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| Early photograph of Parisian young woman, 1840s |
A SEQUEL TO “THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE.”
By Edgar Allen Poe
Editor’s note: Readers of this Poe
short story might compare it with the structure and style of the Sherlock
Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle albeit Poe wrote this half a century
before Sherlock’s remarkable debut. Poe’s lengthy introduction comes off as an
obvious precursor to Doyle’s character John Watson.
For the convenience of modern readers, this blog has
divided the work into seven daily installments.
Attention to Drowning.
“Having prescribed thus a
limit to suit its own preconceived notions; having assumed that, if this were
the body of Marie, it could have been in the water but a very brief time; the
journal goes on to say: ‘All experience has shown that drowned bodies, or
bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence, require from
six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them to the
top of the water. Even when a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises
before at least five or six days’ immersion, it sinks again if let alone.’
“These assertions have been
tacitly received by every paper in Paris, with the exception of Le Moniteur. This
latter print endeavors to combat that portion of the paragraph which has
reference to ‘drowned bodies’ only, by citing some five or six instances in
which the bodies of individuals known to be drowned were found floating after
the lapse of less time than is insisted upon by L’Etoile.
But there is something
excessively unphilosophical in the attempt on the part of Le Moniteur, to rebut
the general assertion of L’Etoile, by a citation of particular instances
militating against that assertion. Had it been possible to adduce 50 instead of
five examples of bodies found floating at the end of two or three days, these 50
examples could still have been properly regarded only as exceptions to
L’Etoile’s rule, until such time as the rule itself should be confuted.
Admitting the rule, (and this Le Moniteur does not deny, insisting merely upon
its exceptions,) the argument of L’Etoile is suffered to remain in full force;
for this argument does not pretend to involve more than a question of the
probability of the body having risen to the surface in less than three days;
and this probability will be in favor of L’Etoile’s position until the
instances so childishly adduced shall be sufficient in number to establish an
antagonistical rule.
“You will see at once that
all argument upon this head should be urged, if at all, against the rule
itself; and for this end we must examine the rationale of the rule. Now the
human body, in general, is neither much lighter nor much heavier than the water
of the Seine; that is to say, the specific gravity of the human body, in its
natural condition, is about equal to the bulk of fresh water which it
displaces.
The bodies of fat and
fleshy persons, with small bones, and of women generally, are lighter than
those of the lean and large-boned, and of men; and the specific gravity of the
water of a river is somewhat influenced by the presence of the tide from sea.
But, leaving this tide out of question, it may be said that very few human
bodies will sink at all, even in fresh water, of their own accord. Almost any
one, falling into a river, will be enabled to float, if he suffer the specific
gravity of the water fairly to be adduced in comparison with his own—that is to
say, if he suffer his whole person to be immersed, with as little exception as
possible.
The proper position for one
who cannot swim, is the upright position of the walker on land, with the head
thrown fully back, and immersed; the mouth and nostrils alone remaining above
the surface. Thus circumstanced, we shall find that we float without difficulty
and without exertion.
It is evident, however,
that the gravities of the body, and of the bulk of water displaced, are very
nicely balanced, and that a trifle will cause either to preponderate. An arm,
for instance, uplifted from the water, and thus deprived of its support, is an
additional weight sufficient to immerse the whole head, while the accidental
aid of the smallest piece of timber will enable us to elevate the head so as to
look about. Now, in the struggles of one unused to swimming, the arms are
invariably thrown upwards, while an attempt is made to keep the head in its
usual perpendicular position.
The result is the immersion
of the mouth and nostrils, and the inception, during efforts to breathe while
beneath the surface, of water into the lungs. Much is also received into the
stomach, and the whole body becomes heavier by the difference between the
weight of the air originally distending these cavities, and that of the fluid
which now fills them. This difference is sufficient to cause the body to sink,
as a general rule; but is insufficient in the cases of individuals with small
bones and an abnormal quantity of flaccid or fatty matter. Such individuals
float even after drowning.
“The corpse, being supposed
at the bottom of the river, will there remain until, by some means, its
specific gravity again becomes less than that of the bulk of water which it
displaces. This effect is brought about by decomposition, or otherwise. The
result of decomposition is the generation of gas, distending the cellular
tissues and all the cavities, and giving the puffed appearance which is so
horrible. When this distension has so far progressed that the bulk of the
corpse is materially increased without a corresponding increase of mass or
weight, its specific gravity becomes less than that of the water displaced, and
it forthwith makes its appearance at the surface.
But decomposition is
modified by innumerable circumstances—is hastened or retarded by innumerable
agencies; for example, by the heat or cold of the season, by the mineral
impregnation or purity of the water, by its depth or shallowness, by its
currency or stagnation, by the temperament of the body, by its infection or
freedom from disease before death. Thus it is evident that we can assign no
period, with any thing like accuracy, at which the corpse shall rise through
decomposition.
Under certain conditions
this result would be brought about within an hour; under others, it might not
take place at all. There are chemical infusions by which the animal frame can
be preserved forever from corruption; the Bi-chloride of Mercury is one. But,
apart from decomposition, there may be, and very usually is, a generation of
gas within the stomach, from the acetous fermentation of vegetable matter (or
within other cavities from other causes) sufficient to induce a distension
which will bring the body to the surface.
The effect produced by the
firing of a cannon is that of simple vibration. This may either loosen the
corpse from the soft mud or ooze in which it is imbedded, thus permitting it to
rise when other agencies have already prepared it for so doing; or it may
overcome the tenacity of some putrescent portions of the cellular tissue;
allowing the cavities to distend under the influence of the gas.
“Having thus before us the
whole philosophy of this subject, we can easily test by it the assertions of
L’Etoile. ‘All experience shows,’ says this paper, ‘that drowned bodies, or
bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by violence, require from
six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them to the
top of the water. Even when a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises
before at least five or six days’ immersion, it sinks again if let alone.’
“The whole of this
paragraph must now appear a tissue of inconsequence and incoherence. All
experience does not show that ‘drowned bodies’ require from six to ten days for
sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them to the surface. Both
science and experience show that the period of their rising is, and necessarily
must be, indeterminate. If, moreover, a body has risen to the surface through
firing of cannon, it will not ‘sink again if let alone,’ until decomposition
has so far progressed as to permit the escape of the generated gas. But I wish
to call your attention to the distinction which is made between ‘drowned
bodies,’ and ‘bodies thrown into the water immediately after death by
violence.’
Although the writer admits
the distinction, he yet includes them all in the same category. I have shown how
it is that the body of a drowning man becomes specifically heavier than its
bulk of water, and that he would not sink at all, except for the struggles by
which he elevates his arms above the surface, and his gasps for breath while
beneath the surface—gasps which supply by water the place of the original air
in the lungs. But these struggles and these gasps would not occur in the body
‘thrown into the water immediately after death by violence.’ Thus, in the
latter instance, the body, as a general rule, would not sink at all—a fact of
which L’Etoile is evidently ignorant.
When decomposition had
proceeded to a very great extent—when the flesh had in a great measure left the
bones—then, indeed, but not till then, should we lose sight of the corpse.
“And now what are we to
make of the argument, that the body found could not be that of Marie Rogêt,
because, three days only having elapsed, this body was found floating? If
drowned, being a woman, she might never have sunk; or having sunk, might have
reappeared in 24 hours, or less. But no one supposes her to have been drowned;
and, dying before being thrown into the river, she might have been found
floating at any period afterwards whatever.
“‘But,’ says L’Etoile, ‘if
the body had been kept in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, some
trace would be found on shore of the murderers.’ Here it is at first difficult
to perceive the intention of the reasoner. He means to anticipate what he
imagines would be an objection to his theory—viz: that the body was kept on
shore two days, suffering rapid decomposition—more rapid than if immersed in
water. He supposes that, had this been the case, it might have appeared at the
surface on the Wednesday, and thinks that only under such circumstances it
could so have appeared. He is accordingly in haste to show that it was not kept
on shore; for, if so, ‘some trace would be found on shore of the murderers.’
I presume you smile at the
sequitur. You cannot be made to see how the mere duration of the corpse on the shore
could operate to multiply traces of the assassins. Nor can I.
“‘And furthermore it is
exceedingly improbable,’ continues our journal, ‘that any villains who had
committed such a murder as is here supposed, would have thrown the body in
without weight to sink it, when such a precaution could have so easily been
taken.’ Observe, here, the laughable confusion of thought! No one—not even
L’Etoile—disputes the murder committed on the body found. The marks of violence
are too obvious. It is our reasoner’s object merely to show that this body is
not Marie’s. He wishes to prove that Marie is not assassinated—not that the
corpse was not. Yet his observation proves only the latter point. Here is a
corpse without weight attached. Murderers, casting it in, would not have failed
to attach a weight.
Therefore it was not thrown
in by murderers. This is all which is proved, if any thing is. The question of
identity is not even approached, and L’Etoile has been at great pains merely to
gainsay now what it has admitted only a moment before. ‘We are perfectly
convinced,’ it says, ‘that the body found was that of a murdered female.’
“Nor is this the sole
instance, even in this division of his subject, where our reasoner unwittingly
reasons against himself. His evident object, I have already said, is to reduce,
as much as possible, the interval between Marie’s disappearance and the finding
of the corpse. Yet we find him urging the point that no person saw the girl
from the moment of her leaving her mother’s house. ‘We have no evidence,’ he
says, ‘that Marie Rogêt was in the land of the living after nine o’clock on
Sunday, June 22.’ As his argument is obviously an ex parte one, he should, at
least, have left this matter out of sight; for had any one been known to see
Marie, say on Monday, or on Tuesday, the interval in question would have been
much reduced, and, by his own ratiocination, the probability much diminished of
the corpse being that of the grisette. It is, nevertheless, amusing to observe
that L’Etoile insists upon its point in the full belief of its furthering its
general argument.
“Reperuse now that portion
of this argument which has reference to the identification of the corpse by
Beauvais. In regard to the hair upon the arm, L’Etoile has been obviously
disingenuous. M. Beauvais, not being an idiot, could never have urged, in
identification of the corpse, simply hair upon its arm. No arm is without hair.
The generality of the expression of L’Etoile is a mere perversion of the
witness’ phraseology. He must have spoken of some peculiarity in this hair. It
must have been a peculiarity of color, of quantity, of length, or of situation.
“‘Her foot,’ says the
journal, ‘was small—so are thousands of feet. Her garter is no proof
whatever—nor is her shoe—for shoes and garters are sold in packages. The same
may be said of the flowers in her hat. One thing upon which M. Beauvais
strongly insists is, that the clasp on the garter found, had been set back to
take it in. This amounts to nothing; for most women find it proper to take a
pair of garters home and fit them to the size of the limbs they are to
encircle, rather than to try them in the store where they purchase.’ Here it is
difficult to suppose the reasoner in earnest.
Had M. Beauvais, in his
search for the body of Marie, discovered a corpse corresponding in general size
and appearance to the missing girl, he would have been warranted (without
reference to the question of habiliment at all) in forming an opinion that his
search had been successful. If, in addition to the point of general size and
contour, he had found upon the arm a peculiar hairy appearance which he had
observed upon the living Marie, his opinion might have been justly
strengthened; and the increase of positiveness might well have been in the
ratio of the peculiarity, or unusualness, of the hairy mark. If, the feet of
Marie being small, those of the corpse were also small, the increase of
probability that the body was that of Marie would not be an increase in a ratio
merely arithmetical, but in one highly geometrical, or accumulative.
Add to all this shoes such
as she had been known to wear upon the day of her disappearance, and, although
these shoes may be ‘sold in packages,’ you so far augment the probability as to
verge upon the certain. What, of itself, would be no evidence of identity,
becomes through its corroborative position, proof most sure. Give us, then,
flowers in the hat corresponding to those worn by the missing girl, and we seek
for nothing farther. If only one flower, we seek for nothing farther—what then
if two or three, or more? Each successive one is multiple evidence—proof not
added to proof, but multiplied by hundreds or thousands.
Tomorrow: Part 5
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