OF THE RED DEATH
Edgar Allan Poe 1842
The "Red
Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence
had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its
seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains,
and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with
dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon
the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the
aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure,
progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an
hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and
sagacious. When
his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a
thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and
dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one
of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and
magnificent
structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste.
A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The
courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and
welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or
egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within.
The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers
might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of
itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had
provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there
were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there
were musicians,
there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within.
Without was the "Red Death."
It was toward
the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and
while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero
entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual
magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me
tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven --an imperial suite.
In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while
the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the
view
of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as
might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments
were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one
at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each
turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall
and
narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the
windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color
varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber
into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in
blue --and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple
in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third
was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished
and lighted with orange --the fifth with white --the sixth with violet. The
seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung
all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet
of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the
windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were
scarlet --a deep blood color.
Now in no one
of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum,
amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or
depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from
lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that
followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod,
bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and
so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy
and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of
the
fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes,
was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances
of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set
foot
within its precincts at all. It was in this apartment, also, that there stood
against the
western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum
swung to and fro with a dull,
heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face,
and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock
a sound
which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a
note
and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were
constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the
sound;
and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their
evolutions; and there was a brief
disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet
rang,
it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate
passed their
hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the
echoes
had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians
looked
at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made
whispering
vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in
them no similar
emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand
and six
hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the
clock, and
then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before. But,
in spite of
these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were
peculiar. He had
a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora
of mere fashion. His plans were
bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.
There are some who would
have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to
hear and see and
touch him to be sure that he was not. He had directed, in great part, the
moveable
embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it
was his own
guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were
grotesque.
There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm --much of what has
been since
seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque
figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There
were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the
beautiful, much of
the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of
that which might have
excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a
multitude of dreams.
And these --the dreams --writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and
causing the wild
music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there
strikes the ebony clock
which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still,
and all is silent save the
voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes
of the chime die away
--they have endured but an instant --and a light, half-subdued laughter floats
after them as they depart.
And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more
merrily than ever,
taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the
tripods. But to the
chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven,
there are now none of the maskers who venture;
for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the
blood-colored panes; and the
blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him
whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes
from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any
which reaches their ears
who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.
But these
other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of
life. And the revel went
whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the
sounding of
as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers
were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as
before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the
clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that
more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the
thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus,
too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had
utterly sunk into silence, there were many
individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence
of a masked figure which had
arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this
new presence having spread itself
whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or
murmur, expressive of
disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of
disgust. In an assembly of phantasms such as I
have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have
excited such sensation. In truth the
masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in
question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone
beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in
the hearts of the most reckless which
cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and
death are equally jests, there are matters
of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to
feel that in the costume and bearing of
the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt,
and shrouded from head to foot in the
habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so
nearly to resemble the countenance of
a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in
detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have
been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers
around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of
the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all
the features of the face, was besprinkled
with the scarlet horror.
When the eyes
of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn
movement, as if more fully
to sustain its role, stalked to and froamong the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment
with a strong shudder
either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened withrage.
"Who
dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him
--"who dares insult us with this blaspphemous mockery? Seize
him and unmask him --that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the
battlements!"
It was in the
eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these
words. They rang throughout the seven
rooms loudly and clearly --for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the
music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers
by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight
rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the
moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate
and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain
nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the
mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand
to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within
a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one
impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the
walls,
he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step
which had distinguished him from the first, through the
blue chamber to the purple --through the purple to the green --through the
green to the orange --through this again to the white --and
even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.
It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero,
maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed
hurriedly through the six chambers, while none
followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore
aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid
impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the
latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment,
turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the
dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which,
instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then,
summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers
at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer,
whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the
shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the
grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so
violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form. And now was acknowledged
the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief
in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in
the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture
of his
fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the
gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay
and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Prospero’s name is like prosperous. He is not prosperous at all, he just has his wealth in which he is greedy, his greed which is a sin.
The clock symbolizes time. Each time the clock strikes, the partiers are closer to death. The clock is their life, counting down the seconds left.
As the sun rises as sets, going east to west is much like the rooms starting in the east and ending in the west. It symbolizes Prospero’s life. As the hours of day light slowing count down the rest of his life.
The church is there to confess your sins. But Prospero is always sinning.
The first room,
which was blue symbolizes “deity,
eternity, innocence: color of heaven, loyalty, Mary's color (melancholy,
sincerity).”( http://www.dutchflowerlink.nl/engels/Lessons/symbolic/symbolic_colors.htm)
a less of all of the colors. Then end color, black symbolizes “darkness,
deepest mourning, deviation, sin.” He ends with the worst sin of all before he
dies. The rooms themselves symbolize his different sins.
1. There is irony in the fact that Prospero gets locked into the abbey, is that the abbey is a place to confess all of your sins and do without sin. While Prospero is a constant sinner who cant live without sinning.
2. The author describes him as “happy and dauntless and sagacious,” when really he is not. He thinks he is happy but he is unhappy while constantly sinning.
3. Prince Prospero’s name truly has nothing to do with who he is. He is not prosperous at all. That is true irony.
Prince
Prospero is cowardly and not courageous. He is a prince, but he is careless and
simple. His friends are fair weathered friends, who are selfish and want to
party but don’t realize that they are going to die.