Transcript The Black Cat

Summarized by Mrs. Tolin
From his prison cell, the unnamed narrator is
writing the story of how everything in his life fell
apart. Since he will be put to death the next day,
he wants to set the record straight, and tells us
the story of his life…
“Tomorrow I die, and today I wish to
unburden my soul. My immediate
purpose is to place before the world,
plainly, without added comments, or
biased opinion, the details of what took
place…”
He begins his story—the flashback—by
describing himself as a young boy…
From the day I was born, family and
friends described me as mild and kind. I
loved animals and had always had a lot of
them. The older I got, the more these
qualities grew. Taking care of my pets and
hanging out with them was one of my
favorite things to do.
I married early, and was happy to find
that my wife had a disposition not much
different than my own. She loved animals
too, and so we filled the house with a
variety of them: birds, gold-fish, dogs,
rabbits, a small monkey…
…and, a cat.
A remarkably large and beautiful
animal, entirely black, and extremely
smart.
My wife even made a joke in the
beginning that all black cats are
witches in disguise--- “ha!” right?
Not that she was ever serious about
this; I only mention it to acknowledge
that I suppose it’s been possible,
right?
Pluto—this was the cat’s name—was my
favorite pet and playmate. I fed him, and
he followed me around the house
wherever I went.
We became so close that I even had a
hard time leaving the house without him
trying to follow me around the streets!
Our relationship continued like this for
several years but… over the years (I
blush to confess this to you), I changed.
You see, I should tell you that I have a bit
of a—how do you call it?—a “drinking
problem”. But it’s not really a problem,
you see?
Anyways, I grew, day-by-day, more
moody, more irritable, more insensitive
towards the feelings of others. I can’t
explain it.
I’d catch myself using horribly rude or
vulgar language to my own wife, as if
someone else was saying the words for
me!
I not only inflicted personal harm against
her, but at times, also made my pets feel
the extent of my wrath. I not only
neglected them, but ill-used them.
I managed to restrain myself from
mistreating Pluto, somehow, but the
others—the rabbits, the monkey, or even
the dog—were common victims of my
abuse whenever they came by my way.
But my disease grew upon me---for
what disease is like Alcohol!—and at
length, even Pluto, who was now
becoming old, and consequently more
shy—even Pluto began to experience
the effects of my ill temper.
One night as I returned home, much
intoxicated from one of my nights out on
the town, I realized that the cat was
avoiding me. That bothered me. So I
grabbed him, but in his fright at my
violence, he bit me!
The fury of a demon instantly possessed
me, and I knew myself no longer.
My original soul seemed, at once, to
leave my body. What it left behind was
an evil malevolence, (gin-nurtured of
course), which thrilled every fiber of my
frame.
I took from my waistcoat-pocket a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor beast
by the throat and deliberately cut one of
its eyes from the socket!
(Trust me, I blush and shutter at the
thought of it now, as I tell you this.)
Reason returned when morning came. By
then I had slept off most of the night’s
alcohol, and the realization of what had
happened set in. What I felt was... half of
horror, half of remorse; but, at best, it was
a weak feeling.
My soul was untouched.
So, I drowned any memory of the events
in my wine.
Meanwhile, Pluto slowly recovered. The
socket of his lost eye became more
apparent and revealed a frightful
appearance; however, he no longer
appeared to be in pain.
He carried on around
the house as usual,
but, as expected, he
fled in extreme terror
whenever he saw me.
There was still a part of me that
remembered my love for Pluto,
and so, at first, it saddened me to
realize the extent to which he
hated me.
But this feeling soon turned into
irritation. And then came (with the
final overthrow of anything kind or
humane left within me), the spirit
of Corruption and wickedness.
But don’t place judgment on me yet, you
hypocrites. It’s human nature, after all.
Who has not, a hundred times, found
himself committing a vile or silly action,
for no other reason than because he
knew he shouldn’t?
Who here has never broken a rule simply
because it’s fun to do so?
(Uh huh,
that’s what
I thought.)
This spirit of Corruption, I say, came to
my final overthrow. It was this
unfathomable longing of the soul to do
wrong—for the wrong’s sake only!—that
urged me continue and to finally
complete the injury which I had inflicted
upon the unoffending brute (Pluto).
One morning, in cold blood, I slipped a
noose about the cat’s 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
to injure it;--hung it because I knew that
in so doing I was committing a sin—a
deadly sin that would so jeopardize
my immortal soul’s acceptance
by the Most Merciful and Most
Terrible God.
I killed
Pluto.
Later that night, after the cruel deed was
done, I was awoke from my sleep by the
cry of a fire. The curtains of my bed were
in flames. The whole house was blazing.
It was with great difficulty that my wife, a
servant, and myself, made our escape.
The destruction was complete. My entire
worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I
resigned myself thenceforward to despair.
(Now, I know what you’re thinking. You
think the fire was some sort of
‘punishment’ for what I did to Pluto. But I
don’t believe that, and that’s not why I’m
mentioning the fire. I only mentioned the
fire to you because, as I said from the
begin, I am detailing a chain of events
and facts---I didn’t want to leave anything
out and risk seeming impartial.)
The day after the fire, I visited the ruins.
The walls, with one exception, had fallen
in. This exception was found on a
compartment wall, not very thick, which
stood about the middle of the house, and
against which had rested the head of my
bed. The plastering had here (in great
measure) resisted being burned by the
fire. I presumed that this was because
the plaster was recently spread, and was
probably still wet.
A crowd had formed around this wall.
They seemed to be examining a
particular portion of it with a very
minute and eager attention. The words
“Strange!” and “Peculiar!” and other
similar expressions, excited my
curiosity. I approached it to see for
myself.
I approached it to find an image
(appearing as though it had been
engraved into the headboard) that
looked like the figure of a gigantic cat!
The impression was given with an
accuracy that was truly marvelous! In
fact, it had a rope around the animal’s
neck!
When I first saw the image---for I could hardly
regard it as any less than an apparition of my
mind—my wonder and my terror became
extreme. But finally, reflection and reason
came to my aid.
The cat, I remembered, had been hanged in
a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the
alarm of fire, this garden had been
immediately filled by a crowd of people, just
watching. What must’ve happened is that an
onlooker cut the cat from the tree, and
he/she likely threw the cat into the home in
an attempt to wake me from my sleep (to
save me from the fire).
When thrown into the room, the cat probably
hit the (still-drying) wall of plaster, causing its
shape to form on the wall. But the body of
the cat was never found because it was
probably disintegrated by the fire.
Regardless of my ability to come up with a
reasonable explanation for this bizarre
occurrence (the image), I still couldn’t get
it out of my mind.
For months, I was haunted by it all—
during which time, however, I continued
to visit my favorite town bar.
One night as I sat half stupified in a wellknown bar, my attention was suddenly
drawn to some black object, situated on
the head of one of the large casks of Gin,
or of Rum (which was the majority of the
furniture in this establishment).
I had been looking steadily at the top of
this hogshead for some minutes, and
what now caused me surprise was the
fact that I had not sooner realized what
the object was!
I approached it, and touched it with my
hand. It was a black cat—a very large
one—fully as large as Pluto had been,
and closely resembling him in every
aspect but one:
Pluto had not a
single white hair
upon any portion
of its body; but
this cat had a
large, although
indefinite splotch
of white,
covering nearly
the whole region
of the breast.
Upon my touching him, he immediately
arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my
hand, and appeared delighted with my
notice. This, then, was the very creature
I apparently was in search of.
I at once asked the owner of the bar if I
could purchase the cat, but he told me
that he had never seen the cat before,
so the exchange of money was
unnecessary.
I continued to caress it, and, when
prepared to go home, the animal
followed me.
I permitted it to do so; occasionally
stooping down to pat it as I proceeded.
When it reached the house it
domesticated itself at once, and became
immediately a great favorite with my wife.
But for my own part, I soon found myself
disliking it. This was just the reverse of
what I had anticipated. It’s just—I know
not how or why it was—but this darn cat’s
evident fondness of me began to disgust
and annoy me! By slow degree, these
feelings rose into the bitterness of hatred.
I attempted to avoid the creature; a
certain sense of shame, and the
remembrance of my former deed of
cruelty to Pluto prevented me from
physically abusing it.
I did not, for several weeks, hit or
otherwise violently ill-use this cat;
however, gradually, very gradually, I
came to look up on it with an unutterable
loathing (hate!). I attempted to flee
silently from its dreaded presence.
What added, no doubt, to my hatred of
the beast, was the discovery, on the
morning after I had brought it home that,
like Pluto, this cat had also been deprived
of one of its eyes!
This circumstance, however, only
endeared it to my wife, who , as I have
said before, possessed in high degree,
that humanity of feeling (which I had once
possessed, but do no more); the source
of many of my simplest and purest
pleasures had once derived.
As my feelings against this cat grew stronger,
it appeared that its feelings towards me did
the same—but not to my liking. It followed my
footsteps with a persistence that would be
difficult to explain.
Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my
chair. When I got up to wakl, it would get
between my feet & nearly trip me. As I
attempted to get dressed for the day, it would
dig its claws into my chest.
At such times, although I longed to destroy it
with a blow, I was yet withheld from doing so
(partly by the memory of my former crime)
but chiefly---let me admit it to you now—
because I had a great fear of the beast!
(Why was I so afraid of this cat, you ask?
Well, I am almost ashamed to admit--yes, even in this felon’s cel;, I am almost
ashamed to say—that the terror and
horror with which the animal inspired me
had been heighted by one of the merest
illusions hardly even possible to
conceive…)
… My wife had called attention, more
than once, to the character of the white
mark of fur on its chest (the only visible
difference between this cat and Pluto).
In the beginning, this mark appeared
indefinite; but, by slow degrees, it
became more and more obvious… It
assumed a rigorous distinctness of an
outline…
It was now the representation of an object
that I shudder to even name—and for
this, above all, I hate, and dreaded, and
would have rid myself of the monster had
I dared…
(So, what was this image, you ask?)
It was now, I say, the image of a
hideous—of a ghastly thing—of the
GALLOWS! Oh, mournful and terrible
engine of Horror and Crime—of Agony
and Death!
Despite my horror, this beast would never
leave me. Neither by day nor by night, did
I know the blessing of rest any more!
During the day, it left me no moment
alone. At night, I started waking up (every
hour) from dreams of unutterable fears,
only to find the hot breath of the thing
upon my face, as it laid upon my heart as
I slept!
Beneath the pressure of torments such
as these, what little “goodness” remained
in me could survive no longer. All the
efforts I made to hold back the spirit of
Corruption came to a hault. The
moodiness of my usual temper increased
to hatred of all things and of all mankind,
and unfortunately for my uncomplaining
wife (alas! She was the most patient!),
she became the biggest sufferer.
One day she accompanied me, upon
some household errand, into the cellar of
the old building which our poverty
compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed
me down the steep steps and nearly
caused me to trip and fall again. It
exasperated me into madness!
Uplifting an axe, and forgetting in my
wrath the childish dread which had
controlled my hand, aimed a blow at
the animal which, of course, would
have proven instantly fatal had I hit it
(like I had wished). But this blow was
arrested by the hand of my wife.
Infuriated even further by her
interruption, into a rage more than
demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from
her grasp and buried the axe in her
brain!
She fell dead upon the spot, without a
groan.
With the hideous murder accomplished, I
then focused myself (disappointedly) on
the task of how to conceal the body.
I knew that I couldn’t remove the body
from the house, either by day or night,
without the risk of someone seeing
me. Many other ideas entered my
mind too. At one thought I considered
cutting up the corpse into minute
fragments and destroying them by
fire. At another, I resolved to dig a
grave for it in the floor of the celler.
Again, I deliberated about casting in
the well of the yard—about packing it
in a box, as if merchandise, with the
usual arrangements, and so getting a
mailman to take it from the house.
Finally, I hit upon what I considered to
be a better expedient than either of
these.
I determined to wall it up in the cellar—as
the monks of the middle ages are
recorded to have walled up their victims.
For a purpose such as this the cellar was
well adapted. Its walls were loosely
constructed, and had lately been
plastered throughout with a rough plaster,
which the dampness of the atmosphere
prevented from hardening.
I made no doubt that I could easily
remove the bricks at a certain point of the
wall where a false chimney had been
built, insert the corpse, and wall the hole
up as was before, so that no eye could
detect anything suspicious.
…I was right. It was easy.
I re-laid the whole structure as it originally
stood, and prepared plaster that couldn’t
be differentiated from the original plaster.
When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all
was right. The wall did not present the
slightest appearance of having been
disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was
picked up with the minutest care. I looked
around triumphantly, and said to myself,
“Here at least, then, my labor has not
been in vain.”
My next step was to look for the beast which
has been the cause of so much
wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly
resolved to put it to death.
If I could only have found it, I would’ve been
able to fulfill my deed, but it appeared that
the crafty animal had decided to hide from
me—probably as a result of witnessing my
previous violence and anger.
It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the
extent of how wonderful the deep, blissful
sense of relief I felt due to the absence of
that dreadful creature laying on my chest at
night.
It didn’t make its appearance during the
night—and thus for one night at least, since
its introduction into the house, I soundly and
tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the
burden of murder
upon my soul!
The second and third day passed, and still
my tormenter came not. Once again I
breathed as a free man. The monster, in
terror, had fled the premises forever! I
should behold it no more! My happiness
was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed
disturbed me but little.
Some few inquiries had been made, but
these had been readily answered. Even a
search had been instituted to find my
wife—but of course, nothing was to be
discovered. I looked upon my future
felicity as secured.
Upon the fourth day of the assassination,
the party of the police came, very
unexpectedly, into the house, and
proceeded to make rigorous investigation
of the premises.
Confident, however, in my attempts to
conceal the body, I felt no embarrassment
or concern. The officers requested that I
accompany them in their search, so I did.
They left no nook or corner unexplored. At
length, for the third or fourth time, they
descended into the cellar. I quivered not a
muscle. I walked the cellar from end to
end. I folded my arms upon my bosom,
and roamed easily to and fro. The police
were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to
leave.
The glee at my heart was too strong to be
restrained. I couldn’t resist saying just a
word or two (by way of triumph), to taunt
them for being unable to confirm their
suspicion of my guiltiness. (mwah ha ha)
“Gentlemen,” I said
at last, as the police
began to climb
upstairs. “I delight to
have allayed your
suspicions. I wish
you all health, and a
little more courtesy
next time. By the
bye, gentlemen,
this—this is a very
well constructed
house!” (mwah ha
ha)
[In the rabid desire to say something
easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at
all.]
... “I may say an excellently wellconstructed house. These walls—are
you going, gentlemen?—these walls are
solidly put together…”
And here,
here is
where I went
wrong.
Through the frenzy of my bravado, I
tapped heavily, with a cane which I had
been holding my hand, on the very
portion of the brick-work behind which
had stood the corpse of my wife…
But may God shield and deliver me from
the fangs of the Arch-Fiend! No sooner
had the reverberation of my blows sunk
into the silence, was I answered in a
voice from within the tomb! By a cry, at
first muffled and broken, like the
sobbing of a child, and then quickly
swelling into one long, loud, and
continuous scream, utterly anomalous
and inhuman--a howl--a wailing shriek,
half of horror and half of triumph, such
as might have arisen only out of hell,
conjointly from the throats of the
dammed in their agony and of the
demons that exult in the damnation!
Sound Sample
I can’t even explain to you what I
thought or felt at that moment.
Swooning, I staggered to the opposite
wall. For one instance the Police party
upon the stairs remained motionless,
through extremity of terror and of awe.
In the next moment, a dozen stout arms
were toiling at the wall. It fell easily.
The corpse, already greatly decayed
and clotted with gore, stood erect before
the eyes of the spectators.
Upon the head of my wife’s corpse, with
red extended mouth and solitary eye of
fire…
…sat the hideous beast whose craft had
seduced me into murder, and whose
informing howl had consigned me to the
gallows, myself.
I had walled the monster up within the tomb!
And that’s the story of yesterday, to
explain why I’m here today, awaiting
my inevitable fate to come…
tomorrow.
The End.