The Murders in the Rue Morgue | Page 8

been cut with some very sharp
instrument - probably with a razor.
"Alexandre Etienne, surgeon, was called with M. Dumas to view the
bodies. Corroborated the testimony, and the opinions of M. Dumas.
"Nothing farther of importance was elicited, although several other
persons were examined. A murder so mysterious, and so perplexing in
all its particulars, was never before committed in Paris - if indeed a
murder has been committed at all. The police are entirely at fault - an
unusual occurrence in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the

shadow of a clew apparent."
The evening edition of the paper stated that the greatest excitement still
continued in the Quartier St. Roch - that the premises in question had
been carefully re-searched, and fresh examinations of witnesses
instituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, however, mentioned that
Adolphe Le Bon had been arrested and imprisoned - although nothing
appeared to criminate him, beyond the facts already detailed.
Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress of this affair -- at
least so I judged from his manner, for he made no comments. It was
only after the announcement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that he
asked me my opinion respecting the murders.
I could merely agree with all Paris in considering them an insoluble
mystery. I saw no means by which it would be possible to trace the
murderer.
"We must not judge of the means," said Dupin, "by this shell of an
examination. The Parisian police, so much extolled for acumen, are
cunning, but no more. There is no method in their proceedings, beyond
the method of the moment. They make a vast parade of measures; but,
not unfrequently, these are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to
put us in mind of Monsieur Jourdain's calling for his robe-de-chambre -
pour mieux entendre la musique. The results attained by them are not
unfrequently surprising, but, for the most part, are brought about by
simple diligence and activity. When these qualities are unavailing, their
schemes fail. Vidocq, for example, was a good guesser and a
persevering man. But, without educated thought, he erred continually
by the very intensity of his investigations. He impaired his vision by
holding the object too close. He might see, perhaps, one or two points
with unusual clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of the
matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as being too profound.
Truth is not always in a well. In fact, as regards the more important
knowledge, I do believe that she is invariably superficial. The depth
lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain-tops
where she is found. The modes and sources of this kind of error are
well typified in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To look at a

star by glances - to view it in a side-long way, by turning toward it the
exterior portions of the retina (more susceptible of feeble impressions
of light than the interior), is to behold the star distinctly - is to have the
best appreciation of its lustre - a lustre which grows dim just in
proportion as we turn our vision fully upon it. A greater number of rays
actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in the former, there is
the more refined capacity for comprehension. By undue profundity we
perplex and enfeeble thought; and it is possible to make even Venus
herself vanish from the firmanent by a scrutiny too sustained, too
concentrated, or too direct.
"As for these murders, let us enter into some examinations for
ourselves, before we make up an opinion respecting them. An inquiry
will afford us amusement," [I thought this an odd term, so applied, but
said nothing] "and, besides, Le Bon once rendered me a service for
which I am not ungrateful. We will go and see the premises with our
own eyes. I know G----, the Prefect of Police, and shall have no
difficulty in obtaining the necessary permission."
The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue
Morgue. This is one of those miserable thoroughfares which intervene
between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in the
afternoon when we reached it; as this quarter is at a great distance from
that in which we resided. The house was readily found; for there were
still many persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an objectless
curiosity, from the opposite side of the way. It was an ordinary Parisian
house, with a gateway, on one side of which was a glazed watch-box,
with a sliding panel in the window, indicating a loge de concierge.
Before going in we walked up the street, turned down an