The Masque of the Red Death

{"text":"\nTHE\nMASQUE\nOF\nTHE\nRED\nDEATH\nBY\nEDGAR\nALLAN\nPOE\n7^WYS`f\n7Taa]e\nCOPYRIGHT INFORMATION\nShort Story: \u201cThe Masque of the Red Death\u201d\nAuthor: Edgar Allan Poe, 1809\u201349\nFirst published: 1842\nThe original short story is in the public domain in the\nUnited States and in most, if not all, other countries as well.\nReaders outside the United States should check their own\ncountries\u2019 copyright laws to be certain they can legally\ndownload this e-story. The Online Books Page has an FAQ\nwhich gives a summary of copyright durations for many\nother countries, as well as links to more official sources.\nThis PDF ebook was\ncreated by Jos\u00e9 Men\u00e9ndez.\nTHE \u201cRed Death\u201d had long devastated the country. No\npestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was\nits Avatar and its seal\u2014the redness and the horror of blood.\nThere were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then\nprofuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet\nstains upon the body and especially upon the face of the\nvictim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid\nand from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole\nseizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were the\nincidents of half an hour.\nBut the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and\nsagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he\nsummoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted\nfriends from among the knights and dames of his court, and\nwith these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his\ncastellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent\nstructure, the creation of the prince\u2019s own eccentric yet\naugust taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall\nhad gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought\nfurnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They\nresolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the\nsudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The\nabbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the\ncourtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world\ncould take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to\ngrieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the\nappliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were\nimprovisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were\nmusicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and\nsecurity were within. Without was the \u201cRed Death.\u201d\n3\n4\nTHE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH\nIt was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of\nhis seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously\nabroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand\nfriends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.\nIt was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let\nme tell of the rooms in which it was held. These were\nseven\u2014an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such\nsuites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors\nslide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view\nof the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was\nvery different, as might have been expected from the duke\u2019s\nlove of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly\ndisposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at\na time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty\nyards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in\nthe middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window\nlooked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the\nwindings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass\nwhose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of\nthe decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at\nthe eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue\u2014and\nvividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was\npurple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes\nwere purple. The third was green throughout, and so were\nthe casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with\norange\u2014the fifth with white\u2014the sixth with violet. The\nseventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet\ntapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls,\nfalling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and\nhue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows\nfailed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here\nwere scarlet\u2014a deep blood color. Now in no one of the\nseven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid\nEDGAR ALLAN POE\n5\nthe profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and\nfro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any\nkind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of\nchambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there\nstood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a\nbrazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass\nand so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were\nproduced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances.\nBut in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-\nlight that streamed upon the dark hangings through the\nblood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced\nso wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered,\nthat there were few of the company bold enough to set foot\nwithin its precincts at all.\nIt was in this apartment, also, that there stood against\nthe western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum\nswung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and\nwhen the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the\nhour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of\nthe clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and\nexceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis\nthat, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra\nwere constrained to pause, momentarily, in their\nperformance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers\nperforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief\ndisconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes\nof the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew\npale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over\ntheir brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when\nthe echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded\nthe assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled\nas if at their own nervousness and folly, and made\nwhispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of\n6\nTHE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH\nthe clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and\nthen, after the lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three\nthousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies),\nthere came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were\nthe same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as\nbefore.\nBut, in spite of these things, it was a gay and\nmagnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He\nhad a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the\ndecora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and\nhis conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some\nwho would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he\nwas not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be\nsure that he was not.\nHe had directed, in great part, the movable\nembellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this\ngreat f\u00eate; and it was his own guiding taste which had given\ncharacter to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque.\nThere were much glare and glitter and piquancy and\nphantasm\u2014much of what has been since seen in \u201cHernani.\u201d\nThere were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and\nappointments. There were delirious fancies such as the\nmadman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much\nof the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible,\nand not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To\nand fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a\nmultitude of dreams. And these\u2014the dreams\u2014writhed in\nand about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild\nmusic of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.\nAnd, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the\nhall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all\nis silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-\nfrozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away\u2014\nEDGAR ALLAN POE\n7\nthey have endured but an instant\u2014and a light, half-subdued\nlaughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the\nmusic swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro\nmore merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted\nwindows through which stream the rays from the tripods.\nBut to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven,\nthere are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night\nis waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the\nblood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery\nappalls; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet,\nthere comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal\nmore solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears\nwho indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other\napartments.\nBut these other apartments were densely crowded, and\nin them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went\nwhirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding\nof midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I\nhave told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted;\nand there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But\nnow there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of\nthe clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of\nthought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the\nthoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it\nhappened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last\nchime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many\nindividuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become\naware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested\nthe attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of\nthis new presence having spread itself whisperingly around,\nthere arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or\nmurmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise\u2014then,\nfinally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.\n8\nTHE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH\nIn an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it\nmay well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could\nhave excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license\nof the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question\nhad out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of\neven the prince\u2019s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the\nhearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without\nemotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death\nare equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be\nmade. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to\nfeel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither\nwit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and\nshrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave.\nThe mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to\nresemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the\nclosest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the\ncheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not\napproved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had\ngone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His\nvesture was dabbled in blood\u2014and his broad brow, with all\nthe features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet\nhorror.\nWhen the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this\nspectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as\nif more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the\nwaltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment\nwith a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the\nnext, his brow reddened with rage.\n\u201cWho dares\u201d\u2014he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers\nwho stood near him\u2014\u201cwho dares insult us with this\nblasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him\u2014that we\nmay know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the\nbattlements!\u201d\nEDGAR ALLAN POE\n9\nIt was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the\nPrince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang\nthroughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince\nwas a bold and robust man, and the music had become\nhushed at the waving of his hand.\nIt was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a\ngroup of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there\nwas a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction\nof the intruder, who, at the moment was also near at hand,\nand now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer\napproach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe\nwith which the mad assumptions of the mummer had\ninspired the whole party, there were found none who put\nforth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within\na yard of the prince\u2019s person; and, while the vast assembly,\nas if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms\nto the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the\nsame solemn and measured step which had distinguished\nhim from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple\u2014\nthrough the purple to the green\u2014through the green to the\norange\u2014through this again to the white\u2014and even thence to\nthe violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest\nhim. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero,\nmaddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary\ncowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while\nnone followed him on account of a deadly terror that had\nseized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had\napproached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet\nof the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the\nextremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and\nconfronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry\u2014and the\ndagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which,\ninstantly afterward, fell prostrate in death the Prince\n10\nTHE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH\nProspero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a\nthrong of the revellers at once threw themselves into the\nblack apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure\nstood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony\nclock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave\ncerements and corpse-like mask, which they handled with so\nviolent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.\nAnd now was acknowledged the presence of the Red\nDeath. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one\ndropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their\nrevel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And\nthe life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of\nthe gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness\nand Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over\nall."}