Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio.
At Paris, just after dark one
gusty evening in the autumn of 18—, I was enjoying the twofold luxury of
meditation and a meerschaum, in company with my friend C. Auguste Dupin,
in his little back library, or book-closet, au troisiême,
No. 33, Rue Dunôt, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least
we had maintained a profound silence; while each, to any casual observer,
might have seemed intently and exclusively occupied with the curling eddies
of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber. For myself, however,
I was mentally discussing certain topics which had formed matter for conversation
between us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the affair of the
Rue Morgue, and the mystery attending the murder of Marie Rogêt.
I looked upon it, therefore, as something of a coincidence, when the door
of our apartment was thrown open and admitted our old acquaintance, Monsieur
G——, the Prefect of the Parisian police.
We gave him a hearty welcome; for there was nearly
half as much of the entertaining as of the contemptible about the man,
and we had not seen him for several years. We had been sitting in the dark,
and Dupin now arose for the purpose of lighting a lamp, but sat down again,
without doing so, upon G.'s saying that he had called to consult us, or
rather to ask the opinion of my friend, about some official business which
had occasioned a great deal of trouble.
"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed
Dupin, as he forebore to enkindle the wick, "we shall examine it to better
purpose in the dark."
"That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect,
who had a fashion of calling every thing "odd" that was beyond his comprehension,
and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities."
"Very true," said Dupin, as he supplied his visiter
with a pipe, and rolled towards him a comfortable chair.
"And what is the difficulty now?" I asked. "Nothing
more in the assassination way, I hope?"
"Oh no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the
business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt that we can
manage it sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought Dupin would like
to hear the details of it, because it is so excessively odd."
"Simple and odd," said Dupin.
"Why, yes; and not exactly that, either. The fact
is, we have all been a good deal puzzled because the affair is so
simple, and yet baffles us altogether."
"Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which
puts you at fault," said my friend.
"What nonsense you do talk!" replied the Prefect,
"Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain,"
"Oh, good heavens! who ever heard of such an idea?"
"A little too self-evident."
"Ha! ha! ha — ha! ha! ha! — ho! ho! ho!" roared our
visiter, profoundly amused, "oh, Dupin, you will be the death of me yet!"
"And what, after all, is the matter on hand?"
"Why, I will tell you," replied the Prefect, as he
gave a long, steady, and contemplative puff, and settled himself in his
chair. "I will tell you in a few words; but, before I begin, let me caution
you that this is an affair demanding the greatest secrecy, and that
I should most probably lose the position I now hold, were it known that
I confided it to any one."
"Proceed," said I.
"Or not," said Dupin.
"Well, then; I have received personal information,
from a very high quarter, that a certain document of the last importance,
has been purloined from the royal apartments. The individual who purloined
it is known; this beyond a doubt; he was seen to take it. It is known,
also, that it still remains in his possession."
"How is this known?" asked Dupin.
"It is clearly inferred," replied the Prefect, "from
the nature of the document, and from the non-appearance of certain results
which would at once arise from its passing out of the robber's possession;
— that is to say, from his employing it as he must design in the end to
"Be a little more explicit," I said.
"Well, I may venture so far as to say that the paper
gives its holder a certain power in a certain quarter where such power
is immensely valuable." The Prefect was fond of the cant of diplomacy.
"Still I do not quite understand," said Dupin.
"No? Well; the disclosure of the document to a third
person, who shall be nameless, would bring in question the honor of a personage
of most exalted station; and this fact gives the holder of the document
an ascendancy over the illustrious personage whose honor and peace are
"But this ascendancy," I interposed, "would depend
upon the robber's knowledge of the loser's knowledge of the robber. Who
would dare —"
"The thief," said G., "is the Minister D——, who dares
all things, those unbecoming as well as those becoming a man. The method
of the theft was not less ingenious than bold. The document in question
— a letter, to be frank — had been received by the personage robbed while
alone in the royal boudoir. During its perusal she was suddenly
interrupted by the entrance of the other exalted personage from whom especially
it was her wish to conceal it. After a hurried and vain endeavor to thrust
it in a drawer, she was forced to place it, open as it was, upon a table.
The address, however, was uppermost, and, the contents thus unexposed,
the letter escaped notice. At this juncture enters the Minister D——. His
lynx eye immediately perceives the paper,
recognises the handwriting of the address, observes the confusion of the
personage addressed, and fathoms her secret. After some business transactions,
hurried through in his ordinary manner, he produces a letter somewhat similar
to the one in question, opens it, pretends to read it, and then places
it in close juxtaposition to the other. Again he converses, for some fifteen
minutes, upon the public affairs. At length, in taking leave, he takes
also from the table the letter to which he had no claim. Its rightful owner
saw, but, of course, dared not call attention to the act, in the presence
of the third personage who stood at her elbow. The minister decamped; leaving
his own letter — one of no importance — upon the table."
"Here, then," said Dupin to me, "you have precisely
what you demand to make the ascendancy complete — the robber's knowledge
of the loser's knowledge of the robber."
"Yes," replied the Prefect; "and the power thus attained
has, for some months past, been wielded, for political purposes, to a very
dangerous extent. The personage robbed is more thoroughly convinced, every
day, of the necessity of reclaiming her letter. But this, of course, cannot
be done openly. In fine, driven to despair, she has committed the matter
"Than whom," said Dupin, amid a perfect whirlwind
of smoke, "no more sagacious agent could, I suppose, be desired, or even
"You flatter me," replied the Prefect; "but it is
possible that some such opinion may have been entertained."
"It is clear," said I, "as you observe, that the
letter is still in possession of the minister; since it is this possession,
and not any employment of the letter, which bestows the power. With the
employment the power departs."
"True," said G.; "and upon this conviction I proceeded.
My first care was to make thorough search of the minister's hotel; and
here my chief embarrassment lay in the necessity of searching without his
knowledge. Beyond all things, I have been warned of the danger which would
result from giving him reason to suspect our design."
"But," said I, "you are quite au fait in these
investigations. The Parisian police have done this thing often before."
"O yes; and for this reason I did not despair. The
habits of the minister gave me, too, a great advantage. He is frequently
absent from home all night. His servants are by no means numerous. They
sleep at a distance from their master's apartment, and, being chiefly Neapolitans,
are readily made drunk. I have keys, as you know, with which I can open
any chamber or cabinet in Paris. For three months a night has not passed,
during the greater part of which I have not been engaged, personally, in
ransacking the D—— Hotel. My honor is interested, and, to mention a great
secret, the reward is enormous. So I did not abandon the search until I
had become fully satisfied that the thief is a more astute man than myself.
I fancy that I have investigated every nook and corner of the premises
in which it is possible that the paper can be concealed."
"But is it not possible," I suggested, "that although
the letter may be in possession of the minister, as it unquestionably is,
he may have concealed it elsewhere than upon his own premises?"
"This is barely possible," said Dupin. "The present
peculiar condition of affairs at court, and especially of those intrigues
in which D—— is known to be involved, would render the instant availability
of the document — its susceptibility of being produced at a moment's notice
— a point of nearly equal importance with its possession."
"Its susceptibility of being produced?" said I.
"That is to say, of being destroyed," said
"True," I observed; "the paper is clearly then upon
the premises. As for its being upon the person of the minister, we may
consider that as out of the question."
"Entirely," said the Prefect. "He has been twice
waylaid, as if by footpads, and his person rigorously searched under my
"You might have spared yourself this trouble," said
Dupin. "D——, I presume, is not altogether a fool, and, if not, must have
anticipated these waylayings, as a matter of course."
"Not altogether a fool," said G., "but then
he's a poet, which I take to be only one remove from a fool."
"True," said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful whiff
from his meerschaum, "although I have been
guilty of certain doggrel myself."
"Suppose you detail," said I, "the particulars of
"Why the fact is, we took our time, and we searched
every where. I have had long experience in these affairs. I took
the entire building, room by room; devoting the nights of a whole week
to each. We examined, first, the furniture of each apartment. We opened
every possible drawer; and I presume you know that, to a properly trained
police agent, such a thing as a secret drawer is impossible. Any
man is a dolt who permits a 'secret' drawer to escape him in a search
of this kind. The thing is so plain. There is a certain amount of
bulk — of space — to be accounted for in every cabinet. Then we have accurate
rules. The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. After the cabinets
we took the chairs. The cushions we probed with the fine long needles you
have seen me employ. From the tables we removed the tops."
"Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly
arranged piece of furniture, is removed by the person wishing to conceal
an article; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within the
cavity, and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of bedposts are employed
in the same way."
"But could not the cavity be detected by sounding?"
"By no means, if, when the article is deposited,
a sufficient wadding of cotton be placed around it. Besides, in our case,
we were obliged to proceed without noise."
"But you could not have removed — you could not have
taken to pieces all articles of furniture in which it would have
been possible to make a deposit in the manner you mention. A letter may
be compressed into a thin spiral roll, not differing much in shape or bulk
from a large knitting-needle, and in this form it might be inserted into
the rung of a chair, for example. You did not take to pieces all the chairs?"
"Certainly not; but we did better — we examined the
rungs of every chair in the hotel, and, indeed the jointings of every description
of furniture, by the aid of a most powerful microscope. Had there been
any traces of recent disturbance we should not have failed to detect it instantly. A single grain of gimlet-dust, for
example, would have been as obvious as an apple. Any disorder in the glueing
— any unusual gaping in the joints — would have sufficed to insure detection."
"I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the
boards and the plates, and you probed the beds and the bed-clothes, as
well as the curtains and carpets."
"That of course; and when we had absolutely completed
every particle of the furniture in this way, then we examined the house
itself. We divided its entire surface into compartments, which we numbered,
so that none might be missed; then we scrutinized each individual square
inch throughout the premises, including the two houses immediately adjoining,
with the microscope, as before."
"The two houses adjoining!" I exclaimed; "you must
have had a great deal of trouble."
"We had; but the reward offered is prodigious!"
"You include the grounds about the houses?"
"All the grounds are paved with brick. They gave
us comparatively little trouble. We examined the moss between the bricks,
and found it undisturbed."
"You looked among D——'s papers, of course, and into
the books of the library?"
"Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we
not only opened every book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume,
not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion of
some of our police officers. We also measured the thickness of every book-cover,
with the most accurate admeasurement, and applied to each the most jealous
scrutiny of the microscope. Had any of the bindings been recently meddled
with, it would have been utterly impossible that the fact should have escaped
observation. Some five or six volumes, just from the hands of the binder,
we carefully probed, longitudinally, with the needles."
"You explored the floors beneath the carpets?"
"Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined
the boards with the microscope."
"And the paper on the walls?"
"You looked into the cellars?"
"Then," I said, "you have been making a miscalculation,
and the letter is not upon the premises, as you suppose."
"I fear you are right there," said the Prefect. "And
now, Dupin, what would you advise me to do?"
"To make a thorough re-search of the premises."
"That is absolutely needless," replied G——. "I am
not more sure that I breathe than I am that the letter is not at the Hotel."
"I have no better advice to give you," said Dupin.
"You have, of course, an accurate description of the letter?"
"Oh yes!" — And here the Prefect, producing a memorandum-book
proceeded to read aloud a minute account of the internal, and especially
of the external appearance of the missing document. Soon after finishing
the perusal of this description, he took his departure, more entirely depressed
in spirits than I had ever known the good gentleman before.
In about a month afterwards he paid us another visit,
and found us occupied very nearly as before. He took a pipe and a chair
and entered into some ordinary conversation. At length I said, —
"Well, but G——, what of the purloined letter? I presume
you have at last made up your mind that there is no such thing as overreaching
"Confound him, say I — yes; I made the re-examination,
however, as Dupin suggested — but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would
"How much was the reward offered, did you say?" asked
"Why, a very great deal — a very liberal reward
— I don't like to say how much, precisely; but one thing I will
say, that I wouldn't mind giving my individual check for fifty thousand
francs to any one who could obtain me that letter. The fact is, it is becoming
of more and more importance every day; and the reward has been lately doubled.
If it were trebled, however, I could do no more than I have done."
"Why, yes," said Dupin, drawlingly, between the which
whiffs of his meerschaum, "I really — think, G——, you have not exerted
yourself — to the utmost in this matter. You might — do a little more,
I think, eh?"
"How? — in what way?'
"Why — puff, puff — you might — puff, puff — employ
counsel in the matter, eh? — puff, puff, puff. Do you remember the story
they tell of Abernethy?"
"No; hang Abernethy!"
"To be sure! hang him and welcome. But, once upon
a time, a certain rich miser conceived the design of spunging upon this
Abernethy for a medical opinion. Getting up, for this purpose, an ordinary
conversation in a private company, he insinuated his case to the physician,
as that of an imaginary individual.
" 'We will suppose,' said the miser, 'that his symptoms
are such and such; now, doctor, what would you have directed him
" 'Take!' said Abernethy, 'why, take advice,
to be sure.' "
"But," said the Prefect, a little discomposed, "I
am perfectly willing to take advice, and to pay for it. I would
really give fifty thousand francs to any one who would aid me in
"In that case," replied Dupin, opening a drawer,
and producing a check-book, "you may as well fill me up a check for the
amount mentioned. When you have signed it, I will hand you the letter."
I was astounded. The Prefect appeared absolutely
thunder-stricken. For some minutes he remained speechless and motionless,
looking incredulously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that seemed
starting from their sockets; then, apparently recovering himself in some
measure, he seized a pen, and after several pauses and vacant stares, finally
filled up and signed a check for fifty thousand francs, and handed it across
the table to Dupin. The latter examined it carefully and deposited it in
his pocket-book; then, unlocking an escritoire, took thence a letter
and gave it to the Prefect. This functionary grasped it in a perfect agony
of joy, opened it with a trembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents,
and then, scrambling and struggling to the door, rushed at length unceremoniously
from the room and from the house, without
having uttered a syllable since Dupin had requested him to fill up the
When he had gone, my friend entered into some explanations.
"The Parisian police," he said, "are exceedingly
able in their way. They are persevering, ingenious, cunning, and thoroughly
versed in the knowledge which their duties seem chiefly to demand. Thus,
when G—— detailed to us his mode of searching the premises at the Hotel
D——, I felt entire confidence in his having made a satisfactory investigation
— so far as his labors extended."
"So far as his labors extended?" said I.
"Yes," said Dupin. "The measures adopted were not
only the best of their kind, but carried out to absolute perfection. Had
the letter been deposited within the range of their search, these fellows
would, beyond a question, have found it."
I merely laughed — but he seemed quite serious in
all that he said.
"The measures, then," he continued, " were good in
their kind, and well executed; their defect lay in their being inapplicable
to the case, and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources
are, with the Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed, to which he forcibly
adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs by being too deep or too shallow,
for the matter in hand; and many a schoolboy is a better reasoner than
he. I knew one about eight years of age, whose success at guessing in the
game of 'even and odd' attracted universal admiration. This game is simple,
and is played with marbles. One player holds in his hand a number of these
toys, and demands of another whether that number is even or odd. If the
guess is right, the guesser wins one; if wrong, he loses one. The boy to
whom I allude won all the marbles of the school. Of course he had some
principle of guessing; and this lay in mere observation and admeasurement
of the astuteness of his opponents. For example, an arrant simpleton is
his opponent, and, holding up his closed hand, asks, 'are they even or
odd?' Our schoolboy replies, 'odd,' and loses; but upon the second trial
he wins, for he then says to himself, 'the simpleton had them even upon
the first trial, and his amount of cunning is just sufficient to make him
have them odd upon the second; I will therefore
guess odd;' — he guesses odd, and wins. Now, with a simpleton a degree
above the first, he would have reasoned thus: 'This fellow finds that in
the first instance I guessed odd, and, in the second, he will propose to
himself, upon the first impulse, a simple variation from even to odd, as
did the first simpleton; but then a second thought will suggest that this
is too simple a variation, and finally he will decide upon putting it even
as before. I will therefore guess even;' — he guesses even, and wins. Now
this mode of reasoning in the schoolboy, whom his fellows termed 'lucky,'
— what, in its last analysis, is it?"
"It is merely," I said, "an identification of the
reasoner's intellect with that of his opponent."
"It is," said Dupin; "and, upon inquiring of the
boy by what means he effected the thorough identification in which
his success consisted, I received answer as follows: 'When I wish to find
out how wise, or how stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one, or
what are his thoughts at the moment, I fashion the expression of my face,
as accurately as possible, in accordance with the expression of his, and
then wait to see what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind or heart,
as if to match or correspond with the expression.' This response of the
schoolboy lies at the bottom of all the spurious profundity which has been
attributed to Rochefoucault, to La Bougive, to Machiavelli, and to Campanella."
"And the identification," I said, "of the reasoner's
intellect with that of his opponent, depends, if I understand you aright,
upon the accuracy with which the opponent's intellect is admeasured."
"For its practical value it depends upon this," replied
Dupin; "and the Prefect and his cohort fail so frequently, first, by default
of this identification, and, secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather
through non-admeasurement, of the intellect with which they are engaged.
They consider only their own ideas of ingenuity; and, in searching
for anything hidden, advert only to the modes in which they would
have hidden it. They are right in this much — that their own ingenuity
is a faithful representative of that of the mass; but when the cunning
of the individual felon is diverse in character
from their own, the felon foils them, of course. This always happens when
it is above their own, and very usually when it is below. They have no
variation of principle in their investigations; at best, when urged by
some unusual emergency — by some extraordinary reward — they extend or
exaggerate their old modes of practice, without touching their principles.
What, for example, in this case of D——, has been done to vary the principle
of action? What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, and scrutinizing
with the microscope, and dividing the surface of the building into registered
square inches — what is it all but an exaggeration of the application
of the one principle or set of principles of search, which are based upon
the one set of notions regarding human ingenuity, to which the Prefect,
in the long routine of his duty, has been accustomed? Do you not see he
has taken it for granted that all men proceed to conceal a letter,
— not exactly in a gimlet-hole bored in a chair-leg — but, at least, in
some out-of-the-way hole or corner suggested by the same tenor of
thought which would urge a man to secrete a letter in a gimlet-hole bored
in a chair-leg? And do you not see also, that such recherchés
nooks for concealment are adapted only for ordinary occasions, and would
be adopted only by ordinary intellects; for, in all cases of concealment,
a disposal of the article concealed — a disposal of it in this recherché
manner, — is, in the very first instance, presumable and presumed; and
thus its discovery depends, not at all upon the acumen, but altogether
upon the mere care, patience, and determination of the seekers; and where
the case is of importance — or, what amounts to the same thing in the policial
eyes, when the reward is of magnitude, — the qualities in question have
never been known to fail. You will now understand what I meant in
suggesting that, had the purloined letter been hidden any where within
the limits of the Prefect's examination — in other words, had the principle
of its concealment been comprehended within the principles of the Prefect
— its discovery would have been a matter altogether beyond question. This
functionary, however, has been thoroughly mystified; and the remote source
of his defeat lies in the supposition that the Minister is a fool, because
he has acquired renown as a poet. All fools
are poets; this the Prefect feels; and he is merely guilty of a
non distributio medii in thence inferring that all poets are fools."
"But is this really the poet?" I asked. "There are
two brothers, I know; and both have attained reputation in letters. The
Minister I believe has written learnedly on the Differential Calculus.
He is a mathematician, and no poet."
"You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. As
poet and mathematician, he would reason well; as mere mathematician,
he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the mercy
of the Prefect."
"You surprise me," I said, "by these opinions, which
have been contradicted by the voice of the world. You do not mean to set
at naught the well-digested idea of centuries. The mathematical reason
has long been regarded as the reason par excellence."
" 'Il y a à parièr,' " replied
Dupin, quoting from Chamfort, " 'que toute idée publique, toute
convention reçue est une sottise, car elle a convenue au plus grand
nombre.' The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate
the popular error to which you allude, and which is none the less an error
for its promulgation as truth. With an art worthy a better cause, for example,
they have insinuated the term 'analysis' into application to algebra. The
French are the originators of this particular deception; but if a term
is of any importance — if words derive any value from applicability — then
'analysis' conveys 'algebra' about as much as, in Latin, 'ambitus'
implies 'ambition,' 'religio' 'religion,' or 'homines honesti,'
a set of honorable men."
"You have a quarrel on hand, I see," said I, "with
some of the algebraists of Paris; but proceed."
"I dispute the availability, and thus the value,
of that reason which is cultivated in any especial form other than the
abstractly logical. I dispute, in particular, the reason educed by mathematical
study. The mathematics are the science of form and quantity; mathematical
reasoning is merely logic applied to observation upon form and quantity.
The great error lies in supposing that even the truths of what is called
pure algebra, are abstract or general truths. And this error is
so egregious that I am confounded at the
universality with which it has been received. Mathematical axioms are not
axioms of general truth. What is true of relation — of form and
quantity — is often grossly false in regard to morals, for example. In
this latter science it is very usually untrue that the aggregated
parts are equal to the whole. In chemistry also the axiom fails. In the
consideration of motive it fails; for two motives, each of a given value,
have not, necessarily, a value when united, equal to the sum of their values
apart. There are numerous other mathematical truths which are only truths
within the limits of relation. But the mathematician argues, from
his finite truths, through habit, as if they were of an absolutely
general applicability — as the world indeed imagines them to be. Bryant,
in his very learned 'Mythology,' mentions an analogous source of error,
when he says that 'although the Pagan fables are not believed, yet we forget
ourselves continually, and make inferences from them as existing realities.'
With the algebraists, however, who are Pagans themselves, the 'Pagan fables'
are believed, and the inferences are made, not so much through lapse
of memory, as through an unaccountable addling of the brains. In short,
I never yet encountered the mere mathematician who could be trusted out
of equal roots, or one who did not clandestinely hold it as a point of
his faith that x2+px was
absolutely and unconditionally equal to q. Say to one of these gentlemen,
by way of experiment, if you please, that you believe occasions may occur
where x2+px is not
altogether equal to q, and, having made him understand what you
mean, get out of his reach as speedily as convenient, for, beyond doubt,
he will endeavor to knock you down.
"I mean to say," continued Dupin, while I merely
laughed at his last observations, "that if the Minister had been no more
than a mathematician, the Prefect would have been under no necessity of
giving me this check. I knew him, however, as both mathematician and poet,
and my measures were adapted to his capacity, with reference to the circumstances
by which he was surrounded. I knew him as a courtier, too, and as a bold
intriguant. Such a man, I considered, could not fail to be aware
of the ordinary policial modes of action. He could not have failed to anticipate
— and events have proved that he did not fail to anticipate — the waylayings to which he was subjected. He must have foreseen,
I reflected, the secret investigations of his premises. His frequent absences
from home at night, which were hailed by the Prefect as certain aids to
his success, I regarded only as ruses, to afford opportunity for
thorough search to the police, and thus the sooner to impress them with
the conviction to which G—, in fact, did finally arrive — the conviction
that the letter was not upon the premises. I felt, also, that the whole
train of thought, which I was at some pains in detailing to you just now,
concerning the invariable principle of policial action in searches for
articles concealed — I felt that this whole train of thought would necessarily
pass through the mind of the Minister. It would imperatively lead him to
despise all the ordinary nooks of concealment. He could not,
I reflected, be so weak as not to see that the most intricate and remote
recess of his hotel would be as open as his commonest closets to the eyes,
to the probes, to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of the Prefect. I
saw, in fine, that he would be driven, as a matter of course, to simplicity,
if not deliberately induced to it as a matter of choice. You will remember,
perhaps, how desperately the Prefect laughed when I suggested, upon our
first interview, that it was just possible this mystery troubled him so
much on account of its being so very self-evident."
"Yes," said I, "I remember his merriment well. I
really thought he would have fallen into convulsions."
"The material world," continued Dupin, "abounds with
very strict analogies to the immaterial; and thus some color of truth has
been given to the rhetorical dogma, that metaphor, or simile, may be made
to strengthen an argument, as well as to embellish a description. The principle
of the vis inertiæ, for example, seems to be identical in
physics and metaphysics. It is not more true in the former, that a large
body is with more difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, and that
its subsequent momentum is commensurate with this difficulty, than
it is, in the latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while more
forcible, more constant, and more eventful in their movements than those
of inferior grade, are yet the less readily moved, and more embarrassed
and full of hesitation in the first few steps of their progress. Again: have you ever noticed which of the street
signs, over the shop-doors, are the most attractive of attention?"
"I have never given the matter a thought," I said.
"There is a game of puzzles," he resumed, "which
is played upon a map. One party playing requires another to find a given
word — the name of town, river, state or empire — any word, in short, upon
the motley and perplexed surface of the chart. A novice in the game generally
seeks to embarrass his opponents by giving them the most minutely lettered
names; but the adept selects such words as stretch, in large characters,
from one end of the chart to the other. These, like the over-largely lettered
signs and placards of the street, escape observation by dint of being excessively
obvious; and here the physical oversight is precisely analogous with the
moral inapprehension by which the intellect suffers to pass unnoticed those
considerations which are too obtrusively and too palpably self-evident.
But this is a point, it appears, somewhat above or beneath the understanding
of the Prefect. He never once thought it probable, or possible, that the
Minister had deposited the letter immediately beneath the nose of the whole
world, by way of best preventing any portion of that world from perceiving
"But the more I reflected upon the daring, dashing,
and discriminating ingenuity of D——; upon the fact that the document must
always have been at hand, if he intended to use it to good purpose;
and upon the decisive evidence, obtained by the Prefect, that it was not
hidden within the limits of that dignitary's ordinary search — the more
satisfied I became that, to conceal this letter, the Minister had resorted
to the comprehensive and sagacious expedient of not attempting to conceal
it at all.
"Full of these ideas, I prepared myself with a pair
of green spectacles, and called one fine morning, quite by accident, at
the Ministerial hotel. I found D—— at home, yawning, lounging, and dawdling,
as usual, and pretending to be in the last extremity of ennui. He
is, perhaps, the most really energetic human being now alive — but that
is only when nobody sees him.
"To be even with him, I complained of my weak eyes,
and lamented the necessity of the spectacles, under cover of which I cautiously and thoroughly surveyed the whole apartment,
while seemingly intent only upon the conversation of my host.
"I paid especial attention to a large writing-table
near which he sat, and upon which lay confusedly, some miscellaneous letters
and other papers, with one or two musical instruments and a few books.
Here, however, after a long and very deliberate scrutiny, I saw nothing
to excite particular suspicion.
"At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room,
fell upon a trumpery fillagree card-rack of pasteboard, that hung dangling
by a dirty blue ribbon, from a little brass knob just beneath the middle
of the mantel-piece. In this rack, which had three or four compartments,
were five or six visiting cards and a solitary letter. This last was much
soiled and crumpled. It was torn nearly in two, across the middle — as
if a design, in the first instance, to tear it entirely up as worthless,
had been altered, or stayed, in the second. It had a large black seal,
bearing the D—— cipher very conspicuously, and was addressed, in
a diminutive female hand, to D——, the minister, himself. It was thrust
carelessly, and even, as it seemed, contemptuously, into one of the uppermost
divisions of the rack.
"No sooner had I glanced at this letter, than I concluded
it to be that of which I was in search. To be sure, it was, to all appearance,
radically different from the one of which the Prefect had read us so minute
a description. Here the seal was large and black, with the D—— cipher;
there it was small and red, with the ducal arms of the S—— family. Here,
the address, to the Minister, diminutive and feminine; there the superscription,
to a certain royal personage, was markedly bold and decided; the size alone
formed a point of correspondence. But, then, the radicalness of
these differences, which was excessive; the dirt; the soiled and torn condition
of the paper, so inconsistent with the true methodical habits of
D——, and so suggestive of a design to delude the beholder into an idea
of the worthlessness of the document; these things, together with the hyper-obtrusive
situation of this document, full in the view of every visiter, and thus
exactly in accordance with the conclusions to which I had previously arrived;
these things, I say, were strongly corroborative
of suspicion, in one who came with the intention to suspect.
"I protracted my visit as long as possible, and,
while I maintained a most animated discussion with the Minister, upon a
topic which I knew well had never failed to interest and excite him, I
kept my attention really riveted upon the letter. In this examination,
I committed to memory its external appearance and arrangement in the rack;
and also fell, at length, upon a discovery which set at rest whatever trivial
doubt I might have entertained. In scrutinizing the edges of the paper,
I observed them to be more chafed than seemed necessary. They presented
the broken appearance which is manifested when a stiff paper, having
been once folded and pressed with a folder, is refolded in a reversed direction,
in the same creases or edges which had formed the original fold. This discovery
was sufficient. It was clear to me that the letter had been turned, as
a glove, inside out, re-directed, and re-sealed. I bade the Minister good
morning, and took my departure at once, leaving a gold snuff-box upon the
"The next morning I called for the snuff-box, when
we resumed, quite eagerly, the conversation of the preceding day. While
thus engaged, however, a loud report, as if of a pistol, was heard immediately
beneath the windows of the hotel, and was succeeded by a series of fearful
screams, and the shoutings of a terrified mob. D—— rushed to a casement,
threw it open, and looked out. In the meantime, I stepped to the card-rack
took the letter, put it in my pocket, and replaced it by a fac-simile,
(so far as regards externals,) which I had carefully prepared at my lodgings
— imitating the D—— cipher, very readily, by means of a seal formed of
"The disturbance in the street had been occasioned
by the frantic behavior of a man with a musket. He had fired it among a
crowd of women and children. It proved, however, to have been without ball,
and the fellow was suffered to go his way as a lunatic or a drunkard. When
he had gone, D—— came from the window, whither I had followed him immediately
upon securing the object in view. Soon afterwards I bade him farewell.
The pretended lunatic was a man in my own pay."
"But what purpose had you," I asked, "in replacing
the letter by a fac-simile? Would
it not have been better, at the first visit, to have seized it openly,
"D——," replied Dupin, "is a desperate man, and a
man of nerve. His hotel, too, is not without attendants devoted to his
interests. Had I made the wild attempt you suggest, I might never have
left the Ministerial presence alive. The good people of Paris might have
heard of me no more. But I had an object apart from these considerations.
You know my political prepossessions. In this matter, I act as a partisan
of the lady concerned. For eighteen months the Minister has had her in
his power. She has now him in hers — since, being unaware that the letter
is not in his possession, he will proceed with his exactions as if it was.
Thus will he inevitably commit himself, at once, to his political destruction.
His downfall, too, will not be more precipitate than awkward. It is all
very well to talk about the facilis descensus Averni; but in all
kinds of climbing, as Catalani said of singing, it is far more easy to
get up than to come down. In the present instance I have no sympathy —
at least no pity — for him who descends. He is that monstrum horrendum,
an unprincipled man of genius. I confess, however, that I should like very
well to know the precise character of his thoughts, when, being defied
by her whom the Prefect terms 'a certain personage' he is reduced to opening
the letter which I left for him in the card-rack."
"How? did you put any thing particular in it?"
"Why — it did not seem altogether right to leave
the interior blank — that would have been insulting. D——, at Vienna once,
did me an evil turn, which I told him, quite good-humoredly, that I should
remember. So, as I knew he would feel some curiosity in regard to the identity
of the person who had outwitted him, I thought it a pity not to give him
a clue. He is well acquainted with my MS., and I just copied into the middle
of the blank sheet the words —
———— Un dessein si funeste,
S'il n'est digne d'Atrée, est digne de Thyeste.
They are to be found in Crébillon's 'Atrée.' "