Poe, Edgar Allen - The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe

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by Volume 01-05 (lit)


  collateral or circumstantial events. It is the mal-practice of the

  courts to confine evidence and discussion to the bounds of apparent

  relevancy. Yet experience has shown, and a true philosophy will

  always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of truth, arises

  from the seemingly irrelevant. It is through the spirit of this

  principle, if not precisely through its letter, that modern science

  has resolved to calculate upon the unforeseen. But perhaps you do not

  comprehend me. The history of human knowledge has so uninterruptedly

  shown that to collateral, or incidental, or accidental events we are

  indebted for the most numerous and most valuable discoveries, that it

  has at length become necessary, in any prospective view of

  improvement, to make not only large, but the largest allowances for

  inventions that shall arise by chance, and quite out of the range of

  ordinary expectation. It is no longer philosophical to base, upon

  what has been, a vision of what is to be. Accident is admitted as a

  portion of the substructure. We make chance a matter of absolute

  calculation. We subject the unlooked for and unimagined, to the

  mathematical _formulae_ of the schools.

  "I repeat that it is no more than fact, that the larger portion of

  all truth has sprung from the collateral; and it is but in accordance

  with the spirit of the principle involved in this fact, that I would

  divert inquiry, in the present case, from the trodden and hitherto

  unfruitful ground of the event itself, to the contemporary

  circumstances which surround it. While you ascertain the validity of

  the affidavits, I will examine the newspapers more generally than you

  have as yet done. So far, we have only reconnoitred the field of

  investigation; but it will be strange indeed if a comprehensive

  survey, such as I propose, of the public prints, will not afford us

  some minute points which shall establish a direction for inquiry."

  In pursuance of Dupin's suggestion, I made scrupulous examination of

  the affair of the affidavits. The result was a firm conviction of

  their validity, and of the consequent innocence of St. Eustache. In

  the mean time my friend occupied himself, with what seemed to me a

  minuteness altogether objectless, in a scrutiny of the various

  newspaper files. At the end of a week he placed before me the

  following extracts:

  "About three years and a half ago, a disturbance very similar to the

  present, was caused by the disappearance of this same Marie RogΩt,

  from the parfumerie of Monsieur Le Blanc, in the Palais Royal. At the

  end of a week, however, she re-appeared at her customary comptoir, as

  well as ever, with the exception of a slight paleness not altogether

  usual. It was given out by Monsieur Le Blanc and her mother, that she

  had merely been on a visit to some friend in the country; and the

  affair was speedily hushed up. We presume that the present absence is

  a freak of the same nature, and that, at the expiration of a week, or

  perhaps of a month, we shall have her among us again." - Evening

  Paper - Monday June 23. {*17}

  "An evening journal of yesterday, refers to a former mysterious

  disappearance of Mademoiselle RogΩt. It is well known that, during

  the week of her absence from Le Blanc's parfumerie, she was in the

  company of a young naval officer, much noted for his debaucheries. A

  quarrel, it is supposed, providentially led to her return home. We

  have the name of the Lothario in question, who is, at present,

  stationed in Paris, but, for obvious reasons, forbear to make it

  public." - Le Mercurie - Tuesday Morning, June 24. {*18}

  "An outrage of the most atrocious character was perpetrated near this

  city the day before yesterday. A gentleman, with his wife and

  daughter, engaged, about dusk, the services of six young men, who

  were idly rowing a boat to and fro near the banks of the Seine, to

  convey him across the river. Upon reaching the opposite shore, the

  three passengers stepped out, and had proceeded so far as to be

  beyond the view of the boat, when the daughter discovered that she

  had left in it her parasol. She returned for it, was seized by the

  gang, carried out into the stream, gagged, brutally treated, and

  finally taken to the shore at a point not far from that at which she

  had originally entered the boat with her parents. The villains have

  escaped for the time, but the police are upon their trail, and some

  of them will soon be taken." - Morning Paper - June 25. {*19}

  "We have received one or two communications, the object of which is

  to fasten the crime of the late atrocity upon Mennais; {*20} but as

  this gentleman has been fully exonerated by a loyal inquiry, and as

  the arguments of our several correspondents appear to be more zealous

  than profound, we do not think it advisable to make them public." -

  Morning Paper - June 28. {*21}

  "We have received several forcibly written communications, apparently

  from various sources, and which go far to render it a matter of

  certainty that the unfortunate Marie RogΩt has become a victim of one

  of the numerous bands of blackguards which infest the vicinity of the

  city upon Sunday. Our own opinion is decidedly in favor of this

  supposition. We shall endeavor to make room for some of these

  arguments hereafter." - Evening Paper - Tuesday, June 31. {*22}

  "On Monday, one of the bargemen connected with the revenue service,

  saw a empty boat floating down the Seine. Sails were lying in the

  bottom of the boat. The bargeman towed it under the barge office. The

  next morning it was taken from thence, without the knowledge of any

  of the officers. The rudder is now at the barge office." - Le

  Diligence - Thursday, June 26. §

  Upon reading these various extracts, they not only seemed to me

  irrelevant, but I could perceive no mode in which any one of them

  could be brought to bear upon the matter in hand. I waited for some

  explanation from Dupin.

  "It is not my present design," he said, "to dwell upon the first and

  second of those extracts. I have copied them chiefly to show you the

  extreme remissness of the police, who, as far as I can understand

  from the Prefect, have not troubled themselves, in any respect, with

  an examination of the naval officer alluded to. Yet it is mere folly

  to say that between the first and second disappearance of Marie,

  there is no _supposable_ connection. Let us admit the first elopement

  to have resulted in a quarrel between the lovers, and the return home

  of the betrayed. We are now prepared to view a second elopement (if

  we know that an elopement has again taken place) as indicating a

  renewal of the betrayer's advances, rather than as the result of new

  proposals by a second individual - we are prepared to regard it as a

  'making up' of the old amour, rather than as the commencement of a

  new one. The chances are ten to one, that he who had once eloped with

  Marie, would again propose an elopement, rather than that she to whom

  proposals of elopement had been made by one individual, should have

 
them made to her by another. And here let me call your attention to

  the fact, that the time elapsing between the first ascertained, and

  the second supposed elopement, is a few months more than the general

  period of the cruises of our men-of-war. Had the lover been

  interrupted in his first villany by the necessity of departure to

  sea, and had he seized the first moment of his return to renew the

  base designs not yet altogether accomplished - or not yet altogether

  accomplished by _him?_ Of all these things we know nothing.

  "You will say, however, that, in the second instance, there was no

  elopement as imagined. Certainly not - but are we prepared to say

  that there was not the frustrated design? Beyond St. Eustache, and

  perhaps Beauvais, we find no recognized, no open, no honorable

  suitors of Marie. Of none other is there any thing said. Who, then,

  is the secret lover, of whom the relatives (at least most of them)

  know nothing, but whom Marie meets upon the morning of Sunday, and

  who is so deeply in her confidence, that she hesitates not to remain

  with him until the shades of the evening descend, amid the solitary

  groves of the BarriΦre du Roule? Who is that secret lover, I ask, of

  whom, at least, most of the relatives know nothing? And what means

  the singular prophecy of Madame RogΩt on the morning of Marie's

  departure? -- 'I fear that I shall never see Marie again.'

  "But if we cannot imagine Madame RogΩt privy to the design of

  elopement, may we not at least suppose this design entertained by the

  girl? Upon quitting home, she gave it to be understood that she was

  about to visit her aunt in the Rue des Dr⌠mes and St. Eustache was

  requested to call for her at dark. Now, at first glance, this fact

  strongly militates against my suggestion; - but let us reflect. That

  she did meet some companion, and proceed with him across the river,

  reaching the BarriΦre du Roule at so late an hour as three o'clock in

  the afternoon, is known. But in consenting so to accompany this

  individual, (_for whatever purpose -- to her mother known or

  unknown,_) she must have thought of her expressed intention when

  leaving home, and of the surprise and suspicion aroused in the bosom

  of her affianced suitor, St. Eustache, when, calling for her, at the

  hour appointed, in the Rue des Dr⌠mes, he should find that she had

  not been there, and when, moreover, upon returning to the pension

  with this alarming intelligence, he should become aware of her

  continued absence from home. She must have thought of these things, I

  say. She must have foreseen the chagrin of St. Eustache, the

  suspicion of all. She could not have thought of returning to brave

  this suspicion; but the suspicion becomes a point of trivial

  importance to her, if we suppose her not intending to return.

  "We may imagine her thinking thus - 'I am to meet a certain person

  for the purpose of elopement, or for certain other purposes known

  only to myself. It is necessary that there be no chance of

  interruption - there must be sufficient time given us to elude

  pursuit - I will give it to be understood that I shall visit and

  spend the day with my aunt at the Rue des Dr⌠mes - I well tell St.

  Eustache not to call for me until dark - in this way, my absence from

  home for the longest possible period, without causing suspicion or

  anxiety, will be accounted for, and I shall gain more time than in

  any other manner. If I bid St. Eustache call for me at dark, he will

  be sure not to call before; but, if I wholly neglect to bid him call,

  my time for escape will be diminished, since it will be expected that

  I return the earlier, and my absence will the sooner excite anxiety.

  Now, if it were my design to return at all - if I had in

  contemplation merely a stroll with the individual in question - it

  would not be my policy to bid St. Eustache call; for, calling, he

  will be sure to ascertain that I have played him false - a fact of

  which I might keep him for ever in ignorance, by leaving home without

  notifying him of my intention, by returning before dark, and by then

  stating that I had been to visit my aunt in the Rue des Dr⌠mes. But,

  as it is my design never to return - or not for some weeks - or not

  until certain concealments are effected - the gaining of time is the

  only point about which I need give myself any concern.'

  "You have observed, in your notes, that the most general opinion in

  relation to this sad affair is, and was from the first, that the girl

  had been the victim of a gang of blackguards. Now, the popular

  opinion, under certain conditions, is not to be disregarded. When

  arising of itself -- when manifesting itself in a strictly

  spontaneous manner -- we should look upon it as analogous with that

  _intuition_ which is the idiosyncrasy of the individual man of

  genius. In ninety-nine cases from the hundred I would abide by its

  decision. But it is important that we find no palpable traces of

  _suggestion_. The opinion must be rigorously _the public's own_; and

  the distinction is often exceedingly difficult to perceive and to

  maintain. In the present instance, it appears to me that this 'public

  opinion' in respect to a gang, has been superinduced by the

  collateral event which is detailed in the third of my extracts. All

  Paris is excited by the discovered corpse of Marie, a girl young,

  beautiful and notorious. This corpse is found, bearing marks of

  violence, and floating in the river. But it is now made known that,

  at the very period, or about the very period, in which it is supposed

  that the girl was assassinated, an outrage similar in nature to that

  endured by the deceased, although less in extent, was perpetuated, by

  a gang of young ruffians, upon the person of a second young female.

  Is it wonderful that the one known atrocity should influence the

  popular judgment in regard to the other unknown? This judgment

  awaited direction, and the known outrage seemed so opportunely to

  afford it! Marie, too, was found in the river; and upon this very

  river was this known outrage committed. The connexion of the two

  events had about it so much of the palpable, that the true wonder

  would have been a failure of the populace to appreciate and to seize

  it. But, in fact, the one atrocity, known to be so committed, is, if

  any thing, evidence that the other, committed at a time nearly

  coincident, was not so committed. It would have been a miracle

  indeed, if, while a gang of ruffians were perpetrating, at a given

  locality, a most unheard-of wrong, there should have been another

  similar gang, in a similar locality, in the same city, under the same

  circumstances, with the same means and appliances, engaged in a wrong

  of precisely the same aspect, at precisely the same period of time!

  Yet in what, if not in this marvellous train of coincidence, does the

  accidentally suggested opinion of the populace call upon us to

  believe?

  "Before proceeding farther, let us consider the supposed scene of the

  assassination, in the thicket at the BarriΦre du Roule. This thicket,

&nb
sp; although dense, was in the close vicinity of a public road. Within

  were three or four large stones, forming a kind of seat with a back

  and footstool. On the upper stone was discovered a white petticoat;

  on the second, a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, and a

  pocket-handkerchief, were also here found. The handkerchief bore the

  name, 'Marie RogΩt.' Fragments of dress were seen on the branches

  around. The earth was trampled, the bushes were broken, and there was

  every evidence of a violent struggle.

  "Notwithstanding the acclamation with which the discovery of this

  thicket was received by the press, and the unanimity with which it

  was supposed to indicate the precise scene of the outrage, it must be

  admitted that there was some very good reason for doubt. That it was

  the scene, I may or I may not believe - but there was excellent

  reason for doubt. Had the true scene been, as Le Commerciel

  suggested, in the neighborhood of the Rue PavΘe St. AndrΘe, the

  perpetrators of the crime, supposing them still resident in Paris,

  would naturally have been stricken with terror at the public

  attention thus acutely directed into the proper channel; and, in

  certain classes of minds, there would have arisen, at once, a sense

  of the necessity of some exertion to redivert this attention. And

  thus, the thicket of the BarriΦre du Roule having been already

  suspected, the idea of placing the articles where they were found,

  might have been naturally entertained. There is no real evidence,

  although Le Soleil so supposes, that the articles discovered had been

  more than a very few days in the thicket; while there is much

  circumstantial proof that they could not have remained there, without

  attracting attention, during the twenty days elapsing between the

  fatal Sunday and the afternoon upon which they were found by the

  boys. 'They were all _mildewed_down hard,' says Le Soleil, adopting

  the opinions of its predecessors, 'with the action of the rain, and

  stuck together from _mildew_. The grass had grown around and over

  some of them. The silk of the parasol was strong, but the threads of

 

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