The Gold-Bug (1843)
Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849)
What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
-- All in the Wrong
Many years ago, I became the intimate friend of a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to poverty. To avoid the shame resulting from his disasters, he left New Orleans, the city of his ancestors, and made his home at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.
This island is very unique. It consists of nothing more than sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its width at no point is more than a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a barely noticeable creek that oozes through a wilderness of reeds and slime which is a favorite habitat of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, as one might expect, is scant, or at least very low. No trees of any size are to be seen. Near the western end, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings (that are inhabited during summer by those escaping the dust and fever of Charleston), the bristly palmetto may be found; but the whole island, except for this western point and a line of hard white beach on the sea-coast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of sweet myrtle which is prized by the horticulturists[1] of England. The shrub here often reaches fifteen or twenty feet high, and forms an almost impenetrable thicket, filling the air with its fragrance.
In the innermost depths of this thicket, not far from the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut where he lived when I first met him by accident. This soon developed into friendship -- for much in this solitary man aroused my interest and respect. I found him well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy,[2] and suffering from peculiar moods that alternated from enthusiasm to melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely used them. His chief amusements were shooting and fishing or wandering along the beach and through the myrtles looking for shells or insect specimens -- his collection of the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm.[3] In these expeditions he was usually accompanied by an old negro, named Jupiter, who had been freed from slavery before the family’s misfortune, but who could be convinced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he considered his right to attend to his young "Massa Will." It is may even be that Legrand’s relatives, thinking he was somewhat mentally troubled, had contrived to implant this stubbornness into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer Legrand.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom severe, and in the fall of the year a fire is rarely necessary. About the middle of October, 18 -- , however, a day of remarkable chilliness occurred. Just before sunset I scrambled through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks -- my home was, at that time, in Charleston, about nine miles from the island, and the methods of travelling back and forth were very far behind those of today. On reaching the hut I knocked, as was my custom, and getting no reply, looked for the key in the place I knew it was hidden, unlocked the door, and went in. A fine fire was blazing in the fireplace. It was a novel thing, and one for which I was grateful. I threw off an overcoat, sat in an armchair by the crackling logs, and waited patiently for my hosts to arrive.
Soon after dark they arrived, and welcomed me cordially. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some marsh-hens for dinner. Legrand was in one of his fits – what else can I call them? -- of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve,[4] forming a new species, and, in addition, had hunted down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabaeus (beetle) which he believed to be totally new, on which he wanted my opinion the following morning.
"And why not tonight?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and wishing the whole species of scarabaei to the devil.
"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so long since I saw you; and how could I predict that you’d visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met Lieutenant G -- -- , from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here tonight, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!"
"What? -- sunrise?"
"Nonsense!no! -- the bug. It is a brilliant gold color -- about the size of a large hickory-nut -- with two jet black spots near the back end, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The antennae are -- "
"Deyaintno tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin' on you," here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing -- meber feel half so hebby a bug in my life." [“There isn’t nothing in him, Master Will, I keep telling you. The bug is a gold-bug, solid, every bit of him, inside and all, except his wing – I never felt half so heavy a bug in my life."]
"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, a bit more sincerely, it seemed to me, than the situation demanded; "Is that any reason to let the birds you’re cooking burn? The color" -- here he turned to me -- "is really almost enough to justify Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more brilliant metallic luster than his scales emit -- but you cannot judge this until tomorrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.
"Never mind," he said at length, "this will do"; and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what looked like very dirty foolscap,[5] and drew on it a rough sketch with pen. While he did this, I stayed in my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design was complete, he handed it to me without getting up. As I took it, a loud growl was heard, followed by a scratching at the door.
Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, jumped on my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention on my previous visits. When his playing was over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself puzzled at what my friend had drawn there.
"Well!" I said, after studying it for some minutes, "this is a strange scarabaeus, I must confess; new to me; never saw anything like it before -- unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, which it resembles more than anything else that I’ve seen."
"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand. "Oh -- yes -- well, it does appear that way on paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth -- and then the shape of the whole is oval."
"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to get any idea of its appearance."
"Well, I don't know," said he, a little annoyed, "I draw tolerably well -- should do it at least – I’ve had good masters, and I flatter myself that I’m not that much of a blockhead."
"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a very passable skull -- indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent skull, based on the usual images about such physiological specimens -- and your scarabaeus must be the queerest scarabaeus in the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get a very thrilling fantasy from this clue.
I presume you will call the bug scarabaeus caputhominis,[6] or something of that kind -- there are many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the antennae you spoke of?"
"The antennae!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting riled up on the subject; "I am sure you must see the antennae. I made them as clear as they are in the original insect, and I presume that is enough."
"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have -- still I don't see them"; and I handed him the paper without additional comment, not wishing to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn things had taken; his ill humor puzzled me -- and, as for the drawing of the beetle, there were positively no antennae visible, and the whole did resemble very closely the ordinary outlines of a death's-head.
He accepted the paper irritably, and was about to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design suddenly caught his attention. In an instant his face grew violently red -- in another, excessively pale. For some minutes he continued to examine the drawing carefully where he sat. Finally he rose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to sit on a sea-chest in the far corner of the room. Here he again anxiously examined the paper; turning it in all directions. He said nothing, however, and his behavior greatly astonished me; but I thought it wise not to aggravate his growing moodiness with another comment. Soon he took from his coat-pocket a wallet, placed the paper carefully in it, and put both in a writing desk, which he locked. He now became more collected; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. But he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As the evening progressed he became more and more absorbed in thought, and none of my efforts could rouse him. I had intended to spend the night at the hut, as I had often done before, but, seeing my host in this mood, I thought it proper to leave. He did not press me to stay, but, as I left, he shook my hand with even more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during this interval I saw nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.
"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now? -- how is your master?"
"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be." ["Why, to speak the truth, Master, he is not so very well as might be."]
"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?"
"Dar!dat's it! -- himneber 'plain of notin' -- but him berry sick for all dat." ["There! That's it! – he never complains of nothing -- but he is very sick for all that."]
"Very sick, Jupiter! -- why didn't you say so immediately? Is he in bed?"
"No, dat he aint! -- heaint 'fin'dnowhar -- dat's just whar de shoe pinch -- my mind is got to be barryhebby 'bout poor Massa Will." ["No, that he isn’t! -- he isn’t confined nowhere -- that's just where the shoe pinches (what the issue is) -- my mind has gotten very heavy about poor Master Will.]
"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about. You say your master is sick. Has he told you what’s wrong with him?"
"Why, massa, 'taint worf while for to git mad about de matter -- Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him -- but den what make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon[7] all de time -- " ["Why, master, it is not worthwhile to get mad about the matter -- Master Will says nothing at all is the matter with him -- but then what makes him go about looking this here way, with his head down and his shoulders up, and as white as a ghost? And then he keeps a ciphering all the time --]
"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"
"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate -- de queerest figgurs I ebber did see. Isegittin' to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers.Todder day he gib me slip 'fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when he did come -- but Isesich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all -- he looked so berry poorly." ["Keeps ciphering with the figures on the slate – the queerest figures I ever did see. I am getting scared, I tell you. I have to keep a mighty tight eye on his maneuvers. The other day he gave me the slip before the sun was up and was gone the whole of the blessed day. I had a big stick ready cut for to give him a good beating when he did come -- but I am such a fool that I hadn't the heart after all -- he looked so very poorly."]
"Eh? -- what? -- ah yes! -- on the whole I think you’d better not be too severe with the poor fellow -- don't beat him, Jupiter -- he can't very well stand it -- but you have no idea of what has caused this illness, or rather this change of behavior? Has anything unpleasant happened since I saw you last?"
"No, massa, deyaint bin noffinonpleasantsince den -- 'twas 'fore den I'm feared -- 'twas de berry day you was dare." ["No, Master, there hasn’t been nothing unpleasant since then – it was before then I think – it was the very day you was there."]
"How?what do you mean?"
"Why, massa, I mean de bug -- dare now."["Why, Master, I mean the bug -- there now."]
"The what?"
"De bug -- I'm berry sartaindat Massa Will bin bit somewhere 'bout de head by datgoole-bug." ["The bug -- I'm very certain that Master Will has been bit somewhere about the head by that gold-bug."]
"And what cause, have you, Jupiter, to think such a thing?"
"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see sich a deuced bug -- he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go 'gin mighty quick, I tell you -- den was de time he must ha' got de bite. I didn't like de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff a piece of it in hemouff -- dat was de way." ["Cause enough, master, and a mouth too. I never did see such a deuced bug -- he kick and he bite everything that comes near him. Master Will caught him first, but had to let him go again mighty quick, I tell you – that was the time he must have gotten the bite. I didn't like the look of the bug mouth, myself, anyway, so I wouldn't take hold of him with my finger, but I caught him with a piece of paper that I found. I wrap him up in the paper and stuff a piece of it in his mouth – that was the way."]
"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick?"
"I don't think noffin' about it -- I nose it. What make him dream 'bout de goole so much, if 'taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Iseheerd 'bout demgoole-bugs 'fore dis." ["I don't think nothing about it -- I know it. What makes him dream about the gold so much, if it aint because he got bit by the gold-bug? I have heard about them gold-bugs before this."]
"But how do you know he dreams about gold?"
"How I know? why, 'cause he talk about it in he sleep -- dat's how I nose." ["How do I know? why, because he talks about it in his sleep – that's how I knows."
"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what happy occasion am I have the honor of a visit from you today?"
"What de matter, massa?"
"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?"
"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel"; and here Jupiter handed me a note which ran thus:
"My Dear -- --
"Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have not been so foolish as to be offended by any little brusquerie[8] of mine; but no, that’s unlikely.
"Since I saw you I have had serious reasons to be anxious. I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether I should tell it at all.
"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys me, almost beyond what I can stand, by his well-meant attentions. Would you believe it? -- he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to discipline me for giving him the slip, and spending the day, alone, among the hills on the mainland. I honestly believe that my sickly appearance alone saved me a beating.
"I haven’t added anything to my cabinet since we met last.
"If you can, in any way, when it’s convenient, come over with Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you tonight, on important business. I assure you that it is of the highest importance.
"Ever yours,