Day: May 27, 2022

The Thousand-and-Second Tale of Scheherazade

Truth is stranger than fiction

— Old Saying

Havingx had occasion, lately, in the course of some oriental investigations, to consult the Tellmenow Isitsöornot, a work which (like the Zohar of Simeon Ischaides) is scarcely known at all, even in Europe, and which has never been quoted, to my knowledge, by any American — if we except, perhaps, the author of the “Curiosities of American Literature;” — having had occasion, I say, to turn over some pages of the first-mentioned very remarkable work, I was not a little astonished to discover that the literary world has hitherto been strangely in error respecting the fate of the vizier’s daughter, Scheherazade, as that fate is depicted in the “Arabian Nights,” and that the denouement there given, if not altogether inaccurate, as far as it goes, is at least to blame in not having gone very much farther.

For full information on this interesting topic, I must refer the inquisitive reader to the “Isitsöornot” itself: but, in the mean time, I shall be pardoned for giving a summary of what I there discovered.

It will be remembered that, in the usual version of the tales, a certain monarch, having good cause to be jealous of his queen, not only put her immediately to death, but makes a vow, by his beard and the prophet, to espouse each night the most beautiful maiden in his dominions, and the next morning to deliver her up to the executioner.

Having fulfilled this vow for many years to the letter, and with a religious punctuality and method that conferred great credit upon him as a man of devout feelings and excellent sense, he was interrupted one afternoon (no doubt at his prayers) by a visit from his grand vizier, to whose daughter, it appears, there had occurred an idea.

Her name was Scheherazade, and her idea was that she would either redeem the land from the depopulating tax upon its beauty or perish, after the approved fashion of all heroines, in the attempt.

Accordingly, and although we do not find it stated to be Leap-year, (which makes the sacrifice more meritorious,) she deputes her father, the grand vizier, to make an offer to the king of her hand. This hand the king eagerly accepts — (he had intended to take it at all events, and had put off the matter from day to day only through fear of the vizier) — but, in accepting it now, he gives all parties very distinctly to understand that, grand vizier or no grand vizier, he has not the slightest design of giving up one iota of his vow or of his privileges. When, therefore, the fair Scheherazade insisted upon marrying the king, and did actually marry him despite her father’s excellent advice not to do any thing of the kind — when she would and did marry him, I say, will I nill I, it was with her beautiful black eyes as thoroughly open as the nature of the case would allow.

It seems, however, that this politic damsel (who had been reading Machiavelli, beyond doubt,) had a very ingenious little plot in her mind. On the night of the wedding she contrived, upon I forget what specious pretence, to have her sister occupy a couch sufficiently near that of the royal pair to admit of easy conversation from bed to bed; and, a little before cock-crowing, she took care to awaken the good monarch, her husband, (who bore her none the worse will because he intended to wring her neck on the morrow,) — she managed to awake him, I say, (although, on account of a capital conscience and an easy digestion, he slept well,) by the profound interest of a story (about a rat and a black cat, I think,) which she was narrating (all in an under-tone, of course,) to her sister. When the day broke, it so happened that this history was not altogether finished, and that Scheherazade, in the nature of things, could not finish it just then, since it was high time for her to get up and be bowstrung — a thing very little more pleasant than hanging, only a trifle more genteel.

The king’s curiosity, however, prevailing, I am sorry to say, even over his sound religious principles, induced him for this once to postpone the fulfilment of his vow until next morning, for the purpose and with the hope of hearing that night how it fared in the end with the black cat (a black cat I think it was) and the rat.

The night having arrived, however, the lady Scheherazade not only put the finishing stroke to the black cat and the rat, (the rat was blue,) but before she well knew what she was about, found herself deep in the intricacies of a narration, having reference (if I am not altogether mistaken) to a pink horse (with green wings) that went, in a violent manner, by clockwork, and was wound up with an indigo key. With this history the king was even more profoundly interested than with the other, and, as the day broke before its conclusion, (notwithstanding all the queen’s endeavors to get through with it in time for the bowstringing,) there was again no resource but to postpone that ceremony, as before, for twenty-four hours. The next night there happened a similar accident with a similar result; and then the next night — and then again the next; so that, in the end, the good monarch, having been unavoidably deprived of all opportunity to keep his vow during a period of no less than one thousand and one nights, either forgets it altogether by the expiration of this time or gets himself absolved of it in the regular way, or (what is more probable) breaks it outright with the head of his father confessor. At all events, Scheherazade, who, being lineally descended from Eve, fell heir, perhaps, to the whole seven baskets of talk which the latter lady, we all know, picked up from under the trees in the garden of Eden — Scheherazade, I say, finally triumphed, and the tariff upon beauty was repealed.

Now, this conclusion (which is that of the story as we have it upon record) is, no doubt, excessively proper and pleasant — but, alas! like a great many pleasant things, is more pleasant than true; and I am indebted altogether to the “Isitsöornot” for the means of correcting the error. “Le mieux,” says a French proverb, “est l’ennemi du bien,” and, in mentioning that Scheherazade had inherited the seven baskets of talk, I should have added that she put them out at compound interest until they amounted to seventeen.

“My dear sister,” said she, on the thousand and second night, [I quote the language of the “Isitsöornot” at this point, verbatim,] “my dear sister,” said she, “now that all this little difficulty about the bowstring has blown over, and that this odious tax is so happily repealed, I feel that I have been guilty of great indiscretion in withholding from you and the king (who, I am sorry to say, snores — a thing no gentleman would do) the full conclusion of the history of Sinbad the sailor. This person went through numerous other and more interesting adventures than those which I related; but the truth is, I felt sleepy on the particular night of their narration, and so was seduced into cutting them short — a grievous piece of misconduct, for which I only trust that Allah will forgive me. But even yet it is not too late to remedy my great neglect, and as soon as I have given the king a pinch or two in order to wake him up so far that he may stop making that horrible noise, I will forthwith entertain you (and him, if he pleases,) with the sequel of this very remarkable story.”

Hereupon, the sister of Scheherazade, as I have it from the “Isitsöornot,” expressed no very particular intensity of gratification; but the king having been sufficiently pinched, at length ceased snoring, and finally said “hum!” and then “hoo!” when the queen, understanding these words (which are no doubt Arabic) to signify that he was all attention, and would do his best not to snore any more, — the queen, I say, having arranged these matters to her satisfaction, re-entered thus, at once, into the history of Sinbad the sailor.

“ ‘At length, in my old age,’ [these are the words of Sinbad himself, as retailed by Scheherazade,] — ‘at length, in my old age, and after enjoying many years of tranquillity at home, I became once more possessed with a desire of visiting foreign countries; and one day, without acquainting any of my family with my design, I packed up some bundles of such merchandize as was most precious and least bulky, and engaging a porter to carry them, went with him down to the seashore to await the arrival of any chance vessel that might convey me out of the kingdom into some region which I had not as yet explored.

“ ‘Having deposited the packages upon the sands, we sat down beneath some trees and looked out into the ocean in the hope of perceiving a ship, but during several hours we saw none whatever. At length I fancied that I could hear a singular buzzing or humming sound, and the porter, after listening awhile, declared that he also could distinguish it. Presently it grew louder, and then still louder, so that we could have no doubt that the object which caused it was approaching us. At length, on the edge of the horizon, we discovered a black speck, which rapidly increased in size until we made it out to be a vast monster, swimming with a great part of its body above the surface of the sea. It came towards us with inconceivable swiftness, throwing up huge waves of foam around its breast, and illuminating all that part of the sea through which it passed with a long line of fire that extended far off into the distance.

“ ‘As the thing drew near we saw it very distinctly. Its length was equal to that of three of the loftiest trees that grow, and it was as wide as the great hall of audience in your palace, O most sublime and munificent of the caliphs. Its body, which was unlike that of ordinary fishes, was as solid as a rock, and of a jetty blackness throughout all that portion of it which floated above the water, with the exception of a narrow blood-red streak that completely begirdled it. The belly, which floated beneath the surface, and of which we could get only a glimpse now and then as the monster rose and fell with the billows, was entirely covered with metallic scales, of a colour like that of the moon in misty weather. The back was flat and nearly white, and from it there extended upwards four spines, about half the length of the whole body.

“ ‘This horrible creature had no mouth that we could perceive; but, as if to make up for this deficiency, it was provided with at least four score of eyes, that protruded from their sockets like those of the green dragon-fly, and were arranged all around the body in two rows, one above the other, and parallel to the blood-red streak, which seemed to answer the purpose of an eyebrow. Two or three of these dreadful eyes were much larger than the others, and had the appearance of solid gold.

“ ‘Although this beast approached us, as I have before said, with the greatest rapidity, it must have been moved altogether by necromancy — for it had neither fins like a fish nor web-feet like a duck, nor wings like the sea-shell which is blown along in the manner of a vessel; nor yet did it writhe itself forward as do the eels. Its head and its tail were shaped precisely alike, only, not far from the latter, were two small holes that served for nostrils, and through which the monster puffed out its thick breath with prodigious violence, and with a shrieking, disagreeable noise.

“ ‘Our terror at beholding this hideous thing was very great; but it was even surpassed by our astonishment when, upon getting a nearer look, we perceived upon the creature’s back a vast number of animals about the size and shape of men, and altogether much resembling them, except that they wore no garments (as men do), being supplied (by nature, no doubt) with an ugly, uncomfortable covering, a good deal like cloth, but fitting so tight to the skin as to render the poor wretches laughably awkward and put them apparently to severe pain. On the very tips of their heads were certain square-looking boxes, which, at first sight, I thought might have been intended to answer as turbans, but I soon discovered that they were excessively heavy and solid, and I, therefore, concluded they were contrivances designed, by their great weight, to keep the heads of the animals steady and safe upon their shoulders. Around the necks of the creatures were fastened black collars, (badges of servitude, no doubt,) such as we keep on our dogs, only much wider and infinitely stiffer, so that it was quite impossible for these poor victims to move their heads in any direction without moving the body at the same time; and thus they were doomed to perpetual contemplation of their noses — a view puggish and snubby in a wonderful, if not positively in an awful degree.

“ ‘When the monster had nearly reached the shore where we stood, it suddenly pushed out one of its eyes to a great extent, and emitted from it a terrible flash of fire, accompanied by a dense cloud of smoke and a noise that I can compare to nothing but thunder. As the smoke cleared away, we saw one of the odd man-animals standing near the head of the large beast with a trumpet in his hand, through which (putting it to his mouth) he presently addressed us in loud, harsh and disagreeable accents, that, perhaps, we should have mistaken for language had they not come altogether through the nose.

“ ‘Being thus evidently spoken to, I was at a loss how to reply, as I could in no manner understand what was said; and in this difficulty I turned to the porter, who was near swooning through affright, and demanded of him his opinion as to what species of monster it was, what it wanted, and what kind of creatures those were that so swarmed upon its back. To this the porter replied, as well as he could for trepidation, that he had once before heard of this sea-beast; that it was a cruel demon, with bowels of sulphur and blood of fire, created by evil genii as the means of inflicting misery upon mankind; that the things upon its back were vermin, such as sometimes infest cats and dogs, only a little larger and more savage; and that these vermin had their uses, however evil — for, through the torture they caused the beast by their nibbling and stingings, it was goaded into that degree of wrath which was requisite to make it roar and commit ill, and so fulfil the vengeful and malicious designs of the wicked genii.

“ ‘This account determined me to take to my heels, and, without once even looking behind me, I ran at full speed up into the hills, while the porter ran equally fast, although nearly in an opposite direction, so that, by these means, he finally made his escape with my bundles, of which I have no doubt he took excellent care — although this is a point I cannot determine, as I do not remember that I ever beheld him again.

“ ‘For myself, I was so hotly pursued by a swarm of the men-vermin (who had come to the shore in boats) that I was very soon overtaken, bound hand and foot and conveyed to the beast, which immediately swam out again into the middle of the sea.

“ ‘I now bitterly repented my folly in quitting a comfortable home to peril my life in such adventures as this; but regret being useless, I made the best of my condition and exerted myself to secure the good-will of the man-animal that owned the trumpet, and who appeared to exercise authority over its fellows. I succeeded so well in this endeavour that, in a few days, the creature bestowed upon me various tokens of its favour, and, in the end, even went to the trouble of teaching me the rudiments of what it was vain enough to denominate its language; so that, at length, I was enabled to converse with it readily, and came to make it comprehend the ardent desire I had of seeing the world.

“ ‘Washish squashish squeak, Sinbad, hey-diddle diddle, grunt unt grumble, hiss, fiss, whiss,’ said he to me, one day after dinner — but I beg a thousand pardons, I had forgotten that your majesty is not conversant with the dialect of the Cock-neighs, (so the man-animals were called; I presume because their language formed the connecting link between that of the horse and that of the rooster.) With your permission, I will translate. ‘Washish squashish,’ and so forth, that is to say, ‘I am happy to find, my dear Sinbad, that you are really a very excellent fellow; we are now about doing a thing which is called circumnavigating the globe; and since you are so desirous of seeing the world, I will strain a point and give you a free passage upon the back of the beast.’ ”

When the Lady Scheherazade had proceeded thus far, relates the “Isitsöornot,” the king turned over from his left side to his right, and said —

“It is, in fact, very surprising, my dear queen, that you omitted, hitherto, these latter adventures of Sinbad. Do you know I think them exceedingly entertaining and strange?”

The king having thus expressed himself, we are told, the fair Scheherazade resumed her history in the following words: —

“Sinbad went on, in this manner, with his narrative to the caliph — ‘I thanked the man-animal for its kindness, and soon found myself very much at home on the beast, which swam at a prodigious rate through the ocean; although the surface of the latter is, in that part of the world, by no means flat, but round like a pomegranate, so that we went — so to say — either up hill or down hill all the time.’ ”

“That, I think, was very singular,” interrupted the king.

“Nevertheless, it is quite true,” replied Scheherazade.

“I have my doubts,” rejoined the king; “but, pray, be so good as to go on with the story.”

“I will,” said the queen. ‘The beast,’ continued Sinbad to the caliph, ‘swam, as I have related, up hill and down hill, until, at length, we arrived at an island, many hundreds of miles in circumference, but which, nevertheless, had been built in the middle of the sea by a colony of little things like caterpillars.’ ”*

“Hum!” said the king.

“ ‘Leaving this island,’ said Sinbad — (for Scheherazade, it must be understood, took no notice of her husband’s ill-mannered ejaculation) — ‘leaving this island, we came to another where the forests were of solid stone, and so hard that they shivered to pieces the finest-tempered axes with which we endeavoured to cut them down.’ ”†

“Hum!” said the king, again; but Scheherazade, paying him no attention, continued in the language of Sinbad.

“ ‘Passing beyond this last island, we reached a country where there was a cave that ran to the distance of thirty or forty miles within the bowels of the earth, and that contained a greater number of far more spacious and more magnificent palaces than are to be found in all Damascus and Bagdad. From the roofs of these palaces there hung myriads of gems, like diamonds, but larger than men; and in among the streets of towers and pyramids and temples, there flowed immense rivers as black as ebony and swarming with fish that had no eyes.’ ”‡

“Hum!” said the king.

“ ‘We then swam into a region of the sea where we found a lofty mountain, down whose sides there streamed torrents of melted metal, some of which were twelve miles wide and sixty miles long; * while, from an abyss on the summit, issued so vast a quantity of ashes that the sun was entirely blotted out from the heavens, and it became darker than the darkest midnight; so that, when we were even at the distance of a hundred and fifty miles from the mountain, it was impossible to see the whitest object however close we held it to our eyes.’ ”†

“Hum!” said the king.

“ ‘After quitting this coast, the beast continued his voyage until we met with a land in which the nature of things was altogether reversed — for we here saw a great lake, at the bottom of which, more than a hundred feet beneath the surface of the water, there flourished in full leaf a forest of tall and luxuriant trees.’ ”‡

“Hoo!” said the king.

“ ‘Proceeding still in the same direction, we presently arrived at the most magnificent region in the whole world. Through it there meandered a glorious river for several thousands of miles. This river was of unspeakable depth, and of a transparency richer than that of amber. It was from three to six miles in width; and its banks, which arose on either side to twelve hundred feet in perpendicular height, were crowned with ever-blossoming trees and perpetual sweet-scented flowers that made the whole territory one gorgeous garden; but the name of this luxuriant land was the kingdom of horror, and to enter it was inevitable death.’ ”§

“Humph!” said the king.

“ ‘We left this kingdom in great haste, and, after some days, came to another, where we were astonished to perceive myriads of monstrous animals with horns resembling scythes upon their heads. These hideous beasts dig for themselves vast caverns in the soil, of a funnel shape, and line the sides of them with rocks, so disposed one upon the other that they fall instantly when trodden upon by other animals, thus precipitating them into the monsters’ dens, where their blood is immediately sucked, and their carcasses afterwards hurled contemptuously out to an immense distance from the caverns of death.’ ”*

“Pish!” said the king.

“ ‘Continuing our progress, we perceived a district abounding with vegetables that grew not upon any soil but in the air.† There were others that sprang from the substance of other vegetables;‡ others that derived their sustenance from the bodies of living animals;§ and then, again, there were others that glowed all over with intense fire;|| and what is still more wonderful, we discovered flowers that lived and breathed and moved their limbs at will, and had, moreover, the detestable passion of mankind for enslaving other creatures, and confining them in horrid and solitary prisons until the fulfillment of appointed tasks.’ ”¶

“Pshaw!” said the king.

“ ‘Quitting this land, we soon arrived at another in which the bees and the birds are mathematicians of such genius and erudition, that they give daily instructions in the science of geometry to the wise men of the empire. The king of the place having offered a reward for the solution of two very difficult problems, they were solved upon the spot — the one by the bees, and the other by the birds; but the king, keeping their solutions a secret, it was only after the most profound researches and labour, and the writing of an infinity of big books, during a long series of years, that the men-mathematicians at length arrived at the identical solutions which had been given upon the spot by the bees and by the birds.’ ”*

“Oh my!” said the king.

“ ‘We had scarcely lost sight of this empire when we found ourselves close upon another, from whose shores there flew over our heads a flock of fowls a mile in breadth and two hundred and forty miles long; so that, although they flew a mile during every minute, it required no less than four hours for the whole flock to pass over us — in which there were several millions of millions of fowls.’ ”‡

“Oh fy!” said the king.

“ ‘No sooner had we got rid of these birds which occasioned us great annoyance, than we were terrified by the appearance of a fowl of another kind, and infinitely larger than even the rocs which I met in my former voyages; for it was bigger than the biggest of the domes upon your seraglio, oh, most munificent of caliphs. This terrible fowl had no head that we could perceive, but was fashioned entirely of belly, which was of a prodigious fatness and roundness, of a soft-looking substance, smooth, shining and striped with various colours. In its talons, the monster was bearing away to his eyrie in the heavens, a house from which it had knocked off the roof, and in the interior of which we distinctly saw human beings, who, beyond doubt, were in a state of frightful despair at the horrible fate which awaited them. We shouted with all our might, in the hope of frightening the bird into letting go of its prey; but it merely gave a snort or puff, as if of rage, and then let fall upon our heads a heavy sack which proved to be filled with sand!’ ”

“Stuff!” said the king.

“ ‘It was just after this adventure that we encountered a continent of immense extent and of prodigious solidity, but which, nevertheless, was supported entirely upon the back of a sky-blue cow that had no fewer than four hundred horns.’ ”*

“That, now, I believe,” said the king, “because I have read something of the kind before, in a book.”

“ ‘We passed immediately beneath this continent, (swimming in between the legs of the cow,) and, after some hours, found ourselves in a wonderful country indeed, which, I was informed by the man-animal, was his own native land, inhabited by things of his own species. This elevated the man-animal very much in my esteem; and in fact, I now began to feel ashamed of the contemptuous familiarity with which I had treated him; for I found that the man-animals in general were a nation of the most powerful magicians, who lived with worms in their brains,† which, no doubt served to stimulate them by their painful writhings and wrigglings to the most miraculous efforts of imagination.’ ”

“Nonsense!” said the king.

“ ‘Among these magicians, were domesticated several animals of very singular kinds; for example, there was a huge horse whose bones were iron and whose blood was boiling water. In place of corn, he had black stones for his usual food; and yet, in spite of so hard a diet he was so strong and swift that he would drag a load more weighty than the grandest temple in this city, at a rate surpassing that of the flight of most birds.’ ”

“Twattle!” said the king.

“ ‘I saw, also, among these people a hen without feathers, but bigger than a camel; instead of flesh and bone she had iron and brick; her blood, like that of the horse, (to whom in fact she was nearly related,) was boiling water; and like him she ate nothing but wood or black stones. This hen brought forth very frequently, a hundred chickens in the day; and, after birth, they took up their residence for several weeks within the stomach of their mother.’ ”‡

“Fal lal!” said the king.

“ ‘One of this nation of mighty conjurors created a man out of brass and wood, and leather, and endowed him with such ingenuity that he would have beaten at chess, all the race of mankind with the exception of the great Caliph, Haroun Alraschid.* Another of these magi constructed (of like material) a creature that put to shame even the genius of him who made it; for so great were its reasoning powers that, in a second, it performed calculations of so vast an extent that they would have required the united labour of fifty thousand fleshy men for a year.† But a still more wonderful conjuror fashioned for himself a mighty thing that was neither man nor beast, but which had brains of lead intermixed with a black matter like pitch, and fingers that it employed with such incredible speed and dexterity that it would have had no trouble in writing out twenty thousand copies of the Koran in an hour; and this with so exquisite a precision, that in all the copies there should not be found one to vary from another by the breadth of the finest hair. This thing was of prodigious strength, so that it erected or overthrew the mightiest empires at a breath; but its power was exercised equally for evil and for good.’ ”

“Ridiculous!” said the king.

“ ‘Among this nation of necromancers there was also one who had in his veins the blood of the salamanders; for he made no scruple of sitting down to smoke his chibouc in a red-hot oven until his dinner was thoroughly roasted upon its floor.‡ Another had the faculty of converting the common metals into gold, without even looking at them during the process.§ Another had such delicacy of touch that he made a wire so fine as to be invisible.|| Another had such quickness of perception that he counted all the separate motions of an elastic body, while it was springing backwards and forwards at the rate of nine hundred millions of times in a second.’ ”¶

“Absurd!” said the king.

“ ‘Another of these magicians, by means of a fluid that nobody ever yet saw, could make the corpses of his friends brandish their arms, kick out their legs, fight, or even get up and dance at his will.** Another had cultivated his voice to so great an extent that he could have made himself heard from one end of the earth to the other.†† Another commanded the lightning to come down to him out of the heavens, and it came at his call; and served him for a plaything when it came. Another took two loud sounds and out of them made a silence. Another constructed a deep darkness out of two brilliant lights.* Another directed the sun to paint his portrait, and the sun did.† Another took this luminary with the moon and the planets, and having first weighed them with scrupulous accuracy, probed into their depths and found out the solidity of the substance of which they were made. But the whole nation is, indeed, of so surprising a necromantic ability, that not even their infants, nor their commonest cats and dogs have any difficulty in seeing objects that do not exist at all, or that for twenty thousand years before the birth of the nation itself, had been blotted out from the face of creation.’ ”‡

“Preposterous!” said the king.

“ ‘The wives and daughters of these incomparably great and wise magi,’ ” continued Scheherazade, without being in any manner disturbed by these frequent and most ungentlemanly interruptions on the part of her husband — “ ‘the wives and daughters of these eminent conjurers are every thing that is accomplished and refined; and would be every thing that is interesting and beautiful, but for an unhappy fatality that besets them, and from which not even the miraculous power of their husbands and fathers has, hitherto, been adequate to save. Some fatalities come in certain shapes, and some in others — but this of which I speak, has come in the shape of a horrible crotchet.’ ”

“A what?” said the king.

“ ‘A crotchet,’ ” said Scheherazade. “ ‘One of the evil genii who are perpetually upon the watch to inflict ill, has put it into the heads of these accomplished ladies that the thing which we describe as personal beauty, consists altogether in the protuberance of the region which lies not very far below the small of the back. Perfection of loveliness, they say, is in the direct ratio of the extent of this hump. Having been long possessed of this idea, and bolsters being cheap in that country, the days have long gone by since it was possible to distinguish a woman from a dromedary —’ ”

“Stop!” said the king — “I can’t stand that, and I won’t. You have already given me a dreadful headache with your lies. The day, too, I perceive, is beginning to break. How long have we been married? Besides my conscience is getting to be troublesome again. And then that dromedary touch — do you take me for a fool? Upon the whole you might as well get up and be throttled.”

These words, as I learn from the “Isitsöornot,” both grieved and astonished Scheherazade; but, as she knew the king to be a man of scrupulous integrity, and quite unlikely to forfeit his word, she submitted to her fate with a good grace. She derived, however, great consolation, (during the tightening of the bowstring,) from the reflection that much of the history remained still untold, and that the petulance of her brute of a husband had reaped for him a most righteous reward, in depriving him of many inconceivable adventures.

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Edgar Allan Poe

Published in 1845

All the marvels mentioned by Scheherazade are real places and things. Click the hyperlinks within the text to see what they really are.

Thou art the Man

I will now play the Œdipus to the Rattleborough enigma. I will expound to you — as I alone can — the secret of the enginery that effected the Rattleborough miracle — the one — the true — the admitted — the undisputed — the indisputable miracle which put a definite end to infidelity among the Rattleburghers, and converted to the orthodoxy of the grandames, all the carnal-minded who had ventured to be skeptical before.

This event — which I should be sorry to discuss in a tone of unsuitable levity — occurred in the summer of 18—. Mr Barnabas Shuttleworthy, one of the wealthiest and most respectable citizens of the borough, had been missing, for several days, under circumstances which gave rise to suspicion of foul play. Mr Shuttleworthy had set out from Rattleborough, very early one Saturday morning, on horseback, with the avowed intention of proceeding to the city of —— , about fifteen miles distant, and of returning the night of the same day. Two hours after his departure, however, his horse returned without him, and without the saddle-bags which had been strapped on his back at starting. The animal was wounded, too, and covered with mud. These circumstances naturally gave rise to much alarm among the friends of the missing man, and when it was found, on Sunday morning, that he had not yet made his appearance, the whole borough arose en masse, to go and look for his body.

The foremost and most energetic in instituting this search, was the bosom friend of Mr Shuttleworthy — a Mr Charles Goodfellow, or, as he was universally called, “Charley Goodfellow,” or “Old Charley Goodfellow.” Now whether it is a marvellous coincidence, or whether it is that the name itself has an imperceptible effect upon the character, I have never yet been able to ascertain — but the fact is unquestionable, that there never yet was any person named Charles, who was not an open, manly, honest, good-natured, and frank-hearted fellow, with a rich, clear voice, that did you good to hear it, and an eye that looked you always straight in the face, as much as to say “I have a clear conscience, myself, — am afraid of no man, — and am altogether above doing a mean action.” And thus all the hearty, careless, “walking gentlemen” of the stage, are very certain to be called Charles.

Now “Old Charley Goodfellow,” although he had been in Rattleborough not longer than six months, or thereabouts, and although nobody knew anything about him before he came to settle in the neighbourhood, had experienced no difficulty in the world in making the acquaintance of all the respectable people in the borough. Not a man of them but would have taken his bare word for a thousand at any moment; and, as for the women, there is no saying what they would not have done to oblige him. And all this came of his having been christened Charles, and of his possessing, in consequence, that ingenuous face which is proverbially the very “best letter of recommendation.”

I have already said that Mr Shuttleworthy was one of the most respectable, and, undoubtedly he was the most wealthy man in Rattleborough, while “Old Charley Goodfellow” was upon as intimate terms with him as if he had been his own brother. The two old gentlemen were next-door neighbours, and although Mr Shuttleworthy seldom, if ever, visited “Old Charley,” and never was known to take a meal in his house, still this did not prevent the two friends from being exceedingly intimate, as I have just observed; for “Old Charley” never let a day pass, without stepping in three or four times to see how his neighbour came on; and very often he would stay to breakfast, or tea; and almost always to dinner; and then the amount of wine that was made way with by the two cronies at a sitting, it would really be a difficult thing to ascertain. Old Charley’s favorite beverage was Chateau Margaux, and it appeared to do Mr Shuttleworthy’s heart good to see the old fellow swallow it, as he did, quart after quart; so that, one day, when the wine was in, and the wit, as a natural consequence, somewhat out, he said to his crony, as he slapped him upon the back — “I tell you what it is, Old Charley, — you are, by all odds, the heartiest old fellow I ever came across in all my born days; and, since you love to guzzle the wine at that fashion, I’ll be darned if I don’t have to make thee a present of a big box of the Chateau Margaux. Od rot me” (Mr Shuttleworthy had a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went beyond “Od rot me,” or “By gosh,” or “By the jolly golly”) — “Od rot me” says he, “if I don’t send an order to town, this very afternoon, for a double box of the best that can be got — and I’ll make ye a present of it — I will — ye need’nt say a word, now — I will, I tell ye, and there’s an end of it; so look out for it — it will come to hand some of these fine days, precisely when ye are looking for it the least.” — I mention this little bit of liberality, on the part of Mr Shuttleworthy, just by way of showing you how very intimate an understanding existed between the two friends.

Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it came to be fairly understood that Mr Shuttleworthy had met with foul play, I never saw any one so profoundly affected as Old Charley Goodfellow. When he first heard that the horse had come home without his master, and without his master’s saddle-bags, and all bloody from a pistol shot that had gone clean through and through the poor animal’s chest, without quite killing him; — when he heard all this, he turned as pale as if the missing man had been his own dear brother, or father, and shivered and shook all over, as if he had had a fit of the ague.

At first, he was too much overpowered with grief to be able to do anything at all, or to concert upon any plan of action — so that, for a long time, he endeavoured to dissuade Mr Shuttleworthy’s other friends from making a stir about the matter — thinking it best to wait a while — say for a week or two, or a month or two, to see if something would’nt turn up, or if Mr Shuttleworthy would’nt come in the natural way, and explain his reasons for sending his horse on before. I dare say you have often observed this disposition to temporize, or to procrastinate, in people who are laboring under any very poignant sorrow. Their powers of mind seem to be rendered torpid, so that they have a horror of anything like action, and like nothing in the world so well as to lie quietly in bed and “nurse their grief,” as the old ladies express it — that is to say, ruminate over their trouble.

The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high an opinion of the wisdom and discretion of “Old Charley” that the greater part of them felt disposed to agree with him, and not make a stir in the business “until something should turn up,” as the honest old gentleman worded it; and I believe that, after all, this would have been the general determination, but for the very suspicious interference of Mr Shuttleworthy’s nephew, a young man of very dissipated habits, and otherwise of rather bad character. This nephew — whose name was Pennifeather — would listen to nothing like reason, in the matter of “lying quiet,” but insisted upon making immediate search for the “corpse of the murdered man.” This was the expression he employed; and Mr Goodfellow acutely remarked, at the time, that it was “a singular expression, to say no more.” This remark of Old Charley’s, too, had great effect upon the crowd; and one of the party was heard to ask, very impressively, “how it happened that young Mr Pennifeather was so intimately cognizant of all the circumstances connected with his wealthy uncle’s disappearance, as to feel authorized to assert, distinctly and unequivocally, that his uncle was ‘a murdered man’.” Hereupon some little squibbing and bickering occurred, among various members of the crowd, and especially between “Old Charley” and Mr Pennifeather — although this latter occurrence was, indeed, by no means a novelty; for no good will had subsisted between the parties for the last three or four months; and matters had even gone so far that Mr Pennifeather had actually knocked down his uncle’s friend, for some alleged excess of liberty that the latter had taken in the uncle’s house, of which the nephew was an inmate. Upon this occasion “Old Charley” is said to have behaved with exemplary moderation and Christian charity. He arose from the blow, adjusted his clothes, and made no attempt at retaliation at all; — merely muttering a few words about “taking summary vengeance at the first convenient opportunity” — a natural and very justifiable ebullition of anger, — which meant nothing, however; and, beyond doubt, was no sooner given vent to than forgotten.

However these matters may be, (which have no reference to the point now at issue,) it is quite certain that the people of Rattleborough, principally through the persuasion of Mr Pennifeather, came, at length, to the determination of dispersing over the adjacent country, in search of the missing Mr Shuttleworthy. I say they came to this determination, in the first instance. After it had been fully resolved that a search should be made, it was considered almost a matter of course that the seekers should disperse — that is to say distribute themselves in parties — for the more thorough examination of the region round about. I forget, however, by what ingenious train of reasoning it was, that “Old Charley” finally convinced the assembly that this was the most injudicious plan that could be pursued. Convince them, however, he did — all except Mr Pennifeather — and, in the end, it was arranged that a search should be instituted carefully, and very thoroughly, by the burghers en masse; “Old Charley” himself leading the way.

As for the matter of that, there could have been no better pioneer than “Old Charley,” whom every body knew to have the eye of a lynx; but, although he led them into all  manner of out-of-the-way holes and corners, by routes that nobody had ever suspected of existing in the neighbourhood; and although the search was incessantly kept up, day and night, for nearly a week, still no trace of Mr Shuttleworthy could be discovered. When I say no trace, however, I must not be understood to speak literally — for trace, to some extent, there certainly was. The poor gentleman had been tracked, by his horse’s shoes, (which were peculiar,) to a spot about three miles to the east of the borough, on the main road, leading to the city. Here the track made off into a by-path through a piece of woodland — this path coming out again into the main road and cutting off about half a mile of the regular distance. Following the shoe-marks down this lane, the party came, at length, to a pool of stagnant water, half hidden by the brambles to the right of the lane; and opposite this pool all vestige of the track was lost sight of. It appeared, however, that a struggle of some nature had here taken place, and it seemed as if some large and heavy body — much larger and heavier than a man — had been dragged from the by-path to the pool. This latter was carefully dragged, twice; but nothing was found; and the party were upon the point of going away, in despair of coming to any result, when Providence suggested to Mr Goodfellow the expediency of draining the water off altogether. This project was received with cheers, and many high compliments to “Old Charley” upon his sagacity and consideration. As many of the burghers had brought spades with them, supposing that they might possibly be called upon to disinter a corpse, the drain was easily and speedily effected; and no sooner was the bottom visible, than, right in the middle of the mud that remained, was discovered a black silk velvet waistcoat, which nearly every one present immediately recognized as the property of Mr Pennifeather. This waistcoat was much torn, and stained with blood; and there were several persons, among the party, who had a distinct remembrance of its having been worn by its owner on the very morning of Mr Shuttleworthy’s departure for the city; while there were others, again, ready to testify upon oath, if required, that Mr P. did not wear the garment in question, at any period during the remainder of that memorable day; — nor could any one be found to say that he had seen it upon Mr P.’s person at any period at all, subsequent to Mr Shuttleworthy’s disappearance.

Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr Pennifeather, and it was observed, as an indubitable confirmation of the suspicions which were excited against him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and when asked what he had to say for himself, was utterly incapable of saying a word. Hereupon, the few friends his riotous mode of living had left him, deserted him, at once, to a man, and were even more clamorous than his ancient and avowed enemies, for his instantaneous arrest. But, on the other hand, the magnanimity of Mr Goodfellow shone forth with only the more brilliant lustre, through contrast. He made a warm and intensely eloquent defence of Mr Pennifeather, in which he alluded, more than once, to his own sincere forgiveness of that wild young gentleman — “the heir of the worthy Mr Shuttleworthy” — for the insult which he (the young gentleman) had, no doubt in the heat of passion, thought proper to put upon him (Mr Goodfellow). “He forgave him for it,” he said, “from the very bottom of his heart; and, for himself, (Mr Goodfellow), so far from pushing the suspicious circumstances to extremity, which, he was sorry to say, really had arisen against Mr Pennifeather, he (Mr Goodfellow) would make every exertion in his power — would employ all the little eloquence in his possession — to — to — to — soften down, as much as he could conscientiously do so, the worst features of this really exceedingly perplexing piece of business.”

Mr Goodfellow went on, for some half hour longer, in this strain, very much to the credit both of his head and of his heart; but your warm-hearted people are seldom apposite in their observations; — they run into all sorts of blunders, contre-temps and mal à propos -isms, in the hot-headedness of their zeal to serve a friend; thus, often, with the kindest intentions in the world, doing infinitely more to prejudice his cause, than to advance it.

So, in the present instance, it turned out with all the eloquence of “Old Charley”; for, although he laboured earnestly in behalf of the suspected, yet it so happened, somehow or other, that every syllable he uttered of which the direct but unwitting tendency was not to exalt the speaker in the good opinion of his audience, had the effect to deepen the suspicion already attached to the individual whose cause he pleaded, and to arouse against him the fury of the mob.

One of the most unaccountable errors committed by the orator, was his allusion to the suspected, as “the heir of the worthy old gentleman, Mr Shuttleworthy.” The people had really never thought of this before. They had only remembered certain threats of disinheritance uttered, a year or two previously, by the uncle (who had no living relative except the nephew); and they had, therefore, always looked upon this disinheritance as a matter that was settled — so single-minded a race of beings were the Rattleburghers; — but the remark of “Old Charley” brought them at once to a consideration of this point, and thus gave them to see the possibility of the threats having been nothing more than a threat. And straightway, hereupon, arose the natural question of cui bono? — a question that tended, even more than the waistcoat, to fasten the terrible crime upon the young man. And here, lest I be misunderstood, permit me to digress, for one moment, merely to observe that the exceedingly brief and simple Latin phrase which I have employed, is invariably mistranslated and misconceived. “Cui bono”, in all the crack novels, and elsewhere, — in those of Mrs Gore, for example (the author of “Cecil”) a lady who quotes all tongues from the Chaldæan to Chickasaw, and is helped to her learning, “as needed,” upon a systematic plan, by Mr Beckford; — in all the crack novels, I say, from those of Bulwer and Dickens, to those of Turnapenny and Ainsworth, the two little Latin words cui bono, are rendered “to what purpose,” or, (as if quo bono) , “to what good.” Their true meaning, nevertheless, is “for whose advantage.” Cui, to whom; bono, is it for a benefit. It is a purely legal phrase, and applicable precisely in cases such as we have now under consideration, where the probability of the doer of a deed, hinges upon the probability of the benefit accruing to this individual, or to that, from the deed’s accomplishment. Now, in the present instance, the question, cui bono, very pointedly implicated Mr Pennifeather. His uncle had threatened him, after making a will in his favor, with disinheritance. But the threat had not been actually kept; the original will, it appeared, had not been altered. Had it been altered, the only supposable motive for murder, on the part of the suspected, would have been the ordinary one of revenge; and even this would have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation into the good graces of the uncle. But, the will being unaltered, while the threat to alter remained suspended over the nephew’s head, there appears, at once, the very strongest possible inducement for the atrocity: and so concluded, very sagaciously, the worthy citizens of the borough of Rattle.

Mr Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon the spot; and the crowd, after some farther search, proceeded homewards, having him in custody. On the route, however, another circumstance occurred, tending to confirm the suspicion entertained. Mr Goodfellow, whose zeal led him to be always a little in advance of the party, was seen suddenly to run forward a few paces, stoop, and then, apparently, to pick up some small object from the grass. Having quickly examined it, he was observed, too, to make a sort of half attempt at concealing it in his coat-pocket; but this action was noticed, as I say, and consequently prevented; when the object picked up was found to be a Spanish knife, which a dozen persons at once recognized as belonging to Mr Pennifeather. Moreover, his initials were engraved upon the handle. The blade of this knife was open, and bloody.

No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew, and, immediately upon reaching Rattleborough, he was taken before a magistrate for examination.

Here matters again took a most unfavourable turn. The prisoner, being questioned as to his whereabouts on the morning of Mr Shuttleworthy’s disappearance, had absolutely the audacity to acknowledge that, on that very morning, he had been out with his rifle, deer-stalking, in the immediate neighbourhood of the pool where the blood-stained waistcoat had been discovered, through the sagacity of Mr Goodfellow.

This latter now came forward, and, with tears in his eyes, asked permission to be examined. He said that stern sense of the duty he owed to his Maker, not less than to his fellow men, would permit him no longer to remain silent. Hitherto, the sincerest affection for the young man (notwithstanding the latter’s ill treatment of himself, Mr Goodfellow), had induced him to make every hypothesis which imagination could suggest, by way of endeavoring to account for what appeared suspicious, in the circumstances that told so seriously against Mr Pennifeather; — but these circumstances were now altogether too convincing — too damning; — he would hesitate no longer; — he would tell all he knew — although his heart (Mr Goodfellow’s) should absolutely burst asunder in the effort. He then went on to state that, on the afternoon of the day previous to Mr Shuttleworthy’s departure for the city, that worthy old gentleman had mentioned to his nephew, in his hearing (Mr Goodfellow’s), that his object in going to town on the morrow, was to make a deposit of an unusually large sum of money, in the “Farmer’s and Mechanics’ Bank”; and that, then and there, the said Mr Shuttleworthy had distinctly avowed to the said nephew, his irrevocable determination of rescinding the will originally made, and of cutting him off with a shilling. He, (the witness), now solemnly called upon the accused to state whether what he, (the witness), had just stated, was, or was not, the truth, in every substantial particular. Much to the astonishment of every one present, Mr Pennifeather frankly admitted that it was.

The magistrate now considered it his duty to send a couple of constables to search the chamber of the accused, in the house of his uncle. From this search they almost immediately returned, with the well-known, steel-bound, russet-leather pocket-book, which the old gentleman had been in the habit of carrying for years. Its valuable contents, however, had been abstracted; and the magistrate in vain endeavoured to extort from the prisoner the use which had been made of them, or the place of their concealment. Indeed he obstinately denied all knowledge of the matter. The constables also discovered, between the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a shirt and neck-handkerchief, both marked with the initials of his name, and both hideously besmeared with the blood of the victim.

At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of the murdered man had just expired in the stable from the effects of the wound he had received, and it was proposed by Mr Goodfellow, that a post mortem examination of the beast should be immediately made, with the view, if possible, of discovering the ball. This was accordingly done; and, as if to demonstrate, beyond a question, the guilt of the accused, Mr Goodfellow, after considerable searching in the cavity of the chest, was enabled to detect, and to pull forth, a bullet of very extraordinary size, which, upon trial, was found to be exactly adapted to the bore of Mr Pennifeather’s rifle, while it was far too large for that of any other person in the borough, or its vicinity. To render the matter even surer yet, however, this bullet was discovered to have a flaw, or seam, at right angles to the usual suture; and, upon examination, this seam corresponded precisely with an accidental ridge, or elevation, in a pair of moulds, acknowledged by the accused himself to be his own property. Upon the finding of this bullet, the examining magistrate refused to listen to any farther testimony, and immediately committed the prisoner for trial; declining, resolutely, to take any bail in the case; although against this severity Mr Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, and offered to become surety in whatever amount might be required. This generosity on the part of “Old Charley,” was only in accordance with the whole tenor of his amiable and chivalrous conduct, during the entire period of his sojourn in the borough of Rattle. In the present instance, the worthy man was so entirely carried away by the excessive warmth of his sympathy, that he seemed to have quite forgotten, when he offered to go bail for his young friend, that he himself (Mr Goodfellow) did not possess a single dollar’s worth of property upon the face of the earth.

The result of the committal may be readily foreseen. Mr Pennifeather, amid the loud execrations of all Rattleborough, was brought to trial at the next Criminal Sessions; when the chain of circumstantial evidence, (strengthened, as it was, by some additional damning facts, which Mr Goodfellow’s sensitive conscientiousness forbade him to withhold from the court), was considered so unbroken and so thoroughly conclusive, that the jury, without leaving their seats, returned an immediate verdict of “Guilty of Murder in the First Degree.” Soon afterwards the unhappy wretch received sentence of death, and was remanded to the county jail, to await the inexorable vengeance of the Law.

In the meantime, the noble behaviour of “Old Charley Goodfellow” had doubly endeared him to the honest citizens of the borough. He became ten times a greater favorite than ever; and, as a natural result of the hospitality with which he was treated, he relaxed, as it were, perforce, the extremely parsimonious habits which his poverty had hitherto impelled him to observe, and very frequently had little réunions at his own house, when wit and jollity reigned supreme — dampened a little, of course, by the occasional remembrance of the untoward and melancholy fate which impended over the nephew of the late lamented bosom friend of the generous host.

One fine day, this magnanimous old gentleman was agreeably surprized at the receipt of the following letter:

Chat. Mar. A — No. 1 — 6 Doz. Bottles (1/2 Gross).

From H. F. B. & co.

Charles Goodfellow, Esq., Rattleborough.

 

Charles Goodfellow, Esquire,

Dr Sir,

In conformity with an order transmitted to our firm, about two months since, by our esteemed correspondent, Mr Barnabus Shuttleworthy, we have the honor of forwarding, this morning, to your address, a double box of Chateau-Margaux, of the antelope brand, violet seal. Box numbered and marked as per margin.

We remain, Sir,  
Yr. mo. ob. sts,  
Hoggs, Frogs, Bogs & co.  
==================   

City of —, June 21rst, 18—.

P.S. — The box will reach you, by wagon, on the day after your receipt of this letter. Our respects to Mr Shuttleworthy.

H. F. B. & co.

The fact is that Mr Goodfellow had, since the death of Mr Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation of ever receiving the promised Chateau-Margaux; and he, therefore looked upon it, now, as a sort of especial dispensation of Providence in his behalf. He was highly delighted, of course; and, in the exuberance of his joy, invited a large party of friends to a petit souper, on the morrow, for the purpose of broaching the good old Mr Shuttleworthy’s present. Not that he said anything about “the good old Mr Shuttleworthy” when he issued the invitations. The fact is, he thought much, and concluded to say nothing at all. He did not mention to any one — if I remember aright — that he had received a present of Chateau-Margaux. He merely asked his friends to come and help him to drink some, of a remarkably fine quality, and rich flavor, that he had ordered up from the city, a couple of months ago, and of which he would be in the receipt upon the morrow. I have often puzzled myself to imagine why it was that “Old Charley” came to the conclusion to say nothing about having received the wine from his old friend — but I could never precisely understand his reason for the silence — although he had some excellent and very magnanimous reason, no doubt.

The morrow at length arrived, and, with it, a very large and highly respectable company at Mr Goodfellow’s house. Indeed, half the borough was there — I myself among the number — but, much to the vexation of the host, the Chateau-Margaux did not arrive until a late hour, and when the sumptuous supper, supplied by “Old Charley”, had been done very ample justice by the guests. It came at length, however, — a monstrously big box of it there was, too, — and as the whole party were in excessively good humour, it was decided, nem: con:, that it should be lifted upon the table, and its contents disembowelled forthwith.

No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; and, in a trice, we had the box upon the table, in the midst of all the bottles and glasses, not a few of which were demolished in the scuffle. “Old Charley,” who was pretty much intoxicated, and excessively red in the face, now took a seat, with an air of mock dignity, at the head of the board, and thumped furiously upon it with a decanter, calling upon the company to keep order “during the ceremony of disinterring the treasure.”

After some vociferation, quiet was, at length, fully restored, and, as very often happens in similar cases, a profound and remarkable silence ensued. Being then requested to force open the lid, I complied, of course, “with an infinite deal of pleasure.” I inserted a chisel, and, giving it a few slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flew suddenly and violently off, and, at the same instant, there sprang up into a sitting position, directly facing the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearly putrid corpse of the murdered Mr Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed, for a few moments, fixedly and sorrowfully, with its decaying and lack-lustre eyes, full into the countenance of Mr Goodfellow; uttered slowly, but clearly and impressively, the words “Thou art the Man!”; and then, falling over the side of the chest, as if thoroughly satisfied, stretched out its limbs, quiveringly, upon the table.

The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. The rush for the doors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men in the room fainted, outright, through sheer horror. But after the first wild, shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr Goodfellow. If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the more than mortal agony which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicund with triumph and wine. For several minutes, he sat rigidly as a statue of marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy of their gaze, to be turned inwards, and absorbed in the contemplation of his own miserable, murderous soul. At length, their expression appeared to flash suddenly out into the external world; when, with a quick leap, he sprang from his chair, and falling heavily with his head and shoulders upon the table, and in contact with the corpse, poured out, rapidly and vehemently, a detailed confession of the hideous crime for which Mr Pennifeather was then imprisoned and doomed to die.

What he recounted, was, in substance, this: — He followed his victim to the vicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol; despatched the rider with its butt-end; possessed himself of the pocket book; and, supposing the horse dead, dragged it, with great labor, to the brambles by the pond. Upon his own beast he slung the corpse of Mr Shuttleworthy, and thus bore it to a secure place of concealment, a long distance off, through the woods.

The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and the bullet, had been placed by himself where found, with the view of avenging himself upon Mr Pennifeather. He had also contrived the discovery of the stained handkerchief and shirt.

Towards the end of the blood-chilling recital, the words of the guilty wretch faltered, and grew hollow. When the record was finally exhausted, he arose, staggered backwards from the table, and fell, dead.

———————————

The means by which this happily-timed confession was extorted, although efficient, were simple indeed. Mr Goodfellow’s excess of frankness had disgusted me, and excited my suspicion, from the first. I was present when Mr Pennifeather had struck him; and the fiendish expression which then arose upon his countenance, although momentary, assured me that his threat of vengeance would, if possible, be rigidly fulfilled. I was thus prepared to view the manœuvering of “Old Charley” in a very different light from that in which it was regarded by the good citizens of Rattleborough. I saw, at once, that all the criminating discoveries arose, either directly or indirectly, from himself. But the fact which clearly opened my eyes to the true state of the case, was the affair of the bullet, found by Mr G. in the carcass of the horse. I had not forgotten, although the Rattleburghers had, that there was a hole where the ball had entered the horse, and another where it went out. If it were found in the animal, then, after having made its exit, I saw clearly that it must have been deposited by the person who found it. The bloody shirt and handkerchief confirmed the idea suggested by the bullet; for the blood, upon examination, proved to be capital claret, and no more. When I came to think of these things, and also of the late increase of liberality and expenditure on the part of Mr Goodfellow, I entertained a suspicion which was none the less strong ,because I kept it altogether to myself.

In the meantime, I instituted a rigorous private search for the corpse of Mr Shuttleworthy, and, for good reasons, searched in quarters as divergent as possible from those to which Mr Goodfellow conducted his party. The result was that, after some days, I came across an old dry well, the mouth of which was nearly hidden by brambles; — and here, at the bottom, I discovered what I sought.

Now it so happened that I had overheard the colloquy between the two cronies, when Mr Goodfellow had contrived to cajole his host into the promise of a box of Chateau Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. I procured a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down the throat of the corpse, and deposited the latter in an old wine-box; taking care so to double the body up, as to double the whalebone with it. In this manner, I had to press forcibly upon the lid to keep it down, while I secured it with nails; and I anticipated, of course, that as soon as these latter were removed, the top would fly off, and the body fly up.

Having thus arranged the box, I marked, numbered, and addressed it, as already told; and then, writing a letter in the name of the wine merchants with whom Mr Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instructions to my servant to wheel the box to Mr Goodfellow’s door, in a barrow, at a given signal from myself. For the words which I intended the corpse to speak, I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their effect, I counted upon the conscience of the murderous wretch.

I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr Pennifeather was released upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle, profited by the lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily, ever afterwards, a new life.

---

Edgar Allan Poe

Originally published in 1844

A Tale of Jerusalem

Intensos rigidam in frontem ascendere canos

Passus erat.

— LUCAN DE CATONE.

A bristly bore.

— TRANSLATION.

“Let us hurry to the walls,” said Abel-Shittim to Buzi-Ben-Levi and Simeon the Pharisee, on the tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the year of the world Three Thousand Nine Hundred and Forty-one — “let us hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of Benjamin, which is in the city of David, and overlooking the camp of the uncircumcised, for it is the last hour of the fourth watch, being sunrise, and the idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey, should be waiting for us with the lambs for the sacrifices.”

Simeon, Abel-Shittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi were the Gizbarim, or sub-collectors of the offering in the holy city of Jerusalem — more correctly Jeruschalaim, which signifies, being interpreted, “the possession of the inheritance of peace.”

“Verily,” replied the Pharisee, “let us hasten — for this generosity in the heathen is unwonted, and fickle-mindedness has ever been an attribute of the worshippers of Baal.”

“That they are fickle-minded, and treacherous is as true as the Pentateuch,” said Buzi-Ben-Levi; “but that is only towards the people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved wanting to their own interest? Methinks it is no great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head.”

“Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi,” said Abel-Shittim, “that the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has no assurance that we apply not the lambs thus purchased for the altar to the sustenance of the body rather than of the spirit.”

“By the five corners of my beard!” shouted the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called “the Dashers,” (that little knot of saints whose manner of dashing, and lacerating the feet upon the pavement was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees — a stumbling block to less gifted perambulators,) “By the five corners of that beard which, as a priest, I am forbidden to shave! Have we lived to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous Roman upstart shall accuse us of appropriating to the appetites of the flesh the most holy and consecrated elements? Have we ——”

“Let us not question the motives of the Philistine,” interrupted Abel-Shittim, “for to-day we profit for the first time by his avarice or his generosity: but rather let us hurry to the ramparts, lest offerings should be wanting for that altar, whose fire the rain cannot put out, and whose pillar of smoke the winds cannot turn aside.”

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That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim now hastened, and which bore the name of its architect, king David, was esteemed the most strongly fortified district of Jerusalem, being situated on the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here a broad, deep circumvallatory trench, hewn from the solid rock, was defended by a wall of great strength erected upon its inner edge. This wall was beautified at regular interspaces, by square towers of white marble — the lowest sixty, and the highest one hundred and twenty cubits in height. But in the vicinity of the gate of Benjamin, the wall arose by no means immediately from the margin of the fosse; on the contrary, between the level of the ditch and the basement of the rampart arose a perpendicular cliff of two hundred and fifty cubits, forming part of the precipitous Mount Moriah. So that when Simeon and his associates arrived on the summit of the tower called Adoni-Bezek, the highest of all the turrets round about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference with the besieging army, they looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling by many feet that of the pyramid of Cheops, and by several, that of the Temple of Belus.

“Verily,” sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzily over the precipice, “the uncircumcised are as the sands by the sea-shore, as the locusts in the wilderness: and the valley of the king hath become the valley of Adommin.”

“And yet,” added Ben-Levi, “thou can’st not point me out a Philistine — no, not from the forest to the battlements — from Aleph to Tau, who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod.”

“Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!” shouted a Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which seemed to issue from the regions of Pluto; “lower away the basket with that accursed coin which hath broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension, has thought proper to listen to your idolatrous importunities? The god Phœbus, who is a true god, and no barbarian, has been charioted for an hour — and were you not to have been on the walls by sunrise? Ædepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the world, have nothing better to do than to stand waiting by the walls of every kennel to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away, I say! and see that your trumpery be just in weight, and bright in colour.”

“El Elohim!” ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of the centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted away against the temple — “El Elohim! Who is the god Phœbus? Whom doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi, who art read in the laws of the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among those who dabble with the Teraphim, is it Nergal of whom the idolater speaketh? — or Ashimah? — or Nibhaz? — or Tartak? — or Adramalech? — or Anamalech? — or Succoth-Benoth? — or Dagon? — or Belial? — or Baal-Perith? — or Baal-Peor? — or Baal-Zebub?”

“Verily it is neither — but beware how thou lettest the rope slip too rapidly through thy fingers; for should the wicker-work chance to hang on the projection of yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring of the holy things of the sanctuary.”

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By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery, the heavily-laden basket was now lowered carefully down among the multitude; and from the giddy pinnacle the Romans were seen crowding confusedly around it. But owing to the vast height and the prevalence of a fog, (which is unusual at Jerusalem,) no distinct view of their operations could be obtained.

A half hour had already elapsed.

“We shall be too late,” sighed the pharisee, as at the expiration of this period he looked over into the abyss — “We shall be too late — we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim.”

“No more,” responded Abel-Shittim, “shall we feast upon the fat of the land — no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense — our loins girded up with fine linen from the temple.”

“Raca!” swore Ben-Levi, — “Raca! — do they mean to defraud us of the purchase money! — or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the tabernacle?”

“They have given the signal at last,” roared the pharisee. “Pull away, Abel-Shittim! — and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi, pull away! for verily, the Philistines have still hold of the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!”

And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burthen swung heavily upwards through the still increasing mist.

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“Booshoh he!” said Ben-Levi, as at the conclusion of an hour some object became indistinctly visible at the extremity of the rope — “Vah! Climah he! for shame? — it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley of Jehoshaphat.”

“It is a firstling of the flock,” said Abel-Shittim; “I know him by the bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are more beautiful than the jewels of the pectoral, and his flesh is like the honey of hebron.”

“It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan,” said the Pharisee; “the heathen have dealt wonderfully with us. Let us raise up our voices in a psalm — let us give thanks on the shawm and on the psaltery — on the harp and the huggab — on the cythern, and on the sackbut.”

It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the Gizbarim, that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a hog of no common size.

“Now El Emanu!” slowly, and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, as releasing their hold, the emancipated porker fell headlong among the Philistines. “El Emanu! God be with us! it is the unutterable flesh!”

“Let me no longer” — said the Pharisee, “let me no longer be called Simeon, which signifieth ‘he who hastens,’ but Boanerges, ‘the son of thunder.’ ”

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Edgar Allan Poe

Originally Published in 1832

The story was published as a parody of “Zillah – Tale of the Holy City” by Horace Smith