
Introducing, # analysis, reading, story,
“The Tell-Tale Heart” is a Gothic fiction short story written by Edgar Allan Poe and first published in 1843. It is told from the perspective of an unnamed narrator who recounts their murder of an elderly man with a milky pale blue eye.
The narrator meticulously planned the crime, but is later haunted by the sound of a beating heart, which they perceive as the dead man’s heart still beating. The story’s publication in The Pioneer, and its ambiguity surrounding the main characters and the reason behind the murder, has made it a classic in the genre. Critics have offered various interpretations of the old man’s identity and the meaning behind his “vulture-eye.”
Characters
The story is told from the point of view of an unnamed narrator who is trying to convince the reader of their sanity, while simultaneously describing a murder they committed. The narrator’s goal is to prove to the reader that they are not mad, even though they have just murdered someone.
The victim in the story is an old man with a milky pale blue eye, which the narrator refers to as a “vulture-eye”. The narrator emphasizes the careful calculation of the murder, attempting to create the perfect crime, complete with dismembering the body in the bathtub and hiding it under the floorboards. Despite the narrator’s effort to execute the perfect murder, they become haunted by the sound of a beating heart, which they interpret as the old man’s heart still beating.
The identity of the old man, the relationship between the narrator and the old man, the specific motivation for the murder, and other details are left unclear. The narrator denies having any feelings of hatred or resentment for the man who had, as stated, “never wronged” the narrator. The narrator also denies having killed for greed.
In conclusion, the main characters in “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe are the unnamed narrator and the old man with the milky pale blue eye. The story revolves around these two characters and the murder committed by the narrator.
The Plot
“The Tell-Tale Heart” is a classic horror story that was written by Edgar Allan Poe. The story is told by the narrator who lives with an old man who the narrator has become fixated on due to the old man’s eye, which he describes as having a “vulture-like” appearance.
Despite the old man’s kind demeanor, the narrator becomes increasingly disturbed by the eye and decides to murder the old man. The narrator meticulously plans the murder and waits for the right moment to strike, but once the murder is committed, the narrator begins to hear the sound of the old man’s heartbeat echoing in his mind.
This is a classic example of guilt and the human psyche, as the narrator is consumed by his own madness and the weight of his actions. The story ends with the narrator confessing to the murder after being confronted by the police who have been alerted by the sound of the heartbeat.
This suspenseful and chilling story explores themes of madness, guilt, and the human psyche and is considered one of Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous works. The horror and suspense in “The Tell-Tale Heart” make it a timeless classic that continues to captivate audiences to this day.
Theme
The theme of “The Tell-Tale Heart” is the psychological effects of guilt and fear. The story is about a narrator who becomes obsessed with an old man’s eye and kills him in an attempt to rid himself of the guilt he feels. However, after committing the crime, the narrator is plagued by guilt and fear and begins to hear the old man’s heartbeat echoing in his mind.
The story explores how guilt and fear can drive someone to madness, and how these powerful emotions can ultimately lead to a person’s downfall. Through the narrator’s descent into madness, Poe is showing the power of guilt and fear to destroy a person’s mental stability and well-being.
The Narrator
The narrator in “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a complex and dynamic character who is driven by his own madness and guilt. Some of the key characteristics of the narrator include:
- Insanity: The narrator is clearly disturbed and his thoughts and behavior indicate that he is suffering from some form of mental illness or madness.
- Obsession: The narrator is fixated on the old man’s eye, which he sees as a symbol of his own guilt. This obsession ultimately leads to the old man’s death.
- Guilt: Despite his attempts to justify his actions, the narrator is plagued by guilt and fear. He is haunted by the sound of the old man’s heartbeat, which represents his own guilt and fear.
- Deception: The narrator tries to deceive the reader and himself by claiming that he is not mad, but his actions and thoughts reveal otherwise.
- Arrogance: The narrator is confident in his own abilities and believes that he can commit the perfect crime without being caught. This arrogance ultimately leads to his downfall.
The narrator in “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a complex and disturbed individual who is driven by his own madness and guilt. His actions and thoughts are an example of the unpredictable nature of the human mind and the impact that guilt and fear can have on a person’s behavior.
The Irony
Irony is a literary device that involves a situation or event that is opposite of what is expected. “The Tell-Tale Heart” is full of irony that contributes to the suspense and horror of the story.
- Verbal Irony: The narrator claims to be sane and rational, yet their behavior and actions are clearly the opposite. The narrator’s insistence on their own sanity is a form of verbal irony, as the reader is aware of their madness and irrationality.
- Situational Irony: The narrator believes that they have successfully killed the old man and gotten away with it, but in reality, their own guilt and madness lead to their downfall. The fact that the narrator’s actions result in their own capture is a form of situational irony.
- Dramatic Irony: The reader is aware of the old man’s innocence and the narrator’s madness, but the characters in the story are not. The reader experiences a sense of dramatic irony as they watch the narrator’s downward spiral, knowing full well the true nature of the situation.
- The narrator’s claimed sanity: The narrator begins the story by claiming to be perfectly sane, yet their actions and thoughts are clearly those of a madman. This is a form of verbal irony, where the narrator says one thing but means the opposite.
- The sound of the heartbeat: The sound of the old man’s heartbeat, which the narrator hears after killing him, is ironic because it is a physical representation of the guilt that the narrator is trying to hide.
- The narrator’s perception of the eye: The narrator is driven to kill the old man because of his unsettling “vulture-like” eye, yet the irony is that the old man is described as being kind and harmless. The narrator’s perception of the eye is a reflection of their own madness, not a true representation of the old man.
- The police’s response: The police come to the narrator’s door after hearing the sound of the old man’s heartbeat, yet the narrator is confident that they will not find the body and will leave. The irony is that the police do eventually find the body, leading to the narrator’s downfall.
Dramatic Irony
The narrator’s obsession with the old man’s eye, and his belief that he has successfully hidden his crime, are examples of dramatic irony.
The audience knows that the narrator has committed the murder and hears the old man’s heartbeat, while the narrator is completely unaware that his guilt is leading to his own downfall.
This creates suspense and tension, as the audience anticipates the inevitable moment when the narrator will be caught.
These examples of irony serve to increase the tension and suspense of the story, and to reinforce the theme of madness and guilt. They also help to create a sense of horror and unease, as the reader becomes aware of the twisted reality of the narrator’s mind.
Symbolism
“The Tell-Tale Heart” has several symbols throughout the text. Symbols are objects, characters, or images that are used to represent something beyond themselves. Here are a few examples of symbols in “The Tell-Tale Heart”:
- The old man’s eye: The old man’s eye, which is described as “vulture-like,” is a symbol of the narrator’s guilt and madness. The narrator becomes fixated on the eye and eventually kills the old man, but the eye continues to haunt him even after the murder. The eye symbolizes the narrator’s conscience, which he cannot escape even after committing the crime.
- The beating heart: The beating heart that the narrator hears after killing the old man is a symbol of guilt and remorse. The heart symbolizes the old man’s life, which has been taken by the narrator, and the sound of the heartbeat represents the narrator’s conscience, which is accusing him of the murder.
- The dark and creepy setting: The dark and creepy setting of the story is a symbol of the narrator’s disturbed mind. The dark and creepy atmosphere represents the narrator’s inner turmoil and his descent into madness.
These symbols in “The Tell-Tale Heart” add depth and meaning to the story and help to convey the themes of guilt, madness, and the human psyche. They also contribute to the overall creepy and suspenseful atmosphere of the story.
Analysis
“The Tell-Tale Heart” explores themes of guilt, madness, and the human psyche. The story is told from the first-person perspective of the narrator, who is driven by an obsession with an old man’s “vulture-like” eye. The old man’s eye is seen as a symbol of the narrator’s own guilt and his fear of being caught.
The story also employs irony, as the narrator’s own guilt and fear ultimately lead to his downfall. The sound of the old man’s heartbeat that the narrator hears after killing him is an example of irony, as the heartbeat represents the narrator’s own guilt and fear. The narrator’s desire to rid himself of the eye, and his belief that he can hide his crime, is also ironic as he is ultimately unable to escape his guilt and fear.
The story also employs themes of madness and the unpredictability of the human mind. The narrator’s descent into madness is a key aspect of the story, as his obsession with the old man’s eye and his belief that he can commit the perfect crime ultimately lead to his own downfall. The narrator’s behavior and thoughts are also an example of the unpredictable nature of the human mind, as he goes from being a seemingly rational person to a madman driven by guilt and fear.
In conclusion, “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a masterful exploration of guilt, madness, and the human psyche. Poe’s use of symbolism, irony, and themes of madness contribute to the overall suspense and terror of the story, making it one of his most famous works.
Similar Books
If you’re looking for books similar to “The Tell-Tale Heart,” you might consider the following:
- “The Cask of Amontillado” by Edgar Allan Poe
- “A Rose for Emily” by William Faulkner
- “The Black Cat” by Edgar Allan Poe
- “The Fall of the House of Usher” by Edgar Allan Poe
- “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
- “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson
- “The Speaker’s Progress” by Joan Aiken
- “The Hound of the Baskervilles” by Arthur Conan Doyle
- “The Body” by Stephen King
- “The Twisted Smile” by Agatha Christie
These books, like “The Tell-Tale Heart,” explore themes of guilt, fear, and madness, and often feature suspenseful and unsettling narratives.
Full Text
The Tell-Tale Heart
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! One of his eyes resembled that 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, so 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 had 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 the 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 has 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 single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell 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 now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? — 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 eye. 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 neighbor! 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 neighbor 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 definitiveness — 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!”
Edgar Allan Poe
January 1843