FREE ESSAY ON TELL TALE HEART

TELL TALE HEART

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 heavens and in the earth. I
heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? 
...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. 
It is impossible to say how the idea of murdering the old man first entered the mind of
the narrator. There was no real motive as stated by the narrator: Object there was none.
Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me....For his gold I
had no desire. I think that it was his eye! 
The narrator states that one of the old man's eyes was a pale blue color with a film over
it, which resembled the eye of a vulture. Just the sight of that eye made the narrator's
blood run cold, and as a result, the eye (and with it the old man) must be destroyed. 
Every night at midnight, the narrator went to the old man's room. Carefully, he turned
the latch to the door, and opened it without making a sound. When a sufficient opening
had been made, a covered lantern was thrust inside. I undid the lantern cautiously...(for
the hindges 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...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. 
The old man suspected nothing. During the day, the narrator continued to perform his
usual duties, and even dared to ask each morning how the old man had passed the night;
however, at midnight, the nightly ritual continued. 
Upon the eighth night, the narrator proceeded to the old man's room as usual; however, on
this night, something was different. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my
powers--of my sagacity....To think that 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...so I knew that he could not
see the opening of the door....I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when
my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening...the old man sprang up in bed, crying
out--'Who's there?' 
The narrator kept quiet, and did not move for an entire hour. The old man did not lie
back down; he was sitting up. Even in that darkness, I knew that he had been lying awake
ever since the first slight noise....His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He
had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. 
When I had waited a long time, very patiently...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 a spider, shot from
out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. 
The eye was wide open. I saw it with perfect distinctness--all a dull blue, with a
hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones....[N]othing else of the
old man's face or person [could be seen]. 
And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of
the senses? For at that moment, the narrator heard the sound such as a watch would make
when it is enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old
man's heart....It increased my fury....But even yet I refrained and kept still. The
heartbeat grew ...quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's
terror must have been extreme. 
The time had come. With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.
The old man shrieked once. The narrator ...dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy
bed over him. He did not die at once, but in a short time, the hideous heartbeat stopped;
then the narrator removed the bed, and examined the body. I placed my hand upon [his]
heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye
would trouble me no more. 
Next came the concealment of the body. The narrator dismembered the corpse by cutting off
the head, the arms and the legs. Three planks were removed from the floor of the chamber
to deposit the remains of what once had been a harmless, elderly man. The boards were
replaced so carefully that no one would have been able to detect any wrong doing or foul
play. There was no mess or blood stains to clean up; the narrator had cut up the body in
a tub. 
It was 4 A.M. by the time this ghastly deed had been completed. A knocking was heard at
the door, and when the narrator answered it, he found three men who quickly introduced
themselves ...as officers of the police. They told the narrator that a neighbor had
reported hearing a shriek in the night, and that they were there conducting an
investigation to make sure that no foul play had occurred. 
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. The narrator
escorted the officers as they searched the premises. Nothing was disturbed; everything
was in order, even in the old man's room. The narrator brought in chairs and insisted
that the officers ...rest from their fatigues.... The narrator brought in another chair,
and placed it upon ...the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim. 
They sat and chatted at ease, while the narrator pleasantly answered their questions.
However, the narrator soon wished them to be gone. ...I felt myself getting pale....My
head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears....The ringing became more distinct; I
talked more freely to get rid of the feeling; but it continued...until, at length, I
found that the noise was not within my ears....It was a low, dull, quick sound--much such
a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. 
The narrator gasped for breath, and spoke ...more quickly--more vehemently. The sound
steadily increased; yet the officers made no notice. The narrator ...arose and argued
about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations. Why would they not be gone?
I paced the floor...with heavy strides....Oh, 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. Was it possible that the officers
did not hear the sound ? No, no! They heard!--they suspected!--they knew!--they were
making a mockery of my horror!....I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I
felt that I must scream or die! All the while the sound grew 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! 
Setting
The story covers a period of approximately eight days with most of the important action
occurring each night around midnight. The location is the home of an elderly man in which
the narrator has become a caretaker. 
Characters
This story contains a nameless narrator, an old man and the police who enter near the end
of the story after the mention, that they were called by a neighbor whose suspicions had
been aroused upon hearing a scream in the night. The protagonist or narrator becomes the
true focus of the tale. This narrator may be male or female because Poe uses only I and
me in reference to this character. Most readers assume that the narrator is a male
because of a male author using a first person point of view; however, this story can also
be plausible when the derranged protagonist appears as a woman. Most critics would argue
this point by saying that Poe would assume that the reader would know that the
protagonist was male, therefore, he would see no need to identify his sexless narrator.
However, Poe was a perfectionist who left very little to guesswork. Could it be that this
was no accident or something that he thought would be universally understood, but that
Poe was creating a story whose impact could be changed simply by imagining this
horrendous and vile deed being committed by a woman? 
Point of View
Poe writes this story from the perspective of the murderer of the old man. When an author
creates a situation where the protagonist tells a personal account, the overall impact of
the story is heightened. The narrator, in this particular story, adds to the overall
effect of horror by continually stressing to the reader that he or she is not mad, and
tries to convince us of that fact by how carefully this brutal crime was planned and
executed. 
Style and Interpretation
Poe's story is a case of domestic violence that occurs as the result of an irrational
fear. To the narrator that fear is represented by the old man's eye. Through the
narrator, Poe describes this eye as being pale blue with a film over it, and resembling
that of a vulture. Does the narrator have any reason to fear the old man or his eye? Is
it this phobia that evokes the dark side, and eventually drives the narrator to madness?
Or could Poe be referring to a belief whose origins could be traced back to Greece and
Rome? 
The belief in the evil eye dates back to ancient times, and even today, is fairly common
in India and the countries bordering the Mediterranean Sea. References are made to it in
Jewish, Islamic, Buddist and Hindu faiths. The belief centers around the idea that those
who possess the evil eye have the power to harm people or their possessions by merely
looking at them. Wherever this belief exists, it is common to assign the evil eye as the
cause of unexplainable illnesses and misfortunes of any kind. 
To protect oneself from the power of the eye, certain measures can be taken. In Muslim
areas, the color blue is painted on the shutters of the houses, and found on beads worn
by both children and animals. There is also a specific hand gesture named the Hand of
Fatima, named after the daughter of Mohammed. This name is also given to an amulet in the
shape of hand that is worn around the neck for protection. In some locations, certain
phrases, such as  as God will or God bless it are uttered to protect the individual from
harm. In extreme cases, the eye, whether voluntarily or not, must be destroyed. One
Slavic folktale relates the story of the father who blinded himself for fear of harming
his own children with his evil eye. 
Would Poe have had knowledge of this rather strange belief? It is altogether possible
that he would have, which creates another interesting twist to this story. Maybe the
narrator who tries to convince us that madness is not really the issue, is telling the
truth. Maybe this vile act is necessary in order to destroy the power of the old man's
evil eye! 
Theme
Human nature is a delicate balance of light and dark or good and evil. Most of the time
this precarious balance is maintained; however, when there is a shift, for whatever
reason, the dark or perverse side surfaces. How and why this dark side emerges differs
from person to person. What may push one individual over the edge will only cause a
raised eyebrow in another. In this case, it is the vulture eye of the old man that makes
the narrator's blood run cold. It is this irrational fear which evokes the dark side, and
eventually leads to murder. The narrator plans, executes and conceals the crime; however,
[w]hat has been hidden within the self will not stay concealed.... (Silverman 208) The
narrator speaks of an illness that has heightened the senses: Above all was the sense of
hearing acute. I heard all things in the heavens and in the earth. I heard many things in
hell. The narrator repeatedly insists that he(she) is not mad; however the reader soon
realizes that the fear of the vulture eye has consumed the narrator, who has now become a
victim to the madness which he had hoped to elude.