The Works of Edgar Allan Poe T
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe T
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe T
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The Works of Edgar Allan Poe
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wings are wanting. Talent sticks fast to earth, and its most
perfect works have still one- foot of clay. Genius claims
kindred with the very workings of Nature herself, so that
a sunset shall seem like a quotation from Dante, and if
Shakespeare be read in the very presence of the sea itself,
his verses shall but seem nobler for the sublime criticism
of ocean. Talent may make friends for itself, but only
genius can give to its creations the divine power of
winning love and veneration. Enthusiasm cannot cling to
what itself is unenthusiastic, nor will he ever have
disciples who has not himself impulsive zeal enough to be
a disciple. Great wits are allied to madness only inasmuch
as they are possessed and carried away by their demon,
While talent keeps him, as Paracelsus did, securely
prisoned in the pommel of his sword. To the eye of
genius, the veil of the spiritual world is ever rent asunder
that it may perceive the ministers of good and evil who
throng continually around it. No man of mere talent ever
flung his inkstand at the devil.
When we say that Mr. Poe had genius, we do not mean
to say that he has produced evidence of the highest. But to
say that he possesses it at all is to say that he needs only
zeal, industry, and a reverence for the trust reposed in
him, to achieve the proudest triumphs and the greenest
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building castles in the air, and was rather glad to get rid of
me. It was a dark night when I bade her good-bye, and
taking with me, as aides-de-camp, the three creditors who
had given me so much trouble, we carried the balloon,
with the car and accoutrements, by a roundabout way, to
the station where the other articles were deposited. We
there found them all unmolested, and I proceeded
immediately to business.
‘It was the first of April. The night, as I said before,
was dark; there was not a star to be seen; and a drizzling
rain, falling at intervals, rendered us very uncomfortable.
But my chief anxiety was concerning the balloon, which,
in spite of the varnish with which it was defended, began
to grow rather heavy with the moisture; the powder also
was liable to damage. I therefore kept my three duns
working with great diligence, pounding down ice around
the central cask, and stirring the acid in the others. They
did not cease, however, importuning me with questions as
to what I intended to do with all this apparatus, and
expressed much dissatisfaction at the terrible labor I made
them undergo. They could not perceive, so they said, what
good was likely to result from their getting wet to the
skin, merely to take a part in such horrible incantations. I
began to get uneasy, and worked away with all my might,
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however, until long after this time that the rays of the
setting sun ceased to illumine the balloon; and this
circumstance, although of course fully anticipated, did not
fail to give me an infinite deal of pleasure. It was evident
that, in the morning, I should behold the rising luminary
many hours at least before the citizens of Rotterdam, in
spite of their situation so much farther to the eastward,
and thus, day after day, in proportion to the height
ascended, would I enjoy the light of the sun for a longer
and a longer period. I now determined to keep a journal of
my passage, reckoning the days from one to twenty-four
hours continuously, without taking into consideration the
intervals of darkness.
‘At ten o’clock, feeling sleepy, I determined to lie
down for the rest of the night; but here a difficulty
presented itself, which, obvious as it may appear, had
escaped my attention up to the very moment of which I
am now speaking. If I went to sleep as I proposed, how
could the atmosphere in the chamber be regenerated in the
interim? To breathe it for more than an hour, at the
farthest, would be a matter of impossibility, or, if even
this term could be extended to an hour and a quarter, the
most ruinous consequences might ensue. The
consideration of this dilemma gave me no little
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no room for any similar idea; for I did not wish to keep
awake, but to be aroused from slumber at regular intervals
of time. I at length hit upon the following expedient,
which, simple as it may seem, was hailed by me, at the
moment of discovery, as an invention fully equal to that
of the telescope, the steam-engine, or the art of printing
itself.
‘It is necessary to premise, that the balloon, at the
elevation now attained, continued its course upward with
an even and undeviating ascent, and the car consequently
followed with a steadiness so perfect that it would have
been impossible to detect in it the slightest vacillation
whatever. This circumstance favored me greatly in the
project I now determined to adopt. My supply of water
had been put on board in kegs containing five gallons
each, and ranged very securely around the interior of the
car. I unfastened one of these, and taking two ropes tied
them tightly across the rim of the wicker-work from one
side to the other; placing them about a foot apart and
parallel so as to form a kind of shelf, upon which I placed
the keg, and steadied it in a horizontal position. About
eight inches immediately below these ropes, and four feet
from the bottom of the car I fastened another shelf — but
made of thin plank, being the only similar piece of wood I
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had. Upon this latter shelf, and exactly beneath one of the
rims of the keg, a small earthern pitcher was deposited. I
now bored a hole in the end of the keg over the pitcher,
and fitted in a plug of soft wood, cut in a tapering or
conical shape. This plug I pushed in or pulled out, as
might happen, until, after a few experiments, it arrived at
that exact degree of tightness, at which the water, oozing
from the hole, and falling into the pitcher below, would
fill the latter to the brim in the period of sixty minutes.
This, of course, was a matter briefly and easily
ascertained, by noticing the proportion of the pitcher
filled in any given time. Having arranged all this, the rest
of the plan is obvious. My bed was so contrived upon the
floor of the car, as to bring my head, in lying down,
immediately below the mouth of the pitcher. It was
evident, that, at the expiration of an hour, the pitcher,
getting full, would be forced to run over, and to run over
at the mouth, which was somewhat lower than the rim. It
was also evident, that the water thus falling from a height
of more than four feet, could not do otherwise than fall
upon my face, and that the sure consequences would be,
to waken me up instantaneously, even from the soundest
slumber in the world.
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off close to his head, has been missing for several days
from the neighboring city of Bruges.
Well — what of that?
Thirdly. That the newspapers which were stuck all
over the little balloon were newspapers of Holland, and
therefore could not have been made in the moon. They
were dirty papers — very dirty — and Gluck, the printer,
would take his Bible oath to their having been printed in
Rotterdam.
He was mistaken — undoubtedly — mistaken.
Fourthly, That Hans Pfaall himself, the druken villain,
and the three very idle gentlemen styled his creditors,
were all seen, no longer than two or three days ago, in a
tippling house in the suburbs, having just returned, with
money in their pockets, from a trip beyond the sea.
Don’t believe it — don’t believe a word of it.
Lastly. That it is an opinion very generally received, or
which ought to be generally received, that the College of
Astronomers in the city of Rotterdam, as well as other
colleges in all other parts of the world, — not to mention
colleges and astronomers in general, — are, to say the
least of the matter, not a whit better, nor greater, nor wiser
than they ought to be.
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THE GOLD-BUG
What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad !
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
—All in the Wrong.
MANY years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr.
William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family,
and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes
had reduced him to want. To avoid the mortification
consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the
city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at
Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. This
Island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than
the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at
no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from
the main land by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its
way through a wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite
resort of the marsh hen. The vegetation, as might be
supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any
magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity,
where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some
miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by
the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be
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‘De bug, - I’m berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit
somewhere bout de head by dat goole-bug.’
‘And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a
supposition?’
‘Claws enuff, massa, and mouth too. I nebber did see
sick a deuced bug - he kick and he bite ebery ting what
cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to
let him go gin mighty quick, I tell you - den was de time
he must ha got de bite. I did n’t like de look oh de bug
mouff, myself, no how, so I would n’t take hold ob him
wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I
found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he
mouff - dat was de way.’
‘And you think, then, that your master was really bitten
by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick?’
‘I do n’t tink noffin about it - I nose it. What make him
dream bout de goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de
goole-bug? Ise heerd bout dem goole-bugs fore dis.’
‘But how do you know he dreams about gold?’
‘How I know? why cause he talk about it in he sleep -
dat’s how I nose.’
‘Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate
circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from
you to-day?’
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‘Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far - tis
dead limb putty much all de way.’
‘Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?’ cried
Legrand in a quavering voice.
‘Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail - done up for
sartain - done departed dis here life.’
‘What in the name heaven shall I do?’ asked Legrand,
seemingly in the greatest distress. ‘Do!’ said I, glad of an
opportunity to interpose a word, ‘why come home and go
to bed. Come now! - that’s a fine fellow. It’s getting late,
and, besides, you remember your promise.’
‘Jupiter,’ cried he, without heeding me in the least, ‘do
you hear me?’
‘Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.’
‘Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if
you think it very rotten.’
‘Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,’ replied the negro in a
few moments, ‘but not so berry rotten as mought be.
Mought ventur out leetle way pon de limb by myself,
dat’s true.’
‘By yourself! - what do you mean?’
‘Why I mean de bug. ‘Tis berry hebby bug. Spose I
drop him down fuss, and den de limb won’t break wid just
de weight ob one nigger.’
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the combination ;48 occurs - not far from the end of the
cipher. We know that the ; immediately ensuing is the
commencement of a word, and, of the six characters
succeeding this ‘the,’ we are cognizant of no less than
five. Let us set these characters down, thus, by the letters
we know them to represent, leaving a space for the
unknown -
t eeth.
‘Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the ‘th,’ as
forming no portion of the word commencing with the first
t; since, by experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter
adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no word can be
formed of which this th can be a part. We are thus
narrowed into
t ee,
and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as
before, we arrive at the word ‘tree,’ as the sole possible
reading. We thus gain another letter, r, represented by (,
with the words ‘the tree’ in juxtaposition.
‘Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we
again see the combination ;48, and employ it by way of
termination to what immediately precedes. We have thus
this arrangement:
the tree ;4(‡?34 the,
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position of the peg nearest the tree; and had the treasure
been beneath the ‘shot,’ the error would have been of
little moment; but ‘the shot,’ together with the nearest
point of the tree, were merely two points for the
establishment of a line of direction; of course the error,
however trivial in the beginning, increased as we
proceeded with the line, and by the time we had gone fifty
feet, threw us quite off the scent. But for my deep-seated
impressions that treasure was here somewhere actually
buried, we might have had all our labor in vain.’
‘But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in
swinging the beetle - how excessively odd! I was sure you
were mad. And why did you insist upon letting fall the
bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull?’
‘Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your
evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to
punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober
mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and for
this reason I let it fall it from the tree. An observation of
yours about its great weight suggested the latter idea.’
‘Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which
puzzles me. What are we to make of the skeletons found
in the hole?’
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mutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were
more or less shattered. The left tibia much splintered, as
well as all the ribs of the left side. Whole body dreadfully
bruised and discolored. It was not possible to say how the
injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a
broad bar of iron - a chair - any large, heavy, and obtuse
weapon would have produced such results, if wielded by
the hands of a very powerful man. No woman could have
inflicted the blows with any weapon. The head of the
deceased, when seen by witness, was entirely separated
from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throat
had evidently been cut with some very sharp instrument -
probably with a razor.
‘Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M.
Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the testimony,
and the opinions of M. Dumas.
‘Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although
several other persons were examined. A murder so
mysterious, and so perplexing in all its particulars, was
never before committed in Paris - if indeed a murder has
been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault - an
unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not,
however, the shadow of a clew apparent.’
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The front door of the house had been left open, and the
visiter had entered, without ringing, and advanced several
steps upon the staircase. Now, however, he seemed to
hesitate. Presently we heard him descending. Dupin was
moving quickly to the door, when we again heard him
coming up. He did not turn back a second time, but
stepped up with decision, and rapped at the door of our
chamber.
‘Come in,’ said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty tone.
A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently, - a tall,
stout, and muscular-looking person, with a certain dare-
devil expression of countenance, not altogether
unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was more
than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He had with
him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise
unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and bade us ‘good
evening,’ in French accents, which, although somewhat
Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of a
Parisian origin.
‘Sit down, my freind,’ said Dupin. ‘I suppose you have
called about the Ourang-Outang. Upon my word, I almost
envy you the possession of him; a remarkably fine, and no
doubt a very valuable animal. How old do you suppose
him to be?’
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pistol from his bosom and placed it, without the least
flurry, upon the table.
The sailor’s face flushed up as if he were struggling
with suffocation. He started to his feet and grasped his
cudgel, but the next moment he fell back into his seat,
trembling violently, and with the countenance of death
itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom
of my heart.
‘My friend,’ said Dupin, in a kind tone, ‘you are
alarming yourself unnecessarily - you are indeed. We
mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the honor of a
gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you no
injury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the
atrocities in the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to
deny that you are in some measure implicated in them.
From what I have already said, you must know that I have
had means of information about this matter - means of
which you could never have dreamed. Now the thing
stands thus. You have done nothing which you could have
avoided - nothing, certainly, which renders you culpable.
You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might
have robbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal.
You have no reason for concealment. On the other hand,
you are bound by every principle of honor to confess all
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longer period than one or two days; and that thus there is
good ground for suspicion, in spite of the dogmatic
ignorance of Le Soleil, that they were, at a comparatively
late date, deposited where found.
‘But there are still other and stronger reasons for
believing them so deposited, than any which I have as yet
urged. And, now, let me beg your notice to the highly
artificial arrangement of the articles. On the upper stone
lay a white petticoat; on the second a silk scarf; scattered
around, were a parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief
bearing the name, ‘Marie Rogêt.’ Here is just such an
arrangement as would naturally be made by a not over-
acute person wishing to dispose the articles naturally. But
it is by no means a really natural arrangement. I should
rather have looked to see the things all lying on the
ground and trampled under foot. In the narrow limits of
that bower, it would have been scarcely possible that the
petticoat and scarf should have retained a position upon
the stones, when subjected to the brushing to and fro of
many struggling persons. ‘There was evidence,’ it is said,
‘of a struggle; and the earth was trampled, the bushes
were broken,’ - but the petticoat and the scarf are found
deposited as if upon shelves. ‘The pieces of the frock torn
out by the bushes were about three inches wide and six
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inches long. One part was the hem of the frock and it had
been mended. They looked like strips torn off.’ Here,
inadvertently, Le Soleil has employed an exceedingly
suspicious phrase. The pieces, as described, do indeed
‘look like strips torn off;’ but purposely and by hand. It is
one of the rarest of accidents that a piece is ‘torn off,’
from any garment such as is now in question, by the
agency of a thorn. From the very nature of such fabrics, a
thorn or nail becoming entangled in them, tears them
rectangularly - divides them into two longitudinal rents, at
right angles with each other, and meeting at an apex
where the thorn enters - but it is scarcely possible to
conceive the piece ‘torn off.’ I never so knew it, nor did
you. To tear a piece off from such fabric, two distinct
forces, in different directions, will be, in almost every
case, required. If there be two edges to the fabric - if, for
example, it be a pocket- handkerchief, and it is desired to
tear from it a slip, then, and then only, will the one force
serve the purpose. But in the present case the question is
of a dress, presenting but one edge. To tear a piece from
the interior, where no edge is presented, could only be
effected by a miracle through the agency of thorns, and no
one thorn could accomplish it. But, even where an edge is
presented, two thorns will be necessary, operating, the
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have adduced it, has been with the view, first, to show the
folly of the positive and headlong assertions of Le Soleil,
but secondly and chiefly, to bring you, by the most natural
route, to a further contemplation of the doubt whether this
assassination has, or has not been, the work of a gang.
‘We will resume this question by mere allusion to the
revolting details of the surgeon examined at the inquest. It
is only necessary to say that is published inferences, in
regard to the number of ruffians, have been properly
ridiculed as unjust and totally baseless, by all the
reputable anatomists of Paris. Not that the matter might
not have been as inferred, but that there was no ground for
the inference: - was there not much for another?
‘Let us reflect now upon ‘the traces of a struggle;’ and
let me ask what these traces have been supposed to
demonstrate. A gang. But do they not rather demonstrate
the absence of a gang? What struggle could have taken
place - what struggle so violent and so enduring as to
have left its ‘traces’ in all directions - between a weak and
defenceless girl and the gang of ruffians imagined? The
silent grasp of a few rough arms and all would have been
over. The victim must have been absolutely passive at
their will. You will here bear in mind that the arguments
urged against the thicket as the scene, are applicable in
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THE BALLOON-HOAX
[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 Charlestown, 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!
The subjoined jeu d’esprit with the preceding heading
in magnificent capitals, well interspersed with notes of
admiration, was originally published, as matter of fact, in
the ‘New York Sun,’ a daily newspaper, and therein fully
subserved the purpose of creating indigestible aliment for
the quidnuncs during the few hours intervening between a
couple of the Charleston mails. The rush for the ‘sole
paper which had the news,’ was something beyond even
the prodigious ; and, in fact, if (as some assert) the
‘Victoria’ did not absolutely accomplish the voyage
recorded, it will be difficult to assign a reason why she
should not have accomplished it.]
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steadily and strongly from the north-east all day and so far
fortune seems bent upon favoring us. Just before day, we
were all somewhat alarmed at some odd noises and
concussions in the balloon, accompanied with the
apparent rapid subsidence of the whole machine. These
phenomena were occasioned by the expansion of the gas,
through increase of heat in the atmosphere, and the
consequent disruption of the minute particles of ice with
which the network had become encrusted during the
night. Threw down several bottles to the vessels below.
Saw one of them picked up by a large ship - seemingly
one of the New York line packets. Endeavored to make
out her name, but could not be sure of it. Mr. Osbornes
telescope made it out something like ‘Atalanta.’ It is now
12 ,at night, and we are still going nearly west, at a rapid
pace. The sea is peculiarly phosphorescent.
‘P.S. [By Mr. Ainsworth.] It is now 2, A.M., and
nearly calm, as well as I can judge - but it is very difficult
to determine this point, since we move with the air so
completely. I have not slept since quitting Wheal-Vor, but
can stand it no longer, and must take a nap. We cannot be
far from the American coast.
‘Tuesday, the 9th. [Mr. Ainsworth’s MS.] One, P.M.
We are in full view of the low coast of South Carolina.
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gull; and the colossal waters rear their heads above us like
demons of the deep, but like demons confined to simple
threats and forbidden to destroy. I am led to attribute
these frequent escapes to the only natural cause which can
account for such effect. — I must suppose the ship to be
within the influence of some strong current, or impetuous
under-tow.
********
I have seen the captain face to face, and in his own
cabin — but, as I expected, he paid me no attention.
Although in his appearance there is, to a casual observer,
nothing which might bespeak him more or less than man-
still a feeling of irrepressible reverence and awe mingled
with the sensation of wonder with which I regarded him.
In stature he is nearly my own height; that is, about five
feet eight inches. He is of a well-knit and compact frame
of body, neither robust nor remarkably otherwise. But it is
the singularity of the expression which reigns upon the
face — it is the intense, the wonderful, the thrilling
evidence of old age, so utter, so extreme, which excites
within my spirit a sense — a sentiment ineffable. His
forehead, although little wrinkled, seems to bear upon it
the stamp of a myriad of years. — His gray hairs are
records of the past, and his grayer eyes are Sybils of the
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of his wife. And he would not see that the tints which he
spread upon the canvas were drawn from the cheeks of
her who sate beside him. And when many weeks bad
passed, and but little remained to do, save one brush upon
the mouth and one tint upon the eye, the spirit of the lady
again flickered up as the flame within the socket of the
lamp. And then the brush was given, and then the tint was
placed; and, for one moment, the painter stood entranced
before the work which he had wrought; but in the next,
while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and very pallid,
and aghast, and crying with a loud voice, ‘This is indeed
Life itself!’ turned suddenly to regard his beloved: — She
was dead!
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