The black cat full story. "The Black Cat" by Edgar Allan Poe 2022-12-14
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"The Black Cat" is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, first published in 1843. It is a tale of horror and mystery, told from the perspective of the narrator, who is an unreliable and potentially mad protagonist.
The narrator begins by describing his love for animals, particularly his pets, and how he has always been a kind and gentle owner. However, as he becomes more and more intoxicated with alcohol, his behavior towards his animals becomes increasingly cruel and violent. He admits to harming his pets, including hanging one of his cats by the neck until it was almost dead.
Despite this disturbing behavior, the narrator still claims to love his pets and is particularly fond of a large and beautiful black cat named Pluto. However, as the narrator's alcoholism and violence worsen, he begins to resent Pluto and eventually becomes convinced that the cat is possessed by the devil. In a fit of rage, he takes a knife and gouges out one of the cat's eyes.
The narrator's actions have disastrous consequences, as the cat becomes even more feared and hated by the narrator and his wife. Eventually, the cat disappears and the narrator begins to suspect that his wife has killed it. However, as he is searching for the body, he discovers that the cat is still alive and hiding in the cellar. In a moment of madness, the narrator takes an axe and kills the cat, burying it in the wall of the cellar.
As the narrator is confessing these events to the police, he becomes increasingly agitated and paranoid. He begins to believe that the walls of his house are talking to him and that the cat's ghost is haunting him. Eventually, the wall behind which the cat is buried collapses, revealing the cat's corpse and the narrator's guilt.
"The Black Cat" is a disturbing tale that explores the theme of guilt and the dangers of alcohol abuse. It also serves as a cautionary tale about the destructive power of anger and resentment. The narrator's descent into madness and violence is a warning about the consequences of giving in to our darkest impulses.
The Black Cat Full Text
My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair. Also to tint or stain with a color. On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man. At a young age, Edgar grew up to rough circumstances. By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood.
The curtains of my bed were in flames. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd—by some one of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open window, into my chamber. Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep impression upon my fancy. By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood. Here the narrator falters in his reliability, another such instance in a pattern that develops over the course of the story.
EDGAR ALLAN POE THE BLACK CAT short Horror Tale story TEXT
They left no nook or corner unexplored. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the yard -- about packing it in a box, as if merchandize, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the house. On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. The police pulled it down and found the corpse, as well as the black cat inside, staring straight at the narrator with his one eye.
I made no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye could detect any thing suspicious. No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb! Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan. In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. I watched them quietly, and, as I expected, they noticed nothing. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. It seemed almost that the cat had in some mysterious way caused the house to burn so that it could make me pay for my evil act, so that it could take revenge upon me.
The walls were not very strongly built, and I found I could easily take down those stones. . The Biographical Approach investigates the life of an author using primary texts, such as letters, diaries, and other documents, that might reveal the experience, thought, and feelings that led to the creation of a literary work. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition.
The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. I determined to wall it up in the cellar—as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up their victims. When I first beheld this apparition—for I could scarcely regard it as less—my wonder and my terror were extreme. Edgar and his wife Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe, had no children.
Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. I looked upon my future felicity as secured. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. It is the part of wall above the head of the bed, and now has a crowd of people around it. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger, and forebore to present itself in my present mood. Many projects entered my mind.
I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. I not only neglected, but ill-used them. I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity. All trace of remorse is gone.
My happiness was supreme! The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire -- a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. Is the black cat merely a cat, or something embued with a greater power to bring about justice or exact revenge? It is the quiet before the storm. I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new brick-work.
'The Black Cat'—Plot, Symbols, Themes, and Key Quotes
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself -- to offer violence to its own nature -- to do wrong for the wrong's sake only -- that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures. Its walls were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others.
