Chapter VI (5)

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

"But is it not possible," I suggested, "that although the letter may be in possession of the Minister, as it unquestionably is, he may have concealed it elsewhere than upon his own premises?"

"This is barely possible," said Dupin. "The present peculiar condition of affairs at court, and especially of those intrigues in which D---- is known to be involved, would render the instant availability of the document--its susceptibility of being produced at a moment's notice--a point of nearly equal importance with its possession."

"Its susceptibility of being produced?" said I.

"That is to say, of being _destroyed_," said Dupin.

"True," I observed; "the paper is clearly then upon the premises. As for its being upon the person of the Minister, we may consider that as out of the question."

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

"You might have spared yourself this trouble," said Dupin. "D----, I presume, is not altogether a fool, and, if not, must have anticipated these waylayings, as a matter of course."

"Not _altogether_ a fool," said G----, "but then he's a poet, which I take to be only one remove from a fool."

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

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

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

"Why so?"

"Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged piece of furniture, is removed by the person wishing to conceal an article; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within the cavity, and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of bedposts are employed in the same way."

"But could not the cavity be detected by sounding?" I asked.

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

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

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

"I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the boards and the plates, and you probed the beds and the bedclothes, as well as the curtains and carpets?"

"That, of course; and when we had absolutely completed every particle of the furniture in this way, then we examined the house itself. We divided its entire surface into compartments, which we numbered, so that none might be missed; then we scrutinized each individual square inch throughout the premises, including the two houses immediately adjoining, with the microscope, as before."

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

"We had; but the reward offered is prodigious."

"You include the _grounds_ about the houses?"

"All the grounds are paved with bricks. They gave us comparatively little trouble. We examined the moss between the bricks, and found it undisturbed."

"You looked among D----'s papers, of course, and into the books of the library?"

"Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we not only opened every book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume, not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion of some of our police officers. We also measured the thickness of every book-_cover_, with the most accurate admeasurement, and applied to each the most jealous scrutiny of the microscope. Had any of the bindings been recently meddled with, it would have been utterly impossible that the fact should have escaped observation. Some five or six volumes, just from the hands of the binder, we carefully probed, longitudinally, with the needles."

"You explored the floors beneath the carpets?"

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

"And the paper on the walls?"

"Yes."

"You looked into the cellars?"

"We did."

"Then," I said, "you have been making a miscalculation, and the letter is _not_ upon the premises, as you suppose."

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

"To make a thorough re-search of the premises."

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

"I have no better advice to give you," said Dupin.

"You have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?"

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

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

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

"Confound him, say I--yes; I made the re-examination, however, as Dupin suggested--but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would be."

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

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

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

"How?--in what way?"

"Why--puff, puff--you might--puff, puff--employ counsel in the matter, eh?--puff, puff, puff. Do you remember the story they tell of Abernethy?"

"No; hang Abernethy!"

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

"'We will suppose,' said the miser, 'that his symptoms are such and such; now, doctor, what would _you_ have directed him to take?'

"'Take!' said Abernethy, 'why, take _advice_, to be sure.'"

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

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

I was astounded. The Prefect appeared absolutely thunder-stricken. For some minutes he remained speechless and motionless, looking incredulously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that seemed starting from their sockets; then, apparently recovering himself in some measure, he seized a pen, and after several pauses and vacant stares, finally filled up and signed a check for fifty thousand francs, and handed it across the table to Dupin. The latter examined it carefully and deposited it in his pocketbook; then, unlocking an _escritoire_, took thence a letter and gave it to the Prefect. This functionary grasped it in a perfect agony of joy, opened it with a trembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents, and then, scrambling and struggling to the door, rushed at length unceremoniously from the room and from the house, without having uttered a syllable since Dupin had requested him to fill up the check.

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

"The Parisian police," he said, "are exceedingly able in their way. They are persevering, ingenious, cunning, and thoroughly versed in the knowledge which their duties seem chiefly to demand. Thus, when G---- detailed to us his mode of searching the premises at the Hotel D----, I felt entire confidence in his having made a satisfactory investigation--so far as his labors extended."

"So far as his labors extended?" said I.

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

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

"The measures, then," he continued, "were good in their kind, and well executed; their defect lay in their being inapplicable to the case, and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources are, with the Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed to which he forcibly adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs by being too deep or too shallow, for the matter in hand; and many a schoolboy is a better reasoner than he. I knew one about eight years of age, whose success at guessing in the game of 'even and odd' attracted universal admiration. This game _is_ simple, and is played with marbles. One player holds in his hand a number of these toys, and demands of another whether that number is even or odd. If the guess is right, the guesser wins one; if wrong, he loses one. The boy to whom I allude won all the marbles of the school. Of course he had some principle of guessing; and this lay in mere observation and admeasurement of the astuteness of his opponents. For example, an arrant simpleton is his opponent, and, holding up his closed hand asks, 'Are they even or odd?' Our schoolboy replies, 'Odd' and loses; but upon the second trial he wins, for he then says to himself, 'the simpleton had them even upon the first trial, and his amount of cunning is just sufficient to make him have them odd upon the second; I will therefore guess odd;' he guesses odd, and wins. Now, with a simpleton a degree above the first he would have reasoned thus: 'This fellow finds that in the first instance I guessed odd, and, in the second, he will propose to himself, upon the first impulse, a simple variation from even to odd, as did the first simpleton; but then a second thought will suggest that this is too simple a variation, and finally he will decide upon putting it even as before. I will therefore guess even;' he guesses even, and wins. Now this mode of reasoning in the schoolboy, whom his fellows term 'lucky,'--what, in its last analysis, is it?"

"It is merely," I said, "an identification of the reasoner's intellect with that of his opponent."

"It is," said Dupin; "and, upon inquiring of the boy by what means he effected the _thorough_ identification in which his success consisted, I received answer as follows: 'When I wish to find out how wise, or how stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one, or what are his thoughts at the moment, I fashion the expression of my face, as accurately as possible, in accordance with the expression of his, and then wait to see what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind or heart, as if to match or correspond with the expression.' This response of the schoolboy lies at the bottom of all the spurious profundity which has been attributed to Rochefoucauld, to La Bruyère, to Machiavelli, and to Campanella."

"And the identification," I said, "of the reasoner's intellect with that of his opponent, depends, if I understand you aright, upon the accuracy with which the opponent's intellect is admeasured."

"For its practical value it depends upon this," replied Dupin, "and the Prefect and his cohort fail so frequently, first, by default of this identification, and, secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather through non-admeasurement, of the intellect with which they are engaged. They consider only their _own_ ideas of ingenuity; and, in searching for anything hidden, advert only to the modes in which _they_ would have hidden it. They are right in this much--that their own ingenuity is a faithful representative of that of _the mass_: but when the cunning of the individual felon is diverse in character from their own, the felon foils them, of course. This always happens when it is above their own, and very usually when it is below. They have no variation of principle in their investigations; at best, when urged by some unusual emergency--by some extraordinary reward--they extend or exaggerate their old modes of _practice_, without touching their principles. What, for example, in this case of D----, has been done to vary the principle of action? What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, and scrutinizing with the microscope, and dividing the surface of the building into registered square inches--what is it all but an exaggeration _of the application_ of the one principle or set of principles of search, which are based upon the one set of notions regarding human ingenuity, to which the Prefect, in the long routine of his duty, has been accustomed? Do you not see he has taken it for granted that _all_ men proceed to conceal a letter,--not exactly in a gimlet-hole bored in a chair leg--but, at least, in _some_ out-of-the-way hole or corner suggested by the same tenor of thought which would urge a man to secrete a letter in a gimlet-hole bored in a chair-leg? And do you not see, also, that such _recherchés_ nooks for concealment are adapted only for ordinary occasions and would be adopted only by ordinary intellects; for, in all cases of concealment, a disposal of the article concealed--a disposal of it in this _recherché_ manner--is, in the very first instance, presumable and presumed; and thus its discovery depends, not at all upon the acumen, but altogether upon the mere care, patience, and determination of the seekers; and where the case is of importance--or, what amounts to the same thing in policial eyes, when the reward is of magnitude--the qualities in question have _never_ been known to fail. You will now understand what I meant in suggesting that, had the purloined letter been hidden anywhere within the limits of the Prefect's examination--in other words, had the principle of its concealment been comprehended within the principles of the Prefect--its discovery would have been a matter altogether beyond question. This functionary, however, has been thoroughly mystified; and the remote source of his defeat lies in the supposition that the Minister is a fool, because he has acquired renown as a poet. All fools are poets; this the Prefect _feels_; and he is merely guilty of a _non distributio medii_ in thence inferring that all poets are fools."

"But is this really the poet?" I asked. "There are two brothers, I know; and both have attained reputation in letters. The Minister, I believe, has written learnedly on the Differential Calculus. He is a mathematician, and no poet"

"You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. As poet _and_ mathematician, he would reason well; as mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the mercy of the Prefect."

"You surprise me," I said, "by these opinions, which have been contradicted by the voice of the world. You do not mean to set at naught the well-digested idea of centuries. The mathematical reason has long been regarded as _the_ reason _par excellence_."

"'_Il-y-a à parier_,'" replied Dupin, quoting from Chamfort, "'_que toute idée publique, toute convention reçue, est une sottise, car elle a convenue au plus grand nombre_.' The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate the popular error to which you allude, and which is none the less an error for its promulgation as truth. With an art worthy a better cause, for example, they have insinuated the term 'analysis' into application to algebra. The French are the originators of this particular deception ; but if a term is of any importance--if words derive any value from applicability--then 'analysis' conveys 'algebra,' about as much as, in Latin, '_ambitus_' implies 'ambition,' '_religio_,' 'religion,' or '_homines honesti_,'a set of honorable men."

"You have a quarrel on hand, I see," said I, "with some of the algebraists of Paris; but proceed."

"I dispute the availability, and thus the value, of that reason which is cultivated in any especial form other than the abstractly logical. I dispute, in particular, the reason educed by mathematical study. The mathematics are the science of form and quantity; mathematical reasoning is merely logic applied to observation upon form and quantity. The great error lies in supposing that even the truths of what is called _pure_ algebra are abstract or general truths. And this error is so egregious that I am confounded at the universality with which it has been received. Mathematical axioms are _not_ axioms of general truth. What is true of _relation_--of form and quantity--is often grossly false in regard to morals, for example. In this latter science it is very usually _un_true that the aggregated parts are equal to the whole. In chemistry also the axiom fails. In the consideration of motive it fails; for two motives, each of a given value, have not, necessarily, a value when united, equal to the sum of their values apart. There are numerous other mathematical truths which are only truths within the limits of _relation_. But the mathematician argues, from his _finite truths_, through habit, as if they were of an absolutely general applicability--as the world indeed imagines them to be. Bryant, in his very learned 'Mythology,' mentions an analogous source of error, when he says that 'although the Pagan fables are not believed, yet we forget ourselves continually, and make inferences from them as existing realities.' With the algebraists, however, who are Pagans themselves, the 'Pagan fables' _are_ believed, and the inferences are made, not so much through lapse of memory, as through an unaccountable addling of the brains. In short, I neyer yet encountered the mere mathematician who could be trusted out of equal roots, or one who did not clandestinely hold it as a point of his faith that _x²+px_ was absolutely and unconditionally equal to _q_. Say to one of these gentlemen, by way of experiment, if you please, that you believe occasions may occur where _x²+px_ is _not_ altogether equal to _q_, and, having made him understand what you mean, get out of his reach as speedily as convenient, for, beyond doubt, he will endeavor to knock you down.

"I mean to say," continued Dupin, while I merely laughed at his last observations, "that if the Minister had been no more than a mathematician, the Prefect would have been under no necessity of giving me this check. I knew him, however, as both mathematician and poet, and my measures were adapted to his capacity, with reference to the circumstances by which he was surrounded. I knew him as courtier, too, and as a bold _intriguant_. Such a man, I considered, could not fail to be aware of the ordinary policial modes of action. He could not have failed to anticipate--and events have proved that he did not fail to anticipate--the waylayings to which he was subjected. He must have foreseen, I reflected, the secret investigations of his premises. His frequent absences from home at night, which were hailed by the Prefect as certain aids to his success, I regarded only as ruses, to afford opportunity for thorough search to the police, and thus the sooner to impress them with the conviction to which G----, in fact, did finally arrive--the conviction that the letter was not upon the premises. I felt, also, that the whole train of thought, which I was at some pains in detailing to you just now, concerning the invariable principle of policial action in searches for articles concealed--I felt that this whole train of thought would necessarily pass through the mind of the Minister. It would imperatively lead him to despise all the ordinary _nooks_ of concealment. _He_ could not, I reflected, be so weak as not to see that the most intricate and remote recess of his Hotel would be as open as his commonest closets to the eyes, to the probes, to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of the Prefect. I saw, in fine, that he would be driven, as a matter of course, to _simplicity_, if not deliberately induced to it as a matter of choice. You will remember, perhaps, how desperately the Prefect laughed when I suggested, upon our first interview, that it was just possible this mystery troubled him so much on account of its being so _very_ self-evident."

"Yes," said I, "I remember his merriment well. I really thought he would have fallen into convulsions."

"The material world," continued Dupin, "abounds with very strict analogies to the immaterial; and thus some color of truth has been given to the rhetorical dogma, that metaphor, or simile, may be made to strengthen an argument, as well as to embellish a description. The principle of the _vis inertiæ_, for example, seems to be identical in physics and metaphysics. It is not more true in the former, that a large body is with more difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, and that its subsequent momentum is commensurate with this difficulty, than it is, in the latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while more forcible, more constant, and more eventful in their movements than those of inferior grade, are yet the less readily moved, and more embarrassed and full of hesitation in the first few steps of their progress. Again: have you ever noticed which of the street signs, over the shop-doors, are the most attractive of attention?"

"I have never given the matter a thought," I said.

"There is a game of puzzles," he resumed, "which is played upon a map. One party playing requires another to find a given word--the name of town, river, state, or empire--any word, in short, upon the motley and perplexed surface of the chart. A novice in the game generally seeks to embarrass his opponents by giving them the most minutely lettered names; but the adept selects such words as stretch, in large characters, from one end of the chart to the other. These, like the over-largely lettered signs and placards of the street, escape observation by dint of being excessively obvious; and here the physical oversight is precisely analogous with the moral inapprehension by which the intellect suffers to pass unnoticed those considerations which are too obtrusively and too palpably self-evident. But this is a point, it appears, somewhat above or beneath the understanding of the Prefect. He never once thought it probable, or possible, that the Minister had deposited the letter immediately beneath the nose of the whole world, by way of best preventing any portion of that world from perceiving it.

"But the more I reflected upon the daring, dashing, and discriminating ingenuity of D----; upon the fact that the document must always have been _at hand,_ if he intended to use it to good purpose; and upon the decisive evidence, obtained by the Prefect, that it was not hidden within the limits of that dignitary's ordinary search--the more satisfied I became that, to conceal this letter, the Minister had resorted to the comprehensive and sagacious expedient of not attempting to conceal it at all.

"Full of these ideas, I prepared myself with a pair of green spectacles, and called one fine morning, quite by accident, at the Ministerial Hotel. I found D---- at home, yawning, lounging, and dawdling, as usual, and pretending to be in the last extremity of ennui. He is, perhaps, the most really energetic human being now alive--but that is only when nobody sees him.

"To be even with him, I complained of my weak eyes, and lamented the necessity of the spectacles, under cover of which I cautiously and thoroughly surveyed the apartment, while seemingly intent only upon the conversation of my host.

"I paid especial attention to a large writing-table near which he sat, and upon which lay confusedly some miscellaneous letters and other papers, with one or two musical instruments and a few books. Here, however, after a long and very deliberate scrutiny, I saw nothing to excite particular suspicion.

"At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room, fell upon a trumpery filigree card-rack of pasteboard, that hung dangling by a dirty blue ribbon from a little brass knob just beneath the middle of the mantelpiece. In this rack, which had three or four compartments, were five or six visiting cards and a solitary letter. This last was much soiled and crumpled. It was torn nearly in two, across the middle--as if a design, in the first instance, to tear it entirely up as worthless, had been altered, or stayed, in the second. It had a large black seal, bearing the D---- cipher _very_ conspicuously, and was addressed, in a diminutive female hand, to D----, the Minister himself. It was thrust carelessly, and even, as it seemed, contemptuously, into one of the upper divisions of the rack.

"No sooner had I glanced at this letter, than I concluded it to be that of which I was in search. To be sure, it was, to all appearance, radically different from the one of which the Prefect had read us so minute a description. Here the seal was large and black, with the D---- cipher; there it was small and red, with the ducal arms of the S---- family. Here, the address, to the Minister, was diminutive and feminine; there the superscription, to a certain royal personage, was markedly bold and decided; the size alone formed a point of correspondence. But then, the _radicalness_ of these differences, which was excessive; the dirt; the soiled and torn condition of the paper, so inconsistent with the _true_ methodical habits of D----, and so suggestive of a design to delude the beholder into an idea of the worthlessness of the document; these things, together with the hyperobtrusive situation of this document, full in the view of every visitor, and thus exactly in accordance with the conclusions to which I had previously arrived; these things, I say, were strongly corroborative of suspicion, in one who came with the intention to suspect.

"I protracted my visit as long as possible, and, while I maintained a most animated discussion with the Minister, upon a topic which I knew well had never failed to interest and excite him, I kept my attention really riveted upon the letter. In this examination, I committed to memory its external appearance and arrangement in the rack; and also fell, at length, upon a discovery which set at rest whatever trivial doubt I might have entertained. In scrutinizing the edges of the paper, I observed them to be more _chafed_ than seemed necessary. They presented the _broken_ appearance which is manifested when a stiff paper, having been once folded and pressed with a folder, is refolded in a reversed direction, in the same creases or edges which had formed the original fold. This discovery was sufficient. It was clear to me that the letter had been turned, as a glove, inside out, re-directed, and re-sealed. I bade the Minister good-morning, and took my departure at once, leaving a gold snuff-box upon the table.

"The next morning I called for the snuff-box, when we resumed, quite eagerly, the conversation of the preceding day. While thus engaged, however, a loud report, as if of a pistol, was heard immediately beneath the windows of the Hotel, and was succeeded by a series of fearful screams, and the shoutings of a mob. D---- rushed to a casement, threw it open, and looked out. In the meantime, I stepped to the card-rack, took the letter, put it in my pocket, and replaced it by a facsimile (so far as regards externals), which I had carefully prepared at my lodgings--imitating the D---- cipher, very readily, by means of a seal formed of bread.

"The disturbance in the street had been occasioned by the frantic behavior of a man with a musket. He had fired it among a crowd of women and children. It proved, however, to have been without ball, and the fellow was suffered to go his way as a lunatic or a drunkard. When he had gone, D---- came from the window, whither I had followed him immediately upon securing the object in view. Soon afterwards I bade him farewell. The pretended lunatic was a man in my own pay."

"But what purpose had you," I asked, "in replacing the letter by a facsimile? Would it not have been better, at the first visit, to have seized it openly, and departed?"

"D----," replied Dupin, "is a desperate man, and a man of nerve. His Hotel, too, is not without attendants devoted to his interests. Had I made the wild attempt you suggest, I might never have left the Ministerial presence alive. The good 30 people of Paris might have heard of me no more. But I had an object apart from these considerations. You know my political prepossessions. In this matter, I act as a partisan of the lady concerned. For eighteen months the Minister has had her in his power. She has now him in hers--since, being unaware that the letter is not in his possession, he will proceed with his exactions as if it was. Thus will he inevitably commit himself, at once, to his political destruction. His downfall, too, will not be more precipitate than awkward. It is all very well to talk about the _facilis descensus Averni_; but in all kinds of climbing, as Catalani said of singing, it is far more easy to get up than to come down. In the present instance I have no sympathy--at least no pity--for him who descends. He is that _monstrum horrendum_, an unprincipled man of genius. I confess, however, that I should like very well to know the precise character of his thoughts, when, being defied by her whom the Prefect terms 'a certain personage,' he is reduced to opening the letter which I left for him in the card-rack."

"How? Did you put anything particular in it?"

"Why--it did not seem altogether right to leave the interior blank--that would have been insulting. D----, at Vienna once, did me an evil turn, which I told him, quite good-humoredly, that I should remember. So, as I knew he would feel some curiosity in regard to the identity of the person who had outwitted him, I thought it a pity not to give him a clew. He is well acquainted with my MS., and I just copied into the middle of the blank sheet the words--

'--Un dessein si funeste,
S'il n'est digne d'Atrée, est digne de Thyeste.'

They are to be found in Crébillon's _Atrée_."

NOTES

The text followed both for poems and tales is that of the Stedman-Woodberry edition of Poe's Works, in which the editors followed, in most cases, the text of what is known as the "Lorimer Graham" copy of the edition of 1845, containing marginal corrections in Poe's own hand. Poe revised his work frequently and sometimes extensively. The following notes show, in most cases, the dates both of the first publication and of subsequent ones. Familiarity with the Introduction to this book will, in some cases, be necessary to an understanding of the notes. Gayley's "Classic Myths in English Literature" (Ginn & Company, $1.50) is the best reference work of small size for allusions to mythology, and should be available.

Both poems and tales are arranged in chronological order.

POEMS

SONG (Page 3)

Published in 1827, 1829, and 1845. The poem is believed to refer to Miss Royster, of Richmond, with whom Poe was in love as a boy of sixteen, shortly before he entered the University of Virginia. The young lady's father intercepted the correspondence, and Miss Royster soon became Mrs. Shelton. The blush, mentioned in lines 2, 9, and 14, is doubtless intended to imply shame for her desertion. The poem is commonplace, and shows little that is characteristic of the older Poe.

SPIRITS OF THE DEAD (Page 3)

Published in 1827 as "Visit of the Dead," and in 1829 and 1839 under the above title. It has been conjectured that this poem was inspired by the death of Mrs. Stannard (see Introduction, page xii).

TO ---- (Page 4)

The original, longer and addressed "To M----," appeared in the edition of 1829, and was republished in 1845.

ROMANCE (Page 5)

Printed as a preface in 1829, and as an introduction in 1831; considerably revised and shortened, it appeared in 1843 and 1845 as "Romance."

11. condor years. The metaphor implies a likeness of time--the years--to a bird of prey. Cf. "condor wings" in "The Conqueror Worm."

19. forbidden things: i.e. "lyre and rhyme." What is the meaning?

TO THE RIVER-- (Page 5)

Published first in 1829, afterwards in several magazines and in the edition of 1845.

TO SCIENCE (Page 6)

Published first in 1829, this poem appeared in editions of 1831 and 1845, and in magazines. It is a sonnet, differing from the Shakespearean form only in the repetition of the rhyme with "eyes."

9, 10, 12. In classical mythology, Diana is the moon goddess, Hamadryad, a wood nymph, Naiad, a water nymph. Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths." Explain the figures of speech.

13. Elfin: elf, a fairy, from the Anglo-Saxon, refers especially to tiny sprites, fond of mischief and tricks. But there were various kinds of elves, according to the Norse mythology. Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths." Explain the figure.

14. tamarind-tree: a beautiful, spreading, Oriental tree, with pinnate leaves and showy racemes of yellow flowers variegated with red. What does the line mean?

TO HELEN (Page 7)

Published in 1831, 1836, 1841, 1843, and 1845. Read comment in the Introduction, pages xii and xxiii.

2. Nicæan barks. It is impossible to say exactly what this allusion means. Professor W.P. Trent aptly suggests that if "wanderer" in line 4 refers to Ulysses, as seems likely, "Phæacian" would have been the right word, since the Phæacians did convey Ulysses to Ithaca. Poe may have had that idea in mind and used the wrong word, or this may simply be a characteristically vague suggestion of antiquity. Point out similar examples of indefinite suggestion in this poem.

7. hyacinth hair: a favorite term with Poe. In "The Assignation" he says of the Marchesa Aphrodite, "Her hair ... clustered round and round her classical head, in curls like those of the young hyacinth." The hair of Ligeia, in the story of that title, he calls "the raven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant and naturally-curling tresses, setting forth the full force of the Homeric epithet, 'hyacinthine.'"

8. Naiad airs: suggestive of exquisite grace. The Naiads, in classical mythology, are water nymphs,--lovely maidens presiding over brooks and fountains.

9, 10. Two of Poe's best and most frequently quoted lines. Explain the fitness of the epithets. Originally the lines read:

To the beauty of fair Greece
And the grandeur of old Rome.

Is the change an improvement? Explain.

14. Psyche: the Greek word for "soul," and also the name of a beautiful maiden whom Cupid himself loved and wedded. Read the story in Gayley's "Classic Myths."

ISRAFEL (Page 7)

Published in editions of 1831 and 1845, and several times in magazines. See comment in the Introduction, page xxiii. Poe derived the quotation through Moore's "Lalla Rookh," altered it slightly, and interpolated the clause, "whose heart-strings are a lute"; it is from Sale's "Preliminary Discourse" to the Koran.

12. levin, or leven: an archaic word for "lightning."

13. Pleiads, or Pleiades: a group of stars in the constellation Taurus; only six stars of the group are readily visible, but legend tells of a seventh, lost. Read the account of the ancient myth in Gayley's "Classic Myths."

23. skies: the object of "trod."

26. Houri: derived from an Arabian word meaning "to have brilliant black eyes." It is the name in Mohammedan tradition for beautiful nymphs of Paradise, who are to be companions of the pious.

THE CITY IN THE SEA (Page 9)

Published in 1831 as "The Doomed City," in 1836 as "The City of Sin," and several times in 1845 under the above title.

Point out examples of alliteration.

18. Babylon-like walls. The walls of the ancient city of Babylon, on the Euphrates, were famous for massiveness and extent.

THE SLEEPER (Page 11)

Published as "Irene" in 1831 and 1836, and as "The Sleeper" in 1843 and 1845. The theme is Poe's favorite, the death of a beautiful young woman, and the poem is remarkable, even among Poe's, for its melody.

LENORE (Page 13)

Published as "A Pæan" in 1831 and 1836, and as "Lenore" in 1843 and 1845. It was much altered in its numerous revisions.

1. broken is the golden bowl. See Ecclesiastes xii. 6.

2. Stygian river. The Styx was a river of Hades, across which the souls of the dead had to be ferried.

3. Guy De Vere: the mourning lover. It is he who speaks in the second and fourth stanzas.

13. Peccavimus: literally, "we have sinned." This stanza is the reply of the false friends.

THE VALLEY OF UNREST (Page 14)

Published in 1831 as "The Valley Nis," with an obscure allusion to a "Syriac Tale":

Something about Satan's dart--
Something about angel wings--
Much about a broken heart--
All about unhappy things:
But "the Valley Nis" at best
Means "the Valley of Unrest."

Later it was published in magazines and in the 1845 edition, revised and improved, and transformed into a simple landscape picture,--one of the strange, weird, unearthly landscapes so characteristic of Poe.

THE COLISEUM (Page 15)

This poem was submitted in the prize contest in Baltimore in 1833, and would have been successful but for the fact that the author's story, "The Manuscript Found in a Bottle," had taken the first prize in its class. It was republished several times, but not much altered. The usual spelling is "Colosseum." It is very unlikely that Poe ever saw the Colosseum, though it is barely possible his foster parents may have taken him to Rome during the English residence (see Introduction, page xii).

13-14. Apparently a reference to Jesus, but characteristically vague.

15-16. The ancient Chaldeans were famous students of the heavens and practiced fortune telling by the stars; during the Middle Ages astrologers were commonly called "Chaldeans."

17. hero fell. Explain the allusion. Read an account of the Colosseum in a history or reference book.

18. mimic eagle: the eagle on the Roman standard.

20. gilded hair: adorned with golden ornaments.

26-29. arcades, plinths, shafts, entablatures, frieze, cornices. Consult the dictionary and explain these architectural terms.

36. Memnon: a gigantic statue of this Greek hero on the banks of the Nile was said to salute the rising sun with a musical note.

HYMN (Page 16)

Published in 1835 in the tale "Morella," and several times afterward in magazines and collections. As an expression of simple, religious trust and hope, this poem stands quite apart from all others by Poe.

TO ONE IN PARADISE (Page 17)

Published in 1835 as part of the tale called "The Visionary," afterward "The Assignation"; in 1839 in a magazine under the title "To Ianthe in Heaven"; and several times afterward in magazines and in collections. It fits admirably into the story "The Assignation," where it contains this additional stanza, readily understood in its setting:

Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o'er the billow,
From Love to titled age and crime
And an unholy pillow--
From me, and from our misty clime
Where weeps the silver willow.

TO F---- (Page 18)

Appeared in 1835 under the title "To Mary," and in 1842 and 1843, "To One Departed." It is not known to whom these forms were addressed. In 1845 it again appeared with the above title, which is believed to refer to Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood, a poet of the time, whom Poe greatly admired.

TO F----S S. O----D (Page 18)

First appeared in the _Southern Literary Messenger_(1835) as "Lines Written in an Album," addressed to Eliza White, a young daughter of the editor of the _Messenger_; in 1839 the same lines were addressed "To ----," whose name is unknown; and in 1845 they were addressed under the above title to Mrs. Osgood (see note on the preceding poem).

TO ZANTE (Page 18)

Published in 1837, 1843, and 1845. In form this is a regular Shakespearean sonnet. Zante is one of the principal Ionian islands, in ancient times called Zacynthus. Again the poet writes of a fair isle in the sea; point out other instances. Note the fondness for "no more," and find examples in other poems. As usual with Poe, the thread of thought is slight and indefinite; apparently the beautiful island has become "accursed ground" because of the death there of the "maiden that is no more."

1. fairest of all flowers. There is a zantewood, or satinwood, but it does not take its name from this island. Poe associated the name of the island with the hyacinth, but there is no etymological connection. He probably derived his fancy from a passage in Chateaubriand's "Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem," page 53.

13. hyacinthine isle: a reference to the flowers of the island (see preceding note).

14. "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" "Golden Isle! Flower of the Levant!" These are Italian terms for Zante; they occur in the passage in Chateaubriand referred to in the note on line 1.

BRIDAL BALLAD (Page 19)

Published in 1837, 1841, 1845, and greatly improved in revision. The bride remembers her dead lover who died in battle, and wonders fearfully whether "the dead who is forsaken" knows and is unhappy.

SILENCE (Page 20)

Published in 1840, 1843, and 1845.

THE CONQUEROR WORM (Page 21)

Published in 1843 and 1845. The repulsive imagery recurs in several of the tales and poems, and shows one of the most morbid phases of Poe's imagination (see Introduction, page xxiv). It would hardly meet Poe's own test of beauty, but the grim power of this terrible picture is palpable enough.

9. Mimes: actors, who in this case are men; mankind.

13. vast formless things: doubtless the Fates (consult Gayley's "Classic Myths"); at any rate beings who exercise the same powers.

15. condor wings. The condor is a great vulture of South America; the word here suggests the Fates preying on human happiness, health, and life.

18. Phantom: happiness, or perhaps any object of human desire or ambition.

DREAM-LAND (Page 22)

Published in 1844 and 1845. The poem paints another of Poe's extraordinary landscapes.

3. Eidolon: phantom, specter, shade.

6. ultimate dim Thule. "Thule" was used by the ancients to indicate extreme northern regions; the Romans used the phrase "Ultima Thule" to denote the most remote, unknown land. What does the allusion signify here?

THE RAVEN (Page 24)

Published in 1845 in various magazines, first in the New York _Evening Mirror_ of January 29. This is the most famous if not the best of Poe's poems. There is a clear thread of narrative and greater dramatic interest than in any other of the author's poems. If possible, read "The Philosophy of Composition," in which Poe gives a remarkable account of the composition of this poem, an account which is to be accepted, however, as explaining only the mechanical side of the work. This essay is included in Cody's "Best Poems and Essays" (see Bibliography, page xxxi). Read the comment in the Introduction, page xxiv. Note the numerous alliterations.

34. thereat is. Was the idea phrased this way for any other purpose than to make a rhyme? Is it artistic?

38. Raven. Read an account of the bird in a natural history or an encyclopedia; it is frequently mentioned in English literature as a bird of ill omen.

41. Pallas: Minerva, goddess of wisdom. Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths." Is a bust of Pallas appropriate for a library?

47. Plutonian: from Pluto, god of the underworld.

64, 65. burden: thought or theme.

76-77. gloated ... gloating. It is impossible to say just what is suggested. It is characteristically vague. Find other examples in this poem.

80. tinkled on the tufted floor. Not very easy to imagine. In "Ligeia," Poe speaks of "carpets of tufted gold," apparently meaning fabrics of very thick and rich material. Perhaps we may think of the tinkling as proceeding from tiny bells.

81. "Wretch," etc. The lover addresses himself.

82. nepenthe: a name given in Homer's "Odyssey" to a drug offered to Helen in Egypt, the effect of which was to banish all grief and pain. Later the term was sometimes used for opium.

89. balm in Gilead. Gilead is a district on the banks of the Jordan and the "balm" an herb of reputed medicinal value. The allusion here is to Jeremiah viii.22: "Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there?" The lover means to ask if there is any remedy for his sorrow, any consolation. Perhaps he means, "Is there any solace after death?" or "Is there any solace either in this world or the next?"

93. Aidenn: Eden, Paradise, from the Arabic form _Adn_; coined by Poe for the rhyme.

101. This line, Poe said in "The Philosophy of Composition," first betrays clearly the allegorical nature of the poem.

106. the lamp-light o'er him streaming. In answer to criticism on this line, Poe explained, "My conception was that of the bracket candelabrum affixed against the wall, high up above the door and bust, as is often seen in the English palaces, and even in some of the better houses of New York."

107, 108. In these last lines the allegory is fully revealed.

EULALIE (Page 29)

Published in 1845 with the subtitle, "A Song."

19. Astarte. See note on line 37 of "Ulalume," page 189.

TO M.L. S----- (Page 30)

Published March 13, 1847, and addressed to Mrs. Marie Louise Shew, who had been a veritable angel of mercy in the Poe home. She relieved the poverty and helped to care for Virginia (who died January 29), and afterward nursed Poe himself during his severe illness. Mrs. Shew had had some medical training and probably saved Poe's life. This brief poem is instinct with a gratitude and reverence easy to understand, and is, for Poe, unusually spontaneous.

ULALUME (Page 30)

Published in December, 1847, and in January, 1848. The earlier form contained an additional stanza, afterward wisely omitted. Read the comment on the poem in the Introduction, pages xxiv-xxv.

5. Immemorial: properly means extending indefinitely into the past. Poe may mean that the year has seemed endless to him, but apparently he uses the word in the sense of memorable.

6, 7. Auber rhymes with October, Weir with year; the names were coined by Poe for rhyme and tone color. Note the resemblance of "Weir" to "weird."

8. tarn: a small mountain lake. It is used provincially in England to mean a boggy or marshy tract. Poe used the word to signify a dark, stagnant pool. Cf. "The Fall of the House of Usher," page 49.

11. cypress. What is its significance?

12. Psyche: soul. Cf. note on line 14 of "To Helen," page 183.

14. scoriac: a very rare word, from _scoria_ (lava).

16. Yaanek: another specially coined word.

35. crescent: suggesting hope.

37, 39. Astarte: a Phoenician goddess, as the deity of love corresponding to Venus (Aphrodite), and as moon goddess to Dian, or Diana (Artemis). But Diana was chaste and cold to the advances of lovers, which explains "she (Astarte) is warmer than Dian."

43. where the worm never dies: implies the gnawing of unending grief. Cf. Isaiah lxvi. 24, and Mark ix. 44, 46, 48.

44. The Lion: the constellation Leo.

64. sibyllic: usually "sibylline," prophetic; from "sibyl." Consult Gayley's "Classic Myths."

179. legended tomb: having on it an inscription.

TO ---- ---- (Page 33)

Published in March, 1848, and is another tribute to Mrs. Shew. See note on "To M.L. S-----," page 188.

9-10. The quotation is from George Peele's "David and Bethsabe," an English drama published in 1599:

Or let the dew be sweeter far than that
That hangs, like chains of pearl, on Hermon hill.

14-15. Cf. the poem "Israfel," and the notes on it.

AN ENIGMA (Page 34)

Published in March, 1848. To find the name, read the first letter of the first line, the second letter of the second line, and so on. In form this is a sonnet irregular in rhyme scheme.

1. Solomon Don Dunce: a fanciful name for a stupid person.

6. Petrarchan stuff: of or by Petrarch (1304-1374), a famous Italian writer of sonnets.

10. tuckermanities: a contemptuous allusion to the poetic efforts of Henry T. Tuckerman, a New England writer of the day.

14. dear names: Sarah Anna Lewis, a verse writer of the day, whom Poe admired.

TO HELEN (Page 35)

Published in November, 1848; addressed to Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman (see Introduction, page xvii). Although her engagement to marry Poe was broken off, she continued to admire him and was faithful to his memory after his death. The poem was written before Poe met Mrs. Whitman, and is said to have been suggested by the poet's having caught a glimpse of the lady walking in a garden by moonlight.

48. Dian: Diana, the moon goddess.

66. Venuses: refers at once to the planet Venus and to Venus, goddess of love.

A VALENTINE (Page 37)

Published in 1849. The name is found as in "An Enigma," by reading the first letter of the first line, the second of the second, and so on.

2. twins of Leda: Castor and Pollux, two stars in the constellation Gemini. For the myth consult Gayley's "Classic Myths."

3. her own sweet name: Frances Sargent Osgood. See note on the lines "To F---- ," page 185.

10. Gordian knot. Explain this; consult an encyclopedia.

14. perdus: lost, a French word introduced to rhyme with "too."

17. lying: used in a double sense.

18. Mendez Ferdinando Pinto, a Portuguese traveler (1509-1583), was said to have been the first white man to visit Japan. He wrote an account of his travels, which at the time was considered mere romancing.

FOR ANNIE (Page 37)

Published in 1849, and addressed to Mrs. Richmond of Lowell, Massachusetts. This is the "Annie" so frequently referred to in biographies of Poe, who also figures in his correspondence. Of all the women associated with Poe's later years (see Introduction, pages ), "Annie" was the object of his most sincere and ardent friendship, and was his confidant in all his troubles,--including the courtship of Mrs. Whitman. Poe and Mrs. Clemm were frequent visitors at her home, and the latter found shelter there for a time after her "Eddie's" death.