The Angel of the Odd

The story follows an unnamed narrator who reads a story about a man who died after accidentally sucking a needle down his throat. He rages at thegullibility of humanity for believing such a hoax. He vows to never fall for such odd stories. Just then, a strange-looking creature made of a keg and wine bottles appears. The creature announces in a heavy accent that he is the Angel of the Odd - and that he is responsible for causing such strange events.

The man, unconvinced, drives the angel away and takes an alcohol-induced nap. Instead of a 25-minute nap, he wakes up two hours later, having missed an appointment to renew his fire insurance. Ironically, his house has caught fire and his only escape is out a window using a ladder the crowd below has provided for him. As he steps down, a hog brushes against the ladder, causing the narrator to fall and fracture his arm.

Later, the narrator's attempts at wooing a rich woman to be his wife end in failure when she realizes he is wearing a wig which he must wear since the fire in his apartment singed off his hair. Then, he tries to woo another woman who also leaves him, scoffing at him for ignoring her as she passes. In reality, a particle had gotten into his eye, momentarily blinding him, just as she passed. Finally, the narrator decides his ill fortune is cause for him to end his life. He decides to commit suicide by drowning himself in a river after removing his clothes ("for this is no reason why we cannot die as we were born," he says). However, a crow runs off with "the most indispensable portion" of his clothes and the man chases after it. As he is running, he runs off a cliff. However, he grabs on to the long rope of a hot air balloon as it happens to be floating by. The Angel of the Odd reappears to him and makes him admit that the bizarre really can happen. The narrator agrees, but is unable to physically perform the pledge that the Angel of the Odd demands because of his fractured arm. The Angel then cuts the rope and the man falls down onto his newly-rebuilt house through the chimney and into the dining room. The man then realizes this was his punishment. "Thus revenged himself the Angel of the Odd."

THE ASSIGNATION

The story begins in Italy. The narrator, who like many of Poe’s characters is unnamed, is on his way home very early in the morning from a party. He is on a gondola when he hears a shriek that causes the gondolier to drop his paddle. As the narrator looks, he realizes that the shriek came from the Marchesa Aphrodite, the most beautiful woman in Venice, who had dropped her baby into the canal.

Several people jump into the canal to try to save the baby, but all come up empty handed. The narrator notes that the Marchesa, instead of staring down into the water where her child fell, is staring up at the prison of the Old Republic. The

narrator also notes that the Marchesa’s husband continues to strum his guitar and occasionally direct the search for his child.

The suddenly, from the “interior of that dark niche” of the Old Republic prison that the Marchesa had been staring at, a figure steps out and plunges into the water. It emerges a few minutes later with the baby. As the figure hands over the child, his cloak falls and reveals a very young man, an acquaintance of the narrator.

The Marchesa stares at the young man and the child is taken by a nurse. The Marchesa then says “Thou hast conquered…—one hour after sunrise—we shall meet—so let it be!” The young man began to shake with “inconceivable agitation.” The narrator offers the man the service of his gondola and after the gondolier recovers a paddle, delivers the young man to his house.

During the ride the narrator describes the young man to the readers in great detail. Also during the ride the young man and the narrator talk, and at the end of the ride the young man invites the narrator to visit him at sunrise.

When the narrator arrives at the young man’s house the next morning he is taken to a room “whose unparalleled splendor burst through the opening door with an actual glare…” The narrator and the young man talk about many things: philosophy, poetry, politics etc. During the talk the narrator notes some things about the young man that he finds out of character, such as a poetry book with notes in English when the young man claims to not speak English.

At one point the young man reveals a full length portrait of the Marchesa Aphrodite. The narrator and the young man speak for a little longer then drink to the portrait. The young man proceeds to throw himself on the couch for a nap.

Just as the young man lays down, a disturbance at the door draws the narrator away, but before he can answer it, a page of Mentoni’s household “burst into the room, and faltered out, in a voice choking with emotion, the incoherent words, “My mistress!—my mistress!—poisoned!”

The narrator turns to the young man to wake him and discovers that “his limbs were rigid—his lips were livid—his lately beaming eyes were riveted in death.”

The Balloon-Hoax

A newspaper caption announces "Astounding News by Express, via Norfolk!--The Atlantic Crossed in Three Days! Signal Triumph of Mr. Monck Mason's Flying Machine--Arrival at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, S.C., of Mr. Mason, Mr. Robert Holland, Mr. Henson, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and four others, in the Steering Balloon, "Victoria," after a Passage of Seventy-Five Hours from Land to Land! Full Particulars of the Voyage!" Poe, pg. 212. Following this is an explanation

directly from Poe that these headlines had first appeared in the New York Sun and had excited all of the "quidnuncs," or busybodies in New York before they had received verification from Charleston that the story was not true at all. He adds that the mad rush of people to buy the newspaper was beyond description, implying that this was amusing to him. Finally, he states with great pride that even if a balloon named "Victoria" did not actually cross the Atlantic Ocean as the article initially reported, there is not a single flaw in his story to prove otherwise, since it was so convincingly written due to Poe's literary talents.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

The full text of the original article thus follows. The article excitedly declares that "The air...has been subdued by science" and reiterates the details in the caption, that the Atlantic has been crossed in only seventy-five hours, adding that this information comes from a reporter down in Charleston named Mr. Forsyth. The trip began at 11 o'clock in the morning on April 6th in Great Britain and ended at two o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday the 9th of April on Sullivan's Island in South Carolina. In addition to famous aeronauts Monck Mason, Holland, and Mr. Henson, there is the famous authors of Jack Sheppard, Harrison Ainsworth, Sir Everard Bringhurst, a nephew of Lord Bentinck named Mr. Osborne, and two sailors from Woolwich, England. The text of the remainder of this article come from the following selections taken from the detailed diaries of Mason and Ainsworth.

First of all, the actual construction of the balloon is explained as being the culmination of many scientists' ideas. Henson and another inventor named Sir George Cayley had both tried to create effective flying machines capable of traveling long distances and had failed prior to this balloon flight; part of Cayley's error was in using propellers to move a hang glider-type object forward, which resulted in the machine crashing into the ground. The propellers did little to move it ahead; modifying this plan, Cayley attached propellers to a balloon instead, displaying it at the Polytechnic Institution in London. However, once tested, this balloon was not able to rise either, because of the propellers. Monck Mason then modified this design, adding an Archimedean screw so that the gas levels could be increased accordingly, allowing for the balloon to rise without depending upon these propellers; Mason displayed his first functioning model at Willis's Rooms, and then to the Adelaide Gallery. The balloon was ellipsical in shape, with a dangling wicker basket for people to ride in. Extremely vivid details are provided of the machine's appearance, from the screw that controls the gas flow to the rudder that steers the craft. Mathematical figures of exact measurements and weights are mentioned as well.

At the Adelaide Gallery, this machine did not interest many people, however, because it seemed so primitive compared to the complicated plane-like "Aerial Steam Carriage" design of Mr. William Henson. Regardless, Mason's machine flew admirably well and passed all of his initial tests; he thus planned an expedition over to Europe, tracing the route laid out by the original Nassau balloon in 1837. He chose Osborne and Bringhurst because they are scientists reportedly, and

Osborne offered to build the full size version of this balloon on his property in North Wales called the Wheal-Vor House secretly, so that nobody will hear about their invention. This fact also suggests why nobody had heard about this balloon before the article was printed in The New York Sun, because of Osborne's desire for secrecy. Mason also employs Holland and Henson to assist in this operation, and Henson brings along his friend, the author Ainsworth to join them as well. The addition of two sailors remains unexplained, that it is not at all clear how exactly they became a part of this expedition. The article acknowledges the contributions of scientist Charles Green, whose research has aided these men in properly inflating the balloon with air.

The inflation process is also well-illustrated, "The balloon is composed of silk, varnished with the liquid gun caoutchouc. It is of vast dimensions, containing more than 40,000 cubic feet of gas; but as coal gas was employed in place of the more expensive and inconvenient hydrogen, the supporting power of the machine, when fully inflated, and immediately after inflation, is not more than about 2500 pounds. The coal gas is not only much less costly, but is easily procured and managed" Poe, pg. 216. To control the balloon's course, the men add weighted bags called ballasts, allowing for them to drop these weights out of the balloon when it needs to go higher in conjunction with more gas being released into the balloon. This can occur if moisture builds up on the balloon's outside and makes it heavier than usual, for example. Another tool in controlling the balloon's altitude is a guide rope invented by Charles Green, that drags along the ground behind the balloon as it floats, or that floats across the water using buoys. When the balloon is too low, they pull the rope up to make it rise with less drag beneath it, and when the balloon is too high, they release more of the rope down to the earth to cause it to sink. This way, gas stores are conserved without having to constantly add or take away their limited supplies of coal gas to alter the balloon's height. After the balloon is inflated at Osborne's house in northern Wales, the men climb aboard on the 6th of April and depart at eleven o'clock in the morning.

The full text of Mason and Ainsworth's journal of their three day voyage is included next, as the balloon loaded with those eight men (with the two seamen having mysteriously appeared) heads eastward towards the British Channel bordering the European mainland. The balloon rises much more easily than they had thought, and even when all of the guide rope was released, the balloon continues to rise up to an altitude of about three miles after ten minutes, according to the barometer they have brought along. The view around them is unspeakably beautiful, although the balloon, guided by wind currents, starts to move towards the southeast, where they soon see the Bristol Channel laying beneath them, and then behind them as they are pushed out over the Atlantic Ocean. Concerned that they are being carried off course, the men then try to steer the rudder and use the propeller to turn the balloon around. This attempt appears to work at first, and they write a quick note describing their mission, placing it into a bottle and toss it into the ocean, thinking that they will be leaving the Atlantic Ocean behind them. Soon after, the propeller comes apart, and their course is turned westward once again at a speed of about sixty miles per hour. Although they manage to fix this problem, the men by

this time can already see Ireland's Cape Clear to the north as they speed out of sight from land.

Ainsworth suddenly suggests that they should ride these fierce wind currents, rather than fighting against them, to see if they can fly to North America. The other men think this is a great idea, except for the seamen whose fears are nullified by the others' enthusiasm. They lighten the load by throwing out some ballasts and steer the rudder directly westward, raising the guide rope as well away from the ocean. With this combination of actions, the balloon sped up quickly with the remaining rope sticking straight out behind them. Below, many ships are sailing upon the Atlantic Ocean, and some fire their guns in salute to this balloon they can see speeding across the sky above them, and this revelry continues until night falls and the balloon travels in darkness. Ainsworth then adds his own postscript to the journal entry, "The waters give up no voice to the heavens. The immense flaming ocean writhes and is tortured uncomplainingly. The mountainous surges suggest the idea of innumerable dumb gigantic fiends struggling in impotent agony. In a night such as is this to me, a man lives--lives a whole century of ordinary life -- nor would I forego this rapturous delight for that of a whole century of ordinary existence" Poe, pg. 222. Once again, the details are vivid and extreme, describing the compassion that this one man feels as he floats far above the Earth.

Mason's journal entry for Sunday the 7th day of April adds that the propeller has been very helpful in speeding and steering them along with the wind, and the balloon is now at a height of about five miles above the sea, confident that they will make it to North America. He refers to the Atlantic as "this small pond," because they feel so much more stronger than the sea as they soar above, uninhibited and free. Ainsworth adds that he is stunned to have not experienced any difficulty at breathing even though they are at an altitude as high as Mount Cotopaxi. The sky appears to be black, and they can see the stars even though it is daytime, because their balloon is so high in th air, and the sea below them appears to be concave, or curving inward. Poe then lapses into an elaborate mathematical explanation in an editor's note, basically attributing this distorted perception to be the result of the balloon's extreme height in the air. On the third and final day of the trip, Monday April 8th, Mason writes that their propeller has come undone yet again, and now they are at the mercy of the wind. Also they threw more message bottles down to ships in the sea far below. Ainsworth writes that he is exhausted and has to go to sleep, since he has not done so for two whole days. Finally, Mason's entry for one o'clock in the afternoon on Tuesday the seventh of April declares that South Carolina is within their sight, and they have obtained the goal of reaching North America from Great Britain.

Mr. Forsyth has included the final details of the landing, reported verbally to him by Ainsworth. Osborne apparently recognized Sullivan's Island and declared that they should land the balloon there, near Fort Moultrie. When the balloon floated over the bach, which showed lots of exposed sand due to the low tide, they dropped a hook to the earth, which stopped the balloon's movement immediately. Residents ran forth to meet the balloon, as the occupants deflated the balloon and descended

from it. The current plans of these eight adventurers is not yet known, but the article promises to report these details within a couple days. It ends by applauding this journey once again, "This is unquestionably the most stupendous, the most interesting, and the most important undertaking ever accomplished or even attempted by man. What magnificent events may ensue, it would be useless now to think of determining" Poe, pg. 225. With the ending of this tale, one may recall again Poe's initial smugness at how easily everyone had believed the events of this story to be facts. Underpinning these closing lines, "What magnificent events may ensue..." one can sense the voice of sarcasm and mockery that occasionally characterizes Poe's writing. Indeed, it was the New York Sun that had wanted to outdo its competing newspapers with this "breaking news," but in the end it was Edgar Allan Poe who had beaten them all with his fictitious and infamous tale of "The Balloon-Hoax."

Berenice

.......Earth is a place of misery and wretchedness, says the narrator, Egaeus (pronounced E je ihs), the scion of a wealthy and influential family. He lives in a mansion hung with tapestries and paintings. Egaeus was born in the library of the mansion and his mother died there. 

.......Egaeus says he has lived before.

.......In his childhood, he read many books and spent many a moment simply daydreaming. He grew up with his cousin, Berenice (pronounced BARE uh NICE e). "Yet differently we grew, the narrator says, "—I, ill of health, and buried in gloom—she, agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers, the ramble on the hill-side—mine the studies of the cloister; I, living within my own heart, and addicted, body and soul, to the most intense and painful meditation—she, roaming carelessly through life, with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours.” .......The narrator thinks now of her as she was in her days of joy: “Oh, gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh, sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! Oh, Naiad among its fountains!” The narrator recounts past events as follows: .......A fatal disease overtakes Berenice and works a profound change in her, “disturbing even the identity of her person.” Among the many manifestations of the disease is a type of epilepsy that often ends in a trance resembling catalepsy. The trance may last awhile, but her recovery from it is usually abrupt. .......Meanwhile, the narrator develops his own disease, characterized by a monomaniacal interest in “the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.” For example, he spends hours looking at the typography in a book or at a shadow on a tapestry. At times, he even spends an entire night watching the flame of a lamp or an entire day contemplating the perfume of a flower. Once, he spent many weeks investigating the meaning of a single sentence in a book by Tertullian. .......Oddly, however, he does not devote the same intensity of concentration and

meditation on the cause of Berenice’s malady. But he says he does consider at length "startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice—in the singular and most appalling distortion of her personal identity." .......Although Berenice is extraordinarily beautiful, the narrator does not love her. Nevertheless, her image often invades his thoughts, in which he sees her "not as the living and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream; not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the abstraction of such a being; not as a thing to admire, but to analyze; not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation.” .......Her sickly presence unnerves him. Whenever she approaches him, he becomes pale. However, considering that she has loved him for a long time, he asks her “in an evil moment” to marry him. .......One winter afternoon as the day of the wedding approaches, Egaeus is in the library of his mansion when Berenice enters and stands before him. When he looks up and sees her, he says, “An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me.” For she is so emaciated that she does not at all resemble her former self. She is very pale, her once-black hair is yellow, and her eyes are “lifeless and lustreless.” And her teeth? “Would to God that I had never beheld them," he says, "or that, having done so, I had died!”  .......In a moment, she leaves the room, but the image of her teeth remains with him. They are long and narrow and incredibly white, with “pale lips writhing about them.” Afterward, all he can think about is those teeth. They become an obsession blocking out all other thoughts. By and by, he realizes that the only way to gain peace of mind is to possess the teeth. As he sits in his chair in the library, day becomes night, then night becomes day. And when the second night arrives, he is still sitting there concentrating on the “phantasma of the teeth.” He remains in the library through the night.  .......Suddenly, he hears a loud cry followed by “the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow or of pain.”  When Egaeus leaves the library to investigate, he sees a housemaid in tears who tells him that apparently an epileptic fit had killed Berenice. That evening, after Berenice is buried, Egaeus is again sitting in the library. It is midnight. He has trouble remembering what has happened since her interment. But he knows it is something horrible.  .......“I had done a deed–what was it?”  .......On a table nearby, next to a burning lamp, is a box that he had seen often. It belongs to the family doctor. He does not know why its presence unnerves him. A servant tiptoes into the library. He is frightened, and he tells Egaeus in a shaky voice that a loud cry has awakened the household. Then he whispers about “a violated grave—of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing—still palpitating—still alive!” .......He points to muddy garments clotted with blood and to a spade against the wall. Suddenly Egaeus jumps up, shrieking, and goes to the table. There he picks up the box and tries to open it, but it falls to the floor and breaks open. “[T]here rolled out some instruments of dental surgery," Egaeus says, "intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the floor.”

The Black Cat

The story is presented as a first-person narrative using an unreliable narrator. He is a condemned man at the outset of the story.[2] The narrator tells us that from an early age he has loved animals. He and his wife have many pets, including a large black cat named Pluto. This cat is especially fond of the narrator and vice versa. Their mutual friendship lasts for several years, until the narrator becomes an alcoholic. One night, after coming home intoxicated, he believes the cat is avoiding him. When he tries to seize it, the panicked cat bites the narrator, and in a fit of rage, he seizes the animal, pulls a pen-knife from his pocket, and deliberately gouges out the cat's eye.

From that moment onward, the cat flees in terror at his master's approach. At first, the narrator is remorseful and regrets his cruelty. "But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of perverseness." He takes the cat out in the garden one morning and hangs it from a tree, where it dies. That very night, his house mysteriously catches fire, forcing the narrator, his wife and their servant to flee.

The next day, the narrator returns to the ruins of his home to find, imprinted on the single wall that survived the fire, the figure of a gigantic cat, hanging by its neck from a rope.

At first, this image terrifies the narrator, but gradually he determines a logical explanation for it, that someone outside had thrown the dead cat into the bedroom to wake him up during the fire, and begins to miss Pluto. Some time later, he finds a similar cat in a tavern. It is the same size and color as the original and is even missing an eye. The only difference is a large white patch on the animal's chest. The narrator takes it home, but soon begins to loathe, even fear the creature. After a time, the white patch of fur begins to take shape and, to the narrator, forms the shape of the gallows.

Then, one day when the narrator and his wife are visiting the cellar in their new home, the cat gets under its master's feet and nearly trips him down the stairs. In a fury, the man grabs an axe and tries to kill the cat but is stopped by his wife. Enraged, he kills her with the axe instead. To conceal her body he removes bricks from a protrusion in the wall, places her body there, and repairs the hole. A few days later, when the police show up at the house to investigate the wife's disappearance, they find nothing and the narrator goes free. The cat, which he intended to kill as well, has also gone missing.

On the last day of the investigation, the narrator accompanies the police into the cellar. They still find nothing. Then, completely confident in his own safety, the narrator comments on the sturdiness of the building and raps upon the wall he had built around his wife's body. A wailing sound fills the room. The alarmed police tear down the wall and find the wife's corpse, and on her head, to the horror of the

narrator, is the screeching black cat. As he words it: "I had walled the monster up within the tomb!".

Bon-Bon

Pierre Bon-Bon is a well-known French restaurant owner and chef, known both for his omelettes and for his metaphysical philosophies. The narrator describes him as profound and a man of genius, as even the man's cat knew. Bon-Bon, who has "an inclination for the bottle", is drinking on a snowy winter night around midnight when he hears a voice. He recognizes it as the devil himself, appearing in a black suit in the style of the previous century, though it was a bit too small for him. He wore green spectacles, had a stylus behind one ear, and a large black book in his breast-pocket. Bon-Bon shook his hand and offered him a seat.

The two engage in conversation, Bon-Bon pressing the devil for a philosophical exchange. He hoped to "elicit some important ethical ideas" which Bon-Bon could publish and make himself famous. Bon-Bon learns that the devil has never had eyes but the devil is convinced his vision is better and "more penetrating" than Bon-Bon's. In fact, the devil reveals he can see the thoughts of others and, as he puts it, "my vision is the soul."

The two share several bottles of wine until Bon-Bon cannot speak without hiccuping. The devil explains how he eats souls and gives a long list of famous philosophers he has "eaten" as well as his assessment of how each tasted. When Bon-Bon suggests that his own soul is qualified for a stew or soufflé, Bon-Bon offers it to his visitor. The devil refusing, says he could not take advantage of the man's "disgusting and ungentlemanly" drunken state. As the devil leaves, Bon-Bon in his disappointment tries to throw a bottle at him. Before he can, however, the lamp above his head comes loose and hits him on the head, knocking him out.

Bon-Bon 2

“Bon-Bon” is about Pierre Bon-Bon, a French philosopher/cook, who has a conversation with the devil. “Bon-Bon” was published at least three times, once in the Philadelphia Saturday Courier, once in the Southern Literary Messenger, and once in his book Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque.

An unnamed narrator begins with some descriptions of Pierre. It is obvious that he thinks very highly of Pierre. He says that Pierre “was a restaurateur of uncommon qualifications [and that he] was, in an equal degree, skilled in the philosophy of that period…”

We also learn that Pierre is his own philosopher, and that he did not strictly follow anyone else’s school of thought. He “was emphatically a—Bon-Bonist.” Pierre also has a habit of never allowing an opportunity to make a bargain pass him by. But of course “[t]he philosopher had other weaknesses…” primarily “an inclination for the bottle.”

It was this inclination that seemingly ruined his chance for the bargain of his life. One dark and stormy night (as the saying goes) Pierre was alont in his restaurant (which was also his apartment) “retouching a voluminous manuscript, intended for publication on the morrow” and drinking when he suddenly heard a voice from the corner of his apartment.

“ ‘The devil!’ ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet” The answer?

“Very true.”

The ensuing conversation between Pierre and the devil is about ancient Greek philosophers and their souls, and how wonderful they taste. The devil reveals that he makes deals with philosophers and then eats their souls, which they are conveniently not using. He brags about the many different souls he has tasted (Cratinus, Aristophanes, Plato, Plautos, Lucilius), and how good or bad they tasted.

During the conversation both the devil and Pierre are drinking wine, and by the end, they have consumed three bottles together. Pierre begins to hiccup during every sentence, and ends up offering “His Majesty” his own soul. The devil declines because of the “disgusting and ungentlemanly” state Pierre was in. As the devil is leaving Pierre starts to throw the fourth bottle of wine at him, but the chandelier breaks and falls on Pierre’s head, knocking him out, before he can throw the bottle.

The Business Man

The narrator of the story is Peter Proffit, a "methodical" businessman by his own admission. He says a nurse swung him around when he was a young boy, and he bumped his head against a bedpost. That single event determined his fate: the resulting bump was in the area dedicated to system and regularity, according to phrenology.

Proffit goes on to say that he despises geniuses and that they are all asses — "the greater the genius the greater the ass." Geniuses can not, he says, be turned into men of business.

At the age of fourteen, his father forced him to work as a merchant, which Proffit could not stand. He says that though most boys run away from home at the age of twelve, he chose to wait until the age of sixteen. What finally convinced him was his mother's suggestion that he work as a grocer. Instead, he becomes a "Walking-Advertisement" for a tailor. Feeling swindled by his employer over a penny, however, he moves on to start his own business. Proffit's new business is the "Eye-Sore" business. When he sees a large home or palace being built, he buys a nearby or adjoining property and builds a "mud-hovel" or "pig-sty" so ugly that he is paid 500% the value of the lot to tear it down. One owner, however, offers less than 500%. In retaliation, Proffit lamp-blacks the house overnight. For this, he is put in jail and is ostracized by others in the Eye-Sore business. Proffit then enters

the Assault-and-Battery business. He makes money by starting fights with people on the streets and then sues them for attacking him. He then becomes involved with "Mud-Dabbling", forcing people to pay him not to splash them with mud. He also has a dog rub up against people's shoes to make them dirty, then offers his services as a shoeshiner. Though he gave the dog a third of the profits, the routine split when the dog began to demand half. Proffit then becomes an organ grinder, though he makes money by people paying him to stop rather than to play. He boasts of his own abilities in business and lists his eight "speculations" for success. He then tries forging letters and delivering them to rich people, asking them to pay postage themselves. He says, however, that he had moral issues with this line of work after hearing people say unkind things about the fake people who had written to them. A law is later passed to keep down the population of cats, with citizens paid for any cat tails they turn in. Proffit begins to raise cats so that he can collect the reward for their tails. It was his most profitable venture. After all his business ventures, he considers himself "a made man" and is considering running for office -- or, more accurately, purchasing a seat in county government.

The Cask of Amontillado

Montressor tells the story of the day that he took his revenge on Fortunato, a fellow nobleman, to an unspecified person who knows him very well. Angry over some unspecified insult, he plots to murder his friend during Carnival when the man is drunk, dizzy, and wearing a jester's motley. He baits Fortunato by telling him he has obtained what he believes to be a pipe (about 130 gallons,[1] 492 litres) of a rare vintage of Amontillado. He claims he wants his friend's expert opinion on the subject. Fortunato goes with Montresor to the wine cellars of the latter's palazzo, where they wander in the catacombs. Montresor offers wine (first Medoc, then De Grave) to Fortunato. At one point, Fortunato makes an elaborate, grotesque gesture with an upraised wine bottle. When Montresor appears not to recognize the gesture, Fortunato asks, "You are not of the masons?"

Montresor says he is, and when Fortunato, disbelieving, requests a sign, Montresor displays a trowel he had been hiding.

Montresor warns Fortunato, who has a bad cough, of the damp, and suggests they go back; Fortunato insists on continuing, claiming that "[he] shall not die of a cough." During their walk, Montresor mentions his family coat of arms: a golden foot in a blue background crushing a snake whose fangs are embedded in the foot's heel, with the motto Nemo me impune lacessit ("No one insults me with impunity"). When they come to a niche, Montresor tells his victim that the Amontillado is within. Fortunato enters and, drunk and unsuspecting, does not resist as Montresor quickly chains him to the wall. Montresor then declares that, since Fortunato won't go back, he must "positively leave".

Montresor walls up the niche, entombing his friend alive. At first, Fortunato, who sobers up faster than Montresor anticipated he would, shakes the chains, trying to escape. Fortunato then screams for help, but Montresor mocks his cries, knowing

nobody can hear them. Fortunato laughs weakly and tries to pretend that he is the subject of a joke and that people will be waiting for him (including the Lady Fortunato). As the murderer finishes the topmost row of stones, Fortunato wails, "For the love of God, Montresor!" Montresor replies, "Yes, for the love of God!" He listens for a reply but hears only the jester's bells ringing. Before placing the last stone, he drops a burning torch through the gap. He claims that he feels sick at heart, but dismisses this reaction as an effect of the dampness of the catacombs.

In the last few sentences, Montresor reveals that in the 50 years since that night, he has never been caught, and Fortunato's body still hangs from its chains in the niche where he left it. The murderer concludes: Requiescat In Pace! ("May he rest in peace!").

The Colloquy of Monos and Una

The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion

Two people, who have been renamed Eiros and Charmion after death, discuss the manner in which the world ended. Eiros, who died in the apocalypse, explains the circumstances to Charmion, who died ten years previously. A new comet is detected in the Solar System, and as it approaches the Earth, people experience in turn exhilaration, then pain and delirium. The cause is discovered to be the loss of nitrogen from the atmosphere, leaving pure oxygen, which finally bursts into flame when the comet nucleus hits.

A Descent into the Maelström

After reaching the summit of the fictional Mount Helseggen the Cloudy in Norway, the old man tells the narrator about an event that once occurred on the mountain that unnerved him and weakened his limbs (although the narrator points out that despite the old man's protestations of frailty, he nevertheless lies casually next to a huge cliff that terrifies the narrator). The old man wishes to tell the narrator the story from a good vantage point and asks him to look beyond the clouds into the sea, which the narrator timidly does. The desolate ocean has several craggy islands, and the old man names them before pointing out an unusual change in the water. The narrator hears a roar from the sea, which evinces a furious current that shapes the smaller whirlpools of the water into a huge mile-long funnel. He recognizes it as "the great whirlpool of the Maelström," which the old man terms the Moskoe-ström after the name of the island in the middle.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

The narrator offers Jonas Ramus's description of the Maelström while acknowledging that it does not sufficiently describe the power of the vortex.

According to Ramus, between the shore and Moskoe, the depth of the water is thirty-six to forty fathoms, but from Moskoe to the distant island of Vurrgh, the water is too deep and the rocks too dangerous for the safe passage of a ship. Whenever a ship comes within a mile of the full force , it is carried to the bottom and slammed against the rocks until the Maelström ceases. The narrator points out that the depth in the center of the Maelström is probably much greater than forty fathoms, and he is unsatisfied by accounts that describe the phenomenon as the result of water colliding in a circular motion in a flood, while being drawn to more fantastic explanations that call the center the entrance to the abyss in the middle of the Earth. The guide, however, disagrees, and the narrator concurs in that the size of the abyss defies understanding.

The old man has the narrator protect himself from the deafening sound of the water and begins to tell the narrator of his own experience with the Maelström in his younger days. In his story, he and his two brothers own a boat and are the only ones brave enough to fish among the islands. The business is lucrative but dangerous, and they are very careful to watch the water, although occasionally they are driven out to sea and only come back through luck. They have always successfully navigated the Maelström but never allow their sons to come on the trip.

One day in July, a terrible hurricane arrives without warning. The man and his brothers had come at the islands around two in the afternoon and begin their return at seven, knowing that the Maelström will be still at eight. The breeze picks up, causing the man to feel worried, and when the breeze leaves, the hurricane arrives, tearing away the masts as well as his younger brother, who has tied himself to a mast for safety. The man and his older brother manage to survive despite being temporarily submerged in the water. Unfortunately, by the time the boat recovers and floats back to the surface, they are caught by the Maelström, and they sense their doom.

The moon lights up the sky so that they can see each other, although they cannot hear each other above the noise, and the elder brother signals to the man, making the latter realize that the watch ran down at seven and that they have missed the time of calmness in the Ström. Now, it is reaching full strength. The ship rides the waves into the air, and he sees that the whirlpool is particularly strong. The waves subside into foam, and the man becomes calm in his despair, thinking of how magnificent it will be to die this way and awaiting his exploration of the Maelström's depths, even if it is at the cost of his life. He is also calmed by the cessation of the wind as they circulate in the pool. His brother tries to let go of his hold on a water-cask and join him in the insanity of his fright, so the man lets his brother have it and takes the cask, at which point the ship lurches and begins to head downward.

The man closes his eyes and waits for his death but eventually opens his eyes and sees that his boat is hanging in the black walls of the Maelström, and the force of the boat's whirling pins him to the boat. He sees a rainbow in the abyss, caused by the movement of the water, and as they slowly spiral downward, the man observes

the wreckage that swirls around him. After some time, an idea occurs to him as he observes that small shapes and cylinders seem to descend most slowly into the abyss. He lashes himself to the water cask and cuts himself loose, signaling to his brother to seek nearby barrels. However, his brother refuses to move, so he resigns his brother to his fate and detaches the cask from the boat.

As the man had hoped, the cask sinks much slower than the boat that holds his unlucky brother. By the time it sinks half of the distance between its moment of detachment from the boat and the center of the abyss, the funnel of the Maelström has become calm. The man finds himself on the surface, and during the hour in which the Maelström is still, the waves from the hurricane wash him into the channel, where a boat picks him up. He has been saved, but, as he tells the narrator, his black hair has turned white and his face has rapidly aged, although he does not expect the narrator to believe his tale.

The Devil in the Belfry

¿Qué hora es?(Antiguo adagio)

Todo el mundo sabe, de una manera general, que el lugar más hermoso del mundo es —o era, ¡ay!— la villa holandesa de Vondervotteimittiss. Sin embargo, como queda a alguna distancia de cualquiera de los caminos principales, en una situación en cierto modo extraordinaria, quizá muy pocos de mis lectores la hayan visitado. Para estos últimos convendrá que sea algo prolijo al respecto. Y ello es en verdad tanto más necesario cuanto que si me propongo hacer aquí una historia de los calamitosos sucesos que han ocurrido recientemente dentro de sus límites, lo hago con la esperanza de atraer la simpatía pública en favor de sus habitantes. Ninguno de quienes me conocen dudará de que el deber que me impongo será cumplido en la medida de mis posibilidades, con toda esa rígida imparcialidad, ese cauto examen de los hechos y esa diligente cita de autoridades que deben distinguir siempre a quien aspira al título de historiador.Gracias a la ayuda conjunta de medallas, manuscritos e inscripciones estoy capacitado para decir, positivamente, que la villa de Vondervotteimittiss ha existido, desde su origen, en la misma exacta condición que aún hoy conserva. De la fecha de su origen, sin embargo, me temo que sólo hablaré con esa especie de indefinida precisión que los matemáticos se ven a veces obligados a tolerar en ciertas fórmulas algebraicas. La fecha, puedo decirlo, teniendo en cuenta su remota antigüedad, no ha de ser menor que cualquier cantidad determinable.Con respecto a la etimología del nombre Vondervotteimittiss, me confieso, con pena, en la misma falta. Entre multitud de opiniones sobre este delicado punto —algunas agudas, algunas eruditas, algunas todo lo contrario— soy incapaz de elegir ninguna que pueda considerarse satisfactoria. Quizá la idea de Grogswigg —que casi coincide con la de Kroutaplenttey— deba ser prudentemente preferida. Es la siguiente: Vondervotteimittiss —Vonder, lege Donder— Votteimittiss, quasi und Bleitziz —Bleitziz obsol: pro Blitzen. Esta etimología, a decir verdad, se halla confirmada por algunas huellas de fluido eléctrico manifiestas en lo alto del

campanario del edificio de la Municipalidad. No deseo, sin embargo, pronunciarme en tema de semejante importancia, y debo remitir al lector deseoso de información a las Oratiunculae de Rebus Praeter-Veteris, de Dundergutz. Véase también, Blunderbuzzard, De Derivationibus, págs. 27 a 5.010, in folio, edición gótica, caracteres rojos y blancos, con reclamos y sin iniciales, donde pueden consultarse también las notas marginales autógrafas de Stuffundpuff y los comentarios de Gruntundguzzell.No obstante la oscuridad que envuelve la fecha de la fundación de Vondervotteimittiss y la etimología de su nombre, no cabe duda, como dije antes, de que siempre existió como lo vemos actualmente. El hombre más viejo de la villa no recuerda la menor diferencia en el aspecto de cualquier parte de la misma, y, a decir verdad, la sola insinuación de semejante posibilidad es considerada un insulto. La aldea está situada en un valle perfectamente circular, de un cuarto de milla de circunferencia, aproximadamente, rodeado por encantadoras colinas cuyas cimas sus habitantes nunca osaron pasar. Lo justifican con la excelente razón de que no creen que haya absolutamente nada del otro lado.En torno a la orilla del valle (que es muy uniforme y pavimentado de baldosas chatas) se extiende una hilera continua de sesenta casitas. De espaldas a las colinas, miran, claro está, al centro de la llanura que queda justo a sesenta yardas de la puerta de cada una. Cada casa tiene un jardinillo delante, con un sendero circular, un cuadrante solar y veinticuatro repollos. Los edificios mismos son tan exactamente parecidos que es imposible distinguir uno de otro. A causa de su gran antigüedad el estilo arquitectónico es algo extraño, pero no por ello menos notablemente pintoresco. Están construidos con pequeños ladrillos endurecidos a fuego, rojos, con los extremos negros, de manera que las paredes semejan un tablero de ajedrez de gran tamaño. Los gabletes miran al frente y hay cornisas, tan grandes como todo el resto de la casa, sobre los aleros y las puertas principales. Las ventanas son estrechas y profundas, con vidrios muy pequeños y grandes marcos. Los tejados están cubiertos de abundantes tejas de grandes bordes acanalados. El maderaje es todo de color oscuro, muy tallado, pero pobre en la variedad del diseño, pues desde tiempo inmemorial los tallistas de Vondervotteimittiss sólo han sabido tallar dos objetos: el reloj y el repollo. Pero lo hacen admirablemente bien y los prodigan con singular ingenio allí donde encuentran espacio para la gubia.Las casas son tan semejantes por dentro como por fuera, y el moblaje responde a un solo modelo. Los pisos son de baldosas cuadradas, las sillas y mesas de madera negra con patas finas y retorcidas, adelgazadas en la punta. Las chimeneas son anchas y altas, y tienen no sólo relojes y repollos esculpidos en el frente, sino un verdadero reloj que hace un prodigioso tic-tac, en el centro de la repisa, y en cada extremo un florero con un repollo que sobresale a manera de batidor. Entre cada repollo y el reloj hay un hombrecillo de porcelana con una gran barriga, y en ella un agujero a través del cual se ve el cuadrante de un reloj.Los hogares son amplios y profundos, con morillos de aspecto retorcido y agresivo. Allí arde constantemente el fuego sobre el cual pende un enorme pote lleno de repollo agrio y carne de cerdo, que una buena mujer de la casa vigila continuamente. Es una anciana pequeña y gruesa, de ojos azules y cara roja, y usa un gran bonete como un terrón de azúcar, adornado de cintas purpúreas y

amarillas. El vestido es de una basta mezcla de lana y algodón de color naranja, muy amplio por detrás y muy corto de talle, a decir verdad muy corto en otras partes, pues no baja de la mitad de la pierna. Las piernas son un poco gruesas, lo mismo que los tobillos, pero lleva un bonito par de calcetines verdes que se las cubren. Los zapatos, de cuero rosado, se atan con un lazo de cinta amarilla que se abre en forma de repollo. En la mano izquierda lleva un pequeño reloj holandés; en la derecha empuña un cucharón para el repollo agrio y el cerdo. Tiene a su lado un gordo gato mosqueado, con un reloj de juguete atado a la cola que «los muchachos» le han puesto por bromear.En cuanto a los muchachos, están los tres en el jardín cuidando el cerdo. Tienen cada uno dos pies de altura. Usan sombrero de tres puntas, chaleco color púrpura que les llega hasta los muslos, calzones de piel de ante, calcetines rojos de lana, pesados zapatos con hebilla de plata y largos levitones con grandes botones de nácar. Cada uno de ellos tiene, además, una pipa en la boca y en la mano derecha un pequeño reloj protuberante. Una bocanada de humo y un vistazo, un vistazo y una bocanada de humo. El cerdo, que es corpulento y perezoso, se ocupa ya de recoger las hojas que caen de los repollos, ya de dar una coz al reloj dorado que los pillos le han atado también a la cola para ponerle tan elegante como al gato.Justo delante de la puerta de entrada, en un sillón de alto respaldo y asiento de cuero, con patas retorcidas de puntas finas como las mesas, está sentado el viejo dueño de la casa en persona. Es un anciano pequeño e hinchado, de grandes ojos redondos y doble papada enorme. Sus ropas se parecen a las de los muchachos, y no necesito decir nada más al respecto. Toda la diferencia reside en que su pipa es un poco más grande que la de aquéllos y puede aspirar una bocanada mayor. Como ellos, usa reloj, pero lo lleva en el bolsillo. A decir verdad, tiene que cuidar algo más importante que un reloj, y he de explicar ahora de qué se trata. Se sienta con la pierna derecha sobre la rodilla izquierda, muestra un grave continente y mantiene, por lo menos, uno de sus ojos resueltamente clavado en cierto objeto notable que se halla en el centro de la llanura.Este objeto está situado en el campanario del edificio de la Municipalidad. Los miembros del Consejo Municipal son todos muy pequeños, redondos, grasos, inteligentes, con grandes ojos como platos y gordo doble mentón, y usan levitones mucho más largos y las hebillas de los zapatos mucho más grandes que los habitantes comunes de Vondervotteimittiss. Desde que vivo en la villa han tenido varias sesiones especiales y han adoptado estas tres importantes resoluciones:«Que está mal cambiar la vieja y buena marcha de las cosas.»«Que no hay nada tolerable fuera de Vondervotteimittiss», y«Que seremos fieles a nuestros relojes y a nuestros repollos.»Sobre la sala de sesiones del Consejo se encuentra la torre, y en la torre el campanario, donde existe y ha existido, desde tiempos inmemoriales, el orgullo y maravilla del pueblo: el gran reloj de la villa de Vondervotteimittiss. Y a este objeto se dirige la mirada de los viejos señores sentados en los sillones con asiento de cuero.El gran reloj tiene siete cuadrantes, uno a cada lado de la torre, de modo que se lo puede ver fácilmente desde todos los ángulos. Sus cuadrantes son grandes y blancos, las agujas pesadas y negras. Hay un campanero cuya única obligación

es cuidarlo; pero esta obligación es la más perfecta de las sinecuras, pues jamás se ha sabido hasta hoy que el reloj de Vondervotteimittiss haya necesitado nada de él. Hasta hace poco tiempo, la simple suposición de semejante cosa era considerada herética. Desde el más remoto período de la antigüedad al cual hacen referencia los archivos, la gran campana ha dado regularmente la hora. Y a decir verdad, lo mismo ocurría con todos los otros relojes grandes y chicos de la villa. Nunca hubo otro lugar semejante para saber la hora exacta. Cuando el gran badajo consideraba oportuno decir: «¡Las doce!», todos sus obedientes seguidores abrían la boca simultáneamente y respondían como un verdadero eco. En una palabra: los buenos burgueses eran aficionados a su repollo agrio, pero estaban orgullosos de sus relojes.Todas las gentes que poseen sinecuras son más o menos respetadas, y como el campanero de Vondervotteimittiss tiene la más perfecta de las sinecuras, es el más perfectamente respetado de todos los hombres del mundo. Es el principal dignatario de la villa, y los mismos cerdos lo miran con un sentimiento de reverencia. Los faldones de su levita son mucho más largos; su pipa, las hebillas de sus zapatos, sus ojos y su barriga, mucho más, grandes que los de cualquier otro señor del pueblo; y, en cuanto a su papada, no sólo es doble, sino triple.Acabo de pintar la feliz condición de Vondervotteimittiss. ¡Lástima que tan hermoso cuadro tuviera que sufrir un cambio!Era un viejo dicho de los más prudentes habitantes que «nada bueno puede venir del otro lado de las colinas»; y en verdad parece que las palabras tuvieron algo de proféticas. Faltaban anteayer cinco minutos para mediodía cuando apareció un objeto de aspecto muy extraño en lo alto de la colina del este. Semejante suceso atrajo, por supuesto, la atención universal, y cada pequeño señor sentado en un sillón con asiento de cuero volvió uno de sus ojos con asombrada consternación hacia el fenómeno, mientras mantenía el otro en el reloj de la torre.En el momento en que faltaban sólo tres minutos para mediodía se advirtió que el singular objeto en cuestión era un joven muy diminuto con aire de extranjero. Descendía las colinas a gran velocidad, de modo que todos tuvieron pronto oportunidad de mirarlo bien. Era en verdad el personaje más precioso y más pequeño que jamás se hubiera visto en Vondervotteimittiss. Su rostro mostraba un oscuro color tabaco y tenía una larga nariz ganchuda, ojos como guisantes, una gran boca y una excelente hilera de dientes que parecía deseoso de mostrar sonriendo de oreja a oreja. Entre los bigotes y las patillas no quedaba nada del resto de su cara por ver. Llevaba la cabeza descubierta y el pelo cuidadosamente rizado con papillotes. Constituía su traje una levita de faldones puntiagudos, de uno de cuyos bolsillos colgaba la larga punta de un pañuelo blanco, pantalones de casimir negro, medias negras y escarpines de punta mocha con grandes lazos de cinta de satén negra. Bajo un brazo llevaba un gran chapeau-de-bras y bajo el otro un violín casi cinco veces más grande que él. En la mano izquierda tenía una tabaquera de oro de la cual, mientras bajaba la colina haciendo cabriolas y toda clase de piruetas fantásticas, aspiraba incesantemente tabaco con el aire más satisfecho del mundo. ¡Santo Dios! ¡Qué espectáculo para los honestos burgueses de Vondervotteimittiss!Hablando francamente el individuo tenía, a pesar de su sonrisa, un aire audaz y siniestro, y mientras corcoveaba derecho hacia la villa, el viejo aspecto de sus

escarpines mochos despertó no pocas sospechas, y más de un burgués que lo miraba aquel día hubiera dado algo por atisbar debajo del pañuelo de algodón blanco que colgaba tan importunamente del bolsillo de su levita puntiaguda. Pero lo que provocaba justa indignación era que el picaro galancete, mientras daba aquí un paso de fandango, allí una vuelta, no parecía tener la más remota idea de eso que se llama guardar el compás.Las buenas gentes del pueblo apenas habían tenido tiempo de abrir por completo los ojos cuando, faltando medio minuto para mediodía, el bribón se plantó de un salto en medio de ellos, hizo un chassez aquí, un balancez allá y luego, después de una pirouette y de un pas-de-zephyr, subió como en un vuelo hasta el campanario del edificio de la Municipalidad, donde el campanero, estupefacto, fumaba con expresión de dignidad y espanto. Pero el pequeño personaje lo tomó de inmediato por la nariz, lo sacudió y lo empujó, le encajó el gran chapeau-de-bras en la cabeza, se lo hundió hasta la boca y entonces, enarbolando el violín, lo golpeó tanto y con tanta fuerza que entre el campanero tan gordo y el violín tan hueco se hubiera jurado que había un regimiento de tambores redoblando la retreta del diablo en lo alto del campanario de la torre de Vondervotteimittiss.No se sabe qué acto desesperado de venganza hubiera provocado en los habitantes este ataque sin conciencia, de no ser por el importante hecho de que entonces faltaba sólo medio segundo para mediodía. La campana estaba a punto de sonar y era una cuestión de absoluta y suprema necesidad que todos pudieran mirar bien sus relojes. Parecía evidente, sin embargo, que justo en ese momento el individuo de la torre estaba haciendo con el reloj algo que no le correspondía. Pero como empezaba a sonar, nadie tuvo tiempo de atender a sus maniobras, pues estaban todos entregados a contar las campanadas.—¡Una! —dijo el reloj.—¡Uuna! —repitió como un eco cada viejo y pequeño señor en cada sillón con asiento de cuero, en Vondervotteimittiss—. ¡Uuna! —dijo también su reloj—. ¡Una! —dijo también el reloj de su mujer—. ¡Uuna! —los relojes de los muchachos y los pequeños y dorados relojitos de juguete en las colas del gato y el cerdo.—¡Dos! —continuó la gran campana.—¡Tos! —repitieron todos los relojes.—¡Tres! ¡Cuatro! ¡Cinco! ¡Seis! ¡Siete! ¡Ocho! ¡Nueve! ¡Diez! —dijo la campana.—¡Dres! ¡Cuatro! ¡Cingo! ¡Seis! ¡Siete! ¡Ocho! ¡Nuefe! ¡Tiez! —respondieron los otros.—¡Once! —dijo la grande.—¡Once! —asintieron las pequeñas.—¡Doce! —dijo la campana.—¡Toce! —replicaron todos, perfectamente satisfechos, y dejando caer la voz.—¡Y las toce son! —dijeron todos los viejos y pequeños señores, guardando sus relojes. Pero el gran reloj todavía no había terminado con ellos.—¡Trece! —dijo.—¡Der Teufel! —boquearon los viejos y pequeños hombrecitos empalideciendo, dejando caer la pipa y bajando todos la pierna derecha de la rodilla izquierda.—¡Der Teufel! —gimieron—. ¡Drece! ¡Drece! ¡Mein Gott, son las drece!¿Para qué intentar la descripción de la terrible escena que siguió? Todo Vondervotteimittiss se sumió de inmediato en un lamentable estado de confusión.

—¿Qué le pasa a mi fiendre? —gimieron todos los muchachos—. ¡Ya tebo esdar hambriento a esda hora!—¿Qué le pasa a mi rebollo? —chillaron todas las mujeres—. ¡Ya tebe esdar deshecho a esta hora!—¿Qué le pasa a mi biba? —juraron los viejos y pequeños señores—. ¡Druenos y cendellas! —y la llenaron de nuevo con rabia y, reclinándose en los sillones, aspiraron con tanta rapidez y tanta furia que el valle entero se llenó inmediatamente de un humo impenetrable.Entretanto los repollos se pusieron muy rojos y parecía como si el viejo Belcebú en persona se hubiese apoderado de todo lo que tuviera forma de reloj. Los relojes tallados en los muebles empezaron a bailar como embrujados, mientras los de las chimeneas apenas podían contenerse en su furia y se obstinaban en tal forma en dar las trece y en agitar y menear los péndulos, que eran realmente horribles de ver. Pero lo peor de todo es que ni los gatos ni los cerdos podían soportar más la conducta de los relojitos atados a sus colas, y lo demostraban disparando por todas partes, arañando y arremetiendo, gritando y chillando, aullando y berreando, arrojándose a las caras de las gentes, metiéndose debajo de las faldas y creando el más horrible estrépito y la más abominable confusión que una persona razonable pueda concebir. Y el pequeño y desvergonzado bribón de la torre hacía evidentemente todo lo posible para tornar más afligentes las cosas. De vez en cuando podía vérselo a través del humo. Estaba sentado en el campanario sobre el campanero, que yacía tirado de espaldas. El bellaco sujetaba con los dientes la cuerda de la campana y la sacudía continuamente con la cabeza, provocando tal estrépito que me zumban los oídos de sólo pensarlo. Sobre su regazo descansaba el gran violín, y lo rascaba sin ritmo ni compás con las dos manos, haciendo una gran parodia, ¡el badulaque! de «Judy O’Flannagan and Paddy O’Rafferty».Estando las cosas en esa lastimosa situación abandoné el lugar con disgusto, y ahora apelo a todos los amantes de la hora exacta y del buen repollo agrio. Marchemos en masa a la villa y restauremos el antiguo orden de cosas reinante en Vondervotteimittiss, expulsando de la torre al pequeño individuo.

The Domain of Arnheim, or The Landscape Garden

The story is, in brief, Poe acting as our tour guide through the human mind and soul. The unprecedented beauty and serenity of Arnheim--the domain of the soaring eagle--is accessible to each individual who follows the path Poe blazes within the realm of imagination. He states that "in landscape arrangements alone is the physical nature susceptible of imagination." These landscapes, as we see them in nature, are all susceptible to improvement. Ellison explains that "there may be a class of beings, human once, but now invisible to humanity, to whom, from afar, our disorder may seem order--our unpicturesqueness picturesque; in a word, the earth-angels, for whose scrutiny more especially than our own, and for whose death-refined appreciation of the beautiful, may have been set in array by God the wide landscape-gardens of the hemispheres." Man, by improving the arrangements in nature, in a way that "shall convey the idea of care, or culture, or superintendence, on the part of beings superior, yet akin to humanity" can create "nature in the sense of the handiwork of the angels that hover between man and

God." Perfecting these landscapes in our eyes--thus being able to see them as the angels do--brings us closer to these higher beings.

The Duc De L'omelette

The Duke de L’Omelette is about a man who dies and bargains with the devil to get back to life.

The Duke sits down, seemingly to sup on an ortolan, a small European migratory bunting once eaten as a delicacy, and when the bird is brought to him he has a paroxysm because it is not wrapped properly. So he dies.

When he gets to hell, he cannot believe it. The devil tells him to strip, but he responds with “Strip, indeed! very pretty i’[sic] faith! no, sir, I shall not strip. Who are you, pray, that I, Duc De L’Omelett, Prince of Foie-Gras… should divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest pantaloons ever made by Bourdon, the daintiest robe-de-chambre ever put together by

Rombert—to say nothing of the taking my hair out of paper—not to mention the trouble I should have in drawing off my gloves?”

The Duke is absolutely appalled that anyone would ask him to do anything of the sort. The Devil replies: “Who am I?—ah, true! I am Baal-Zebub, Prince of the Fly. I took thee, just now from a rose-wood coffin inlaid with ivory.” He then informs that Duke that the softest pantaloons ever made were actually drawers of linen, and the robe-de-chambre is a shroud.

The Duke “was bowing himself out of the Satanic presence, when he was interrupted and brought back by a gentleman in waiting.” As the Duke begins to look around the chamber he realized that the beautiful music coming through the windows were actually wailings and howlings of the hopelessly damned. The Duke notices that on the table are foils and points. He offers the Devil one, but “Horreur! his Majesty does not fence!”

Instead, the Duke and the devil play a game of cards. The devil looses, and the Duke, as he is leaving, says: If I wasn’t the Duke de L’Omelette, I would have no objection to being the devil.

Eleonora

The story follows an unnamed narrator who lives with his cousin and aunt in "The Valley of the Many-Colored Grass," an idyllic paradise full of fragrant flowers, fantastic trees, and a "River of Silence." It remains untrodden by the footsteps of strangers and so they live isolated but happy.

After living like this for fifteen years, "Love entered" the hearts of the narrator and his cousin Eleonora. The valley reflected the beauty of their young love:

The passion which had for centuries distinguished our race... together breathed a delirious bliss over the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. A change fell upon all things. Strange, brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burst out upon the trees where no flowers had been known before. The tints of the green carpet deepened; and when, one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there sprang up in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. And life arose in our paths; for the tall flamingo, hitherto unseen, with all gay flowing birds, flaunted his scarlet plumage before us.

Eleonora, however, was sick - "made perfect in loveliness only to die." She does not fear death, but fears that the narrator will leave the valley after her death and transfer his love to someone else. The narrator emotionally vows to her, with "the Mighty Ruler of the Universe" as his witness, to never bind himself in marriage "to any daughter on Earth."

After Eleonora's death, however, the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass begins to lose its lustre and warmth. The narrator chooses to leave to an unnamed "strange city." There, he meets a woman named Ermengarde and, without guilt, marries her. Eleonora soon visits the narrator from beyond

the grave and grants her blessings to the couple. "Thou art absolved," she says, "for reasons which shall be made known to thee in Heaven."

ANALISIS

Eleonora, a short story, written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1842 was originally published as The Gift.  The author failed to name the man in the story so we can partly say that this is an autobiography of himself.  It was learned that at the time Poe is writing this story, his wife was ill and that they are living with a cousin.  The story was given a bit of twist and was injected some mystical elements into it.  It is a romantic story which depicts a love that blooms as serene as nature and forces to despise all odds – to even dare go beyond the grave.

The story is about a boy who lived with his cousin and aunt in a place similar to a perfect paradise where one can find foliage of forest trees, fragrant flowers in variety, silent river and a multi-colored grassland.  It is in this very same place where the boy’s love for his cousin named, Eleonora, grew and blossomed into a deeper sense after having been together for fifteen years.

Eleonora is an embodiment of a true and innocent beauty.  Her perfection, though, was short-lived due to an illness.  Faced with the fear of death and being forgotten, she made her lover promise to never leave the place of ‘many-colored grass’ and

to keep his heart only hers.  And promise he did to the Gods and Goddesses.  In turn, she never ceased to make her presence felt.

But change is the only constant thing in this world.  Eleonora’s corporeal absence eloped the once glittering valley with grandeur.  The unnamed boy, now a man, left paradise for some strange city where he was bedazzled by another beauty named Ermengarde.

Ermengarde soon became his wife without the guilt of breaking his promise of forever to Eleonora.  With a final whisper of goodbye, Eleonora grant him absolution for the reason that he loved dearly both women.  Enough for heaven to understand and forgive him.

Love is always forgiving.  It is neither selfish nor impatient.  So never regret loving and forgiving.  Let Eleonora’s undying love guide you through.

The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar

The narrator presents the facts of the extraordinary case of Valdemar which have incited public discussion. He is interested in Mesmerism, apseudoscience involving bringing a patient into a hypnagogic state by the influence of magnetism, a process which later developed into hypnotism. He points out that, as far as he knows, no one has ever been mesmerized at the point of death, and he is curious to see what effects mesmerism would have on a dying person. He considers experimenting on his friend Ernest Valdemar, an author whom he had previously mesmerized, and who has recently been diagnosed with phthisis (tuberculosis).

Valdemar consents to the experiment and informs the narrator by letter that he will probably die in twenty-four hours. Valdemar's two physicians inform the narrator of their patient's poor condition. After confirming again that Valdemar is willing to be part of the experiment, the narrator comes back the next night with two nurses and a medical student as witnesses. Again, Valdemar insists he is willing to take part and asks the narrator to hurry, for fear he has "deferred it for too long". Valdemar is quickly mesmerized, just as the two physicians return and serve as additional witnesses. In a trance, he reports first that he is dying - then that he is dead. The narrator leaves him in a mesmeric state for seven months, checking on him daily. During this time Valdemar is without pulse, heartbeat or perceptible breathing, his skin cold and pale.

Finally, the narrator makes attempts to awaken Valdemar, asking questions which are answered with difficulty as Valdemar's voice emanates from his throat and lolling tongue while his lips and jaws are frozen in death. In between trance and wakefulness, Valdemar begs the narrator to quickly put him back to sleep or to wake him. As Valdemar shouts "Dead! dead!" repeatedly, the narrator takes

Valdemar out of his trance; in the process, Valdemar's entire body immediately decays into a "nearly liquid mass of loathsome—of detestable putrescence."

OTRO

The narrator, who is only given the initial "P.," does not express surprise at the fact that everyone is so interested in the case of M. Valdemar, given the circumstances. Those involved have attempted to keep the affair quiet, but a confused and inaccurate account has nevertheless become public, leading to discussion and disbelief. As a result, the narrator wishes to clear up the facts as well as he can in his own account.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

P. has for the last three years been interested in mesmerism, and nine months ago, he realized that no one has been mesmerized while on the cusp of death. The attempt would determine if such a subject is still susceptible to the magnetic influences of mesmerism, if the magnetic influences are decreased or increased, and if death can be temporarily prevented. P. decides to send a message to his friend M. Ernest Valdemar, a thin person whose white whiskers contrast with his black hair, since the narrator feels that the nervous man would be a good subject for such an experiment. The narrator has previously hypnotized his friend but has never achieved full control, probably, the narrator assumed, due to Valdemar's tuberculosis and declining health. He approaches Valdemar, who excitedly agrees, to the narrator's surprise. Since the doctors are able to predict the time of Valdemar's death, they arrange to meet about twenty-four hours before his predicted death.

When Valdemar sends for P., the latter goes immediately to Valdemar's bedside, where he observes that his friend has become emaciated and his pulse weak, although Valdemar retains his mental faculties and a small amount of physical strength. P. asks Doctors D. and F. to assess the extent of Valdemar's tuberculosis. They describe the damage and predict that he will die at about midnight on Sunday; it is currently seven o'clock on Saturday evening. D. and F. have already said goodbye to Valdemar but agree to come in at ten tomorrow to observe him.

When the doctors leave, the narrator explains the details of the proposed experiment to Valdemar, who is eager to make the attempt. P. decides that having only two nurses as witnesses might not be wise, should something amiss occur, so he decides to wait until eight o'clock on Sunday, when he brings a medical student, Mr. Theodore L., with him to the chamber. L. agrees to take notes, and at about 7:55, P. has Valdemar give his witnessed consent. P. hypnotizes Valdemar but accomplishes little by the time the doctors arrive. They agree that the patient is near death, so P. tries again, altering his technique for fifteen minutes until the patient's heavy breathing quiets. By 10:55, Valdemar is completely mesmerized,

and Dr. D. decides to stay all night with the narrator, Mr. L., and the nurses. Dr. F. promises to return at dawn.

They leave Valdemar alone until three in the morning, and P. sees that Valdemar's body is still rigid and cold but not yet at the point of death. Valdemar's right arm readily follows P.'s commands, which is startling, considering that Valdemar has historically not been very responsive to mesmerism. He asks Valdemar if he is asleep, and after two unsuccessful attempts, Valdemar responds positively and asks P. to let him die without waking. P. asks if he feels pain in his chest, and Valdemar answers negatively and adds that he is dying. P. decides to wait until daybreak, when Dr. F. returns and is surprised that Valdemar is still alive. P. again speaks to Valdemar, who responds on the fourth attempt that he is still asleep but dying.

The doctors agrees that Valdemar should be allowed to die in his current state, since death will probably come in a matter of minutes, but the narrator asks the same question one more time. In response, Valdemar's eyes and mouth open to form a hideous sight, and his body no longer appears alive, but his tongue continues to move. In a harsh, broken voice, Valdemar says that he was sleeping but is now dead. At this, Mr. L. faints, the nurses flee, and everyone that remains silently tries to revive Mr. L., who awakens after an hour. They check on Valdemar, who is not breathing and has no blood flowing from his arm. The narrator can no longer move his body with mesmerism, but the tongue continues to attempt unsuccessfully to answer his queries, and no one but P. can be placed in "mesmeric rapport" with the patient. They find new nurses, and the doctors, Mr. L., and P. leave at ten in the morning.

In the afternoon, everyone returns to see Valdemar in the same condition as before. They decide that awakening Valdemar would lead to his complete death, so they keep him in this condition for seven months and visit him daily. On the Friday prior to the narrator's writing of his account, they attempt to awaken him. P. cannot influence Valdemar's arm but asks him about his feelings and desires; Valdemar answers, "For God's sake!--quick!--quick!--put me to sleep--or, quick!--waken me!--quick!--I say to you that I am dead!" Unsettled, the narrator attempts to awaken him, but the body shouts "dead! dead!" as it disintegrates into a liquid, rotting mass.

The Fall of the House of Usher

The story begins with the unnamed narrator arriving at the house of his friend, Roderick Usher, having received a letter from him in a distant part of the country complaining of an illness and asking for his help. Although Poe wrote this short story before the invention of modern psychological science, Roderick's condition can be described according to its terminology. It includes a form of sensory overload known as hyperesthesia (hypersensitivity to light, sounds, smells, and tastes), hypochondria (an excessive preoccupation or worry about having a serious illness), and acute anxiety. It is revealed that Roderick's twin sister, Madeline, is

also ill and falls into cataleptic, deathlike trances. The narrator is impressed with Roderick's paintings, and attempts to cheer him by reading with him and listening to his improvised musical compositions on the guitar. Roderick sings "The Haunted Palace", then tells the narrator that he believes the house he lives in to be alive, and that this sentience arises from the arrangement of the masonry and vegetation surrounding it.

Roderick later informs the narrator that his sister has died and insists that she be entombed for two weeks in a vault (family tomb) in the house before being permanently buried. The narrator helps Roderick put the body in the tomb, and he notes that Madeline has rosy cheeks, as some do after

death. They inter her, but over the next week both Roderick and the narrator find themselves becoming increasingly agitated for no apparent reason. A storm begins. Roderick comes to the narrator's bedroom, which is situated directly above the vault, and throws open his window to the storm. He notices that the tarn surrounding the house seems to glow in the dark, as it glowed in Roderick Usher's paintings, although there is no lightning.

The narrator attempts to calm Roderick by reading aloud The Mad Tryst, a novel involving a knight named Ethelred who breaks into a hermit's dwelling in an attempt to escape an approaching storm, only to find a palace of gold guarded by a dragon. He also finds hanging on the wall a shield of shining brass on which is written a legend: that the one who slays the dragon wins the shield. With a stroke of his mace, Ethelred kills the dragon, who dies with a piercing shriek, and proceeds to take the shield, which falls to the floor with an unnerving clatter.

As the narrator reads of the knight's forcible entry into the dwelling, cracking and ripping sounds are heard somewhere in the house. When the dragon is described as shrieking as it dies, a shriek is heard, again within the house. As he relates the shield falling from off the wall, a reverberation, metallic and hollow, can be heard. Roderick becomes increasingly hysterical, and eventually exclaims that these sounds are being made by his sister, who was in fact alive when she was entombed and that Roderick Usher knew that she was alive. The bedroom door is then blown open to reveal Madeline standing there. She falls on her brother, and both land on the floor as corpses. The narrator then flees the house, and, as he does so, notices a flash of light causing him to look back upon the House of Usher, in time to watch it break in two, the fragments sinking into the tarn.

Four beasts in one

The interesting thing about this story is that there is no description, only dialogue. Two unknown characters converse about what is happening in the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and thirty. 

The first narrator refers to Biblical and secular history, and attempts to describe an event in the history of Antiochus Epiphanes.

The narrator explains to us where we are (Antiochia Epidaphne) and what the town looks like (in Poe’s time, and in 3830). It is in this way that we are introduced to a second speaker. The first speaker has longer lines, and seems to be much more knowledgeable. The speakers seem to be some sort of angelic or demonic beings, one being more experienced than the other.

The second narrator comments on the amount of animals in the city, and the first narrator explains that they are all trained, or on a leash of some kind.

We soon discover that there is a loud, unruly procession coming through town. “The king has ordered some novel spectacle—some gladiatorial exhibition at the hippodrome—or perhaps the massacre of the Scythian prisoners—of the conflagration of his new palace…” the narrator continues describing other events that might excite such noise, but then we find out that “the king is most likely among the rioters.”

The two narrators hide next to a statue where they can see everything that happens. A young boy passes by, singing a song to the king, in Latin (of course), our first narrator translates for us. He says that “the king is coming in triumph; that he is dressed in state; that he has just finished putting to death, with his own hand, a thousand chained Israelitish prisoners!” (At this time the nation of Israel was constantly being persecuted.)

The narrators wait another minute. Then, the king passes by.

“Who?—where?—the king?—do not behold him—cannot say that I perceive him.” Says the second narrator.

“Then you must be blind.” Replies the first narrator.

“Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous mob of idiots and madmen, who are busy prostrating themselves before a gigantic cameleopard, and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal’s hoofs.”

The gigantic cameleopard turns out to be the king, Antiocus Epiphanes—“Antiochus the madman.”“The single appearance of the cameleopard and the head of a man, has… given offence to the…wild animals domesticated in the city”

They chase the king to the hippodrome, where he barely gets away with his tail, and all the people of Antioch praise him for his superhuman abilities. 

The Gold-Bug

William Legrand becomes obsessed with searching for treasure after being bitten by a scarab-like bug thought to be made of pure gold. He notifies his closest friend,

the narrator, telling him to immediately come visit him at his home on Sullivan's Island in South Carolina. Upon the narrator's arrival, Legrand informs him that they are embarking upon a search for lost treasure along with his African-American servant Jupiter. The narrator has intense doubt and questions whether Legrand, who has recently lost his fortune, has gone insane.

Legrand captured the bug but let someone else borrow it; he draws a picture of the bug instead. The narrator says that the image looks like a skull. Legrand is insulted and inspects his own drawing before stuffing it into a drawer which he locks, to the narrator's confusion. Uncomfortable, the narrator leaves Legrand and returns home to Charleston.

A month later, Jupiter visits the narrator and asks him to return to Sullivan's Island on behalf of his master. Legrand, he says, has been acting strangely. When he arrives, Legrand tells the narrator they must go on an expedition along with the gold-bug tied to a string. Deep in the island's wilderness, they find a tree, which Legrand orders Jupiter to climb with the gold-bug in tow. There, he finds a skull and Legrand tells him to drop the bug through one of the eye sockets. From where it falls, he determines the spot where they dig. They find treasure buried by the infamous pirate "Captain Kidd", estimated by the narrator to be worth a million and a half dollars. Once the treasure is safely secured, the man goes into an elaborate explanation of how he knew about the treasure's location, based on a set of occurrences that happened after the gold bug's discovery. The story involves cryptography with a detailed description of a method for solving a simple substitution cipher using letter frequencies. The cryptogramis:

53‡‡†305))6*;4826)4‡.)4‡);806*;48†8

¶60))85;1‡(;:‡*8†83(88)5*†;46(;88*96

*?;8)*‡(;485);5*†2:*‡(;4956*2(5*—4)8

¶8*;4069285);)6†8)4‡‡;1(‡9;48081;8:8‡

1;48†85;4)485†528806*81(‡9;48;(88;4

(‡?34;48)4‡;161;:188;‡?;

The decoded message is: A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's seat forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the death's-head a bee line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.

(The actual decoded message omits spaces and capitalization)

OTRO

The narrator's friend William Legrand is a poor scion of a formerly wealthy family who leaves New Orleans and travels to Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. The small island is marsh-like and filled with myrtle shrubs, and on the western end of the island lie some small buildings for summer residents. Legrand builds himself a hut within a myrtle thicket on the eastern end. The narrator meets and befriends Legrand here, and he is fascinated by Legrand's intelligence, mood swings, and misanthropy. Legrand enjoys fishing and exploring, and he is always accompanied by his black servant Jupiter, who had been freed by their family but who insists on following and protecting Legrand.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

On a chilly October day, the narrator visits his friend for the first time in several weeks and, finding the inhabitants absent, lets himself in with the hidden key. They arrive after dark, and Legrand excitedly describes a new species of bug that he found and lent to Lieutenant G. for the night. The bug is golden with three black spots forming a triangle, and Jupiter insists that the bug's weight suggests that the bug is entirely made of gold. Legrand dismisses the comment and makes a rough sketch of the bug. After the narrator takes a moment to pet Legrand's Newfoundland dog, he says that if the sketch is accurate, then the bug looks exactly like a skull, and he asks where the antennae are. Legrand insists that he drew the antennae very clearly, but when he again views the paper, he grows first red and then pale before locking the paper inside a wallet, which he locks in his writing desk. For the rest of the night, Legrand appears preoccupied, and the narrator decides to leave.

After a month, the narrator receives a visit from the distraught Jupiter, who tells him that Legrand is acting peculiar. Legrand seems nervous and sick, and he keeps writing things on a slate, and one morning he left before Jupiter woke up for the entire day. Jupiter wanted to give Legrand a beating for his nerve but decided to withhold his blows because of Legrand's ill appearance. The servant suspects that Legrand's behavior has something to do with the gold bug, since he knows that the bug bit Legrand. Jupiter wrapped the bug in paper and stuffed up the insect's mouth, but since then, Legrand has been speaking of gold in his sleep. Jupiter gives the narrator a note from Legrand, which asks the narrator to come immediately to his hut. Worried, the narrator agrees to accompany Jupiter to the island.

When they reach the wharf, Jupiter shows the narrator the scythe and three spades that Legrand mysteriously requested that Jupiter buy. By three in the afternoon, they have sailed to the hut, and the highly-strung Legrand tells the narrator that he took the bug back from Lieutenant G. the following morning and that he has kept the bug for himself, since Jupiter was right in that it is made of gold and since he suspects that the gold will allow him to restore his fortunes. Jupiter refuses to bring him the scarab, so Legrand fetches it himself and tells the narrator that he wants the narrator's help, ignoring his friend's suggestion that he

might be sick. He convinces the narrator to accompany them on an expedition to the hills after promising that he will see a doctor afterward.

At four o'clock, the three men and the dog head out, equipped with the scythe, spades, lanterns, and bug, and by nightfall they reach a dreary area of hills. They use the scythe to cut away the brambles, and they reach a tall tulip tree. Upon Legrand's prompting, Jupiter agrees to climb the tree with the beetle, despite his fear of the bug. He follows Legrand's directions upward to the seventh limb, where his announcement that the limb is weakened by rot distresses Legrand, causing the narrator to make an unsuccessful attempt to coax Legrand back to the hut. However, Jupiter climbs to the end of the limb without incident and finds a skull with a nail fastening it to the tree. Legrand has him drop the beetle through the skull's left eye after the scythe clears a space beneath the insect on the ground. Legrand marks the spot of the bug's landing and clears a circle between the peg and another point fifty feet in the opposite direction from the tree. With the spades, they begin to dig.

Knowing that he will be unable to convince Jupiter to disobey Legrand and drag him back to his bed, the narrator resigns himself to digging, concluding that he will have to wait to disprove Legrand's bizarre idea of finding a treasure. After two hours of digging, during which they end the dog's barking by tying up its mouth, they dig a five-foot hole but find nothing. They extend the circle and dig to seven feet, and the disappointed Legrand begins to lead the three home before he realizes that Jupiter must have mixed up his right and left. Legrand adjusts the digging markers, and they resume their labors while the narrator becomes more interested in their digging. The agitated dog digs up two skeletons, a Spanish knife, and some loose coins, and the narrator trips over a ring buried in the dirt. They increase their speed and find a perfectly preserved chest of wood, inside which is a heap of gold and jewels. Jupiter repents for his former distrust of the bug, and they move the treasure back to their hut before dawn.

After taking brief naps, they look through the chest and estimate the treasure to be worth about one and a half million dollars (which has the same purchasing power as about forty-five million dollars in 2008 dollars), although later they find that their initial estimate is very low. After their investigations, Legrand explains how he figured out the location of the treasure. He had been insulted by the narrator's insinuations about his bad drawing skills, but when he looked at the scrap of parchment, he realized that in place of his drawing of a beetle was indeed a skull. He turned over the parchment and saw that his own sketch was on the reverse side of the parchment. Recalling that the parchment had not had a picture prior to his sketching of the beetle, he waited until the narrator left and Jupiter fell asleep to consider the affair.

Legrand recalls that he first found the scrap of parchment after the bug bit him, when Jupiter found the scrap of parchment sticking up from the sand near the remnants of an old shipwreck. Jupiter used the scrap to capture the beetle, and Legrand had accidentally kept the scrap when Lieutenant G. had taken the insect

for study at the fort. He connected the wreck with the parchment and skull image, which he recognized as a pirate's emblem. That the scrap was parchment and not paper was important because parchment is more durable but less convenient than paper. Its durability and shape suggested that that it was an important memorandum, and because no one could have altered the parchment without Legrand's knowing, he reasoned that the parchment's image must have been brought to light by the fumes of the fire when the narrator placed it on his lap to pet the dog. Legrand gave the entire parchment the heat treatment and saw the figure of a kid goat, which reminded him of Captain Kidd.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

Legrand began to feel very lucky, given the coincidences that had led him thus far. He could not recall hearing of anyone finding an important treasure on the South Carolina coast. He rinsed the parchment and, upon reheating, discovered a message written in code, which he assumed to be in English, since the pun on Kidd's name had been in the language. He counted the frequency of the symbols and used them to solve a simple substitution cipher, which revealed the message to be: "A good glass in the Bishop's hostel in the Devil's seat--forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes--northeast and by north--main branch seventh limb east side--shoot from the left eye of the death's-head--a bee-line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out."

Concluding that "Bishop's hostel" referred to an old family named Bessop that gave their name to a rock called Bessop's Castle, Legrand had an old lady direct him to the rock, where he saw a ledge formation that resembled a seat. He sat in the seat and used a telescope to view forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes above the horizon in the stated direction until he found the image of a skull. He decided that he had to find the tree at that point and drop an object straight down the skull's left eye to find the fifty-foot diameter away from the tree in which he would have to dig. Observing that only someone in the exact angle of the seat could have seen the break in the foliage to find the skull, he returned home and sent for the narrator. He had only insisted on using the bug because he wanted to goad the narrator, who obviously believed him mad. Upon the conclusion of his tale, the narrator asks about the skeletons above the chest, and Legrand speculates that Kidd must have killed the people who help him bury the treasure in order to preserve his secret.

Analysis

Although it does not at first appear to be so, "The Gold Bug" is akin to a detective story, complete with William Legrand as the hut-dwelling American counterpart to the French C. Auguste Dupin in "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" and "The Purloined Letter" and the narrator as the confused but intelligent sidekick who witnesses the central character's genius. Like Dupin, Legrand is the poor descendant of an old family who enjoys intellectual pursuits and who keeps a mercenary eye for the occasional opportunity to regain some of his wealth. Legrand's explanation of how he used observation and logic to discover the secret

of Captain Kidd's treasure bears some similarities to Dupin's method of ratiocination, and they both display a fondness for subtly poking fun at others, such as the Prefect of police in "The Purloined Letter" and the narrator and Jupiter in "The Gold Bug" for their lack of insight. Legrand's explanation at the end also has the flavor of a detective's reveal.

As in "The Premature Burial," the first half of "The Gold Bug" creates what is in hindsight an extremely misleading atmosphere. The narrator does not take Jupiter's constant suggestions that the bug is actually made of gold and that its bite made Legrand sick and possibly mad at face value, but nonetheless Legrand gives no indication that he has refuted Jupiter's ideas until after they find the treasure chest. Before Legrand explains the significance of the skull and says that he was simply playing a practical joke on his friends, the relationship between the gold bug and the image of the skull seems sinister and possibly supernatural. However, Legrand defies expectations and reveals a relatively ordinary explanation, and despite the title of the story, the gold bug is essentially irrelevant to the treasure hunt and turns out to have been nothing more than a coincidence.

The most obvious foreshadowing of the use of the gold bug as a false lead comes at the beginning of the story in the epigraph, which states, "What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad! He hath been bitten by the Tarantula," and is attributed to "All in the Wrong." The quote refers to old stories of people who were bitten by spiders and danced what become known as the tarantella folk dance to cure themselves of the poison. Without the attribution, the quote would refer to Legrand's illness and strange behavior that supposedly results from his bite by the beetle, but the fact that the epigraph comes from a source named "All in the Wrong" hints at the eventual insignificance of the bug's bite. The only bite that has really affected Legrand is the suggestion of a vast treasure to restore his fortunes.

Because he is a black former slave with a stereotyped accent and several obvious gaps in his knowledge, such as the difference between left and right, Jupiter is distinctly a product of the antebellum period in which Poe was writing. At the time, he would have served as a figure of comical relief, whose unintentional puns and misunderstandings such as "Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will" when Legrand was referring to the bug's antennae would have added a lighthearted element to what is essentially a tale about treasure hunters. Indeed, because Jupiter was freed by the Legrands prior to their fall in their fortunes and because unlike most contemporary black characters, Jupiter has an important, if stereotypical, speaking role, Jupiter is a comparatively progressive character for a member of his race living in the South. Nevertheless, to the modern reader, Poe's depiction of Jupiter can seem offensive and crude, and cultural differences in the modern-day understanding of "The Gold Bug" cannot be ignored.

The cipher which Legrand translates from the parchment is, as Legrand states, a simple substitution cipher, where each letter of the alphabet is represented by a number or symbol. Legrand's use of frequency analysis to determine the cipher is a legitimate approach to solving this type of code, and his interest in breaking

codes is reflected in Poe's own interest in puzzles and brainteasers. In this sense, Legrand is Poe's representative within the story, displaying Poe's penchant for irony and satire by playing with his friends' suspicions and eventually solving the case with ingenuity and clever reasoning. Although Legrand's treatise on ciphers interrupts the flow of the story, it successfully displays his intelligence and helps the narrator understand and believe the chain of Legrand's thoughts that lead to the ultimate discovery of the treasure.

Hop-Frog

The court jester Hop-Frog, "being also a dwarf and a cripple", is the much-abused "fool" of the unnamed king. This king has an insatiable sense of humor: "he seemed to live only for joking". Both Hop-Frog and his best friend, the dancer Trippetta (also small, but beautiful and well-proportioned), have been stolen from their homeland and essentially function as slaves. Because of his physical deformity, which prevents him from walking upright, the King nicknames him "Hop-Frog". Hop-Frog reacts severely to alcohol, and though the king knows this, he forces Hop-Frog to consume several goblets full. Trippetta begs the king to stop and, in front of seven members of his cabinet council, he strikes her and throws another goblet of wine into her face. The powerful men laugh at the expense of their two servants and ask Hop-Frog (who has very suddenly sobered up and become cheerful) for advice on an upcoming masquerade. He suggests some very realistic costumes for the men: costumes of orangutans chained together. The men love the idea of scaring their guests and agree to wear tight-fitting shirts and pants saturated with tar and covered with flax. In full costume, the men are then chained together and led into the "grand saloon" of masqueraders just after midnight.

As predicted, the guests are shocked and many believe the men to be real "beasts of some kind in reality, if not precisely ourang-outangs". Many rush for the doors to escape, but the King has insisted the doors be locked; the keys are left with Hop-Frog. Amidst the chaos, Hop-Frog attaches a chain from the ceiling to the chain linked around the men in costume. The chain then pulls them up via pulley (presumably by Trippetta, who had arranged the room so) far above the crowd. Hop-Frog puts on a spectacle so that the guests presume "the whole matter as a well-contrived pleasantry." He claims he can identify the culprits by looking at them up close. He climbs up to their level, and holds a torch close to the men's faces. They quickly catch fire: "In less than half a minute the whole eight ourang-outangs were blazing fiercely, amid the shrieks of the multitude who gazed at them from below, horror-stricken, and without the power to render them the slightest assistance."

Finally, before escaping through a sky-light with Trippetta to their home country, Hop-Frog identifies the men in costume:

I now see distinctly... what manner of people these maskers are. They are a great king and his seven privy-councillors - a king who does not scruple to strike a

defenceless girl, and his seven councillors who abet him in the outrage. As for myself, I am simply Hop-Frog, the jester - and this is my last jest.

How to write a blackwood article

The narrator introduces herself to us immediately, and in great detail. She calls herself Signora Psyche Zenobia, and claims that only her enemies call her Suky Snobbs. She describes her outfit as a “crimson satin dress, with the sky-blue Arabian mantelet, and the trimmings of green agraffas, and the seven flounces of orange-colored auriculas.” She is the secretary of the “Philadelphia, Regular, Exchange, Tea, Total, Young, Belles, Lettres, Universal, Experimental, Bibliographical, Association, To, Civilize, Humanity” or P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.L.U.E.B.A.T.C.H. society. Dr. Moneypenny, the founder of the society, insists that, like other societies, such as “the R. S. A., Royal Society of Arts, and the S. D. U. K., Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, they should write the initials of their society after their names. The P.R.E.T.T.Y.B.L.U.E.B.A.T.C.H. society, before Signora Zenobia joined, wrote papers that she claimed were full of buffoonery. Since she had joined, the papers have had much more substance, as good as, or better than Blackwood. In this paper Signora Zenobia writes about her interview with the editor of Blackwood on how to get published in his paper.Mr. Blackwood, the editor of the Blackwood paper, welcomes Signora Zenobia and immediately begins advising her on how to write an article for him. He describes many of the so called ‘bizzare’ articles that have been published in his paper and suggests that Signora Zenobia, immediately upon leaving, get herself “into such a scrape as no one ever got into before” and to describe her sensations during the scrape. He defines several different tones of writing for her, and suggests she choose one, or she could choose “heteregenous, a judicious mixture, in equal proportions, of all the other tones in the world.” The next piece of advice Mr. Blackwood gives to Signora Zenobia relates to the filling up of the article. He gives her several examples of quotes she can use without actually having done research on what they mean. He also suggests she use a mix of Latin, Greek, Spanish, French and German in her article so as to “afford evidence of extensive general reading.”After such advice Mr. Blackwood offers to buy any articles she should write, and Signore Zenobia spends the rest of the day “wandering about Edinburgh, seeking for desperate adventures,” but it wasn’t until later in the day that “an important event then happened of which the following Blackwood article, in the tone heterogeneous, is the substance and result.”

The Imp of the Perverse

The narrator explains at length his theory on "The Imp of the Perverse", which he believes causes people to commit morally questionable acts. This essay-like discussion is presented objectively, though the narrator admits that he is "one of the many uncounted victims of the Imp of the Perverse".[1] He then explains how his act of murder was the result of this.

The narrator murders a man using a candle that emits a poisonous vapor. The victim enjoyed reading in bed at night and, using the candle for illumination, dies in his poorly-ventilated room. No evidence is left behind, causing the coroner to believe the man's death is an act of God. The narrator inherits the man's estate and, knowing he can never be caught, enjoys the benefits of his murderous act for many years.

He remains unsuspected, though he occasionally reassures himself by repeating under his breath, "I am safe". One day, he notes he will remain safe only if he is not foolish enough to openly confess. In saying so, however, he begins to question if he is capable of confessing. He fearfully runs through the streets, arousing suspicion. When finally stopped, he feels struck by some "invisible fiend". He reveals his secret with "distinct enunciation", though in such a hurry as if afraid of being interrupted. He is quickly tried and convicted of murder and sentenced to death byhanging.

OTRO

Editor's Note: In “The Imp of the Perverse,” an unnamed narrator in a prison cell addresses an unnamed listener (or listeners)........In explaining human behavior and its causes, researchers in various fields have failed to note that one type of behavior has no reasonable cause, the narrator asserts. Furthermore, they have failed to realize that this type of behavior is normal and even necessary.  .......What is the force behind this behavior? It is an “innate and primitive principle . . . a paradoxical something, which we may call perverseness, for want of a more characteristic term,” the narrator says. This perverseness causes us to act even though we have no moral or logical reason to act. .......Theoretically, it makes no sense to act without a good reason. However, at certain times and under certain conditions, “it becomes absolutely irresistible” to act without a worthwhile reason. Often it is the wrongness of an action, or an undesired result it could cause, that impels us to carry out the action. For example, in a conversation, a person may wish to please his listener by being brief and to the point. But when perverseness takes hold of him, he rambles on to annoy or anger the listener. .......Sometimes, when a person has an urgent task to perform–one that he well knows he must take care of immediately–he puts off the task because of a perverse impulse. The following day, the task becomes even more urgent. However, the desire to put it off, now even stronger, results in further delay. Finally, the deadline arrives and passes. The person may feel free and liberated. His energy revives and he goes on with his life.  .......Now consider this situation. We stand at the edge of a cliff. As we look down, the narrator says, “we grow sick and dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink from the danger. Unaccountably we remain. By and by, a delightfully horrifying thought occurs to us: How would we feel during “the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height . . . And because our reason violently deters us from the brink, therefore do we the most impetuously approach it . . . If there be no friendly arm to

check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed." .......In these instances, the narrator explains, “the spirit of the perverse” gains control. We carry out an act simply because we know we should not. We might think that this spirit springs from the devil himself were it not for the fact that sometimes it operates in “furtherance of good.” .......The narrator points out to his listener that he is telling him about the power of perverseness to answer his question about why the narrator is shackled in a cell as a condemned prisoner. The fact is, the narrator says, he is a victim of the Imp of the Perverse. .......“For weeks, for months, I pondered upon the means of the murder," the narrator says. "I rejected a thousand schemes, because their accomplishment involved a chance of detection.”  .......Then, he says, he hit upon an idea after reading about a French woman, Madame Pilau, who became severely ill after inhaling the smoke from a candle that had been accidentally poisoned. What he did was to make his own candle, poisoned, and substitute it for the one on the candle stand next to the bed of his intended victim. The next morning, the man was found dead, and the coroner concluded that it was a case of “Death by the visitation of God.” .......After inheriting the man’s estate, the narrator says, he did not worry about being caught, for he had carefully disposed of the candle. No other clues existed to link him to the crime. Then one day the words “I am safe” kept coming back to him in his mind, like the words of a haunting song. Sometime later, while walking on a street, he found himself saying, “I am safe–I am safe–yes–if I be not fool enough to make open confession.” His utterance unnerved him, for he recognized it as a fit of perversity. He had suffered such fits in the past, and never once was he able to resist them.  ......."At first, I made an effort to shake off this nightmare of the soul," the narrator says. "I walked vigorously–faster–still faster–at length I ran. I felt a maddening desire to shriek aloud." .......When pedestrians saw him running like a madman, he says, they pursued him. And then, unable to contain the impulse inside him, he released his “long imprisoned secret.” He said enough to send himself "to the hangman and to hell."

King Pest

Two sailors from the schooner “Free and Easy” are on shore leave and enjoying two un-paid for drinks at the “Jolly Tar”. Having spent all their money at previous bars, the two sailors, Hugh Tarpulin and Legs, decide to “pump ship, clew up all sail and scud before the wind.” In other words, leave without paying. After rolling into the fireplace twice, mistaking it for a door, the two drunken sailors make it out the door hotly pursued by the landlady of the “Jolly Tar”.

Hugh and Legs escape into a quarantined section of London where they, senseless to the frightening atmosphere complete with carcasses of robbers “arrested by the hand of the plague,” stumble into a meeting of six strange people.

Each member had “only one feature … sufficiently distinguished (as) to need a separate characterization.” The president of the company, known as King Pest the First, had a “forehead so unusually lofty, as to have the appearance of a… crown of flesh superadded upon the natural head.” Queen Pest who sat directly across from the King, had a mouth that commenced “at the right ear (and) swept with a terrific chasm to the left.”

Her Serene Highness the Arch Duchess Ana-Pest, a delicate little creature with nose that was “extremely long, thin, sinuous, flexible and pimpled, (and) hung down far below her under lip” sat to the right of Queen Pest. To the left of the Queen sat the Arch Duke Pest-iferous with cheeks “reposed upon the shoulders of their owner, like two huge bladders of … wine.” Next to the Arch Duke, and to the right of the King, sat the Duke Pest-Ilential. His ears “towered into the atmosphere of the apartment, and were occasionally pricked up in a spasm, at the sound of the drawing of a cork.” The sixth person, the Duke Tem-Pest, was arranged in the middle of the group. His “unaccommodating habiliments” did not allow him to bend, so he lay, reclined at a forty-five degree angle, in a coffin. His “huge google eyes rolled up … towards the ceiling in absolute amazement at their own enormity.”

King Pest invited the two men to drink with them, but, having had his fill already, Legs started to decline. He was interrupted by Hugh who was willing to drink, but was so belligerent in his drunken state he insulted King Pest before they were able to drink. A fight ensued in which Hugh was thrown into the enormous punch bowl in the middle of the room. Legs, in his effort to save Hugh, tipped over the punch bowl and drowned the Arch Duke, and the liquor carried off the Duke in his coffin. Legs grabbed Queen Pest, Hugh grabbed Arch Duchess Ana-Pest, and they both “made a bee-line for the “Free and Easy”.

Ligeia

After offering a quote by Joseph Glanvill claiming that man only yields to death if his will is not strong enough, the unnamed narrator explains that he does not remember any details about his original acquaintance with Ligeia. Although he remembers her knowledge, her beauty, and her thrilling voice, he does not associate the acquisition of these memories with a specific moment. He believes that he met her in an old city near the Rhine River, but he cannot recall what she said about her family, and he never asked for her last name, despite having married her. Despite not recalling these details, he remembers her very clearly and describes her as tall and slender, to the point of emaciation upon her deathbed. He mentions her majestic demeanor and the lightness of her steps, as well as her strange but exquisite features, pale skin, and black, curly hair.

Ads by CouponDropDown     

The narrator recalls Ligeia's brilliant black eyes with particular accuracy, as they give him a sense of rapture that he compares to his emotions when viewing certain

stars or watching the ocean. He repeats Glanvill's quote and connects it to Ligeia, whose serene exterior hides a fierce passion that her eyes still express, which both "delighted and appalled" the narrator. He also speaks of Ligeia's learning and skill with languages, which surpassed his own knowledge. Because of her superior intelligence, she helps him understand "the chaotic world of metaphysical studies" during their first years as a married couple.

Although the couple lives happily for some time, Ligeia eventually falls extremely ill. Both Ligeia and her husband firmly try to resist her impending death, and not until the last is her placid appearance outwardly disturbed by her mental turbulence. She pours out her love for her husband, who recognizes her wild longing for life, and she asks him to read her verses from a poem that she recently composed. The poem describes a throng of angels watching a play performed by mimes who are controlled by "vast formless things." After a moment, a blood-red crawling object enters and writhes "with mortal pangs" while eating the mimes, to the distress of the angels. The curtain falls, and the angels confirm that the tragedy is called "Man" and the hero is the Conqueror Worm. Ligeia asks if the conqueror can be avoided, and her last words are a reference to Glanvill's quote, affirming her belief that man only dies because of his weak will.

Distraught, the narrator leaves the ancient city on the Rhine and purchases a gloomy old abbey in a remote area of England. He marries the blonde, blue-eyed Lady Rowena Trevanion of Tremaine, and their bridal chamber is a pentagonal room in one of the towers with a window that is tinted so as to give a ghastly light, a vaulted oak ceiling with Gothic and Druidical designs, furniture of Eastern origin and black granite sarcophagi, and gigantic gold tapestries that give a phantasmagoric effect. Rowena does not love her husband and fears his temper, but he loathes her and does not care. Instead, he indulges in opium and dreams of Ligeia's beauty and love.

In the second month of their marriage, Rowena suddenly falls ill and speaks of hearing noises, which the narrator blames on illusions created by the Gothic atmosphere of the bridal chamber. She recovers briefly before commencing a series of increasingly severe illnesses, and the narrator observes that she is fearful of movements in the chamber. To calm her, he goes to give her some light wine, but to his surprise, he senses the shadow of a shade. Being under the influence of opium, he ignores it and pours a goblet of wine for his wife. As Rowena drinks, he thinks he hears someone moving and sees a few drops of red liquid fall into the goblet. Rowena sees nothing, and he guesses that the opium was simply giving him hallucinations.

Three days later, Rowena dies, and the next day, the narrator sits next to her body in the bridal chamber. He recalls the shadow that he saw before looking at Rowena, but instead of thinking of his second wife, he begins to think only about Ligeia. Around midnight, he is startled by a low sob and begins to intently watch Rowena's body. For a few moments, he sees some color return to her face, and he supposes that Rowena is still alive, but he has no way to immediately call the

servants and continues to watch. However, soon the body returns to death, and the narrator resumes daydreaming of Ligeia.

After an hour, the process of semi-revival repeats, and the narrator attempts to help her, but she returns to death, and he returns to thoughts of his first wife. The process occurs several more times, and each time the corpse seems to return more finally to death, until eventually she manages to rise from the bed and walk a few steps towards him. The confused and frightened narrator asks himself if Rowena has revived, but he notices that she has grown taller, and he tears away her funeral shroud to find that her hair is not blonde but black. She opens her eyes, and he realizes that Ligeia - not Rowena - is standing before him.