Tell-Tale Heart and The Black Cat- Comparison

Question #1. How does each author use ambiguity or uncertainty to add interest and to advance his themes? Cite an example of ambiguity in each story and describe its effect. Support your responses with evidence from the text. 

Question #2. Compare and contrast the social context of the characters in both stories. How do their interactions with others contribute to the themes of the two works? Support your responses with evidence from the text. 

THE TELL-TALE HEART
By: Edgar Allan Poe

TRUE! –nervous –very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I
am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses –not destroyed –not dulled them. Above all
was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many
things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily –how calmly I can tell
you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me
day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had
never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his
eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture –a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever
it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees –very gradually –I made up my mind to
take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen
me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded –with what caution –with what foresight —
with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the
whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door
and opened it –oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I
put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head.
Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly –very, very
slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole
head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a
madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the
lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously –cautiously (for the hinges creaked) –I undid it just so much
that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights –every night
just at midnight –but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work;
for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day
broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a
hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very
profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him
while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch’s minute
hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my
own powers –of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that
there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or

thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed
suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back –but no. His room was as black as
pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,)
and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily,
steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin
fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out –“Who’s there?”

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the
meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; –just as I have
done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan
of pain or of grief –oh, no! –it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul
when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all
the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the
terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him,
although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight
noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had
been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself –“It is
nothing but the wind in the chimney –it is only a mouse crossing the floor,” or “It is merely a
cricket which has made a single chirp.” Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these
suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had
stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful
influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel –although he neither saw nor
heard –to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open
a little –a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it –you cannot imagine how
stealthily, stealthily –until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from
out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open –wide, wide open –and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect
distinctness –all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my
bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man’s face or person: for I had directed the ray as
if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense?
–now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It
increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried
how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart
increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man’s
terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! –do you mark me
well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the
dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable
terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder,
louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me –the sound would be
heard by a neighbour! The old man’s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern
and leaped into the room. He shrieked once –once only. In an instant I dragged him to the
floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But,
for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it
would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the
bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart
and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would
trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took
for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of
all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the
scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye –not even
his –could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out –no stain of any kind
–no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all –ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock –still dark as midnight. As the bell
sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light
heart, –for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with
perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the
night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police
office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, –for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own
in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the
house. I bade them search –search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them
his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into
the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity
of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the
corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat,
and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting
pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat
and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: –It continued and became more distinct: I
talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness –until, at
length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; –but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet
the sound increased –and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound –much such a sound
as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath –and yet the officers heard it
not. I talked more quickly –more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and
argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily
increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if
excited to fury by the observations of the men –but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what
could I do? I foamed –I raved –I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and
grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder
–louder –louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard
not? Almighty God! –no, no! They heard! –they suspected! –they knew! –they were making a
mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony!
Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no
longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now –again! –hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed! –tear up the planks! here, here! —
It is the beating of his hideous heart!”
THE END

TheBlack Cat

By: Edgar Allan Poe

Tomorrow I die. Tomorrow I die, and today I want to tell the world what
happened and thus perhaps free my soul from the horrible weight which lies upon it.

But listen! Listen, and you shall hear how I have been destroyed.
When I was a child, I had a natural goodness of soul which led me to love animals

– all kinds of animals, but especially those animals we call pets, animals which have
learned to live with men and share their homes with them. There is something in the
love of these animals which speaks directly to the heart of the man who has learned
from experience how uncertain and changeable is the love of other men.

I was quite young when I married. You will understand the joy I felt to find that
my wife shared with me my love for animals. Quickly she got for us several pets of the
most likeable kind. We had birds, some goldfish, a fine dog, and a cat.

The cat was a beautiful animal, of unusually large size, and entirely black. I
named the cat Pluto, and it was the pet I liked best. I alone fed it, and it followed me all
around the house. It was even with difficulty that I stopped it from following me through
the streets.

Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which, however,
my own character became greatly changed. I began to drink too much wine and other
strong drinks. As the days passed I became less loving in my manner; I became quick to
anger; I forgot how to smile and laugh. My wife – yes, and my pets, too, all except the
cat – were made to feel the change in my character.
One night I came home quite late from the inn, where I now spent more and more time
drinking. Walking with uncertain step, I made my way with effort into the house. As I
entered I saw – or thought I saw – that Pluto, the cat, was trying to stay out of my way,
to avoid me. This action, by an animal which I had thought still loved me, made me
angry beyond reason. My soul seemed to fly from my body. I took a small knife out of
my coat and opened it. Then I took the poor animal by the neck and with one quick
movement I cut out one of its fear-filled eyes!

Slowly the cat got well. The hole where its eye had been was not a pretty thing to
look at, it is true; but the cat no longer appeared to suffer any pain. As might be
expected, however, it ran from me in fear whenever I came near. Why should it not run?

Yet this did not fail to anger me. I felt growing inside myself a new feeling. Who has not,
a hundred times, found himself doing wrong, doing some evil thing for no other reason
than because he knows he should not? Are not we humans at all times pushed, ever
driven in some unknown way to break the law just because we understand it to be the
law?

One day, in cold blood, I tied a strong rope around the cat’s neck, and taking it
down into the cellar under the house I hung it from one of the wood beams above my
head. I hung it there until it was dead. I hung it there with tears in my eyes, I hung it
because I knew it had loved me, because I felt it had given me no reason to hurt it,
because I knew what my doing so was a wrong so great, a sin so deadly that it would
place my soul forever outside the reach of the love of God!

That same night, as I lay sleeping, I heard through my open window the cries of
our neighbors. I jumped from my bed and found that the entire house was filled with
fire. It was only with great difficulty that my wife and I escaped. And when we were out
of the house, all we could do was stand and watch it burn to the ground. I thought of the
cat as I watched it burn, the cat whose dead body I had left hanging in the cellar. It
seemed almost that the cat had in some mysterious way caused the house to burn so that
it could make me pay for my evil act, so that it could take revenge upon me.

Months went by, and I could not drive the thought of the cat out of my mind one
night I sat in the inn, drinking, as usual. In the corner I saw a dark object that I had not
seen before. I went over to see what it could be. it was a cat, a cat almost exactly like
Pluto. I touched it with my hand and petted it, passing my hand softly along its back.
The cat rose and pushed its back against my hand.

Suddenly I realized that I wanted the cat. I offered to buy it from the innkeeper,
but he claimed he had never seen the animal before. As I left the inn, it followed me, and
I allowed it to do so. It soon became a pet of both my wife and myself.

The morning after I brought it home, however, I discovered that this cat, like
Pluto, had only one eye. How was it possible that I had not noticed this the night before?
This fact only made my wife love the cat more. But I, myself, found a feeling of dislike
growing in me. My growing dislike of the animal only seemed to increase its love for me.
It followed me, followed me everywhere, always. When I sat, it lay down under my chair.

When I stood up it got between my feet and nearly made me fall. Wherever I went, it
was always there. At night I dreamed of it. And I began to that that cat!

One day my wife called to me from the cellar of the old building where we were
now forced to live. As I went down the stairs, the cat, following me as always, ran under
my feet and nearly threw me down.

In sudden anger, I took a knife and struck wildly at the cat. Quickly my wife put
out her hand and stopped my arm. This only increased my anger and, without thinking,
I turned and put the knife’s point deep into her heart! She fell to the floor and died
without a sound.

I spent a few moments looking for the cat, but it was gone. And I had other things
to do, for I knew I must do something with the body, and quickly. Suddenly I noted a
place in the wall of the cellar where stones had been added to the wall to cover an old
fireplace which was no longer wanted. The walls were not very strongly built, and I
found I could easily take down those stones. Behind them there was, as I knew there
must be, a hole just big enough to hold the body. With much effort I put the body in and
carefully put the stones back in their place. I was pleased to see that it was quite
impossible for anyone to know that a single stone had been moved.

Days passed. Still there was no cat. A few people came and asked about my wife;
but I answered them easily. Then one day several officers of the police came. Certain
that they could find nothing, I asked them in and went with them as they searched.

Finally they searched the cellar from end to end. I watched them quietly, and, as I
expected, they noticed nothing. But as they started up the stairs again, I felt myself
driven by some unknown inner force to let the know, to make them know, that I had
won the battle.

“The walls of this building,” I said, “are very strongly built; it is a fine old house.”
And as I spoke, I struck with my stick that very place in the wall behind which was the
body of my wife. Immediately I felt a cold feeling up and down my back as we heard
coming out of the wall itself a horrible cry.

For one short moment the officers stood looking at each other. Then quickly they
began to pick at the stones, and in a short time they saw before them the body of my
wife, black with dried blood and smelling of decay. On the body’s head, its one eye filled
with fire, its wide open mouth the color of blood, sat the cat, crying out its revenge!

The End