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The Mystery Of Marie Roget By Edgar Allan Poe
PAGE: 1

                   THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET.{*1}

             A SEQUEL TO "THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE."


Es giebt eine Reihe idealischer Begebenheiten, die der Wirklichkeit
parallel lauft. Selten fallen sie zusammen. Menschen und zufalle
modifieiren gewohulich die idealische Begebenheit, so dass sie
unvollkommen erscheint, und ihre Folgen gleichfalls unvollkommen
sind. So bei der Reformation; statt des Protestantismus kam das
Lutherthum hervor.

There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real
ones. They rarely coincide. Men and circumstances generally modify
the ideal train of events, so that it seems imperfect, and its
consequences are equally imperfect. Thus with the Reformation;
instead of Protestantism came Lutheranism.

                   - Novalis. {*2} Moral Ansichten.

THERE are few persons, even among the calmest thinkers, who have not
occasionally been startled into a vague yet thrilling half-credence
in the supernatural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvellous a
character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect has been unable
to receive them. Such sentiments - for the half-credences of which I
speak have never the full force of thought - such sentiments are
seldom thoroughly stifled unless by reference to the doctrine of
chance, or, as it is technically termed, the Calculus of
Probabilities. Now this Calculus is, in its essence, purely
mathematical; and thus we have the anomaly of the most rigidly exact
in science applied to the shadow and spirituality of the most
intangible in speculation.

The extraordinary details which I am now called upon to make public,
will be found to form, as regards sequence of time, the primary
branch of a series of scarcely intelligible coincidences, whose
secondary or concluding branch will be recognized by all readers in
the late murder of Mary Cecila Rogers, at New York.

When, in an article entitled "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," I
endeavored, about a year ago, to depict some very remarkable features
in the mental character of my friend, the Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin,
it did not occur to me that I should ever resume the subject. This
depicting of character constituted my design; and this design was
thoroughly fulfilled in the wild train of circumstances brought to
instance Dupin's idiosyncrasy. I might have adduced other examples,
but I should have proven no more. Late events, however, in their
surprising development, have startled me into some farther details,
which will carry with them the air of extorted confession. Hearing
what I have lately heard, it would be indeed strange should I remain
silent in regard to what I both heard and saw so long ago.

Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in the deaths of Madame
L'Espanaye and her daughter, the Chevalier dismissed the affair at
once from his attention, and relapsed into his old habits of moody
reverie. Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I readily fell in with
his humor; and, continuing to occupy our chambers in the Faubourg
Saint Germain, we gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered
tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into
dreams.

But these dreams were not altogether uninterrupted. It may readily be
supposed that the part played by my friend, in the drama at the Rue
Morgue, had not failed of its impression upon the fancies of the
Parisian police. With its emissaries, the name of Dupin had grown
into a household word. The simple character of those inductions by
which he had disentangled the mystery never having been explained
even to the Prefect, or to any other individual than myself, of
course it is not surprising that the affair was regarded as little
less than miraculous, or that the Chevalier's analytical abilities
acquired for him the credit of intuition. His frankness would have
led him to disabuse every inquirer of such prejudice; but his
indolent humor forbade all farther agitation of a topic whose
interest to himself had long ceased. It thus happened that he found
himself the cynosure of the policial eyes; and the cases were not few
in which attempt was made to engage his services at the Prefecture.
One of the most remarkable instances was that of the murder of a
young girl named Marie Rogêt.

This event occurred about two years after the atrocity in the Rue
Morgue. Marie, whose Christian and family name will at once arrest
attention from their resemblance to those of the unfortunate "cigar-
girl," was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Rogêt. The father
had died during the child's infancy, and from the period of his
death, until within eighteen months before the assassination which
forms the subject of our narrative, the mother and daughter had dwelt
together in the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée; {*3} Madame there keeping a
pension, assisted by Marie. Affairs went on thus until the latter had
attained her twenty-second year, when her great beauty attracted the
notice of a perfumer, who occupied one of the shops in the basement
of the Palais Royal, and whose custom lay chiefly among the desperate
adventurers infesting that neighborhood. Monsieur Le Blanc {*4} was
not unaware of the advantages to be derived from the attendance of
the fair Marie in his perfumery; and his liberal proposals were
accepted eagerly by the girl, although with somewhat more of
hesitation by Madame.

The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized, and his rooms soon
became notorious through the charms of the sprightly grisette. She
had been in his employ about a year, when her admirers were thrown
info confusion by her sudden disappearance from the shop. Monsieur Le
Blanc was unable to account for her absence, and Madame Rogêt was
distracted with anxiety and terror. The public papers immediately
took up the theme, and the police were upon the point of making
serious investigations, when, one fine morning, after the lapse of a
week, Marie, in good health, but with a somewhat saddened air, made
her re-appearance at her usual counter in the perfumery. All inquiry,
except that of a private character, was of course immediately hushed.
Monsieur Le Blanc professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with
Madame, replied to all questions, that the last week had been spent
at the house of a relation in the country. Thus the affair died away,
and was generally forgotten; for the girl, ostensibly to relieve
herself from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final adieu
to the perfumer, and sought the shelter of her mother's residence in
the Rue Pavée Saint Andrée.

It was about five months after this return home, that her friends
were alarmed by her sudden disappearance for the second time. Three
days elapsed, and nothing was heard of her. On the fourth her corpse
was found floating in the Seine, * near the shore which is opposite
the Quartier of the Rue Saint Andree, and at a point not very far
distant from the secluded neighborhood of the Barrière du Roule. {*6}

The atrocity of this murder, (for it was at once evident that murder
had been committed,) the youth and beauty of the victim, and, above
all, her previous notoriety, conspired to produce intense excitement
in the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call to mind no
similar occurrence producing so general and so intense an effect. For
several weeks, in the discussion of this one absorbing theme, even
the momentous political topics of the day were forgotten. The Prefect
made unusual exertions; and the powers of the whole Parisian police
were, of course, tasked to the utmost extent.

Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not supposed that the
murderer would be able to elude, for more than a very brief period,
the inquisition which was immediately set on foot. It was not until
the expiration of a week that it was deemed necessary to offer a
reward; and even then this reward was limited to a thousand francs.
In the mean time the investigation proceeded with vigor, if not
always with judgment, and numerous individuals were examined to no
purpose; while, owing to the continual absence of all clue to the
mystery, the popular excitement greatly increased. At the end of the
tenth day it was thought advisable to double the sum originally
proposed; and, at length, the second week having elapsed without
leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice which always exists in
Paris against the Police having given vent to itself in several
serious émeutes, the Prefect took it upon himself to offer the sum of
twenty thousand francs "for the conviction of the assassin," or, if
more than one should prove to have been implicated, "for the
conviction of any one of the assassins." In the proclamation setting
forth this reward, a full pardon was promised to any accomplice who
should come forward in evidence against his fellow; and to the whole
was appended, wherever it appeared, the private placard of a
committee of citizens, offering ten thousand francs, in addition to
the amount proposed by the Prefecture. The entire reward thus stood
at no less than thirty thousand francs, which will be regarded as an
extraordinary sum when we consider the humble condition of the girl,
and the great frequency, in large cities, of such atrocities as the
one described.

No one doubted now that the mystery of this murder would be
immediately brought to light. But although, in one or two instances,
arrests were made which promised elucidation, yet nothing was
elicited which could implicate the parties suspected; and they were
discharged forthwith. Strange as it may appear, the third week from
the discovery of the body had passed, and passed without any light
being thrown upon the subject, before even a rumor of the events
which had so agitated the public mind, reached the ears of Dupin and
myself. Engaged in researches which absorbed our whole attention, it
had been nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad, or
received a visiter, or more than glanced at the leading political
articles in one of the daily papers. The first intelligence of the
murder was brought us by G ----, in person. He called upon us early
in the afternoon of the thirteenth of July, 18--, and remained with
us until late in the night. He had been piqued by the failure of all
his endeavors to ferret out the assassins. His reputation - so he
said with a peculiarly Parisian air - was at stake. Even his honor
was concerned. The eyes of the public were upon him; and there was
really no sacrifice which he would not be willing to make for the
development of the mystery. He concluded a somewhat droll speech with
a compliment upon what he was pleased to term the tact of Dupin, and
made him a direct, and certainly a liberal proposition, the precise
nature of which I do not feel myself at liberty to disclose, but
which has no bearing upon the proper subject of my narrative.

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