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.
There are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not
occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence in the
supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvelous a character that, as
mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable to receive them. Such
sentiments—for the half-credences of which I speak have never the full force of
thought—such sentiments are seldom thoroughly stifled unless by reference to
the doctrine of chance, or, as it is technically termed, the Calculus of
Probabilities.
Now this Calculus is, in
its essence, purely mathematical; and thus we have the anomaly of the most
rigidly exact in science applied to the shadow and spirituality of the most
intangible in speculation.
The extraordinary details
which I am now called upon to make public, will be found to form, as regards
sequence of time, the primary branch of a series of scarcely intelligible
coincidences, whose secondary or concluding branch will be recognized by all
readers in the late murder of Mary Cecila Rogers, at New York. [Editor's note: after reading the ending of this tale come back and re-read this paragraph to make sense of it.]
When, in an article
entitled “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” I endeavored, about a year ago, to
depict some very remarkable features in the mental character of my friend, the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin, it did not
occur to me that I should ever resume the subject.
This depicting of character
constituted my design; and this design was thoroughly fulfilled in the wild
train of circumstances brought to instance Dupin’s idiosyncrasy. I might have
adduced other examples, but I should have proven no more.
E.A. Poe |
Late events, however, in their surprising development, have startled me into some farther details, which will carry with them the air of extorted confession. Hearing what I have lately heard, it would be indeed strange should I remain silent in regard to what I both heard and saw so long ago.
Upon the winding up of the
tragedy involved in the deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, the
Chevalier dismissed the affair at once from his attention, and relapsed into
his old habits of moody reverie. Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I readily
fell in with his humor; and, continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg
Saint Germain, we gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the
Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.
But these dreams were not
altogether uninterrupted. It may readily be supposed that the part played by my
friend, in the drama at the Rue Morgue, had not failed of its impression upon
the fancies of the Parisian police.
With its emissaries, the
name of Dupin had grown into a household word. The simple character of those
inductions by which he had disentangled the mystery never having been explained
even to the Prefect, or to any other individual than myself, of course it is
not surprising that the affair was regarded as little less than miraculous, or
that the Chevalier’s analytical abilities acquired for him the credit of
intuition. His frankness would have led him to disabuse every inquirer of such
prejudice; but his indolent humor forbade all farther agitation of a topic
whose interest to himself had long ceased. It thus happened that he found
himself the cynosure of the political eyes; and the cases were not few in which
attempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture.
One of the most remarkable instances was that of the
murder of a young girl named Marie Rogêt.
This event occurred about
two years after the atrocity in the Rue Morgue. Marie, whose Christian and
family name will at once arrest attention from their resemblance to those of
the unfortunate “cigargirl,” was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Rogêt.
The father had died during the child’s infancy, and from the period of his
death, until within 18 months before the assassination which forms the subject
of our narrative, the mother and daughter had dwelt together in the Rue Pavée
Saint Andrée; Madame there keeping a pension, assisted by Marie.
Affairs went on thus until
the latter had attained her 22 year, when her great beauty attracted the notice
of a perfumer, who occupied one of the shops in the basement of the Palais
Royal, and whose custom lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers infesting
that neighborhood. Monsieur Le Blanc was not unaware of the advantages to be
derived from the attendance of the fair Marie in his perfumery; and his liberal
proposals were accepted eagerly by the girl, although with somewhat more of
hesitation by Madame.
The anticipations of the
shopkeeper were realized, and his rooms soon became notorious through the
charms of the sprightly grisette. She had been in his employ about a year, when
her admirers were thrown info confusion by her sudden disappearance from the
shop. Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to account for her absence, and Madame Rogêt
was distracted with anxiety and terror. The public papers immediately took up
the theme, and the police were upon the point of making serious investigations,
when, one fine morning, after the lapse of a week, Marie, in good health, but
with a somewhat saddened air, made her re-appearance at her usual counter in the
perfumery.
All inquiry, except that of
a private character, was of course immediately hushed. Monsieur Le Blanc
professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with Madame, replied to all
questions, that the last week had been spent at the house of a relation in the
country. Thus the affair died away, and was generally forgotten; for the girl,
ostensibly to relieve herself from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a
final adieu to the perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother’s residence
in the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée.
The atrocity.
It was about five months
after this return home, that her friends were alarmed by her sudden
disappearance for the second time. Three days elapsed, and nothing was heard of
her. On the fourth her corpse was found floating in the Seine, near the shore
which is opposite the Quartier of the Rue Saint Andree, and at a point not very
far distant from the secluded neighborhood of the Barrière du Roule.
The atrocity of this
murder, (for it was at once evident that murder had been committed,) the youth
and beauty of the victim, and, above all, her previous notoriety, conspired to
produce intense excitement in the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call
to mind no similar occurrence producing so general and so intense an effect.
For several weeks, in the discussion of this one absorbing theme, even the
momentous political topics of the day were forgotten. The Prefect made unusual
exertions; and the powers of the whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked
to the utmost extent.
Upon the first discovery of
the corpse, it was not supposed that the murderer would be able to elude, for
more than a very brief period, the inquisition, which was immediately set on
foot. It was not until the expiration of a week that it was deemed necessary to
offer a reward; and even then this reward was limited to a 1000 francs. In the
mean time the investigation proceeded with vigor, if not always with judgment,
and numerous individuals were examined to no purpose; while, owing to the
continual absence of all clue to the mystery, the popular excitement greatly
increased.
At the end of the tenth day
it was thought advisable to double the sum originally proposed; and, at length,
the second week having elapsed without leading to any discoveries, and the
prejudice which always exists in Paris against the Police having given vent to
itself in several serious émeutes, the Prefect took it upon himself to offer
the sum of 20,000 francs “for the conviction of the assassin,” or, if more than
one should prove to have been implicated, “for the conviction of any one of the
assassins.”
In the proclamation setting
forth this reward, a full pardon was promised to any accomplice who should come
forward in evidence against his fellow; and to the whole was appended, wherever
it appeared, the private placard of a committee of citizens, offering 10,000 francs,
in addition to the amount proposed by the Prefecture. The entire reward thus
stood at no less than 30,000 francs, which will be regarded as an extraordinary
sum when we consider the humble condition of the girl, and the great frequency,
in large cities, of such atrocities as the one described.
No one doubted now that the
mystery of this murder would be immediately brought to light. But although, in
one or two instances, arrests were made which promised elucidation, yet nothing
was elicited which could implicate the parties suspected; and they were
discharged forthwith.
Tomorrow: Part 2.
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