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The
Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe, 1843

(* indicates notes at
end)
Berkoff performs Tell-Tale
Heart as part of his One Man show.
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 eye 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 hereto 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!"

Notes:
* |
dissimulation : deception |
* |
scantling: floorboards. In
Berkoff's performance he hesitates as if
searching for the right word, before using this
very obscure word |
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