The black cat text. The Black Cat Full Text and Analysis 2022-10-31
The black cat text Rating:
8,2/10
127
reviews
The short story "The Black Cat" by Edgar Allan Poe is a tale of obsession, madness, and ultimately, murder. The narrator, who is never named, becomes increasingly obsessed with a black cat that he owns, to the point where he begins to resent and even hate the animal. As his obsession grows, the narrator's mental state deteriorates and he becomes more erratic and violent.
The narrator initially seems to have a fondness for the black cat, which he describes as "a remarkably large and beautiful animal." However, as the story progresses, it becomes clear that the narrator's love for the cat is not genuine, but rather a manifestation of his own ego and desire to be admired. He brags about the cat's intelligence and even compares it to a "demon" that can read his thoughts.
As the narrator's mental state deteriorates, he becomes increasingly abusive towards the cat, eventually cutting out one of its eyes in a fit of rage. This act of violence seems to mark a turning point for the narrator, as it is the beginning of a downward spiral that ultimately leads to murder.
The narrator's obsession with the black cat ultimately consumes him, and he becomes convinced that the animal is plotting against him. This paranoia leads him to commit a gruesome act of violence, as he murders his wife and attempts to conceal the body by walling it up in the cellar.
In the end, the narrator's madness is revealed when the black cat appears at the scene of the crime, leading to his arrest and eventual confession. The story serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of obsession and the destructive power of the human psyche.
Overall, "The Black Cat" is a disturbing and thought-provoking tale that explores the dark side of human nature and the consequences of letting our passions consume us. It serves as a reminder of the importance of maintaining control over our emotions and not letting them dictate our actions.
The Black Cat History of the Text
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. Edgar Allan Poe The black cat Short Horror story Full English Text For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. My happiness was supreme! The only creature to escape the man's initial wrath is a beloved black cat named Pluto, but one night after a serious bout of heavy drinking, Pluto angers him for some minor infraction, and in a drunken fury, the man seizes the cat, which promptly bites him. For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me.
We had birds, gold fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat. The citation above will include either 2 or 3 dates. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself — "Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain. I am almost ashamed to own -- yes, even in this felon's cell, I am almost ashamed to own -- that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimæras it would be possible to conceive. It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration.
Thinking to assuage his guilt, the protagonist begins searching out a second black cat to replace Pluto. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it — knew nothing of it — had never seen it before. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it -- knew nothing of it -- had never seen it before. The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me.
Poe had a problem with alcohol himself. On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. These walls—are you going, gentlemen? This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil — and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it.
. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place—some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart — one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. FOR THE MOST wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief.
The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than either of these. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the I i mb of a tree; — hung it with the tears streami ng from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; — hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence; — hung ihbecausel knew that in so doing I was committing a sin —a deadly sin that would sojeopardize my immortal soul as to place it — if such a thing were possible — even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.
EDGAR ALLAN POE THE BLACK CAT short Horror Tale story TEXT
But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I not dream. Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character -- through the instrumentality of the Fiend One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; -- hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; -- hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence; -- hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin -- a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it -- if such a thing were possible -- even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God. I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.
I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. What types of conflict physical, moral, intellectual, or emotional do you see in this story? My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own.
