Poe Short Story Discussion Group

[Dark Muse]

In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach.

Here we have a period of normalcy seem to return. We know it took some time for the cat to recover, as it says he healed slowly, and after that things went back to usual. We have no indication that the narrator has acted out during this period of time. Perhaps he was still held in the grip of regret over the terrible thing which he had done to keep him away from the drink for a while.

I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation.

One of the interesting things which I noticed within this story, is the fact that it seems feelings related to love and affection become distorted and perverted by the narrator, he starts out loving his animals and his wife, which turns to his starting to mistreat them, and then the cat, he is driven to cut out the cats eye by the its affection for him. And here, at first he feels sympathetic that the once beloved animal is now terrified of him. But soon that feeling of compassion is turned into irritation, which drives him once to his acts of violence.

And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. 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. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. 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.

This section of the story is something of a paraphrase of the ideas that he expresses in his story The Imp of the Perverse, which is an exploration of just what drives people to do the things they do, what are behind our impulses. The narrator here steps out of the story itself to give us this brief explanation. Perhaps it was done as a way to help build suspense instead of rushing ahead into what happens next. As he leaves us with this line

And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow

So we know that something even more horrible is about to happen.

Because the narrator is telling this as a deathbed confession, perhaps it is a way in which he is trying to excuse himself for what he has done. Perhaps as he stated in the beginning of the story:

Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place --some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.

Perhaps he leaves us with this argument as a way to try and rationalize what he did, to make it sound more "normal" and reduce its truly horrificness, but make it appear as if it really is something common day.

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 offense; --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

Now we have the terrible deed. And this is a most interesting moment in the story, for here the narrator seems to be stepping out of his normal behavior. As here with his hanging of the cat he does not seem to be doing it in a drunken fit of age as previously. But rather he seems to be fully aware of what he is doing it while he does it. In fact he is remorseful even as he acts. In fact his soul reason for doing this action seems to be because he knows it is such a terrible thing to do.

On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of 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 from the conflagration.

Here we have a rather mysterious fire suddenly start, though fires were rather common then with the use necessary use of candles there are many ways in which fires were easily started. But we are given no explanation for the roots or origin for this fire. It also takes the story in an unexpected direction.

I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts --and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect.

He tells us that on the one hand he is not going to seek to establish any sort of connection between his actions and the sudden starting of the fire, yet on the other hand, we is about to provide us with just such a link between the two events.

On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. 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. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire --a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread.

He returns to the site of the ruins of his house. And discovers that all but one wall, which just happens to be the head of his bed has been found to be still standing. One of the things that I think is interesting about this passage, is that it seems to offer some foreshadow to what is about to come later in the story. With this detailed talk of the wall and his recent plastering work he did upon it.

I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal's neck.

We have the completely unexplained image of the cat imprinted upon the wall, and he has verified that this was not just a vision of his, by giving the scene other witnesses:

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. The words "strange!" "singular!" and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity.

At the beginning of the story we were already given the suggestion of the superstitions which revolve around black cats, and now we have these strange events which follow the murder of the beast.

When I first beheld this apparition --for I could scarcely regard it as less --my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. 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.

After his shock and awe of what he has seen, he now begins to rationalize the instance and find some explanation for it to offer the reader that could explain what he had seen.

This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, had then with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.

Now it does strike one as quite odd that a person would throw a hanged cat into a persons chamber window to try and wake them. Though in the panic of the fire, if there was nothing else at hand, it is possible it could have been done as a desperate act. So the explanation he gives is a plausible one, yet it is sketchy enough to make the reader question it.

[PabloQ]

[I have not read the 10/29/08 installment of the story or DM's comments.]

The narrator of The Black Cat seems to be both a weakling and a coward. He openly acknowledges his intemerance and the affects it has on him, but doesn't seem inclined to get himself to stop. There is much at work here that has do with his wife that "he married too young." He gets drunk running around town (obviously not wanting to be at home with her). He speaks to her intemperately and offers her violence. (verbal abuse laced with threats of physical violence which he cannot execute).

If the pets were selected to be agreeable to the wife's temperament and the wife becomes distant to the narrator, it might explain why when he comes home in a drunken rage, he punishes the cat for avoiding him. The cat is supposed to be his one true friend left in the house. I think the cat has become a surrogate for his wife and when he lashes out against the cat, he is actually lashing out at the wife.

My view of what we've read so far.

[Dark Muse]

Nice to see you jump into the discussion.

The narrator of The Black Cat seems to be both a weakling and a coward. He openly acknowledges his intemerance and the affects it has on him, but doesn't seem inclined to get himself to stop.

I agree that he is indeed a rather weak person, as he has these moments in which he says he has just enough humanity left to feel regret over what he has done, but almost instantly, he returns to the bad behavior which he claims makes him act in such an awful way. He seems more inclined to try and seek pity for himself, and excuse his responsibly for what he has done, then to truly feel bad for those he is hurting. He makes his suffering more about himself and the pain he feels when he harms one of the pets or his wife. But he does not truly seem to sympathize with them, he only cares about how what he has done made him feel.

There is much at work here that has do with his wife that "he married too young." He gets drunk running around town (obviously not wanting to be at home with her). He speaks to her intemperately and offers her violence. (verbal abuse laced with threats of physical violence which he cannot execute).

It is an interesting theory, though I do not completely agree with it. When he speaks of his marrying young, he says it as if it is one of the highlights of his life, to prove what "normal" and complacent person he once had been. I do not think it is so obvious that his wife is the reason why he gets drunk, nor that he goes running about town to avoid her. Considering the story does not give us much about their relationship. All we know is that he begins to take to drinking, but the main focus does not seem to be truly upon the wife, she is just another of the "casualties" that happens to be in his way, but everyone suffers equally to his violence and bad tempers. It is not really focused around her.

[Janine]

Quess one of these days, I am going to have to read Poe; it has been on my list way too long now. I think this group seems to be going along really well. It is interesting to read some of the posts. I better work on my reading, so I can join up later on.

[Dark Muse]

Hehe, It has come to a hault for the time, I do not know where everyone else is. I guess busy with other things.

[Janine]

Hehe, It has come to a hault for the time, I do not know where everyone else is. I guess busy with other things.

Oh, you are right. I did not realise the last post was the 14th. I think some of the threads are slow right now - the more serious-minded-discussion ones seem to have fizzled out some - such as the Shakespeare MWIW - that one just can't seem to get off the ground, for some reason.

[LC_Lancer]

Some of us are still here and check in from time to time. As for me, I would agree with you, DM, and say 'other things' need my attention at the moment.
I hope to post soon. I am eager to finish the story. My notes are written, just not typed and ready to post.
I hope next week is better.

[Janine]

Gee, instead of killing a thread, I seem to have awakened this one, and I am not even in the discussion...haha

[PabloQ]

In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. 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. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. 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. 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 offense; --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.

I'll resume my argument of how cowardly and weak this narrator is with this paragraph. There are different ways that an individual can react to tempatation. This is the act of a loveless man. Given his recognition that what he is about to do is wrong and that his argument for doing it is just because it is wrong. Recognizing the act as wrong and carrying it through makes it evil and he knows he is condemning himself for all eternity. He is evil. His act is evil. And this time he doesn't need the boost from alcohol to commit it.

The rest of the current passage is curious to me because he doesn't really express shock at the image on the one remaining wall. He doesn't take it as a message or a sign or an omen. Instead he come up with this lame idea that someone tried to warn him about the fire by throwing a dead cat to wake him up. CLANG! CLANG! FIRE! FIRE! He's not waking. Oh, yeah, throw that dead cat, see if that works. Many of Poe's narrator's flirt with madness and some out and out embrace it. This one I think is a full-fledged nut job. At this point in the story, he's lost his mind and is beyond rational. Question: Why? Something else (and we know it isn't the cat) has driven him out of his mind. I still say it's the wife.

[Dark Muse]

At this point in the story, he's lost his mind and is beyond rational. Question: Why? Something else (and we know it isn't the cat) has driven him out of his mind. I still say it's the wife.

I do not think there is anything in the story which points out that it is obviously not the cat which is the cause of his madness. We do not in fact know for any absolute fact that it isn't.

As well, in many of Poe's stories there need not been an actually explanation for the madness. In a lot of his stories there is not truly an actual reason for why a character is suddenly driven mad.

I do not see anything within this story to support the theory about his wife. She just is not given that much importance. This story is more about the horror of how a person who previously seemed to lead a normal and happy life, a person who anyone could have related to, a person that could be anyone's neighbor might suddenly just snap and go off the deep end. That such things do not only happy in far away distant places or fantastical settings. But that it can happen to anyone.

[PabloQ]

My point here is that if we accept the narrator as a rational fellow at the beginning and at the end of his life as he claims at the start, people are in general not driven to drink by the pets they love. This man drinks to excess. He does so outside the home in taverns. And he comes home angry, wild, and ready to commit violence. Which he states that he has "offered" to his wife.
From that point on the focus is on this cat that the narrator loves, but the wife hates. I'm interpreting his murder of the cat as the surrogate for killing his wife. The wife up to this point in the story is a distant figure. The cat is close and when he loses it, he kills the cat that he supposedly loves.
One other thing, when the house burns down, his wife, a servant, and himself barely escape. To me, that servant was a means of putting distance once again between himself and his wife. Why not just say that he and his wife escaped? I'm not going back to reread the story to this point, but this may be the only mention of the servant. Why bring it up here if not to create that distance.
The narrator know you don't kill the things you profess to love. You don't kill your wife that you married to young. And yet he stabs the cat's eye out and later cold-heartedly kills this thing he loves. Even after its death, the cat still haunts him, not because of the shadow, but because his wife still lives the actual source of his sickness.

[Dark Muse]

We are going to have to agree to disagree here, becasue I do not agree with the wife theroy of this story. I really do not think that is what Poe was trying to say with this story.

One other thing, when the house burns down, his wife, a servant, and himself barely escape. To me, that servant was a means of putting distance once again between himself and his wife. Why not just say that he and his wife escaped? I'm not going back to reread the story to this point, but this may be the only mention of the servant. Why bring it up here if not to create that distance.

The mention of the servant here was a bit strange, and it is ture that the servant does not appear anywhere else in the story. I did find it odd in reading that suddnely a servant as thrown in, when previously there was no indication that they had one.

My point here is that if we accept the narrator as a rational fellow at the beginning and at the end of his life as he claims at the start, people are in general not driven to drink by the pets they love. This man drinks to excess.

Poe often uses a device known as the unreliable narrator in his stories. I do not belive we are acutally suppose to take the narrator at face vaule when he tries to cliam that he is in fact a rational being. Though he is trying to seek some validation in the reader, as one can see, he is clearly not a rational being. His beliving that he is, is just another proof of his true maddness.

The narrator know you don't kill the things you profess to love. You don't kill your wife that you married to young. And yet he stabs the cat's eye out and later cold-heartedly kills this thing he loves.

One of the main points which Poe makes in this story relates to his theroy about the Imp of the Perverse, he dedicates a rather large portion of this story speaking about this in some detail. And the basic idea behind it is all about the impluses people get and well to sum it up in a nutshell, the fact that a person will do something that is bad, knowing it is bad, for know other reason then precisely because they know it is wrong.

--hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offense; --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.

[Poe_writer]

Poe has always been one of my favorites. I will add this to my bookmarks so I can return to read more of the thread, and chime in where I'm comfortable. (I tend to fade into the woodwork. ha.)

Lija

[Dark Muse]

Feel free to pop in any time.

[Dark Muse]

I will post the next part of the text now.

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 fall to make a deep impression upon my fancy. 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. 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.

One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. 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 perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat --a very large one --fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. 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.

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 of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it --knew nothing of it --had never seen it before. I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife.

For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. 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. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. 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 did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually --very gradually --I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.

What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. 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.

Here we have the black cat number two which can be seen to have some rather striking similarties to dear old Pluto, and starts out much the same. At first the cat is beloved by the narrator, but that affection soons begins to turn into annoyance, and anger, and once more the violent behavior continues. We also have the interesting factor of the wife seeming to be more affecionate with this cat then she was the first one.