THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE
What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, although puzzling questions, are not beyond _all_ conjecture.
--_Sir Thomas Browne._
The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves,but little susceptible of analysis. We appreciate them only in theireffects. We know of them, among other things, that they are always totheir possessor, when inordinately possessed, a source of the liveliestenjoyment. As the strong man exults in his physical ability, delightingin such exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories theanalyst in that moral activity which _disentangles._ He derives pleasurefrom even the most trivial occupations bringing his talent into play. Heis fond of enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics; exhibiting in hissolutions of each a degree of _acumen_ which appears to the ordinaryapprehension præternatural. His results, brought about by the very souland essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of intuition.
The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invigorated by mathematicalstudy, and especially by that highest branch of it which, unjustly, andmerely on account of its retrograde operations, has been called, asif _par excellence_, analysis. Yet to calculate is not in itself toanalyse. A chess-player, for example, does the one without effort atthe other. It follows that the game of chess, in its effects upon mentalcharacter, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now writing a treatise,but simply prefacing a somewhat peculiar narrative by observations verymuch at random; I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that thehigher powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly and moreusefully tasked by the unostentatious game of draughts than by all theelaborate frivolity of chess. In this latter, where the pieces havedifferent and _bizarre_ motions, with various and variable values, whatis only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for what is profound.The _attention_ is here called powerfully into play. If it flag for aninstant, an oversight is committed resulting in injury or defeat. Thepossible moves being not only manifold but involute, the chances of suchoversights are multiplied; and in nine cases out of ten it is themore concentrative rather than the more acute player who conquers. Indraughts, on the contrary, where the moves are _unique_ and have butlittle variation, the probabilities of inadvertence are diminished, andthe mere attention being left comparatively unemployed, what advantagesare obtained by either party are obtained by superior _acumen_. To beless abstract--Let us suppose a game of draughts where the pieces arereduced to four kings, and where, of course, no oversight is to beexpected. It is obvious that here the victory can be decided (theplayers being at all equal) only by some _recherché_ movement, theresult of some strong exertion of the intellect. Deprived of ordinaryresources, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent,identifies himself therewith, and not unfrequently sees thus, at aglance, the sole methods (sometime indeed absurdly simple ones) by whichhe may seduce into error or hurry into miscalculation.
Whist has long been noted for its influence upon what is termed thecalculating power; and men of the highest order of intellect have beenknown to take an apparently unaccountable delight in it, while eschewingchess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is nothing of a similar natureso greatly tasking the faculty of analysis. The best chess-player inChristendom _may_ be little more than the best player of chess; butproficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all those moreimportant undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When I sayproficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which includes acomprehension of _all_ the sources whence legitimate advantage may bederived. These are not only manifold but multiform, and lie frequentlyamong recesses of thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinaryunderstanding. To observe attentively is to remember distinctly; and,so far, the concentrative chess-player will do very well at whist; whilethe rules of Hoyle (themselves based upon the mere mechanism of thegame) are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. Thus to have aretentive memory, and to proceed by “the book,” are points commonlyregarded as the sum total of good playing. But it is in matters beyondthe limits of mere rule that the skill of the analyst is evinced. Hemakes, in silence, a host of observations and inferences. So, perhaps,do his companions; and the difference in the extent of the informationobtained, lies not so much in the validity of the inference as in thequality of the observation. The necessary knowledge is that of _what_ toobserve. Our player confines himself not at all; nor, because the gameis the object, does he reject deductions from things external to thegame. He examines the countenance of his partner, comparing it carefullywith that of each of his opponents. He considers the mode of assortingthe cards in each hand; often counting trump by trump, and honor byhonor, through the glances bestowed by their holders upon each. He notesevery variation of face as the play progresses, gathering a fundof thought from the differences in the expression of certainty, ofsurprise, of triumph, or of chagrin. From the manner of gathering upa trick he judges whether the person taking it can make another in thesuit. He recognises what is played through feint, by the air withwhich it is thrown upon the table. A casual or inadvertent word; theaccidental dropping or turning of a card, with the accompanying anxietyor carelessness in regard to its concealment; the counting of thetricks, with the order of their arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation,eagerness or trepidation--all afford, to his apparently intuitiveperception, indications of the true state of affairs. The first twoor three rounds having been played, he is in full possession of thecontents of each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards with asabsolute a precision of purpose as if the rest of the party had turnedoutward the faces of their own.
The analytical power should not be confounded with ample ingenuity; forwhile the analyst is necessarily ingenious, the ingenious man is oftenremarkably incapable of analysis. The constructive or combining power,by which ingenuity is usually manifested, and to which the phrenologists(I believe erroneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing it aprimitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in those whose intellectbordered otherwise upon idiocy, as to have attracted general observationamong writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the analytic abilitythere exists a difference far greater, indeed, than that between thefancy and the imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous.It will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, andthe _truly_ imaginative never otherwise than analytic.
The narrative which follows will appear to the reader somewhat in thelight of a commentary upon the propositions just advanced.
Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the summer of 18--, Ithere became acquainted with a Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This younggentleman was of an excellent--indeed of an illustrious family, but, bya variety of untoward events, had been reduced to such poverty that theenergy of his character succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestirhimself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his fortunes.By courtesy of his creditors, there still remained in his possession asmall remnant of his patrimony; and, upon the income arising from this,he managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to procure the necessariesof life, without troubling himself about its superfluities. Books,indeed, were his sole luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained.
Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the Rue Montmartre, wherethe accident of our both being in search of the same very rare and veryremarkable volume, brought us into closer communion. We saw each otheragain and again. I was deeply interested in the little family historywhich he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman indulgeswhenever mere self is his theme. I was astonished, too, at the vastextent of his reading; and, above all, I felt my soul enkindled withinme by the wild fervor, and the vivid freshness of his imagination.Seeking in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the society ofsuch a man would be to me a treasure beyond price; and this feeling Ifrankly confided to him. It was at length arranged that we should livetogether during my stay in the city; and as my worldly circumstanceswere somewhat less embarrassed than his own, I was permitted to beat the expense of renting, and furnishing in a style which suited therather fantastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and grotesquemansion, long deserted through superstitions into which we did notinquire, and tottering to its fall in a retired and desolate portion ofthe Faubourg St. Germain.
Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, weshould have been regarded as madmen--although, perhaps, as madmen ofa harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors.Indeed the locality of our retirement had been carefully kept a secretfrom my own former associates; and it had been many years since Dupinhad ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed within ourselvesalone.
It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else shall I call it?) tobe enamored of the Night for her own sake; and into this _bizarrerie_,as into all his others, I quietly fell; giving myself up to his wildwhims with a perfect _abandon_. The sable divinity would not herselfdwell with us always; but we could counterfeit her presence. At thefirst dawn of the morning we closed all the messy shutters of our oldbuilding; lighting a couple of tapers which, strongly perfumed, threwout only the ghastliest and feeblest of rays. By the aid of these wethen busied our souls in dreams--reading, writing, or conversing, untilwarned by the clock of the advent of the true Darkness. Then we salliedforth into the streets arm in arm, continuing the topics of the day, orroaming far and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild lightsand shadows of the populous city, that infinity of mental excitementwhich quiet observation can afford.
At such times I could not help remarking and admiring (although fromhis rich ideality I had been prepared to expect it) a peculiar analyticability in Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in itsexercise--if not exactly in its display--and did not hesitate to confessthe pleasure thus derived. He boasted to me, with a low chuckling laugh,that most men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bosoms,and was wont to follow up such assertions by direct and very startlingproofs of his intimate knowledge of my own. His manner at these momentswas frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expression; while hisvoice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a treble which would have soundedpetulantly but for the deliberateness and entire distinctness of theenunciation. Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditativelyupon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with thefancy of a double Dupin--the creative and the resolvent.
Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, that I am detailingany mystery, or penning any romance. What I have described in theFrenchman, was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a diseasedintelligence. But of the character of his remarks at the periods inquestion an example will best convey the idea.
We were strolling one night down a long dirty street in the vicinity ofthe Palais Royal. Being both, apparently, occupied with thought, neitherof us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. All at onceDupin broke forth with these words:
“He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do better for the_Théâtre des Variétés_.”
“There can be no doubt of that,” I replied unwittingly, and not at firstobserving (so much had I been absorbed in reflection) the extraordinarymanner in which the speaker had chimed in with my meditations. Inan instant afterward I recollected myself, and my astonishment wasprofound.
“Dupin,” said I, gravely, “this is beyond my comprehension. I do nothesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. Howwas it possible you should know I was thinking of -----?” Here I paused,to ascertain beyond a doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought.
--“of Chantilly,” said he, “why do you pause? You were remarking toyourself that his diminutive figure unfitted him for tragedy.”
This was precisely what had formed the subject of my reflections.Chantilly was a _quondam_ cobbler of the Rue St. Denis, who, becomingstage-mad, had attempted the _rôle_ of Xerxes, in Crébillon’s tragedy socalled, and been notoriously Pasquinaded for his pains.
“Tell me, for Heaven’s sake,” I exclaimed, “the method--if method thereis--by which you have been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter.” Infact I was even more startled than I would have been willing to express.
“It was the fruiterer,” replied my friend, “who brought you to theconclusion that the mender of soles was not of sufficient height forXerxes _et id genus omne_.”
“The fruiterer!--you astonish me--I know no fruiterer whomsoever.”
“The man who ran up against you as we entered the street--it may havebeen fifteen minutes ago.”
I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carrying upon his head alarge basket of apples, had nearly thrown me down, by accident, as wepassed from the Rue C ---- into the thoroughfare where we stood; butwhat this had to do with Chantilly I could not possibly understand.
There was not a particle of _charlatanerie_ about Dupin. “I willexplain,” he said, “and that you may comprehend all clearly, we willfirst retrace the course of your meditations, from the moment in whichI spoke to you until that of the _rencontre_ with the fruiterer inquestion. The larger links of the chain run thus--Chantilly, Orion, Dr.Nichols, Epicurus, Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer.”
There are few persons who have not, at some period of their lives,amused themselves in retracing the steps by which particular conclusionsof their own minds have been attained. The occupation is often full ofinterest and he who attempts it for the first time is astonished bythe apparently illimitable distance and incoherence between thestarting-point and the goal. What, then, must have been my amazementwhen I heard the Frenchman speak what he had just spoken, and when Icould not help acknowledging that he had spoken the truth. He continued:
“We had been talking of horses, if I remember aright, just beforeleaving the Rue C ----. This was the last subject we discussed. As wecrossed into this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon hishead, brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile of paving stonescollected at a spot where the causeway is undergoing repair. You steppedupon one of the loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained your ankle,appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, turned to look at thepile, and then proceeded in silence. I was not particularly attentive towhat you did; but observation has become with me, of late, a species ofnecessity.
“You kept your eyes upon the ground--glancing, with a petulantexpression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw youwere still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alleycalled Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of experiment, with theoverlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up,and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured theword ‘stereotomy,’ a term very affectedly applied to this species ofpavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself ‘stereotomy’ withoutbeing brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus;and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentionedto you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guessesof that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebularcosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward tothe great _nebula_ in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would doso. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followedyour steps. But in that bitter _tirade_ upon Chantilly, which appearedin yesterday’s ‘_Musée_,’ the satirist, making some disgracefulallusions to the cobbler’s change of name upon assuming the buskin,quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the line
Perdidit antiquum litera sonum.
“I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly writtenUrion; and, from certain pungencies connected with this explanation, Iwas aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore,that you would not fail to combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly.That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile whichpassed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler’s immolation. Sofar, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourselfup to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon thediminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted yourmeditations to remark that as, in fact, he was a very littlefellow--that Chantilly--he would do better at the _Théâtre desVariétés_.”
Not long after this, we were looking over an evening edition of the“Gazette des Tribunaux,” when the following paragraphs arrested ourattention.
“EXTRAORDINARY MURDERS.--This morning, about three o’clock, theinhabitants of the Quartier St. Roch were aroused from sleep by asuccession of terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourthstory of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in the sole occupancy ofone Madame L’Espanaye, and her daughter Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye.After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to procure admissionin the usual manner, the gateway was broken in with a crowbar, and eightor ten of the neighbors entered accompanied by two _gendarmes_. By thistime the cries had ceased; but, as the party rushed up the firstflight of stairs, two or more rough voices in angry contention weredistinguished and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house.As the second landing was reached, these sounds, also, had ceased andeverything remained perfectly quiet. The party spread themselves andhurried from room to room. Upon arriving at a large back chamber inthe fourth story, (the door of which, being found locked, with the keyinside, was forced open,) a spectacle presented itself which struckevery one present not less with horror than with astonishment.
“The apartment was in the wildest disorder--the furniture broken andthrown about in all directions. There was only one bedstead; and fromthis the bed had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the floor.On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth were two orthree long and thick tresses of grey human hair, also dabbled in blood,and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon the floor werefound four Napoleons, an ear-ring of topaz, three large silver spoons,three smaller of_ métal d’Alger_, and two bags, containing nearly fourthousand francs in gold. The drawers of a _bureau_, which stood inone corner were open, and had been, apparently, rifled, although manyarticles still remained in them. A small iron safe was discovered underthe _bed_ (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the key still inthe door. It had no contents beyond a few old letters, and other papersof little consequence.
“Of Madame L’Espanaye no traces were here seen; but an unusual quantityof soot being observed in the fire-place, a search was made in thechimney, and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, headdownward, was dragged therefrom; it having been thus forced up thenarrow aperture for a considerable distance. The body was quite warm.Upon examining it, many excoriations were perceived, no doubt occasionedby the violence with which it had been thrust up and disengaged. Uponthe face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, dark bruises,and deep indentations of finger nails, as if the deceased had beenthrottled to death.
“After a thorough investigation of every portion of the house, withoutfarther discovery, the party made its way into a small paved yard inthe rear of the building, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with herthroat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head felloff. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated--the formerso much so as scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity.
“To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we believe, the slightestclew.”
The next day’s paper had these additional particulars.
“_The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue._ Many individuals have been examinedin relation to this most extraordinary and frightful affair. [The word‘affaire’ has not yet, in France, that levity of import which it conveyswith us,] “but nothing whatever has transpired to throw light upon it.We give below all the material testimony elicited.
“_Pauline Dubourg_, laundress, deposes that she has known both thedeceased for three years, having washed for them during that period.The old lady and her daughter seemed on good terms--very affectionatetowards each other. They were excellent pay. Could not speak in regardto their mode or means of living. Believed that Madame L. told fortunesfor a living. Was reputed to have money put by. Never met any personsin the house when she called for the clothes or took them home. Was surethat they had no servant in employ. There appeared to be no furniture inany part of the building except in the fourth story.
“_Pierre Moreau_, tobacconist, deposes that he has been in the habit ofselling small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame L’Espanaye fornearly four years. Was born in the neighborhood, and has always residedthere. The deceased and her daughter had occupied the house in which thecorpses were found, for more than six years. It was formerly occupied bya jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms to various persons. The housewas the property of Madame L. She became dissatisfied with the abuse ofthe premises by her tenant, and moved into them herself, refusing to letany portion. The old lady was childish. Witness had seen the daughtersome five or six times during the six years. The two lived anexceedingly retired life--were reputed to have money. Had heard it saidamong the neighbors that Madame L. told fortunes--did not believe it.Had never seen any person enter the door except the old lady and herdaughter, a porter once or twice, and a physician some eight or tentimes.
“Many other persons, neighbors, gave evidence to the same effect. No onewas spoken of as frequenting the house. It was not known whether therewere any living connexions of Madame L. and her daughter. The shuttersof the front windows were seldom opened. Those in the rear were alwaysclosed, with the exception of the large back room, fourth story. Thehouse was a good house--not very old.
“_Isidore Muset_, _gendarme_, deposes that he was called to the houseabout three o’clock in the morning, and found some twenty or thirtypersons at the gateway, endeavoring to gain admittance. Forced it open,at length, with a bayonet--not with a crowbar. Had but little difficultyin getting it open, on account of its being a double or folding gate,and bolted neither at bottom not top. The shrieks were continued untilthe gate was forced--and then suddenly ceased. They seemed to be screamsof some person (or persons) in great agony--were loud and drawn out,not short and quick. Witness led the way up stairs. Upon reaching thefirst landing, heard two voices in loud and angry contention--the onea gruff voice, the other much shriller--a very strange voice. Coulddistinguish some words of the former, which was that of a Frenchman. Waspositive that it was not a woman’s voice. Could distinguish the words‘_sacré_’ and ‘_diable._’ The shrill voice was that of a foreigner.Could not be sure whether it was the voice of a man or of a woman. Couldnot make out what was said, but believed the language to be Spanish. Thestate of the room and of the bodies was described by this witness as wedescribed them yesterday.
“_Henri Duval_, a neighbor, and by trade a silver-smith, deposes thathe was one of the party who first entered the house. Corroborates thetestimony of Muset in general. As soon as they forced an entrance, theyreclosed the door, to keep out the crowd, which collected very fast,notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The shrill voice, this witnessthinks, was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not French. Could notbe sure that it was a man’s voice. It might have been a woman’s. Was notacquainted with the Italian language. Could not distinguish the words,but was convinced by the intonation that the speaker was an Italian.Knew Madame L. and her daughter. Had conversed with both frequently. Wassure that the shrill voice was not that of either of the deceased.
“--_Odenheimer, restaurateur._ This witness volunteered his testimony.Not speaking French, was examined through an interpreter. Is a native ofAmsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of the shrieks. They lastedfor several minutes--probably ten. They were long and loud--very awfuland distressing. Was one of those who entered the building. Corroboratedthe previous evidence in every respect but one. Was sure that the shrillvoice was that of a man--of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish thewords uttered. They were loud and quick--unequal--spoken apparently infear as well as in anger. The voice was harsh--not so much shrill asharsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff voice said repeatedly‘_sacré_,’ ‘_diable_,’ and once ‘_mon Dieu._’
“_Jules Mignaud_, banker, of the firm of Mignaud et Fils, Rue Deloraine.Is the elder Mignaud. Madame L’Espanaye had some property. Had opened anaccount with his banking house in the spring of the year--(eight yearspreviously). Made frequent deposits in small sums. Had checked fornothing until the third day before her death, when she took out inperson the sum of 4000 francs. This sum was paid in gold, and a clerkwent home with the money.
“_Adolphe Le Bon_, clerk to Mignaud et Fils, deposes that on the day inquestion, about noon, he accompanied Madame L’Espanaye to her residencewith the 4000 francs, put up in two bags. Upon the door being opened,Mademoiselle L. appeared and took from his hands one of the bags, whilethe old lady relieved him of the other. He then bowed and departed. Didnot see any person in the street at the time. It is a bye-street--verylonely.
“_William Bird_, tailor deposes that he was one of the party who enteredthe house. Is an Englishman. Has lived in Paris two years. Was one ofthe first to ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. Thegruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could make out several words, butcannot now remember all. Heard distinctly ‘_sacré_’ and ‘_mon Dieu._’There was a sound at the moment as if of several persons struggling--ascraping and scuffling sound. The shrill voice was very loud--louderthan the gruff one. Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman.Appeared to be that of a German. Might have been a woman’s voice. Doesnot understand German.
“Four of the above-named witnesses, being recalled, deposed that thedoor of the chamber in which was found the body of Mademoiselle L.was locked on the inside when the party reached it. Every thing wasperfectly silent--no groans or noises of any kind. Upon forcing the doorno person was seen. The windows, both of the back and front room, weredown and firmly fastened from within. A door between the two rooms wasclosed, but not locked. The door leading from the front room into thepassage was locked, with the key on the inside. A small room in thefront of the house, on the fourth story, at the head of the passage wasopen, the door being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, boxes,and so forth. These were carefully removed and searched. There was notan inch of any portion of the house which was not carefully searched.Sweeps were sent up and down the chimneys. The house was a four storyone, with garrets (_mansardes._) A trap-door on the roof was nailed downvery securely--did not appear to have been opened for years. Thetime elapsing between the hearing of the voices in contention and thebreaking open of the room door, was variously stated by the witnesses.Some made it as short as three minutes--some as long as five. The doorwas opened with difficulty.
“_Alfonzo Garcio_, undertaker, deposes that he resides in the RueMorgue. Is a native of Spain. Was one of the party who entered thehouse. Did not proceed up stairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive ofthe consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in contention. The gruffvoice was that of a Frenchman. Could not distinguish what was said.The shrill voice was that of an Englishman--is sure of this. Does notunderstand the English language, but judges by the intonation.
“_Alberto Montani_, confectioner, deposes that he was among the firstto ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in question. The gruff voice wasthat of a Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The speaker appearedto be expostulating. Could not make out the words of the shrill voice.Spoke quick and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. Corroboratesthe general testimony. Is an Italian. Never conversed with a native ofRussia.
“Several witnesses, recalled, here testified that the chimneys of allthe rooms on the fourth story were too narrow to admit the passage of ahuman being. By ‘sweeps’ were meant cylindrical sweeping brushes, suchas are employed by those who clean chimneys. These brushes were passedup and down every flue in the house. There is no back passage by whichany one could have descended while the party proceeded up stairs. Thebody of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was so firmly wedged in the chimney thatit could not be got down until four or five of the party united theirstrength.
“_Paul Dumas_, physician, deposes that he was called to view thebodies about day-break. They were both then lying on the sacking of thebedstead in the chamber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse ofthe young lady was much bruised and excoriated. The fact that ithad been thrust up the chimney would sufficiently account for theseappearances. The throat was greatly chafed. There were several deepscratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spotswhich were evidently the impression of fingers. The face was fearfullydiscolored, and the eye-balls protruded. The tongue had been partiallybitten through. A large bruise was discovered upon the pit of thestomach, produced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In the opinionof M. Dumas, Mademoiselle L’Espanaye had been throttled to death bysome person or persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was horriblymutilated. All the bones of the right leg and arm were more or lessshattered. The left _tibia_ much splintered, as well as all the ribs ofthe left side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and discolored. It was notpossible to say how the injuries had been inflicted. A heavy club ofwood, or a broad bar of iron--a chair--any large, heavy, and obtuseweapon would have produced such results, if wielded by the hands ofa very powerful man. No woman could have inflicted the blows with anyweapon. The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, was entirelyseparated from the body, and was also greatly shattered. The throathad evidently been cut with some very sharp instrument--probably with arazor.
“_Alexandre Etienne_, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view thebodies. Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.
“Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several otherpersons were examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in allits particulars, was never before committed in Paris--if indeed a murderhas been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault--an unusualoccurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the shadowof a clew apparent.”
The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitementstill continued in the Quartier St. Roch--that the premises in questionhad been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnessesinstituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however, mentionedthat Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned--although nothingappeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed.
Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair--atleast so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was onlyafter the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he asked memy opinion respecting the murders.
I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insolublemystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace themurderer.
“We must not judge of the means,” said Dupin, “by this shell of anexamination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for _acumen_, arecunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyondthe method of the moment. They make a vast parade of measures; but, notunfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, asto put us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain’s calling for his_robe-de-chambre--pour mieux entendre la musique._ The results attainedby them are not unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, arebrought about by simple diligence and activity. When these qualities areunavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a goodguesser and a persevering man. But, without educated thought, he erredcontinually by the very intensity of his investigations. He impaired hisvision by holding the object too close. He might see, perhaps, one ortwo points with unusual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lostsight of the matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being tooprofound. Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards the moreimportant knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably superficial.The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon themountain-tops where she is found. The modes and sources of this kind oferror are well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies.To look at a star by glances--to view it in a side-long way, by turningtoward it the exterior portions of the _retina_ (more susceptible offeeble impressions of light than the interior), is to behold the stardistinctly--is to have the best appreciation of its lustre--a lustrewhich grows dim just in proportion as we turn our vision _fully_ uponit. A greater number of rays actually fall upon the eye in the lattercase, but, in the former, there is the more refined capacity forcomprehension. By undue profundity we perplex and enfeeble thought; andit is possible to make even Venus herself vanish from the firmanent by ascrutiny too sustained, too concentrated, or too direct.
“As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations forourselves, before we make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry willafford us amusement,” [I thought this an odd term, so applied, but saidnothing] “and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a service for which Iam not ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our own eyes.I know G----, the Prefect of Police, and shall have no difficulty inobtaining the necessary permission.”
The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue.This is one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene between theRue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the afternoon when wereached it; as this quarter is at a great distance from that in which weresided. The house was readily found; for there were still many personsgazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless curiosity, fromthe opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian house, witha gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a slidingpanel in the window, indicating a _loge de concierge._ Before going inwe walked up the street, turned down an alley, and then, again turning,passed in the rear of the building--Dupin, meanwhile examining the wholeneighborhood, as well as the house, with a minuteness of attention forwhich I could see no possible object.
Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of the dwelling, rang,and, having shown our credentials, were admitted by the agentsin charge. We went up stairs--into the chamber where the body ofMademoiselle L’Espanaye had been found, and where both the deceasedstill lay. The disorders of the room had, as usual, been suffered toexist. I saw nothing beyond what had been stated in the “Gazette desTribunaux.” Dupin scrutinized every thing--not excepting the bodies ofthe victims. We then went into the other rooms, and into the yard; a_gendarme_ accompanying us throughout. The examination occupied us untildark, when we took our departure. On our way home my companion steppedin for a moment at the office of one of the daily papers.
I have said that the whims of my friend were manifold, and that _Je lesménageais_:--for this phrase there is no English equivalent. It was hishumor, now, to decline all conversation on the subject of the murder,until about noon the next day. He then asked me, suddenly, if I hadobserved any thing _peculiar_ at the scene of the atrocity.
There was something in his manner of emphasizing the word “peculiar,” which caused me to shudder, without knowing why.
“No, nothing _peculiar_,” I said; “nothing more, at least, than we bothsaw stated in the paper.”
“The ‘Gazette,’” he replied, “has not entered, I fear, into the unusualhorror of the thing. But dismiss the idle opinions of this print. Itappears to me that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the veryreason which should cause it to be regarded as easy of solution--I meanfor the _outré_ character of its features. The police are confounded bythe seeming absence of motive--not for the murder itself--but forthe atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, by the seemingimpossibility of reconciling the voices heard in contention, withthe facts that no one was discovered up stairs but the assassinatedMademoiselle L’Espanaye, and that there were no means of egress withoutthe notice of the party ascending. The wild disorder of the room; thecorpse thrust, with the head downward, up the chimney; the frightfulmutilation of the body of the old lady; these considerations, with thosejust mentioned, and others which I need not mention, have sufficedto paralyze the powers, by putting completely at fault the boasted_acumen_, of the government agents. They have fallen into the gross butcommon error of confounding the unusual with the abstruse. But it is bythese deviations from the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels itsway, if at all, in its search for the true. In investigations such as weare now pursuing, it should not be so much asked ‘what has occurred,’as ‘what has occurred that has never occurred before.’ In fact, thefacility with which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solution ofthis mystery, is in the direct ratio of its apparent insolubility in theeyes of the police.”
I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment.
“I am now awaiting,” continued he, looking toward the door of ourapartment--“I am now awaiting a person who, although perhaps notthe perpetrator of these butcheries, must have been in some measureimplicated in their perpetration. Of the worst portion of the crimescommitted, it is probable that he is innocent. I hope that I am rightin this supposition; for upon it I build my expectation of reading theentire riddle. I look for the man here--in this room--every moment. Itis true that he may not arrive; but the probability is that he will.Should he come, it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols;and we both know how to use them when occasion demands their use.”
I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or believing whatI heard, while Dupin went on, very much as if in a soliloquy. I havealready spoken of his abstract manner at such times. His discourse wasaddressed to myself; but his voice, although by no means loud, had thatintonation which is commonly employed in speaking to some one at a greatdistance. His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the wall.
“That the voices heard in contention,” he said, “by the party upon thestairs, were not the voices of the women themselves, was fully provedby the evidence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the question whetherthe old lady could have first destroyed the daughter and afterward havecommitted suicide. I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method;for the strength of Madame L’Espanaye would have been utterly unequalto the task of thrusting her daughter’s corpse up the chimney as itwas found; and the nature of the wounds upon her own person entirelypreclude the idea of self-destruction. Murder, then, has been committedby some third party; and the voices of this third party were those heardin contention. Let me now advert--not to the whole testimony respectingthese voices--but to what was _peculiar_ in that testimony. Did youobserve any thing peculiar about it?”
I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in supposing the gruffvoice to be that of a Frenchman, there was much disagreement in regardto the shrill, or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice.
“That was the evidence itself,” said Dupin, “but it was not thepeculiarity of the evidence. You have observed nothing distinctive.Yet there _was_ something to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark,agreed about the gruff voice; they were here unanimous. But in regard tothe shrill voice, the peculiarity is--not that they disagreed--butthat, while an Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and aFrenchman attempted to describe it, each one spoke of it as that _ofa foreigner_. Each is sure that it was not the voice of one of his owncountrymen. Each likens it--not to the voice of an individual of anynation with whose language he is conversant--but the converse.The Frenchman supposes it the voice of a Spaniard, and ‘might havedistinguished some words _had he been acquainted with the Spanish._’ TheDutchman maintains it to have been that of a Frenchman; but we find itstated that ‘_not understanding French this witness was examined throughan interpreter._’ The Englishman thinks it the voice of a German, and‘_does not understand German._’ The Spaniard ‘is sure’ that it was thatof an Englishman, but ‘judges by the intonation’ altogether, ‘_as he hasno knowledge of the English._’ The Italian believes it the voice of aRussian, but ‘_has never conversed with a native of Russia._’ A secondFrenchman differs, moreover, with the first, and is positive that thevoice was that of an Italian; but, _not being cognizant of that tongue_,is, like the Spaniard, ‘convinced by the intonation.’ Now, how strangelyunusual must that voice have really been, about which such testimony asthis _could_ have been elicited!--in whose _tones_, even, denizens ofthe five great divisions of Europe could recognise nothing familiar! Youwill say that it might have been the voice of an Asiatic--of an African.Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris; but, without denying theinference, I will now merely call your attention to three points.The voice is termed by one witness ‘harsh rather than shrill.’ Itis represented by two others to have been ‘quick and _unequal._’ Nowords--no sounds resembling words--were by any witness mentioned asdistinguishable.
“I know not,” continued Dupin, “what impression I may have made, sofar, upon your own understanding; but I do not hesitate to say thatlegitimate deductions even from this portion of the testimony--theportion respecting the gruff and shrill voices--are in themselvessufficient to engender a suspicion which should give direction to allfarther progress in the investigation of the mystery. I said ‘legitimatedeductions;’ but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. I designedto imply that the deductions are the _sole_ proper ones, and that thesuspicion arises _inevitably_ from them as the single result. What thesuspicion is, however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you tobear in mind that, with myself, it was sufficiently forcible to give adefinite form--a certain tendency--to my inquiries in the chamber.
“Let us now transport ourselves, in fancy, to this chamber. What shallwe first seek here? The means of egress employed by the murderers. It isnot too much to say that neither of us believe in præternatural events.Madame and Mademoiselle L’Espanaye were not destroyed by spirits. Thedoers of the deed were material, and escaped materially. Then how?Fortunately, there is but one mode of reasoning upon the point, and thatmode _must_ lead us to a definite decision.--Let us examine, each byeach, the possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins werein the room where Mademoiselle L’Espanaye was found, or at least in theroom adjoining, when the party ascended the stairs. It is then only fromthese two apartments that we have to seek issues. The police have laidbare the floors, the ceilings, and the masonry of the walls, in everydirection. No _secret_ issues could have escaped their vigilance. But,not trusting to _their_ eyes, I examined with my own. There were, then,no secret issues. Both doors leading from the rooms into the passagewere securely locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn to the chimneys.These, although of ordinary width for some eight or ten feet above thehearths, will not admit, throughout their extent, the body of a largecat. The impossibility of egress, by means already stated, being thusabsolute, we are reduced to the windows. Through those of the front roomno one could have escaped without notice from the crowd in the street.The murderers _must_ have passed, then, through those of the back room.Now, brought to this conclusion in so unequivocal a manner as we are,it is not our part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparentimpossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that these apparent‘impossibilities’ are, in reality, not such.
“There are two windows in the chamber. One of them is unobstructed byfurniture, and is wholly visible. The lower portion of the other ishidden from view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which is thrustclose up against it. The former was found securely fastened from within.It resisted the utmost force of those who endeavored to raise it. Alarge gimlet-hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, and a verystout nail was found fitted therein, nearly to the head. Upon examiningthe other window, a similar nail was seen similarly fitted in it; anda vigorous attempt to raise this sash, failed also. The police were nowentirely satisfied that egress had not been in these directions. And,_therefore_, it was thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw thenails and open the windows.
“My own examination was somewhat more particular, and was so for thereason I have just given--because here it was, I knew, that all apparentimpossibilities _must_ be proved to be not such in reality.
“I proceeded to think thus--_a posteriori_. The murderers did escapefrom one of these windows. This being so, they could not have refastenedthe sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened;--theconsideration which put a stop, through its obviousness, to the scrutinyof the police in this quarter. Yet the sashes _were_ fastened. They_must_, then, have the power of fastening themselves. There was noescape from this conclusion. I stepped to the unobstructed casement,withdrew the nail with some difficulty and attempted to raise the sash.It resisted all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed springmust, I now know, exist; and this corroboration of my idea convincedme that my premises at least, were correct, however mysterious stillappeared the circumstances attending the nails. A careful search soonbrought to light the hidden spring. I pressed it, and, satisfied withthe discovery, forbore to upraise the sash.
“I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. A person passingout through this window might have reclosed it, and the spring wouldhave caught--but the nail could not have been replaced. The conclusionwas plain, and again narrowed in the field of my investigations. Theassassins _must_ have escaped through the other window. Supposing, then,the springs upon each sash to be the same, as was probable, there _must_be found a difference between the nails, or at least between the modesof their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bedstead, I lookedover the head-board minutely at the second casement. Passing my handdown behind the board, I readily discovered and pressed the spring,which was, as I had supposed, identical in character with its neighbor.I now looked at the nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparentlyfitted in the same manner--driven in nearly up to the head.
“You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think so, you must havemisunderstood the nature of the inductions. To use a sporting phrase,I had not been once ‘at fault.’ The scent had never for an instantbeen lost. There was no flaw in any link of the chain. I had traced thesecret to its ultimate result,--and that result was _the nail._ Ithad, I say, in every respect, the appearance of its fellow in the otherwindow; but this fact was an absolute nullity (conclusive us it mightseem to be) when compared with the consideration that here, at thispoint, terminated the clew. ‘There _must_ be something wrong,’ I said,‘about the nail.’ I touched it; and the head, with about a quarter of aninch of the shank, came off in my fingers. The rest of the shank was inthe gimlet-hole where it had been broken off. The fracture was an oldone (for its edges were incrusted with rust), and had apparently beenaccomplished by the blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded,in the top of the bottom sash, the head portion of the nail. I nowcarefully replaced this head portion in the indentation whence I hadtaken it, and the resemblance to a perfect nail was complete--thefissure was invisible. Pressing the spring, I gently raised the sashfor a few inches; the head went up with it, remaining firm in its bed.I closed the window, and the semblance of the whole nail was againperfect.
“The riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The assassin had escaped throughthe window which looked upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord uponhis exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fastened by thespring; and it was the retention of this spring which had been mistakenby the police for that of the nail,--farther inquiry being thusconsidered unnecessary.
“The next question is that of the mode of descent. Upon this point I hadbeen satisfied in my walk with you around the building. About five feetand a half from the casement in question there runs a lightning-rod.From this rod it would have been impossible for any one to reach thewindow itself, to say nothing of entering it. I observed, however, thatthe shutters of the fourth story were of the peculiar kind called byParisian carpenters _ferrades_--a kind rarely employed at the presentday, but frequently seen upon very old mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux.They are in the form of an ordinary door, (a single, not a folding door)except that the lower half is latticed or worked in open trellis--thusaffording an excellent hold for the hands. In the present instance theseshutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When we saw them fromthe rear of the house, they were both about half open--that is to say,they stood off at right angles from the wall. It is probable that thepolice, as well as myself, examined the back of the tenement; but, ifso, in looking at these _ferrades_ in the line of their breadth (as theymust have done), they did not perceive this great breadth itself, or,at all events, failed to take it into due consideration. In fact, havingonce satisfied themselves that no egress could have been made in thisquarter, they would naturally bestow here a very cursory examination.It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belonging to the windowat the head of the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reachto within two feet of the lightning-rod. It was also evident that, byexertion of a very unusual degree of activity and courage, an entranceinto the window, from the rod, might have been thus effected.--Byreaching to the distance of two feet and a half (we now suppose theshutter open to its whole extent) a robber might have taken a firm graspupon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, his hold upon the rod, placinghis feet securely against the wall, and springing boldly from it, hemight have swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine thewindow open at the time, might even have swung himself into the room.
“I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have spoken of a _very_unusual degree of activity as requisite to success in so hazardous andso difficult a feat. It is my design to show you, first, that the thingmight possibly have been accomplished:--but, secondly and _chiefly_, Iwish to impress upon your understanding the _very extraordinary_--thealmost præternatural character of that agility which could haveaccomplished it.
“You will say, no doubt, using the language of the law, that ‘to makeout my case,’ I should rather undervalue, than insist upon a fullestimation of the activity required in this matter. This may be thepractice in law, but it is not the usage of reason. My ultimate objectis only the truth. My immediate purpose is to lead you to place injuxtaposition, that _very unusual_ activity of which I have just spokenwith that _very peculiar_ shrill (or harsh) and _unequal_ voice, aboutwhose nationality no two persons could be found to agree, and in whoseutterance no syllabification could be detected.”
At these words a vague and half-formed conception of the meaningof Dupin flitted over my mind. I seemed to be upon the verge ofcomprehension without power to comprehend--men, at times, findthemselves upon the brink of remembrance without being able, in the end,to remember. My friend went on with his discourse.
“You will see,” he said, “that I have shifted the question from the modeof egress to that of ingress. It was my design to convey the idea thatboth were effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let us nowrevert to the interior of the room. Let us survey the appearances here.The drawers of the bureau, it is said, had been rifled, although manyarticles of apparel still remained within them. The conclusion here isabsurd. It is a mere guess--a very silly one--and no more. How arewe to know that the articles found in the drawers were not all thesedrawers had originally contained? Madame L’Espanaye and her daughterlived an exceedingly retired life--saw no company--seldom went out--hadlittle use for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found were at leastof as good quality as any likely to be possessed by these ladies. If athief had taken any, why did he not take the best--why did he not takeall? In a word, why did he abandon four thousand francs in gold toencumber himself with a bundle of linen? The gold _was _abandoned.Nearly the whole sum mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, wasdiscovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, therefore, to discardfrom your thoughts the blundering idea of _motive_, engendered in thebrains of the police by that portion of the evidence which speaks ofmoney delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences ten times asremarkable as this (the delivery of the money, and murder committedwithin three days upon the party receiving it), happen to all of usevery hour of our lives, without attracting even momentary notice.Coincidences, in general, are great stumbling-blocks in the way of thatclass of thinkers who have been educated to know nothing of the theoryof probabilities--that theory to which the most glorious objects ofhuman research are indebted for the most glorious of illustration. Inthe present instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of its deliverythree days before would have formed something more than a coincidence.It would have been corroborative of this idea of motive. But, under thereal circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold the motiveof this outrage, we must also imagine the perpetrator so vacillating anidiot as to have abandoned his gold and his motive together.
“Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which I have drawn yourattention--that peculiar voice, that unusual agility, and that startlingabsence of motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this--let usglance at the butchery itself. Here is a woman strangled to deathby manual strength, and thrust up a chimney, head downward. Ordinaryassassins employ no such modes of murder as this. Least of all, do theythus dispose of the murdered. In the manner of thrusting the corpseup the chimney, you will admit that there was something _excessivelyoutré_--something altogether irreconcilable with our common notions ofhuman action, even when we suppose the actors the most depraved of men.Think, too, how great must have been that strength which could havethrust the body _up_ such an aperture so forcibly that the united vigorof several persons was found barely sufficient to drag it _down!_
“Turn, now, to other indications of the employment of a vigor mostmarvellous. On the hearth were thick tresses--very thick tresses--ofgrey human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. You are aware ofthe great force necessary in tearing thus from the head even twenty orthirty hairs together. You saw the locks in question as well as myself.Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted with fragments of the fleshof the scalp--sure token of the prodigious power which had been exertedin uprooting perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The throat ofthe old lady was not merely cut, but the head absolutely severed fromthe body: the instrument was a mere razor. I wish you also to look atthe _brutal_ ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the bodyof Madame L’Espanaye I do not speak. Monsieur Dumas, and his worthycoadjutor Monsieur Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted bysome obtuse instrument; and so far these gentlemen are very correct. Theobtuse instrument was clearly the stone pavement in the yard, upon whichthe victim had fallen from the window which looked in upon the bed. Thisidea, however simple it may now seem, escaped the police for the samereason that the breadth of the shutters escaped them--because, by theaffair of the nails, their perceptions had been hermetically sealedagainst the possibility of the windows having ever been opened at all.
“If now, in addition to all these things, you have properly reflectedupon the odd disorder of the chamber, we have gone so far as to combinethe ideas of an agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a ferocitybrutal, a butchery without motive, a _grotesquerie_ in horror absolutelyalien from humanity, and a voice foreign in tone to the ears of menof many nations, and devoid of all distinct or intelligiblesyllabification. What result, then, has ensued? What impression have Imade upon your fancy?”
I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the question. “Amadman,” I said, “has done this deed--some raving maniac, escaped from aneighboring _Maison de Santé._”
“In some respects,” he replied, “your idea is not irrelevant. But thevoices of madmen, even in their wildest paroxysms, are never found totally with that peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are of somenation, and their language, however incoherent in its words, has alwaysthe coherence of syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is notsuch as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled this little tuft from therigidly clutched fingers of Madame L’Espanaye. Tell me what you can makeof it.”
“Dupin!” I said, completely unnerved; “this hair is most unusual--thisis no _human_ hair.”
“I have not asserted that it is,” said he; “but, before we decide thispoint, I wish you to glance at the little sketch I have here traced uponthis paper. It is a _fac-simile_ drawing of what has been described inone portion of the testimony as ‘dark bruises, and deep indentationsof finger nails,’ upon the throat of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye, and inanother, (by Messrs. Dumas and Etienne,) as a ‘series of livid spots,evidently the impression of fingers.’
“You will perceive,” continued my friend, spreading out the paper uponthe table before us, “that this drawing gives the idea of a firmand fixed hold. There is no _slipping_ apparent. Each finger hasretained--possibly until the death of the victim--the fearful grasp bywhich it originally imbedded itself. Attempt, now, to place all yourfingers, at the same time, in the respective impressions as you seethem.”
I made the attempt in vain.
“We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial,” he said. “Thepaper is spread out upon a plane surface; but the human throat iscylindrical. Here is a billet of wood, the circumference of whichis about that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and try theexperiment again.”
I did so; but the difficulty was even more obvious than before. “This,” I said, “is the mark of no human hand.”
“Read now,” replied Dupin, “this passage from Cuvier.”
It was a minute anatomical and generally descriptive account of thelarge fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands. The giganticstature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, andthe imitative propensities of these mammalia are sufficiently well knownto all. I understood the full horrors of the murder at once.
“The description of the digits,” said I, as I made an end of reading,“is in exact accordance with this drawing. I see that no animal but anOurang-Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have impressed theindentations as you have traced them. This tuft of tawny hair, too, isidentical in character with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannotpossibly comprehend the particulars of this frightful mystery. Besides,there were _two_ voices heard in contention, and one of them wasunquestionably the voice of a Frenchman.”
“True; and you will remember an expression attributed almostunanimously, by the evidence, to this voice,--the expression, ‘_monDieu!_’ This, under the circumstances, has been justly characterized byone of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner,) as an expression ofremonstrance or expostulation. Upon these two words, therefore, I havemainly built my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A Frenchmanwas cognizant of the murder. It is possible--indeed it is far morethan probable--that he was innocent of all participation in the bloodytransactions which took place. The Ourang-Outang may have escaped fromhim. He may have traced it to the chamber; but, under the agitatingcircumstances which ensued, he could never have re-captured it. It isstill at large. I will not pursue these guesses--for I have no right tocall them more--since the shades of reflection upon which they are basedare scarcely of sufficient depth to be appreciable by my own intellect,and since I could not pretend to make them intelligible to theunderstanding of another. We will call them guesses then, and speakof them as such. If the Frenchman in question is indeed, as I suppose,innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement which I left last night,upon our return home, at the office of ‘Le Monde,’ (a paper devoted tothe shipping interest, and much sought by sailors,) will bring him toour residence.”
He handed me a paper, and I read thus:
CAUGHT--_In the Bois de Boulogne, early in the morning of the--inst.,_(the morning of the murder,) _a very large, tawny Ourang-Outang ofthe Bornese species. The owner, (who is ascertained to be a sailor,belonging to a Maltese vessel,) may have the animal again, uponidentifying it satisfactorily, and paying a few charges arising fromits capture and keeping. Call at No. ----, Rue ----, Faubourg St.Germain--au troisiême._
“How was it possible,” I asked, “that you should know the man to be asailor, and belonging to a Maltese vessel?”
“I do _not_ know it,” said Dupin. “I am not _sure_ of it. Here, however,is a small piece of ribbon, which from its form, and from its greasyappearance, has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of thoselong _queues_ of which sailors are so fond. Moreover, this knot is onewhich few besides sailors can tie, and is peculiar to the Maltese. Ipicked the ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could not havebelonged to either of the deceased. Now if, after all, I am wrong in myinduction from this ribbon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging toa Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in saying what I did inthe advertisement. If I am in error, he will merely suppose that I havebeen misled by some circumstance into which he will not take the troubleto inquire. But if I am right, a great point is gained. Cognizantalthough innocent of the murder, the Frenchman will naturally hesitateabout replying to the advertisement--about demanding the Ourang-Outang.He will reason thus:--‘I am innocent; I am poor; my Ourang-Outang is ofgreat value--to one in my circumstances a fortune of itself--why shouldI lose it through idle apprehensions of danger? Here it is, within mygrasp. It was found in the Bois de Boulogne--at a vast distance from thescene of that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a brute beastshould have done the deed? The police are at fault--they have failed toprocure the slightest clew. Should they even trace the animal, it wouldbe impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, or to implicate mein guilt on account of that cognizance. Above all, _I am known._ Theadvertiser designates me as the possessor of the beast. I am not sure towhat limit his knowledge may extend. Should I avoid claiming a propertyof so great value, which it is known that I possess, I will render theanimal at least, liable to suspicion. It is not my policy to attractattention either to myself or to the beast. I will answer theadvertisement, get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until thismatter has blown over.’”
At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs.
“Be ready,” said Dupin, “with your pistols, but neither use them norshow them until at a signal from myself.”
The front door of the house had been left open, and the visiter hadentered, 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, andrapped 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, andmuscular-looking person, with a certain dare-devil expression ofcountenance, not altogether unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt,was more than half hidden by whisker and _mustachio._ He had with hima huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to be otherwise unarmed. He bowedawkwardly, and bade us “good evening,” in French accents, which,although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still sufficiently indicative of aParisian origin.
“Sit down, my friend,” said Dupin. “I suppose you have called about theOurang-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 yousuppose him to be?”
The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man relieved of someintolerable burden, and then replied, in an assured tone:
“I have no way of telling--but he can’t be more than four or five yearsold. Have you got him here?”
“Oh no, we had no conveniences for keeping him here. He is at a liverystable in the Rue Dubourg, just by. You can get him in the morning. Ofcourse you are prepared to identify the property?”
“To be sure I am, sir.”
“I shall be sorry to part with him,” said Dupin.
“I don’t mean that you should be at all this trouble for nothing, sir,” said the man. “Couldn’t expect it. Am very willing to pay a reward forthe finding of the animal--that is to say, any thing in reason.”
“Well,” replied my friend, “that is all very fair, to be sure. Let methink!--what should I have? Oh! I will tell you. My reward shall bethis. You shall give me all the information in your power about thesemurders in the Rue Morgue.”
Dupin said the last words in a very low tone, and very quietly. Just asquietly, too, he walked toward the door, locked it and put the key inhis pocket. He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, withoutthe 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 hefell back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the countenanceof death itself. He spoke not a word. I pitied him from the bottom of myheart.
“My friend,” said Dupin, in a kind tone, “you are alarming yourselfunnecessarily--you are indeed. We mean you no harm whatever. I pledgeyou the honor of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we intend you noinjury. I perfectly well know that you are innocent of the atrocitiesin the Rue Morgue. It will not do, however, to deny that you are in somemeasure implicated in them. From what I have already said, you must knowthat I have had means of information about this matter--means of whichyou could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands thus. You have donenothing which you could have avoided--nothing, certainly, which rendersyou culpable. You were not even guilty of robbery, when you might haverobbed with impunity. You have nothing to conceal. You have no reasonfor concealment. On the other hand, you are bound by every principleof honor to confess all you know. An innocent man is now imprisoned,charged with that crime of which you can point out the perpetrator.”
The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a great measure, whileDupin uttered these words; but his original boldness of bearing was allgone.
“So help me God,” said he, after a brief pause, “I will tell you all Iknow about this affair;--but I do not expect you to believe one half Isay--I would be a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I willmake a clean breast if I die for it.”
What he stated was, in substance, this. He had lately made a voyageto the Indian Archipelago. A party, of which he formed one, landedat Borneo, and passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure.Himself and a companion had captured the Ourang-Outang. This companiondying, the animal fell into his own exclusive possession. After greattrouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his captive duringthe home voyage, he at length succeeded in lodging it safely at his ownresidence in Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the unpleasantcuriosity of his neighbors, he kept it carefully secluded, until suchtime as it should recover from a wound in the foot, received from asplinter on board ship. His ultimate design was to sell it.
Returning home from some sailors’ frolic the night, or rather in themorning of the murder, he found the beast occupying his own bed-room,into which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it had been, aswas thought, securely confined. Razor in hand, and fully lathered, itwas sitting before a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving,in which it had no doubt previously watched its master through thekey-hole of the closet. Terrified at the sight of so dangerous a weaponin the possession of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to useit, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to do. He had beenaccustomed, however, to quiet the creature, even in its fiercest moods,by the use of a whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, theOurang-Outang sprang at once through the door of the chamber, downthe stairs, and thence, through a window, unfortunately open, into thestreet.
The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor still in hand,occasionally stopping to look back and gesticulate at its pursuer, untilthe latter had nearly come up with it. It then again made off. In thismanner the chase continued for a long time. The streets were profoundlyquiet, as it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. In passing downan alley in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive’s attention wasarrested by a light gleaming from the open window of Madame L’Espanaye’schamber, in the fourth story of her house. Rushing to the building, itperceived the lightning rod, clambered up with inconceivable agility,grasped the shutter, which was thrown fully back against the wall, and,by its means, swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed. Thewhole feat did not occupy a minute. The shutter was kicked open again bythe Ourang-Outang as it entered the room.
The sailor, in the meantime, was both rejoiced and perplexed. He hadstrong hopes of now recapturing the brute, as it could scarcely escapefrom the trap into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where itmight be intercepted as it came down. On the other hand, there wasmuch cause for anxiety as to what it might do in the house. This latterreflection urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A lightning rodis ascended without difficulty, especially by a sailor; but, when he hadarrived as high as the window, which lay far to his left, his career wasstopped; the most that he could accomplish was to reach over so as toobtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. At this glimpse he nearlyfell from his hold through excess of horror. Now it was that thosehideous shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled from slumberthe inmates of the Rue Morgue. Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter,habited in their night clothes, had apparently been occupied inarranging some papers in the iron chest already mentioned, which hadbeen wheeled into the middle of the room. It was open, and its contentslay beside it on the floor. The victims must have been sitting withtheir backs toward the window; and, from the time elapsing between theingress of the beast and the screams, it seems probable that it was notimmediately perceived. The flapping-to of the shutter would naturallyhave been attributed to the wind.
As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had seized MadameL’Espanaye by the hair, (which was loose, as she had been combingit,) and was flourishing the razor about her face, in imitation of themotions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and motionless; she hadswooned. The screams and struggles of the old lady (during which thehair was torn from her head) had the effect of changing the probablypacific purposes of the Ourang-Outang into those of wrath. With onedetermined sweep of its muscular arm it nearly severed her head from herbody. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into phrenzy. Gnashing itsteeth, and flashing fire from its eyes, it flew upon the body of thegirl, and imbedded its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its graspuntil she expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell at this momentupon the head of the bed, over which the face of its master, rigid withhorror, was just discernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt borestill in mind the dreaded whip, was instantly converted into fear.Conscious of having deserved punishment, it seemed desirous ofconcealing its bloody deeds, and skipped about the chamber in an agonyof nervous agitation; throwing down and breaking the furniture as itmoved, and dragging the bed from the bedstead. In conclusion, it seizedfirst the corpse of the daughter, and thrust it up the chimney, asit was found; then that of the old lady, which it immediately hurledthrough the window headlong.
As the ape approached the casement with its mutilated burden, the sailorshrank aghast to the rod, and, rather gliding than clambering down it,hurried at once home--dreading the consequences of the butchery, andgladly abandoning, in his terror, all solicitude about the fate of theOurang-Outang. The words heard by the party upon the staircase were theFrenchman’s exclamations of horror and affright, commingled with thefiendish jabberings of the brute.
I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang-Outang must have escapedfrom the chamber, by the rod, just before the break of the door. Itmust have closed the window as it passed through it. It was subsequentlycaught by the owner himself, who obtained for it a very large sum at the_Jardin des Plantes._ Le Don was instantly released, upon our narrationof the circumstances (with some comments from Dupin) at the bureau ofthe Prefect of Police. This functionary, however well disposed to myfriend, could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn whichaffairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a sarcasm or two, aboutthe propriety of every person minding his own business.
“Let him talk,” said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply.“Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience, I am satisfied withhaving defeated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he failedin the solution of this mystery, is by no means that matter for wonderwhich he supposes it; for, in truth, our friend the Prefect is somewhattoo cunning to be profound. In his wisdom is no _stamen._ It is all headand no body, like the pictures of the Goddess Laverna,--or, at best, allhead and shoulders, like a codfish. But he is a good creature after all.I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by which he hasattained his reputation for ingenuity. I mean the way he has ‘_de nierce qui est, et d’expliquer ce qui n’est pas._’” (*)
(*) Rousseau--Nouvelle Heloise.