Searching the Credibility of Poe’s Most Infamously Disturbed Narrator
Upon meeting the narrator, we find some disturbing twists of “logic.” He begins the tale exclaiming, “True!-Nervous-Very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad (74)?” These opening lines cannot be ignored in understanding the rest of the story to ensue. In many of Poe’s narratives the reader must decide “who” the first person narrator is addressing. Sometimes it is an apparent retelling to unknown future readers who would stumble on the document (i.e. “The Black Cat”), but in this story the narrator seems to be talking to someone directly; this can be construed as his first sentence is not an introductory sentence to a story, but rather an interjection. So whom is he interrupting? He also says, “âÂ?¦why will you say that I am mad (74)?” He seems to be responding to an accusation to being “mad” from an unknown character in the story he is presently interacting with. What type of person is this unknown character? After the narrator denies being “mad” he references a “disease.” He says, “The disease had sharpened my sense-not destroyed-not dulled them (74).” It can be assessed from this that perhaps he is talking to a psychologist or doctor of some sort who is trying to glean his patient’s medical and mental condition. Although it is not known the exact circumstances of his present retelling, it seems most relevant that it is “live,” not a written account; thus, it is subject to erratic, hurried explanations.
As he retells the murder we find some peculiar details that arise suspicion as to the validity of his claims. The narrator seems to come up with the motive on the spot, leading the reader to believe that his “premeditation” lacks a driving force. He says, as though first stumbling on a feasible motive, “I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this (74)!” If he only “thinks” it is the eye, then why does he recount the story carefully stating that every night at midnight he would fix his lantern on this all-consuming eye? It would seem rather difficult to forget your motive, when it held such a significant role in your manner of murder. Noting this crucial inconsistency, can we be expected to take the rest of the story, hanging on his obsession with the eye, as truth? Moreover, his growing emphasis on the eye reflects a present obsession, not a past one, for it cannot be believed to play any past role in the “murder”; after all, it was only in retrospect that he could affirm to his audience that it was the “eye.”
Some other clues furthering this implausible construction of the tale are found in the steps leading to the murder. He indicates that he would let a single ray of lantern light fall directly upon this evil eye. But how could he know exactly were the eye was located in the darkness? He makes sure we know he found the direct placement of the eye every time, not just letting a beam loose and then locating the eye. Can this really be believed? Such perfection and superhuman ability seems rather unconvincing.
In addition, after dismembering the body, the narrator says, “There was nothing to wash out-no stain of any kind-no blood-spot whateverâÂ?¦A tub caught it allâÂ?¦(77)” It doesn’t take a murderer to know that dismembering a newly dead body is a bloody endeavor. The fact that he says there was “no stain of any kind” seems far too inconceivable.
Furthermore, the police show up at 4am, when he had “just” completed his task of hiding the evidence under the floorboards. It seems highly unlikely that the police would arrive at such an hour, called by a neighbor who thought they heard a scream in the night. In the event that these were highly dedicated officers, there are other inconsistencies. As the narrator is being overcome with the noise of the “heart” he begins to act in violent ways. He argues, violently gesticulates, paces the floor in fury, and swings a chair around, making loud and agitated noises. He then states that the police “..stillâÂ?¦chatted pleasantly, and smiled (77).” If they didn’t suspect him of foul play before, why would they doubt the possibly after that display? Why would they stay and cordially chat? This is highly unlikely to have occurred.
Therefore, the “heart” of the story is not to be found in a literal interpretation of a gruesome murder, but rather inside the mind of the narrator. He is obsessive, sporadic, and easily driven to anger for which there is no “logical” cause. In truth, the narrator is clearly a delusional man. He is neither credible nor convincing. The “invention” of motive, superhuman precision of the murder, as well as the unlikely actions of the unsuspecting police, give cause to reject the story completely as taking place in the “real world.”
The “real” obsession of the narrator is with death-particularly its inevitable and unpredictable nature; to avoid death when it comes for you the narrator indicates is, “All in vain (75).” The “old man” is a representation of the narrator’s inner struggle to either destroy death or be destroyed by it. The narrator, referring to the “old man’s” groan, tells us, “âÂ?¦I knew it was the groan of mortal terrorâÂ?¦ I know 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 (75).” This is apparently a very disturbed man; he is “distracted” by the feeling that “mortality”-mortal terror-is transitory and he will soon encounter death’s everlasting hold on him. Upon claiming the role of the “executioner” of death in his mind, he describes, “Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powersâÂ?¦ I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph (75).” Not only does this contrast with his opening line that he had “been” very nervous, but it shows a false sense of glory in overcoming his watchful enemy – death.
Furthermore, there is no guilt in his last confession, “Villains!âÂ?¦dissemble no more! I admit the deed!-tear up the planks!-here, here!-it is the beating of his hideous heart (78)!” He doesn’t show the guilt of a murderer because, quite simply, no murder took place. You cannot kill death. The horrible evil eye with its “hideous veil,” the only barrier between him and the vigilant sight of death, may have been forgotten about in the midst of his “disease,” but it is ever-present (76). We find that the narrator’s fear is so complete that he sees only two options-“I felt that I must scream or die (78)!” As it is apparent by his “screaming,” he chooses the former avenue of madness, rather than submit to the unknown.
In the end, Poe weaves a very convincing portrait of a madman. The narrator realizes that his inner “murder” of death was not sufficient to ward off the awful reality of its effects; death is still measuring out his time like a watch under cotton-muffled at first but growing louder as it approaches. The “tell-tale heart” is not his conscience under murder, but rather the inevitably of death, surviving the narrator’s attempts to overpower it; the “hideous heart” will outlast his meager attempts to still it and “tell” of its final approach-a fate the narrator must meet with his own last cry of “mortal terror.”
