccountably interested nay, even excited. Perhaps there was something amid all the extravagant demeanour of Legrand some air of fore thought, or of deliberation which impressed me. I dug eagerly, and now and then caught myselfaotually looking, with something that very much resembled ex pectation, for the fancied treasure, the vision ofwhich had demented myunfortunate companion. At a period when such vagaries of thought most fully possessed inc, and when wo had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, wo wcro again interrupted by the violent bowlings of the dog. His uneasiness, in the first instnnco had been evidently, but tho result of play fulness or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting to muzzle him, he made furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he had uncovered a mass of human bones, forming two complete skeletons, inter mingled with several buttons of metal, and what ap peared to be the dust ofdecayed woollen. One or two strokes ofa spade ujiturned the blade of a largo Spanish

THE GOLD-IJEE'lLE.

knife, and as we dug farther, three or four loose pieces ofgold and silver coin came to light.

At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be restrained, but tho countenance of his master wore an air ofextreme disappointment, He urged us, how ever, to continue our exertions, and the words were hardlyuttered when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half-buried in the loose earth.

We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten minutes of more intense excitement. During this

26

interval, we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of wood, which, from its perfect preservation and wonderful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some mineralizing process perhaps that of the bi-chloride of mercury. This box was three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and a half feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted, and forming a kind of open trellis-work over the whole. On each side of the chest, near the top, were three rings of iron six in all by means of which a firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost united endeavours served only to disturb the coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impos sibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the* sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we drew back trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of incaleulable valuelay gleaming before us. As the rays of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upwards a glow and a glare, from a confused heap ofgold and-of jewels, that absolutely dazzled our eyes.

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings witbwhich I gazed. Amazement was, ofcourse, predomi nant. Legrand appeared exhausted with excitement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter's countenance wore,, for somo minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in the nature of things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed stupified thunder-stricken. Presently be fell upon his knees in the pit, and burying his naked arms up to the elbows in-gold, let them there remain,' as ifenjoying the luxury of a bath. At length, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as ifin a soliloquy : *'And dis all cum ob de goole-beetle? de putty goole-beetle ! de poor little goole-beetle, what I boosed in dat sabage kind ob style ! Aint you shamed ob yourself, niggerr answer me dat?" i

It became necessary at last that I should arouseboth master and valet to the expediency of removing

M

',!.'JIB OOLD-JIBETLE,

the treasure,.. lt Wn$ growing late, and it behoved us to make exertion,that we might get everything housed before daylight. It wos difficult to say what shoul<l be done, and mqoh timo was spont in dclibcrationeo confused were the ideas of all. We finally lighk ened the.box by removi� two-thirds of its contents, whenwe were enabled, with some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon any pretence, to stir fromtho spot, nor to openhis mouth until our return. We then hurriedly made for home with tho chest; reaching tho hut in safety, but nftor oxcc'4 aive toil, at ono o'clock in tho morning. \Vol'll out ns wo were, it was not in human nature to do rnore immediately. We rested until two, and bad supper; starting for tho hills immediately afterwards, o.rmed with three stout sacks, which by good luck we1·0 upon the premises. A little before four we arrived at the pit, divided the.remainder of the booty as equally ns might be among us, and, leaving tho holes unfilled, again set outior tlie but, at which, for tho 11ccond time, we deposited our golden burtl1ons, just as tho first faint streaks of the dawn.gleamed from over tho t1·ectops in th'e East.

.

We were now thorou�hly broken down ; but the intense excitement of thetunedenied us repose. After an unquiet slumber of somo three or four bours' duration, we arose,os ifbypreconcert,to make examination of our trensure..

The cheat had beon full to the brim, and we spentthe whole day, and tho greater part of the next mght, in a scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like order or arrangement : everything had been heaped in promiscuously. Having usorted all "ith -Oare, we found olir8elves poBSessed of even vaster wealth than we bad at first supposed. In coin there was rntlier more than four hundred and fifty thousand

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

*I dollars estimating the value of the pieces as accu rately as we could by the tables of the period. There was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique date and of great variety French, Spanish, and Ger man money, with a few English guineas, and some counters, ofwhichwe hadnever seen specimens before. There were several very large and heavy coins, so worn that we could make nothing oftheir inscriptions. There was no American money. The value of the jewels we found more difficulty in estimating. There were diamonds some of them exceedingly large and fine a hundred and ten in all, and not one of them small ; eighteen rubies of remarkable brilliancy ; three hundred and ten emeralds, all very beautiful ; and twenty-one sapphires, with an opal. These stones had all been broken from their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings themselves, which wo picked out from among the other gold, appeared to have been beaten up with hammers, as ifto prevent identification. Besides all this, there was a vast quan tity of solid gold ornaments; nearly two hundred massive finger and ear rings ; rich chains thirty of these, if I remember ; eighty-three very large and heavy crucifixes ; five gold censers of great value ; a prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures ; with two sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller articles which I cannot recollect. ' The weight of these valuables exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois ; and in this estimate I have not included one hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches ; three of the number being worth each five hundred dollars, ifone. Many of them were very old, and, as time-keepers, valueless, the works having suf fered, more or less, from corrosion ; but all were richly jewelled, and in cuscs of great worth. We estimated the entire contents ofthe chest, that night,at a million and a half of dollars ; and, upon the subsequent die

U THE GOLD-BEETLE.

posal of the trinkets and jewels (a few being retained for our own use), it was found that we had greatly undervalued the treasure.

When at length wo had concluded our examina tion, and the intense excitement of the time had, in some measure, subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying with impatience for a solution of this most ex traordinary riddle, entered into a full detail of all the circumstances connected with it.

"You remember," said he, " the night when I handed you the rough sketch I had made ofthe scarabceus. You recollect also, that I became quite vexed at youforinsistingthatmydrawingresembled a death'shead. When you first made this assertion, I thought you were jesting ; but afterwards 1 called to mind the peculiar spots on the back of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at mygraphic powers irritated me, for I am considered a good artist, and therefore, when you handed me the scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw it angrily into the fire."

" The scrap of paper, you mean," said I.

" No ; it had much ofthe appearance ofpaper, and it first I supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon it, I discovered it at once to be a piece of very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, you re member. Well, as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, in fact, the figure of a death's-head just where it seemed to me I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew that my design was very different in detail from this, although there was a certain similarity in general outline. Presently I took a candle, and seating myself at the other end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize the parchment more

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

2.1

closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch upon the reverse-just as I had made it. My first idea, now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable simi larity of outline, at the singular coincidence involved in the fact that, unknown to me, there should have been a scull upon the other side of the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of the scarabceus, and that this scull, not only in outline, but in size should so closely resemble my drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidence absolutely stupified me for a time. This is the usual effect of such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish a connection a scqueucc of cause and effect and, being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary paralysis. But, when I reco vered from thisstupor,theredawned uponme gradually a conviction which startled me even far more than the coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remem ber that there had been no drawing upon the parch ment when I made my sketch of the scarabceus. I became perfectly certain of this ; for I recollected turning up first one side and then the other, in search of the cleanest spot. Had the scull been then there, of course I could not have failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to explain ; but, even at that early moment, there seemed to glimmer faintly, within the most remote and secret chambers ofmy intellect, a glow-worm like conception of that truth which last night's adventure brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I arose at once, and putting the parchment securely away, dismissed all farther reflection until I should be alone.

" When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investi gation of the affair. In the first place I considered themanner in which the parchment had come into my possession. Thespot where wediscoveredthe scarabcem was on the coast of the main land, about a mile east ward of the island, and but a shortdistance above high

SO THE GOLD-BEETLE.

water mark. Upon my taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before seizing the insect, which had flown towards him, looked about him for a leaf, or something of that nature, by which to take hold of it. It was at this moment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to he paper. It was lying half buried in the sand, a cornerstickingup. Nearthe spot where we found it, I observed the remnants of the hull of what appeared to have been a ship's long-boat. The wreck seemed to have been there for a very great while ; for tho resemblance to boat timbers could scarcely be traced.

" Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the beetle in it, and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned to go home, and on the waymet Lieutenant Q . I showed him the insect, and he begged me to let him take it to the fort. Upon my consenting, ho thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which it had been wrapped, and which I had continued to hold in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure ofthe prize at once : you know how enthusiastic he is on all subjects connected with Natural History. At the same time, without being conscious of it, I must have deposited the parchment in my own pocket.

" You remember thatwhen I went to the table for tho purpose of malting a sketch of tho beetle, I found no paper where. it was usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and found nonethere. I searchedmypockets, hoping to find an oldletter, when my hand fell upop. the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode in which it came into my possession ; for the circum stances impressed me with peculiar force.

" No doubt you will think me fanciful, but I had already established a kind of connection. I had put

TIIE GOLD-BEETLE.

SI together two lengths of a great chain. There was a boat lying upon a sea-coast, and not far from the boat was a parchment not apaper with a skull depicted upon it. You will, of course, ask * where is the con nection?' I reply that the skull, or death's-head, is the well-known emblem ofthe pirate. Theflag ofthe death's-head is hoisted in all engagements.

" I have saidthat the scrap wasparchment,andnot paper. Parchment is durable almost imperishable. Matters oflittle moment are rarely consigned toparch ment; since, forthe mere ordinarypurposes of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper. This reflection suggested some meaning some rele vancy in the death's-head. I did not fail to observe, also, the form ofthe parchment. Although one of its corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, itcould bo seen that the original form was-oblong. It was just such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosenfor a memorandum for a record of something to be long remembered and carefully preserved."

" But," I interposed, "you say that the skull was not upon the parchment when you made the drawing of the beetle. How then do youtrace any connection. between the boat and the skull, since this latter, ac.cording to your own admission, must have been de signed (Gou onlyknows how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your sketching the ecarabaus f

" Ah,hereuponturns the whole mystery: although the secret, at this point, I had comparatively little difficulty in solving. My steps were sure, and could afford but a single result. I reasoned, for example, thus : when I drew the scarabceus, there was no skull apparent upon the parchment. When I hadcompleted the drawing, I gave it to you, and observed you nar rowly until you returned it. You therefore did not design the skull, and no one else was present to do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And never theless it was done.

. THE GOLD-BEETLE.

" At this stage of my reflections I endeavoured to remember, and did remember, with entire distinctness, every incident which occurred about the period in . question. The weatherwas chilly (oh, rare and happy accident!), and a lire was blazing upon the hearth. ]was heatedwith. exercise and sat near the table. You. however, had drawn a chair close to the chimney. -Just as I placed the parchment in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed him and kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment, was per mitted.to fall listlessly between your knees, and in close proximity to the fire. At one moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you, but. before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its,examination. When I considered all these particulars, I doubted not for a momentthat hem had been the. agent in bringing to light upon the parchment the skull which I saw depicted upon it. You are well aware that chemical preparations existand have '-xisted time out ofmind, by means of which it is possible to write upon either paper or vellum, sc tluit the characters shall become visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaft're, digested in -aqua regia, and diluted with four times its weight of water, is sometimes employed : a green tint results. .The regulus ofcobalt, dissolved in spirit ofnitre, gives a red. These colours disappear at longer or shorten intervals after the material written upon cools, bul again become apparent upon the reapplication ofheat.

I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. It* outer edges the edges ofthe drawing nearesttheedge ofthe vellum were far more distinct than the others. It was clear that the action ofthe cudoric had beenim perfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, and subjected eveiy portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening ol

the fiu.nt lines in the skull ; but, upon persevering in the experiment, there became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite to the spot in which �edeath's-head was delineated, tJ1c figure of what I nt first supposed to be a gont. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it wll8 intended for a kid."

"Ha! ha!" said I, " to be sure I hnvc no 1ight to laugh at you-n million n.nd I\ ho.lf of money is too serious a matter for mirth-but you are about to establish a third link in your chain-you will not find any especial connection between your pirates and a goat-pirates, you know, have nothing to do with goat.a ; they app�rtain to the farming interest."

'.' But I have just said that the figure was not that of a goat."

" Well, a kid, then-prettymuch the same tliing." •� 0

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

" Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. " You may have heard ofone Captain Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the ammal as a kind of pun ning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature, because its position upon the vellUm suggested this idea. The death's-head at the corner diagonally op posite, had, in the same manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put out by the absence of all else of the body tp my imagined instrument of the text for my context."

"I presume yau> expected to find-aletter between the stamp and the signature."

" Something of that kind. Tho fact is, I felt irre sistibly impressed withapresentiment ofsome vastgood fortune impending. JL can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire: than an actual belief. But do you know that Jupiter's, silly words, about the beetle being ofsolid gold, had aremarkable effect upon my fancy? And then the series of accidents and coin cidences these were so very extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it was that these events should have occurred upon the sole day of all the year in which it has been, ormaybe,sufficiently cool forfire, and thatwithout the fire, or withoutthe intervention of the dog at the precise moment inwhich he appeared, I should never have become aware of the death's-head, andso never the possessor ofthe treasure?"

" But proceed I am all impatience."

" Well ; youhave heard, ofcourse, the many stories current thethousandvaguerumoursafloat aboutmonoy buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, by Kidd andhis associates. These rumours must have had some foundation in fact. And that the rumours have existed so long and so continuous, could have resulted, it ap peared to me, only from the circumstance ofthe buried treasure still remaining entombed. Had' Kidd con cealed his plunder for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the rumours would scarcely have reached us in their

35 present unvarying form. You will observe that the stories told arc all about money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate recovered bis money, there the affair would have dropped. It seemed to me that some accident sav the loss ofa momorandum indicating its locality had deprived him of the means of recovering it, and that this accident had become known to his followers, who otherwise might never have heard that treasure had been concealed at all, aud who, busying themselves in vain, because unguided attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and then universal currency to the reports which are now so common. Have you ever heard ofany important trea sure being unearthed along the coast?"

" Never."

"But that Kidd's accumulations were immense, is well known. I took it for granted, therefore, that the earth still held them; and you will scarcely be sur prised when I tell you that I feltahope, nearly amount ing to certainty, that the parchment so strangely found involved a lost record ofthe place of deposit."

" But how did you proceed ?"

" Iheld the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the heat ; but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible that the coating of dirt might have something to do with the failure ; so I carefully rinsed the parch ment by pouring warm water over it, and, upon having done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull down wards, aud put the pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and to my in expressible joy, found it spotted,in several places, with what appeared to be figures arranged in lines Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole wasjust as you see it now."

Here Legraud, having re-heated the parchment, submitted it to my inspection. The following charac c 2

JJ

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

tcrs were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death's-head and the goat: 53JJt305))6*;4826)4J.)4});806*;48t81f60))86;l}(;:J» 8t83(88)5*t;46(;88*96*?;8)*J(;485);5*t2:*J(;4956*2( 5* 4)8^8*;4069285);)6t8)4JJ;l(J9;48081;8:8Jl:48t8 5;4)485t528806*81(}9;48;(88;4(}?34;48)4+;161;:188;J?;

" But," said I, returning him the slip, " I am as much in the dark as ever. Were all thejewels ofGolconda awaiting me upon my solution of this enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to earn them."

" And yet," said Legrand, the solution is by no means so difficult as you might be led to imagine from the first hazy inspection ofthe characters. These cha racters, as any one might readily guess, form a cipher; that is to say, they convey a meaning; but then, from what is known ofKidd, I could not suppose him capa ble of constructing any of the more abstruse crypto graphs. I made up my mind, at once, that this was of a simple species such, however, as would appear, to tho crude intellect of tho sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key."

" And you really solved it?"

" Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten thousand. times greater. Circumstances, and a cer tain bias ofmind, have led me to take interest in such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, re solve. In fact, having once established connected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty ofdeveloping their import.

" In the present case indeed in all cases of secret writing the first question regards the language of the cipher ; for the principles of solution, so far especially as the more simple ciphers are concerned, depend upon, and are varied by the genins of the particular-idiom.

In general, there is no alternative but experiment (directecl by probabilities) of every tongue known to him who attemptsthesolution,until the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now before us, all difficulty was removed by the signature. The pun upon the word 'Kidd' is appreciable in no other language than the English. But for this consideration I should have begun my attempts with the Spanish and French, as the tongues in which n secret of this kind would most naturally hnvc been written by a pirate of tho Spnuish main. As it was, I assumed the cryptogroph to be English.

" You observe thc1·e are no divisions between the words. Had there been divisions, the task would have been comparatively easy. In such case I should have commenced with a collation and analysis of the shorter words, and bad a word of a single letter occurred, as is most likely, a or I, for example,) I should have considered the solution as nBSurcd. But, there being no division,my first step was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as the least frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table, thus : "Ofthe character 8 there are 33. ., , ., 26. " " 4 ., 19. t) ,, 16. ,, • ,, 13. ,, 6 ,, 12. ,, 6 ,, 11. ,, t 1 ,, 8. ,, 0 ., 6. ,, 92 ,, 6, ,, : 3 ,, 4. " ? ,, 3. ,, ,i ,, 2. " -. ,, 1.

"No,v, in English, tbe letter which most frequent. occurs is e. Afterwards, the succession runs thus :

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

a o i d h n r 1 1 uy cfg Imtobkpqxt. E predo minates so remarkably that an individual sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is not the prevail ing character.

Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the groundwork for something more than a mere guess. The general use which may be made of the table is obvious ; but in this particular cipher we shall only very partially require its aid. As our predominant character is 8, we willcommence byassumingit as thee ofthenaturalalphabet. Toverifythesupposition, letns observe ifthe 8 bo seen often in couples for a isdoubled with groat frequency in English in such words, for example, as 'meet,' 'fleet,' 'speed, 'seen,' 'been,' ' agree,' &c. Inthepresent instance, we see itdoubled noless than fivetimes, althoughthecryptographisbrief.

" Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, ofall words in the language, 'the' is most usual; let us see, therefore, whether there are not repetitions of any three charac ters, in the same order of collocation, the last of them being 8. Ifwe discover repetitions of such letters, so arranged, they will most probably represent the word ' the.' Upon inspection, we find no less than seven such arrangements, the characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume that ; represents t, 4 represents A, and 8 represents e the last being now well confirmed. Thus a great step has been taken.

" But, having established a single word, we are enabled to establish a vastly important point; that is to say, several commencements and terminations of other words. Let us refer, for example, to the last instance but one, in which the combinations ;48 occurs not far from the end of the cipher. We knew that the ; im mediately ensuing is the commencement of a word, and ofthe six characters succeeding this ' the,' we are cog nizant ofno less than five. Let us set thesecharacters down, thus, by the letters we know thcm to represent, 'caving a space for the unknown

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

t eeth.

3»

" Here we are enabled at once to discard the ' th,' as forming no portion ofthe word commencing with the first t; since, by experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no word can be formed ofwhich this Ih can be a part. We are thus narrowed into t ee, and, going through the alphabet, ifnecessary, as before, wc arrive at the word ' tree,' as the sole possible read ing. "We thus gain another letter, r, represented by (, with the words 'the tree,' injuxtaposition.

" Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we .again see the combination ;48, and employ it by way oftermination to what immediately precedes. We have thus this arrangement: the tree ;4(J?34 the, or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads thus : the tree thr|?3h the.

" Now, if in place of the unknown characters, we leave blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus : the tree thr. . .h the, when the word ' through' makes itselfevident at once. But this discovery gives us three new letters,o, uand y, represented by J ? and 3.

" Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combinations ofknown characters, wc find, notvery far from the beginning, this arrangement: 83(88, or egree, which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word ' degree,' and gives us another letter, d, represented by f. " Fourlettersbeyond the word ' degree,' weperceive the combination

;4G(;88.

" Translating the known characters, and represent ingthe unknown by a dot, as before, we read thus: thr.tee,

40 THE GOLD-BEETLE.

tin arrangement immediately suggestively of the word thirteen,' and again furnishing us with two new chaactcrs, i and n, represented by 0 and *.

"Rcferringnow to the beginningof the cryptograph, jre find the combination,

" Translating, as before, we obtain good, which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first two words are ' A good.'

" It is now time that we arrange our key, as far as discovered, in a tabular form, to avoid confusion. It will stand thus : 5 represents a

" We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most important letters represented,anditwill beunnecessary to proceed with the details of the solution. I have said enough to convince you that ciphers ofthis nature are readily soluble, and to give you some insight into the rationale of their development. But be assured that the specimen before us appertains to the very simplest species of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you the full translation of the characters upon the parchment, as unriddled. Here it is :

" ' A good glass inthebishop's hostelin the devil's seal forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by northmain branch seventh limb east side shootfrom the left eye of the death's-head a bee linefrom the tree tli the sho

t d 8 ») e 3 »» g4 y' h 0 »i i nt I) 0 ( »t r»i through the shotfifty feet out.'

THE GOLD BEETLE.

"But,"midI,"theenigma seems still in as bad a condi tion as ever. How is it possi ble to extort a meaning from all this jargon about devil's seats,' ' death's-heads," and 'bishop's hotels?'"

" I confess," replied Lcgrand," that the matter still wears a serious aspect, when regardedwith acasualglance. My first endeavour was to dividethe sentence into the natural division intended by the cryptographist."

" You mean, to punctuate it?"

" Somethingofthatkind."

" But how was it possible to effect this ? "

THE GOLD-BEETLE

" Ireflected thatit had been apointwith the writer to run his words together without division, so as to in creasethe difficulty ofsolution. Now, a not over-acute man,- in pursuing such an object, would be nearly cer tain to overdo the matter. When, in the course of his composition, he arrived at a break in his subject which would naturally require a pause, or a point, ho would be exceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more than usually close together. Ifyou will observe the MS., in the present instance, you will easily detect five such casesof unusual crowding. Acting upon this hint, I made the division thus :

" ' A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seal forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye ofthe death's-head a bee-linefrom the tree through the shotfiftyfeet out."'

" Even this division," said I, "leaves mc still in the dark."

" It left me also1in the dark," repliedLegrand, " for a few days;. during which I made diligent inquiry in the neighbourhood of Sullivan's Island, for anybuilding whichwent bytuffname of the ' Bishop's Hotel ;' for, ofcourse;.I dropped the obsolete word ' hostel.' Gain ing no informationon the subject, I was on the point ofextending my sphere-ofsearch, and' proceeding in n -more systematicmanner;-when one morningit entered into myhead quite suddenly, thatthis 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some reference to am old'family ofthe uame of Bessop, which; time out ofmind',had held possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles to the northward! of the' islandl I accordingly went over to the- plantation;, and re-instituted: my inquiries' among the-older negroes-of the place-. At length- one of the most aged of the-women saidthatshe hud heardofsuch a place as Bessop's Castle,-and thought that she could guide me to it, butthatit was not acastle,nor atavern, but a high rock."

THE GOLU-liKETLB. «

" I offered to pay her well for her trouble ; and, after some demur, she consented to accompany mc to the spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. The 'castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs and rocks one ofthe latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for its insulated and artificial ap pearance. I clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what should be next done.

" While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff, just above it, gave it a rude resemblance to one ofthe hollow-backed chairs used by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the ' devil's seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret of the riddle.

"The ' good glass,' I knew, could have reference to nothing but a telescope ; for the word ' glass' is rarely employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite point of view, admitting no variation, from which to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases,' forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,' and l northcast and by north,' were1 intended as directions for the levelling of the glass; Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, arid returned to the rock.

" I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was impossible to retain a seat upon it except in one particular position. This fact confirmed my precon ceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of course, the ' forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude to nothing but elevation above the visible hori zon, since the horizontal direction was clearly indicated by the words, ' northeast and by north.' This latter c*2

THE GOLD-BEETLE.

direction Iat once established by means of a pocketcompass; then, pointing the glass as nearly at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, until my attention was arrested by a circular rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not at first distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to bea human skull.

" Uponthis discovery I was so sanguine as to con sider the enigma solved ; for the phrase ' main branch, seventh limb, cast sido,' could refer onlyto the position of the skull upon the tree, while ' shoot from the left eye of the death's-head' admitted also of but one interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye ofthe skull, andthata bee-line,

TUB GOLD-BEETLE. 45 or, in other words, a straight line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk through ' the shot,' (or the spot where the bullet fell,) and thence extended to a distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point and beneath this point I.thought itat leastpossible that a deposit ofvalue lay concealed."

" All this," I said, " is exceedingly clear, and, although ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the Bishop's Hotel, what then ?"

" Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, I turned homewards. The instant that I left 'the devil's seat,' however, the circular rift vanished ; nor could I get a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment has con vinced me it is a fact) that the circular opening in question is visible from no other attainable point of view than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon the face ofthe rock.

" In this expedition to the ' Bishop's Hotel' I had been attended by Jupiter, who had,no doubt, observed, for some weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanour, and took especial care not to leave me alone. But on the nextday, getting up very early, I contrived to give him the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree. After much toil, I found it. When I came home at night my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With the restofthe adventureI believe you are as well acquainted as myself."

" I suppose," said I, " you missed the spot, in the first attempt at digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting the beetle fall through the- right instead of through the left eye ofthe skull."

" Precisely. Thismistakemade adifferenceof about two inches and a half in the ' shot' that is to say, in the position of the peg nearest the tree ; and had thetreasure been beneath the shot,' the error would have been of little moment; but ' the shot,' together with

THE GOLD-BEKTLE.

the nearest point of the tree, were merely two points for the establishment of a line of directiou ; of eourse the error, howover trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded with tho lino, and by the timo wo had gone fifty feet, threw us quite off the scent. But for my deep-seated impressions that treasure was here somewhero actually buried, we might have had all our labour in vain."

" But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swingmg tho beetle how excessively odd ! I was suro you were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall the beetle, instead of a bullet, from the skull?"

" Why, to be frank,Ifeltsomewhatannoyedbyyour evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from the tree. An observation of yours about its great weight sug gested tho latter idea."

" Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which puzzles me. What are we to make of the skeletons found in the hole ?"

" That is a question I am no more able to answer than yourself. There seems, however,onlyoneplausible way of accounting for them and yet it is dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It is clear that Kidd- if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, which I doubt not it is clear that he must have had assistance in tho labour. But this labour concluded, ho mayhave thought itexpedient to remove all participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock were sufficient, while his coad jutors were busy in the pit; perhaps itrequired a dozen who shall tell?"

Hurtling efferte nf Staram

nu it foijtng man.

F course I shall not pretend to consider it any matter for won der, that the extraordinary case of M. Valdemar has excited discussion. Itwould have been a miracle had it not especially under the circumstances. Through the desire of all parties ooncerned to keep the affair from the public, at least for the present, or until we had further opportunities for investigation through our endeavours to effect this a garbled or exaggerated account made its way into society, and became tha source of many unpleasant misrepresentations ; and, very naturally, ofa great deal ofdisbelief.

It is now rendered necessary thatI give thefads as far as I comprehend them myself. They are, suc cinctly, these :

My attention, for tho Inst three years, had been repeatodly drawn to tho eubjoot of mesmerism ; and, about nine months ago, it occurred to me, quite sud denly, that in the sorics of experiments made hitherto, there hnd been a veryremarkable and most unaccount able omission: no person had as yet been mesmerized in articulo mortis. Itremainedtobe seen,first, whether, in such condition, there existed in the patient any sus ceptibilityto the magneticinfluence; secondly, whether, ifany existed, it was impaired orincreased by the con dition; thirdly, to what extent, orforhow longaperiod, the encroachments of death might be arrested by the

STARTLING EFFECTS OF MESMERISM

process. There were other points to be ascertained, but these most excited my curiosity the last espe cially, from the immensely important character of its consequences.

In looking around me for some subject by whose means I might test these particulars, I was brought to think of my friend, M. Ernest Valdemar, the wellknown compiler of the " Bibliotheca Forensica," and author (under the nom de plume of Issachar Marx) of the Polishversions of"Wallenstein" and "Gargantua!" M. Valdemar, who has resided principally at Harlem, N. Y., since the year 1839, is (or was) particularly noticeable for the extreme spareness ofhis person his lower limbs much resembling those of John Randolph; and also for the whiteness of his whiskers, in violent contrast to the blackness ofhis hair thejatter,in con sequence, being very generally mistaken for a wig. His temperament was markedly nervous, and rendered him a good subject for mesmeric experiment. On two or three occasions I had put him to sleep with little difficulty, but was disappointed in other results, which his peculiar constitution had naturally led mo to an ticipate. His will was at no period positively, or thoroughly, under my control, and in regard to clair voyance, I could accomplish with him nothing to be relied upon. I always attributed my failure at these points to the disordered state of his health. For some months previous to my becoming acquainted with him, his physicians had declaredhim ina confirmed phthisis. It was his custom, indeed, to speak calmly of his ap proaching dissolution, as of a matter neither to be avoided nor regretted.

When the ideas to which I have alluded first oc curred to me, it was of course very natural that I should think ofM. Valdemar. I knew the steady phi losophy of the man too well to apprehend any scruples from him ; and he had no relatives in America who would be likely to interfere. I spoke to him frankly

ON A DYING MAN.

49

upon the subject ; and, to my surprise, his interest seemed vividly excited. I say to my surprise; for, although he had always yielded his person freely to my experiments, he had never before given me any tokens ofsympathy with what I did. His disease was ofthat character which would admit of exact calculation in respect to the epoch ofits termination in death ; and it was finally arranged between us that he wouldsend for me about twenty-four hours before the period an nounced by his physicians as that ofhis decease.

It is now rather more than seven months since I re ceived, from M. Valdemar himself, the subjoined note :

" My deak P , " You may as well come now. D and F arc agreed that I cannot hold out beyond to-morrow midnight; ana I think they have hit the time very nearly. " Valdemar."

I received this note within halfan hour after it was written, and in fifteenminutes more I was in the dying man's chamber. I had not seen him for ten days, and was appalled by the fearful alteration which the brief interval had wrought in him. His face wore a leaden hue ; the eyes were utterly lustreless ; and the emacia tion was so extreme, that the skin had been broken through by the cheek-bones. His expectoration was excessive. The pulse was barely perceptible, He re tained, nevertheless, in a very remarkable manner, both his mental power and a certain degreo of physical strength. He spoke with distinctness --took some pal liative medicines without aid and, when I entered the room, was occupied in pencilling memoranda in a pocket-book. He waspropped up inthe bedbypillows. Doctors D and F were in attendance.

After pressing Valdemar's hand, I took these gen tlemen aside, and obtained from them a minute account of the patient's condition. The left lung had been for eighteen months in a semi-osseous or cartilaginous

STARTLING EFFECTS OF MESMERISM

state, and was, of course, entirely useless for all pur poses ofvitality. The right, in its upper portion, was also partially, if not thoroughly, ossified, while the lower region was merely a mass of purulent tubercles, running one into another. Several extensive perfo rations existed ; and, at one point, permanent adhesion to the ribs had taken place. These appearances in the right lobe were ofcomparativelyreoent date. Theossi fication had proceeded with very unusual rapidity no sign of it had boon discovered a month before, and tho adhesion had only been observed during the three pre vious days. Independently ofthe phthisis, the patient was suspected of aneurism of the aorta ; but on this point the osseous symptoms rendered an exact diagnosis impossible. It was the opinion ofboth physicians that M. Valdemar would die about midnightton the morrow (Sunday). It was then seven o'clock on Saturday evening.

On quitting the invalid's bed-side to hold conver sation with myself, Doctors D and F had bidden him a final farewell. It had not been their in tention to return ; but, at my request, they agreed to look in upon the patient about ten the next night.

When they had gone, I spoke freely with M. Val demar on the subject of his approaching dissolution, as well as, more particularly, ofthe experiment proposed. He still professed himselfquite willing and evenanxious to have it made, and urged me to commence it at onoe. A male and a female nurse were in attendance ; but I did not feel myself altogether at liberty to engage in a task of this character with no more reliablo witnesses than these people, in case of sudden accident, might prove. I therefore postponed operations until about eight the next night, when the arrival of a medical student, with whom I had some acquaintance, (Mr. Theodore L l,) relieved me from further embarrass ment. It had been my design, originally, to wait for the physicians ; but I was induced to proceed, first, by

ON A DYING MAX.

M the urgent entreaties of M. Valdemar, and secondly, by my conviction that I had not a moment to lose, as he was evidently sinking fast.

Mr. L 1 was so kind as to accede to my desire that he would take notes ofall that occurred ; and it is from his memoranda that what I now have to relate is, for the most part, either condensed or copied verbatim.

It wanted about five minutes to eight when, taking the patient's hand, I begged him to state, as distinctly as he could, to Mr. L 1, whether he (M. Valdemar) was entirely willing that I should make the experiment ofmesmerizing him in his then condition.

He replied feebly, yet quite audibly, "Yea, I wish tobe mesmerized" adding immediately afterwards, " I fear you have deferred it too long."

While he spoke thus, I commencedthe passes which I had already Tonnd most effectual in subduing him. Mo was evidently influenced with the first lateral stroke ofmy hand across his forehead; but although I exerted all my powers, no farther perceptible effect was in duced until some minutes after ten o'clock, when Doc tors D and F called, according to appointment.

I explained to them, in a few words, what I designed, and as they opposed no objection, saying that the pa tient was already in the death agony, I proceeded without hesitation exchanging, however, the lateral passes for downward ones, and directing my gaze entirely into the right eye ofthe sufferer.

By this time his pulse was imperceptible and his breathing was stertorious, and at intervals of half a minute.

This condition was nearly unaltered for a quarter of of an hour. At the expiration ofthis period, however,. a natural, although a very deep sigh, escaped thebosom ofthe dying man, and the stertorious breathing ceased that is to say, its stcrtoriousness was no longer ap parent the intervals wereundiminished. The patient's extremities were ofan icy coldness.

STARTLING EFFECTS OF MESMERISM

At five minutes before eleven, I perceived unequi vocal signs ofthe mesmeric influence. The glassy roll of the eye was changed for that expression ofuneasy inwardexamination which is never seen except in cases of sleep-waking, and which it is quite impossible to mistake. With a few rapid lateral passes I made the lids quiver, as in incipient sleep, and with a few more I closed them altogether. I was not satisfied, however, with this, but continued the manipulations vigorously, and with the fullest exertion of the will, until I had completely stiffened the limbs of the slumberer, after placing them in a seemingly easy position. The legs were at full length ; the aims were nearly so, and reposed on the bed at a moderate distance from the loins. The head was very slightly elevated.

When I had accomplished this, it was fully mid night, and I requestedthegentlemenpresentto examine M. Valdemar's condition. After a few experiments, they admitted him to be in an unusually perfect state of mesmeric trance. The curiosity of both the phy sicians was greatly excited. Dr. D resolved at once to remain with the patient all night, while Dr. F took leave with a promise toreturn at daybreak. Mr. L l and the nurses remained. We left M. Valdemar entirely undisturbed until about three o'clock in the morning, when I approached him and found him in precisely the same condition as when Dr. F went away that is to say, ho lay in the same position ; tho pulse was imperceptible ; the breathingwasgentlo (scarcely notiocablo.unlessthrough the application of a mirror to the lips) ; the eyes were closed naturally ; and the limbs were as rigid and as cold as marble. Still, the general appearance was cer tainly not that ofdeath.

As I approachedM. Valdemar, I made akind ofhalf effort to influence his right arm into pursuit of my own, as I passed the latter gently to and fro above his person. In such experiments with this patient, I had

ON A DYING MAN.

S3 never' perfectly succeeded before, and assuredly I had little thought of succeeding now; but to my astonish ment, his arm very readily, although feebly, followed every direction I assigned it with mine. I determined to hazard a few words ofconversation.

" M. Valdemar," I said, " are you asleep ?" He made no answer, but I perceived a tremour about the lips, and was thus induced to repeat the question again and again. At its third repetition, his whole frame was agitated by a very slight shivering ; tho eye-lids unclosed themselves so far as to display a white line of a ball ; the lips moved sluggishly, and from between them, in a barely audible whisper, issued the words: " Yes; asleep now. Do not wake me! let me die so !"

I here felt the limbs and found them as rigid as ever. The right arm, as before, obeyed the direction of my hand. I questioned the sleep-waker again: " Do you stillfeelpaininthebreast, M. Valdemar?"

The answer now was immediate, but even less audible than before :

" No pain I am dying."

I did not think it advisable to disturb him farther just then, and nothing more was said or done until the arrival of Dr. F , who came a little before sunrise, and expressed unbounded astonishment at finding the patient still alive. After feeling the pulse andapplying a mirror to the lips, he requested me to speak to the sleep-waker again. I did so, saying :

" M. Valdemar, do you still sleep?"

As before, some minutes elapsed ere a reply was made ; and during the interval the dying man seemed to be collecting his energies to speak. At my fourth repetition of the question, he said, very faintly, almost inaudibly :

" Yes ; still asleep dying."

It was now the opinion, or rather the wish, of the physicians, that M. Valdemar should be suffered to

STARTLING EFFECTS OF MESMERISM

remain undisturbed in his present apparently tranquil condition, until death should supervene and this, it was generally agreed, must now take place within a few minutes. I concluded, however, to speak to him once more, and merely repeated my previous question.

While I spoke,there came a marked change overthe countenance ofthe sleep-waker. The eyes rolledthem selves slowly open, the pupils disappearing upwardly; the skin generally assumed a cadaverous hue, resem bling not so much parchment as white paper ; and the circular hectic spots, which hitherto had been strongly defined in the centre of each cheek, went out at once. I use this expression, because the suddenness of their departure put me in mind of nothing so much as the extinpsiishment of a candleby apuffofthe breath'. The upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away from the teethe which it had previously covered completely ; while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk, leaving the mouth widely extended, and disclosing in full view the swollen and blackened tongue. I presume that no member of the party then present had been unaccus tomed to death-bed horrors ; but so hideous beyond conception was tho appearanoo of M. Valdemar at this moment, that there was a general shrinking back from the region ofthe bed.

I nowfeel thatI have reachedapoint ofthis narra tive at which everyreader will be startled into positive disbelief. It is my business,however,simply to proceed.

There was no longer the faintest sign of vitality in M. Valdemar ; and, concluding him to bo dead, wc were consigning him to the charge ofthe nurses, when a strongvibratorymotion was observable in the tongue. This continued for perhaps a minute. At the expi ration of this period, there issued from the distended and motionlessjaws a voice such as it would be mad ness in me to attempt describing. There are, indeed, two or three epithets which might be considered as applicable to it in part; I might say, for example, that

ON A DYING MAN.

53

the sound was harsh, and broken, and hollow ; but the hideous whole is indescribable, i'or the simple reason that no similar sounds have everjarred upon the ear of humanity. There were two particulars, nevertheless, which I thought then, and still think, might fairly be stated as characteristic of the intonation as well adapted to convey some idea of its uneurthly pecu liarity. In the first place, the voice seemed to reach our cars at least mine from a vast distance, or from some deep cavern within the earth. In the second place it impressed me (I fear, indeed, that it will be impossible to make myself comprehended)as gelatinous or glutinous matters impress the sense oftouch.

I have spoken both of " sound" and of " voice." I mean to say that the sound was one of distinct ofeven wonderfully, thrillingly distinct syllibification. M. Valdemar spoke obviously in reply to the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had asked. him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said :

" Yes ; no; I have been sleeping andnow now /am dead."

No person present even effected to deny, or at tempted to repress, the unutterable, shuddering horror which these few words, thus uttered, were so well cal culated to convey. Mr. L 1 (the student), swooned. The nursesimmediately left the chamber, and could not be induced to return. My own impressions I would not pretendtorenderintelligible to the reader. For nearly an hour, we busied ourselves, silently withoutthe ut terance ofa word in endeavoursto revive Mr. L 1. When he cameto himself, we addressed ourselves again to an investigation of M. Valdemar's condition.

It remained in all respects as I have last described it, with the exception that the mirror no longerafforded evidence of respiration. An attempt to draw blood from the arm failed. I should mention, too, that this limb was no farther subject to my will. I endeavoured

5S STARTLING EFFECTS OF MESMERISM

in vain to make it follow the direction of my hand. The only real indication, indeed, of the mesmeric influence, was now found in the vibratory movement of the tongue, whenever I addressed M. Valdemar a question. He seemed to be making an effort to reply, but had no longer sufficient volition. To queries put to him by any other person than myself he seemed utterly insensible although I endeavoured to place each member ofthe companyin mesmeric rapport with him. I believe that I have now related all that is necessary to an understanding of the sleep-waker's state at this epoch. Other nurses were procured; and at ten o'olockI leftthe house, in company with the two physicians and Mr. L 1. :-tV*In. the afternoon we all called again to see the patient, His condition remained precisely the same. We had now some discussion as to the propriety and feasibility of awakening him; but we had little diffi culty in agreeing thatno goodpurpose would be served by so doing. It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually termed death) had been arrested bythe mesmeric process. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Valdemar would be merely to insure his instant, or at least his speedy dissolution.

. From this period until the close of last week an interval of nearly seven months we continued to make daily calls at M. Valdemar's house, accompanied, now and then, by medical and other friends. All this time the sleep-waker remained exactly as I have last de scribed him. The nurses' attentions were continual.

It was on Friday last that we finally resolved to make the experiment of awakening, or attempting to awaken, him ; and itis the (perhaps) unfortunateresult of this latter experiment which has given rise to so much discussion in private circles to so much ofwhat I cannot help thinking unwarranted popular feeling.

For the purpose ofrelieving M. Valdemar from the mesmeric trance, I made use of the customary passes.

ON A DYING MAN.

51

These, for a time, were unsuccessful. The first indi cation of revival was afforded by a partial descent of the iris. It was observed, as especially remarkable, that this lowering ofthe pupil was accompanied by the profuse out-flowing of a yellowish ichor (from beneath the lids) ofa pungent and highly offensive odour.

It was now suggested that I should attempt to in fluence the patient's arm, as heretofore. I made the attempt,andfailed. Dr. F then intimated a desire to have me put a question. I did so, as follows :

" M. Valdemar, can you explain to us what are your feelings or wishes now ?"

There was an instant return of the hectic circles on the cheeks ; the tongue quivered, or rather rolled violently in the mouth (although thejaws and lips re mainedrigidasbefore) ; and.at length the same hideous voice which I have already described, broke forth :

" For God's sake! quick ! quick ! put me to sleep or, quick! waken me! quick! I say to you that I am dead!"

I was thoroughly unnerved, and for an instant re mained undecided what to do. At first I made an endeavour to re-compose the patient; but, failing in this through total abeyance of the will, I retraced my steps and as earnestly struggled to awaken him. In this attemptI soon saw that I should be successful or at least I soon fancied that my success would be com plete and I amsure thatall in the room were prepared to sec the patient awaken.

For what really occurred, however,itis quite impos sible that any human being could have been prepared.

As I rapidlymade the mesmeric passes, amid ejaculatious of "dead ! dead !" absolutely bursting from the tongue and not from the lips of the sufferer, his whole frame at once within the space ofa single minute, or even less, shrunk crumbled absolutely rotted away beneath my hands. Upon the bed, beforo the whole company, there lay a mass of loathsome putrescence !

i itllrtnt intn tbt mnt11Jtrnm.

"The-r.ofOodInNature,uIDProvidence,arcnotuo•r-ra;nor arethemode•thatwelnlDleanywaycommenaurntetotheY111tneoa,11rof1111dltr,andunlC'aruhablen,...ofJllaworka,tolliollA•N•dlplAittIlle.. ,r,at,rIA1111tlle••IIo/lldmoorll11,,"-Joa•ruGL4NTILI.L

Ehadnow reachedth4i'summit ofthe loftiest crag. For some minutes the oldmanseemedtoomuchexhaustedto speak.

"Notlongogo,"soidhe,at length,n.o({.A◄;_''fl":��r; u,,. ,• "andI couldhaveguidedyou on thi11 r.:c..-,v""'"''-"�• route as well as the youngest ofmy sons; but,aboutthreeyea.rspa.st,there, happened tomenneventsuchl\!lneverhappenedbeforeto mortal mnn-oratlea.st suchnsno man over survived totell of-andthesixhoursofdeadly terror which I then endured have broken meupbodyand soul. Yousupposemoav,ryoldman-butI amnot. It took less than a singleday to change thesehairs from ajettyblack to white,toweakenmylimbs,and tounstring my nerves,sothatI tremble nttho least exertion, and nm frightened nt a shadow. Do you know Ican scarcelylook overthis littlecliff'without gettinggiddy?"

The"littlecliff',"uponwhoseedgehehadsocarelessl1thrownhimselfdowntorestthatthe weightier portionof.his bodyhungover it, while he wasonly keptfromfallingbythetenureofhiselbow onitsextreme an<l slippery edge-this "littlecliff'" arose,a aheer unobstructed precipice of black shining rock,

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 59

some fifteen or sixteen hundred feet from the world of crags beneath us. Nothing would have temptqd me to within half a dozen yards of its brink. In truth, so deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my companion, that I fell at full length upon the ground, clung to the shrubs around me, and dared not even glance upward at the sky; while I struggled in vain to divest myself of the idea that the very foundations of the mountain were in danger from the fury of the winds. It was long before I could reason myself into sufliclent courage to sit up and look out into the 'dis tance.

" You must get over these fancies," said the guide, " for I have broughtyou here that you might have the best possible view of the scene of that event I men tioned and to tell you the whole story with the spot just under your eye.

"Wcarc now," he continued, in thatparticularizing manner which distinguished him " we arc now close upon the Norwegian coast in the sixty-eighth degree oflatitude in the great province ofNordland and in the dreary district of Lofoden. The mountain upon whose top we sit isHelseggen the Cloudy. Now raise yourselfup a little higher hold on to the grass if you, feel giddy so and look out,beyond the belt ofvapour bcnculh us, into the sea."

I looked dizzily, and beheld a wide expanse of ocean, whose waters wore so inky a hue as to bring at once to my mind the Nubian geographer's account of the Mare Tenebrarum a panorama more deplorably desolate, no human imagination can conceive. To the right and left, as far as the eye could reach, there lay outstretched, like ramparts of the world, lines of hor ridly black and beetling cliff, whose character of gloom was but the more forcibly illustrated by the serfwhich reared high up against it its white and ghastly crest, howling and shrieking for ever. Just opposite tho promontoryupon whose apex we were placed, and at a

GO A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM.

distance ofsome five or six miles out at sea, there was visiblo a small,bleak-looking island; or, more properly, its position was discernible through the wilderness of surge in which it was enveloped. About two miles nearer the land, aroseanother ofsmaller size, hideously craggy and barren, and encompassed at various in tervals by a cluster ofdark rocks.

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distant island and the shore, had something very unusual about it. Although, at tho time, so strong a gale was blowing landward that a brig in the remote offing lay-to under a double-reefed trysail, and constantly plunged her wholo hull out of sight, still there was hero nothing like a regular swell, but only a short, quick, angry, cross dashing of water in every direction aswell inthe teeth ofthewindas otherwise. Offoamtherewas little exceptinthe immediatevicinity ofthe rocks.

"The island in the distance," resumed the old man, is called, by the Norwegians, Vurrgh. The one midway is Moskoe. Thata mile to the northwardisAmbaarcu. Yonder are Islesen, Hotholm, Keildhelm, Suarven, and Buckholm, Fartheroff between Moskoe and Vurrgh are Otterholm, Flimen, Sandflesen, and Stockholm. These are the true names of the places ; but why it has been thought necessary to name them at all, is more than either you or I can understand. Do you hear any thing? Doyou sec any change in the water?"

We had now been about ten minutes upon tho top of Ilelscggen, to which wo had ascended from tho in terior of Lofoden, so that we had caught no glimpse of the sea until it had burst upon us from the summit. As the old man spoke, I became aware of a loud and gradually increasing sound, like the moaning of a vast herd ofbuffaloes upon an American prairie; and at the same moment I perceived that what seamen term the chopping character ofthe ocean beneath us, was rapidly changing into a current, which set to the eastward.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTllOM. 61 I

Even while I gazed, this current acquired a monstrous velocity. Each moment added to its speed to its headlong impetuosity. In five minutes the whole sea, as far as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury ; but it was between Moskoe and the coast thatthe main uproar held itssway. Here the vast bed ofthe waters seamedandscanedinto athousand conflicting channels burst suddenly into phrensied convulsion heaving,' boiling, hissing gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vortices, and all whirling and plunging on to the east ward with a rapidity which water never elsewhere as sumes, except in precipitous descents.

In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radical alteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth,and the whirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while prodigious streaks of foam became apparent where none had been seen before. These streaks, at length spreading out to a great distance, and entering into combination, took unto themselves the gyratory motion of the subsided vortices, and seemed to form the germ of another more vast. Suddenly 1 very suddenly this assumed a distinct and definite existence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray ; but no particle ofthis slipped into tho mouth of tho terrific funnel, whoso interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds an appalling voice half shriek, half roar such as not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to heaven.

The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I threw myself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess ofnervous agitation.

" This," said I, at length, to theoldman "this can

>

A DESCENT INTO THE MAEL8TROM.

be nothing else than the great whirlpool of the Mael strom."

" So it is sometimes termed," said he ; " we Norwe gians call it the Moskoc-strom, from the island ofMos koe in the midway."

The ordinary accounts of this vortex had by no means prepared me for what I saw. That of Jonas Ramus, which is perhaps the most circumstantial of any, cannot impart the faintestconception cither ofthe magnificence, or ofthe horror of the scene or of the wild bewildering sense of the novel which confounds the beholder. I am not suro from what point of view the writer in question survoyod it, nor at what time ; butit could neitherhave been from the summit of llolseggen nor during a storm. There are some passages ofhis description, nevertheless, which may be quoted for their details, although their effect is exceedingly feeble in conveying an impression ofthe spectacle.

" Between Lofoden and Moskoe," he says, " the depth of the water is between thhty-six and forty fathoms ; butontheotherside,towardVer(Vurrgh),this depth decreases so as nottoafford a convenient passage for a vessel without the risk of splitting on the rocks, which happens even in the calmest weather. "When it is flood, the stream runs up the country between Lofoden and Moskoe with a boisterous rapidity; but the roar of its impetuous ebb to the sea is scarce equalled by the loudest and most dreadful cataracts, the noise being heard several leagues off; and the vor tices or pits arc ofsuch an extent and depth, that if a ship eomes withinits attraction,it is inevitablyabsorbed and carrieddowntothe bottom, and there beat to pieces against the rocks ; and when the water relaxes, the fragments thereof are thrown up again. But these in tervals of tranquillity are only at the turn of the ebb and flood, and in calm weather, and last but a quarter of an hour, its violence gradually returning. When the stream ismost boisterous, and its fury heightened

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM. 63

by a storm, it is dangerous to come within a Norway mile ofit. Boats, yachts, and ships have been carried away by not guarding against it before they were within its reach. It likewise happens frequently, that whales come too near the stream, and are overpowered by its violence ; and then it is impossible to describe their howlings andbellowings intheirfruitless struggles to disengage themselves. A bear once, attempting to swim from Lofoden to Moskoe, was caught by the stream and borne down, while he roared terribly, so as to be heard on shore. Large stocks of firs and pine trees, after being absorbed by the current, rise again, broken and torn to such a degree as if bristles grew upon them. This plainly shows the bottom to consist of craggy rocks, among which they are whirled to and fro. This stream is regulated by the flux and reflux of the seu it being constantly high and low-water every six hours. In the year 1645, early in the morning of Sexngcsima Sunday, it raged with such noise and im petuositythat the verystones ofthe houses on the coast fell to the ground."

In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this could have been ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity ofthe vortex. The "fortyfathoms" must have reference only to portions of the channel close upon the shore cither ofMoskoeor Lofoden. The depth in the centre of the Moskoe-strom must be im measurably greater; and no better proof of this fact is necessary that can be obtained from even the sidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl which may be had from the highest crag of Helseggen. Looking down from this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I could not help smiling at the simplicity with which the honest Jonas Ramus records, as a matter difficult of belief, tlic aneedotes of the whales and the bears ; for it appeared to ine, iu fact, a self-evident thing, that the largest ship of the line in existence, coming within the influence of that deadly attraction, could resist it as

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELST110M.

little as a feather the hurricane, and must disappear bodily and at once.

The attempts to account for thephenomenon some ofwhich I remember, seemedto me sufficiently plausible in perusal now wore a very different and unsatis factory aspect. The idea generally received is, that this, as well as three smallervortices among the Ferroe islands, " have no other cause than the collision of waves rising and falling, at flux and reflux, against a ridge ofrocks and shelves, which confines the water so that it precipitates itselflike a cataract ; and thus the higher the flood rises, the deeper must the fall bo, and the natural result of all is a whirlpool or vortex, tho prodigious suction of which is sufficiently known by lesser experiments." These are the words ofthe " En cyclopaedia Britannica." Kireher and others imagine that in the centre of the channel of the Maelstrom is an abyss penetrating the globe, and issuing in some very remote part theGulf ofBothnia being somewhat decidedly named in one instance. This opinion, idle in itself, was the one to which, as I gazed, my imagi nation most readily assented ; and mentioning it to the guide, I was rather surprised to hear him say, that although it was the view almost universallyentertained of the subject by the Norwegians, it nevertheless was not his own. As to the former notion, he confessed his inability to comprehend it ; and here I agreed with him for,however conclusive on paper,it becomes alto getherunintelligible, andevenabsurd,amid the thunder ofthe abyss.

" You have had a good lookat the whirlnow," said the old man; " andifyou will creep round this crag, so as to get in its lee, and deaden the roar of the water, I will tell you a story that will convince you I ought to know something ofthe Moskoe-strom.

I placed myselfas desired, and he proceeded : "Myselfandmytwobrothersonceownedaschoonerrigged smack ofaboutseventy tons burthen, with which

A n•;scENT INTOTUY. MAELSTllOllf.

wewerein thehabit offishiugamongthe islamlsbeyondMoskoc,nearly toVurrgh. Inullviolent eddies att1eathereisgoodfishing, at proper opportunities,if onehnsonlythecouragetoattemptit; butamongthe whole ofthe Lofoden constmen, we three were the onlyones who madtiaregularbusinessofgoingout to the islnuds, ns I tell you. The usunl gl'Ouncls arcngreatwnylowerdown to the southward. There fishcanbegotntnllhom-s, without much 1·isk, and therefore these placesare preferred. The choice spotsoverhere amongthe rocks, however, not only yield the finest variety, but in for greater abundance; so thnt we often

got in a single day, what the more timid of the craft could not scrape together in a week. In fact, we made it a matter of desperate speculation the risk of life standing instead of labour, and courage answering for capital.

" We kept the smack in a coveaboutfive mileshigher up the coast than this; and it was our practice, in fine weather, to take advantage of the fifteen minutes' slack to push across the main channel of the Moskoe-strom, far above the pool, and then drop down upon anchorage somewhere near Ottcrholm, or Sandflesen, whore the eddies are not so violent as elsewhere. Here we used to remain until nearly timo for slack water again, whon we weighed and made for home. We neversetoutupon this expedition without a steady side-wind for going and coming one that we felt sure would not fail us before our return ; and we seldom made a miscalculation upon this point. Twice, during six years, we were forced to stay all night at anchor on accountof adead calm, which is a rare thing indeed just about here ; and once we had to remain on the grounds nearly a week, starving to death, owing to a gale which blew up shortly after our arrival, and made the chaunel too boisterousto bethought of. Upon this occasion we should have been driven out to se% in spite of everything (for the whirlpools threwus round and round so violently that, at length, we fouled our anchor and dragged it), if it had not been that we drifted into one of the innumerable cross currents here to-day and gone tq-moyrow-rrwhioh drove us under the lee of ITlimen, where, by good. U\ok, we brought up.

" I could not tell you the twentieth-PVt of the diffi culties we encountered 'on the grounds.' It is a bad spot to be in, even in good weather ; but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of! the Moskoe-strom itself without accident ; although atj times- my heart has been in my month when we happened to ho. ft minute or so behind or before the slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong as we thought it at starting ; and then we

thh MAKLsrnojr.

made rather less way tban wo could wish ; while the current rendered the smack unmanageable. My eldest brother had a son eighteen years old, and I had two stout boys of my own. These would have been of great assistance at such times, in using the sweeps, as well as afterward in fishing ; but, somehow, although we ran the risk ourselves, we hadnotthe heart to let the young ones get into the danger for,after all is said and done, it was a horriblo danger, and that is the truth.

" It is now within a fow days of throe years since what I ana going to tell you occurred. It was on the tenth day of July, 18 , a day which the people of this part of the world will never forget ; for it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever came out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and in deed until late in the afternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze from the south-west, while the sun shone brightly, so that the oldest seaman among us could not have foreseen what was to follow.

" The three of us my twobrothersand myself had crossed over to the islands about two o'clock, p.m., and had soon nearly loaded the smack with fine fish, which, we all remarked, were more plenty that day than wehad everknown them. It was just seven, by my watch, when we weighed and started for home, so as to make the worst of the Strom atslack water, which wo knew would bo at eight.

" We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for some time spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of danger, for indeed we saw not the slightest reason to apprehend it. All at once we weretaken aback by a breeze from over Helseggen. This was most unusual something that had never happened to us before ; and I began to feel a little uneasy without exactly knowing why. We put the boat on tho wind, but could make no headway at all for the eddies ; and I was upoii the point of proposing to return to the an chorage when, looking astern, we saw the whole horizon d 2

THE MAELtmiOM.

covered with a singular copper-coloured cloud that rose with the most amazing velocity.

" Jn the meantime, the breeze that had headed us off fell away, and we were dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This state of things, however, did not last long enough to give ns time to think about it. In less than a minute the storm was upon us in less than

two the sky was entirely overcast; and what with this and the driving spray, it became suddenly so dark that we could not see each other in the smack.

" Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describing. The oldest seaman in Norway never expe rienced anything like it. We had let our sails go by the run before it cleverly took us ; but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board as if they had been sawed off the mainmast taking with it my youngest brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety.

TIfK MAELSTltOM.

60

" Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon water. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near the bow ; and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten down when about to cross the Strom, by way of precaution against the chop ping seas. But for this circumstance we should have foundered at once ; for we lay entirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escaped destruction I cannot say, for I never had an opportunity of ascertain ing. For my part, as soon as I had let the foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my feet against the narrow gunwaleof the bow, and with my hands grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of the fore-mast. It was mere instinct that prompted me to do this which was un doubtedly the very best thing I could have done for I was too much flurried to think.

" For some moments wo were couiplotcly deluged, as. I say, and all this time I held mybreath,and clung to the bolt. When I could stand it no longer I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping hold with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our little boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming out of the water, and thus rid herself, in some measure, of the seas. I was now trying to get the better of the stupor that had como over me, and to collectmysenses so as to see what was to be done, when I felt somebodygraspmy arm. It was my elder brother, and my heart leaped for joy, for I had made sure that he was overboard ; butthe next moment all this joy was turned into horror for heput his mouth close to my ear, and screamed out the word ' Moskoc-strom !'

" No one ever will know what my feelings were at that moment. I shookfromheadto footas ifI hadhad themost violent fit of the ague. I knew what he meant by that one word well enough I knew what he wished tomake me understand. With the wind that now drove us on, we were bound for the whirl of the Strom, and nothing could save us.

'.0

THK MAELSTROM.

" You perceive that in crossing the Strom channel. wo always wont a long way up above tho whirl, even in tho calmest weather, and then had to wait and watch carefully for the slack ; but now wo were driving right upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane as this ! ' To be sure,' I thought, ' we shall get there just about the slack there is some littlehope in that ;' but in the next moment I cursed myself for being so great a fool as to dream of hope at all. I knew very well that wo wore doomed, had we been ten times a ninety-gun ship.

"By this time the first furyof the tempest had spent itsolf, or perhaps wo did not feel it so much, as we scudded bofore it; but at all events tho seas, which at first had been kept down by the wind, and lay flat and frothing, now gotup intoabsolutemountains. A singular change, too, had come over the heavens. Around in every direction it was still as black as pitch ; but nearly overhead there burst out, all at once, a circular rift of clear sky as clear as I ever saw, and of a deep bright blue and through it there blazed forth the full moon with a lustre that I never before knew herto wear. She lit up everythingabout us withthe greatest distinctness ; but, 0 God ! what a scene it was to light up !

"I now made one or two attempts to speak to my brother ; but, in some manner which I could not un derstand, the din had so increasedthat I could not make him hear a single word, although I screamed at the top of my voice in his ear. Presently he shook his head, looking as pale as death, and held up one of his lingers, as if to say, ' Listen!'

"At first I could not make out what he meant, but soon a hideous thought flashed upon me. I dragged my watch from its fob. It was not going. I glanced at its face by the moonlight, and then burst into tears as I flung it far away into tho ocean. It had run down at seven o'clock! We were behind the time of the slack, and the whirl of the Strom was infullfury.

" When a boat is well built, properly trimmed, and

not ileep laden, the waves in a strong gale, when she is going large, seem always to slip from beneath her which appears very strange to a landsman ; and this is what is called riding, in sea phrase. Well, so far we had ridden the swells very cleverly ; but presently a gigantic sea happened totake us right under the counter, and bore us with it as it rose up up as if into the sky. I would not have believed that any wave could rise so high. And then downwe came with a sweep, a slide, and a plunge, that made me feel sick and dizzy, as if I was falling from some lofty mountain-top in a dream. But while we were up I had thrown a quick glance around and that one glance was all-sufficient. I saw our exact position in an instant. The Moskoe-strom whirlpool was about a quarter of a mile dead ahead but no more liko the everyday Moskoo-slrom than the whirl as you now sco it is liko a mill-race. If I had not known where wo were, and what we had. to expect, I should not have recognised the place at all. As it was, I involuntarily closed my eyes in horror. The lids clenched themselves together as if in a spasm.

" It could not have been more than two minutes afterward when we suddenly felt the waves subside, and were enveloped in foam. The boat made a sharp half-turn to larboard, and thou shot otF in its new direction like a thunderbolt. At the same moment the roaring noise of the water was completely drowned in a kind of shrill shriek such a sound as you mightimagine given out by the waste-pipes of many thousand steamvessels letting off their steam all together. We were now in the belt of surf that always surrounds the whirl ; and I thought, of course, that another moment would plunge us in the abyss down which we could only see indistinctly on account of the amazing velocity with which wo wore borne along. Tho boat did not seom to sink into the water at all, but to slum like an air-bubble upon the surface of the surge. Her starboard side was next the whirl, and on the larboard arose the world of

THE MAELSTROM.

ocean we had left. It stood like a huge writhing wall between us and the horizon.

" It may appear strange, but now, when we were in the veryjaws of the gulf, I felt morecomposed than when we were only approaching it. Having made up mymind to hope no more, I got rid of a great deal of that terror which unmanned me at first. I suppose it was despair that strung my nerves.

" It may look like boasting but what I tell you is truth : I began to reflect how magnificent a thing it was to die in such a manner, and how foolish it was in me to think of so paltry a consideration as my own individual life, in view of so wonderful a manifestation of Clod's power. I do believe that I blushed with shame when this idea crossed my mind. After a little while I became possessed with the keenest curiosity about the whirl itself. I positivelyfelt a wish to explore its depths, even at the sacrifice I was going to make ; and my prin cipal grief was that I should never beable to tell myold companions on shore about the mysteries I should see. These, no doubt, were singular fancies to occupy a man's mind in such extremity ; and I have often thought since that the revolutions of the boat around the pool might have rendered me a little light-headed.

" Therewas anothercircumstancewhich tended to re store my self-possession ; and thiswas the cessationof the wind, which could not reach us in our present situation; for, as you saw yourself, the belt of surf is considerably lower than the general bod of the ocean; and this latter now towered above us a high, black, mountainous ridge. If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale, you can form no idea of the confusion of mind occasioned by the wind and spray together. They blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away all power of action or reflection. But we were now, in a great measure, rid of these annoyances just as death-condemned felons in prison are allowed petty indulgences, forbidden them while their doom is yet uncertain.

" How often we made the circuit of the belt it is im possible to say. Wecareered roundand roundfor perhaps an hour, flying rather than floating, getting gradually more and more into the middle of the surge, and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge. All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My brother was at the stern, holding on to a small empty water-cask which had been securely lashed uuder the coop of the counter, and was the only thing on deck that had not been swept overboard wheu the galo first took us. As we approached the brink of the pit, he let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, from which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavoured to force my hands, as it was not large enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief than when I saw him attempt this act, although I knew he was a madman when he did it a raving maniac through sheer fright. I did not care, however, to contest the point with him. I knew it could make no difference whether either of us held on at all; so 1 lethim have thebolt, and went astern to the cask. This there was no great difficultyin doing, for the smack flew round steadily enough, and upon an even keel, only swaying to and fro with the immense sweeps and swelters of thewhirl. Scarcelyhad I secured myself in my new position, when we gave a wild lurch to starboard, and rushed headlong into theabyss. I mut tered a hurried prayer to God, and thought allwas over.

" As I felt the sickening sweep ofthe descent, I had instinctively tightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some seconds 1 dared not open them, while I expected instant destruction, and won dered that I was not already in my death-struggles with the water. But moment after moment elapsed. I still lived. The sense of falling had ceased ; and the motion of the vessel seemed much as it had been before, while in the belt of foam; with the exception that she now lay more along. I took courage, and looked once again upon the scene.

D*

THE MAELSTROM.

" Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admiration with which I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be hanging, as if by magic, midway down, upon the interior surface of a funnel vast in circum ference, prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony, but for the bewildering rapiditywith which they spun round, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance they shot forth, as the rays of the full moon, from that circular rift amid the clouds which I have already described, streamed in a Hood of golden glory along the black walls, and far away down into the inmost recesses of the abyss.

" At first I was too much confused to observe any thing accurately, The general burst of terrific grandeur was all that I beheld. When I recoveredmyself a little, however, my gaze fell instinctively downward. In this direction I was able to obtain an unobstructed view, from the manner in which the smack huug on the inclined surface of the pool. She was quite upon an even keel that is to say, her deck lay in a plane parallel with that of the water ; but this latter sloped at an angle of more than forty-five degrees, so that we seemed to bo lying upon our beam ends. I could not help observing, never theless, that I had scarcely more difficultyin maintaining my hold and footing in this situation than if we had been upon a dead level ; and this, I suppose, was owing to the speed at which we revolved.

" The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the profound gulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on account of a thick mist in which everything there was enveloped, and over which there hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and totter ing bridge which Mussulmen say is the only pathway between time and eternity. This mist, or spray, was no doubt occasioned by the clashing ofthe greatwallsof the funnel, as they all met together at the bottom ; but tho yell that went up to the heavens from out of that mist I dare not attempt to describe.

75

" Our first slide into the abyss itself, from the belt of foam nbove, had carried us a great distance down the slope ; but our farther descent was by no moans pro portionate. Round and round we swept not with any uniform movement but in dizzying swings and jerks, that sent us sometimes only a few hundred yards, some times nearly the complete circuit of the whirl. Our pro gress downward, at each revolution, was slow, but very perceptible.

" looking about mo upon the wide wasto of liquid ebony on which we wore thus borne, I perceived that our boat was not the only object in the embrace of the whirl. Both above and below us were visible fragments of vessels, large masses of building-timber and trunks of trees, with many smaller articles, such as pieces of housefurniture, broken boxes, barrels and staves. I have already described the unnatural curiosity which had taken the place of my original terrors. It appeared to grow upon me as I drew nearer and nearer to my dreadful doom. I now began to watch, with a strange interest, the numerous tilings that floated in our com pany. I must have been delirious, for I even sought amusement in speculating upon the relative velocities of their several descents toward the foam below. ' This fir-troo,' I found myself at one time saying, ' will cer tainly be the next thing that takes the awful plunge and disappears ;' and then I was disappointed to find that the wreck of a Dutch merchant-ship overtook it and went down before. At length, after making several guesses of this nature, and being deceived in all, this fact the fact of my invariable miscaleulation set me upon a train of reflection that made my limbs again tremble, and my heart beat heavily once more.

" It was not a new terror that thus affected me, bui the dawn of amoroexcitinghope. Thishopoarose partly from memory, and partly from present observation. I called to mind the great variety of buoyant matter that strewed the coast of Lofoden, having been absorbed and d* 2

THE MAELSTROM.

then thrown forth by the Moskoe-strom. By far the greater numbor of the urticles were shattered in the' most extraordinary way so chafed and roughened as to have the appearance of being stuck full of splinters ; but then I distinctly recollected that there were some of them which were not disfigured at all. Now I could not account for this difference except by supposing that the roughened fragments were the onlyones which had been completely absorbed that the others had entered the whirl at so late a period of the tide, or, for some reason, had descended so slowly after entering, that they did not reach the bottom before the turn of the flood came, or of tho ebb, as tho case might bo. I conceivedit possible, in either instance, that they might thus be whirled up again to the level of the ocean, without undergoing the fate of those which had been drawn in more early, or absorbed more rapidly. I made, also, three important observations. The first was, that, as a general rule, the larger the bodies were, the more. rapid their descent ; the second, that, between two masses of equal extent, the one spherical, and the other ofany other shape, the superiority in speed of descent was with the sphere ; the third, that, between two masses of equal size, the one cylindrical,and the other of anyother shape, the cylinder was absorbed the more slowly. Since myescape, I have had several conversations on this subject with an old schoolmaster of the district; and it was from him that I learned the use of the words ' cylinder' and ' sphere.' He explained to me although I have forgotten tho ex planation how what I observed was, in fact, thenatural consequence,of the forms of the floating fragments ; and showed me how it happened that a cylinder, swimming in a vortex, offered more resistance to its suction, and was drawn in with greater difficulty than an equally bulky body of any form whatever.*

" There was one startling circumstance which went a

THK MAELSTItOM.

17 great way in enforcing these observations, aud rendering me anxious to turn then to account, and thiswas, that.at every revolution we passed something like a barrel, or else the yardor the mast of a vessel; while uiauyofthose things which had been on our level when I first opened my eyes upon the wonders of the whirlpool, were new high up above us, and seemed to have moved but little from their original station.

" I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securely to tho water-cask upon which I.now held, to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw my self with it into the water. I attracted nay brother's attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that came near us, and did everything in my power to make him understand what I >ras about to do. I thought atlength that he comprehended my 'design ; but, whether this was the case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station by tthe ring-bolt. It was impossibleto reachhim ; the -esnm'gewcy'admitted of no 'delay; «nd so, with a bitterstruggle, I resignedhim to his fate, fastened myself to the «aak by means of thelashings which secured it tothe'Ciwnteir, rand precipitated myself with it into the sea", wMwtttanother mo ment's hesitation, "The result was precisely whatIhoped it might be. As it is mysolf who now tell you this tale ns you see that I did escape and as you are already in possession of the mode in which this escape was effected, and must therefore anticipate all that I have farther to say I will bring my story quickly to conclusion. It might have been an hour,orthereabout, after my quitting thesmack, when, having descended to a vast distance beneath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapid succession, and, bearing myloved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and for ever, into the chaos of foam below. The barrel to which I was attached sank very little farther than half the'distance between the bottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great

'78

THE IIAELSTROM. changetookplaceinthecharacterofthewhirlpool. The slopeofthesidesofthev,u1t funnel becamemomently Jessandless steep. 'l'he gymtions of the whirl grew

g1'1duallyJessandlessviolont. Bydogl'ees, the froth andthe1-ainbowdisappeared,andthebottomofthegulf seemedslowlytoupl'ise. Theskywnsclear, thewinds hadgonedown,andthefull moonwassettingradiantly inthewest,whenI found myself onthesurfaceofthe ocean, infullviewof theshoresofLofoden, andabove thespotwherethepoe,1of theMoskoe-strom /rnd been. Itwasthe hourof theslack; but the sea stillheaved inmountainouswavesfromtheeffectsofthehurricane.

I was borne violently into the channel of the Strom, mid in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the ' grounds ' of the fishermen. A boat picked me up exhausted from fatigue, and (now that the danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. Those who drew me on board were my old mates and daily companions ; but they knew me no more than they would have known a traveller from the spirit-land. My hair, which had been raven-black the day before, was us white as you see it now. They say, too, that the whole expression of mycountenance bad changed. I told them my story they did not believe it. I now tell it to you ; and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry fishermen of Lofoden."

lie Bittrto in tjie Jltte Biurgttt

" AVhat soug tho Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed wheu hidho himself among women, ullhough puszliug questions, arO not boyond conjecture."ull 8tu Tuoius Bkowkk.

fj^HE mental features discoursed of us the analytical, are, in themselves, but little V })fpM&isk susceptible of analysis. We appreciate »&$mSgj&W them only in their effects. We know of them, among other things, that they are always to their possessor, when inordi nately possessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the analyst in that moral activity which disentangles. He derives pleasure from even the most trivial occupations bringing his talent into play. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hiero glyphics ; exhibiting in his'salutions of each a degree of acumen which appears to the 'Ordinary apprehension preternatural. His results, "brought about by the very soul and'essenoe of method, have, in trMi, the whole air of intuition. _;...' .'-"-,,. -*;.;---

Thefacultyof re-solsfion'is'possibly muchinvigorated by mathematical stndy, 'and especially by'that highest branch of it whieli, unjustly, and merely on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, as if par ex cellence, analysis. Yet to caleulate is not in itself to mjalyse. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort at the other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental character, is greatly

JIORDEUS IN TlU: IWI� MOllOUR, misunderstood. I am·-not now writing atreatise, but simplyprefacingasomewhatpeculiarnarrativebyobservations very much at random; I will..there.for.e...take occas!o.n_t.o_1¥-1.$.etlthatthe.lmdt.!!.t.�e.111JlLtha.ralu:!l1ixe iiitellectaremoredecide�lya114moro\lsefµJly.f.a!!kedby Uie--unosteutatious gam.e...m,.£1.1:1rnght11....tluw..h.v.:�lLt�e 13lah!)rate_frivolity 0£chess. • In this latter, where the ""' pieceshavedifferentandbizarremotions,withvariousand vruinblovalues,whatisonlycomplex is mistaken (a not un\181ll\lerror) for what is p1-ofound. 1.'he atte,itio,i is herecalledpowerfullyintoplay. Ifitflagfor-aninstant, 11noversightis committed, resulting ininjury or,defeat. Thepossiblemovesbeingnotonlymanifoldbutinvolute, the chances of such oversights are multiplied; aud in ninecasesoutoftenitis themore concentrative rather thai1thomore acute·playerwho-conquers. Jndrati-ghts, ontl!!!�Dtl'llt)', wh!lx�_tb.e_�Qv�.ii.re y,n-ique and ·havelmtlittle'\"lll:�a.tiim, theJ2l"Qbo.bilities..ofr inadvertenceIll' mmmll!!!�d....JWd.tlie.mere.o.t.tentkiu b�i.iigleit...c.ompara•

tiOily uncmploy_ed,. what aclva.IItoges are obtained by, e1 er pj_ffti,..u.ui..o.\!min�d..b.r.superior'acumen. To·be leis"alistract, let us suppose a·gameofdro.ughts·where the pieces are reduced to four-kings, ,and where,·•of course, no ove1'8ight is to he expected. It is obvious thatharathevictory can be·,decided (theplayers being o.t nll c11uol) only by some 01·tloherclid movoment, tho result·ofsomestrougexertionoftheintellect. Depl'ived of'fil,dinnr_rljr��urces1 the!}llal_y�throwshimseltilito--�otfilMt11f_ l!l_o}!�•!.�fil....identilies•himself therewith, and. 1;to.liwfraquentJ,y11.e.�-�hu§, at11.glancie,tho.wue.:me�ho.<!!. (sometimes, indeed, abs.urdlylW.llple.Ques)J>ywhicli_�� Jliaj'sedlicefotoerrororhurry.intomiaceJcuJetio'l'l.

Whist has long been noted for its influence upon whatistermed the calculating power; and men'Of the highest order of intellect have been known totake an apparentlymi11CCOunto.bledelight in it, while oschewing chessosfrivolous. Beyond dou'btthereis nothing ofa similarnatw-e S<'greotJy 1tasking thefaculty of.analysis.

JIIUBDEB8 IN THE BUE )IOBGUE.

The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than the bestplayer of chess; butproficiency in whistimpliescapacityforsuccess in nil thosemoreimportantunde11.nkings where miiul struggles with mind. WhenIsayproficiency,I mean that perfection in the gamewhichincludesacomprehensionofallthe sources wlience legitimate advantage may be derived. These arenotonlymanifoldbutmultiform,and lie frequently amongrecessesof thoughtaltogetherinaccessibletothe ordinaryunderstanding. Toobserve attentivelyistorememberdistinctly; and,sofar theconcentrative chessplayerwilldoverywellatwhist,whilethemlesofHoyle (themselvesbnseduponthemeremechanismoftl1egame) aresufficiently,and generallycomprehensible. 'l'hus, to havearetentivememoryandtoproceedby"thebook,"at·e pointscommonlyregardedasthesumtotalofgoodplaying.

I Butitisinmattersbeyondthelimitsof merenilethat :i ilie·;,1�iJ[oft11einin!fstisjvincec,!j"Iien1aT\es1n stl� hostofobservationsaniImterences.. ,so,rerhaps, dohis companions; andtiiediffin-ellceifi1heextentofTI1emloriiiation olitiiinetitbsnot !JO muchinthevalitfit:;yof�,oil'I' ferencensinthoqualityoftheohservlltion.•Thonecessiii;Y knowledgeisthatoftvltat to obseryo; • Ourplayer conlfnes himself notat all; nor because the gameisthe objectdoesherejectdeductions fromthingsexternalto thegame. Heexaminesthecountenanceofhispnrtner, comparingitcarefullywithtl1atofeachofhisopponents. He considers the modeofassorting the cardsineach hand;,often countiug trump by t111mp, nn<l honour by l1011our, through the glancesbestowed bytheir holders 111poneach. :Henoteseveryvariationoffaceas theplay progresses,gatheringafund of thoughtfromthodifferences in the expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, orofchagrin. Fromthemam1erof.gathering upatrickhe judges whether the persontaking it can makeanotherinthosuit. Herecogniseswhatisplayed throughfeint, bytheair with which it is thrownupon thetable. Acasualor inadvertentword;theaccidental

MUBDEES IN THE HUE M0ROOE.

83

dropping or turning of a card, with the accompanying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its concealment ; the countingof the tricks, with theorderof theirarrange ment ; embarrassment, hesitation, eagerness or trepida tion all afford, to his apparently intuitive perception, indications of the true state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having been played,he is in full possession of the contents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with as absolute a precison of purpose as if the rest of tho party had turned outward tho facos of their own.

The analytical power should not he. confottuxleiL\vith sjmjilejugennity.; for_\vMe.the.analyst is necessarily.in; ^enious, theingenious.mail is often xmailiaid^jncapahle of analysis. The constructive or combiniug power, by which ingenuity is usually manifested, and to which phrenologists (1 believe erroneously) have assigned a separate orgau, supposing it a primitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in. those whose intellect bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general ob servation among writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there exists a difference far greater indeed than that between the fancy and the ima gination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It j will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always UuicTfuT,.and..tho truly.imaginative nevor otherwise- than | analytic.

The narrativewhich follows will appear to the reader somewhat in the light of a commentary upon the propo sitions just advanced.

Residing in Palis during the spring.and part of the summer of 18 , I there became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of anexcellent, indeed of an illustrious family; but, by a varioty of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty that the energy of his character succumbed be neath it, and he ceased to bestir himself in the world or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes. By courtesy of

I

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

Ms creditors, there still remained in his possession a small remnant of his patrimony ; and upon the income arising from this he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries and in Paris these are easily obtained.

Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, where the accident of our both being in search of the same very rare and very romarkablo volume brought us into closer communion. We saw each other again and again. I was deeply interested in the little family history, which ho detailed to me with all that candour which a Frenchman indulges whenever mere self is his theme. I was astonished, too, at the vast extent of his reading; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled within me by the wild fervour and the vivid freshness 'of his imagination. Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the society of such a man would be to me a treasure beyond prioe, and this feeling I frankly confided to lriui. It was at length arranged that we should live together during my stay in the city ; andas myworldlycircumstances were somewhat less embarrassed :than his own, I was permitted to be at the expense of renting and furnishing, in a style which suited the rather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, long deserted through superstitions into which we did not inquire, and tottering to its fall, in aretired and desolate portion of the Faubourg St. Germain.

Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen ; although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect; we admitted no visitors. Indeed, the locality of our retirement had been carefully kepta secret from my own former associates ; and it'had been many years since Dupin had ceased to know or bo known in Paris. We'existed within ourselves alone.

MURDERS 1N THE RUR MORGUE.

85

It was a fren.k of fancy in my friend (for what else ijball I call it?) to be enamoured of the Night for her ownsake; andintothisbizarrerie,asinto all hisothers, I quietly fell, giving myself up to his wild whims with o. perfect abandon. The sable divinity would not herself dwell with us always, but we could counterfeit her presence. At the firstdawnof themorning we closed all the massy shutters of our old building, lighting a.couple of tnpers which, strongly perfumed, threw out only tho ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of those we busied our souls iu d1·eams, reading;writing, or conversing, until warned by the clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into the streets, arm-in•arm, continuing the topics of the day or roaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lights nnd shndows of the populous city, that infinity of mental excitement which quiet observation can afford.

At such times I could not help remarking and ad� mhfog (n.lthough from his l'ich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) a 1u1mili1u:.J!nal,Y1i-9Jbilitj_iu.J�.upi\t.He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in its exercise, if not exactly in its display, and did not hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived. He boasted to me, with alow chuckling laugh, that mostmen, in respect to himself, woro windows in their· bosoms, and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct nud very startling proofsof his intimate knowledge ofmy own. His manner at these moments was frigid o.nd abstract, his eyes were vacant in expression; while .his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose intoa treble, which would have sounded petulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the enunciation. Observing him in these

I often dwelt meditatively upon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy o a double Dupin-the creative and the resolvent.

moods�

·Let it not be supposed, from what I havejust said, that I amdetailing anymystery, orpenninganyromance. WhatIhave describedinthe Frenchmanwas merelythe

resultof an excited, or perhaps of a diseasedintelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the period in question an example will hest convey tho idea.

We were strolling one night down a long dirtystreet, in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Being both ap parently occupied with thought, neitherof us hadspoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at once Dupin broke forth with these words,

" He is a very little fellow, that's true ; and would do better for the Theatre des Varictes."

" There can be no doubt of that," I replied un wittingly, and not at first observing (somuch had I boon absorbed in reflection) theextraordinarymanner inwhich the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. In an instant afterward I recollected myself, and my astonish ment was profound.

" Dupin," said I, gravely, " this is beyond my com prehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcelycredit my senses. How was it possible ' you should know I was thinking of ?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought.

" Of Chantilly," said he; " why do youpause ? You were remarking to yourself that his diminutive figure? unfitted him for tragedy."

This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections. Chantilly wasa quondam cobbler of the Hue St. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had attempted the role of Xerxes, in Ordbillon's tragedy so callod, and been notoriously pasquinaded for his plans.

" Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, " the method if method there is by which you have been enabled to fathom my sotil in this matter!" In fact, I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express.

"It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who brought you to the conclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient heightfor Xerxes et id genusomne."

MURDEItS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

87

" The fruiterer? You astonish me! I know no fruiterer whomsoever."

" The man who ran up against youas weentered the street it may have been fifteen minutes ago."

I now remembered that, in fact, afruiterer, carrying upon his head a large basket of apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed from the Rue C into the thoroughfare where we stood ; but what this had to do with Chantilly I could notpossibly understand.

There was not aparticle ofcharlatanerieaboutDupin. " I willexplain,'' he said; "and thatyoumaycomprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the course of your medi tations, from the moment in which I spoke to you until thatof the rencontre with the fruiterer in question. The larger links of tho chain run thus Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols, Epicurus, storeotomy, the street-stones, tho -fruiterer."

' There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives, amused themselves in retracing the steps by which particular conclusions of their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full of interest ; andhewhoattemptsitforthefirsttimeisastonished bythe ' apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between tho starting-point and the goal. What, then, must havo beon my amazement when I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when I could not help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth? He continued :

" We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just before leaving the Eue 0 . This was the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into this street a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his head, brushing quicklypast us, thrustyouuponapileofpavingstones collected at a spot where the causeway is under going repair. You stepped upon one of the loose frag ments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at

the pile, and then proceeded in silence. I was not par ticularly attentive to what you did ; but observation has become with me, of late, a species of necessity.

" You kept your eyes upon the ground glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement (so that I saw you were still thinking of the stones), tillwereached thelittle alley called"Lamartine," which had been paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up ; and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word ' stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, aud thus of the theories of Epicurus ; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and;I certainly expected that you would do so. You did lookup; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bittor tirado upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday's Musee, the satirist, makingsome disgraceful allusionsto thecobbler's change ofname upon assuming the buskin, quotedaLatin line about which we have often conversed. I mean theline .: '- ':' .

l'crilitlit antiquum litora prima sommi.

; I hadtoldyouthat thiswas in reference to Orion^ for merly written Uriou ; and, from certain pungencies con nected with this explanation, I was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to combine the two ideasof Orionand Chantilly. That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far you had been stooping in your gait; but now I sawyou draw

llURDEJLS Ill THE RUE llOROUE.

yourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted yout· meditations to remark that as, infact, hewasaverylittlefello,v-that Chantilly -he would do better at the Theo.tre des Variet.es.•·

Not long afterthis, we were looking over au evening editionofthe Gazettedea Tribwuuw:, when the following pal'Bgraphs nrrestell our attention.

"ExTllAORDINARY MunDEns.-This moming, about three o'clock, the iuhubitauts of the Quartier .St. &cbt

MUIIDERS IN THE IUJE MOKCUK. werearoused from sleepbya successionof terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth story of a house in the lluo Morgue, known to bo in tho sole occupancy of one Madame l'Espanaye, and herdaughterMademoiselle Camille l'Espanaye. After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admission in the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of the neighbours entered, accompanied by two gendarmes. By this time thecries had ceased ; but, as the party rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, in angry contention, were distin guished, and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. As the second landing Was reached, these sounds also had ceased* and everything remained per fectly quiet. The party Bpread themselves, and hurried from room to room, Upon arriving at a large back chamber in the fourth 6tofey (the door of which, being found locked, with the key inside, WaB forced open), a spectacle presented itself which struck every one present not less with horror than with astonishment.<p^. i, 'jno apartmont was in the wildest disorder -the furniture broken and thrown about in all directions. There Was Only one bedstead; and front this the bed had beenremoved, andthrownintothemiddleofthe floor. On a cliaif lajr-araztir, besmeared with blbdd. Oh the hearth wefe two of three long and thick tfdssds of grey human hair, als"ft dabbled in blood, and-seeming to have been pulled Out by the roots. Upon tho floor wer? found ToUf Napbleohs,. an ear-ring of top&ii, three lnrgu .silver spoons, three smaller of metal d'Alger, and two bags, containing nearly four thousand franes in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which stood in one corner, were open, and had been apparently rifled, although many articles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered under tho bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still in the door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papers of little consequence :

MUllDKItS IN XI IK nui: MJKOUE. SI

" Of Madame l'Espannye no traces were here seen: but an unusual quantity of soot being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, and, hor rible to relate! the corpse of the daughter, head downTvnTJ^jvnsjh-ngged thfrpfmm: it-having been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm. Upon examining it, many exco riations were perceived, no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it had boen thrust up and disen gaged. Upon the face were many severe scratches, and upon the throat dark bruises and deep indentations of finger-nails, as if the deceased had been throttled to death.

"Afterathoroughinvestigation ofevery portion of the house, without farther discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the building, where lay {jio corpso of the oldJady, withher thrpatjag entirely cut that, unoujui attempt to raise hor, tho. hoad .fetTofC The body, as well as tho head, was fearfully mutilated, the former so much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity.

" To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, We believe, the slightest clue."

The next day's paper had these additional particu lars :

"The,Tnaged* in the Hue MonowE. Manyindi viduals have been examined inrelation to thismostextra ordinary and frightful affair, but nothing whatever has transpired to throw light upon it. We give below all the material testimony elicited.

"Pauline Diibourg, laundress, deposes that she has known both the deceased for three years, having washed for them during that period. Tlie old lady and her daughter seemed on good terms; very affectionate to wards each other. They were excellent pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode or means of living. Be lieved that Madame L. told fortunes for a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any persons

MURDERS IN TUB RUE MOllGUE.

in the housewhen she called for the clothes or took them home. Was sure that they had no servant in employ. Thoro appourod to ho no furniture in any part of tho building except in the fourth storey.

"Pierre Morcau, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit of selling small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame TEspanaye for nearly four years. Was born in the neighbourhood, and has always resided there. The deceased and her daughter had occupied the house in which the corpses were found for more than six years. It was formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms tovarious persons. The house was the property of Madame L. She became dissatis fied with the abuse of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to let any portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had seen the daughter some five or six times during the six years. The two lived an exceedingly retired life ; were reputed to have money. Had heard it said among the neigh bours that Madame L. told fortunes; did not believe it. Had never seen any person enter the door except the old lady and her daughter, a porter once or twice, and a physician some eight or ten times.

" Many other persons, neighbours, gave evidence to the same effect. No one was spoken of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether there were any living connexions of Madamo L. and her daughter. Tho shutters of the front windows were seldom opened. Those in the rear were always closed, with tho exception of the large back-room, fourth storey. The house was a good house; not very old.

"Isidore Muset, gendarme, deposes that hewascalled to the house about three o'clock in the moruing, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the gateway, endeavouring to gain admittance. Forced it open at length with a bayonet, not with a crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate, and bolted neither at bottom

SlUltDERS IN THE BUE M0110UE. 93 nor top. The shrieks were continued until the gate was forced, and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screams of some person or persons in great agony ; were loud and drawn out, not short and quick. Witness led the way up-stairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard two voices in loud and angrycontention theone a gruff voice, the other much shriller, avery strange voice. Could distinguish some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Was positivo that it was not a vomnu's voice. Could distinguish the words sacre and duible. The shrill voice was that of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not make out what was said, but believed --1 the language to be Spanish. The state of the room and of the bodies was described by this witness as we described them yesterday.

"Henri Duval, a neighbour, and by trade a silver smith, deposes that he was one of the party who first entered the house. Corroborates the testimonyof Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance, they re-closed the door to keepout the crowd, which collected very fast, notwithstanding the latenessof the hour. The shrill voice, this witness thinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could not be sure that it was a man's voice. It might have been a woman's. Was not acquainted with tho Italian language. Could " not distinguish tho words, but was convinced by the in tonation that the speaker wasan Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both fre quently. Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased.

" Odenhcimcr, restaurateur. This witness vo lunteered his testimony. Not speaking French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of Am sterdam. Was passing tho houso at the time of the shrieks. They lastod for several minutes, probably ten. They were long and loud ; very awful and distressing. Was one of those who entered tho building. Corrobo

ill

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

rated the previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrill voice was that of a man ; of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish the words uttered. They wero loud and quick ; unequal ; spoken apparently in fear as well as in anger. The voice was harsh ; not so much shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff voice said, repeatedly, sacre, diable, and once mon Dieit.

" Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder Mignaud. Madame l'Espanaye had some property. Had opened an account with his banking-house in the spring of the year eight years previously. Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had checked for nothing until the third day before her death, when she took out in person the sum of 4000 franes. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk sent home with the money.

"Adolphe Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day in question, about noon, ho accompanied Madame l'Espanaye to her residence with the 4000 franes, put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his hands ono of the bags, while the old lady relieved him of theother. He then bowed and departed. Did not see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street, very lonely.

" William Bird, tailor, deposes that he was one of the party who entered the house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paris two. years. Was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. The ; gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several words, but cannot now remember all. Heard distinctly sacri and mon Dieu. There was a sound at the moment asif of several persons struggling ; a scrap ing and scuffling sound. The shrill voice was veryloud, louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it was not the V voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that of a - German. Might have been a woman's voice. Does not understand German.

MUKDUU3 IN Till' 11UJ". MOHOUE. 9>

" Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that the door of the chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was locked on the inside when the party reached it. Everything was perfectly silent; no groans or noises of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room, were down, and firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms was closed, but not locked- The door leading from the front room into the passage was locked, with tho koy on the inside. A small room in the front of the house, on the fourth storey, at the head of the passage, was open, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes, and so forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There was not an inch of any portion of tho house which was not carefully searched. Sweops woro sout up and down tho chimneys. The house was afourstorey ono, with garrets (iiumsanle*). A trap-dooron tho roof wits nailed down very securely ; did not appear to have been opened for years. The time elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention mid the breaking open of the room door was variously stated by the wit nesses. Some made it as short as three minutes, some as long as five. The door was opened with difficulty.

"Alfonso Oarcio, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain. Was one of the party who entered the house. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive of the con sequences of agitation. Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what-was said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman is sure of this. Does not understand the English language, butjudges by the intonation.

" Alberto Montani, confectioner, deposes that he was among the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices question. Tho grail voico was that of a Frenchman. languished several words. The speaker appeared to expostulating. Could not make out the words of tho

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

shrill voice. Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. Corroborates the general testimony. Is au Italian. Never conversed with a native of Russia.

" Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of all the rooms on the fourth storey were too narrow to admit the passage of a human being.' By ' sweeps' were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes, such as are employed by those who clean chimneys. These brushes were passed up and down every flue in the house. There is no back passage by which anyone could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. The body of Mademoiselle l'Espanaye was so firmly wedged in the chimney that it could not be got down until four or five of the party united theirstrength.

" Paul Dumas, physician, deposes that he was called to view the bodies about daybreak. They were both then lying on the sacking of the bedstead in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. yas found. The corpse of the young lady was much '^raised and excoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney would suffi ciently account for these appearances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deep scratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spots, which were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was fearfully discoloured, and the eye-balls pro truded. The tongue had been partially bitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pitofthestomach, produced apparently by the pressure of a knee. In the opinion of M. Dumas, Mademoisellel'Espanaye had been throttled to death by some person or persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discoloured. It was not possible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, . \I"broad bar of iron, a chair, any large, heavy, and obi ls weapon, would have produced such results, if wielde/ -':

MU11DKHS IN THK EUE MO KG IK.

07

the hands of a very powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows withany weapon. The headof the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely sepa rated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat had evidentlybeen cut with some very sharp instrument, probably with a razor.

" Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to viewthebodies. Corroborated the testimony and the opinions ofM. Dumas.

"Nothing fartherofimportancewaselicited,although severalotherpersonswere examined. Amurdersomys teriousandso perplexing in all itsparticulars was never before committed in Paris, if, indeed,a murderhas been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault : an unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadow ofa clue apparent."

The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement still continued in the Quarticr St. Iloch, that the premises in question had been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses insti tuted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however, mentioned that Adolphe le Bon,the banker's clerk, had beenarrested andimprisoned,althoughnothingappeared to criminate him beyond the facts already detailed.

Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair, at least so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. Itwas only afterthe announce ment that Le Bon had been imprisoned that he asked me my opinion respecting the murders.

I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the murderer.

" We mustnotjudge ofthe means," saidDupin,"by this shell of an examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings beyond the method of the moment. They make a vast parade of measures, but not unfrcquently these are so ill adapted 4 * E

98

�lURDlmS

MORGVE,

totheobjectsproposedasto,putusinmindof,lfonsieur ,Jou1·<lain'scalling.forhisroh8tlBcl,amhre--pourmieu;c entmtlrola,nuaique. Theresults attainedby.themare notunfrequentlysurprising,but,forthemostpart,are broughtaboutbysimplediligenceandactivity. When thesequalitiesarcunavailing,theirschemesfail. Vidocq, fi>1·example,wasagoodguesser,audaperseveringman; but,withouteducatedthought,heerredcontinuallyby theveryintensityofhisinvestigations. He.impail'ed hisvisionbyholdingtheobject.tooclose. He,might see,-pe1·haps,one 01· twopoints.withunusual clearness, hutinsodoinghoneocssarilylostsightofthematter 1\8 awhole. ,'l'husthereissuchathiugasbeingtoo1n·ofotind.,�!hl!!..notalwa sinawell;infact asre arcls t_llil....P.1orcunul).rtrin • O"\\'.c_geJ.......o. • tha he invm�u&er:cfoL The depth liesinthevalcys.wnerc WO see- cf;-nndnotupon-themountains-tops where she.is found. .Themodesandsources ofthis kindofCn'Orarcwelltrpifiedinthecontemplationor theheavenly bodies. 'Iolookat a starbyglances,to view,itin aside-longway,bytun1ingtowarditthe exteriorportionsofthoretina(morosusceptibleoffeeble impreRSionsof•ligbtthantheinterior),istobeholdthe stardistinctly,:istohavethe,bestappreciationofits lustre,alustrewhichgrowsdimjustinproportionaswe turnourvisionfi,llyuponit.. ·Agreaternumberofrays actuallyfullupon-theeyein,thelattercase,butinthe formerthereisthemorc:refinedcapacityforcomprehension.

�u<S profnndifv'we,perplexand enfeeble thmi�.i.an itisPQS§_i_blo-tomakeevenVenusherself vanish,frouiJlie·1t1"fi!o,menibyaiic�tiiiyJ�osustain� jooCOlll:!)ntrated.ortoodirect.-ASforthesemurde1'S, let·usenterintosomeexaminationsforourselves:before wemakeupan-.opinionrespectingthem..Aninquiry willaffordusamusement(Ithoughtthisanoddterm,so applied, butsaidnothing); andbesides,LeBononce 1·endered·mea service,forwhichIamnot,ungrateful. We:-willgoantiseethepromises,withourowneye11. I

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

>JU

know G , tho Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission.'' ,>. ..

Thepermission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one of those miser able thoroughfares which intervene between the. Hue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoonwhenworeachedit, as this quarteris at agreat distance from that in which we resided. The house was readily found, for thcro were still many persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless .curiosity, from the opposite sido of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house, with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding panel in.the window, indicating a loge de concierge1 Before going in, wewalked upthe street,turneddown an alley,and then, again turning, passedinthe rear ofthe building ; Dupin meanwhile examining tho whole neighbourhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention for which I could sec no possible object. - :

Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang, and, having shown our credentials, were admitted by the agents in charge. We .went up stairs into thechamber where the bodyofMademoiselle l'Espanaye hadbeen found, andwhere boththe deceased still lay. The disordersof tho room had,as usual,been sufFercd to exist. I sawnothingboyond what hadbeen stated in the Gazettedes Tribunaux.- Dupin scrutinized everything, not exceptingthe bodiesofthe victims.: We then wentinto the other rooms and intothe yard,a gen darme accompanying us throughout. . The examination occupied us until dark, when we took.our departure. On our way home my companion stepped in for a momentat the office of one of the daily papers. ; ! - .: /

I have said that the whims ofmy friend were mani fold, and thatJe les m&nagais (for this phraso there is no English equivalent). It was his humour, now, to decline all conversation on>.the subject of the murder, until about noon' the next day. He then. asked mc, E 2

100

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

suddenly, if I had observed anything peculiar at the sceue of the atrocity.

There was something in his manner of emphasising the word " peculiar" whichcaused me to shudder with out knowing why.

" No, nothing peculiar," I said, "nothing more, at least, than we both saw stated in the paper."

"The Gazette" he replied, "has not entered,I fear, into the unusual horror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very reason which should cause it to bo regarded as easy of solution

I mean, for the outre1 character of its features. The policeare confounded by the seeming absenceofmotive, not for the murder itself, but for the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seeming im possibility ofreconciling the voices heard in contention with the facts that no one was discovered up stairs bxit the assassinated Mademoiselle l'Espanaye, and that there were no means ofegress without the noticeofthe party ascending. The wild disorder of the room ; the corpse thrust, with the head downward, upthe chimney; the frightfulmutilationofthe bodyoftheold lady; these considerations, with those just mentioned, and others which I need not mention,have sufficed to paralyse the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted acu men of the Government agents. They have fallen into the gross but common error of confounding the unusual with the abstruse. .But it is by these deviations from tho plane ofthe ordinary that reason feels its way, ifat all, in its search for the true. In investigations such as we are now pursuing, it shouldnot beso muchasked ' what has occurred,' as 'what has occurred that has never occurredbefore.' Infact, the facilitywith which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent insolu bility in the eyes oftho police."

I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment.

MURDE11S IN THE HUE JIOUGUE.

10l

" I am now awaiting," continued he, looking toward the door ofour apartment "I am now awaiting a per son who, although perhaps not the perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measure implicated in their perpetration. Ofthe worst portion of the crimes committed it is probable that he is innocent. Ji hope that I am right in this supposition ; for upon it I build my expectation ofreading the entire riddle. I look for the man here in this room every moment. It is true that he may not arrive, but the probability is that he will. Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols, and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their use."

I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did or believing what I heard,while Dupin went on,verymuch as if in a soliliquy. I have already spoken of his ab stractmanneratsuchtimes. Hisdiscoursewasaddressed to myself; but his voice, although by no means loud, had that intonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a great distance. His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall.

" That the voices heard in contention," he said, "by the party upon the stairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully proved by the evidence. This relieves us ofall doubt upon the question whether the old lady could have firstdestroyed the daughter, and afterward have committed suicide. I speak of this point chicflyforthesakeofmethod; forthestrengthofMadame l'Espanaye ^vould have been utterly unequal to the taskofthrustingherdaughter'scorpseupthe chimney,as it was found; and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirelyprecludethe idea ofself-destruction. Murder, then, has been committed by some third party; and the voices of this third party were those heard in contention. Let me now advert Jiotto_the whole testi mony respecting these voices but to what waspeculiar in that tesffiiohyjl Did you observe anything peculiar SdouTi!?"^'

MUHDERS IN THE HUE MORGUE.

.'''I remarked that,.while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that of a Frenchman, there was much;disngrocment in regard to the shrill, or,ns ono individual termed it, tho harsh voice. '."--- -' ....S'lThdt was'the evidence itself," said Dupin, ''but it was'not the peculiarity ofthe evidence. You have observeotnothing distinctive. .Yet there was somethingto beobserved. Thewitnesses)as you remark,agreedabout thegruffvoice; theywerehereunanimous. Butinregard to the.shrill voicej tho peculiarity is- not that they dis.agreed but-that, whifu an' Italian,' an Englishman^ Spaniard,' a Hollandor, and'aFrchohman attemptecTto describe it, each onespoko:of.it as that of %foreigner. Each is suro that it was notthe vpico of que .ofhis own countrymen. Each ilikens it not to the 'voice of an individual ofanynationwith whose language he is con versant butthe converse.' The Frenchman supposes it the voice of a Spaniard,, and ' might have distinguished some.words had he been acquainted- with the Spanish.' The Dutchman maintains it to have been that of a Frenchman; but we find it stated that, 'notunderstand ing French, this witness was examined through an inter preter.' TheEnglishman thinks it the voice ofaGerman, and ' does not understand German.' The Spaniard ' is sure' that it was that ofan Englishman, but 'judges by tho intonation' altogether, i' as he has no knowledge of the English.' The Italian belioves it the voice of a Russian,but 'hasnever conversedmith a nativeqflhtssia.' A second Frenchman differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive thatthovoico was that of an Italian; but, not being cognisant of that tongue, is, like the Spaniard, 'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangely unusual must that voice have really been about which such testimony as this could have been elicited ! in whose tones, even, denizens ofthe five great divisions of Europe could recognise nothing familiar ! You willsay that it might have been tho voice of an Asiatic of an African. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound inParis,

MURDERS IN THE RUE

MOUGUE. 103 but, -without denying the infcrenco, I will now merely call your attention to three points, The voice is termed by one witness ' harsh rather than shrill.' It is repre sented by two others to have been ' quick and unequal.' No words "-no sounds resembling words were by any witness mentioned as distinguishable.

" I knownot," continued Dupin, "whatimpression I may have made, so far, upon your own understanding : but I do not hesitate to say, that legitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony the portion respecting the gruffand shrillvoices are in themselves sufficient to engender a suspicion which should give di rection to all fartherprogress in the investigation of the mystery, I said 'legitimate deductions ;' but mymean ing is not thus fully expressed. I designed to imply thatthe deductions arc the sole proper ones, andthatthe suspicion arises inevitably from them as the single result. What the suspicion is, howevcri I will not sayjust yet. I merely wish you to bearin mind that, with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give a definite form a cer tain tendency to make inquiries in the chamber.

"Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. "What shall we first seek here ? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It is not' too much to say, that neither of us believe in.'preternatural events. Madame and Mademoiselle l'Espanayo were not destroyed by spirits. The doom of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how f Fortu nately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and that mode musl lead us to a definite decision. Let us examine, each by each, the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins were in the room where Mademoiselle l'Espanaye was found, or at least in the room adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is, then, only from these two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in every direction. No secret issues could have escaped

MUHDERS IN THE RUE 1IOHCJUE.

their vigilance. But, not trusting to their eyes, I ex amined with myown. There were,then, no secretissues. Roth doors leadingfromthe rooms into the passage were securely locked, with thekeys inside. Letus turn to the chimneys. These, although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet ahove the hearths, will not admit, throughout the extent, the body ofalarge cat. The im possibility ofegress, by means already stated, being thus absolute,we are reducedto the windows. Through those of the front room no one could have escaped without notice from the crowd in the street. The murderers must have passed, then, through those ofthe back room. Now,broughtto thisconclusion in so unequivocalaman ner as we are, it is notour part, asrcasoners, to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that these apparent ' impossibilities' are, in reality, not such.

" There are-two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed byfurniture, andTs whollyvisible. The lower portion of the other is hidden from view by the head ofthe unwieldy bedstead which is thrust close up against it. The former was found securely fastened from within. It resisted the utmost force ofthose who endeavoured to raise it. A large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examining the other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise this sash failed also. The police were now entirely satisfied that egress hud not been in these directions. And there/ore itwas thought a matter ofsupererogation to withdraw the nails, and open the windows.

"Myown examinationwassomewhatmoreparticular, and was so for the reason I have just given ; because here it was, I knew, that all apparent impossibilities must be proved to be not such in reality.

" I proceeded to thinkthus dposteriori. The mur derers did escape from one of these windows. This

MURDERS IN THE RUE

MORGUE. 105

being so, they could not have re-fastened the sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened ; the con sideration which put a stop, through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened. They must, then, have the power offastening themselves. Therewas no escape fromthis conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement, withdrew the nail with some difficulty, and attemptedto raise the sash. Itresisted all my efforts, as I hudanti cipated. A concealed spring must, I now knew, exist; andthis corroboration ofmy idea convinced mc that my premises, at least,were correct, however mysterious still appeared the circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soon brought to light the hidden spring. I pressed it, and,satisfied with the discovery, forbore to upraise the sash.

" I nowreplaced the nail, andregarded itattentively. A person passing out through this window might have rcelosed it, and the spring would have caught; but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusion was plain, and again nan-owed in the field of my investiga tions. The assassins_»»a< have escaped Uirpuglutbc olhcmrmdow. Supposing, then, the sprmgs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there must be found a difference between the nails, or at leastbetween the modes of their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I looked over the head-board minutely atthe second casement. Passing my hand down behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring, which was, as I had supposed, identical in charactei with its neighbour. I now looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently fitted in the same manner ; driven in nearly up to the head.

" You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must have misunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I had not been once ' at fault.' The scent had never for an instant been lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain.

E*

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

I had traced the secret to its ultimate result^and that result was the nail. It had,T say, in everyrespect, the appearance ofits fellow in the other window ; but this factwas an absolutenullity (conclusive as it mightseem to be)when campared with the consideration that here, at this point, terminated the clue. ' There must be something wrong,' I said, 'about the nail.' I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter ofan inch ofthe shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet-hole, where it'had been broken off. The fracture was an old one (for itsedgeswere incrustcd withrust), and had apparentlybeenaccomplished bythe blow of a hammer,'which hadpartially imbedded, in the top ofthe;bottom sash, the head portion ofthe nail. I now carefullyreplacedthis head portion in the indenta tion whence I had taken it, and the resemblance to a perfect nail was complete ; the fissure was invisible.

Pressing the spring, I gently raised the sash for a few inches ; the head went up with it, remainingfirm inits bed. I closed the window, and the semblance of the whole nail was again perfect.

" The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped through the window whicliTooted upon the bed. Dropping of its own"accWd~upon~lIis_ exfff (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fas tened by the spring; and it was the retention of this spring which had been mistaken by the police for thaT~ ofthe nail; farther inquiry being thus considered un necessary.

" The next question is that of the mode ofdescent. Upon this point I had been satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About five feet and a half from the casement in question there runs a lightningrod. From this rod it would have been impossible for any one to reach the -window itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, that the shutters of the fourth storey were of the peculiar kind called by Parisian carpentersferrades, a kind rarely employed at

MURDERS IN 1'IIE RUE MORGUE.

107

the present day, . but frequently seen .upon very old mmisions at Lyons and Bordeaux. They are in :the form of an ordmary door (a single, not a folding-door), except that the lower halfis'latticed or worked in open trellis, thus affording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance these shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them from the rear of the house,;they were both about'halfopen, that is to say, they stood off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the police, as well as myself, ex amined the backofthe tenement ; but, if so, in looking at these ferrades, in the line of their breadth (as they must have done), they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events, failed to take it into due consideration. In fact, having once satisfied them selves that no egress could have been made in this quarter,theywould naturallybestowhere avery cursory examination. It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the window at the headof the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feetofthe lightning-rod. It was also evident.that, by exertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an entrance into the window,. from the rod, might have been thus effected. By reaching to .the distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter open to its whole extent) a robber might have taken a firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting ;go, then, his hold upon the rod, placing- his- feet securely against thewall, and springing boldly from it, he might have swung the shutter so as to close- it, and, if we imagine the window open at the timfe,.might even haveswung himself into the room. >..,.-. ;

.. "I wish you.to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a very unusual degree of; activity as requisite to success in so hazardous and so-difficult a feat. It: is my design to show.you first, that .the thing jnight possibly have been accomplished ; but, -secondly, and chiefly, I wish to impress upon your understanding the

E* 2

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

very extraordinary, the almost preternatural, character of. that agility which could have accomplished it. "You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that 'to make out my case,' I should rather under value, than insist upon a full estimation of the activity required in this matter. This may be the practice in law, but it is not the usage. of reason. My ultimate object is only the truth. My immediate purpose is to lead- you to place in juxtaposition- that very unusual activity of which I have just spoken.with that very peculiar shrill (or harsh) and unequal voice about whose nationality no two persons could be found to agree, and in whose utterance no syllabification could bodetected."

At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the - meaning of Dupin flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension without power to comprehend ; as men, at times, find them selves upon the brink of remembrance,: without being able, in the end, to remember. My friend went on with his discourse. - i

,'^.You will see," he said, " that I have shifted the question from the mode of egress to that of ingress. It was mydesign to convey the idea thatboth were effected in! the same manner, at.the same point. Let us now revert to the interior of the room. . Let us survey the appearances here. The drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled; although.many articles of apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess a; very silly one and no more. How,aro we.to know that the.articles found in the drawers were not.all these drawers had originally con tained? Madame l'Espanayo and her daughter lived an exceedingly retired life, saw no company, seldom went out, had little use for changes of habiliment. Those found, were at least of as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief had taken any, why did he not take the best why did ho not take all? In a word, .why did he abandon four

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

109 thousand francs in gold to encumber himself Avith a bundle of linen? The gold was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from your thoughts the blun dering idea of motive, engendered in the brains of the police by that portion of the evidence which speaks of money delivered at the doorof the house. Coincidences ten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder committed within three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all of us every hour of our lives, without attracting even momentary notice. Coincidences, in.-general, are great stumbling-blocks in thewayofthat class ofthinkers who have been educated to know nothing of the theory of probabilities, that theory to which the most glorious objects of .human research are indebted for the most glorious of illustra tion, In the present instance, had the gold been gone,' "the fact of its delivery three days before would have formed, something more than a coincidence. It would have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But, under the real circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motive of this outrage, we must also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have abandoned his gold and his motive together.

" Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn your"attention that peculiar voice, thai umjMalngility.and that startling absence ofmotive inj> muH^j^iagujiirlyjikflcious as this let us glance"ai the butchpry itwlf. Here is awomanstrangledto death by manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinary assassins employ no such modes ofmurder as this. Least ofall, do they thus dispose of the murdered. In the maimer of thrusting the corpse up thechimney, you will admit thattherewas something excessively oulri something altogether irrcconcileable with our common notions of human action, even when we supposethe actors the most depraved ofmen. Think,

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

too, how great must have been that strength which could' have thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigour of several persons was found barely sufficient to drag it down !

;- "Turn, now, to other indications ofthe employment of a vigour most marvellous. Onthe hearthwere thick tresses verythick tresses ofgreyhumanhair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are aware of the great force necessary in tearing thusfrom the head even twenty or thirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question, as well as myself. Their roots (a hideous sight !)' woro clotted with fragments of the flesh of the scalp sure token of tho prodigious power which had been exertedinuprooting perhapshalf-a-million ofhairs at a time. The throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severedfrom the body: the instrument was a mereTazor. I wish you also to look at the bruttel ferocityof these deods. Of the bruises upon tho body of Madame l'Espayno: 1 do not speak. Monsieur Dumas,' and his worthy coadjutor Monsieur Eticnno, have pronounced that they "were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; and so far these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuse instrument was clearly the stone pavement' in the yard, upon which the victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the bod. This idea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the same reason that the breadth ofthe shutters escaped them ; because, by tho affair of the nails, their perceptionshad been hermetically sealed against the possibility ofthe windows having ever been opened at alL ' " ' '- '

' ""'If now, 'in' addition to' all these things.'you have properlyreflectedupon the odd disorderofthe chamber, we;,have gone'so far as to combine"the ideaofan agility astounding, a; strength' 'superhuman, a ferocit)' brutal, a butcheiy without motive, a grote&querie in horror abso lutely alien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the cars of men of many nations, and devoid of all

MURDERS IN TIIK

RUE MORGUE. HI distinct or intelligible syllabification. What result, then, has ensued? What impression have I made upon your fancy?"

I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. " A madman," I said, " has done this deed some raving maniac, escaped from a neighbouring Maison de Sante."

"In some respects," he replied, "your idea is not irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of some nation ; and their language, however incoherent in its words, has always the coherence of syllabifica tion. Besides, the hair of a madman is not such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from therigidly-clutched fingersof Madame l'Espanaye. Tell me what you can make ofit."

"Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved, "this hair is most unusual this is no human hair!"

" I have not asserted that it is," said he ; " but, be fore we decide this point, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced upon this paper. It is tifac-simile drawing of what has been described in one portion ofthe testimony ' as dark bruises, and deep in dentations of finger-nails ' upon the throat of Mademoi selle l'Espanayc ; and in another (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne), as a ' scries of livid spots, evidently the impression offingers.' "

" Youwdl perceive," continued myfriend,spreading out the paper upon the table before us, "that the draw ing gives theidea ofafirm and fixed hold. There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has retained possibly until thedeathofthevictim the fearfulgrasp by which it originallyembedded itself. Attempt, now, toplace all your fingers, at the same time,in the respective impres sions as you sec them." ... i -.

I made the attempt in vain.

" We are possibly not giving this matter a fair

MURDERS

IN THE RUE MORGUE.

trial," he said. "The paper is spread out upon a plane surface; but the human throat is cylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of which is about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try.the experiment again."

I did ho ; but the difficulty was even more obvious thanbefore. "This," I said, "is the mark of no human hand."

"Read now," replied Dupin, "this passage from Cuvier."

It was a minute anatomical and generally descrip tive account ofthe large fulvous ourang-outang of the Kust Indian Islands. The gigantic stature, '.ho pro digious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of these mammalia are suffi cientlywell known to all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once.

"The description of the digits," said I, as I made an end ofreading, " is in exact accordance with the draw ing. I see that no animal but an ourang-outang, ofthe species here mentioned,couldhave impressedthe inden tations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too, is identical in character with that ofthe beast of Cuvier. Hut I cannot possibly comprehendtheparti culars of this frightful mystery. Besides, there were two voices hoard in contention ; and one of them was unquestionably the voice of a Frenchman."

" True ; and you will remember an expression attri buted almostunanimously, by the evidence, to this voice the expression, ' Mon Dieu!' This, under the circum stances, has beenjustly characterised by one of the wit nesses (Montani, the confectioner), as an expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Uponthese two words, therefore, I have mainly built my hopes of a full solution of tho riddle. A Frenchman was cognisantI ofthe murder. It is possible indeed it is far more] than probable that he was innocent of all parti- I cipation in the bloody transactions which took place. |

MURDERS IN THE HUE MORGUE.

113

U'he ourang-outang may have escaped from him. He nay have traced it to the chamber;.but, under the agiiating circumstances which ensued, he could never have Recaptured it. It is still at large. I will not pursue these guesses for I have no right to call them moresince the shades ofreflection upon which they are based arc scarcely ofsufficient depth to be appreciable by my own intellect, and since I could not pretend to make them intelligible to the understanding of another. We will call them guesses, then, and speakof themas such.

If the Frenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose, innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement, which I left lust night, upon our return home, at the office of ' Le Monde' (a paper devoted to the shipping interest, and much sought by sailors), will bring him to our residence."

He handed me a paper, and I read thus :

Caught In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the inst. (the morning of the murder), a very large tawny ourang-ontang of the Bornese species. The owner (who is ascertained to be asailor belonging to a Maltese vessel), may have the animal again, upon iden tifying it satisfactorily, andpaying afew charges arising from its captureand keeping. CallatNo. , Rue , Faubourg St. Germain, au troisiemc.

" How was it possible," I asked, " that you should know the man to be a sailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?"

" I do not know it," said Dupin. " I am not sure of it. Here, however, is a small piece of ribbon, which, from its form, and from its greasy appearance, has evi dently been used in tying the hair in one of those long i/ucues ofwhich sailors arc so fond. Moreover, this knot is one which few besides sailors can tic, and is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either

114

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong ia my induction from this, ribbon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in saying what I did in the advertisement.

If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I have been misled by some circumstance into which he willnottake the trouble to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizant, although innocent ofthe murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying to theadvertisement aboutdemandingtheourang-outang. Ho will reason thus : ' I am innocent ; I am poor; my ourang-outang is of great value to one in my circum stances a fortuno of itself; why should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in the Bois de Boulogne -at a vast distance from the scene of that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a brute beast should have done the deed? The police are at fault they have failed to procure the slightest clue. Should they even trace the animal, it would be impossible to prove mo cognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilt on account of that cognizance. Above all, / am knoion. The adver tiser designates me as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limit his knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so great value, which it is known- that I possess, I shall render the animal at least liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attract attention either to.myself or to the beast. I will answer the advertisement, get the ourang-outaug, and keep it close until this matter has blown over.' "

At this moment we heard a step upon tho stairs.

. " Be ready," said Dupin, " with )'our pistols, but neither use them nor show them until at a signal from myself." ; . -, -.

The front door ofthe house-had been left open> and the visitor had entered, without ringing, and advanced several steps upon the staircase.. Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently, we heard him descend

MURWEKS IN THIS RUE MORGUE. 115

ing. Dupiii was moving quickly to the door, when we again beard him coming up. He did not turn back n second time, but stepped up with decision, nnd rapped at the door of our chamber.

" Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.

A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently a tall, stout, and muscular-lookingperson, with a certain dare devil expression of countenance, not altogether unpre possessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and bade us " good evening," in French accents, which, although somewhat Ncufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin.

" Sit down, my friend," said' Dupin. " I suppose you have called about the ourang-outang. Upon my word, I almost envy you the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose him to be ?"

The sailor drew a long breath, with the air ofa man relieved of some intolerable burden, and then replied, in an assured tone :

" I have no way of telling ; but he can't be more tlum four or live years old. Have you got him here ?"

" Oh, no ; wo had no conveniences for keeping him here. Ho is at a livery-stable in tho Hue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Of course, you are prepared to identify the property?"

" To be sure I am, sir."

" I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin.

" I don't mean thatyou should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir," said the man " couldn't expect it. Am very willing to payareward forfinding the animal ; that is to say, anything in reason."

" Well," replied myfriend, " that is all veryfair, to be sure. Let me think what should I have ? Oh ! I

116

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

will tell you. My reward shall be this you shall give me all the information in your power about these mur ders in the Hue Morgue."

Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and vcry quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom, and placed it, with out the least flurry, upon the table.

The sailor's face flushed up as ifhe were straggling with suffocation. He started to his feet and grasped his cudgel ; but the next moment ho fell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenance of death itself. lie spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom ofmy heart.

" My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, " you are alarming yourselfunnecessarily; you arc, indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the honour of a gentleman and ofa Frenchman that we intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocities in the Hue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some measure impli cated in them. From what I have already said, you must know that I have had means of information about this matter means of which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have avoided nothing, cer tainly, which renders you culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reason for concealment. Oil the other -hand, you are bound by every principle of honour to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned, charged with that crime of which you can point out the perpetrator."

The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, while Dupin uttered these words ; but his original boldness of bearing was all gone.

'' So help mc God," said he, after a brief pause, " I

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.

117 will tell you all I know about this affair ; but I do not expectyou to believe one half I Bay I should be a fool, indeed, if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I -will make a clean breast, if I die for it."

What he stated was in substance this: He had lately made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a companion had captured the ourangoutang. This companion dying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After great trouble, occa sioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive during the home voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely athis own residence in Paris,where, not to attract towardhimselfthe unpleasantcuriosityofhisneighbours, he kept it carefully secluded, until such time as it should recover from a wound in the foot, receivedfrom a splin ter on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it.

Returning home from some sailors' frolic on the night, or rather in the morning ofthe murder, he found the beast occupying his own bedroom, intowhich ithad broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, as was thought, securely confined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving, inwhich it had no doubtpreviouslywatchedits master throughtho key-hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weapon, in the possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had been accustomed, how ever, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a whip ; and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, the ourang-outang sprang at once through the door of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence through a window, unfortunately open, into the street.

The Frenchman followed in despair the ape, razor still in hand, occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, until the latter had nearly

M.URDERS IN THE HUE MORGUE.

come up with it. It then again made oil". In this man ner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. In passing down an alloy in the roar of thoRuo Morgue, the fugitive's attention was arrested by a light gleaming from the open window ofMadame l'Espanaye's chamber,-in the fourth storey ofher house. Rushing to the building, itperceived-the lightning-rod, clambered up with inconceivable agility, grasped tho shutter, which was thrown fully hack against the wall, and, by its means, swung itself directly upon the head board of tho bed. The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again by the ourang-outnng as it entered the room.

The sailor, in the meantime, was.both rejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes of now re-capturing the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap into whichithadventured, exceptbythe rod, where it might be intercepted as it came down. On tho other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to what it might doin the house. This latter reflection urged tho man still to follow the fugitive. Alightning-rod is ascended withoutdifficulty,especiallybya sailor; butwhenhe had arrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career was stopped: the most that he could accom plish was, to reach over so as to obtain a glimpse ofthe interior ofthe room. Atthis glimpse,he nearlyfellfrom his hold through excess ofhorror. Now itwas thatthose hideous shrieks arose upontho nightwhichhad startled from slumber the inmates ofthe Hue Morgue. Madame l'Espanaye and her daughter, habited in their nightclothes, had apparentlybeen occupied in arranging some papers in the iron chest already mentioned, which had beenwheeled into the middle ofthe room. It was open, and its contents laybeside it on the floor. The victims must have been sitting with their backs towardthewin dows ; and from the time elapsing between the ingress ofthe beast and the screams, it seems probable that it

MURDERS IN THE RUE

MORGUE. 118 was not immediately perceived. The flapping-to of the shutter would naturally have been attributed to the wind.

As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized Madame l'Espanayebythehair, which was loose, as she hadbeen combingit,andwasnourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of the motions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate -and motionless; she had swooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady, during which the hair was torn from herfliead, had the effect of changing the probably pacific purpose ofttke ourang-outang into those of wrath. With one deter-' mined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her body. The sight of blood 'inflamed its anger into frenzy. Gnashing its teeth, andflashing fire from its eyes,it flew upon the body of the girl, and im bedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp until she expired. Its wandering and wild-glances fell at this moment upon the head of the bed, over which; the face of its master, rigid with'horror, wasjust:dis cernible. The fury of the beast, which no doubt-still bore in mind the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear. Conscious ofhaving-deserved punishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody deeds, and skipped about the chamber m an agony .of nervous agitation ; throwing dawn and breaking the furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it first seized the corpse ofthe daughter, and thrustitup the chimney, as itwas found ; then that of the oldlady,which it immediatelyhurledthrough the window headlong.

Asthe ape approached the casement with its muti lated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to "the rod, and, rather gliding thanclambering down it,hurried at once home, dreading the consequences of the butchery, and gladly abandoning, inhis terror,all solicitude about the fate of the ourang-outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase werethe Frenchman's exclama

·

MURDERS IN THE llUE MORGUF.:

tioni,ofhorrorandaffright,commingledwiththefil.'ndii;h jabbt•ringsofthebrute.

I have scarcely anytl1ing to nclcl. 'l'hl• our:mg-• outnng must hnvc escaped from the chnmbl•r by the.

MUKDGKS IN T!IE HUE

MOllUt'E. 121 rod, just before the breaking of the door. It must have closed the window as it passedthrough it. Itwas subsequently caught by theowner himself, who obtained for it a large sum at the Jardin des Plantes. Le Bon was instantlyreleased,upon our narrative ofthe circum stances, with some comments from Dupin, at thebureau of the Perfect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed towards my friend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two about the propriety of every person minding his own business.

" Let him, talk" said Dupiu, whohadnotthoughtit necessary to reply. " Let him discourse ; it will ease his conscience. I am satisfiedwith havingdefeatedhim in his own castle, jjfcycrtheless. that he failed in the solution of.the_mYstcry is by no means that matter for Avtmdcr which he.supposes it; for, in truth,.oui:-friend tJicj-'rcfcct Ts somewhattoocunning to be profound., Li, Tijs~wisdoni.u. iia.*'to»ifi&t. It is all hcacT:jujiLao.body., like the pictures of the GfodaessHCavcrna or, at best, all head and shoulders, like acodfish. But he is a good creature after all. I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by which he has attained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has ' dinier ce qui est, etd'expliquercequin'estpas' "(ofdenyingthatwhich is, and of explaining that which is not).*

* r.ousscnu Nouvcllc Jlcloisc.

\)t ftltjstenj rf Jfiow JUget.*-

HEN,' in an article entitled "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," I en deavoured, about a yearago, to depict some very remarkable features in the mentalcharacterofmyfriend,the Che valier C. Augustc Dupin, it did not occur to me that I should ever resume the subject. This depicting of cha racter constituted my design, and this design was tho roughly fulfilled in the wild train of circumstances brought toinstanceDupin'sidiosyncrasy. I mighthave adduced other examples, but I should have proved no more. Late events, however, in their surprising de velopment, have startled mo into some further details, which will carry with them the air of extorted con fession. Hearing what Ihave lately heard, itwould be indeed strange should I remainsilent in regard to what I both heard and saw so long ago.

* In the present narrative the author, under pretence of relating fatethe of a Parisian grisntte, has followed in minute dotail the essential offacts a murder which wus committed in the vicinity of New York, and occasionedwhich an intense and long-enduring excitement, and the attendingmystery which bad remained unsolved at the period when the articlepresent was originally written and published, viz., Nov. The1812. "Mystery of Mary RogeV' was composed at a distance from scenethe of the atrocity, and with no other means of investigation than newspapersthe afforded. Thus much escaped the writer of which he havecould availed himself had ho been upon the spot, and visited the Itlocalities. may not be improper to record, nevertheless, that the confessions twoof persons (one of them the Madame Deluo of the narrative), made, differentat periods, long subsequent to tint publication, continued in notfull, only the general conclusion, lint absolutely all the chief hypothetical details by which that conclusion was attained.

THE MYSTERY OF MA1UE EOG1T, 133

Uponthe winding up ofthe tragedy involved iu the deaths of Madame l'Espanaye and her daughter, the Chevalier dismissedtheaffair at oncefromhis attention, andrelapsed into his old habits ofmoodyreverie. Prone at all times to abstraction, I readily fell in with his humour; and, continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg Saint Germain, we gave the Future to the winds, and slumberedtranquilly in the Present,weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

Put these dreams were not altogether uninterrupted. It may readily be supposed that the part played by my friend in the drama at the Hue Morgue had not failed ofits impressionuponthe fancies ofthe Parisian police. With its emissaries the name of Dupin had grown into a household word. The simple character ofthose in ductionsbywhichhe had disentangledthemysterynever having been explained even to the Prefect, or to any other individual thanmyself, of course it is not surpris ing that the affair was regarded as little less thanmira culous, or that the Chevalier's analytical abilities ac quired for him the credit of intuition. His frankness would have led him to disabuse every inquirer of such prejudice; but his indolent humour forbade all farther agitation of a torjic whose interest to himselfhad long ceased. It thus happened that he found himself thcynosure of the policial eyes ; and the cases were not few in which attempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture. One ofthe mostremarkableinstances was that of the murder of a young girl named Marie Roget.

Thiseventoccurred abouttwo yearsafterthe atrocity in the Rue Morgue. Marie, whose Christianandfamily name willatonce arrestattention fromtheirresemblance to those ofthe unfortunate " cigar girl," was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Roget. The father had died during the child's infancy, and, from the period of hisdeath untilwithin eighteen months before the assas sination which forms the subject of our narrative, the

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.

mother and daughter had dwelt together in the Hue Pavee Saint Andree ; Madame there keeping apension, assisted by Marie. Affuirs went on thus until the latter had attained her twenty-second year, when her great beautyattracted the notice of a perfumer, who occupied one of the shops in the basement of the Palais Royal, i i,i

and whose custom lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers infesting that neighbourhood. Monsieur Le Blanc was not unaware of the advantages to be de rived from the attendance of the fair Marie in his per fumery, and his liberal proposals were accepted eagerly by the girl, although with somewhat more ofhesitation by Madame.

The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realised,

TIIK

MYSTKttY OF MARIE

ROGF.T. ISO and his rooms soon became notorious through the charms of the sprightly grisetle. She had been in his employabout a yearwhen heradmirerswerethrown into confusion by her sudden disappearance from the shop.

Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to account for her ab sence, and Madame Roget was distracted with anxiet)and terror. The public papers immediately took up the theme, and the police were upon the point of making serious investigations,when, one fine morning, after the lapse of a week, Marie, in good health, butwith a some what saddened air, made herre-appearance at her usual counter in the perfumery. All inquiry, except that of a private character, was of course immediately hushed.

Monsieur Le Blanc professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with Madame, replied to all questions that the last week had been spent at the house of a relation in the country. Thus the affair died away, and was gene rally forgotten; for the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final adieu to the perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother's residence in the Rue Pavec Saint Andree.

It was about five months after this return home that her friends were alarmed by her sudden disap pearance for the second time. Three days elapsed, and nothing was heard of her. On the fourth, her corpse was found floating in the Seine, near the shore which is opposite the Quartier of the Rue Saint Andree, and at the point not very far distant from the secluded neighbourhood ofthe Barrierc du Roule.

The atrocity of this murder (for it was at once evi dent that murder had been committed), the youth and beauty of the victim, and, above all, her previous noto riety, conspired to produce intense excitement in the minds ofthe sensitive Parisians. I can call to mind no similar occurrence producing so general and so intense an effect. For several weeks, in the discussion of this one absorbing themd, even the momentous political topics of the day were forgotten. The Prefect made

138

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE IIOOET.

unusual exertions ; and the powers of the whole Pari sian polico were, of course, tasked to the utmost ex tent. . (._- - i.,:

Upon the first discovery of the corpse,- it was not supposed that the murderer would be able to elude, for more than averybriefperiod, the inquisition which was immediately set onfoot. Itwasnot until the expiration of a week that it was deemed necessary to offer a re ward ; and even thenthis rewardwas limited to a thou sandfranes. Inthemeantimetheinvestigationproceeded with vigour, ifnot always withjudgment, and numerous individuals were examined to no purpose ; while, owing to the continual absence of all clue to the mystery, the popular excitementgreatly increased. Atthe end ofthe tenth day, it was thought advisable to double the sum originally proposed ; and, at length, the second week having elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice which always exists in Paris against the policehavinggivenventtoitselfinseveralseriousimetttes, thePrefecttookituponhimselftoofferthesumoftwenty thousandfranes " fortheconviction oftho assassin ;" or, if moro than one should provo.to have been implicated " for the conviction of any one ofthe assassins." In tho proclamation setting forth this reward a full pardonwas promised to any accomplice who should come forward in evidence against his fellow; and to the whole was appended, wherever it appeared, the private placard of a committee ofcitizens, offering ten thousand franes, in addition to the amount proposed by the Prefecture. The entirereward thus stood at:no less than thirtythousand franes, which will be regarded as an extraordinary sum when we consider the humble condition ofthe girl,and the great frequency in large cities of such atrocities as the one described.

No one doubted nowthatthe mysteryofthis murder would be immediatelybrought to light. But although, in one or two instances, arrests were made which pro mised elucidation, yet nothing was elicited which could

Till! MYSTERY OF MAIUE KOGET.

127 implicatethepartiessuspected; andtheyweredischarged forthwith. Strange as it may appear, the third week i'ro,m the discovery of the body had passed and passed withoutanylightbeing thrown uponthesubject before even a rumour of the events which had so agitated the public mind reached the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches which had absorbed our whole attention, it had been nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad or received a visitor, or more than glanced at the leading political articles in one of the daily papers. The first intelligence of the murder was brought us by G in person. He calledupon us earlyinthe afternoon ofthe thirteenthofJuly, 18 ,and remained with us until late in the night. He had been piqued by the failure of all his endeavours to ferret out the assassins. His reputation so he said, withapecu liarly Parisian air was at stake. Even his honourwas concerned. The eyes ofthe publiowere upon him; and there was reallyno sacrifice which he would not be wil ling to make for the development' of the rnystery. > He concluded a somewhat droll speech with a compliment uponwhat he was pleasedtotermthe tact ofDupin,and made him a direct, and certainly a liberal proposition, theprecisenature ofwhichIdo hotfeelmyselfatliberty to disclose, but which has no bearing upon the proper subject ofmy narrative.

The complimentmyfriend rebutted as best he could, but the proposition he accepted at once, although its advantageswere altogetherprovisional. Thispointbeing settled, the Prefect broke forth into explanations of his ownviews,interspersing them withlong commentsupon the evidence ; ofwhich latter we were not yet in pos session. He discoursedmuch, and, beyond doubt, learn edly; .while I hazarded an occasional suggestion as the nightwore drowsily away. Dupin, sitting steadily in his accustomed arm-chair,was the embodimentofrespectful attention. He wore spectacles during the whole inter view; and an occasional glance beneath their green

133

THE MrSTEKY OF MARIE ROGET.

glassessufficed to convince me that lie slept not the less soundly, because silently, throughout the seven or eight leaden-footed hours which immediately preceded the departure of the Prefect.

In the morning I procured, at the Prefecture, a full report of all the evidence elicited, and at the various

newspaper-offices a copy of every paper in which, from first to last,hadbeen published any decisive information in regard to this sad affair. Free from all that was positively disproved, this mass of information stood thus :

Marie Hoget left the residence of hermother, in the Hue Pavec St. Andree, about nine o'clock in the morn ing of Sunday, Junethetwenty-second, 18 . In going out she gave notice to a Monsieur Jacques St. Eustache, and to him only, of her intention to spendthe daywith

THE MYSTERV OF MARIE IIOOKT.

129

an aunt who resided in the Rue des Dromes. The Rue des DrSmes is a shortand narrow butpopulous thorough fare, not far from the banks of the river, and at a dis tance of some two miles, in the most direct course pos sible, from the pension of Madame Rogfit. St. Eustache was the accepted suitor of Marie, and lodged, as well as took his meals, at the pension. He was to have gone for his betrothed at dusk, and to have escorted her home. In the afternoon, however, it came on to rain heavily ; and, supposing that she would remain all night at her aunt's (as she had done under similar circumstances before), he did not think it necessary to keep his pro mise. As night drew on, Madame Roget (who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of age) was heard to ex press a fear " that she should never see Marie again ;" nut this observation attracted little attention at the time.

On Monday it was ascertained that the girl had not been to the Rue des Dr&mes; and when the day elapsed without tidings of her, a tardy search was instituted at several points in the city and its environs. It was not, however, until the fourth day from the period of her dis appearance that anything satisfactorywas ascertained re specting her. Onthis day(Wednesday, the twenty-fifthof *June) a Monsieur Beauvais, who, with a friend, had been making inquiries for Marie noar the Barriere du Roule, on the shore of the Seine which is opposite the Ruo Pavee St. Andrde, was informed that a corpse had just been towed ashore by some fishermen, who had found it floating in the river. Upon seeing the body, Beauvais, after some hesitation, identified it as that of the per fumery-girl. His friend recognised it more promptly.

The face was suffused with dark blood, some of which issued from the mouth. No foam was seen, as in the case of the merely drowned. There was no dis colouration in the cellular tissue. About the throat were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms were bent over on the chest and were rigid. The right hand was 5. F

ISO THE MYSTERV OF MARIE ROOET.

clenched, the left partially open. On the left wrist were two circular excoriations, apparently the effect of ropes, or of a rope in more than one volution. A part of the right wrist also was much chafed, as well as the hack throughout its extent, but more especially at the shoulder-blades. In bringing the body to the shore the fishermen had attached it to a rope; but none of the ex coriations had been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was much swollen. There were no cuts apparent, or bruises which appeared the effect of blows. A piece of lace was found tied so tightly around the neck as to be hidden from sight ; it was completely buried in the flesh, and was fastened by a knot, which layjust under the left ear. This alone would havo sufficod to produco death. The medical testimony spoke confidently of the virtuous character of the deceased. She had been sub jected, it said, to brutal violence. Thecorpse was in such condition when found that there could have been no difficulty in its recognition by friends.

The dress was much torn and otherwise disordered. In the outer garment a slip, about a foot wide, had been torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist, but not torn off. It was wound three times round the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back. The dress im mediately beneath the frock was of fine muslin; and from this a slip eighteen inches wide had been torn en tirely out torn very evenly and with great care. It was found around her neck, fitting loosely, and secured with a hard knot. Over this muslin slip and the slip of lace the strings of a bonnet wero attached, the bonnet being appended. The knot by which the strings of the bonnet were fastened was not a lady's, but a slip or sailor's knot.

After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as usual, taken to the Morgue (this formality being super fluous), but hastilyinterred not far from thespot atwhich it was brought ashore. Through the exertions of Beauvais the matter was industriously hushed up, as far as

TUB

MYSTEIVY OF MARIE

ItOOET. 131 possible ; aud several days bad elapsed before anypublic emotion resulted. A weekly paper, however, at length took up the theme ; the corpse was disinterred, and a re-examination instituted ; but nothing was elicited be yond what has been already noted. The clothes, how ever, were now submitted to the mother and friends of the deceased, and fully identified as those worn by the girl upon leaving home.

Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Seve ral individuals were arrested and discharged. St. Eustache fell especially under suspicion; and he failed at first to give an intelligible account of his whereabouts during the Sunday on which Marie left home. Subse quently, however, he submitted to Monsieur G , affidavits accounting satisfactorily for every hour of the dayin question. Astime passed and no discovery ensued, a thousand contradictory rumours were circulated, and .journalists busied themselves in suggestions. Among these, the one which attracted the most notice was the idea that Marie Hoget still lived; that the corpse found in the Seine was that of some other unfortunate. It will be properthat I submit to the reader some passages which embody the suggestion alluded to. These pas sages are literal translations from L'EtoiU, a paper con ducted in general with much ability.*

" Madomolaollo ltoget loft Iior molhor's hotted on Sunday Junomorning, Ute twenty-suonnd, 18 , wiUi the ostensible purpose of going 1.0 hersee aunt or somo other oonnoxion in the K110 dee Drdtnes. From hourthat nobody is proved to have eeon hor. There is no traoe or tidings liorof at all. * * * Thoro has no person whatever oome soforward, far, who saw her at all on that day, nfler she loft hor mother's *door. * * * Now, though we have no evidence that Marie Roget was theIn land of the living after nine o'olock on Sunday, June the second,twentywe have proof that up to that hour she was alive. On noonWednesday at twelve a female body was discovered afloat on the shore of Earrierethe. du Ronle. This was, even if we presume that Marie Rog6t thrownwas into the river within three hours after she left her mother'e onlyhouse, three days from the time she left her home three days to an Buihour. it is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder were ooinmitted on body,her could huvo been consummated soon enough to have enabled hor

* "All the following extracts, assumed to be quoted from the newspapers,Paris are exact transcript of articles which appeared in the YorkNew journals. The names of people and places only have been changed.

MYSTERY

murderers to throw the body into the river before midnight. Those arewho guilty of auoh horrid Crimea choose darkness rather than light. * *-* * Thus wo see that if the body found in the river was that of Roget,Marie it could only have been in the water two and a half days, or daysthree at tbo outside. All experience has shown that drowned bodies, bodiesor thrown into tho water immediately after death by violence, fromrequire six to ten daytt for sufficient decomposition to take place to thembring to the top of the water- Even where a cannon is fired over a andcorpse, it rises before at least five or six days' immersion, it sinks again if alone.let New, we ash what was there in this case to cause a departure thefrom ordinary course of nature ? * * * * If the body had been inkept its mangled state on shere until Tuesday night- some trace would foundbe on shore of the murderers. It is a doubtful point, also, thewhether body would be bo soon afloat, even were it thrown in after beenhaving dead two days. And, furthermore, it is exceedingly improbable anythat villains who had committed such a murder as is here supposed havewould. thrown the body in without a weight to sink it, when auoh a tionprecau could so easily have been taken."

The editor here proceeds to argue that the body must have boon in tho water " not throe days merely, but at least five times three days," because it was so far decomposed that Beauvais had great difficulty in recognising it. This latter point, however, was fully disproved. I continue the translation :

" What, then are tho facts on which W. Beauvais says that he has doubtno the body was that of Marie Roget? He ripped up the gown andsleeve, says that he fojind marks which satisfied him of the identity. publicThe generally supposed tho so marks to have oonsisted of some tiondescrip of scars. He rubbed the arm and found hair upon it ; something indefinite,as we think. as can readily be imagined as little conclusive findingas an arm in the sleeve. M. Beauvais did not return that night, sentbut word to Madame Rogut, at seven o'olock on Wednesday evening, that investigationan was still in progress respecting her daughter. If we thatallow Madame Roget, from her age and grief, could not go over (which allowingis a great deal), there certainly must have been some one who havewould thought it worth his while to go over and attend the investigation theif v thought tho body was that of Marie. Nobody went over. There nothingwas said or heard about the matter in the Rue Pavee St. Andree reachedthat evon the occupants of the same building. M. St. Eustacha, lovertho and Intended husband of Marie, who boarded in her mother's deposeshouse, that he did not hear of the discovery of the bodv of his untilintended Ihe noxt morning, when M. Boauvals came into his chamber and told him of it. For an item of news like thla it strikes us it was very received."coolly

In this way the journal endeavoured to create the impression of an apathy on the part of the relatives of Marie, inconsistent with the supposition that these rela tives believed the corpse to be hers. Its insinuations amount to this : that Marie, with the connivance of her friends, had absented herself from the city for reasons involving a charge against her chastity; and that these

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROCKET.

1S3

friends, upon the discovery of a corpse in the Seine, somewhat resembling that of the girl, had availed them selves of the opportunity to impress the public with the belief of her death. But L'Etoile was again over-hasty. It was distinctly proved that no apathy, such as was imagined, existed; that the old lady was exceedingly feeble, and so agitated as to be unable to attend to any duty; that St. Eustache, so far from receiving the news coolly, was distracted with grief, and bore himself so frantically that M. Beauvais prevailed upon a friend and relative to take charge of him, and prevent his attending the examination at thedisinterment. Moreover, although it was stated by L'Etoile that the corpse was re-interred at the public expense, that an advantageous offer of private sepulture was absolutely declined by the family, and that no member of the family attended the ceremo nial although, I say, nil this was asserted by L'Etoile in furtherance of the impression it desired to convey, yet all this was satisfactorily disproved. In a subsequent number of the paper an attempt was made to throw sus picion upon Beauvais himself. The editor says,

" Now, then, a change comes over the matter. Wo are told that on occasion,ono while a Madame B was at Madame Rogct's bouse, M. vais,Beau who wae going out, told her that a genriarmo was expected there, thatand the, Madame B., mast not say anything to the gendarme until returned,he but lot the matter bo for liim. * * * In the present turepos of affairs M. Beauvais appears to have had the wholo matter uplooked in his hond. A single stop oannot 1)0 tnlu-n without M. Beauvais ! gofor, which way you will, jou run against him. * * * For some hereason determined that nobody but himself should havo anything to do with proceedingsthe ; and he has elbowed the male relatives out of the accordingway, to their representations, in a very singular manner. seemsHe to have heon very much averse to permitting the relatives to thesee body."

By the following fact some colour was given to the suspicion thus thrown upon Beauvais. A visitor at-his office, a few days prior to the girl's disappearance, and during the absence of its occupant, had observed a rose in the keyhole of the door, nnd the name " Marie" in scribed upon a slato which hung noar at hand.

The general impression, so far as we were enabled to glean it from the newspapers, seemed to be, that Marie

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROOET

had been the victim of a gang of desperadoes ; that by these she had been borne across the river, maltreated, and murdered. Le Commerciel, however, a print of ex tensive influence, was oarnest in combating this popular idea. I quote a passage or two from its columns :

" We ere persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been on a falso soont, farbo as it has been directed to the Barriere du Roule. It (is thatimpossible a person bo well known to thousands as this young woman was haveshould passed three blocks without some one having seen her ; and any whoone saw her would have remembered it, for she interested all who her.know It was when the streets were full of people when she went *out. * * It-is impossible that she could have gono to the Barriere Rouledu or to the Rue des Dromes without being recognised by a persons;dozen vet no one has come forward who has soen her outside mother'sher door, and there is no evidenoe, oxcopt tho tostlmony concerning her expressed intentions, that she did go out at all. Her gown was boundtorn, ronnd her, and tied; and by that the body was cunlcd as a Ifbundle. the murder had been committed at the Barriere du Roule there havewould been no necessity for any such arrangement. The fact that bodythe was found floating near the Barriere is no proof as to where it thrownwas into the wator. * * * A pieoe of one of the unfortunate petticoats,girl's two feet long and one foot wide, was torn out and tied herunder chin around the back or her head, probably to prevent soreams. wasThis done by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchief."

A day or two before the Prefect called upon us, how ever, some important information reached the police, which seemed to overthrow, at least, the chief portion of Le CommercieVs argument. Two small boys, the sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming among tho woods near the Barriere du Roule, chanced to penetrate a close thicket, within which were three or four large stones, forming a hind of seat, with a back and footstool. On the upper stone lay a white petticoat, on the second a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief were also here found. The handkerchief bore the name of " Mario Rogfit." Fragments of dress were discovered on the brambles around. The earth was trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was every evidence of a struggle. Between the thicket and the river the fences were found taken down, and the ground bore evidence of some heavy burden having been dragged along it. . i

A weekly paper, Le Soleil, had the following com ments upon this discovory comments which merely echoed the sentiment of the whole Parisian press : ' '

TI1E MYSTEnV OF MARIE IIOOET.

135

The things had all evidently been thero nt leant three or four weeks they; were all mildewed down hard with the action of the rain, and togetherstack from mildew. The grass had grown around and over some them.of The silk on the parasol was strong, but the threads of It were togetherrun within. The upper part, where it had been doubled and wasfolded, all mildewed and rotten, and tore on its being opened. * * * piecesThe of her frock torn out by the bushes were about three inches andwide six inches long. One part was the hem of the frock, and it had mendedbeen ; the other piece was part of the skirt, not the hem. They likelooked strips torn off, and were on the thorn-busb, about a foot from ground.the * * * There can be no doubt, therefore, that the spot of appallingthis outrage has been discovered." .

"

Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence ap peared. Madame Deluc testified that she keeps a road side inn not far from the bank of the river, opposite the Barriere du Roule. The neighbourhood is secluded, particularly so. It is the usual Sunday resort of black guards from the city, who cross the river in boats. About three o'clock in the afternoon of the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at the inn, accompanied by a young man of dark complexion. The two remained here for some time. On their departure they took the road to some thick woods in the vicinity. Madame Deluc's attention was called to the dress worn by the girl, on account of its resemblance to one worn by a deceased relative. A scarf was particularly noticed. Soon after the departure of the couple, a gang of mis creants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank without making payment, followed in the route of tho young man and girl, returnod to the inn about dusk, and recrossed the river as if in great haste.

It was soon after dark, upon this same evening, that Madame Deluc, as well as her eldest son, heard the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn. The screams were violent but brief. Madame D. recognised not only the scarf which was found in the thicket, but the dress which was discovered upon the corpse. An omnibus-driver, Valence, now also testified that he saw Marie Kogot cross a ferry on tho Seine, on the Sunday in question, in company with a young man of dark com plexion. Ho (Valence) knew Marie, and could not bo

186

THE

MYSTERY OF MARIE HOGET.

mistaken in her identity. The articles found in the thicket were fully identified by the relatives of Marie.

The items of evidence and information thus collected by myself from the newspapers, at the suggestion of Dupin, embraced only one more point ; but this was a point of seemingly vast consequence. It appears that, immediately after the discovery of the clothes as above described, the lifeless, or nearly lifeless body of St. Eustache, Marie's betrothed, was found in the vicinity of what all now supposed the scene of the outrage. A phial labelled " laudanum," and emptied, was found near him. His breath gave evidence of the poison. He died without speaking. Upon his person was found a letter, briefly stating his love for Marie, with his design of self-destruction.

" I need scarcely tell you," said Dupin, as he finished theperusalofmynotes, "that this is a farmore intricate case than that of the Rue Morgue; from which it differs in one important respect. This is an ordinary,although an atrocious instance of crime. There is nothing pecu liarly outre about it. You will observe that for this reason the mystery has been considered easy, when for this reason it should have been considered difficult, of solution. Thus, at first, it was thought unnecessary to offer a reward. The myrmidons of G were able at once to comprehend how and why such an atrocity might have been committed. Theycould picture to their imaginations a mode many modes, and a motive many motives ; and because it was not impossible that either of these numerous modes and motives could have been the actual one, they have taken it for granted that. one of them must. But the ease with which these variable fancies were entertained, and the very plausi bility which each assumed, should have been understood as indicative rather of the difficulties than of the facili ties which must attend elucidation. I have before observed that it is by prominences above the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels her way, if at all, in her

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.

1J7 search for the true, and that the proper question in cases such as this, is notso much ' what has occurred?' as ' what has occurred that has never occurredbefore?' In the investigations at the house of Madame l'Espanaye,* the agents of G were discouraged and con founded by that very imusualness which, to a properly regulated intellect, wouldhave afforded thesurest omen of success ; while this same intellect might have been plunged in despair at the ordinary character ofall that met the eye in the case of the perfumery-girl, and yet told ofnothing but easy triumph to the functionaries of the Prefecture.

" In the case of Madame l'Espanay and her daughter there was, even at the beginning of our in vestigation, no doubt that murder had been com mitted. The idea of suicide was excluded at once. Here, too, we are freed, at the commencement, from all supposition of self-murder. The body found at the Barriere du Iloule was found under such circumstances as to leave us no room for embarrassment upon this important point. But it has been suggested that the corpse discovered is not thatofthe Marie Hoget forthe conviction of whose assassin, or assassins, the reward is offered, and respecting whom, solely, our agreement has been arranged with the Prefect. We both know this gentlemen, well. It will not do to trust him too far. If, dating our inquiries from the body found, and thence tracing a murderer, we yetdiscover thisbody to be that of some other individual than Marie ; or, if starting from theliving Marie, we find her, yet find her unassassinated in cithercase we lose ourlabour ; since it Monsieur G with whom we have to deal. For our own purpose, therefore, if not for the purpose of justice, it is indispensable that our first step should be the determination of the identity of the corpse with the Marie Koget who is missing.

* See "Murders inthe Rue Morgue.

THE MYSTERY OF MAItlE noUET..

"With the public the arguments of L'Etoile have had weight ; and that the journal itself is convinced of their importance would appear from the manner in which it commences one of its essnys upon the sub ject. ' Several of the morning papers of the day,' it says,' speak of the conclusive article in Monday'sEtoile.' To me, this article appears conclusive of little beyond the zeal of its inditer. We should bear in mind that, in general, it is the object of our newspapers rather to create a sensation, to mnko a point, than to further tho cause of truth. The latter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with the former. The print which meroly falls in with ordinary opinion (however well founded this opinion may be) earns for itself no credit with the mob. The mass of the people regard as pro found only him who suggests pungent contradictions of the general idea. In ratiocination, not less than in literature, it is the epigram which is the most imme diately and the most universally appreciated. In both, it is of the lowest order of merit.

" What I mean to say is, that it is the mingled opigram and melodramo of the idea, that Marie Kogot still lives, rather than any true plausibility in this idea, which have suggested it to L'Etoile, and secured it a favourable reception with the public. Let us examine the heads of this journal's argument ; endeavouring to avoid the incoherence with which it is originally set forth.

" The first aim of the writer is to show, from the brevity of the interval between Marie's disappearance and the finding of the floating corpse, that this coqise cannot be that of Marie. The reduction of this interval to its smallest possible dimension, becomes thus, atonce, an object with the reasoner. In the rash pursuit of this object he rushes into mere assumption at the outset. ' It is folly to suppose,' he says, ' that the murder, if murder was committed on her body, could have been consummated soon enough to have enabled her mur

THE MYSTE11Y OF MARIE JIOOET.

13}

derers to throw the body into the river before midnight. We demand at once, and very naturally, why? Whyis it folly to suppose that the murder was committed within five minutes after the girl's quitting her mother's house ? Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was com mitted at any given period of the day? There have been assassinations at all hours. But, had the-murder taken place at any moment between nine o'clock in the morning of Sunday, and a quarter before midnight, thero would still have been time enough 'to throw the body into the river before midnight.' This assumption, then, amounts precisely to this, that the murder was not com mitted on Sunday at all ; and, if we allow L'Eloile to assume this, wo may permit it any liberties whatever. Tho paragraph beginning ' It is follyto suppose that the murder,' &c., however it appears as printed in L'Etoile, may be imagined to have existed actually thus in the brain of its inditer : ' It is folly to suppose that the murder, if murder was committed on the body, could have been committed soon enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the body into the river before mid night ; it is folly, we say, to suppose all this, and to suppose at the same time (as we are resolved to suppose) that the body was not thrown in until after midnight' n sentence sufficiently inconsequential in itself, but not so utterly preposterous as the one printed.

" Were it my purpose," continued Dnpin, " merely to makeout a caseagainst this passage ofL'Etoile's argu ment, I might safely leave it where it is. It is not, however, with L'Etoile that we have to do, but with the truth. The sentence in question has but one meaning as it stands, and this meaning I have fairly stated ; but it is material that we go behind the mere words for an idea which these words were obviously intended, and failed, to convey. It was the design of tho journalist to say that, at whatever period of the day or night of Sun day this. murder was committed, it was improbable that the assassins would have ventured to bear the corpse to f* a

140

THE MYSTERY OF MAEIE EOGET.

the river before midnight. And herein lies really the assumption of which I complain. It is assumed that the murder was committed at suchaposition, and undersuch circumstances, that the bearing it to the river became necessary. Now the assassination might have taken place upon the river's brink or on the river itself; and thus the throwing the corpse in the water might have been resorted toat any period ofthe day or night, as the most obvious and most immediate mode of disposal. You will understand that I suggest nothing here as probable, or as coincident with my own opinion. My design, so fur, has no roferenco to the facta of the case ; I wish merely to caution you against the whole tone of L'Etoile's suggestion by calling your attention to its ex parte character at the outset.

" Having prescribed thus a limit to suit its own pre conceived notions, having assumed that if this were the body of Marie, it could have been in the waterbutavery brief time, thejournal goes on to say :

" ' All experience has shown that drowned bodies, or bodies intothrown the water immediately after death by vlolonce, require from six to dayBten for suflloient decomposition to tako plaoo to bring thorn to the oftop the water. Even when a oannon is fired over a oorpsO, and it beforerises at least five or six days' immersion, it sinks again if let ulono.'

" These assertions have been tacitlyreceived byevery paper in Paris with the exception of Le Moniteur. This latter print endeavours to combat that portion of the paragraph which has reference to ' drowned bodies' only, by citing some five or six instances in which the bodies of individuals known to be drowned were found floating after the lapse of less time than is insisted upon by L'Etoile. But there is something excessively unphilosophical in the attempt on the part of Le Moniteur to rebut the general assertion of L'Etoile by a citation of particular instances militating against that assertion. Had it been possible to adduce fifty instead of five examples of bodies found floating at the end of two or three days, these fifty examples could still have been properly regarded only as exceptions to L'Etoile's rule

THE MYSTERY OV MARIE ROOET.

141 until such time as the rule itself should be confuted. Admitting the rule (and this Le Monitextrdoes notdeny, insisting merely upon its exceptions), the argument of L'Etoile is suffered to remain in full force; forthis argu ment does not pretend to involve more than a question of the probability of the body having risen to the surface in less than three days ; and this probability will be in favour of L'Eloile's position until the instances so child ishly adduced shall bo sufficient in number to establish an antagonistical rule.

"You will see at once that all argument upon this head should be m-ged, if at all, against the rule itself; and for this end we must examine the rationale of the rale. Now the human body in general is neither much lighter nor much heavier than the water of the Seine; that is to say, the specific gravity of the human body in its natural condition is about equal to the bulk of fresh water which it displaces. The bodies of fat and fleshy persons, with small bones, and of women generally, are lighter than those of the lean and large-boned, and of men ; and the specific gravity of the water of a river is somewhat influenced by the presence of the tide from sea. But, leaving this tide out of question, it may be said that veiij few human bodies will sink at all, even in fresh water, of their own accord. Almostany one,falling into a river, will bo enabled to float, if ho suffer the spe cific gravity of the water fairly to be adduced in compa rison with his own, that is to say, if he suffer his whole person tobeimmersed,withaslittleexceptionas possible. The proper position for one who cannot swim is the up right position of the walkeron land,withthehead thrown fully back and immersed, the mouth and nostrils alone remaining above the surface. Thus circumstanced, we shall find that we float without difficulty and without exertion. It is ovidont, howover, that tho gravities of the body and of the hulk of water displaced are very nicely balanced, and that a trifle will cause either to preponderate. An arm, for instance, uplifted from the

US THE MYSTEIIY OK MATUE ROGET.

water, and thus deprived of its support, is an additional weightsufficient to immerse the whole head, while the accidental aid of the smallest piece oftimber will enable us to elevate the head so as to look about. Now, in the struggles of one unused to swimming, the arms are inva riably thrown upwards, while an attemptismade to keep the head in its usual perpendicularposition. The result is the immersion of the mouth and nostrils, and the in ception, during efforts to breathe while beneath the sur face, of water into the lungs. Much is also received into the stomach, and the whole body becomes heavier by the difference between the weight ofthe air originally distending theso cavities and that of the lluid which now fills them. This difference issufficienttocausethe body to sink, as a general rule, but is insufficient in the cases of individuals with small bones and an abnormal quan tity of flaccid or fatty matter. Such individuals float even after drowning.

, " The corpse, being supposed at the bottom of the river, will there remain until, bysome means, its specific gravity again becomes less than that ofthe bulk of water which it displaces. This effect is brought about by de composition or otherwise. The result of decomposition is the generation of gas, distending the cellular tissues and all the cavities, and giving the puffed appearance which is so horrible. When this distension has so far progressed that the bulk of the corpse is materially increased without a corresponding increase of mass or weight, its specific gravity becomes less than that of the water.displaced, and it forthwith makes its appearance at the surface. But decomposition is modified by innu merable circumstances, is hastened or retarded by innu merable agencies ; for example, by the heat or cold of the season, by the mineral impregnation or purity of the water, by its depth or shallowness, by its currency or stagnation, by the temperament of the body, by its infection or freedom from disease before death. Thus it is evident that we can assign no period, with anything

THE MYSTERY 01? MAIMS R0GET.

143

like accuracy, at which the corpse shall rise through decomposition. Under certain conditions this result would be brought about within an hour; under others, it might not take place at all. There are chemical infu sions by which the animal frame can be preserved for ever from corruption the bi-chloride of mercury is one. But, apart from decomposition, there may be, and very usually is, a generation ofgas within the stomach, from the acetous fermentation of vegetable matter (or within other cavities from other causes), sufficient to induco a distension which will bring the body to the surface. The effect produced by the firing ofa cannon is that of simple vibration. This may either loosen the corpse from the soft mud or ooze in which itis embedded, thus permitting it to rise when other agencies have already prepared it for so doing, or it may overcome the tenacity of some putrescent portious of the cellular tissue, allow ing the cavities to distend under the influenceofthegas.

" Having thus beforo us the whole philosophyof this subject, we cau easily test byittheassertionsoiL'Etoile. 'All experience shows,' says this paper, ' that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into thewaterimmediately after death by violence, require from six to ten days for suffi cient decomposition to take place to bring them to the top of the water. Even when a cannon is fired over a corpso, and it rises before at least five or six days' immersion, it sinks again if let alone.'

"The whole of this paragraph must now appear a tissue of inconsequence andincoherence. All experience does not show that ' drowned bodies' require from six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them to the surface. Bothscience and experience show that the period of their rising is, and necessarily must be, indeterminate. If, moreover, a body has risen to the surface through firing of cannon, it will not 'sink again if let alone,' until decomposition has so far pro gressed as to permit the escape of the generated gas. But I wish to call your attention to the distinctionwhich

THE MYSTERST OF MAKIE HOQET.

is made between ' drowned bodies' and ' bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence.' Although the writer admits the distinction, he yet in cludes them all in the same category. I have shown how it is that the body of a drowning man becomes spe cifically heavier than its bulkof water, and that hewould not sink at all except for the struggles by which he elevates his arms above the surface, and his gasps for breath while beneath the surface gasps which supply by water the place of the original air in the lungs. But these struggles and these gasps would not occur in the body 'thrown into the water immediately after death by violenco.' Thus, in tho latter instance, the body, as a general rule, would not sink at all; a fact of which L'Etoile is evidently ignorant. When decomposition had proceeded to a very great extent,when the flesh had in a great measure left the bones, then, indeed, but not till then, should we lose sight of the corpse.

" And now what are we to make of the argument, that the body found could not bo that of Mario Kogfit, because, three days only having elapsed, this body was found floating? If drowned, boing a woman, she might never have sunk ; or, having sunk, might have re appeared in twenty four hours, or less. But no one sup poses her to have been drowned ; and, dying before being thrown into the river, she might have been found floating at any period afterwards whatever.

"' But,' says L'Etoile, ' if the body had been kept in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, some trace would be found on shore of the murderers.' Here it is at first difficult to perceive the intention of the reasoner. He means to anticipate what he imagines would be an objection to his theory, viz., that the body was kept on shore two days, suffering rapid decompo sition ; more rapid than if immersed in water. He sup poses that,had this been the case, itmight have appeared at the surface on the Wednesday, and thinks that only under such circumstances it could so have appeared. He

THE MYSTERY Ob' MAIlir, 1100ET. 145 is accordingly in hnste to show that it was not kept on shore; for, if so, ' some trace would be found on shore of the murderers.' I presume you smile at the sequitur. You cannot be made to see how the mere durationof the corpse on the shore could operate to multiply traces of the assassins. Nor can I.

"'And furthermore it is exceedingly improbable,' continues our journal, ' that any villains who had com mitted such a murder as is here supposed, would have thrown the body in without weight to sink it, when such a precaution could have so easily been taken.' Observe here the laughable confusion of thought! No one, not even L'Etoile, disputes the murder committed on the bodyfound. The marks of violence are too obvious. It is our reasoner's object merely to show that this body is not Marie's. He wishes to prove that Marie is not assassinated, not that the corpse was not. Yet his ob servation proves only the latter point. Here is a corpse without woight attached; murderers casting it in would not have failed to attach a weight; therefore itwas not thrown in by murderers. This is all which is proved, if anything is. The question of identity is not even ap proached, and L'Eioile has been at great pains merely to gainsay now what it has admitted only a moment before. 'We are perfectly convinced,' it says, ' that the body found was that- of a murdered fcmalo.'

" Nor is this the sole instance, even in this division of the subject, where our reasoner unwittingly reasons against himself. His evident object, I have already said, is to reduce, as much as possible, the interval be tween Marie's disappearance and the finding of the corpse. Yetwe find him urging the point that no person saw the girl from the moment of her leaving her mother's house. ' We have no evidence,' he says, ' that Marie Rogot was in the land. of the living after nine o'clock on Sunday, June the twenty-second.' As his argument is obviously an ex-parte one, ho should, at least, have left this matter out of sight; for had any one

THK MYSTEBY OF MA11IB BOGET.

been known to see Marie, sayon Monday, oronTuesday, the interval in question would have been much reduced, and, by his own ratiocination, the probability much diminished of the corpse being that of the grisetle. It is nevertheless amusing to observe that L'Etoile insists upon its point in the full belief of its furthering its general argument.

" Re-peruse now that portion of this argument which has reference to the identification ofthe corpse by Beauvais. In regard to the hair upon the arm, L'Etoile has been disingenuous. M. Beauvais, not being an idiot, could never have urged, in identification of the corpse, simply hair upon its arm. No arm is without hair. The generality of the expression of L'Etoile is a mere perversion of the witness's phraseology. He must have spoken of some peculiarity in this hair. It must have been a peculiarity of colour, of quantity, of length, or of situation.

" ' Her foot,' says the journal, ' was small ; so aro thousands offeet. Her garter is no proof whatever ; nor is her shoe, for shoes and garters are sold in packages. The same may be said of the flowers in her hat. One thing upon which M. Beauvais strongly insists is, that the clasp on the garter found had been set back to take it in. This amounts to nothing; for most women find it proper to take a pair of garters home and fit them to the size of the limbs they are to encircle, rather than to try them in the store where they purchase.' Here it is difficult to suppose tho roosonor in oarnest. Had M. Beauvais, in his search for the body of Marie, discovered a corpse corresponding in general size and appearance to the missing girl, he would have been warranted (with out reference to the question of habiliment at all) in forming an opinion that his search had been successful.

If, in addition to the point of general size and contour, he had found upon the arm a peculiar hairy appearance which he had observed upon the living Marie,his opinion might have been justly strengthened ; and the increase

THE MYSTERY OF MA1UE EOGET.

1«

of positiveness might well have been in the ratio of the peculiarity or unusualness of the hairy mark. If, the feet of Marie being small, those of the corpse were also small, the increase of probability that the body was that of Marie would not be an increase in a ratio merely arithmetical, but in one highly geometrical, or accumu lative. Add to all this shoes such as she had been known to wear upon the day of her disappearance, and, although these shoes may bo ' sold in packages,' ycu so far augment the probability as toverge upon tho certain. What, of itself, would be no evidenceofidentity, becomes through its corroborative position proof most sure. Give us, then, flowers in the bat corresponding to those worn by the missing girl, and we seek for nothing farther. If only one flower, we seek for nothing further; what then if two or three, or more? Each successive one is mul tiple evidence; proof not added to proof, but multiplied by hundreds or thousands. Let us now discover upon the deceased garters such as the living used, and it is almost folly to proceed. But these garters are found to be tightened by the setting back of a clasp, injust such amanneras herown hadbeentighteued by Marie, shortly previous to her leaving home. It is now madness or hypocrisy to doubt. What L'Etoile says in respect to this abbreviation of. the garters being an usual occur rence, shows nothing beyond its own pertinacity in error. The elastic nature of the clasp-garter is self-demonstra tion of the unusualness of the abbreviation. What is made to adjust itself must of necessity require foreign adjustment but rarely. It must have been by an acci dent, in its strictest sense, that these garters of Marie needed the tightening described. They alone would have amply established her identity. But it is not that the corpse was found to have the garters of the missing girl, or found to have her shoes, or her bonnet, or the flowers of her bonnet, or her feet, or a peculiar mark upon the arm, or her general size and appearance ; it is that the corpse had each and all collective y. Could it

THE MYSTEBY OP MARIE KOSET.

be proved that the editor ofL'Etoile really entertained a doubt, under the cirumstances, there would be no need, in his case, of acommission do lunatico inquirendo. He has thought it sagacious to echo the small-talk of the lawyers, who, for the most part, content themselves with echoing the rectangular precepts of the courts. I would here observe that very much of what is rejected as evi dence by a court is the best of evidence to the intellect. For the court, guiding itself by the general principles of evidence the recognised and boolced principles is averse from swerving at particular instances. And this stedfast adherence to principle, with rigorous disregard of tho conflicting excoption, is a euro modo of attaining the maximum of attainable truth, in any long sequence of time. The practice, in mass, is therefore philosophi cal; but it is not the less certain that it engenders vast individual error.*

" In respect to the insinuations levelled at Beauvais, you will be willing to dismiss them in a breath. You have already fathomed the true character5of this good gentleman. He is a busybody, with much of romance and little of wit. Anyone so constituted will readily so conduct himself, upon occasion of real excitement, as to render himself liable to suspicion onthe partof the overacute or the ill-disposed. M. Beauvais (as it appears from your notes) had some personal interviews with the editor of L'EtoUe, and offended him by venturing an opinion that the corpse, notwithstanding the theory of the editor, was, in sober fact, that of Marie. ' He per sists,' says tho paper, ' in assertingthe corpse to be that of Marie, but cannot give a circumstance, in addition to those which we have commented upon, to make others

; ' * " A theory baaed on the qualities of an object will prevent its unfoldedbeing according to its objects ; and he who arranges topics in toreference their causes will cease to value them acoording to their results. theThus jurisprudence of every nation will show that. when law beoomes sciencea and a system, it oooses to be jnstioe. Tho errors into which blinda devotion to principle* of classification has led the ootnmon-luw bewill seen by observing how often the Legislature has been obliged to forwardcome to rostore the equity its scheme had lost" Landor.

THE

MYSTERY OB MARIE ROGET.

148 believe.' Now, without re-adverting to the fact that stronger evidence, ' to make others believe,' could never have been adduced, it may be remarked that a man may very well be understood to believe, in a caseof this kind, without the ability to advance a single reason for the belief of a second parly. Nothing is more vague than impressions of individual identity. Each man recog nises his neighbour, yet there are few instances inwhich anyone is prepared to give a reason for his recognition. The editor of L'Etoile had no right to be offended at M. Beauvais' unreasoning belief. .:

" The suspicious circumstanceswhichinvest himwill be found to tally much better with my hypothesis of romantic busybodyhm than with the reasouer's sugges tionof guilt. Once adoptingthemorecharitableinterpre tation, wo shall find no difficulty in comprehending the rose in tho key-holo ; the ' Marie' upon the slate ; the ' elbowing the malo relatives out of the way ;' the ' aver sion to permitting them to see the body ;' the cautiongiven to Madame B , that she must hold no conver sation with the gendarme until his return (Beauvais') ; and, lastly, his apparent determination ' that nobody should have anything to do with the proceedings except himself.' It seems to me unquestionable that Beauvais was a suitor of Mario's ; that she coquetted with him ; and that ho was ambitious of being thought to oujoy her fullest intimacy and confidence. I shall say nothing more upon this point ; and, as the evidence fully rebuts the assertion of L'Etoile, touching the matter of apathy on the part of the mother and other relatives anapathy inconsistent with the supposition of their believing the corpse to be that of the perfumery-girl we shall now proceed as if the question of identity were settled to our perfect satisfaction."

" And what," I hero demanded, " do you think of the opinions of Le Commercielt"

" That, in spirit, they are far more worthyofattention than any which have been promulgatedupon the subject,

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ItOQET.

The deductions from the premises are philosophical and acute; but.the premises, in two instances, at least, are founded in imperfect observation, la Commercial wishes to intimate that Marie was seized by some gang of low ruffians not far from her mother's door. ' It is impossible,' it urges, ' that a person so well known to thousands as this young woman was should have passed three blocks without someone having seen her.' Thisis the idea of aman longresident inParis apublic man and one whoso walks to and fro in the city have been mostly limited to the vicinity of the public offices. Ho is aware that he seldom passos so far as a dozen blocks from his own bureau without being recognised and accosted. And, knowing the extent of his personal ac quaintance with others, and of others with him, he com pares his notoriety with that of the perfumery-girl, finds no great differencebetween them, and reaches at oncethe conclusion that she, in her walks, would be equally liable torecognition withhimself inhis. Thiscouldonly be the case were herwalks of the same unvarying methodical character, and within the same species of limited region as are his own. He passes to and fro, at regular in tervals, within a confined periphery, abounding in indi viduals who are led to observation of his person through interest in the kindred nature of his occupation with their own. But the walks of Marie may, in general, be supposed discursive. In this particular instance, it will be understood as most probable that she proceeded upon a route of more than average diversity from her accustomed ones. The parallel which we imagine to have existedin the mind of LeCommerciel would only be sustainedintheeventof the twoindividuals traversingthe whole city. In this case, granting the personal acquaint ances to be equal, the chanceswould be alsoequal thatan equal numberofpersonal rencounterswouldbe made. For my own part, I should hold it not only as possible, but as very far more than probable, that Marie might have proceeded, at any given period, by any one of the many

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE IIOOET.

151 routes between her own residence and that of her aunt without meeting a single individual whom she knew or by whom she was known. In viewing*this question in its full and proper light, we must hold steadily in mind the great disproportion between the personal acquaint ances of even the mostnoted individual in Paris and the entire population of Paris itself.

" But whatever force there may still appear to be in the suggestionofLe Commerciel will bemuch diminished when we take into consideration the hour at which the girl went abroad. ' It was when the streets were full of people,' says Le Commerciel, ' that she went out.' But not so. It was at nine o'clock in the morning. Now at nine o'clock of every morning in the week, with the ex ception of Sunday, the streets of the city are, it is true, thronged with people. At nine on Sunday the populace are chiefly within doors, preparingfor church. No ob serving person can have failed to notice the peculiarly deserted air of the town from about eight until ten on the morning of every Sabbath. Between ten and eleven the streets are thronged, but not at so early a period as that designated.

" There is another point at which there seems a deficiency of observation on the part of Le Commerciel. 'Apiecr,' it says, ' of one of tho unfortunate girl's pet ticoats, two feet long and ono foot wide, was lorn out and tied under her chin, and around the back of her head, probably to prevent screams. This was done by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs.' Whether this idea is or is not well founded, we will endeavour to see hereafter; but by ' fellows who have no pocket-handker chiefs,' the editor intends the lowest class of ruffians. These, however, are the very descriptions of peoplewho will always be found to have handkerchiefs even when destitute of shirts. You must have had occasion to observe how absolutely indispensable, of late years, to the thorough blackguard has become the pocket-hand kerchief."

IP2 THE MYSTERY OF MAKIE UOGET.

" And what arc we to think," I asked, " of the article in Le Soilelf

" That it is # vast pity its inditcr was not born a parrot ; in which ease he would have been the most illustrious parrot of his race. He has merely repeated the individual items of the already published opinion ; collectingthem,withalaudableindustry,fromthispaper and from that. 'The things had all evidently been there,' he says, 'at leastthree or four weeks ; andthere can be no doubt that the spot of this appalling outrage has been discovered.' The facts here instated by Le Soliel are very far from removing my own doubts upon thissubject, andwe will examine themmore particularly hereafterinconnexionwithanotherdivisionofthetheme

" Atpresentwe must occupyourselves with other in vestigations. You cannot fail to have remarked the extreme laxity of the examinationofthe corpse. To be sure, the question of identity was readily determined, or should have been; but there were other points to be ascertained. Had the body been in any respect despoiled? Had the deceased any articles of jewellery aboutherperson uponleaving home? ifso, had she any when found? These are important questions utterly untouchedbytheevidence ; andthere are othersofequal moment which have met with no attention. We must endeavourto satisfyourselves bypersonal inquiry. The case of St. Eustache must be re-examined. I have no suspicion ofthis person; butletusproceedmethodically, We will ascertain beyond a doubt the validity of the affidavits in regard to his whereabouts on the Sunday. Affidavits of this character are readily made matter of mystification. Should there be nothing wrong here, however, we will dismiss St. Eustache from our investi gations. Hissuicide,howevercorroborativeofsuspicion, were there found to be deceitintheaffidavits, is,without suchdeceit,inno respectanunaccountablecircumstance, or one which need cause us to deflect from the line of ordinary analysis.

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE HOOET.

153

" In that which I now propose we will discard the interior points of this tragedy, and concentrate our atten tion upon its outskirts. Not the least usual error, in investigations such as this, is the limiting of inquiry to the immediate, with total disregard of the collateral or circumstantial events. It is tho malpractice of the courts to confine evidence and discussion to the hounds of apparent relevancy. Yet experience has shown, and a true philosophy will nlways show, that a vast, perhaps tho larger portion of truth, arises from the seemingly irrelevant. It is through the spirit of this principle, if not precisely through its letter, that modern science has resolved to calculate upon the unforeseen. But, perhaps, you do not comprehend me. The history of human knowledge has so uninterruptedly shown that to col ' lateral, or incidental, or accidental events, we are in debted for the most numerous and most valuable dis coveries, that it has at length become necessary, in any prospective view of improvement, to make not onlylarge but the largest allowances for inventions that shall arise by chance, and quite out of the range of ordinary expec tation. It is no longerphilosophical to base, upon what has been, a vision of what is to be. Accident is ad mitted as a portion of the substructure. We make chance a matter of absolute calculation. We subject the unlooked-for and unimaginod to tho mathematical forinula of the schools.

" I repeat thatit is no more than fact that the larger portion of all truth has sprung from the collateral; and .it is but in accordance with the spirit of the principle involved in this fact, that I would divert inquiry, in the present case, from the trodden and hitherto unfruitful ground of the event itself, to the contemporary circum stances which surround it. While you ascertain the validity of the affidavits, I will examine the newspapers more generally than you have as yet done. So far, wo have only reconnoitred the field of investigation; but it will be strange indeed if a comprehensive survey, such

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE R0GKT.

as I propose, of the public prints, will not afford us some minute points which shall establish a direction for in quiry."

In pursuance ofDupin'ssuggestion,I made scrupulous examination of the amir of the affidavits. The result was a firm conviction of their validity, and of the con sequent innocence of St. Eustache. In the meantime, my friend occupied himself with what seemed to me a minuteness altogether objectless in a scrutiny of the various newspaper-files. At the end of aweek he placed before me the following extracts :

" About throe yoars and a half ago a dlsturbanao, vary similar to present,Uto wus oaused by the disappearance of this same Mario lloget thefrom parfumerie of Monsieur Le ilhino, in the Palais Royal. At the end aof week, however, she re-appeared at her customary eomptoir as well as withever, the exception of a slight paleness not altogether usual. It was ontgiven by Monsieur Le Blauo and her mother that she had merely been on visitu to some friend in the country ; and the affair was speedily hushed Weup. presume that the present absenoe is a freak of the same nature, thatand at the expiration of a week, or perhaps a month, we shall have amongher us again." Evening Paper, Monday, June "23. An evening journal of yesterday refers to a former mysterious pearancedisap of Mademoiselle Rogot. It is well known that, during the ofwook her absenoe from Le Blano s parfumerie, she was iu the company of younga naval ofSoer, much noted for hla debaucheries. A quarrel, it supposed,is providentially led to her return home. We have the name theof Lothario in question, who is at present stationed In Paris, but, obviousfor reasons, forboar to make it public." it* Mervurie, Tuesday inmom {j, June "24, An outrage of the most atrocious character was perpetrated near citythis the day before yesterday. A gentleman, with his wife and engaged,daughter, after dusk, the services of six young men, who were idly arowing boat to and fro near the banks of the Seine, to convey him across river.the Upon reaching the opposite shore the three passengers out,stepped and had proceeded so far as to be beyond the view of the boat, thewhen daughter discovered that she had left in it her parasol. Sua forreturned it, was seized by the gang, carried out into the stream, gagged;brutally treated, and finally taken to the shore at a point not far from that whichat she had originally entered tho boat with nor parents. The havevillains esoaped for the time, but the police are upon their trail, and ofsome them will soon be taken." Morning Paper, June "35. We have received one or two communications, the object of which tois fasten the crime of the late atrooity upon Mennais ;* but as this tlemangen has been fully exonerated by a legal inquiry, and as the ofarguments our several correspondents appear to be more zealous than weprofound, do not think it advisable to make them public" Morning JunePaper, "28.We have received several forcibly-written communications, rentlyappa from various sources, and which go far to render it a matter of cer-

* Menndis was one of the parties originally suspected and arrested, dischargedbut through total lack of evidonoe.

THE MYSTEPY OF MA1UE ltOOET.

155 tainty that the nnfortunato Marie Boget has become a victim of one theof numerous bands of blackguards which infest the vicinity of tho uponcity Sunday. Our own opinion is decidedly in favour of this Wesupposition. shall endeavour to make room for some of these arguments hereafter.'' Evening Paper, Tuesday, June 31.

" On Monday one of the bargemen connected with the sawrevenue-Bervioe an empty boat floating down the Seine. Sails were lying in the tombot of the boat. The bargeman towed it under the barge-ofBoe. The morningnext It was taken from thenoe without the knowledge of any of officers.the The rudder is now at the barge-office." Le Diligence, JuneThursday, 26.

Upon roading theso various extracts, they not only seemed to me irrelevant, but I could perceive no mode in which any of them could be brought to bear upon the matter in hand. I waited for some explanation from Dupin.

" It is not my present design," he said, " to dwell upon the first and second of these extracts. I have copied them chiefly to show you the extreme remissness of the police, who, as far as I can understand from tho Prefect, havo not troubled themselves in any respectwith the examination of the naval officer alluded to. Yet it is mere folly to say that between the first and second disappearance of Marie there is no supposable connexion. Let us admit tho first elopement to have resulted in a quarrel between the lovers, and the return homo of tho betrayed. We are now prepared to view a second elope ment (ifwe know that an elopement has again taken place) as indicating a ronowal of tho betrayer's advancos, rather than as tho result of new proposals by a second individual; we are prepared to regard it as a ' making up' of the old amour rather than as the commencement of a new one. The chances are ten to one that he who had once eloped with Marie would again propose an elopement, rather than that she to whom proposals 01 elopement had been made by one individual should have them made to herby another. And hereletme call your attention to the fact, that the time elapsing between the first ascertained and tho second supposed elopement is a few months more than the general period of the cruises of our men-of-war. Had the loverbeen interrupted in

156

THE MYSTERY OF MAME ROOST.

his first villany by the necessity of departure to sea, and had he seized the first moment of his return to renew the base designs not yet altogether accomplished, or not yet altogether accomplished by him? Of all these things we know nothing.

" You will say, however, that in the second instance there was no elopement, as imagined. Certainly not ; but are we prepared to say that there was not the frus trated design ? Beyond St. Eustache, and perhaps Beauvais, we find no recognised, no open, no honourable suitors of Marie. Of none other is there anything said. Who, then, is tho aocrot lover of whom tho rolntivos (at Ivast most of them) knownothing, butwhom Mario meets upon the morning of Sunday, and who is so deeply in her confidence that she hesitatesnotto remain with him, until the shades of the evening descend, amid the soli tary groves of the Barriere du Koule? Who is that secret lover, I ask, of whom, at least, most of the rela tives know nothing? Andwhat means the singularpro phecy of Madame Rogfit on the morning of Marie's departure. ' I fearthat I shall never see Marie again ?'

" But if we cannot imagine Madame RogGt privy to thedesign of elopement, may we not atleast suppose this design entertained by the girl? Upon quitting home, she gave it to be understood that she was about to visit her aunt in the Rue des Dromes, and St. Eustache was requested to call for her at dark. Now, at first glance, this fact strongly militates against my suggestion ; but let us veiled. That she did meet somo companion, and proceed with him across the river, reaching the Barriere du Roule at so late an hour as three o'clock in the after noon, is known. Butin consenting so to accompany this individual (for whatever purpose, to her mother known or unknown), she must have thought of her expressed in tention when leaving home, and of the surprise and suspicion aroused in the bosom of her affianced suitor, St.Eustache, when, calling for herat the hourappointed, in the Bue des Dromes, he should find that she had not

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE IIOGET.

been there ; and when, moreover, upon returning to the pensionwith this alarming intelligence,he should become aware of her continued absence from home. She must have thought of these things, I say. She must have foreseen the chagrin of St. Eustache, the suspicion of all. She could not have thouglit of returning to brave his suspicion ; but the suspicion becomes a point of trivial importance to her, if we suppose her not intending to return.

" Wo may imagine her thinking thus ' I am to meet a certain person for the purpose of elopement, or for certain other purposes known only to myself. It is necessary that there be no chance of interruption; there must be sufficient time given us to elude pursuit ; I will give it to be understood that I shall visit and spend the day with my aunt at the Rue des Dromes ; I will tell St. Eustache not to call for me until dark. In this way, my absence from home for the longest possible period, without causing suspicion or anxiety, will bo accounted for, and I shall gain more time than in any other manner. If I bid St. Eustache call for me at dark, he will be sure not to call before ; but, if I wholly neglect to bid him call, my time for escape will be diminished, since it will be expected that I return the earlier, and my absence will the sooner excite anxiety. Now, if it were my design to return at all if I had in contemplation merely a stroll with the individual in question it would not be my policy to bid St. Eustache call ; for calling, ho will be sure to ascertain that I have played him false, a fact of which I might keep him for ever in ignorance, by leaving home without notifying him of my intention, by returning before dark, and by then stating that I had been to visit my aunt in the Rue des Dromes. But, as it is my design never to return, or not for some weeks, or not until certain con cealments are effected, the gaining of timo is the only point about which I need give myself any concern.'

" You have observed, in your notes, that the most

general opinion in relation to this sad affair ia, and was from the first, thatthe girl had heen the victim of agang of blackguards. Now, the popular opinion, under cer tain conditions, is not to be disregarded. When arising of itself, when manifesting itself in a strictly spon taneous manner, we should look upon it as analogous with that intuition which is the idiosyncrasy of the indi vidual man of genins. In ninety-nine cases from the hundred I would abide by its decision. But it is im portant that we find no palpable traces of suggestion. The opinion must be rigorously the public's own; and the distinction is often exceedingly difficult to perceive and to maintain. In the present instance, it appears to me that this 'public opinion,' in rospect to a gang, has been superinduced by the collateral event which is detailed in the third of my extracts. All Paris is ex cited by the discovered corpse of Marie, a girl young, beautiful and notorious. This corpse is found, bearing marks of violence, and floating in the river. But it is now made known that, at the very period, or about the very period, in which it is supposod that tho girl was assassinated, an outrage similar in nature to that en dured. by the deceased, although less in extent, was perpetrated by a gang of young ruffians upon the person of a second young female. Is it wonderful that the one known atrocity should influence the popular judgment in regard to the other unknown? This judg ment awaited direction, and the known outrage seemed so opportunely to afford it I Marie, too, was found in the river; and upon this very river was this known out rage committed. The connexion of the two events had about it so much of the palpable, that the true wonder would have been a failure of the populace to appreciate and to seize it. But, in fact, the one atrocity, known to be so committed, is, if anything, evidence that the other, committed at a time nearly coincident, was not so committed. It would have been a miracle indeed if, while a gang of ruffians were perpetrating, at a given

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGEI.

159

locality, a most unheard-of -wrong, there should have been another similar gang, in a similar locality, in the same city, under the same circumstances, with the same means and appliances, engaged in a wrong of precisely the same aspect, at precisely the same period of time ! Yet in what, if not in this marvellous train of coinci dence, does the accidentally suggested opinion of the populace call upon us to believe?

" Before proceeding further, lot us consider the sup posed sceno of the assassination, in the thicket at the Barricro du Eoulo. This thicket, although dense, was in the close vicinity of a public road. Within were three or four large stones, forming a kind of seat with a back and footstool. On the upper stone was discovered a white petticoat; on tho seconda silk scarf. A parasol, gloves and a pocket-handkerchief, were also here found. The handkerchief bore the name, 'Marie Eoget' Frag ments of dress were seen on the branches around. The earth was trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was every evidence of a violent struggle.

"Notwithstanding the acclamation with which the discovery of this thicket was received by the press, and the unanimity with which it was supposed to indicate the precise scene of the outrage, it must be admitted that there was some very good reason for doubt. That it mis tho scono, I may or I may not boliovo; but there was excellent reason for doubt. Had the true scene been, as Le Commerciel suggested, in the neighbour hood of tho Paio Pavoe St. Andree, the perpetrators of the crime, supposing them still resident in Paris, would naturally have been stricken with terror at the public attention thus acutely directed into the proper channel ; and, in certain classesof minds, there would have arisen, at once, a sense of the necessity of some exertion to re-divert this attention. And thus, the thicket of the Barriere du Boulo having been already suspected, the idea of placing the articles where they were found might have been naturally entertained. There is no real evi

ICO THE MYSTERY OF MAKIE HOOET.

deuce, although Le Soleil so supposes, that the articles discovered had been more than a very few days in the thicket; while there is much circumstantial proof that they could not have remained there without attracting attention during the twenty days elapsing between the fatal Sunday and the afternoon upon which they were found by the boys. 'They were all mildewed down hard,' says Le Soleil, adopting the opinions ofits prede cessors, ' with the action of the rain, and stuck together from mildew. The grass had grown around and over some of them. The silk of the parasol was strong, but the threads of it were ran together within. Tho upper part, whore it had been doublod and folded, was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on being opened.' In respect to the grass having 'grown around and oversome of them,' it is obvious that the fact could only have been ascertained from the words, and thus from the recollec tions, of two small boys; for these boys removed the articles and took them home before they had been seen by a third party. But grass will grow, especially in warm and damp weather (such as was that of the period of the murder), as much as two or three inchesinasingle day. Aparasollying upon a newly-turfed ground might, in a single week, be entirely concealed fromsight by the upspringing grass. Andtouchingthatmildewupon which the editor of Le Soleil so pertinaciously insists that he employs the word no less than three times in the brief paragraphjustquoted, is he reallyunaware ofthe nature of this ntildew? Is he to be told that it is one of the many classes of fungus of which the most ordinary feature is its upspringing and decadence within twentyfour hours?

" Thus we see, at a glance, that what has been most triumphantly adduced in support of the idea that the articles had been 'for at least three or four weeks' in the thicket, ismostabsurdlynull as regards any evidence of that fact. On the other hand, it is exceedingly diffi cult to believe that these articles could haveremained in

THE MYSTERY OP MARIE ROOET.

161 the thicket specified, for a longer period than a single week for a longer period than from one Sunday to the next. Those who know anything of the vicinity of Paris, know the extreme difficulty of finding seclusion, unless at a great distance from its suburbs. Such a thing as an unexplored, or even an unfrequently visitod recess, amid its woods or groves, is not for a moment to be imagined. Let any one who, being at heart a lover of nature, is yet chained by duty to the dust and heat of this great metropolis let any such one attempt, even during the week-days, to slake his thirst for solitude amid the scenes of natural loveliness winch immediately Burround us. At every second step he will find the growing charm dispelled bythe voice and personal intru sion of some ruffian or party of carousing blackguards. He will seek privacy amid the densest foliage, all in vain. Here are the very nooks where the unwashed most abound; here aro the temples most desecrated. With sickness of hoart the wanderer will fleo back to polluted Paris as to a less odious because less incon gruous sink of pollution. But if the vicinity of the city is so beset during the working-days of the week, how much more so on the Sabbath? It is now especially that, released from the claims of labour, or deprived of the customary opportunities of crime, the town black guard seeks the precincts of the town, not through love of the rural, which iu his heart he despises, but by way of escape from the restraints and conventionalities of society. He desires less the fresh air and the green trees than the utter license of the country. Here, at the road-side inn, or beneath the foliage of the woods, he indulges, unchecked by any eye exceptthose of his boon companions, in all the mad excess of a counterfeit hilarity the joint offspring of liberty and of rum. I say nothing more than what must bo obvious to every dispassionate observer, when I repeat that the circum stance of the articles in question having remained undis covered, for a longer period than from one Sunday to 6. o

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.

another, in any thicket in the immediate neighbour hood of Paris, is to be looked upon as little less than miraculous.

" But there are not wanting other grounds for the suspicion that the articles were plncod in the thicket with the view of diverting attention from the real scene of the outrage. And, first, let me direct your notice to the date of the discovery of the articles. Collate this with the date of the fifth extract made by myself from the newspapers. You will find that the discovery fol lowed almost immediately the urgent communications sent to the evening paper. These communications, although various and apparently from various sources, tended all to the same point viz., the directing atten tion to a gang as the perpetrators of the outrage, and to the neighbourhoodof the Barriere du Roule as its scene. Now here, of course, the suspicion is not that, in conse quence of these communications or of the public atten tion by them directed, the articles were found by the boys, but the suspicion might and may well have been, that the articles were not before found by the boys ; for the reason that the articles had not before been in the thicket, having boen depositod thoro only at so lata a period as at the date, or shortly prior to the date, of the communications, by the guilty authors of these commu nications themselves.

" This thicket was a singular one an exceedingly ' singular one. It was unusually dense. Within its na turally walled inclosure were three extraordinary stones, forming a seat with a back and footstool. And this thicket, so full of natural art, was in the immediate vici nity, within a few rods, of the dwelling of Madame Deluc, whose boys wero in the habit of closely examining the shrubberies about them in search of the bark of the sassafras. Would it be a rash wager a wager of one thousand to one that a day never passed over the heads of these boys without finding at least one of them ensconced in the umbrageous hall, and enthroned upon

THE MYSTERY 01' MARIE R00ET.

1GS its natural throue? Those who would hesitate at such a wager have either never been boys themselves or have forgotten the boyish nature. I repeat, it is exceedingly hard to comprehend how thearticles could haveremained in this thicket undiscovered for a longer period than one or two days ; and that thus there is good groundfor sus picion, in spite of the dogmatic ignorance of Le Soleil, that they were, at a comparatively late date, deposited where found.

" But there are still other and stronger reasons for believing themsodepositedthan anyIhave as yet urged. And now let me beg your notice to the highly artificial arrangement of the articles. On the upper stone lay a white petticoat ; on the second a silk scarf; scattered around were a parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief bearing the nameof ' Marie Rogot.' Here is justsuch an arrangement as would naturally be made by a not overacute person wishing to dispose of the articles naturally. But it is by no means a really natural arrangement. I should rather have looked to see the things all lying on the ground and trampled under-foot. In the narrow limits of thatbower it would have been scarcely possible that the petticoat and scarf should have retained a posi tion upon the stones, when subjected to the brushing to nnd fro of many struggling persons. ' There was evidcnco,' it is said, ' of n strugglo ; and the earth was trampled, the hushes were broken,' but the petticoat and scarf are found deposited as if upon shelves. 'The pieces of the frock torn out by the bushes were about three inches wide and six inches long. One part was the hem of the frock and it had been mended. They looked like strips torn off.' Here, inadvertently, Le Soleil has employed an exceedingly suspicious phrase. The pieces, as described, do indeed 'look like strips torn off,' but purposely and by hand. It is one of the rarest of accidents that a piece is ' torn off' from any garment, such as is now in question, by the agency of a thorn. From the very nature of such fabrics, a thorn or a nail o2

164

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.

becoming entangled in them tears them rectangularly divides them into two longitudinal rents, at right angles with each other,and meeting at an apex where the thorn enters ; but it is scarcely possible to conceive the piece ' torn off.' I never so knew it, nor did you. To tear a pieceofffrom such fabries two distinct forces, in different directions, will be, in almost every case, required. If there be two edges to thefabric if, for example, it be a pocket-handkerchief and it is desired to tear from it a slip, then, and then only, will. the one force serve the purpose, lint in the present case the question is of a dress, presenting but one edge. To tear a piece from the interior, where no edge is presented, could only bo effected by a miracle through the agency of thorns, and no one thorn could accomplish it. But even where an edge is presented twothorns will benecessary, operating, the one in two distinct directions and the other in one ; and this in the supposition that the edge is unhemmed. If hemmed, the matter is nearly out of the question. We thus see the numerous and great obstacles in the way of pieces being ' torn off' through the simpleagency of ' thorns,' yet we are required to bolievo not only that one pieco but that many havo beon so torn. ' And one part," too, 'was Hie hem of the frock!' Another piece was 'part of the skirt, not the hem;' that is to say, was torn completely out, through the agency of thorns, from the unedged interior of the dress ! These, I say, are things which one may well be pardoned for disbelieving ; yet, taken collectively, they may form per haps less of reasonable ground for suspicion, than the one startling circumstance of the articles having been left in this thicket at all by any murderers who had pre caution enough to think of removing the corpse. You will not have apprehended me rightly, however, if you suppose it my design to deny this thicket as the scene of the outrage. There might have been a wrong here, or, more possibly, an accident at Madame Deluc's. But, in fact, this is a point of minor importance. We are

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROC EX. 163 not engaged in an attempt to discover the scene, but U> produce the perpetrators of the murder. What I have adduced, notwithstanding the minuteness with which I have adduced it,.has been with the view, first, to show the folly of the positive and headlong assertions of Le Solcil, but, secondly and chiefly, to bring you by the most natural: route to a further contemplation of the doubt whether this assassination has, or has not been, the work of a gang.

" We will resume this question by mere allusion to the revolting details of the surgeon examined.at the in i quest. It is only necessary to say that his published inferences, in regard to the number of the ruffians, have; been properly ridiculed as unjust and totally baseless by! allthe reputableanatomists of Paris. Not thatthematter might not have been as inferred, but that there was no' ground for the inference ; was there . not much for another? .'

" Let us reflect now upon ' the tracos of a strugglo ;' and let me ask what these traces have.been supposed to demonstrate. A gang. But do'they not rather demon strate the absence of a gang? > What struggle could have taken place whatstruggle so violentand enduring as to have left its ' traces' in all directions between a> weak and defenceless girl and the gang of ruffians imax gincd? Tho silont grusp of a few rough arms nnd all would have been over. The victim must have been absolutely passive at their will. You will here bear in mind thatthe arguments urged against the thicket as the scene are applicable, in chief part, only against it as the scene of an outrage committed by more than a single in dividual. If we imagine but one violator, we can con ceive, and thus only conceive, the struggle of so violent and so' obstinate a nature as to have left the 'traces'apparent.

"And again. I have already mentioned the suspi cion to be excited by the fact that the articles in ques tion were suffered to remain at all in the thicket whero

IBS THE MYSTERY OP MARIE ROGET. discovered. It seems almost impossible that these evi dences'of guilt should have been accidentally left where found. There was sufficient presence of mind (it is supposed)to remove the corpse; and yet a more positive i evidence than the corpse itself (whose ;featuresvmight have been quickly obliterated by decay)is allowed to lie conspicuously in the scene of the outrage ; I allude to. the handkerchief with the name of the deceased. 'If. this was an accident, it was not the accident of a gang: We can imagine it; only the. accident of an individual. Let us see.: An individual has committed the murder. He is alone with the ghost of the departed. He is ap palled.by what lies motionless before him. The fury of his passion is over; and there is abundant room in his; heart for the natural awe of the deed. His is none of that confidence which the presence of numbers inevi tably inspires. He is alonewith the dead. He trembles and is bewildered. Yet there is a necessity for disposing of the corpse: He-bears itto the river,but leaves behind him the other'evidences,of guilt; for it is difficult,ifnot impossible, to carry all theburden at once, and it will be dasy toreturn for whatisleft;.Butinhis toilsomejourney to the water'his fears redouble withinhim.;.1 The sounds; of life encompass his path, iA dozen times ho hears or fancies the step of an observer;. Even the very lightsfrom the citybewilder, him. . Yet, in time and by long; and frequent pausesof deep agony, he reaches the river's brink and -- disposes^ of his ghastly charge, perhaps through the medium of a boat. But noiv what treasure does the world hold what threat of vengeance could it hold out which would have powerto urge the return of that lonely murderer over that toilsome and perilouspath to the thicket and its. blood-chilling recollections?. He returns."not, let the consequences be what they may. He covXd not returnifhewould. His sole thought is im mediate escape. 'He turns'his backfor ever upon those dreadful shrubberies, and fleesasfromthewrath tocome.. -'- " But how with a gang? Their number would'have

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROOET.

lh inspired them with confidence ; if, indeed, confidence is ever wanting in the' breast of the arrant blackguard; and of arrant blackguards alone are the supposed gangs ever constituted. Their number, I say, would have prevented the bewildering and unreasoning terror which

I have imagined to paralyze the single man. Could we suppose an oversight- in one, or two, or three, this oversight would have been remedied by a fourth. They would have left nothing behind them ; for their number would have enabled thorn to carry all at once. There would have been no need of return.

" Consider now the circumstance that, in the outer garment of the corpse when found, ' a slip, about a foot wide, had been torn upwards from the bottom hem to the waist, wound three times round the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back;' This was done with the obvious design- of affording a handle by which to carry the body. But would any number of men have dreamed of resorting to such an expedient? To three or four, th6 limbs of the corpse would have afforded not only a sufficient, but the best possible hold. The device is that of a single individual; and this brings us to the fact that ' between the thicket and the river, the' rails'of the fences were found taken down, and the ground bore evidenttraces of some heavyburden havingbeen dragged along itI' But would a number of men have put them selves to the superfluous trouble of taking down a fence, for the purpose of dragging through -it a corpse which they might have lifted over any fence in an instant? Would a number of men have so dragged a corpse at all as to have left evident traces of the dragging?

" And here we must refer to an observation of Le Ctvimerciel an observation upon which I have already, in some measure, commented. ' A piece,' says this journal, ' of one of the unfortunate girl's petticoats was torn out and tied under her chin, and around the back of her head, probably to prevent screams. This was done by feliows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs.'

108

THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROOET.

"I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief. But it is not to this fact that I now especially advert. That it was not through want of a handkerchief for the purpose imagined by Le Commerciel that this bandage was employed, is rendered apparent by the handkerchief left in the thicket ; and that the object was not ' to prevent screams' appears, also, from the bandage having been employed in preference to what would so much better have answered the purpose. But the language of the evidence speaks of the strip in question as ' found around the neck, fitting loosely, : and secured with a hard knot.' . These words are sufficiently vague, but differ materially from those of Le Commerciel. The slip was eighteen inches wide, and therefore, although of muslin would form a strong band when folded or rumpled longitudinally. And thus rumpled it was dis covered. My inference is this. The solitary murderer having borne the corpse for some distance (whether from the thicket or elsewhere) by means of the bandage hitched around its middle, found the weight in this mode of procedure, too much for his strength. He re solved to drag the burden; the evidence goes to show that it was dragged. With this object in view, it be came necessary to attach something like a rope to one of the extremities. It could be best attached about the neok, where the head would prevent its slipping off. And, now, the murderer bethought him, unquestionably, of (he bandage about the loins. He would have used this, but for its volution about the corpse, the hitch which embarrassed it, and the reflection that it had not been ' torn off' from the garment. It was easier to tear a new slip from the petticoat. He tore it, made it fast about the neck, and so dragged his victim to the brink of the river, That this ' bandage,' only attainable with trouble and delay, and but imperfectly answering its purpose that this bandage was employed at all, demon strates that the necessity for its employment sprang

-

WlE MYSTERY OF

MARIE KOGET. 109 :from circumstances arising at a period when the hand kerchief wad no longer attainable ; that is to say, arising, as we have imagined, after quitting the thicket (if the thicket it was), and on the road between the thicket and the river.

" But the evidence, you will say, of Mdme. Deluc,(!) points especially to the presence of a gang, in the :vicinity of the thicket, at or about the epoch of the mur der. This I grant. I doubt if there were not a dozen gangs, such asdescribed by Madame Deluc, in and about the vicinity of 'the Barriere du Bouleat or about the period of this tragedy. But the gang which has drawnupon itself flic 'pointed animadversion, although the somewhat tardyand verysuspiciousevidence, of Madame Deluc, is the only gang which is represented by that honest and scrupulous old lady as having eaten her enkos and swallowed her brandy without putting them selves to the trouble of making her payment. Et hino UUc irat

"Butwhatis the preciseevidence of Madame Deluc? 'A gang of miscreants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank without making payment, followed in the route of theyoung man and girl, returned to the inn about dusk, and re-crossed the river as if in great haste.'

" Now this ' great haste' verypossiblyseemed greater haste in the eyes of Madame'Deluc, since she dwelt lingeringly and lamentingly upon her violated cakes and ale cakes and ale for which she might still have enter tained a faint hope of compensation. Why, otherwise, since it was about dusk, should she make a point of the haste? It:is no cause for wonder, surely, that even a gang of blackguards should makehasteto get homewhen a wide river is to be crossed in small boats, when storm impends, and when night. appivaches.

" I say approaches; forthe night hadnot yet arrived. It was only about dusk that the indecent haste of those 'miscreants' offended the sober eyes of Madame Deluc, o»

THE MYSTERY OF MABIE BOGKT.

But we are told that it was upon this very evening that Madame Deluc, as well as her eldest son, ' heard the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn,' and in what words does Madame Deluc designate the period of the evening at which these screams were heard ? ' It was soon after dark,' she says. But ' soon after dark,' is, at least, dark; and ' about dusk' is as certainly day light. Thus it is abundantly clear that the gangquitted the Barriere du Roule prior to the screams overheard(?) by .Madame Deluc. And although, in all the many reports of the evidence, the relative expressions in ques tion are distinctlyand invariablyemployedjust asI have employed them in this conversationwith yourself, nono tice whatever of the gross discrepancy has as yet been taken by any of the public journals, or by any of tie myrmidons of the police.

"Ishalladd butone to theargumentsagainstagang; but this one has, to my own understanding at least, a weight altogether irresistible. Under the circumstances of large reward offered, and full pardon to any king's - evidence, it .is not to be imagined, for a moment, that some member of a gang of low ruffians, or of any body of men, would not long ago bave betrayed his accom; plices. . Each one of a gang so placed is not so much . greedy of a reward, or anxious for escape, as fearful of . betrayal. ; He betrays eagerly and early that he maynot himself be betrayed. That the secret has not been di vulged is the verybest ofproof thatit is, in fact, asecret. The horrors of this dark deed are known only to one, or two, living human beings, and to God. '; "Let us sum up now the meagre yet certain fruits of our long analysis. We have attained the idea either of a fatal accident under the roof of Madame Deluc, or of a murder perpetrated, in the thicket at the Barriere du Roule, byalover, oratleast byan intimate and secret associate of the deceased. This associate is of swarthy complexion. This complexion, the 'hitch' in the ban dage, and the ' sailor's knot' with which the bonnet

HIE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROOET.

171

ribbon is tied, point to a seaman. His companionship with the deceased, a gay, but not an abject young girl, designates him as above the grade of the common sailor. Here the well-written and urgentcommunications to the journals are much in the way of corroboration. The circumstance of the first elopement, as mentioned by Le Mercurie, tends to blend the ideaof this seaman with that of the ' naval officer' who is first known to have led the unfortunate into crime.

" And here, most fitly, comesthe consideration of tho continued absence of him of the dark complexion. Let me pause to observe that the complexion of this man is dark and swarthy ; it was no common swarthiness which constituted the sole. point of remembrance, both as regards Valence and Madame Deluc. But why is this man absont? Was ho murdorod by tho gang? If so, why are there only tracesof the assassinated girl! he scene of the two outrages will naturally be supposed identical. And where is his corpse ? The assassins would most probably have disposed of both in the same way. Butit may be said that this man lives, and is de terred from making himself known through dread of being charged with the murder. This consideration might be supposed to operate upon him now, at this late period, since it has been given in evidence that he was seen with Mario, but it would have had no force atthe period of the deed. The first impulse of an innocent man would have have been to announce the outrage, and to aid in identifying the ruffians. This, policy would have suggested. He had been seen with the girl. He had crossed the river with her in an open ferry-boat. The denouncing of the assassins would have appeared, even to an idiot, the surest and sole means of relieving himself from suspicion. We cannot suppose him, on the night of the fatal Sunday, both innocent himself and incognisant of an outrage committed. Yet only under suchcircumstancesis it possible to imaginethathewould havefailed, ifalive, inthe denouncementof the assassins. a* 2

172 THE MYSTERY OF MAKIE ROGET.

" And what means are ours of attaining the truth?. We shall find these means multiplying and gathering distinctness as we proceed. Let us sift to the bottom --this affair of the first elopement. Let us know the full history of ' the officer,' with his present circumstances, and his whereabouts at the precise periodof the murder. Let us compare with each other the various commumcations sent to the evening paper, in which the object was to inculpate a gang. This done, let us compare these communications, both as regards style and MS., with those sent to the morning paper at a previous period, and insisting so vehemently upon the guilt of Moimuis. i And, all this done, let us nguiu oomparo'those various communications with the known MBS. of :the officer. Let us endeavour to ascertain, by repeated questionings of Madame Deluc and her boys, as well as of the omni bus-driver, Valence, something more of the personal . appearanceand bearing.of the ' manof darkcomplexion.'Queries, skilfully directed, will not fail to elicit, from - some of these parties, information on this particularpoint (or uponothers], information which the partiesthemselves ' may not even be aware of possessing. - And let us now trace the boat picked up by the bargeman on the morn ing ofMonday the twenty-third.of June, and which was .removed from the barge-office without the cognisance of -tho officer in attendance,and without the rudder, at some period prior to the discovery of the corpse. With a prosper.caution and perseverance we shall infallibly truce this boat; for not onlycan the bargeman who picked it up identify it, but the rudder is at hand. The rudder ofa tail-boat would not have been abandoned without inquiry by one .altogether at ease- in heart. -And here .let me .pause to insinuate a question. There was no advertisement of the; picking up of this boat. .It was silently taken to the barge-office, and as silently re moved. Butits owner or employer bowhappened he, at so early a period as Tuesdaymorning,tobemformed, without the agency of advertisement, of the locality of

THE MYSTERY OP MAKIE ROOET. 173

the boat taken up on Monday, unless we imagine soma connexion with the navy, some personal permanent con nexion leading to cognisance of its minute interests, its petty local news ?

" In speaking of the lonely assassin dragging his burden to the shore, I have alreadysuggested the proba bility of his availing himself of a boat. Now we are to understand that Mnrie Rogfitwas precipitatedfroma boat. This would naturally have been the case. The corpse could not have been trusted to the shallow waters of the shore. The peculiar marks on the back and shoulders of the victim tell of the bottom ribs of a boat. That the bodywas found without weightis also corroborative of the idea. If thrown from the shore a weight would have been attached. We can only account for its absence by supposing the murderer to havoneglected the precaution of supplying himself with it before pushing off. In the act of consigning the corpse to the water he would un questionably have noticed his oversight; but then no remedy would have been at hand. Any risk would have been preferred to a return to that accursed shore. Having rid himself of his ghastly charge, the murderer would havehastened to the city; there, atsome obscure wharf, he would have leaped on land. But the boat would he have secured it? He would have been in too great haste for such tilings as aocuriug a boat. More over, in fastening it to the wharfhe would have felt as if securing evidence against himself. His natural thought would have been to cast from him, as far as possible, all that had held connexion with his crime. He would not only have fled from the wharf, but he would not have permitted the boat to remain. Assuredlyhe wouldhave cast it adrift. Let us pursue our fancies. Inthe morn ing, the wretch is stricken with unutterable horror at finding that the boat has been picked up aud detained at a locality which he is in the dailyhabit of frequenting at a locality, perhaps, which his duty compels him to frequent. The next night,without daring to askfor the

174 THE MYSTEBT OP MARIE ROOET.

rudder, he removes it. Now where is that rudderless boat ? Let it he one of our first purposes to discover. With the first glimpse we obtain of it the dawn of our success shall begin. This boat shall guide us with a rapidity which will surprise even ourselves, to him who employed it on the midnight of thejatal Sabbath. Cor roboration will rise upon corroboration, and themurderer will be traced."

The apparently slight clue here indicated by Dupin was followed up; and we may state, in conclusion, that the result desired was brought to pass ; and that the Prefect fulfilled punctually, although with reluctance, the terms ofhis compact with the Chevalier.

|felnmrit lietle

11 Nil wipicntiro odtoaius ncumine nlnlio."- Skneca. _

'There ht nothing mora odious In knowledge than too much noutonoas."

Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the au tumn of 18 , I was en joying the twofoldluxury ofmeditation and a meerschaum, in company with my friendkC. Auguste Dupin, in his little back library, or book-closet, an troisieme, No. 33, Rue Dunot, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour atlcastwchadmaintained a profoundsilence ; while each, to any casual observer, might have seemed intently and exclusively occu

17«

THE PURLOINED LETTER.

pied with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere ofthe chamber. For myself, however, I was mentally discussing certain topics which had formed matter for conversation between us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the affair of. the Rue Morgue, and the mystery attending the murder of ' MarieRoget. I looked upon it, therefore, as something ofacoincidence, when the door of our apartment was thrown open and admitted our old acquaintance, Mon sieur G - , the Prefectofthe Parisian police.

We gave him a hearty weleome; for there was. nearly halfas-much of the entertaining as of the con temptible abouttho man, awl we hail not soon him for several yearn. We had been sitting in the dark, and Dupin now arose for the purpose of lightinga lamp, but eat down again, without:doing so, upon G.'s sayings that he had called to consult ra, ot rather to ask the opinion- ofrdyfriend about some official business which had occasioned a great deal oftrouble.

"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed Dupin, as hoforebore to enkindle the wick, " we shall examine it to bettor purpose in the dark."

" That is another of your odd notions," said the prefect, who hud a fashion ofcalling everything " odd" thatwas beyond his comprehension,and thus livedamid an absolute legion of " oddities."

"Very true," said Dupin, as he supplied his visitor with a pipe, and rolledtowardshim a comfortable chair.

" And what is the difficulty now ?" I asked.

" Nothing more in the assassination way, I hope."

" Oh no ; nothing ofthat nature. The fact is, the business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt that we can manage it sufficiently well ourselves ; but then I thought Dupin would like to hear the details of it, because it is go excessively odd."

" Simple and odd," said Dupin.

" AVhy, yes ; and not exactly that, either. The fact is, we have all been a good deal puzzled be

THE rURLOlNED LETTER. ITT cause the affair is so simple, and yet baffles us al together."

" Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing -which puts you at fault," sa/d my friend.

" What nonsense you do talk!" replied the prefect, laughing heartily.

" Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain," said Dupin.

" Oh, good heavens !" who ever heard of such an idea?"

" A little too self-evident."

" Ha ! ha ! ha! ha ! ha! ha! ho ! ho ! ho! roared our visitor, profoundly amused ; " Oh, Dupin, you will be the death ofme yet."

" And what, after all, is the matter on hand ?" I asked.

" Why, I will tell you," replied the prefect, as he gavo a. long, steady, and contemplative puff, and settled himselfin his chair. " I will tell you in a few words ; but, before I begin, let mc caution you that this is an affair demandingthe greatest secrecy, and that I should most probably lose the position I now hold, were it known that I confided it to any one."

" Proceed," said I.

" Or not," said Dupin.

" Well,then ; I have receivedpersonal information, from a very high quarter, that a certain document of the last importance, has been purloined from the royal apartments. The individual who purloined it isknown; this beyond a doubt ; he was seen to take it. It is known, also, that it still remains in his possession."

" How is this known?" asked Dupin.

" It is clearly inferred," replied the prefect, " from the nature of the document, and from the non-appear ance of certain results which would at once arise from its passing out of the robber's possession ; that is to say, from his employing it as he must design in the end to employ it."

THE rURLOINKD LETTER.

" Be a little more explicit," I said.

" Well, I may venture so far as to saythat the paper gives its holder a certain power in a certain quarter. where such power is immenselyvaluable." The prefec was fond ofthe cant ofdiplomacy.

" Still I do not quite understand," said Dupin.

" No ? Well ; the disclosure of the document to a third person, who shall he nameless, would bring in question the honour of a personage of most exalted station ; and this fact gives the holder ofthe document an ascendancy over the illustrious personage whoso honour and peace are bojeopardized."

"Butthis ascendancy," I interposed, " would depend upon the robber's knowledge ofthe loser's knowledge ofthe robber. Who would dare "

"The thief," said G., " is the Minister D , who dares all things, those unbecoming as well as those becoming a man. The method ofthe theft was not less ingenious than bold. The document in question a letter, to bo frank hadbeenreceivedby the pcrsonago robbed while alono in .the rfcyal bowloir. During its perusal she was suddenlyinterruptedby the entrance of the other exalted personage, from whom especially it was her wish to conceal it. After a hurried and vain endeavour to thrust it in a drawer, she was forced to place it, open as it was, upon a table. The address, however, was uppermost, and, the contents thus un exposed, the letter escaped notice. At thisjuncture enters the Minister D . His lynx eye immediately perceives the paper, recognises the handwriting oftho address, observes the confusion of the personage ad dressed, and fathoms her secret. After some business transactions, hurried through inhisordinarymanner,he producesalettersomewhatsimilartotheoneinquestion, opens it, pretends to read it, and then places it in close juxtaposition to the other. Again he converses, for some fifteen minutes, upon the public affairs. At length, in takingleave, he takes also from the table the

THE TUKLOINED LETTER.

179

letter to which he had no claim. Its rightful owner saw, but, ofcourse, dared not call attention to the act, in the presence ofthe third personage who stoodat her elbow. The minister decamped, leaving his ownletter one ofno importance upon the table.''

" Here, then," said Dupin to me, " you have pre cisely what you demand to make the ascendancy com plete tho robber's knowledge ofthe loser's knowledge of the robber." -

" Yes," replied the prefect; and tho power. thusattained has, for some months past, been wielded,. for political purposes, to a very dangerous extent. The personage robbed is more thoroughly convinced, every day, of the necessity of reclaiming her letter. But this, of course, cannot be done openly. In fine, driven to despair, she has committed the matter to me."

" Than whom," said Dupin, amid a perfect whirl wind of smoke, " no more sagacious agent could, I suppose, be desired, or even imagined."

" You flatter me," replied the prefect ; " but it is possible that some such opinion may have been enter tained."

"It is clear," said I, "as you observe, that the letter is still in possession of the minister; since it is this possession, and not any employment of the letter, which bestows tho power. With tho employment tho power departs."

"True," said G. ; " and tipon this conviction I pro ceeded. My first care was to make thorough search of the minister's hotel; andhere my chiefembarrassment lay in the necessityofsearchingwithouthisknowledge. Beyond all things, I have been warned of the. danger which would result from giving him reason to.suspect our design."

" But," said I, " you are quite an fait in these in vestigations. The Parisian police have done this thing oftenbefore."

" 0 yes ; and for this reason I didnot despair. The

THE

LETTER.

habits of the minister gave me, too, a great advantage. He is frequently absent from home all night. His servants are by no means numerous. They sleep at. a distance from their master's apartment, and being chiefly Neapolitans, are readily made drunk. I have keys, as you know, with which I can openanychamber or cabinet in Paris. For three months, a night has not passed, during the greater part of which I have not been engaged, personally, in ransacking the D . . Hotel. My honour is interested, and, to mention a great secret, the reward is enormous. So I did not abandon the search until I had become fully satisfied that the thief is a moro astute man than myself. I funoy that I have investigated every nook and corner of the premises in which it is possible that the paper can be concealed."

"Butis itnotpossible," I suggested, "thatalthough the letter may be in possession of the minister, as it unquestionably is, he may have concealed it clscwhero than upon his own premises?"

"This isbarely possible," saidDupin. "The present peculiar condition of affairs at court, and especially of.those'intrigues-in which D - Iisknown-tobo involved, would render the instantavailabilityofthe document ' its susceptibility of being produced at a moment's notice a point of nearly equal importance with its possession."

" Its susceptibility ofbeing produced?" said I. " That is to say, of being destroyed," said Dupin. ::: "True," I observed; " the paper is clearly, then, upon thepremises. As for its being upon the person of theminister, we may consider that as out of the question."

"Entirely," said the prefect. " Hehas been twice waylaid, as if by footpads, and his person rigorously searched under my own inspection."

"You might nave spared yourself this trouble,". said Dupin. " D , I presume, is not altogether a

THE l'UULOINED LEITKR. 181 fool, and, if not, must have anticipated these waylayings, as a matter of course."

" Not altogether a fool," said G. ; "hut then he's a poet, which I take to he only one remove from a fool."

" True," said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful whiff from his meerschaum, "although I have been guilty of certain doggrel myself."

" Suppose you detail," said I, " the particulars of your search."

" Whythe fact is, we took ourtime, and wesearched evcrywliere. I have hadlong experience in these affairs. I took the entire building, room by room ; devoting the nights of a whole week to each. We examined, first, the furniture of each apartment. We opened every possible drawer ; and I presume you know that, to a properly trained police agent, such a thing as a secret drawer is impossible. Any man is a dolt who permits a ' secret' drawer to escape him in a search of this kind. The thing is so plain. There is a certain amount of bulk ofspace to be accounted for in cvory cabinet. Then we have accurate rules. The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. After the cabinets, we took the chairs. The cushions we probed with the fine long needlesyou have seen me employ. From the tables we removed the tops."

" Why so ?"

" Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged piece of furniture, is removed by the person wishing toconceal an article ; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within the cavity, and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of bed-posts are em ployed in the same way."

"But could notthe cavitybe detectedbysounding?" I asked.

" By no means, if, when the article is deposited, a sufficient wadding of cotton be placed around it. Be sides, in our case we were obliged to proceed without noise."

LETTER.

" But you could not have removed you could not have taken to pieces all articles of furniture in which it would have been possible to make a deposit in the manner you mention. A letter may bo compressed into a thm spiral roll, not differing much in shape or bulk from a large knitting-needle, and in this form it might be inserted into the rung ofa chair, for example. You did not take to pieces all the chairs?"

" Certainly not ; but we did better wc examined the rungs of every chair in the hotel, and, indeed, the jointings of every description of furniture, by the aid of a most powerful microscope. Had there been any traces ofrecent disturbance, we should not have failed to detect it instantly. A shiglo grain of gimlet-dust, for example, would nave been as obvious as an apple. Any disturbance in the glueing any unusual gaping in thejoints would have sufficed to insure detection."

" I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the boards and the plates, and you probed the beds and the bed-clothes, as well as the curtains and carpets."

" That,of course; andwhen we had absolutely com pleted every particle of the furniture in this way, then we examined the house itself. Wo divided its entire surface into compartments, which wo numbered, so that none might be missed ; then we scrutinized each individual square inch throughoutthe premises, includ ing the two houses immediately adjoining, with the microscope, as before."

"The two houses adjoining!" I exclaimed; you must have had a great deal oftrouble."

" Wo had ; but the roward offored is prodigious."

" You include thegrounds about the houses?"

" All the grounds are pavedwith brick. Theygave us comparatively little trouble. We examined the moss between the bricks, and found it undisturbed."

" You looked among D 's papers, ofcourse, and into the books ofthe library ?"

" Certainly ; we opened every package and parcel ;

THE rURLOINED LETTER.

183

we not only opened every book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume, not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion of some of our police officers. We also measured the thickness ofevery hook-cover, with the most accurate admeasure ment, and applied to each the most jealous scrutiny of the microscope. Hadany ofthebindingsbeenrecently meddled with, it would have been utterly impossible that the fact should have escaped observation Some five or six volumes, just from tho hands of the binder, we carefully probed, longitudinally, with the needles."

" You explored the floors beneath the carpets ?"

" Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined the boards with the microscope."

"And the paper on the walls ?"

"Yes."

" You looked into the cellars ?"

" We did."

" Then," I said, " you have been making a miscal culation, and the letter is not upon the premises, as you suppose."

" I fear you are right there," said the prefect. " And now, Dupin, what would you advise me to do?"

" To make a thorough research ofthe premises."

" That is absolutely needless," replied G . " I am not more sure that I breathe than I am that the letter is not at the hotel."

" I have no better advice to give you," said Dupin. "You have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?"

"Oh yes!" and here the prefect, producing a memorandum-book, proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the internal, and especially of the external, appearance of the missing document. Soon after finishing tho perusal of this description, he took his departure, more entirely depressed in spirits than I had ever known the good gentleman before.

THE

LETTER.

In about a :month afterwards he paid us another visit, and found us occupied very nearly as before. He took a pipe and a chair, and entered into some ordinary conversation. At length I Baid:

" Well, but G , what of the purloined letter ? I presume you have at last made up your mind that there is no such thing as overreaching theminister ?"

"Confound him, say I yes ; I madethere-examin ation, however, as .Dupin suggested ; but it was all labour lost, as I knew it would be."

" How much was tho reward offered, did you say?" asked Dupin.

" Why, a very great deal a very liberal reward T don't like to say how much, precisoly ; but ono thing I will say, that I wouldn't mind giving my individual check for fifty thousand francs to any one who could obtain me that letter. The fact is, it is becoming of more and more importance every day ; and the reward has been Lately doubled. If it were trebled, however, I could do no more than I have done."

" Why, yes," said Dupin, drawlingly, between tho whiffs of his meerschaum, " I really think, G , you have not exerted yourself to the utmost in this matter. You might do a little more, I think, eh ?"

. " How? in whatway?"

'.' Why puff, puff you might puff, puff employ counsel in the matter, eh? puff, puff, puff. Do you remember the story they tell ofAbernethy ? "

" No ; hang Abernethy ! "

" To be sure ! hang him and weleome. But, once upon a time, a certain rich miser conceived the design ofApungingupon this Abernethyfor a medical opinion. Getting up, for.this purpose, an ordinary conversation in a private company, he insinuated his case to the physician, as that ofan imaginary individual.

" 'We willsuppose,' said the miser, ' thathis symp toms are such and such ; now, doctor, what would you have directed him to take?'

THE rUIU.OINED LETTER.

185

" ' Take !' 6aid Abernethy, ' why, take advice, to be sure' "

" But," said the prefect, a little discomposed, " I am perfectly willing to take advice, and to pay for it. I would really give fifty thousand francs to any one who would aid me in the matter."

" In that case," replied Dupin, opening a drawer, and producing a check-book, "you may as well fill me up a check for the amount mentioned. When you have signed it, I will hand you the letter."

I was astounded. The prefect appeared absolutely thunderstricken. For some minutes he remained speechless and motionless, looking incredulously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that seemed starling from their sockets ; then, apparently recover ing himself in some measure, he seized a pen, and after several pauses and vacant stares, finally filled up and signed a check for fifty thousand francs, and handed it across tho table to Dupin. The latter ex amined it carefully and deposited it in hispocket-book; then, unlocking an escritoire, took thence a letter and gave it to the prefect. This functionary grasped it in a perfect agony of joy, opened it with' a trembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents, and then, scrambling andstruggling to the door, rushed at length unceremoniously from tho room and from the house, without having uttered a syllabic since Dupin had requested himto fill up the check.

When he had gone, my friend entered into some explanations.

" The Parisian police," he said, "are exceedingly able in their way. They are persevering, ingenious, cunning, and thoroughlyversed inthe knowledge which theirduties seem chieflyto demand. Thus,whenG detailed to us his mode of searching the premises at the Hotel D , I felt entire confidence in his having made a satisfactory investigation, so far as his labours extended."

THE PUItLOINED LETTER.

" So far as his labours 'extended?" said I. " Yes," said Dupin. "The measures adopted were not only the best of their kind, but carried out to absolute perfection. Had the letter been deposited within the range of their search, these fellows would, beyond a question, have found it."

I merely laughed but he seemed quite serious in all that he said.

" The measures, then," he continued, " were good in their kind, and well executed ; their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case, and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources aro, with the profeot, a sort of Procrustean bed, to which ho forcibly adapts his designs. But he perpetually cits by being too deep or too shallow for the matter in hand ; and many a schoolboy is a better reasoner than he. I knew one about eight years of age, whose suc cess atguessing in the game of' even and odd' attracted universal ' admiration. This game is simple, and is played with marbles, One player holds in his hand' a number'of these toys, and demands of another whe ther that number is even or odd. If the guess is right, tho guosser'wins ono; if wrong, ho loses one. The boy to whom I allude won all the marbles of the school. Ofcourse he had some principle of guessing; and this lay in mere observation and admeasurement of the astuteness of his opponents. 'For example, an arrant simpleton is his opponent, and, holding up his closed hand, asks, 'are they even orodd ?' Ourschool boy replies ' odd,' and loses ; but upon tho second trial ho wins, for ho then says to himself, 'tho simpleton had them even upon the first trial, and his amount of cunning isjust sufficient to make him have them odd upon the second; I will therefore guess odd;' heguesses odd, and wins. Now, with a simpleton a degree above the first, he would have reasoned thus : ' This fellow finds that in the first instance I guessed odd, and, in the second, he will propose to himself,

THE PURLOINED LETTER. 187

upon the first impulse, a simple variation from even to odd, as did the first simpleton ; but then a second thought will suggest that this is too simple a variation, and finally he will decide upon putting it even as be fore. I will therefore guess even ;' he guesses even, and wins. Now this mode of reasoning in the school boy, whom his fellows termed ' lucky,' what, in its last analysis, is it i"

" It is merely," I said, " an identification of tho reasoner's intellect with that ofhis opponent."

" It is," said Dupin ; " and, upon inquiring of the boy by what means he effected the thorough identifi cation in which his success consisted, I received answer as follows: 'When I wish to find out how wise, or how stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one, or what are his thoughts at the moment, I fashion the expression of my face, as accurately as possible, in accordance with tho expression of his, and then wait to sco what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind or heart, as if to match or correspond with the expres sion.' This response of the schoolboy lies at the bottom of all the spurious profundity which has been attributed to Rochefoucault, to La Bougive, to Machiavelli, and to Campanella."

" And the identification," I said, " ofthe reasoner's intellect with that ofhis opponent, depends, ifI under stand you aright, upon tho accuracy with which tlu> opponent's intellect is admeasured."

" For its practical value, it depends upon this," replied Dupin; "and the prefect and his cohort fail so frequently, first, by defaultofthis identification, and secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather' through non-admeasurement, of the intellect1 with which they are engaged. They consider only their own ideas of ingenuity; and, in" searching' for anything hidden, advert only to the modes in which they would have hidden it. They are right in this much that their own ingenuity is a faithful representative of that of

THE

LETTER.

the mass; but when the cunning of the individual felonisdiverseincharacterfromtheirown,thefelonfoils them, ofcourse. 'This alwayshappens when it is above their own, and very usually when it is below. They have no variation ofprinciple in their investigation ; at best,when urged by someunusualemergency by some extraordinary reward they extend or exaggerate their old modes ofpractice, without touchingtheir principles. What, for example, in this case of D , has been done to vary the principle of action ? What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, and scrutinizing with the microscope, and dividing the surface of tho building into registered square inches what is it all but an exaggeration of the application of the one prin ciple or set of principles of search, which are based upon the one set ofnotionsregarding human ingenuity, to which the prefect, in the long routine ofhis duty, has been accustomed ? Do you not see he has taken it for granted that all men proceed to conceal a letter, not exactly in a gimlet-hole bored in a chair-leg ; but, at least, insome out-of-the-wayhole or corner suggested by the samo tenor of thought which would urge a man to secrete a letterin a gimlet-holeboredin a chair, leg ? And do you not see also, that such recherches nooks for concealment are adapted only for ordinary occasions, and would be adopted only by ordinary in tellects ; for, in all cases of concealment, a disposal of tho article concealed a disposal of it in this recherche manner, is, in the very first instance, presumable and presumed; and thus its discovery depends, not at all upon the acumen, but altogether upon the mere care, patience, and determination ofthe seekers ; and where the case is of importance or, what amounts to the same thing in the policial eyes, when the reward is of magnitude, the qualities in question have never been known to fail. You willnow understandwhat I meant in suggesting that, hadthepurloinedletter been hidden any where within the limits of the prefect's cxami

THE

rUlUOINF.D LETTER.

189 nation in other words, had the principle of its con cealment been comprehended within the principles of the prefect its discovery would have been a matter altogether beyond question. This functionary, how ever, has been thoroughly mystified ; and the remote source of his defeat lies in the supposition that the minister is a fool, because he has acquired renown as a poet. All fools arc poets this the prefect feels; and he is merely guilty of a -non dislributio medii in thence inferring that all poets are fools."

" But is this really the poet?" I asked. " There arc two brothers, I know; and both have attained reputationinletters. Theminister,Ibelieve,has written learnedly on the Differential Calculus. He is a mathe matician, and no poet."

" You arc mistaken ; I know him well ; he is both. As poet and mathematician, he would reason well ; as mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the mercy of the prefect."

" You surprise me," I said, " by these opinions, which havebeen contradictedby the voice oftheworld. You do not mean to set at naught the well-digested idea of centuries. The mathematical reason has long been regarded as the reasonpar excellence."

" ' II y a a paricr,' " replied Dupin, quoting from Chamfort, " ' que toula idee publiqne, tonic convention recite, est unc soitise, car elle a convenua an plus grana nombre.' The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate the popularerror to which you allude, and which is none the less an error for its pro mulgationas truth. With an artworthy abetter cause, for example, they have insinuated the tern/' analysis' into application to algebra. The French are the origi nators ofthis particular deception ; but if a term is of any importance ifwords derive any value from appli cability then ' analysis' conveys ' algebra' about as much as, in Latin, ' ambitus' implies ' ambition,' ' reliffio' ' religion,' or 'homines honesti,' a set of honourable men."

THE PURLOINED LETTER.

" Youhave a quarrel on hand, I see," said I, " with some ofthe algebraists of Paris ; but proceed."

" I mean to say," continued Dupin, " that if the minister had beenno more than a mathematician, the prefect would have been under no necessity of giving me this check. I knew him, however, as both mathe matician and poet, and my measures were adapted to his capacity, with reference to the circumstances by which he was surrounded. I knew him, however, as a courtier, too, and as a bold intriguant. Such a man, I considered, could not fail to be awaro of the ordinary policial modes of action. He could not have failed to anticipate and events havo proved that ho did not fail to anticipate tho waylayings to which ho was sub jected. He must have foreseen, I reflected, the secret investigations of his premises. His frequent absences from home at night, which were hailed by the prefect as certain aids to his success, I regarded only as ruses, to afford opportunityfor thorough search to the police, andthusthe sooner to impressthemwith the conviction to which G , in fact, did finally arrive the con viction that tho letter was not upon tho premises. I felt, also, that tho whole train ofthought, which I was at some pains in detailing toyou just now, concerning the invariable principle of policial action in searches for articles concealed I felt that this whole train of thought would necessarily pass throughtho mindoftho minister. It would imperatively lead him to despise all the ordinary nooks of concealment. He could not, I reflected, be so weak as not to see that the most intricate and remote recess of his hotel would bo as open as his commonest closets to the eyes, to the probes, to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of the prefect. I saw, in fine, that he would be driven, as a matter of course, to simplicity, if not deliberately in duced to it ;is a matter ofchoice. Youwill remember, perhaps, how desperately the prefect laughed when I suggested, upon our first interview, that it was just

THJE PURLOINED LETTER.

181

possible this mystery troubled him so much on account of its being so very self-evident."

"Yes," said I, " I remember his merrimentwell. I really thought he would have fallen into convulsions." >

"The material world," continued Dupin, " abounds with very strict analogies to the immaterial; and thus some colour of truth has been given to the rhetorical dogma, that metaphor, or simile, may be made "to strengthen an argument, as well as to embellish a description. The principle of the vis inertia;, for ex ample, seems to be identicalinphysiesandmetaphysies. It is not more true in the former, that a large body is with more difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, and that its subsequent momentum is commensurate withthis difficulty, thanit is in thelatter, thatintellects of tho vaster capacity, while more forcible, more con stant, and more eventfulin their movements than thoso of inferior grade, are yet the less readily moved, and more embarrassed and full of hesitation in tho first few Bteps oftheir progress. Again: have youevernoticed which of the street signs, over the shop-doors, are the most attractive ofattention?"

" I have never given the matter- a thought," I said. " There is agame ofpuzzles," he resumed, " which is played upon a map. One party playing requires another to find a given word-^-tno namo oftown, river, state, or empire any word, in short, upon tho motley and perplexed surface of the chart. A novice in the game generally seeks to embarrass his opponents by givingthemthe most minutelylettered names; but the adept selects suoh words as stretch, in large characters, from one end ofthe chart to the other. These, like the Over-largelylettered signs and placards ofthe street, es cape observation by dint ofbeing excessively obvious ; and here the physical oversight is precisely analagous with the moral inapprehension by which the intellect suffers to pass unnoticed those considerations which aro too obtrusivelyand too palpablyself-evident. But this

THE PURLOINED LETTEE.

is a point, it appears, somewhat above or beneath the understanding of the prefect. He never once thought it probable, or possible, thatthe minister had deposited the letter immediately beneath the nose of the whole world, by way of best preventing any portion of that world from perceiving it.

"But the more I reflecteduponthe daring,dashing, and discriminating ingenuity of D ; upon the fact that the document must always have been at hand, if he intended to use it to good purpose ; and upon the decisive evidence, obtained by the prefect, that it was not hidden within thelimits ofthatdignitary's ordinary search the moro satisfiod I became) that, to conceal this letter, the minister had resorted to the compre hensive and sagacious expedient of not attempting toconceal it at all. . -i

" Full ofthese ideas, I prepared myselfwith a pair of green spectacles, and called one fine morning, quite by accident, at the ministerial hotel. I found D at home, yawning, lounging, and dawdling, as usual, and pretending to be in the last extremity of ennui. He is, perhaps, the most really energetic human being now alive but that is only when nobody sees him.

"To be even with him, I complained of my weak eyes, and lamented the necessity of the>spectacles, under cover of which I cautiously and thoroughly sur veyed thewhole apartment, while seeminglyintentonlyupon the conversation ofmy host. m J I < :.

"I paid especial attention to a large writing-table near which he sat, and upon which lay confusedly, some miscellaneous letters and other papers, with one or two musical instruments and a few books. Here, however, after a long and very deliberate scrutiny, I saw nothing to excite particular suspicion. . . . :->>--- "At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room, fell upon a trumpery fillagree card-rack ofpaste board, that hung dangling by a dirty blue ribbon, from a little- brass knob just beneath the middle of the

THE PURLOINED LETTER.

168' mantel-piece. In this rack, which had three or four compartments, were five or six visiting cards and a solitaryletter. Thislast was muchsoiled and crumpled. It was torn nearly in two, across the middle as if a design, in the first instance, to tear it entirely up as worthless, had been altered, or stayed in the second. It had a large black seal, hearing the D cipher very conspicuously, and was addressed, in a diminutive female hand to D , tho minister himself. It was thrustcarelessly,andeven, asitseemed,contemptuously, into one ofthe uppermost divisions of the rack.

"No sooner had I glanced at this letter, than I; concluded it to be that of which I was in search. ; To be sure it was, to all appearance radically different; from the one ofwhichthe prefect hadreadus sominute a description. Here the seal was large and black, with the D - cipher ; there it was small and red, with the ducat arms of the S family. Here, the address to the minister, was diminutive and feminine ; there the superscription, to a certain royal personage, was markedly bold and decided ; the size alone formed a point of correspondence. But, then, the radicalness of these differences, which was excessive ; the dirt; the soiled and torn condition of the paper, so incon sistent with the true methodical habits of D , and so suggestivo of a design to deludo tho beholder into an idea of the worthlessness of the document; these things, together with the hyper-obtrusive situation of this document, full in the view of every visitor, and thus exactly in accordance with the conclusions to which I had previously arrived ; these things, I say, were strongly corroborative of suspicion, in one who came with the intention to suspect.

" I protracted my visit as long as possible, and, while I maintained a most animated discussion with the minister, upon a topic which I knew well had never failed to interest and excite him, I kept my attention really rivetted upon the letter. In this ex 7. ii

LETTEE.

amination, I committed to memory its external appear ance and arrangement in the rack ; and also fell, at length, upon a discovery which set at rest whatever trivial doubt Imighthave entertained. In scrutinizing the edges of the paper, I observed them to be more chafed than seemed necessary. They presented the broken appearance which is. manifested when a stiff paper,havingbeenoncefoldedandpressedwith afolder, is refolded inareverseddirection,inthe same creases or edgeswhichhadformedthe originalfold. Thisdiscovery was sufficient. Itwas cleartome thatthe letterhadbeen turned, as n glove inside out, re-directed, and ro-sealcd. Ibade the ministergood morning, andtookmydeparture at once, leaving a gold snuff-box upon the table.

" The next morning I called for the snuff-box,when we resumed, quite eagerly, the conversation of the pre ceding day. While thus engaged, however, a loud report, as ifofa pistol, was heard immediately beneath the windows ofthehotel, and was succeeded by a series of fearful screams, and the shoutings of a terrified mob. D rushed to a casement, threw it open, and looked out. In the meantime, I stepped tothe card-rack, took the letter, put it in mypocket,.and replaced it by a.fac simile, (so far as regards externals), which I had care fully prepared .at my lodgings imitating the D cipher very readily, by means ofa seal formed ofbread.

"The disturbance in thestreethadbeenoccasionedby the frantic behaviour of a manwith a musket. He had fireditamongacrowdofwomenandchildren. Itproved, however, to have been without ball, and the fellow was sufferedtogo his way asalunaticor a drunkard. When he had gone, D came- from the window, whither I had followed him immediately upon securing the object in view,;.| Soon afterwards I bade,him farewell. : The pretended lunatic was a man in my own pay." -.- .

- ,J' 3ut whatpurposehadyou," I asked, " in replacing the letter by afacsimile? Would it not have been better, at the firRt visit, to have seized it openly, andde parted?" ,4

TUB. PURLOINED LETTER.

195

" D ," replied Dupin, " is a desperate man, and a man off nerve. His hotel, too,. is not without at tendants devoted to his interests. Had I made the wild! attempt you suggest, I might never have left the ministerial! presence alive. The? good people of Paris might have heardofme no more.. But I had an object, apart. ftom these considerations. You know my poli tical' prepossessions. In this matter, Iact as a partisan ofthe lady concerned!. For eighteen months the ministei) has had.her in histpower. She lias- now him in hers since,- being unaware that the letteo is not in his:possession], he-will proceed! with hiaexactions as if it waSi Thus will he inevitably commit himself at once? to. his political destruction. His: downfeU* too, will not be- mats;precipitate than awkward.. It is all verywell to talk tioovisthe/acilis descensusAvorni,*- but in allkinds of elSinhiiag, as Catalani said of singing, it is for-more easyto getup,than to comeidown-.. In the present instance.^1 have no sympathy at least.no pity foehimwho.descends. He-is that monstnum horrendum an, uaprimciiplted! man elfgenius. 1 confess, however, that I should like- very well to know the; precise character- of hi* thoughts^ when,, beikigc defied By her whom, the psefect terms ' a eertaini personage,' he is reduced to opening- the letter which I left for him in the card-sack.

" How ? did you put anything particular in it?"

" Why -it did not seem altogether'sight to leave the interior blank that would have been insulting. D , at Vienna once, did me an evil turn, which I told him, quite good-humouredly, that I should re-member. So, as I knew he wouldfeel some curiosity in regard to the identity of the person who had out witted him, I thought it a pity not to give him a clue. He is well acquainted with my MS., and I just copied, into the middle ofthe blank sheet the words 1 ' So dire a Isproject worthy of Thycstos, If not of Atrani." They are to be found in Crebillon's ' Atree.' " h 2

<t))t Ifixmftm burial.

The^e are certain themes, ofwhich the interest is allabsorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes oflegitimate fiction. These the mere romant icist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend, or to disgust. They are with propriety handled, only when the severity and majesty of truth sanctify and sustain them. We thrill, for oxample, with the most intense

THE PREMATURE BURIAL. 197

of " pleasurable pain" over the accounts of the Passage of the Beresina, of the Earthquake at Lisbon, of the Plague at London, of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, or ofthe stifling of the hundred and*twenty-three pri soners in the Black Hole at Calcutta. But, in these accounts, it is the fact it is the reality it is the his tory which excites. As inventions, we should regard them with simple abhorrence.

I have mentioned some few of the more prominent and august calamities on record; but, in these, it is the extent, not less than the character of the calamity, which so vividly impresses the fancy. I need not re mind the readerthat, from the long andweird catalogue of human miseries, I might have selected many indi vidual instances more replete with essential suffering than any ofthese vast generalities ofdisaster. The true wretchedness, indeed, the ultimate woe, is particular, not diffuse. . That the ghastly extremes of agony are endured by man, the unit, and never by man, the massfor this let us thank a merciful God! ,-

To be buried while alive, is, beyond question, the most terriflic ofthese extremes which has ever fallen to the lot ofmere mortality. That it has frequently, very frequently, so fallen, will scarcely be denied by those who think. The boundaries which divido life fromdeath, are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? We know that there are diseases inwhich occur total cessa tions of all the apparent functions ofvitality, and yet in which these cessations are merely suspensions, properly so called. They are only temporary pauses in the incomprehensible mechanism. Acertainperiod elapses, and some unseen mysterious principle again sets in motion the magic pinions and the wizard wheels. The silver cord was not for ever loosed, nor the golden bow' irreparably broken. Bnt where, meantime, was the soul?

Apart, however, from the inevitable conclusion,

Ug THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

a priori, that such causes must produce such effects that the well-known occurrence of such cases of sus pended animation must naturally give rise, now and then, to premature interments apart from this con sideration, we have the direct testimony ofmedical and ordinary experience to prove that a vast number of such interments have actually taken place. I might refer at once, if necessary, to a hundred well authenti cated instances. One of very remarkable character occurred, not very long ago, in the city of Baltimore, where it occasioned a painful, intense, and widely extended excitement. Tho wife of ono of tho moat respectable citizens a lawyer of eminence and a mem ber of Congress was seized with a sudden and unac countable illness, which completely baffled the skill ot her physicians. After much suffering, she died, or was supposed to die. No one suspected, indeed, or had reason to suspect, that she was not actually dead. She presented all the ordinary appearances of death. The face assumedtheusualpinchedand sunken outline. The lips were of the usual marble pallor. The eyes were lustreless. There was no warmth. Pulsation had ceased. For three' days the body was preserved unburied, during which ithad acquired a stony rigidity. The funeral, in short, was hastened, on account of the rapid advance of what was supposed to be decompo sition.

The lady was deposited in her family vault, which, for three subsequent years, was undisturbed. At the expiration ofthis term, it was opened for the reception ofa sarcophagus; but, alas! how fearful a shock awaited the husband, who,personally, threw open the door. As its portals swungoutwardlyback, some white-apparelled Object fell rattlingwithin his arms. Itwas the skeleton ofhis wife inher yettmmouldered shroud.

A careful investigation rendered it evident that she had revived within two days after her entombment that her struggleswithin the cofHn had caused it tofall

THE PREMATURE BURIAL. 1J9

from a ledge, or shelf, to the floor, where it was so broken as to permit her escape. A. lamp which had been accidentally left, full of oil, within the tomb, was found empty; it might have been exhausted, however, by evaporation. On the uppermost of the steps which led down into the dread chamber, was a large fragment ofthe coffin,with whichitseemed she had endeavoured to arrest attention, by striking the iron door. While thus occupied, she probably swooned, or possibly died, through sheer terror;'and, m falling, her shroudbecame entangled in some iron-workwhichprojected interiorly. Thus she remained, and thus she rotted, erect.

In the year 1810, a case of living inhumation hap pened in France, attended with circumstances which go far to warrant the assertion, that truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction. The heroine of the story was, a Mademoiselle Victorino Lafourcadc, a young girl of illustrious family, of wealth, and of great personal beauty. Among her numerous suitors was Julien Bossuet, a poor litterateur, or journalist, of Paris. His talents and general amiability had recommended himto the1 notice of the heiress, by whom he seems to have been truly beloved; but her pride of birth decided her, finally, to reject him, and to wed a Monsieur Renelle, a banker, and a diplomatist of some eminence.- After marriage, however, this gentleman nogloeted, and, per haps, even more positively ill-treated her. Having passed with him some wretched years, she died, -at least her condition So closely resembled death as to deceive every one who saw her. She was buried not in a vault but in an ordinary grave in the village of her nativity. Filled with despair, and-still inflamed by the memory of a profound attachment, the lover jour neys from the capital to the remote province in which the village lies, with the romantic purpose of disinter ring the corpse, and possessing himself of its luxuriant iresscs. He reaches the grave. At midnight he un earths the. coffin, opens it, and is in the actot detaching

200

THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

the hair, when he is arrested by the unclosing of the beloved eyes. In fact, the lady had been buried alive. Vitality had not altogether departed ; and she was aroused, by the caresses of her lover, from the lethargy which had been mistaken for death. He bore her fran-. tically to his lodgings in the village. He employed certain powerful restoratives,- suggested by no little medical learning. In fine, she revived. She recognized her preserver. She remained with him until, by slow degrees, she fully recovered her original health. Her woman's heart was not adamant, and this last lesson of love sufficed to soften it. She bestowed it upon Bossuet. She returned no more to her husband, but con cealing from him her resurrection, fled with her lover to America. Twentyyears afterwards, the tworeturned to France, in the persuasion that time had so greatly altered the lady's appearance,that her friends would be unable to recognize her. They were mistaken, how ever; for, at the first meeting, Monsieur Renelle did actually recognize, and make claim to his wife. This claim she resisted; and ajudicial tribunal sustained her in her resistance deciding, that the peculiar circum stances, with the long lapse of years, had extingushed, not only equitably, but legally, the authority of the husband.

In the Chirurgical Journal of Leipsic, a periodical of high authority and merit, a very distressing event of the character in question was recently recorded :

An officer ofartillery, a man ofgigantic stature, and ofrobust health, being thrown from an unmanageable horse, received a very severe contusion upon the head, which rendered him insensible at once. The skull was slightlyfractured; but no immediate danger was appre hended. Trepanning'was accomplished successfully. He was bled, and many other of the ordinary means of reliefwere adopted. Gradually, however, he fell into a more and more hopeless state of stupor; and, finally, it was thought that he died.

THH PREMATURE BUKIAL.

201

The weather was wann ; and he was buried, with indecent haste, in one of the public cemeteries. His funeral took place on Thursday. On the Sunday fol lowing, the grounds of the cemetery were, as usual, much thronged with visitors; and, about noon, an in tense excitement was created by the declaration of a peasant, that, while sitting upon the grave ofthe officer, he had distinctly felt a commotion of the earth, as if occasioned by some one struggling beneath. At first, little attention was paid to the man's asseveration ; but his evident terror, andthe dogged obstinacywith which he persisted in his story, had at length their natural effect upon the crowd. Spadeswerehurriedlyprocured, and the grave, which was shamefully shallow, was, in a few minutes, so far thrown open, that the head of its occupant appeared. He was then, seemingly, dead; but he satnearlyerectwithinhis coffin, the lidofwhich, in his furious struggles, he had partially uplifted.

He was forthwith conveyed to the nearest hospital, and there pronounced to be still living, although in an asphytic condition. After some hours he revived, re cognised individuals ofhis acquaintance, and,in broken sentences, spoke ofhis agonies in the grave.

From what he related, it was clear that he must have been conscious of life for more than an hour, whilo inhumed, before lapsing into insensibility. The grave was carelessly and loosely filled with an exceed ingly porous soil ; and thus some air was necessarily admitted. He heard the footsteps of the crowd over head, and endeavoured to make himself heard in turn. It was the tumult within the grounds of the cemetery, he said, which appeared to awaken him from a deep sleep ; but no sooner was he awake than he became fully aware ofthe awful horrors ofhis position.

This patient, it is recorded, was doing well, and seemed to be in a fair way of ultimate recovery, but fell a victim to the quackeries of medical experiment. The galvanic battery was applied ; and he suddenly H*

302 THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

expired in one ofthose eestatic paroxysms which, occa sionally, it superinduces.

The mention of the galvanic battery, nevertheless, recalls to my memory a well-known and very extra ordinary ease in point, where its action proved the means of restoring to animation a young attorney of London, who had been interred for two days. This occurred in f831, and created, at the time, a very pro found sensation wherever it was made the subject of converse.

i 'jr'fho patient, Mr. Edward Stapleton, had died, appa rently, oftyphus fever, accompanied with somo anoma lousysymptoms which had excited the curiosity of Ids medical attendants. Upon his seeming decease, his friends were requested to sanction a post mortem exa mination, but declined to permit it. As often happens, when such refusals are made, the practitioners resolved to disinter the body and dissect it at leisure, in private. Arrangements were easily effected with some of the numerous corps of body-snatchers with which London. then.iabounded; and, upon the third night after the funeral, the supposed corpse was unearthed from a grave eight.feet deep, and deposited in the operating chamber ofone ofthe private hospitals.

An incision of some extent had been actually made in the abdomen, when the fresh and undecayed appear ance of the subject suggested an application of the battery. One experiment succeeded another, and.;the customary effects supervened, with nothing to charac-. terize thorn in any respect, except, upon one or two occasions, a more-than ordinary degree Of life-likeness in the convulsive action.

'_"It grew late. The day was about to dawn; and it was thought expedient, at length, to proceed at once to the dissection. A student, however, was especially desirous of testing a theory of his own, and insisted upon applying the battery to one of the pectoral muscles. A rough gash was made, and a wire hastily

THE PREMATURE BURIAL. aOX

brought in contact; when the patient, with a hurried, but quite unconvulsive movement, arose from the table, stepped into the middle of the floor, gazed about him uneasily for a few seconds, and then spoke. "What he said was unintelligible ; but words were uttered ; the syllabification was distinct. Having spoken, he fell heavily to the floor.

For some moments all were paralyzed with awe ; but the urgency of the case soon restored them their presence ofmind. It was seen that Mr. Stapleton was alive, although in a swoon. Upon exhibition of ether, he revived and was rapidly restored to health, and to the society of his friends from whom, however, all knowledge of his resuscitation was withheld, until a relapsewas no longer to be apprehended. Their wonder their rapturous astonishment may be conceived.

The mostthrillingpeculiarity ofthis incident, never theless, is involved in what Mri S. himself asserts. He declares that at no period was he altogether insensible that, dully and confusedly, he was aware of every thing which happened to him, from the moment in which he was pronounced dead by his physicians, to that in which he fell swooning to the floor of the hos pital. " I am alive," werf the uncomprehended words which, upon recognising the locality of tho dissect ing room, ho had endeavoured, in his extremity, to utter.

It were an easy matter to multiply such histories as those ; but I forbear ; for, indeed, we have no need of such to establish the fact that premature interments occur. When we reflect how very rarely, from the nature of the case, we have it in our power to detect them, we must admit that they may frequently occur without our cognizance. Scarcely, in truth, is a grave yard ever encroached upon, for any purpose, to any great extent, that skeletons arc not found in postures which suggest the most fearful ofsuspicions.

Fearful, indeed, the suspicion but more fearful the h* 2

THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

doom ! It may be asserted, without hesitation, that no event is so terriblywell adapted to inspire the supremeness ofbodily and ofmental distress, as is burial before death. The unendurable oppression of the lungs the stifling fumes of the damp earth the clinging to the death-garments the rigid embrace ofthe narrow house the blackness of the absolute Night the silence like a sea that overwhelms the unseen but palpable pre sence of the Conqueror Worm these things, with thoughts of tho air and grass above, with memory of dear friends who would fly to save us if but informed of our fate, andwith consciousness that ofthis fate thoy canneverbo informed that our hopeless portion is that of the really dead these considerations, I say, carry into the heart, which still palpitates, a degree ofappal ling and intolerable horror from which the most daring imagination must recoil. We know of nothing so ago nizing upon earth we can dream of nothing half so hideous in the. realms of the nethermost hell. And thus all narratives upon this topic have an interest profound; an interest, nevertheless, which, through the sacred awe of the topic itself, very properly and very peculiarly depends upon our conviction of the truth of the matter narrated. What I have now to tell, is ofmy own actualknowledge ofmyownpositive and personal experience :

For several years, I had been subject to attacks of the singular disorder which physicians have agreed to term catalepsy, in default of a more definitive title. Although both the immediate and tho predisposing causes, and even the actual diagnosis of this disease, are still mysterious, its obvious and apparent character is sufficiently well understood. Its variations seem to be chiefly ofdegree. Sometimes the patient lies, for a day only, or even for a shorter period, in a species of exaggerated lethargy. Ho is senseless and externally motionless; but the pulsation ofthe heart is still faintlyperceptible; some traces of warmth remain ; a slight

colour lingers -within the centre of the cheek; and, upon application of a mirror to the lips, we can defect a torpid, unequal, and vacillating action of the lungs. Then, again, the duration of the trance is for weeks even for months; while the closest scrutiny, and the most rigorous medical tests, fail to establish any mate rial distinction between the state of the sufferer and what wc conceive of absolute death. Very usually, he is saved from premature interment solely by the know ledge of his friends that he has been previously subject to catalepsy, by the consequent suspicion excited, and, aboveall, bythenon-appearance ofdecay. Theadvances ofthe maladyare, luckily, gradual. The first manifesta tions, although marked, are unequivocal. The fits grow successively more and more distinctive, and endure each for a longer term than the preceding. In this lies the principal security from inhumation. The unfortunate whose first attack should be of the extreme character which is occasionally seen, would almost inevitably be consigned alive to the tomb.

My own case differed in no important particular from those mentioned in medical books. Sometimes, without any apparent cause, I sank, little by little, into a condition of semi-syncope, or hub? swoon; and, in this condition, without pain, without ability to stir, or, strictly speaking, to think, but with a dull lethargic consciousness of life and of the presence of those who surrounded my bed, I remained, until the crisis of the disease restored me, suddenly, to perfect sensation. At other times, I was quickly and impetuously smitten. I grew sick, and numb, and chilly, and dizzy, and so fell prostrate at once. Then, for weeks, all was void, and black, and silent, and Nothing became the universe. Total annihilation could be no more. From these latter attacks I awoke, however,with a gradation slow in pro portion to the suddenness of the seizure. Just as the day dawns to the friendless and houseless beggar who roams the streets throughout the long desolate winter

toe THE PUKMATURE BURIAL.

night just so tardily 'just sowearily just so cheerily came back the light ofthe soul to me.

Apart from the tendency to trance, however, my general health appeared to be good; nor could I per ceive that it was at all effected by the one prevalent malady unless, indeed, an idiosyncrasy in myordinary sleep may be looked upon as superinduced. Upon awaking from slumber, I could never gain, at once, thorough possession ofmy senses,and always remained, for many minutes, in much bewilderment and perplex ity ; the mental faculties in general, but the memory especially, being in a condition ofabsolute abeyance.

In all that I ondurcd, there was no physical Buffer ing, but ofmoral distress an infinitude. My fauoy grew oharnel. I talked " ofworms, oftombs, and epitaphs." I was lost in reveries of death, and the idea of prema ture burial held continual possession ofmy brain. The ghastly danger to which I was subjected, haunted me dayand night. In the former, the torture ofmeditation was excessive in the latter, supreme. When the grim darkness overspread the earth, then, with very horror of thought, I shook shook as tho quivering plumes upon the hearse. "When nature could enduro wakeful ness no longer, it was with a struggle that I consented to sleep -for I shuddered to reflect that,upon awaking, I might find myselfthe tenant ofa grave. And when, finally, I sank into slumber, it was only to rush at once into a world of phantasms, above which, with vast, sable, overshadowing wings, hovered, predominant, the one sepulchral idea.

Phantasies such as these, presenting themselves at night, extended their terrific influence far into my waking hours. My nerves became thoroughly un strung, and I fell a prey to perpetual horror. I hesi tated to ride, or to walk, or to indulge in any exercise that would carry me from home. In fact, I no longer dared trust myself out of tho immediate presence of those who were aware of my proneness to catalepsy

THE rilEMATUKl! BURIAL. S07

lest, falling into one of myusual fits, I should be buried before my real conditioncould beascertained. Idoubted the care, the fidelity, of my dearest friends.: I dreaded that, in some trance of more than customary duration, they might be prevailed upon to regard me as irreco verable. I even went so far as to fear that, as I occa sioned much trouble, they might be glad to consider any very protracted attack as sufficient excuse for get ting rid of mo altogether. It was in vain they endea voured to reassure me by the most solemn promises. I exacted tho most sacred oaths, that under no circum stances they would bury me until decomposition had so materially advanced as to render farther preservation impossible. And, even then, my mortal terrors would listen to no reason would accept no consolation. I entered into a scries of elaborate precautions. Among other things, I had the family vault so remodelled as to admit ofbeing readily opened fromwithin. The slight est pressure upon a long lever that extended far mto the tomb would cause tho iron portals to fly back. There were arrangements also for the free admission of air and light, and convenient receptacles for food and water, within immediate reach of the coffin intended for my reception. This coffin was warmly and softly padded, and was provided with a lid, fashioned upon the principle of the vault-door, with the addition of springs so contrived that the feeblest movement of the body would be sufficient to set it at liberty. Besides all this, there was suspended from the roof ofthe tomb, a large bell, the rope of which, it was designed, should extend through a hole in the coffin, and so be fastened to one of the hands of the corpse. But, alas ! what avails the vigilance against the destiny of man? Not even thesewell-contrived securities sufficed to save from the uttermost agonies ofliving inhumation, a wretch to these agonies foredoomed !

There arrived an epoch as often before there had arrived in which I found myself emerging from tota'

MS THE PREMATURE BURIAL.

unconsciousness into the first feeble and indefinite sense of existenee. Slowly with a tortoise gradation ap proached the faint gray dawn of the psychal day. A torpid uneasiness. An apathetic endurance of dull pain. No care no hope no effort. Then, after long inter val, a ringing in the ears ; then, after a lapse still longer, a pricking or tingling sensation in the extremi ties; then a seemingly eternal period of pleasurable quiescence, during which the awakening feelings are struggling into thought; then a brief re-sinking into nonentity; then a sudden recovery. At length the slight quivering of an eye-lid, and immediately there upon, an electric shock of a terror, deadly and indefi nite, which sondsthe blood in torrents from tho temples to the heart. Andnowthe first positive effort to thmk. And now the first endeavour to remember. And now a partial and evanescent success. Andnowthememory has so far regained its dominion,that, in some measure, I am cognizant of my state. I feel that I am not awaking from ordinary sleep. I recollect that I have been subject to catalepsy. And now, at last, as if by the rush of an ocean, my shuddering spirit is over whelmed by the one grim danger by the one spectral and ever-prevalent idea.

For some minutes after this fancy possessed me, I remained without motion. And why? I could not summon courage to move. I dared not make the effort which was to satisfy me ofmy fate and yet there was something at my heart which whispered me it was sure. Despair such as no other species of wretched ness ever calls intobeing despairaloudurgedmc, after long irresolution, to uplift the heavy lids ofmyeyes. I uplifted them. It was dark all dark. I knew that the fit was over. I knew that the crisis ofmy disorder had long passed. I knew that I had now fully reco vered. the use of my visual faculties and yet it was dark all dark the intense andutter raylessness ofthe Night that endurcth for evermore

TIIE PREMATURE BURIAL. 80S

I endeavoured to shriek; and my lips and my parched tongue moved convulsively together in the attempt but no voice issued from the cavernous lungs, which,oppressed as ifby the weight ofsome incumbent mountain, gasped and palpitated, with the heart, at every elaborate and struggling inspiration.

The movement of the jaws, m this effort to cry aloud, showed me that they were bound up, as is usuai with the dead. I felt, too, that I lay upon some hard substance ; and by something similar my sides were, also, closely compressed. So fur, I had not ventured to stir any ofmy limbs ; but now I violently threw up my arms, which had been lying at length, with the wrists crossed. They struck a solid wooden substance, which extended above my person at an elevation of not more than six inches from my face. I could no longer doubt that I reposed within a coffin at last.

Andnow, amid allmyinfinite miseries,came sweetly the cherub Hope for I thought of my precautions. I writhed, andmade spasmodic exertions toforce openthe lid: it would not move. I felt my wrists for the bellrope : it was not to be found. And now the comforter fled for ever, and a still sterner despair reigned trium phant: for I could not help perceiving the absence of the paddings which I had so carefully prepared ; and then, too, there came suddenlyto my nostrils the strong peculiar odour of moist earth. The conclusion was irresistible. I was not within the vault. I had fallen into a trance while absent from home while among strangers when, or how, I could not remember and it was they who had buried me as a dog nailed up in some common coffin and thrust, deep, deep, and for ever, into some ordinary and nameless grave.

As this awful conviction forced itself thus into the innermost chambers of my soul, I once again struggled to cry aloud ; and in this second endeavour I succeeded. A long, wild, and continuous shrick, or yell, of agony, resounded through the realms ofthe subterrene night.

PREMATURE BURIAL.

" Ilillo! hillo, there!" said a gnifFvoice, in reply.

" What the devil's the matter nowr" saida second.

- Get out o' that!" said a third.

"What do you mean hyyowling in that ere kind of style, like a cattymount?" said a fourth; and hereupon I was seized and shaken without ceremony, for several minutes, by a junto of very rough-looking individuals. They did not arouse me from my slumber for I was wide awake when I screamed but they restored ine to the full possession of my memory.

. This adventure occurrednear Richmond,inVirginia. Accompanied bya friend, I had proceeded, upon a gun ning expedition, some miles down the banks of James River. Night approached, and wo were overtaken by a stonn. The cabin ofa small sloop lying at anchor in the stream, and laden with garden mould, afforded us the only available shelter. We made the best ofit, and passed the night on board. I slept in one of the only two berths in the vessel; and the berths of a sloop of sixty or seventy tons need scarcely be described. That which I occupied had no bedding of any kind. Its ex treme width was eighteen inches. The distance of its bottom from the deck overhead, was preciselythe same. I found it a matter of exceeding difficulty to squeeze myself in. Nevertheless, I slept soundly ; and the whole ofmy vision for it was no dream, and no night mare arose naturally from tho circumstances of my position from my ordinary bias of thought and from the difficulty, to which I have alluded, of collecting my senses, and especially of regaining my memory, for a long time after awnking from slumber. Tho men who shook me were the crew ofthe sloop,andsomelabourers engaged to unload it. From the load itself came the earthy smell. The bandage about the jaws was a silk handkerchief, in which I had bound up my head, in default of my customary nightcap.

The tortures endured, however, were indubitably quite equal, for the time, to those of actual sepulture.

THE TKEMATURE BUKIAL. 811

They were fearfully they were inconceivably hideous; but out of evil proceeded good; for their very excess wrought in my spirit an inevitable revulsion. My soul acquired tone acquired temper. I went abroad. I took vigorous exercise. I breathed the free air of hea ven. I thought upon other subjects than death. I discarded my medical books. "Buchan" I burned. I read no " Night Thoughts" no fustian about church yards no bugaboo tales such as this. In short, I became a new man, and lived a man's hfe. From that memorable night, I dismissed for ever my charnel ap prehensions, and with them vanished the cataleptic disorder, ofwhich, perhaps, they had been less the con sequence than the cause.

There arc moments when, even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblance ofa hell ; but the imagination of man is no Carathis, to explore with impunity its every cavern. Alas ! the grim legion of sepulchral terrors cannot bo regarded as altogether fanciful; but, like the demons in whose company Afrasiab made his voyage down the Oxus, they must sleep, or they will devour us -they must be suffered to slumber, or we perish.

fam Wwte tnitjr a fflwnmty

HE symposium of the preceding evening had been a little too much for my nerves. I had a wretched headach, and was des perately drowsy. Instead of going out, therefore, to spend the evening, as I had proposed, it occurred to me that I could not do a wiser thing than just eat a mouthful of supper and go immediately to bed.

Having concluded a frugal meal, and donned my nightcap, with the serene hope of enjoying it till noon the next day, I placed my head upon the pillow, and, through the aid of a capital conscience, fell into a pro found slumber forthwith.

But when were the hopes ofhumanity fulfilled ? I could not have completed my third snore when there came a furious ringing at the street-door bell, and then an impatient thumpingatthe knocker, whichawakened me at once. In a minute afterwards, and while I was rubbing my eyes, my wife thrust in my face a note, from my old friend, Dr. Ponnonner. It ran thus :

" Come to me, by all means," my dear good friend, as soon as you receive this. Come and help us to re joice. At last, by long persevering diplomacy, I have gained the assent ofthe Directors of the City Museum, to my examination of the mummy you know the one I mean. I have permission to unswathe it and open it, if desirable. A few friends only will be present you, ofcourse. The mummy is now at my house, and we shall begin to unroll it at eleven to-night." ^

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY. 213

By the time I had reached the " Ponnonner," it struckme that I was as wide awake as amanneed be. I leaped out ofbed in an eestacy, overthrowing all in my way ; dressed myselfwith a rapidity truly marvellous ; and set off, at the top ofmy speed, for the doctor's.

There I found a very eager company assembled. They had been awaiting me with much impatience ; the mummy was extended upon the dining-table ; and the moment Ientered, its examination was commenced.

It was one of a pair brought, several years pre viously, by Captain Arthur Sabretash, a cousin of Ponnonner's, from a tomb near Eleithias, in the Lybian_ mountains, a considerable distance above Thebes onthe Nile. The grottoes at this point, although less magni ficentthanthe Theban sepulchres,are ofhigherinterest, on account of affording more numerous illustrations of the private life of the Egyptians. The chamber from which our specimen was taken, was said to be very rich -insuch illustrations the wallsbeing completelycovered f with fresco paintings and bas-reliefs, while statues, *** vases, and mosaic work of rich patterns, indicated the vast wealth ofthe deceased. "-.- i

The treasure had been deposited in the Museum precisely in the same condition inwhich Captain Sabre tash hud found it ; that is to say, tho coffin had not been disturbed. For eight .years it had thus stood, subject only externally to public inspection. We;had now, therefore, the complete mummy at our disposal ; and to those who are aware how very rarelythe unransacked antique reaches our shores, it will be evident at once, that we had great reason to congratulate our selves upon our good fortune.

Approaching the table, I saw on it a large box or case, nearly seven feet long, and perhaps three feet wide, by two feet and a halfdeep. Itwas oblong not coffin shaped. The material was at first supposed to be the wood of the sycamore {platinus), but, upon cutting into it, we found it to be pasteboard, or, more

314 SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

properly,papier machi, composed of papyrusj It was thickly ornamentedwith paintings, representmg funeral scenes, and other mournful subjects instersperscd among which, in everyvariety ofposition, were certain series of hieroglyphical characters, intended, no doubt, for the name of the departed. By good luck, Mr. Qliddon formed one of our party ; and he had no diffi culty in translating the letters, which were simply phonetic, and represented the word, Allamistaheo^y

We had some difficulty in getting this case open without injury; but having at length accomplished the task, wo came to a second, coffin-shaped, and very con siderably less in si/.o than tho oxtorior one, but rosombling it precisely in every other respect. The in terval between the two was filled with resin, which had, in some degree, defaced tho colours ofthe interior box.

Upon opening this latter (whichwedid quiteeasily), we arrived at a third case, also coffin-shaped, and vary- . ing from the second one in no particular, except in that of its material, which was cedar, and still emitted the peculiar and highly aromatic odour ofthat wood. Be tween the secondand third case therewas no interval tho one fitting accurately within the other.

' Removing the third case, we discovered and took out the body itself. We had expected to find it, as usual, enveloped in frequent rolls or bandages oflinen ; but, in place of these, we found a sort of sheath, made of papyrus, and coated with a layer of plaster, thickly gilt and painted. The paintings represented subjects connected with the various supposed duties oftho soul, and itspresentationtodifferentdivinities,withnumerous identical human figures, intended, very probably, as portraits :of the persons embalmed. Extending, from head to foot, was a columnar, or perpendicular in scription, in phonetic hieroglyphies, giving again his name and titles, and the names and titles of his relations. -' I / J-1 "' ' . > '. ' / ir

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY. 215

Arovuid the neck thus unsheathed, was a collar of cylindricalglass beads,diverse in colour, and so arrangd as to form images ofdeities, ofthe scarabasus, &c.,with the winged globe. Around the small of the waist was a similar collar or belt.

Stripping off the papyrus, we found the flesh in excellent preservation,with no perceptible odour. The colour was reddish. Tho skin was hard, smooth, and glossy. The teeth and hair were in good condition. The eyes (it seemed) had been removed, and glass ones substituted, which were very beautiful and wonderfully life-like, with the exception of somewhat too-deter mined a stare. The finger and the nailswere brilliantly gilded.

Mr. Gliddon was ofopinion, from the redness oftho ._epidermis, that the cmbalment had been effected alto gether byiisphaltum; but, on scraping the surface with a steel instrument, and throwing into the fire some of the powder thus obtained, the flavour ofcamphor and other sweet-scented gums became apparent.

We searched the corpse very carefully for the usual openings through which the entrails arc extracted, but, to our surprise, we could discover none. No member of the party was at that period aware that entire or unopened mummies are not unfrequently mot. The brain it was customary to withdraw through the nose; tho intestines through an incision in the side ; the body was then shavcd, washed, and salted; then laid asido for several weeks, when the operation of embalming, properly so called, began.

As no trace ofan opening could be found, Dr. Ponnonner was preparing his instruments for dissection, when I observed that it was then past two o'clock. Hereupon, it was agreed' to postpone the internal exa mination until the next eTening; and we were about to separate for the present, when some one suggested an experiment or two with the voltaic pile.

The application of electricity to a mummy, three or

816

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

four thousand years old at the least, was an idea, if not very sage, still sufficiently original, and we all caught it at once. About one-tenth in earnest and nine-tenths in jest,we arranged a battery in the doctor's study, and conveyed thither the Egyptian.

It was only after much trouble that we succeeded in laying bare some portions of the temporal muscle, which appeared of less stony rigidity than other parts of the frame, but which, as we had anticipated, of course, gave no indication of galvanic susceptibility when brought in contact with the wire. This, the first trial, indeed, seemed decisive, and, with a hearty laugh at our own absurdity, wo were bidding each other good night, when my eyes, happening to fall upon those of

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY. 217

the mummy,were there immediately rivetted in amaze ment. My brief glance, in fact, had sufficed to assure me that the orbs which we had all supposed to be glass, and which were originallynoticeable for a certain wild stare, were now so far covered by the lids, that only a small portion of the tunica albuginea remained visible.

With a shout, I called attention to the fact, and it became immediately obvious to all.

I cannot say that I was alarmed at the phenomenon, because " alarmed" is, in mycase, notexactlythe word. It is possible, however, that I might have been a little nervous. As for the rest of the company, they really made no attempt at concealing the downright fright which possessed them. Dr. Ponnonner was a man to be pitied. Mr. Gliddon, by some peculiar process, rendered himself invisible. Mr. Silk Buckingham, I fancy, will scarcely be so bold as to deny that he made his way, upon all fours, under the table.

After the first shock of astonishment, however, we resolved, as a matter ofcourse, upon farther experiment forthwith. Our operations were now directed against the great toe of the right foot. We made an incision over the outside of the exterior os sesamoideum'pollicis pedis, and thus got at the root of the abductor muscle. He-adjusting the battery, we now applied the fluid to the bisected nerves when, with a movement of ex ceeding life-likeness, the mummy first drew up its= right knee so as to bring it nearly in contact with the abdomen, and then straightening the limb with incon ceivable force, bestowed akick upon Doctor Ponnonner, which had the effect of discharging that gentleman, like an arrow from a catapult, through a window into the street below.

We rushed out, en masse, to bring in the mangled remains of the victim, but had the happiness to meet him upon the staircase, coming up in an unaccountable hurry, brimful ofthe most ardent philosophy, and more

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

than ever Impressed with the necessity of prosecuting our experiments with rigour and with zeal.

It was by his advice, accordingly, that wo made, upon the spot, a profound incision into the tip of tho subject's1 nose, while the dootor himself, laying violent hands upon it, pulled it into vehement contact with the wire.

Morally and physically figuratively and literally was the effect electric. In the first place, the corpse opened its eyes, and winked very rapidly for several minutes, as does Mr. Barnes in the pantomime ; in the second place, it sneezed ; in the third, it sat upon end; in the fourth, it shook its fist in Doctor Ponnonnor's face ; in the fifth, turning to Messieurs Gliddon and Buckingham, it addressed them in very capital Egyp tian, thus : :

" I must say, gentlemen, that I am as much sur prised as I am mortified, at your behaviour. Of Doc tor Ponnonner nothing better was to be expected. Ho is a poor, little, fat fool, who knows no better. I pity and forgive him. But you, Mr. Gliddon and you, Silk who have travelled and resided in Egypt until one might imagino you to tho manor born you, I say, who have been so much among us that you speak Egyptian fully as well,- I think, as you write your mother-tongue you, whom I have always been led to regard as thej firm friend of the mummies I really did anticipate'i more gentlemanly conduct from you. What am I to think of your standing qnietly by and seeing mo thus unhandsomely used? What am I to suppose by your permitting Tom, Dick, and Harry to strip me of my coffins, and my clothes, in this wretch edly coldclimate? In whatlight (to come to thepoint) am I to regard your aiding and abetting that miserable little villain, Doctor Ponnonner, in pulling me by the nose?"

. It will be taken for granted, no doubt. that upon hearing this speech under the circumstances, we all

. SOME "WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

219

either made for the door,'or fell into violent hysteries, or went off in a general swoon.' One of these threethings was, I say, to be expected. Indeed'each and all i .of these lines of conduct might have been very plau sibly pursued. And, upon my word, I am at a loss to know how or why it was that we pursued neither the one or the other. But, perhaps, the true reason is to besought in the Bpirit of the age, which proceeds by the rule of 'contraries altogether, and is now usually admitted as the solution of everything in the way of paradox and impossibility. Or, perhaps, after all,' it was only the mummy's exceedingly natural and matter'of-course air that divested his words of the terrible. However this may be, the facts are clear, and no member of our party betrayed any very particular trepidation, or seemed to consider that anything had gone very especially wrong.

For my part I was convinced it was nil right, and merelystepped aside,outofthe range ofthe Egyptian'sfist. Doctor Ponnonner thrust his hands into his breeches' pockets, looked hard at the mummy, and grew excessively red in the face. Mr. Qliddon stroked his whiskers, and drew up the collar of his shirt. Mr.'/*. Buckingham hung down his head, and put his right thumb into the left corner ofhis mouth.

The Egyptian regarded him with a severe counte nancefor someminutes,andatlength, withasneer,said:

" Why don't you speak, Mr. Buckingham ?V Did you hear what I asked you, or not? Do take your thumb out ofyour mouth ! "

Mr. Buckingham, hereupon, gave a slight start, took hisright thumb outofthe leftcorner ofhis mouth, and, by way ofindemnification, inserted his left thumb in the right corner of the aperture above-mentioned.

Not being able to get an answer from Mr. B., the figure turned peevishly to Mr. Gliddon, and, in a peremptory tone, demanded, in general terms, what We all meant.

22-j

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

Mr. Glkldon replied nt great length, in phonetics ; and but for the deficiency of American printing-offices in hieroglyphical type, it would afford me much pica- . sure to record here, in the original, the whole of his very excellent speech.

I may as well take this occasion to remark, that all the subsequent conversation in which the mummy took a part, was carried on in primitive Egyptian, through the medium (so far as concerned myself and other untravelled members of the company) through the medium, I say, of Messieurs Gliddon and Buckingham, as interpreters. These gentlemen spoke the mothertongue of the mummy with inimitable fluency and grace ; but I could not help observing that (owing, no doubt, to the introduction of images entirely modern, and, of course, entirely novel to the stranger) the two travellers were reduced, occasionally, to the employ ment of sensible forms for the purpose of conveying a particular meaning. Mr. Gliddon, at one period, for example, could not make the Egyptian comprehend the term " politics," until he sketched upon the wall, witha bit of charcoal, a little carbuncle-nosed gentleman, out at elbows, standing upon a stump, with his left leg drawn back, his right arm thrown forward, with his fist shut, the eyes rolled up toward heaven, and the mouth open at an angle ofninety degrees. Just iiithe siimc way, Mr. Buckingham failed to convey the abso^ lutely modern idea, "whig," until (at Doctor Ponnon- I ner's suggestion) he grew very pale in the face, and consented tp take off his own. !

It will be readily understood. thatMr. Gliddon's dis- J course turned chiefly upon the vast benefits accruing ta^ science from the unrolling and disembowelling ofnrnmmies ; apologizing, upon this score, for any disturbance that might have been occasioned him, in particular, the individual mummy called Allamistakeo, and concluding with a mere hint, (for it could scarcely be considered more,) that, as these little matters were now explained,

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

881

it might be as well to proceed with the investigation intended. Here Doctor Ponnonner made ready his in struments.

In regard to the latter suggestion of the orator, it appears that Allamistakeo had certain scruples of con science, the nature ofwhich I did not distinctly learn; but he expressed himself satisfied with the apologies tendered, and, getting down from the table, shookhands with the company all round.

When this ceremonywas at an end, we immediately busied ourselves in repairing the damages which our subject had sustained from the scalpel. We sewed up the wound in his temple, bandaged his foot, and applied a square inch ofblack plaster to the tip of his nose.

It was now observed that the count, (this was the title, it seems, of Allamistakeo,) had a slight fit of shivering no doubt from the cold. The doctor imme diately repaired to his wardrobe,. and soon returned with a black dress-coat, made in Jennings' bestmanner, a pair of sky-blue plaid pantaloons with straps, a pink gingham chemise,aflapped vest ofbrocade, awhite sack overcoat, a Walking cane with a hook, a hat with no brim, patent leather boots, straw-coloured kid gloves, an eye-glass, a pair ofwhiskers, and a waterfall cravat. Owing to the disparity of size between the count and; the doctor, (the proportion being as two to one,) there\ was some little difficulty in adjusting these habiliments upon the person of the Egyptian ; but when all was arranged, he might have been said to be dressed. Mr. Gliddon, therefore, gave him his arm, and led him to a comfortable chair by the fire, while the doctor rang the bell upon the spot, and ordered a supply of cigars andwine.

The conversation soon grew animated. Much curi ositywas, ofcourse,expressedin regardtothe somewhat remarkable fact ofAllamistakeo's still remaining alive.

" I should have thought," observed Mr. Bucking ham, "that it is high time you were dead." '

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

" Why," replied- the count, very much astonished, "I am.little more than seven hundred years old! My father lived a thousand, and was by no means in his dcftage whenhe died."

Here ensued a brisk series ofquestions and compu tations, by means of which it became evident that the antiquity of the mummy had been grossly misjudged. It had been five thousand and fifty years, and some months, since he had been consigned to the catacombs at Eleithias.

"But myremark," resumed Mr. Buckingham, "had no rofcrenco to your ago at the period of interment; (I am willing to grant, in fact, that you are still a young man,) and my allusion was to the immensity of timo, during which, by your own showing, you must have been done up in asphaltum."

" In what!" said the count.

" In asphaltum," persisted Mr. B. "Ah, yes ; I have some faint notion of what you mean : it might be made to answer, no doubt ; but in my time we employed scarcely anything else than the bi-chloride ofmercury."

" But what we we especially at a loss to under stand," said Doctor Ponnonner, " is,: how it happens that, having been dead and buried in Egypt, five thou sand years ago, youarehere;to-dayall alive, andlooking so delightfully well."

" Had I been, as you say, dead," replied the count, " it is more than probable that dead I should still be; for I perceive you are yet in the infancy of galvan ism, and connot accomplish with it. what was a com mon thing among us in the old days. But the fact is, I fell into catalepsy, and it was considered by my best friends that I'was either dead, or should be ; they ac cordingly embalmed me at once. I presume you are aware ofthe chiefprinciple ofthe embalming process?"

"Why, not altogether."

"Ah, I perceiye ; a deplorable condition of igno

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

ranee ! Well, I cannot enter into detailsjust now; but it is necessary to explain that to embalm, (properlyspeaking,) in Egypt, was to arrest indefinitely all the animal functions subjected to the process. I use the word 'animal' in its widest sense, as including the phy sical not more than the moral and vital being. I repeat that the leading principle of embalment consisted, with us, in tho immediately arresting, and holding in per petual abeyance, all the animal functions subjected to the process. To be brief, in whatever condition the individual was, at the period ofembalment, in that con dition he remained. Now, as it is my good fortune to be of the blood ofthe scarabams, I was embabnod alive, as you see me at present."

" The blood of the scarabreus," exclaimed Doctor Ponnonner.

" Yes. The scarabicus was the insignium, or the ' arms,' of a very distinguished and very rare patrician family. To bo ' of the blood of the scarabteus,' is merely to be one ofthat family ofwhich the scareuebus is the insignium. I speak figuratively."

" But what has this to do with your being alive ?"

"Why, it is the general custom inEgypt,to deprive a corpse, before embalment, of its bowels and brains : the race of senrabooi' alone did not coincide with the custom. Had I not been a scarabrcus, therefore, I should havo been without bowels and brains ; and without cither it is inconvenient to live."

"I perceive that," said Mr. Buckingham; "andJ presume that all the entire mummies that come to hand are ofthe race ofscaraban."

" Beyond doubt."

" I thought," said Mr. Gliddon, very meekly, "that the scarabteus was one ofthe Egyptian gods."

" One of the Egyptian what!" exclaimed the mum my, starting to its feet.

" Gods !" repeated the traveller.

" Mr Gliddon, I really am astonished to hear you

2J4

SOME WOUUS WITH A MUMMY.

talk in this style," said the count, resuming his chair. "No nation upon the face ofthe earth has everacknow ledged more than one god. The scarabseus, the ibis, ho., were with us, (as similar creatures have been with others) the symbols, or media, throughwhich we offered worship to the Creator, too august to be more directly approached."

There was here a pause. At length the colloquy was renewed bjrDr. Ponnoner.

" It is not mlprpbablo, then, from what you have explained," said he, " that among the catacombs near the Nile, there may exist other mummies of the scarabtsus tribe, in a condition ofvitality."

"There can bo no question of it," ropliod tlio count; " all the scarabrei embalmed accidentally while alive, are alive. Even some of thosepurposely so em balmed, may have been overlooked by their executors, and still remain in the tombs."

" Will you be kind enough to explain," I said, "what you mean by 'purposely so embalmed ?' "

"With great pleasure," answered the mummy,after surveying mo leisurely through his eye-glass for it was the firsttime I hadventuredto address him adirectquestion. -

" With great pleasure," he said. " The usual du ration of man's life, in my time, was about eight hun dred years. Few men died, unless by most extraor dinary accident, before the age of six hundred; few lived longer than a decade ofcenturies ; but eight were considered the natural term. After the discovery of the embalming principle, as I have already described it to you, it occurred to our philosophers that a laudable curiosity-might be gratified, and, at the same time, the interests of science much advanced, by living this natural term in instalments. In the case of history, indeed, experience demonstrated thatsomething of this kind was indispensable. An historian, for example, having attained the age of five_hundred, would write a

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

280/ book with great labour and then get himself carefully embalmed ; leaving instruction to his executors pro tern, that they should causehimtobe revivifiedafter the lapse ofa certain period sayfive or six hundred years, Resuming existence at the expiration of this time, he would invariably find his great work converted into a species of hap-hazard note-book that is to say, into a kind ofliteraryarenafor the conflicting guesses,riddles, and personal squabbles of whole herds of exasperated commentators. These guesses, Sec,which passed under the name of annotations or emendations, were found so completely to have enveloped, distorted, and over whelmed the text, that the author had to go about with a lantern to discover his own book. When discovered, it was never worth the trouble of the search. After re-writing it throughout, itwas regardedas the bounden duty of the historian to set himself to work, imme diately, iii correcting from his own private knowledge and experience, the traditions ofthedayconcerningthe epoch at which he had originally-lived. Now this pro cess of re-scriptiou and personal rectification, pursued by various intervals by various individual sages, from/ . time to time, had the effect of preventing our history from degenerating into absolute fable."

" I begJyour pardon," said Doctor Ponnonncratthis point, luyuig his hand gently upon the arm of the Egyptian " I beg your pardon,' sir; but may I pre sume to interrupt you for ono moment?"

"By all means, sir," replied the count, drawing\ip.

"I merely wished to ask you a question," said the doctor. "You mentioned the historian's personal cor rection of traditions respecting his own epoch. Pray, sir, upon an average, what proportion ofthese Kabbala were usually found to be right?"

"The Kabbala, as you j)roperly term them, sir,were generally discovered to be precisely on a par with the facts recorded in the un-re-written historiesthemselves; that is to say, not one individual iota ofeither, was 8. i

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

ever known, under any circumstances, to be not totally and radically wrong."

"But since it is quite clear," resumed the doctor, " that at least five thousand years have elapsed since your entombment, I take it for granted that your his tories at that period, if not your traditions, were suffi ciently explicit on that one topic of universal interest, the Creation, which took place, as I presume you are aware, only about ten centuries before."

" Sir! " said the Count Allamistakeo.

The doctor repeated his remarks ; but it was only after much additional explanation, that tho foreigner could be made to comprehend them. The latter at length said, hesitatingly :

" The ideas you havesuggestedare to me, I confess, utterly novel. During my time I never knew any one to entertain so singular a fancy as that the universe (or this world, ifyouwill have it so,) ever had a beginning at all. I remember once, and once only, hearingsome thing remotely hinted, by a man of many speculations, concerning the origin of the human race; and by this individual, the very word Adam, (or Red Earth,)which you make use of, was employed. He employed it, how ever, in a generical sense, with reference to the spon taneous germinationfrom ranksoil (justas a thousand ofthe lower genera of creatures are germinated) the spontaneous germination, I say, of five vast hordes of men, simultaneously upspringing in five distinct and nearly equal divisions ofthe globe."

Here, in general, thecompanyshruggedtheir shoul ders, and one or two of us touched our foreheads with a very significant air. Mr. Silk Buckingham, first glancing slightly at the occiput, and then at the siniciput ofAllamistakeo, spoke as follows:

" The long duration ofhuman life in your time, to gether with the occasional practice ofpassing it, as you have explained, in instalments, must have had, indeed, a strong tendency to the general development and con

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY. 437 glomeration of knowledge. I presume, therefore, that we are to attribute the marked inferiority of the old Egyptians in all particulars of science, when compared with the moderns, and more especially, with the Yan kees, altogether to the superior solidity ofthe Egyptian skull."

" I confess again," replied the count, with much suavity, " that I am somewhat at a loss to comprehend you ; pray, to what particulars of science do you allude?'.'

Here our whole party, joining voices, detailed, at great length, the assumptions of phrenology and the marvels ofanimal magnetism.

Having heard us to an end, the count proceeded to relate a few anecdotes, which rendered it evident that prototypes of Gall and Spurzhcim had flourished and faded in Egypt so long ago as to have been nearly for gotten, and that the manoeuvres of Mesmer were really very contemptible tricks when put in collationwith the positive miracles of the Theban savans, who created lice and a great many other similar things. ' v

I here asked the count if his people were able to ) calculate eclipses. He smiled rather contemptuously,/ and said they were. Jr

This put me a little out; but I began to make dtner inquiries in regard to his astronomicalknowledge,when a member of the company,who haanever as yetopened his mouth, whispered in my ear, that for information on this head, I had better consult Ptolemy, (whoever Ptolemy is,) as well as one Plutarch defacie luna.

I then questioned the mummyaboutburning-glasses and lenses, and, in general, about the manufacture of glass ; but I had not mode an end of my queries before the silent member ngnin touched me quietly on the elbow, and begged me, for God's sake, to take a peep at Diodorus Siculus. As for the count, ho merely asked me, in the way ofreply, if we moderns possessed any such microscopes as would enable us to cut cameos i 2

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

in the stylo of the Egyptians. While I was thinking how I should answer this question, little Doctor Pon" nonncr committed himselfin a very extraordinary way.

" Look at our architecture ! " he exclaimed, greatly to the indignation of both the travellers, who pinched him black and blue to no purpose.

" Look," he cried with enthusiasm, " at the Bowl ing-green Fountain in New York ! or ifthis be too vast a contemplation, regard for a moment the Capitol at Washington, D.C. !" and the good little medical man went on to detail, very minutely, theproportions of the fabric to whichhe referred. He explainedthatthe por tico alone wasadorned withno less than four-and-twenty columns, five feet in diameter, and ton feet apart.

The count said that he regretted not being able to remember, just at that moment, the precise dimen sions ofany one of the principalbuildings of the city of Aznac, whose foundations were laid in the night of Time, but the ruins of which were still standing, at the epoch ofhis entombment, in a vast plain ofsand to the westward ofThebes. He recollected,however, (talking ofporticoes,) that one affixed to an inferior palace in a kind of suburb called Carnac, consisted of a hundred and forty-four columns, thirty-seven feet each in cir cumference, and twenty-five feet apart. The ap proach of this portico, from the Nile, was through an avenue two miles long, composed of sphinxes, sta tues, and obelisks, twenty, sixty, and a hundred feet in height. The palace itself (as well as he could remem ber) was, in ono direction, two miles long, and might have been altogether, about seven in circuit. Its walls were richly painted all over, within and without, with hieroglyphics. He would not pretend to assert that even fifty or sixty of the doctor's capitals might have been built within these walls, but he was by no xncans sure that two or three hundred ofthem might not have been squeezed in with somo trouble. That palace at Carnac wasaninsignificant little building, after all. He

SOME WORDS WITn A MUMMY.

2_>9 (the count) however, could not conscientiously refuse to admit the ingenuity, magnificence, and superiority ofthe Fountain at the Bowling-green as described by the doctor. Nothing like it, he was forced to allow, had ever been seen in Egypt or elsewhere.

I-here asked the count what he had to say to our railroads.

" Nothing," he replied, " in particular." They were rather slight, rather ill-conceived, and clumsily put together. They could not be compared, of course, with the vast, level, direct, iron-grooved causeways, upon which the Egyptians conveyed entire temples and solid obelisks ofa hundred and fifty feet in altitude. .

I spoke ofour gigantic mechanical forces. I

He agreed thatwe knew something in thatway, but inquired how I should have gone to work in getting up the imposts on the lintels of even the little palace at Canine.

This question I concluded not to hear, and de manded if he had any idea of Artesian wells ; but he simply raised his eyebrows ; while Mr. Gliddonwinked at me very hard and said, in a low tone, that one had been recently discovered by the engineers employed to boro for water in the great Oasis.

I then mentioned our steel ; but the foreigner ele vated his nose, and asked me if our steel could have executed the sharp carved work seen on the obelisks, and which was wrought altogether by edge-tools of copper.

This disconcerted us so greatly, that we thought it advisable to vary the attack to Metaphysics. We sent for a copy of a book called the " Dial," and read out of it a chapter or two about something which is not very clear, but which the llostonians call the Great Move- £ ment, or Progress.

The count merely said that great movements werei" awfully common things in his day, and as forprogress, it was at onetime quite anuisance, butitneverprogressed. > /

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

Wo then spoke of the great beauty and importance of Democracy, and were at much trouble in impressing the count with a due sense of the advantages we en joyed in living where there was suffrage ad libitum, and no king.

He listened with marked interest,andinfactseemed not a little amused. When we had done, he said that, a great while ago, there had occurred something of a very similar sort. Thirteen Egyptian provinces deter mined all at once to be free, and so set a magnificent example to the rest of mankind. Theyassembled their wisemen, and concocted the mostingenious constitution it is possible to conceive. For a while they managed remarkably well ; only their habit of bragging was prodigious. The thing ended, however, in the consoli dation of the thirteen states, with some fifteen or twenty others, in the most odious and insupportable despotism that ever was heard of upon the face of the earth.

I asked what was the name of the usurping tyrant. As well as the count could recolleot, it was Mob. Not knowing what to sayto this, I raised my voice, and deplored the Egyptian ignorance of steam. The count looked at me with much astonishment, but made no answer. The silent gentleman, however, gave me a violent-budge in the ribs with his elbows told me I had sufficiently exposed myself for once and demanded if I was reallysuch afool as not to know that the modern steam-engine is derived from the invention of Hero, through Solomon de Caus.

- We were now in imminent danger of being dis comfited; but, as good luck would have it, Doctor Ponnonner, having rallied, returned to our rescue, and inquired ifthepeople of Egypt would seriously pretend to rival the moderns in the all important particular of dress. . -

The count, at this, glanced downwards to the straps of his pantaloons, and then taking hold of the end of

SOME WORDS WITH A MUMMY.

231

one of his coat-tails, held it up close to his eyes for some minutes. Letting it fall, at last, his mouth extended itself very gradually from ear to ear; but I do not remember that he said anything in the way of reply.

Hereupon we recovered our spirits, and the doctor, approaching the mummy with great dignity, desired it to say candidly, upon its honour as a gentleman, ifthe Egyptians hadcomprehended, atany period, the manu facture of either Fonnonner's lozenges, or Brandreth's pills.

We looked withprofoundanxiety, for an answer; but in vain. It was not forthcoming. The Egyptian blushed and hung downhis head. Never was triumph more consummate ;.never was defeat bomo with so ill a grace. Indeed, I could not endure the spectacle of the poor mummy's mortification. I reached my hat, bowed to him stiffly, and took leave.

Upon getting home I found it past four o'clock, and wentimmediately to-bed. It is now ten; a. m. I have been up since seven, penning these memoranda for the benefit of my family, and of mankind. The former I shall behold nomore: Mywife is a shrew. The truth is, I am heartily sick ofthis life and of the nineteenth century in general. I am convinced that everything is going wrong. As soon, therefore, as I shave and swallow a cup of cofFce, I shalljust step over to Ponnonncr's and get embalmed for a couple of hundred years.

POEMS.

\}t Ulntmt.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore

THE RAVEN.

S33 -

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door ; " Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my cham ber door

Only this and nothing more."

Ah! distinctlyI remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying emberwrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow ; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore

For the rare and radiant maidenwhom the angels name Lenore Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; So that now, to still tho heating of my heart, I stood repeating " 'Tis somo visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door :

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, " Sir," said I, " or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 1*

8tf

THE RAVEN.

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my cham ber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you " here I opened wide the door ; Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before ; But tho silenco was unbroken, and tho stillness gave no token, And tho only word thoro spoken was tho whispered word, "Lenorc!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, " Lenore !"

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before. " Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my win dow lattice ; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery ex plore Let,my heart be still a moment, and this mystery ex plore ;

'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Baven of the saintly days of yore. ... Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; .

THE HAVEN. 235

But,-with mien oflord or lady,perched above my cham ber door

Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door

Perched and sat and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smil ing,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven wandering from the nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plu tonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Thoughitsanswer little meaning little relevancybore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird abovo his cham ber door Bird or beast upon tho sculptured bust abovehis cham ber door,

"With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust spoke only That one word, as ifhis soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered Till I scarcelymore than muttered, " Otherfriendshave flown"before 1*2

836 THE BATES.

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Never more."

Startled at the stillnessbroken byreply so aptly spoken, " Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast andfollowed faster,till his songs onebur den bore Tillthe dirges ofInshope that melancholyburden bore. Of ' Never never more.' "

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smil ing.

Straight I wheeled a cushionedseat in frontofbird and bust and door; Then,uponthe velvetsinking, Ibetookmyself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking " Never more."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable express ing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bo som's coro ; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease re clining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er

She shall press, ah, never more !

THE RAVEN. 237

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from nn unseen censer Swung by seraphim, whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch!" I cried, "thygod hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee Respite respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenorc ! Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenorc ! "

Quoth the Raven, " Never more ! "

" Prophet!" said I, " thing of evil ! prophet still, if bird or devil!

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land en chanted On this home by horror haunted tell me truly, I im plore Is there is there balm in Gilead ? tell me tell me, I implore!"

Quoth the Raven " Never more."

" Prophet! " said I, " thing of evil prophet still, if bird or devil !

By that heaven that bends above us by that God we both adore Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whomthe angels name Lenore," Quoth the Raven, " Never more."

LEKORE.

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! " I shrieked, upstarting " Get thee back into the tempest and the night'sPluto nian shore !

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken !

Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door !

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from offmy door ! "

Quoth the Raven, " Never more."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is - sitting, OnthepallidbustofPallas,just abovemychamberdoor; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-bght o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted never more?

tmm.

Ah,brokenisthe golden bowl! the spiritflown forever ! Let the bell toll ! a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy do Vere, hast thou no tear ? weep now or never more !

See! onyondrearandrigidbierlowliesthylove,Lenore! Come ! let the burial rite be read the funeral song besung ! >

An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died soyoung

Adirgeforherthedoublydeadinthatshediedsoyoung.

LKNORE. US')

"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth, and hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her that she died ! How shall the ritual, then, beread? the requiem how be sung By you by yours, the evil eye by yours, the slan derous tongue. That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"

Peccavimus! butravenot thus ! andlet a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenorehath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride For her, the fair and debonnair, that now so lowly lies, The life uponher yellowhair,butnot within her eyes The life still there upon her hair the death upon her eyes.

" Avaunt ! to-nightmy heart is light. No dirge will I upraise. But waft the angel on her flight with a poean of old days!

Letnobolltoll! lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth, Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the damned earth.

To friends above,.fromfiends below, the indignant ghost isriven:

Fromhellunto a highestate far upwithinthe heaven

From griefand groan, to a golden throne, besido tho King ofHeaven."

Cjje Sell*.

Hear the bellsSilver bells ! Whataworldofmerrimenttheir melody foretells ! TIow they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air ofnight! Whilethe starsthatoversprinklo All the heavens, seem to twinkle j With a crystalline delight; Keepmg timo, time, timo, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinabulation that so musically swells From the bells,bells,bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells From thejingling and the tink ling of the bells.

THE BELLS.

Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells!

What a world ofhappiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air ofnight How they ring out their delight! From the molten-golden notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ; How it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Ofthe rapture that impels

To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Ofthe bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells

To the rhyming and the chiming ofthe bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells !

In the startled ear ofnight How they scream out their affright 1 Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out oftune.

Tn a clamorous appealing to the mercy ofthe fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic lire Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavour Now now to sit or never, By the side ofthe pale-faced moon.

2«

THE BELLS.

Ob, the bells, bells, bells ! What a tale their terror tells OfDespair !

ITow they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour . On the bosom ofthe palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the car distinctly tells, In thejangling, And tho wrangling, How tho danger sinks and swells, Bythe sinking orthe swellingin theangerofthe bells

Ofthe bells

Ofthe bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells In the clamour and the clangour ofthe bells!

Hear the tolling ofthe bells > Iron bells ! {} . What a world of solemn thoughttheirmonodycompels ! In the silence ofthe night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats . Is a groan.. And the people ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, ..1 Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone They are* neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human

They are Ghouls : And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls

A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the pecan ofthe bells! And he dances, and ho yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort ofRunic rhyme, To the paean ofthe bells Ofthe bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort ofRunic rhyme, To the throbbing oftho bells Of the bells, bells, bells To the sobbing ofthe bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling ofthe bells . Ofthe bells, bells, bells To the tolling ofthe bells Ofthe bells, bells, bells, bells Hells, bells, bells To the moaning and the groaning ofthe bells.

The skies they were ashen and sober ; The leaves they were crisped and sere The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year ; It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir

2U " ULALOME.

It was down by the dank tarn ofAuber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland ofWeir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic, # Of cypress, I roamed with my soul Of cypress, with Pysche, my soul. These were days when my heart was volcanic As the scoriae rivers that roll As the lavas that restlessly roll Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek In the ultimatc climes ofthe pole That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek In the realms ofthe boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober, But our thoughts theywere palsied and sere Our memories were treacherous and sere For we knew not the month was October, And we marked not the night ofthe year (Ah, night of all nights in the year ! We noted not the dim lake ofAuber (Though once we hadjourneyed down here Remembered not the dank tarn ofAuber, Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland ofWeir.

And now, as the night was senescent, And star-dials pointed to morn As the star-dials hinted ofmorn

At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out ofwhich a miraculous crescent Arose with a duplicate horn Astarte's bediamonded crescent Distinctwith its duplicate horn.

And I said " She is warmer than Dian : She rolls through an ether of sighs

She revels in a region ofsighs : She has seen that the tears are not dry on These cheeks, where the worm never dies. And has come past the stars ofthe Lion To point us the path to the skies To the Lethean peace ofthe skies Comc up, in despite of the Lion, To shine on us with her bright eyes Come up through tho lair of the Lion, With love. in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger, Said " Sadly this star I mistrust Her pallor I strangely mistrust: Oh, hasten ! oh, let us not linger ! Oh, fly ! let us fly ! for we must." In terror she spoke, letting sink her Wings until they trailed in the dust In agony sobbed, letting sink her Plumes till they trailed in the dust Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

I replied " This is nothing but dreaming : Let us on by this tremulous light ! Let us bathe in this crystalline light ! Its Sybilic splendour is beaming With hope and in beauty to-night : See ! it flickers up the sky through the night Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming, And be sure it will lead us aright Wc safely may trust to a gleaming That cannot but guide us aright, Since itflickers up to heaventhrough thenight."

Thus I pacified Psycho, and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom And conquered her scruples and gloom ; And we passed to the end of the vista,

alG ANNABEL LEE.

But were stopped by the door ofa tomb

By the door ofa legended tomb ; And I said " What is written, sweet sister, On the door of this legended tomb ?" She replied " Ulalume Ulalume "fis the vault ofthy lost Ulalume !"

Then my heart it grew ashen and sober, As the leaves that were crisped and sere As the leaves that were withering and sere ; And I cried " It was surely October On this very night oflast year That Ijourneyed I journeyed down here-1 That I brought a dead burden down here On this night of all nights in the year, Ah, what demon has tempted me here ? Well I know, now, this dim lake ofAuber This misty mid region ofWeir Well I know, now, this dank tarn ofAuber, This ghoul-haunted woodland ofWeir."

Steuobl Xn.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived, whom you mayknow

By the name ofAnnabel Lee ; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and bo loved by me.

Iwas a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea : Butwe loved with a love that was more than love I and my Annabel Lee With a love that the winged seraphs ofheaven Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee ; So that her high-born kinsman came, And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulehre In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not halfso happy hi heaven, "Went envying her and me Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know, In thiskingdom bythe sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling andkilling my Annabel Leo.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love Ofthose who were older than we Ofmany far wiser than we And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Ofthe beautiful Annabel Lee.

Forthemoonneverbeams,withoutbringingmedreams Ofthe beautiful Annabel Lee ; And the stare never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Ofmy darling my darling my life and my bride, In the sepulehre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Srftal Sallolt.

The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow ; Satins and jewels grand Are all at my command, And I am happy now.

HKIDAL BALLAD. C4!)

And my lord he loves mo well ; But, when first he breathed his vow,I felt my bosom swell For the words rang as a knell, And the voice seemed his who fell In the battle down the dell, And who is happy now.

But he spoke to re-assure me, And he kissed my pallid brow, While a reverie came o'er me, And to the church-yard bore me, And I sighed to him before me, Thinking him dead D'Elormie, " Oh, I am happy now !"

And thus the words were spoken, And this the plighted vow, And, though my faith be broken, And, though my heart be broken, Behold the golden token Thatproves me happy now !

Would God I could awaken ! For I dream I know not how ; And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken, Lest the dead who is forsaken May not be happy now.

In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace Radiant palace reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion, It stood there ! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric halfso fair !

Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow, . (This all this was in the olden Time, long ago,) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odour went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows,saw Spirits moving musically, To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting (Forphyrogene !

In state, his glory well befitting, The ruler ofthe realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Throughwhich cameflowing,flowing,flowing, And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices ofsurpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate. (Ah, let us mourn ! for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate !) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-rcmcmbercd story Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically, To a discordant melody ; While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out for ever, And laugh but smile no more.

(fttlotte.

I dwelt alone, In a world ofmoan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride Till the yellow-haired youngEulaliebecame my smiling bride.

Ah, less less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes ofthe radiant girl! And never a flake That the vapour can make With the moon-tints ofpurple and pearl,

POIl ANNIR.

CanviewiththemodestEulahVsmostunregardedcurl Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most hum ble and careless curl.

Now doubt now pain Come never again, For her soul gives me sigh for sigh ; And ail day long Shines, bright and strong, Astarte within the sky ; Whileever toher dearEulalio upturnshermatron eye While ever to heryoung Eulalio upturns herviolet eye.

jFnr Ittnte.

Thank Heaven ! the crisis

The danger is past, And the lingering illnessIs over at last And the fever called " Living" Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know, I ain shorn ofmy strength, And no muscle 1 move. As I lie at full length But no matter ! I feel I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly, Now, in my bed, That any beholder Might fancy me dead Might start at beholding me, Thinking mc dead.

FOU ANNIE. S

The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing At heart : ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing !

The sickness the nausea

The pitiless pain Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain With the fever called " Living" That burned in my brain.

And oh ! of all tortures, That torture the worst, Has abated the terrible Torture ofthirst, For the napthaline river Of Passion accurst: I have drank ofa water * That quenches all thirst :

Ofa water that flows. With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground From a cavern not very far Down under ground.

And ah ! let it never Be foolishly said That my room it is gloomy, And narrow my bed ;For man never slept In a different bed And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed.

254 FOR ANNIE.

My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never ltegretting its roses Its old agitations Ofmyrtles and roses :

For now, while so quietly Lying, it fancies

A holier odour About it, ofpansies A rosemary odour, Commingled with pnnsics With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty ofAnnieDrowned in a bath Of the tresses ofAnnie.

She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast Deeply to sleep From the heaven ofher breast.

When the light was extinguished, She covered me warm, And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm To the queen ofthe angels To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly, Now, in my bed, (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead; And I rest so contentedly, Now, in my bed, , (With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead That you shudder to look at me, Thinking me dead.

But my heart it is brighter Than all ofthe many Stars in the sky, For it sparkles with AnnieItglows with the light u Ofthe love ofmy Annie With the thought ofthe light Ofthe eyes ofmy Annie.

% fdmtme;

Fob her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes, Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda, Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies Upon' the page, enwrapped from every reader. Search narrowly the lines ! they hold a treasure Divine4 a talisman an amulet Thatmust be worn at heart. Search well the measure The words the syllables ! Do not forget

* In this and the following poem, read the first letter of the first lino connectionin with tho second letter of tho second line, tho third letter of thirdtho lino, the fourth of the fourth, and so on to the end. The name of personthe to whom it was addressed will thus appear.

:<.(

AN ENIGMA.

The trivialest point, or you may lose your labour ! And yet there is in this no Gbrdion knot Which one might not undo without a sabre, If one could merely comprehend the plot. Unwritten upon the leaf where now are peering Eyes seyritillating soul, there lieperdus

Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing Ofpoets, by poets as the name is a poet's too. Its letters, although naturally lylhg

Like the knight Pinto Mendez Ferdinando

Still form a synonym for Truth. Cease trying ! You will not read the riddle, though you do flubest you can do.

%n Ctttgmn.

" Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunee, " HAlf an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Th/ough all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet Trash ofall trash ! how can a lady don it r Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff Owl-dow.jry nonsense that the faintest puff Twirls iilto trunk-paper the while you con it."

- And veritably, Sol is right enough. The generaj tuckcrmanities are arrant Bubbles ephemeral and so transparent But this is, nojV' you may depend upon it Stable, opaque,.immortal all by dint Ofthe dear names'that lie concealed within't.

THE EXD.

This book is a preservation photocopy. It was produced on Hammermill Laser Print natural white, a 60 # book weight acid-free archival paper which meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper)

Preservation photocopying and binding by Acme Bookbinding Charlestown, Massachusetts

m 1996