The black cat text. The Black Cat Full Text and Analysis 2022-12-23
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The short story "The Black Cat" by Edgar Allan Poe is a tale of obsession, madness, and ultimately, murder. The narrator, who is never named, becomes increasingly obsessed with a black cat that he owns, to the point where he begins to resent and even hate the animal. As his obsession grows, the narrator's mental state deteriorates and he becomes more erratic and violent.
The narrator initially seems to have a fondness for the black cat, which he describes as "a remarkably large and beautiful animal." However, as the story progresses, it becomes clear that the narrator's love for the cat is not genuine, but rather a manifestation of his own ego and desire to be admired. He brags about the cat's intelligence and even compares it to a "demon" that can read his thoughts.
As the narrator's mental state deteriorates, he becomes increasingly abusive towards the cat, eventually cutting out one of its eyes in a fit of rage. This act of violence seems to mark a turning point for the narrator, as it is the beginning of a downward spiral that ultimately leads to murder.
The narrator's obsession with the black cat ultimately consumes him, and he becomes convinced that the animal is plotting against him. This paranoia leads him to commit a gruesome act of violence, as he murders his wife and attempts to conceal the body by walling it up in the cellar.
In the end, the narrator's madness is revealed when the black cat appears at the scene of the crime, leading to his arrest and eventual confession. The story serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of obsession and the destructive power of the human psyche.
Overall, "The Black Cat" is a disturbing and thought-provoking tale that explores the dark side of human nature and the consequences of letting our passions consume us. It serves as a reminder of the importance of maintaining control over our emotions and not letting them dictate our actions.
The Black Cat by Edgar Allan Poe
For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! I should behold it no more! Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart—one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a half- sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse.
EDGAR ALLAN POE THE BLACK CAT short Horror Tale story TEXT
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. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast.
From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. I am almost ashamed to own — yes, even in this felon's eel I, I am almost ashamed to own —that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimaa'as it would be possible to conceive. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with every minute and eager attention.
On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fi re. 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. And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. Horsehair plaster is a traditional mortar used in construction.
This exception was found in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had rested the head of my bed. 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. And a brute beast -- whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed -- a brute beast to work out for me -- for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God -- so much of insufferable wo! I had walled the monster up within the tomb! The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. When I first beheld this apparition — for I could scarcely regard it as less — my wonder and my terror were extreme. I knew that I could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. The other part is fiendish and uninhibited. Rather than break down with remorse, the man hastily hides his wife's body by walling it up with bricks behind a false facade in the cellar.
For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. 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. I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it. 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! I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. 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.
But I am detailing a chain of facts—and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. There was a rope about the ani mal 's neck. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. 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. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I not dream.
When reason returned with the morning -- when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch -- I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; -- hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; -- hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence; -- hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin -- a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it -- if such a thing were possible -- even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God. This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but -- I know not how or why it was -- its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. These walls — are you going, gentlemen? Not that she was ever serious upon this point—and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.
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