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The Murders in The Rue Morgue

Edgar Allan Poe

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achillesassumed when he hid himself among women,although puzzling questions are not beyond allconjecture.

--SIR THOMAS BROWNE, Urn-Burial.

THE mental features discoursed of as the analytical,are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analysis.We appreciate them only in their effects. We knowof them, among other things, that they are alwaysto their possessor, when inordinately possessed, asource of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strongman exults in his physical ability, delighting in suchexercises as call his muscles into action, so gloriesthe analyst in that moral activity whichdisentangles. He derives pleasure from even themost trivial occupations bringing his talents intoplay. He is fond of enigmas, of conundrums, ofhieroglyphics; exhibiting in his solutions of each adegree of acumen which appears to the ordinaryapprehension preternatural. His results, broughtabout by the very soul and essence of method,have, in truth, the whole air of intuition. The facultyof re-solution is possibly much invigorated bymathematical study, and especially by that highestbranch of it which, unjustly, and merely on accountof its retrograde operations, has been called, as if

par excellence, analysis. Yet to calculate is not initself to analyze. A chess-player, for example, doesthe one without effort at the other. It follows thatthe game of chess, in its effects upon mentalcharacter, is greatly misunderstood. I am not nowwriting a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhatpeculiar narrative by observations very much atrandom; I will, therefore, take occasion to assertthat the higher powers of the reflective intellect aremore decidedly and more usefully tasked by theunostentatious game of draughts than by all theelaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where thepieces have different and bizarre motions, withvarious and variable values, what is only complex ismistaken (a not unusual error) for what isprofound.

The attention is here called powerfully intoplay. If it flag for an instant, an oversight iscommitted, resulting in injury or defeat. Thepossible moves being not only manifold butinvolute, the chances of such oversights aremultiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it is themore concentrative rather than the more acuteplayer who conquers. In draughts, on the contrary,where the moves are unique and have but little

variation, the probabilities of inadvertence arediminished, and the mere attention being leftcomparatively what advantages are obtained byeither party are obtained by superior acumen. Tobe less abstract --Let us suppose a game ofdraughts where the pieces are reduced to fourkings, and where, of course, no oversight is to beexpected. It is obvious that here the victory can bedecided (the players being at all equal) only bysome recherche movement, the result of somestrong exertion of the intellect. Deprived of ordinaryresources, the analyst throws himself into the spiritof his opponent, identifies himself therewith, andnot unfrequently sees thus, at a glance, the sole

methods (sometimes indeed absurdly simple ones)by which he may seduce into error or hurry intomiscalculation.

Whist has long been noted for its influenceupon what is termed the calculating power; andmen of the highest order of intellect have beenknown to take an apparently unaccountable delightin it, while eschewing chess as frivolous. Beyonddoubt there is nothing of a similar nature so greatlytasking the faculty of analysis. The best chess-player in Christendom may be little more than thebest player of chess; but proficiency in whistimplies capacity for success in all these more

important undertakings where mind struggles withmind. When I say proficiency, I mean thatperfection in the game which includes acomprehension of all the sources whence legitimateadvantage may be derived. These are not onlymanifold but multiform, and lie frequently amongrecesses of thought altogether inaccessible to theordinary understanding. To observe attentively is toremember distinctly; and, so far, the concentrativechess-player will do very well at whist; while therules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the meremechanism of the game) are sufficiently andgenerally comprehensible. Thus to have a retentivememory, and to proceed by "the book," are points

commonly regarded as the sum total of goodplaying. But it is in matters beyond the limits ofmere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. Hemakes, in silence, a host of observations andinferences. So, perhaps, do his companions; andthe difference in the extent of the informationobtained, lies not so much in the validity of theinference as in the quality of the observation. Thenecessary knowledge is that of what to observe.Our player confines himself not at all; nor, becausethe game is the object, does he reject deductionsfrom things external to the game. He examines thecountenance of his partner, comparing it carefullywith that of each of his opponents. He considers themode of assorting the cards in each hand; oftencounting trump by trump, and honor by honor,through the glances bestowed by their holders upon


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each. He notes every variation of face as the playprogresses, gathering a fund of thought from thedifferences in the expression of certainty, ofsurprise, of triumph, or chagrin. From the mannerof gathering up a trick he judges whether theperson taking it can make another in the suit. Herecognizes what is played through feint, by the airwith which it is thrown upon the table. A casual orinadvertent word; the accidental dropping or

turning of a card, with the accompanying anxiety orcarelessness in regard to its concealment; thecounting of the tricks, with the order of theirarrangement; embarrassment, hesitation,eagerness or trepidation -- all afford, to hisapparently intuitive perception, indications of thetrue state of affairs. The first two or three roundshaving been played, he is in full possession of thecontents of each hand, and thenceforward putsdown his cards with as absolute a precision ofpurpose as if the rest of the party had turnedoutward the faces of their own.

The analytical power should not beconfounded with simple ingenuity; for while the

analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious manoften remarkably incapable of analysis. Theconstructive or combining power, by whichingenuity is usually manifested, and which thephrenologists (I believe erroneously) have assigneda separate organ, supposing it a primitive faculty,has been so frequently seen in those whoseintellect bordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to haveattracted general observation among writers onmorals. Between ingenuity and the analytic abilitythere exists a difference far greater, indeed, thanthat between the fancy and the imagination, but ofa character very strictly analogous. It will found, in

fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and thetruly imaginative never otherwise than analytic.The narrative which follows will appear to the

reader somewhat in the light of a commentary uponthe propositions just advanced. Residing in Parisduring the spring and part of the summer of 18--, Ithere became acquainted with a Monsieur C.Auguste Dupin. This young gentleman was of anexcellent --indeed of an illustrious family, but, by avariety of untoward events, had been reduced tosuch poverty that the energy of his charactersuccumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestirhimself in the world, or to care for the retrieval ofhis fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there still

remained in his possession a small remnant of hispatrimony; and, upon the income arising from this,he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, toprocure the necessaries of life, without troublinghimself about its superfluities. Books, indeed, werehis sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easilyobtained.

Our first meeting was at an obscure library inthe Rue Montmartre, where the accident of ourboth being in search of the same very rare and veryremarkable volume, brought us into closercommunion. We saw each other again and again. Iwas deeply interested in the little family historywhich he detailed to me with all that candor whicha Frenchman indulges whenever mere self is thetheme. I was astonished, too, at the vast extent ofhis reading; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled

within me by the wild fervor, and the vividfreshness of his imagination. Seeking in Paris theobjects I then sought, I felt that the society of sucha man would be to me a treasure beyond price; andthis feeling I frankly confided to him. It was atlength arranged that we should live together duringmy stay in the city; and as my worldlycircumstances were somewhat less embarrassedthan his own, I was permitted to be at the expense

of renting, and furnishing in a style which suitedthe rather fantastic gloom of our common temper,a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, long desertedthrough superstitions into which we did not inquire,and tottering to its fall in a retired and desolateportion of the Faubourg St. Germain.

Had the routine of our life at this place beenknown to the world, we should have been regardedas madmen --although, perhaps, as madmen of aharmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. Weadmitted no visitors. Indeed the locality of ourretirement had been carefully kept a secret frommy own former associates; and it had been manyyears since Dupin had ceased to know or be known

in Paris. We existed within ourselves alone.It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what

else shall I call it?) to be enamored of the Night forher own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all hisothers, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wildwhims with a perfect abandon. The sable divinitywould not herself dwell with us always; but wecould counterfeit her presence. At the first dawn ofthe morning we closed all the massy shutters of ourold building; lighted a couple of tapers which,strongly perfumed, threw out only the ghastliestand feeblest of rays. By the aid of these we thenbusied our souls in dreams --reading, writing, or

conversing, until warned by the clock of the adventof the true Darkness. Then we sallied forth into thestreets, arm and arm, continuing the topics of theday, or roaming far and wide until a late hour,seeking, amid the wild lights and shadows of thepopulous city, that infinity of mental excitementwhich quiet observation can afford.

At such times I could not help remarking andadmiring (although from his rich ideality I had beenprepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability inDupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight inits exercise --if not exactly in its display --and didnot hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived.He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh, that

most men, in respect to himself, wore windows intheir bosoms, and was wont to follow up suchassertions by direct and very startling proofs of hisintimate knowledge of my own. His manner atthese moments was frigid and abstract; his eyeswere vacant in expression; while his voice, usuallya rich tenor, rose into a treble which would havesounded petulantly but for the deliberateness andentire distinctness of the enunciation. Observinghim in these moods, I often dwelt meditativelyupon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, andamused myself with the fancy of a double Dupin --the creative and the resolvent.

Let it not be supposed, from what I have justsaid, that I am detailing any mystery, or penningany romance. What I have described in theFrenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or


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perhaps of a diseased intelligence. But of thecharacter of his remarks at the periods in questionan example will best convey the idea.

We were strolling one night down a long dirtystreet, in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Beingboth, apparently, occupied with thought, neither ofus had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes atleast. All at once Dupin broke forth with thesewords:- "He is a very little fellow, that's true, and

would do better for the Theatre des Varietes.""There can be no doubt of that," I replied

unwittingly, and not at first observing (so much hadI been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinarymanner in which the speaker had chimed in withmy meditations. In an instant afterward Irecollected myself, and my astonishment wasprofound.

"Dupin," said I, gravely, "this is beyond mycomprehension. I do not hesitate to say that I amamazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. Howwas it possible you should know I was thinking of --?" Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a doubtwhether he really knew of whom I thought.

--"of Chantilly," said he, "why do you pause?You were remarking to yourself that his diminutivefigure unfitted him for tragedy."

This was precisely what had formed thesubject of my reflections.

Chantilly was a quondam cobbler of the RueSt. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, hadattempted the role of Xerxes, in Crebillon's tragedyso called, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for hispains.

"Tell me, for Heaven's sake," I exclaimed,"the method --if method there is --by which youhave been enabled to fathom my soul in this

matter." In fact I was even more startled than Iwould have been willing to express."It was the fruiterer," replied my friend, "who

brought you to the conclusion that the mender ofsoles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et idgenus omne."

"The fruiterer! --you astonish me --I know nofruiterer whomsoever."

"The man who ran up against you as weentered the street --it may have been fifteenminutes ago."

I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer,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 thoroughfarewhere we stood; but what this had to do withChantilly I could not possibly understand.

There was not a particle of charlatanerieabout Dupin. "I will explain," he said, "and that youmay comprehend all clearly, we will explain," hesaid, "and that you may comprehend all clearly, wewill first retrace the course of your meditations,from the moment in which I spoke to you until thatof the rencontre with the fruiterer in question. Thelarger links of the chain run thus --Chantilly, Orion,Dr. Nichols, Epicurus, Stereotomy, the streetstones, the fruiterer."

There are few persons who have not, at someperiod of their lives, amused themselves inretracing the steps by which particular conclusionsof their own minds have been attained. The

occupation is often full of interest; and he whoattempts it for the first time is astonished by theapparently illimitable distance and incoherencebetween the starting-point and the goal. What,then, must have been my amazement when I heardthe Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, andwhen I could not help acknowledging that he hadspoken the truth. He continued:

"We had been talking of horses, if I

remember aright, just before leaving the Rue C--.This was the last subject we discussed. As wecrossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a largebasket upon his head, brushing quickly past us,thrust you upon a pile of paving-stones collected ata spot where the causeway is undergoing repair.You stepped upon one of the loose fragments)slipped, slightly strained your ankle, appearedvexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned tolook at the pile, and then proceeded in silence. Iwas not particularly attentive to what you did; butobservation has become with me, of late, a speciesof necessity.

"You kept your eyes upon the ground --

glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holesand ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you werestill thinking of the stones,) until we reached thelittle alley called Lamartine, which has been paved,by way of experiment, with the overlapping andriveted blocks. Here your countenance brightenedup, and, perceiving your lips move, I could notdoubt that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' aterm very affectedly applied to this species ofpavement. I knew that you could not say toyourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to thinkof atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus;and since, when we discussed this subject not very

long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yetwith how little notice, the vague guesses of thatnoble Greek had met with confirmation in the latenebular cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoidcasting your eyes upward to the great nebula inOrion, and I certainly expected that you would doso. You did look up; and I was now assured that Ihad correctly followed your steps. But in that bittertirade upon Chantilly, which appeared inyesterday's 'Musee,' the satirist, making somedisgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change ofname upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latinline about which we have often conversed. I meanthe line Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum.

I had told you that this was in reference toOrion, formerly written Urion; and, from certainpungencies connected with this explanation, I wasaware that you could not have forgotten it. It wasclear, therefore, that you would not fall to combinethe ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you didcombine them I say by the character of the smilewhich passed over your lips. You thought of thepoor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had beenstooping in your gait; but now I saw you drawyourself up to your full height. I was then sure thatyou reflected upon the diminutive figure ofChantilly. At this point I interrupted yourmeditations to remark that as, in fact, he was avery little fellow that Chantilly --he would dobetter at the Theatre des Varietes."


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Not long after this, we were looking over anevening edition of the "Gazette des Tribunaux,"when the following paragraphs arrested ourattention.

"Extraordinary Murders. --This morning,about three o'clock, the inhabitants of the QuartierSt. Roch were aroused from sleep by a successionof terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from thefourth story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known

to be in the sole occupancy of one MadameL'Espanaye, and her daughter, MademoiselleCamille L'Espanaye. After some delay, occasionedby a fruitless attempt to procure admission in theusual manner, the gateway was broken in with acrowbar, and eight or ten of the neighbors entered,accompanied by two gendarmes. By this time thecries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up thefirst flight of stairs, two or more rough voices, inangry contention, were distinguished, and seemedto proceed from the upper part of the house. As thesecond landing was reached, these sounds, also,had ceased, and everything remained perfectlyquiet. The party spread themselves, and hurried

from room to room. Upon arriving at a large backchamber in the fourth story, (the door of which,being found locked, with the key inside, was forcedopen,) a spectacle presented itself which struckevery one present not less with horror than withastonishment.

"The apartment was in the wildest disorder --the furniture broken and thrown about in alldirections. There was only one bedstead; and fromthis the bed had been removed, and thrown intothe middle of the floor. On a chair lay a razor,besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two orthree long and thick tresses of grey human hair,

also dabbled in blood, and seeming to have beenpulled out by the roots. Upon the floor were foundfour Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three largesilver spoons, three smaller of metal d'Alger, andtwo bags, containing nearly four thousand francs ingold. The drawers of a bureau, which stood in onecorner, were open, and had been, apparently,rifled, although many articles still remained inthem. A small iron safe was discovered under thebed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with thekey still in the door. It had no contents beyond afew old letters, and other papers of littleconsequence.

"Of Madame L'Espanaye no traces were here

seen; but an unusual quantity of soot beingobserved in the fire-place, a search was made inthe chimney, and (horrible to relate!) the corpse ofthe daughter, head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having been thus forced up the narrowaperture for a considerable distance. The body wasquite warm. Upon examining it, many excoriationswere perceived, no doubt occasioned by theviolence with which it had been thrust up anddisengaged. Upon the face were many severescratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises, anddeep indentations of finger nails, as if the deceasedhad been throttled to death.

"After a thorough investigation of everyportion of the house, without farther discovery, theparty made its way into a small paved yard in therear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old

lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon anattempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, aswell as the head, was fearfully mutilated --theformer so much so as scarcely to retain anysemblance of humanity.

"To this horrible mystery there is not as yet,we believe, the slightest clew."

The next day's paper had these additionalparticulars.

"The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Manyindividuals have been examined in relation to thismost extraordinary and frightful affair," [The word'affaire' has not yet, in France, that levity of importwhich it conveys with us] "but nothing whateverhas transpired to throw light upon We give belowall the material testimony elicited.

"Pauline Dubourg, laundress, deposes thatshe has known both the deceased for three years,having washed for them during that period. The oldlady and her daughter seemed on good terms-veryaffectionate towards each other. They wereexcellent pay. Could not speak in regard to theirmode or means of living. Believed that Madame L.

told fortunes for a living. Was reputed to havemoney put by. Never met any persons in the housewhen she called for the clothes or took them home.Was sure that they had no servant in employ.There appeared to be no furniture in any part of thebuilding except in the fourth story.

"Pierre Moreau, tobacconist, deposes that hehas been in the habit of selling small quantities oftobacco and snuff to Madame L'Espanaye for nearlyfour years. Was born in the neighborhood, and hasalways resided there. The deceased and herdaughter had occupied the house in which thecorpses were found, for more than six years. It was

formerly occupied by a jeweller, who under-let theupper rooms to various persons. The house was theproperty of Madame L. She became dissatisfiedwith the abuse of the premises by her tenant, andmoved into them herself, refusing to let anyportion. The old lady was childish. Witness hadseen the daughter some five or six times during thesix years. The two lived an exceedingly retired life --were reputed to have money. Had heard it saidamong the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes--did not believe it. Had never seen any personenter the door except the old lady and herdaughter, a porter once or twice, and a physiciansome eight or ten times.

"Many other persons, neighbors, gaveevidence to the same effect. No one was spoken ofas frequenting the house. It was not knownwhether there were any living connexions ofMadame L. and her daughter. The shutters of thefront windows were seldom opened.

Those in the rear were always closed, withthe exception of the large back room, fourth story.The house was a good house --not very old.

"Isidore Muset, gendarme, deposes that hewas called to the house about three o'clock in themorning, and found some twenty or thirty personsat the gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance.Forced it open, at length, with a bayonet --not witha crowbar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open,on account of its being a double or folding gate,and bolted neither at bottom nor top. The shrieks


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were continued until the gate was forced -- andthen suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screamsof some person (or persons) in great agony --wereloud and drawn out, not short and quick. Witnessled the way up stairs. Upon reaching the firstlanding, heard two voices in loud and angrycontention the one a gruff voice, the other muchshriller --a very strange voice. Could distinguishsome words of the former, which was that of a

Frenchman. Was positive that it was not a woman'svoice. Could distinguish the words 'sacre' and'diable.' The shrill voice was that of a foreigner.Could not be sure whether it was the voice of aman or of a woman. Could not make out what wassaid, but believed the language to be Spanish. Thestate of the room and of the bodies was describedby this witness as we described them yesterday.

"Henri Duval, a neighbor, and by trade asilversmith, deposes that he was one of the partywho first entered the house. Corroborates thetestimony of Muset in general. As soon as theyforced an entrance, they reclosed the door, to keepout the crowd, which collected very fast,

notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrillvoice, the witness thinks, was that of an Italian.Was certain it was not French. Could not be surethat it was a man's voice. It might have been awoman's. Was not acquainted with the Italianlanguage. Could not distinguish the words, but wasconvinced by the intonation that the speaker wasan Italian. Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Hadconversed with both frequently. Was sure that theshrill voice was not that of either of the deceased.

"--Odenheimer, restaurateur. This witnessvolunteered his testimony. Not speaking French,was examined through an interpreter. Is a native of

Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time ofthe shrieks. They lasted for several minutes --probably ten. They were long and loud --very awfuland distressing. Was one of those who entered thebuilding. Corroborated the previous evidence inevery respect but one. Was sure that the shrillvoice was that of a man --of a Frenchman. Couldnot distinguish the words uttered. They were loudand quick --unequal --spoken apparently in fear aswell as in anger. The voice was harsh --not somuch shrill as harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice.The gruff voice said repeatedly 'sacre,' 'diable' andonce 'mon Dieu.'

"Jules Mignaud, banker, of the firm of

Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elderMignaud. Madame L'Espanaye had some property.Had opened an account with his baking house inthe spring of the year --(eight years previously).Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had checkedfor nothing until the third day before her death,when she took out in person the sum of 4000francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerk senthome with the money.

"Adolphe Le Bon, clerk to Mignaud et Fils,deposes that on the day in question, about noon,he accompanied Madame L'Espanaye to herresidence with the 4000 francs, put up in two bags.Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L.appeared and took from his hands one of the bags,while the old lady relieved him of the other. Hethen bowed and departed. Did not see any person

in the street at the time. It is a bye-street verylonely.

William Bird, tailor, deposes that he was oneof the party who entered the house. Is anEnglishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was oneof the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices incontention. The gruff voice was that of aFrenchman. Could make out several words, butcannot now remember all. Heard distinctly 'sacre'

and 'mon Dieu.'There was a sound at the moment as if of

several persons struggling --a scraping andscuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud --louder than the gruff one. Is sure that it was notthe voice of an Englishman. Appeared to be that ofa German. Might have been a woman's voice. Doesnot understand German.

"Four of the above-named witnesses, beingrecalled, deposed that the door of the chamber inwhich was found the body of Mademoiselle L. waslocked on the inside when the party reached it.Every thing was perfectly silent --no groans ornoises of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person

was seen. The windows, both of the back and frontroom, were down and firmly fastened from within.A door between the two rooms was closed, but notlocked. The door leading from the front room intothe passage was locked, with the key on the inside.A small room in the front of the house, on thefourth story, at the head of the passage, was open,the door being ajar. This room was crowded withold beds, boxes, and so forth. These were carefullyremoved and searched. There was not an inch ofany portion of the house which was not carefullysearched. Sweeps were sent up and down thechimneys. The house was a four story one, with

garrets (mansardes). A trap-door on the roof wasnailed down very securely --did not appear to havebeen opened for years. The time elapsing betweenthe hearing of the voices in contention and thebreaking open of the room door, was variouslystated by the witnesses. Some made it as short asthree minutes --some as long as five. The door wasopened with difficulty.

"Alfonzo Garcio, undertaker, deposes that heresides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain.Was one of the party who entered the house. Didnot proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and wasapprehensive of the consequences of agitation.Heard the voices in contention. The gruff voice was

that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish whatwas said. The shrill voice was that of an Englishman--is sure of this. Does not understand the Englishlanguage, but judges by the intonation.

"Alberto Montani, confectioner, deposes thathe was among the first to ascend the stairs. Heardthe voices in question. The gruff voice was that of aFrenchman. Distinguished several words. Thespeaker appeared to be expostulating. Could notmake out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quickand unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian.Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian.Never conversed with a native of Russia.

"Several witnesses, recalled, here testifiedthat the chimneys of all the rooms on the fourthstory were too narrow to admit the passage of ahuman being. By 'sweeps' were meant cylindrical


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sweeping-brushes, such as are employed by thosewho clean chimneys. These brushes were passed upand down every flue in the house. There is no backpassage by which any one could have descendedwhile the party proceeded up stairs. The body ofMademoiselle L'Espanaye was so firmly wedged inthe chimney that it could not be got down until fouror five of the party united their strength.

"Paul Dumas, physician, deposes that he was

called to view the bodies about day-break. Theywere both then lying on the sacking of the bedsteadin the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found.The corpse of the young lady was much bruised andexcoriated. The fact that it had been thrust up thechimney would sufficiently account for theseappearances. The throat was greatly chafed. Therewere several deep scratches just below the chin,together with a series of livid spots which wereevidently the impression of fingers. The face wasfearfully discolored, and the eye-balls protruded.The tongue had been partially bitten through. Alarge bruise was discovered upon the pit of thestomach, produced, apparently, by the pressure of

a knee. In the opinion of M.Dumas, Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been

throttled to death by some person or personsunknown. The corpse of the mother was horriblymutilated. All the bones of the right leg and armwere more or less shattered. The left tibia muchsplintered, as well as all the ribs of the left side.Whole body dreadfully bruised and discolored. Itwas not possible to say how the injuries had beeninflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad bar ofiron --a chair --any large, heavy, and obtuseweapon have produced such results, if wielded bythe hands of a very powerful man. No woman could

have inflicted the blows with any weapon. The headof the deceased, when seen by witness, wasentirely separated from the body, and was alsogreatly shattered. The throat had evidently beencut with some very sharp instrument --probablywith a razor.

"Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called withM. Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated thetestimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.

"Nothing farther of importance was elicited,although several other persons were examined. Amurder so mysterious, and so perplexing in all itsparticulars, was never before committed in Paris --ifindeed a murder has been committed at all. The

police are entirely at fault --an unusual occurrencein affairs of this nature. There is not, however, theshadow of a clew apparent."

The evening edition of the paper stated thatthe greatest excitement continued in the QuartierSt. Roch --that the premises in question had beencarefully re-searched, and fresh examinations ofwitnesses instituted, but all to no purpose. Apostscript, however mentioned that Adolphe Le Bonhad been arrested and imprisoned --althoughnothing appeared to criminate him, beyond thefacts already detailed.

Dupin seemed singularly interested in theprogress of this affair --at least so I judged from hismanner, for he made no comments. It was onlyafter the announcement that Le Bon had beenimprisoned, that he asked me my opinion

respecting the murders. I could merely agree withall Paris in considering them an insoluble mystery. Isaw no means by which it would be possible totrace the murderer.

"We must not judge of the means," saidDupin, "by this shell of an examination. TheParisian police, so much extolled for acumen, arecunning, but no more. There is no method in theirproceedings, beyond the method of the moment.

They make a vast parade of measures; but, notunfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objectsproposed, as to put us in mind of MonsieurJourdain's calling for his robe-de-chambre -- pourmieux entendre la musique. The results attained bythem are not unfrequently surprising, but, for themost part, are brought about by simple diligenceand activity. When these qualities are unavailing,their schemes fall. Vidocq, for example, was a goodguesser, and a persevering man. But, withouteducated thought, he erred continually by the veryintensity of his investigations. He impaired hisvision by holding the object too close. He mightsee, perhaps, one or two points with unusual

clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sightof the matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thingas being too profound. Truth is not always in a well.In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, Ido believe that she is invariably superficial. Thedepth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and notupon the mountain-tops where she is found. Themodes and sources of this kind of error are welltypified in the contemplation of the heavenlybodies. To look at a star by glances --to view it in aside-long way, by turning toward it the exteriorportions of the retina (more susceptible of feebleimpressions of light than the interior), is to behold

the star distinctly --is to have the best appreciationof its luster --a lustre which grows dim just inproportion as we turn our vision fully upon it. Agreater number of rays actually fall upon the eye inthe latter case, but, in the former, there is themore refined capacity for comprehension. By undueprofundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; and itis possible to make even Venus herself vanish fromthe firmament by a scrutiny too sustained, tooconcentrated, or too direct.

"As for these murders, let us enter into someexaminations for ourselves, before we make up anopinion respecting them. An inquiry will afford usamusement," (I thought this an odd term, so

applied, but said nothing) "and, besides, Le Bononce rendered me a service for which I am notungrateful. We will go and see the premises withour own eyes. I know G--, the Prefect of Police, andshall have no difficulty in obtaining the necessarypermission."

The permission was obtained, and weproceeded at once to the Rue Morgue. This is oneof those miserable thoroughfares which intervenebetween the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. Itwas late in the afternoon when we reached it; asthis quarter is at a great distance from that inwhich we resided. The house was readily found; forthere were still many persons gazing up at theclosed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, fromthe opposite side of the way. It was an ordinaryParisian house, with a gateway, on one side of


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which was a glazed watch-box, with a sliding way,on one si panel in the window, indicating a loge deconcierge. Before going in we walked up the street,turned down an alley, and then, again turning,passed in the rear of the building-Dupin,meanwhile, examining the whole neighborhood, aswell as the house, with a minuteness of attentionfor which I could see no possible object.

Retracing our steps, we came again to the

front of the dwelling, rang, and, having shown ourcredentials, were admitted by the agents in charge.We went up stairs --into the chamber where thebody of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye had been found,and where both the deceased still lay. The disordersof the room had, as usual, been suffered to exist. Isaw nothing beyond what had been stated in the"Gazette des Tribunaux." Dupin scrutinized everything-not excepting the bodies of the victims. Wethen went into the other rooms, and into the yard;a gendarme accompanying us throughout. Theexamination occupied us until dark, when we tookour departure. On our way home my companionstopped in for a moment at the office of one of the

dally papers.I have said that the whims of my friend were

manifold, and that Fe les menageais: --for thisphrase there is no English equivalent. It was hishumor, now, to decline all conversation on thesubject of the murder, until about noon the nextday. He then asked me, suddenly, if I had observedany thing peculiar at the scene of the atrocity.

There was something in his manner ofemphasizing the word "peculiar," which caused meto shudder, without 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 consideredinsoluble, for the very reason which should cause itto be regarded as easy of solution --I mean for theoutre character of its features. The police areconfounded by the seeming absence of motive --not for the murder itself --but for the atrocity of themurder. They are puzzled, too, by the seemingimpossibility of reconciling the voices heard incontention, with the facts that no one wasdiscovered up stairs but the assassinatedMademoiselle L'Espanaye, and that there were no

means of egress without the notice of the partyascending. The wild disorder of the room; thecorpse thrust, with the head downward, up thechimney; the frightful mutilation of the body of theold lady; these considerations with those justmentioned, and others which I need not mention,have sufficed to paralyze the powers, by puttingcompletely at fault the boasted acumen, of thegovernment agents. They have fallen into the grossbut common error of confounding the unusual withthe abstruse. But it is by these deviations from theplane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if atall, in its search for the true. In investigations suchas we are now pursuing, it should not be so muchasked 'what has occurred,' as 'what has occurredthat has never occurred before.' In fact, the facilitywith which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the

solution of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of itsapparent insolubility in the eyes of the police."

I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment."I am now awaiting," continued he, looking

toward the door of our apartment --"I am nowawaiting a person who, although perhaps not theperpetrator of these butcheries, must have been insome measure implicated in their perpetration. Ofthe worst portion of the crimes committed, it is

probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am rightin this supposition; for upon it I build myexpectation of reading the entire riddle. I look forthe man here --in this room --every moment. It istrue that he may not arrive; but the probability isthat he will. Should he come, it will be necessary todetain him. Here are pistols; and we both knowhow to use them when occasion demands theiruse."

I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what Idid, or believing what I heard, while Dupin went on,very much as if in a soliloquy. I have alreadyspoken of his abstract manner at such times. Hisdiscourse was addressed to myself; but his voice,

although by no means loud, had that intonationwhich is commonly employed in speaking to someone at a great distance. His eyes, vacant inexpression, regarded only the wall.

"That the voices heard in contention," hesaid, "by the party upon the stairs, were not thevoices of the women themselves, was fully provedby the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt uponthe question whether the old lady could have firstdestroyed the daughter, and afterward havecommitted suicide. I speak of this point chiefly forthe sake of method; for the strength of MadameL'Espanaye would have been utterly unequal to the

task of thrusting her daughter's corpse up thechimney as it was found; and the nature of thewounds upon her own person entirely preclude theidea of self destruction. Murder, then, has beencommitted by some third party; and the voices ofthis third party were those heard in contention. Letme now advert --not to the whole testimonyrespecting these voices --but to what was peculiarin that testimony. Did you observe anythingpeculiar about it?"

I remarked that, while all the witnessesagreed in supposing the gruff voice to be that of aFrenchman, there was much disagreement inregard to the shrill, or, as one individual termed it,

the harsh voice."That was the evidence itself," said Dupin,

"but it was not the peculiarity of the evidence. Youhave observed nothing distinctive. Yet there wassomething to be observed. The witnesses, as youremark, agreed about the gruff voice; they werehere unanimous. But in regard to the shrill voice,the peculiarity is not that they disagreed -- butthat, while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, aHollander, and a Frenchman attempted to describeit, each one spoke of it as that of a foreigner. Eachis sure that it was not the voice of one of his owncountrymen. Each likens it --not to the voice of anindividual of any nation with whose language he isconversant --but the converse. The Frenchmansupposes it the voice of a Spaniard, and 'mighthave distinguished some words had he been


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acquainted with the Spanish.' The Dutchmanmaintains it to have been that of a Frenchman; butwe find it stated that 'not understanding French thiswitness was examined through an interpreter.' TheEnglishman thinks it the voice of a German, and'does not understand German.' The Spaniard 'issure' that it was that of an Englishman, but 'judgesby the intonation' altogether, 'as he has noknowledge of the English.' The Italian believes it

the voice of a Russian, but 'has never conversedwith a native of Russia.' A second Frenchmandiffers, moreover, with the first, and is positive thatthe voice was that of an Italian; but, not beingcognizant of that tongue, is, like the Spaniard,'convinced by the intonation.' Now, how strangelyunusual must that voice have really been, aboutwhich such testimony as this could have beenelicited! in whose tones, even, denizens of the fivegreat divisions of Europe could recognize nothingfamiliar! You will say that it might have been thevoice of an Asiatic --of an African. Neither Asiaticsnor Africans abound in Paris; but, without denyingthe inference,

I will now merely call your attention to threepoints. The voice is termed by one witness 'harshrather than shrill.' It is represented by two othersto have been 'quick and unequal' No words --nosounds resembling words --were by any witnessmentioned as distinguishable.

"I know not," continued Dupin, "whatimpression I may have made, so far, upon yourown understanding; but I do not hesitate to saythat legitimate deductions even from this portion ofthe testimony --the portion respecting the gruff andshrill voices --are in themselves sufficient toengender a suspicion which should give direction to

all farther progress in the investigation of themystery. I said 'legitimate deductions;' but mymeaning is not thus fully expressed. I designed toimply that the deductions are the sole proper ones,and that the suspicion arises inevitably from themas the single result. What the suspicion is, however,I will not say just yet. I merely wish you to bear inmind that, with myself, it was sufficiently forcible togive a definite form --a certain tendency --to myinquiries in the chamber.

"Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, tothis chamber. What shall we first seek here? Themeans of egress employed by the murderers. It isnot too much to say that neither of us believe in

praeternatural events. Madame and MademoiselleL'Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. Thedoers of the deed were material, and escapedmaterially. Then how? Fortunately, there is but onemode of reasoning upon the point, and that modemust lead us to a definite decision. --Let usexamine, each by each, the possible means ofegress. It is clear that the assassins were in theroom where Mademoiselle L'Espanaye was found,or at least in the room adjoining, when the partyascended the stairs. It is then only from these twoapartments that we have to seek issues. The policehave laid bare the floors, the ceilings, and themasonry of the walls, in every direction. No secretissues could have escaped their vigilance. But, nottrusting to their eyes, I examined with my own.There were, then, no secret issues. Both doors

leading from the rooms into the passage weresecurely locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn tothe chimneys. These, although of ordinary width forsome eight or ten feet above the hearths, will notadmit, throughout their extent, the body of a largecat. The impossibility of egress, by means alreadystated, being thus absolute, we are reduced to thewindows. Through those of the front room no onecould have escaped without notice from the crowd

in the street. The murderers must have passed,then, through those of the back room. Now,brought to this conclusion in so unequivocal amanner as we are, it is not our part, as reasoners,to reject it on account of apparent impossibilities. Itis only left for us to prove that these apparent'impossibilities' are, in reality, not such.

"There are two windows in the chamber. Oneof them is unobstructed by furniture, and is whollyvisible. The lower portion of the other is hiddenfrom view by the head of the unwieldy bedsteadwhich is thrust close up against it. The former wasfound securely fastened from within. It resisted theutmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. A

large gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame tothe left, and a very stout nail was found fittedtherein, nearly to the head. Upon examining theother window, a similar nail was seen similarlyfitted in it; and a vigorous attempt to raise thissash, failed also. The police were now entirelysatisfied that egress had not been in thesedirections. And, therefore, it was thought a matterof supererogation to withdraw the nails and openthe windows.

"My own examination was somewhat moreparticular, and was so for the reason I have justgiven --because here it was, I knew, that all

apparent impossibilities must be proved to be notsuch in reality."I proceeded to think thus --a posteriori. The

murderers did escape from one of these windows.This being so, they could not have re-fastened thesashes from the inside, as they were foundfastened; --the consideration which put a stop,through its obviousness, to the scrutiny of thepolice in this quarter. Yet the sashes were fastened.They must, then, have the power of fasteningthemselves. There was no escape from thisconclusion. I stepped to the unobstructedcasement, withdrew the nail with some difficulty,and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted all my

efforts, as I had anticipated.A concealed spring must, I now knew, exist;

and this corroboration of my idea convinced methat my premises, at least, were correct, howevermysterious still appeared the circumstancesattending the nails. A careful search soon broughtto light the hidden spring. I pressed it, and,satisfied with the discovery, forebore to upraise thesash.

"I now replaced the nail and regarded itattentively. A person passing out through thiswindow might have reclosed it, and the springwould have caught --but the nail could not havebeen replaced. The conclusion was plain, and againnarrowed in the field of my investigations. Theassassins must have escaped through the otherwindow. Supposing, then, the springs upon each


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sash to be the same, as was probable, there mustbe found a difference between the nails, or at leastbetween the modes of their fixture. Getting uponthe sacking of the bedstead, I looked over theheadboard minutely at the second casement.Passing my hand down behind the board, I readilydiscovered and pressed the spring, which was, as Ihad supposed, identical in character with itsneighbor. I now looked at the nail. It was as stout

as the other, and apparently fitted in the samemanner --driven in nearly up to the head.

"You will say that I was puzzled; but, if youthink so, you must have misunderstood the natureof the inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I hadnot been once 'at fault.' The scent had never for aninstant been lost. There was no flaw in any link ofthe chain. I had traced the secret to its ultimateresult, --and that result was the nail. It had, I say,in every respect, the appearance of its fellow in theother window; but this fact was an absolute nullity(conclusive as it might seem to be) when comparedwith the consideration that here, at this point,terminated the clew. 'There must be something

wrong,' I said, 'about the nail.' I touched it; and thehead, with about a quarter of an inch of the shank,came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was inthe gimlet-hole, where it had been broken off. Thefracture was an old one (for its edges wereincrusted with rust), and had apparently beenaccomplished by the blow of a hammer, which hadpartially imbedded, in the top of the bottom sash,the head portion of the nail. Now carefully replacedthis head portion in the indentation whence I hadtaken it, and the resemblance to a perfect nail wascomplete-the fissure was invisible. Pressing thespring, I gently raised the sash for a few inches;

the head went up with it, remaining firm in its bed.I closed the window, and the semblance of thewhole nail was again perfect.

"The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. Theassassin had escaped through the window whichlooked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accordupon his exit (or perhaps purposely closed) it hadbecome fastened by the spring; and it was theretention of this spring which had been mistaken bythe police for that of the nail, --farther inquirybeing thus considered unnecessary.

"The next question is that of the mode ofdescent. Upon this point I had been satisfied in mywalk with you around the building. About five feet

and a half from the casement in question there runsa lightning-rod. From this rod it would have beenimpossible for any one to reach the window itself,to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however,that shutters of the fourth story were of thepeculiar kind called by Parisian carpenters ferrades--a kind rarely employed at the present day, butfrequently seen upon very old mansions at Lyonsand Bordeaux. They are in the form of an ordinarydoor, (a single, not a folding door) except that theupper half is latticed or worked in open trellis thusaffording an excellent hold for the hands. In thepresent instance these shutters are fully three feetand a half broad. When we saw them from the rearof the house, they were both about half open --thatis to say, they stood off at right angles from thewall. It is probable that the police, as well as

myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, ifso, in looking at these ferrades in the line of theirbreadth (as they must have done), they did notperceive this great breadth itself, or, at all events,failed to take it into due consideration. In fact,having once satisfied themselves that no egresscould have been made in this quarter, they wouldnaturally bestow here a very cursory examination.It was clear to me, however, that the shutter

belonging to the window at the head of the bed,would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach towithin two feet of the lightning-rod.

It was also evident that, by exertion of a veryunusual degree of activity and courage, an entranceinto the window, from the rod, might have beenthus effected. --By reaching to the distance of twofeet and a half (we now suppose the shutter opento its whole extent) a robber might have taken afirm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then,his hold upon the rod, placing his feet securelyagainst the wall, and springing boldly from it, hemight have swung the shutter so as to close it, and,if we imagine the window open at the time, might

have swung himself into the room."I wish you to bear especially in mind that I

have spoken of a very unusual degree of activity asrequisite to success in so hazardous and so difficulta feat. It is my design to show you, first, that thething might possibly have been accomplished: --but, secondly and chiefly, I wish to impress uponyour understanding the very extraordinary thealmost praeternatural character of that agility whichcould have accomplished it.

"You will say, no doubt, using the language ofthe law, that 'to make out my case' I should ratherundervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the

activity required in this matter. This may be thepractice in law, but it is not the usage of reason. Myultimate object is only the truth. My immediatepurpose is to lead you to place in juxtaposition thatvery unusual activity of which I have just spoken,with that very peculiar shrill (or harsh) and unequalvoice, about whose nationality no two personscould be found to agree, and in whose utterance nosyllabification could be detected."

At these words a vague and half-formedconception of the meaning of Dupin flitted over mymind. I seemed to be upon the verge ofcomprehension, without power to comprehend --asmen, at times, find themselves upon the brink of

remembrance, without being able, in the end, toremember. My friend went on with his discourse.

"You will see," he said, "that I have shiftedthe question from the mode of egress to that ofingress. It was my design to suggest that both wereeffected in the same manner, at the same point.Let us now revert to the interior of the room. Let ussurvey the appearances here. The drawers of thebureau, it is said, had been rifled, although manyarticles of apparel still remained within them. Theconclusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess --avery silly one --and no more. How are we to knowthat the articles found in the drawers were not allthese drawers had originally contained? MadameL'Espanaye and her daughter lived an exceedinglyretired life --saw no company --seldom went out had little use for numerous changes of habiliment.


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Those found were at least of as good quality as anylikely to be possessed by these ladies. If a thief hadtaken any, why did he not take the best --why didhe not take all? In a word, why did he abandon fourthousand francs in gold to encumber himself with abundle of linen? The gold was abandoned.

Nearly the whole sum mentioned by MonsieurMignaud, the banker, was discovered, in bags, uponthe floor. I wish you, therefore, to discard from

your thoughts the blundering idea of motive,engendered in the brains of the police by thatportion of the evidence which speaks of moneydelivered at the door of the house. Coincidencesten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of themoney, and murder committed within three daysupon the party receiving it), happen to all of usevery hour of our lives, without attracting evenmomentary notice. Coincidences, in general, aregreat stumbling-blocks in the way of that class ofthinkers who have been educated to know nothingof the theory of probabilities --that theory to whichthe most glorious objects of human research areindebted for the most glorious of illustration. In the

present instance, had the gold been gone, the factof its delivery three days before would have formedsomething more than a coincidence. It would havebeen corroborative of this idea of motive. But,under the real circumstances of the case, if we areto suppose gold the motive of this outrage, wemust also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating anidiot as to have abandoned his gold and his motivetogether.

"Keeping now steadily in mind the points towhich I have drawn your attention that peculiarvoice, that unusual agility, and that startlingabsence of motive in a murder so singularly

atrocious as this --let us glance at the butcheryitself. Here is a woman strangled to death bymanual strength, and thrust up a chimney, headdownward. Ordinary assassins employ no suchmodes of murder as this. Least of all, do they thusdispose of the murdered. In the manner ofthrusting the corpse up the chimney, you will thatthere was something excessively outre --somethingaltogether irreconcilable with our common notionsof human action, even when we suppose the actorsthe most depraved of men. Think, too, how greatmust have been that strength which could havethrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly thatthe united vigor of several persons was found

barely sufficient to drag it down!"Turn, now, to other indications of the

employment of a vigor most marvellous. On thehearth were thick tresses --very thick tresses --ofgrey human hair. These had been torn out by theroots. You are aware of the great force necessary intearing thus from the head even twenty or thirtyhairs together. You saw the locks in question aswell as myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) wereclotted with fragments of the flesh of the scalp --sure token of the prodigious power which had beenexerted in uprooting perhaps half a million of hairsat a time. The throat of the old lady was not merelycut, but the head absolutely severed from thebody: the instrument was a mere razor. I wish youalso to look at the brutal ferocity of these deeds. Ofthe bruises upon the body of Madame L'Espanaye I

do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthycoadjutor Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced thatthey were inflicted by some obtuse instrument; andso far these gentlemen are very correct. The obtuseinstrument was clearly the stone pavement in theyard, upon which the victim had fallen from thewindow which looked in upon the bed. This idea,however simple it may now seem, escaped thepolice for the same reason that the breadth of the

shutters escaped them --because, by the affair ofthe nails, their perceptions had been hermeticallysealed against the possibility of the windows haveever been opened at all.

If now, in addition to all these things, youhave properly reflected upon the odd disorder ofthe chamber, we have gone so far as to combinethe ideas of an agility astounding, a strengthsuperhuman, a ferocity brutal, a butchery withoutmotive, a grotesquerie in horror absolutely alienfrom humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to theears of men of many nations, and devoid of alldistinct 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 donethis deed --some raving maniac, escaped from aneighboring Maison de Sante."

"In some respects," he replied, "your idea isnot irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even intheir wildest paroxysms, are never found to tallywith that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs.Madmen are of some nation, and their language,however incoherent in its words, has always thecoherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of amadman is not such as I now hold in my hand. I

disentangled this little tuft from the rigidly clutchedfingers of Madame L'Espanaye. Tell me what youcan make of it."

"Dupin!" I said, completely unnerved; "thishair is most unusual --this is no human hair."

"I have not asserted that it is," said he; "but,before we decide this point, I wish you to glance atthe little sketch I have here traced upon this paper.It is a fac-simile drawing of what has beendescribed in one portion of the testimony as 'darkbruises, and deep indentations of finger nails,' uponthe throat of Mademoiselle L'Espanaye, and inanother, (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne,) as a'series of livid spots, evidently the impression of

fingers.'"You will perceive," continued my friend,

spreading out the paper upon the table before us,"that this drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixedhold. There is no slipping apparent. Each finger hasretained --possibly until the death of the victim --the fearful grasp by which it originally imbeddeditself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers, at thesame time, in the respective impressions as yousee them."

I made the attempt in vain."We are possibly not giving this matter a fair

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


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I did so; but the difficulty was even moreobvious than before.

"This," I said, "is the mark of no humanhand."

"Read now," replied Dupin, "this passagefrom Cuvier." It was a minute anatomical andgenerally descriptive account of the large fulvousOurang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. Thegigantic stature, the prodigious strength and

activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitativepropensities of these mammalia are sufficiently wellknown to all. I understood the full horrors of themurder at once.

"The description of the digits," said I, as Imade an end of reading, "is in exact accordancewith this drawing, I see that no animal but anOurang-Outang, of the species here mentioned,could have impressed the indentations as you havetraced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too, isidentical in character with that of the beast ofCuvier. But I cannot possibly comprehend theparticulars of this frightful mystery. Besides, therewere two voices heard in contention, and one of

them was unquestionably the voice of aFrenchman."

True; and you will remember an expressionattributed almost unanimously, by the evidence, tothis voice, --the expression, 'mon Dieu!' This, underthe circumstances, has been justly characterized byone of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner,) asan expression of remonstrance or expostulation.Upon these two words, therefore, I have mainlybuilt my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. AFrenchman was cognizant of the murder. It ispossible --indeed it is far more than probable --thathe was innocent of all participation in the bloody

transactions which took place. The Ourang-Outangmay have escaped from him. He may have traced itto the chamber; but, under the agitatingcircumstances which ensued, he could never havere-captured it. It is still at large. I will not pursuethese guesses-for I have no right to call them more--since the shades of reflection upon which they arebased are scarcely of sufficient depth to beappreciable by my own intellect, and since I couldnot pretend to make them intelligible to theunderstanding of another. We will call themguesses then, and speak of them as such. If theFrenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose,innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement, which

I left last night, upon our return home, at the officeof 'Le Monde,' (a paper devoted to the shippinginterest, and much sought by sailors,) will bringhim 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-Outang of the Bornesespecies. The owner, (who is ascertained to be asailor, belonging to a Maltese vessel,) may have theanimal again, upon identifying it satisfactorily, andpaying a few charges arising from its capture andkeeping. Call at No.--, Rue --, Faubourg St.Germain --au troisieme.

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

"I do not know it," said Dupin. "I am not sureof it. Here, however, is a small piece of ribbon,which from its form, and from its greasyappearance, has evidently been used in tying thehair in one of those long queues of which sailors areso fond. Moreover, this knot is one which fewbesides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to theMaltese. I picked the ribbon up at the foot of thelightning-rod. It could not have belonged to either

of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in myinduction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman wasa sailor belonging to a Maltese vessel, still I canhave done no harm in saying what I did in theadvertisement. If I am in error, he will merelysuppose that I have been misled by somecircumstance into which he will not take the troubleto inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained.Cognizant although innocent of the murder, theFrenchman will naturally hesitate about replying tothe advertisement -- about demanding the Ourang-Outang. He will reason thus: --'I am innocent; I ampoor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value --to onein my circumstances a fortune of itself -- why

should I lose it through idle apprehensions ofdanger? Here it is, within my grasp. It was found inthe Bois de Boulogne --at a vast distance from thescene of that butchery. How can it ever besuspected that a brute beast should have done thedeed? The police are at fault --they have failed toprocure the slightest clew. Should they even tracethe animal, it would be impossible to prove mecognizant of the murder, or to implicate me in guilton account of that cognizance. Above all, I amknown. The advertiser designates me as thepossessor of the beast. I am not sure to what limithis knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming

a property of so great value, which it is known thatI possess, I will render the animal, at least, liable tosuspicion. It is not my policy to attract attentioneither to myself or to the beast. I will answer theadvertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep itclose until this matter has blown over.

At this moment we heard a step upon thestairs.

"Be ready," said Dupin, "with your pistols, butneither use them nor show them until at a signalfrom myself."

The front door of the house had been leftopen, and the visitor had entered, without ringing,and advanced several steps upon the staircase.

Now, however, he seemed to hesitate. Presently weheard him descending. Dupin was moving quickly tothe door, when we again heard him coming up. Hedid not turn back a second time, but stepped upwith decision and rapped at the door of ourchamber.

"Come in," said Dupin, in a cheerful andhearty tone.

A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, --atall, stout, and muscular-looking person, with acertain dare-devil expression of countenance, notaltogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more than half hidden by whisker andmustachio. He had with him a huge oaken cudgel,but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowedawkwardly, and bade us "good evening," in French


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accents, which, although somewhat Neufchatelish,were still sufficiently indicative of a Parisian origin.

Sit down, my friend," said Dupin. "I supposeyou have called about the Ourang-Outang. Uponmy word, I almost envy you the possession of him;a remarkably fine, and no doubt a very valuableanimal. How old do you suppose him to be?" Thesailor drew a long breath, with the air of a manrelieved of some intolerable burden, and then

replied, in an assured tone:"I have no way of telling --but he can't be

more than four or five years old. Have you got himhere?"

"Oh no; we had no conveniences for keepinghim here. He is at a livery stable in the RueDubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning.Of course you are prepared to identify theproperty?"

"To be sure I am, sir.""I shall be sorry to part with him," said Dupin."I don't mean that you should be at all this

trouble for nothing, sir," said the man."Couldn't expect it. Am very willing to pay a

reward for the finding of the animal --that is to say,any thing in reason."

"Well," replied my friend, "that is all very fair,to be sure. Let me think! --what should I have? Oh!I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shallgive me all the information in your power aboutthese murders in the Rue Morgue."

Dupin said the last words in a very low tone,and very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walkedtoward the door, locked it, and put the key in hispocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom andplaced it, without the least flurry, upon the table.

The sailor's face flushed up as if he were

struggling with suffocation. He started to his feetand grasped his cudgel; but the next moment hefell back into his seat, trembling violently, and withthe countenance of death itself. He spoke not aword. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart.

"My friend," said Dupin, in a kind tone, "youare alarming yourself unnecessarily you areindeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledgeyou the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman,that we intend you no injury. I perfectly well knowthat you are innocent of the atrocities in the RueMorgue. It will not do, however, to deny that youare in some measure implicated in them. Fromwhat 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 nothingwhich you could have avoided --nothing, certainly,which renders you culpable. You were not evenguilty of robbery, when you might have robbed withimpunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have noreason for concealment. On the other hand, you arebound by every principle of honor to confess all youknow. An innocent man is now imprisoned, chargedwith that crime of which you can point out theperpetrator."

The sailor had recovered his presence ofmind, in a great measure, while Dupin utteredthese words; but his original boldness of bearingwas all gone.

"So help me God," said he, after a briefpause, "I will tell you all I know about this affair; --but I do not expect you to believe one half I say --Iwould 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. Hehad lately made a voyage to the IndianArchipelago. A party, of which he formed one,landed at Borneo, and passed into the interior on

an excursion of pleasure. Himself and a companionhad captured the Ourang-Outang. This companiondying, the animal fell into his own exclusivepossession. After great trouble, occasioned by theintractable ferocity of his captive during the homevoyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safelyat his own residence in Paris, where, not to attracttoward himself the unpleasant curiosity of hisneighbors, he kept it carefully secluded, until suchtime as it should recover from a wound in the foot,received from a splinter on board ship. His ultimatedesign was to sell it.

Returning home from some sailors' frolic onthe night, or rather in the morning of the murder,

he found the beast occupying his own bed-room,into which it had broken from a closet adjoining,where it had been, as was thought, securelyconfined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, it wassitting before a looking-glass, attempting theoperation of shaving, in which it had no doubtpreviously watched its master through the key-holeof the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerousa weapon in the possession of an animal soferocious, and so well able to use it, the man, forsome moments, was at a loss what to do. He hadbeen accustomed, however, 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, theOurang-Outang sprang at once through the door ofthe chamber, down the stairs, and thence, througha window, unfortunately open, into the street.

The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape,razor still in hand, occasionally stopping to lookback and gesticulate at its pursuer, until the latterhad nearly come up with it. It then again made off.In this manner the chase continued for a long time.The streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearlythree o'clock in the morning. In passing down analley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive'sattention was arrested by a light gleaming from theopen window of Madame L'Espanaye's chamber, in

the fourth story of her house. Rushing to thebuilding, it perceived the lightning-rod, clamberedup with inconceivable agility, grasped the shutter,which was thrown fully back against the wall, and,by its means, swung itself directly upon theheadboard of the bed. The whole feat did notoccupy a minute. The shutter was kicked openagain by the Ourang-Outang as it entered theroom.

The sailor, in the meantime, was bothrejoiced and perplexed. He had strong hopes ofnow recapturing the brute, as it could scarcelyescape from the trap into which it had ventured,except by the rod, where it might be intercepted asit came down. On the other hand, there was muchcause for anxiety as to what it might do in thehouse. This latter reflection urged the man still to


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follow the fugitive. A lightning-rod is ascendedwithout difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, whenhe had arrived as high as the window, which lay farto his left, his career was stopped; the most that hecould accomplish was to reach over so as to obtaina glimpse of the interior of the room. At thisglimpse he nearly fell from his hold through excessof horror. Now it was that those hideous shrieksarose upon the night, which had startled from

slumber the inmates of the Rue Morgue.Madame L'Espanaye and her daughter,

habited in their night clothes, had apparently beenarranging some papers in the iron chest alreadymentioned, which had been wheeled into themiddle of the room. It was open, and its contentslay beside it on the floor. The victims must havebeen sitting with their backs toward the window;and, from the time elapsing between the ingress ofthe beast and the screams, it seems probable thatit was not immediately perceived. The flapping-toof the shutter would naturally have been attributedto the wind.

As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal

had seized Madame L'Espanaye by the hair, (whichwas loose, as she had been combing it,) and wasflourishing the razor about her face, in imitation ofthe motions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrateand motionless; she had swooned. The screamsand struggles of the old lady (during which the hairwas torn from her head) had the effect of changingthe probably pacific purposes of the Ourang-Outanginto those of wrath. With one determined sweep ofits muscular arm it nearly severed her head fromher body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger intophrenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire fromits eves, it flew upon the body of the girl, and

imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retainingits grasp until she expired. Its wandering and wildglances fell at this moment upon the head of thebed, over which the face of its master, rigid withhorror, was just discernible. The fury of the beast,who no doubt bore still in mind the dreaded whip,was instantly converted into fear. Conscious ofhaving deserved punishment, it seemed desirous ofconcealing its bloody deeds, and skipped about thechamber in an agony of nervous agitation; throwingdown and breaking the furniture as it moved, anddragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion,it seized first the corpse of the daughter, and thrustit up the chimney, as it was found; then that of the

old lady, which it immediately hurled through thewindow headlong.

As the ape approached the casement with itsmutilated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to therod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it,hurried at once home dreading the consequencesof the butchery, and gladly abandoning, in histerror, all solicitude about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon thestaircase were the Frenchman's exclamations ofhorror and affright, commingled with the fiendish

jabberings of the brute.I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-

Outang must have escaped from the chamber, bythe rod, just before the breaking of the door. Itmust have closed the window as it passed throughit. It was subsequently caught by the owner

himself, who obtained for it a very large sum at theJardin des Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released,upon our narration of the circumstances (with somecomments from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefectof Police. This functionary, however well disposedto my friend, could not altogether conceal hischagrin at the turn which affairs had taken, andwas fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two, about thepropriety of every person minding his own

business."Let them talk," said Dupin, who had not

thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; itwill ease his conscience. I am satisfied with havingdefeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, thathe failed in the solution of this mystery, is by nomeans that matter for wonder which he supposesit; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhattoo cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is nostamen. It is all head and no body, like the picturesof the Goddess Laverna, --or, at best, all head andshoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creatureafter all. I like him especially for one master strokeof cant, by which he has attained his reputation for

ingenuity. I mean the way he has 'de nier ce quiest, et d'expliquer ce qui n'est pas.'"*

* Rousseau, Nouvelle Heloise.


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The Grand Inquisitor

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"QUITE impossible, as you see, to start without anintroduction," laughed Ivan. "Well, then, I mean toplace the event described in the poem in thesixteenth century, an age--as you must have beentold at school--when it was the great fashionamong poets to make the denizens and powers ofhigher worlds descend on earth and mix freely withmortals... In France all the notaries' clerks, and themonks in the cloisters as well, used to give grandperformances, dramatic plays in which long sceneswere enacted by the Madonna, the angels, thesaints, Christ, and even by God Himself. In thosedays, everything was very artless and primitive. An

instance of it may be found in Victor Hugo's drama,Notre Dame de Paris, where, at the Municipal Hall,a play called Le Bon Jugement de la Tres-sainte etGraceuse Vierge Marie, is enacted in honour ofLouis XI, in which the Virgin appears personally topronounce her 'good judgment.' In Moscow, duringthe prepetrean period, performances of nearly thesame character, chosen especially from the OldTestament, were also in great favour. Apart fromsuch plays, the world was overflooded with mysticalwritings, 'verses'--the heroes of which were alwaysselected from the ranks of angels, saints and otherheavenly citizens answering to the devotionalpurposes of the age. The recluses of our

monasteries, like the Roman Catholic monks,passed their time in translating, copying, and evenproducing original compositions upon such subjects,and that, remember, during the Tarter period!... Inthis connection, I am reminded of a poem compiledin a convent--a translation from the Greek, ofcourse--called, 'The Travels of the Mother of Godamong the Damned,' with fitting illustrations and aboldness of conception inferior nowise to that ofDante. The 'Mother of God' visits hell, in companywith the archangel Michael as her cicerone to guideher through the legions of the 'damned.' She seesthem all, and is witness to their multifarious

tortures. Among the many other exceedinglyremarkably varieties of tormentsevery categoryof sinners having its own--there is one especiallyworthy of notice, namely a class of the 'damned'

sentenced to gradually sink in a burning lake ofbrimstone and fire. Those whose sins cause them tosink so low that they no longer can rise to thesurface are for ever forgotten by God, i.e., theyfade out from the omniscient memory, says thepoem--an expression, by the way, of anextraordinary profundity of thought, when closelyanalysed. The Virgin is terribly shocked, and fallingdown upon her knees in tears before the throne of

God, begs that all she has seen in hell--all, allwithout exception, should have their sentencesremitted to them. Her dialogue with God iscolossally interesting. She supplicates, she will notleave Him. And when God, pointing to the piercedhands and feet of her Son, cries, 'How can I forgiveHis executioners?' She then commands that all thesaints, martyrs, angels and archangels, shouldprostrate themselves with her before theImmutable and Changeless One and implore Him tochange His wrath into mercy and--forgive them all.The poem closes upon her obtaining from God acompromise, a kind of yearly respite of torturesbetween Good Friday and Trinity, a chorus of the

'damned' singing loud praises to God from their'bottomless pit,' thanking and telling Him:

Thou art right, O Lord, very right, Thou hastcondemned us justly.

"My poem is of the same character."In it, it is Christ who appears on the scene.

True, He says nothing, but only appears and passesout of sight. Fifteen centuries have elapsed sinceHe left the world with the distinct promise to return'with power and great glory'; fifteen long centuriessince His prophet cried, 'Prepare ye the way of theLord!' since He Himself had foretold, while yet onearth, 'Of that day and hour knoweth no man, no,

not the angels of heaven but my Father only.' ButChristendom expects Him still. ..."It waits for Him with the same old faith and

the same emotion; aye, with a far greater faith, forfifteen centuries have rolled away since the lastsign from heaven was sent to man, And blind faithremained alone To lull the trusting heart, As heav'nwould send a sign no more.

"True, again, we have all heard of miraclesbeing wrought ever since the 'age of miracles'passed away to return no more. We had, and stillhave, our saints credited with performing the mostmiraculous cures; and, if we can believe theirbiographers, there have been those among them

who have been personally visited by the Queen ofHeaven. But Satan sleepeth not, and the firstgerms of doubt, and ever-increasing unbelief insuch wonders, already had begun to sprout inChristendom as early as the sixteenth century. Itwas just at that time that a new and terrible heresyfirst made its appearance in the north ofGermany.* [*Luther's reform] A great star 'shiningas it were a lamp... fell upon the fountainswaters'... and 'they were made bitter.' This 'heresy'blasphemously denied 'miracles.' But those whohad remained faithful believed all the moreardently, the tears of mankind ascended to Him asheretofore, and the Christian world was expectingHim as confidently as ever; they loved Him andhoped in Him, thirsted and hungered to suffer anddie for Him just as many of them had done


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before.... So many centuries had weak, trustinghumanity implored Him, crying with ardent faithand fervour: 'How long, O Lord, holy and true, dostThou not come!' So many long centuries hath itvainly appealed to Him, that at last, in Hisinexhaustible compassion, He consenteth to answerthe prayer.... He decideth that once more, if it werebut for one short hour, the people--His long-suffering, tortured, fatally sinful, his loving and

child-like, trusting people--shall behold Him again.The scene of action is placed by me in Spain,

at Seville, during that terrible period of theInquisition, when, for the greater glory of God,stakes were flaming all over the country.

Burning wicked heretics, In grand auto-da-fes.

"This particular visit has, of course, nothingto do with the promised Advent, when, according tothe programme, 'after the tribulation of thosedays,' He will appear 'coming in the clouds ofheaven.' For, that 'coming of the Son of Man,' aswe are informed, will take place as suddenly 'as thelightning cometh out of the east and shineth even

unto the west.' No; this once, He desired to comeunknown, and appear among His children, justwhen the bones of the heretics, sentenced to beburnt alive, had commenced crackling at theflaming stakes. Owing to His limitless mercy, Hemixes once more with mortals and in the sameform in which He was wont to appear fifteencenturies ago. He descends, just at the verymoment when before king, courtiers, knights,cardinals, and the fairest dames of court, before thewhole population of Seville, upwards of a hundredwicked heretics are being roasted, in a magnificentauto-da-fe ad majorem Dei gloriam, by the order of

the powerful Cardinal Grand Inquisitor."He comes silently and unannounced; yet all--how strange--yea, all recognize Him, at once! Thepopulation rushes towards Him as if propelled bysome irresistible force; it surrounds, throngs, andpresses around, it follows Him.... Silently, and witha smile of boundless compassion upon His lips, Hecrosses the dense crowd, and moves softly on. TheSun of Love burns in His heart, and warm rays ofLight, Wisdom and Power beam forth from His eyes,and pour down their waves upon the swarmingmultitudes of the rabble assembled around, makingtheir hearts vibrate with returning love. He extendsHis hands over their heads, blesses them, and from

mere contact with Him, aye, even with Hisgarments, a healing power goes forth. An old man,blind from his birth, cries, 'Lord, heal me, that Imay see Thee!' and the scales falling off the closedeyes, the blind man beholds Him... The crowdweeps for joy, and kisses the ground upon whichHe treads. Children strew flowers along His pathand sing to Him, 'Hosanna!' It is He, it is Himself,they say to each other, it must be He, it can benone other but He! He pauses at the portal of theold cathedral, just as a wee white coffin is carriedin, with tears and great lamentations. The lid is off,and in the coffin lies the body of a fair-child, sevenyears old, the only child of an eminent citizen of thecity. The little corpse lies buried in flowers. 'He willraise the child to life!' confidently shouts the crowdto the weeping mother. The officiating priest who

had come to meet the funeral procession, looksperplexed, and frowns. A loud cry is suddenlyheard, and the bereaved mother prostrates herselfat His feet. 'If it be Thou, then bring back my childto life!' she cries beseechingly. The processionhalts, and the little coffin is gently lowered at hisfeet. Divine compassion beams forth from His eyes,and as He looks at the child, His lips are heard towhisper once more, 'Talitha Cumi' - and

'straightway the damsel arose.' The child rises inher coffin. Her little hands still hold the nosegay ofwhite roses which after death was placed in them,and, looking round with large astonished eyes shesmiles sweetly .... The crowd is violently excited. Aterrible commotion rages among them, thepopulace shouts and loudly weeps, when suddenly,before the cathedral door, appears the CardinalGrand Inquisitor himself.... He is tall, gaunt-lookingold man of nearly four-score years and ten, with astern, withered face, and deeply sunken eyes, fromthe cavity of which glitter two fiery sparks. He haslaid aside his gorgeous cardinal's robes in which hehad appeared before the people at the auto da-fe of

the enemies of the Romish Church, and is now cladin his old, rough, monkish cassock. His sullenassistants and slaves of the 'holy gu

poe dostoyevsky irving

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