 The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Feather by Edgar Allen Poe. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Greg Marguerite. The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Feather by Edgar Allen Poe. During the autumn of 1845, while on tour through the extreme southern provinces of France, my route led me within a few miles of a certain Maison de Santis, or private madhouse, about which I had heard much in Paris from my medical friends. As I had never visited a place of the kind, I thought the opportunity too good to be lost, and so proposed to my traveling companion, a gentleman with whom I had made casual acquaintance a few days before, that we should turn aside for an hour or so and look through the establishment. To this he objected, pleading haste in the first place and, in the second, a very usual horror at the sight of a lunatic. He begged me, however, not to let any mere courtesy towards himself interfere with the gratification of my curiosity, and said that he would ride on leisurely so that I might overtake him during the day or at all events during the next. As he bade me goodbye, I bethought me that there might be some difficulty in obtaining access to the premises, and mentioned my fears on this point. He replied that, in fact, unless I had personal knowledge of the superintendent, Monsieur Maillard, or some credential in the way of a letter, a difficulty might be found to exist as the regulations of these private madhouses were more rigid than the public hospital laws. For himself he added, he had some years since made the acquaintance of Maillard, and would so far assist me as to ride up to the door and introduce me, although his feelings on the subject of lunacy would not permit of his entering the house. I thanked him, and turning from the main road we entered a grass-grown bypass which, in half an hour, nearly lost itself in a dense forest, clothing the base of a mountain. Through this dark and gloomy wood we rode some two miles, when the Maison de Santis came in view. It was a fantastic chateau, much dilapidated, and indeed scarcely tenantable through age and neglect. Its aspect inspired me with absolute dread, and, checking my horse, I half resolved to turn back. I soon, however, grew ashamed of my weakness and proceeded. As we rode up to the gateway I perceived it slightly open, and the visage of a man peering through. In an instant afterward this man came forth, accosted my companion by name, shook him cordially by the hand, and begged him to alight. It was Monsieur Maillard himself. He was a portly fine-looking gentleman of the old school, with a polished manner and a certain air of gravity, dignity, and authority, which was very impressive. My friend, having presented me, mentioned my desire to inspect the establishment, and received Monsieur Maillard's assurance that he would show me all attention. Now took leave, and I saw him no more. When he had gone the superintendent ushered me into a small and exceedingly neat parlor, containing, among other indications of refined taste, many books, drawings, pots of flowers, and musical instruments. A cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth. At a piano singing an aria from Bellini sat a young and very beautiful woman, who, at my entrance, paused in her song and received me with graceful courtesy. Her voice was low, and her whole manner subdued. I thought, too, that I perceived the traces of sorrow in her countenance, which was excessively, although, to my tastes, not unpleasantly pale. She was attired in deep mourning and excited in my bosom a feeling of mingled respect, interest, and admiration. I had heard at Paris that the institution of Monsieur Maillard was managed upon what is vulgarly termed the system of soothing, that all punishments were avoided, that even confinement was seldom resorted to, that the patients, while secretly watched, were left much apparent liberty, and that most of them were permitted to roam about the house and grounds in the ordinary apparel of persons in the right mind. Keeping these impressions in view, I was cautious in what I said before the young lady, for I could not be sure that she was sane, and, in fact, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes which half led me to imagine she was not. I confined my remarks, therefore, to general topics, and to such as I thought would not be displeasing or exciting even to a lunatic. She replied in a perfectly rational manner to all that I said, and even her original observations were marked with the soundest good sense, but a long acquaintance with the metaphysics of mania had taught me to put no faith in such evidence of sanity, and I continued to practice throughout the interview the caution with which I commenced it. Presently a smart footman in livery brought in a tray with fruit, wine, and other refreshments of which I partook, the lady soon afterward leaving the room. As she departed I turned my eyes in an inquiring manner toward my host. No, he said, oh no, a member of the family, my niece, and a most accomplished woman. I beg a thousand pardons for the suspicion, I replied, but of course you will know how to excuse me. The excellent administration of your affairs here is well understood in Paris, and I thought it just possible, you know. Yes, yes, say no more, or rather it is myself who should thank you for the commendable prudence you have displayed. We seldom find so much of forethought in young men, and more than once some unhappy contra-tempts has occurred in consequence of thoughtlessness on the part of our visitors. While my former system was in operation and my patients were permitted the privilege of roaming to and fro at will, they were often aroused to a dangerous frenzy by injudicious persons who called to inspect the house. Hence I was obliged to enforce a rigid system of exclusion, and none obtained access to the premises upon whose discretion I could not rely. While your former system was in operation, I said, repeating his words, do I understand you then to say that the soothing system of which I have heard so much is no longer in force? It is now, he replied, several weeks since we have concluded to renounce it forever. Indeed, you astonished me. We found it, sir, he said, with a sigh, absolutely necessary to return to the old usages. The danger of the soothing system was at all times appalling, and its advantages have been much overrated. I believe, sir, that in this house it has been given a fair trial if ever in any. We did everything that rational humanity could suggest. I am sorry that you could not have paid us a visit at an earlier period that you might have judged for yourself, but I presume you are conversant with the soothing practice, with its details. Not altogether what I have heard has been at third or fourth hand. I may state the system then in general terms, as one in which the patients were, may nudge, humored. We contradicted no fancies which entered the brains of the mad. On the contrary, we not only indulged but encouraged them, and many of our most permanent cures have been thus affected. There is no argument which so touches the feeble reason of the madman as the argumentum ad absurdum. We have had men, for example, who fancied themselves chickens. The cure was to insist upon the thing as a fact, to accuse the patient of stupidity and not sufficiently perceiving it to be a fact, and thus to refuse him any other diet for a week than that which properly appertains to a chicken. In this manner a little corn and gravel were made to perform wonders. But was this species of acquiescence all? By no means. We put much faith in amusements of a simple kind, such as music, dancing, gymnastic exercises generally, cards, certain classes of books, and so forth. We affected to treat each individual as if for some ordinary physical disorder, and the word lunacy was never employed. A great point was to set each lunatic to guard the actions of all the others. To repose confidence in the understanding or discretion of a madman is to gain him, body and soul. In this way we were enabled to dispense with an expensive body of keepers. And you had no punishments of any kind? None. And you never confined your patience? Very rarely. But now and then the malady of some individual growing to a crisis or taking a sudden turn of fury we conveyed him to a secret cell lest his disorder should infect the rest, and there keep him until we could dismiss him to his friends. For with the raging maniac we have nothing to do. He is usually removed to the public hospitals. And you have now changed all this, and you think for the better? Decidedly the system had its disadvantages and even its dangers. It is now happily exploded throughout all the Maison de Saint-Tilles of France. I am very much surprised, I said, at what you tell me, for I made sure that at this moment no other method of treatment for mania existed in any portion of the country. You are young yet, my friend, replied my host, but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world without trusting to the gossip of others. Believe nothing you hear and only one half that you see. Now, about our Maison de Saint-Tilles, it is clear that some ignoramus has misled you. After dinner, however, when you have sufficiently recovered from the fatigue of your ride, I will be happy to take you over the house and introduce you to a system which, in my opinion, and in that of everyone who has witnessed its operation, is incomparably the most effectual as yet devised. Your own, I inquired, one of your own invention? I am proud, he replied, to acknowledge that it is, at least in some measure. In this manner I conversed with Monsieur Mallard for an hour or two, during which he showed me the gardens and conservatories of the place. I cannot let you see my patience, he said, just at present. To a sensitive mind there is always more or less of the shocking in such exhibitions, and I do not wish to spoil your appetite for dinner. We will dine. I can give you some viol à la minot, with cauliflower and valouté sauce. After that a glass of clove de vouset, then your nerves will be sufficiently steadied. At six, dinner was announced, and my host conducted me into a large salet à manger where a very numerous company were assembled, twenty-five or thirty and all. They were apparently people of rank, certainly of high breeding, although there are hablements I thought were extravagantly rich, partaking somewhat too much of the ostentatious finery of the viol cor. I noticed that at least two-thirds of these guests were ladies, and some of the latter were by no means accoutre d in what a Parisian would consider good taste at the present day. Many females, for example, whose age could not have been less than seventy, were bedecked with a profusion of jewelry, such as rings, bracelets, and earrings, and wore their bosoms and arms shamefully bare. I observed, too, that very few of the dresses were well made, or at least that very few of them fitted the wearers. In looking about I discovered the interesting girl to whom Monsieur Malard had presented me in the little parlor. But my surprise was great to see her wearing a hoop and farthing-gale with high-heeled shoes and a dirty cap of Brussels lace, so much too large for her that it gave her face a ridiculously diminutive expression. When I had first seen her she was attired most becomingly in deep mourning. There was an air of oddity in short about the dress of the whole party, which at first caused me to recur to my original idea of the soothing system, and to fancy that Monsieur Malard had been unwilling to deceive me until after dinner that I might experience no uncomfortable feelings during the repast at finding myself dining with lunatics. But I remembered having been informed in Paris that the southern provincialists were a peculiarly eccentric people, with a vast number of antiquated notions, and then, too, upon conversing with several members of the company, my apprehensions were immediately and fully dispelled. The dining-room itself, although perhaps sufficiently comfortable and of good dimensions, had nothing too much of elegance about it. For example, the floor was uncarpeted. In France, however, a carpet is frequently dispensed with. The windows, too, were without curtains. The shutters being shut were securely fastened with iron bars applied diagonally after the fashion of our ordinary shop shutters. The apartment I observed formed in itself a wing of the chateau, and thus the windows were on three sides of the parallelogram, the door being at the other. There were no less than ten windows in all. The table was superbly set out. It was loaded with plate and more than loaded with delicacies. The profusion was absolutely barbaric. There were meats enough to have feasted the anachem. Never in all my life had I witnessed so lavish, so wasteful an expenditure of the good things of life. There seemed very little taste, however, in the arrangements, and my eyes accustomed to quiet lights were sadly offended by the prodigious glare of a multitude of wax candles, which, in silver candelabra, were deposited upon the table and all about the room wherever it was possible to find a place. There were several active servants in attendance, and upon a large table at the farther end of the apartment were seated seven or eight people with fiddles, fives, trombones, and a drum. These fellows annoyed me very much at intervals during the repast by an infinite variety of noises which were intended for music and which appeared to afford much entertainment to all present, with the exception of myself. Upon the whole I could not help thinking that there was much of the bizarre about everything I saw. But then the world is made up of all kinds of persons with all modes of thought and all sorts of conventional customs. I had traveled, too, so much as to be quite an adept at the nil admirari, so I took my seat very coolly at the right hand of my host, and, having an excellent appetite, did justice to the good cheers set before me. The conversation in the meantime was spirited and general. The ladies, as usual, talked a great deal. I soon found that nearly all the company were well educated, and my host was a world of good-humored anecdotes in himself. He seemed quite willing to speak of his position as superintendent of a messon de santé, and, indeed, the topic of lunacy was, much to my surprise, a favorite one with all present. A great many amusing stories were told, having referenced to the whims of the patients. We had a fellow here once, said a fat little gentleman who sat at my right, a fellow that fancied himself a teapot. And, by the way, is it not especially singular how often this particular crochet has entered the brain of the lunatic? There is scarcely an insane asylum in France which cannot supply a human teapot. Our gentleman was a Britannia-ware teapot, and was careful to polish himself every morning with buckskin and whiting. And then, said a tall man just opposite, we had here not long ago a person who had taken it into his head that he was a donkey, which, allegorically speaking, you will say was quite true. He was a troublesome patient, and we had much adieu to keep him within bounds. For a long time he would eat nothing but thistles, but of this idea we soon cured him by insisting upon his eating nothing else. Then he was perpetually kicking out his heels, so so. Mr. Dick Cock, I will thank you to behave yourself. Here interrupted an old lady who sat next to the speaker. Please keep your feet to yourself. You have spoiled my brocade. Is it necessary, pray, to illustrate a remark with so practical a style? Our friend here can surely comprehend you without all this. Upon my word you are nearly as great a donkey as the poor unfortunate imagined himself. Your acting is very natural, as I live. Milpardon, Mamzell, replied Mr. Dickock. Thus addressed, a thousand pardons I had no intention of offending. Mamzell la placer, Mr. Dickock will do himself the honor of taking wine with you. Here Mr. Dickock bowed low, kissed his hand with much ceremony, and took wine with Mamzell la placer. Allow me, mon ami. Now, said Mr. Malard, addressing myself, allow me to send you a morsel of this vial a la sé menu. You will find it particularly fine. At this instant three sturdy waiters had just succeeded in depositing safely upon the table an enormous dish or trencher, containing what I supposed to be the monstrum horrendum informe ingens cuae lumen ademptum. A closer scrutiny assured me, however, that it was only a small calf roasted whole and set upon its knees with an apple in its mouth, as is the English fashion of dressing a hair. Ah, thank you. No, I replied, to say the truth. I am not particularly partial to vial a la sé, what is it? For I do not find that it altogether agrees with me. I will change my plate, however, and try some of the rabbit. There were several side dishes on the table containing what appeared to be the ordinary French rabbit, a very delicious morceau which I can recommend. Pierre cried the host, change this gentleman's plate and give him a side-piece of this rabbit-o-shot. This what, I said? This rabbit-o-shot. Why, ah, thank you, upon second thoughts no, I will just help myself to some of the ham. There is no knowing what one eats, thought I to myself at the tables of these people of the province. I will have none of their rabbit-o-shot, and for the matter of that none of their cat o' rabbit either. And then said a cadaverous looking personage near the foot of the table, taking up the thread of the conversation where it had been broken off. And then, among other oddities, we had a patient once upon a time who very pertinaciously maintained himself to be a Cordova cheese and went about with a knife in his hand, soliciting his friends to try a small slice from the middle of his leg. He was a great fool beyond doubt, interposed someone, but not to be compared with a certain individual whom we all know, with the exception of this strange gentleman. I mean the man who took himself for a bottle of champagne and always went off with a pop and a fizz in this fashion. Here the speaker very rudely as I thought put his right thumb in his left cheek, withdrew it with a sound resembling the popping of a cork, and then by a dexterous movement of the tongue upon the teeth created a sharp hissing and fizzing which lasted for several minutes in imitation of the frothing champagne. This behavior I saw plainly was not very pleasing to Monsieur Malard, but that gentleman said nothing and the conversation was resumed by a very lean little man in a big wig. And then there was an ignoramus said he who mistook himself for a frog, which, by the way, he resembled in no little degree. I wish you could have seen him, sir. Here the speaker addressed myself. It would have done your heart good to see the natural airs that he put on. Sir, if that man was not a frog, I can only observe that it is a pity he was not. His croak thus, oog, oog, was the finest note in the world. Be flat! And when he put his elbows upon the table thus, after taking a glass or two of wine, and distended his mouth thus, and rolled up his eyes thus, and winked them with excessive rapidity thus. Why, then, sir, I take it upon myself to say positively that you would have been lost in adoration of the genius of the man. I have no doubt of it, I said. And then said somebody else. Then there was Petit Galard who thought himself a pinch of snuff, and was truly distressed because he could not take himself between his own finger and thumb. And then there was Jules Desolais, who was a very singular genius indeed, and went mad with the idea that he was a pumpkin. He persecuted the cook to make him up into pies, a thing which the cook indignantly refused to do. For my part I am by no means sure that a pumpkin pie à la Desolais would not have been very capital eating indeed. You astonish me, said I, and I looked inquisitively at Monsieur Malard. Ha, ha, ha, said that gentleman. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Very good indeed. You must not be astonished, Mona, may our friend here is a wit, a droll. You must not understand him to the letter. And then, said some other one of the party, then there was Bouffan Legrand, another extraordinary personage in his way. He grew deranged through love and fancied himself possessed of two heads. One of these he maintained to be the head of Cicero. The other he imagined a composite one, being Demosthenes from the top of the far head to the mouth, and Lord Bromes from the mouth to the chin. It is not impossible that he was wrong, but he would have convinced you of his being in the right, for he was a man of great eloquence. He had an absolute passion for oratory and could not refrain from display. For example, he used to leap upon the dinner table thus, and, and here a friend at the side of the speaker put a hand upon his shoulder and whispered a few words in his ear, upon which he ceased talking with great suddenness and sank back within his chair. And then, said the friend who had whispered, there was Boullard, the teetotem. I call him the teetotem because in fact he was seized with the droll, but not altogether a rational crochet that he had been converted into a teetotem. You would have roared with laughter to see him spin. He would turn round upon one heel by the hour, in this manner. So here the friend whom he had just interrupted by a whisper performed an exactly similar office for himself. But then cried the old lady at the top of her voice. Your Monsieur Boullard was a madman, and a very silly madman at best, for who allow me to ask you ever heard of a human teetotem? The thing is absurd. Madame Joyeuse was a more sensible person as you know. She had a crochet, but it was instinct with common sense, and gave pleasure to all who had the honor of her acquaintance. She found upon mature deliberation that by some accident she had been turned into a chicken cock. But as such she behaved with propriety. She flapped her wings with prodigious effect. So, so, and as for her crow, it was delicious. Cac-ca-doodle-doo! Cac-ca-doodle-doo! Madame Joyeuse, I will thank you to behave yourself. Here interrupted our host very angrily. You can either conduct yourself as a lady should do, or you can quit the table forthwith. Take your choice. The lady whom I was much astonished to hear addressed as Madame Joyeuse, after the description of Madame Joyeuse she had just given, blushed up to the eyebrows and seemed exceedingly abashed at the reproof. She hung down her head and said not a syllable in reply, but another and younger lady resumed the theme. It was my beautiful girl of the little parlor. Oh, Madame Joyeuse was a fool, she exclaimed. But there was really much sound sense, after all, in the opinion of Eugenia Salsafe. She was a very beautiful and painfully modest young lady who thought the ordinary mode of hablemint indecent, and wished to dress herself always by getting outside instead of inside her clothes. It is a thing very easily done, after all. You have only to do so, and then so, so, so, and then so, so, so, and then so, so, and then mon dieu mademoiselle Salsafe. Here cried a dozen voices at once. What are you about? Forbear. That is sufficient. We see very plainly how it is done. Hold, hold. And several persons were already leaping from their seats to withhold mademoiselle Salsafe from putting herself upon a par with the Medician Venus. When the point was very effectually and suddenly accomplished by a series of loud screams or yells from some portion of the main body of the chateau, my nerves were very much affected indeed by these yells, but the rest of the company I really pitied. I never saw any set of reasonable people so thoroughly frightened in my life. They all grew as pale as so many corpses, and shrinking within their seats sat quivering and gibbering with terror and listening for a repetition of the sound. It came again, louder and seemingly nearer. And then a third time, very loud, and then a fourth time, with a vigor evidently diminished. At this apparent dying away of the noise the spirits of the company were immediately regained and all was life and anecdote as before. I now ventured to inquire the cause of the disturbance. A mere bagatelle said, Mr. Malard, we are used to these things and care really very little about them. The lunatics every now and then get up a howl in concert, one starting another as is sometimes the case with a bevy of dogs at night. It occasionally happens, however, that the concerto yells are succeeded by a simultaneous effort at breaking loose when, of course, some little danger is to be apprehended. And how many have you in charge? At present we have not more than ten altogether. Principally females, I presume. Oh, no! Every one of the men and stout fellows too, I can tell you. Indeed, I have always understood that the majority of lunatics were of the gentler sex. It is generally so, but not always. Some time ago there were about twenty-seven patients here, and of that number no less than eighteen were women, but lately matters have changed very much as you see. Yes, have changed very much as you see. Here interrupted the gentleman who had broken the shins of Mademoiselle Laplace. Yes, have changed very much as you see. Chimed in the whole company at once. Hold your tongues, every one of you, said my host in a great rage, whereupon the whole company maintained a dead silence for nearly a minute. As for one lady, she obeyed Monsieur Marlard to the letter, and thrusting out her tongue, which was an excessively long one, held it resignedly with both hands until the end of the entertainment. And this gentle woman said aye to Monsieur Marlard, bending over and addressing him in a whisper. This good lady, who has just spoken and who gives us the caca-doodle-de-doo, she, I presume, is harmless, quite harmless, eh? Harmless, ejaculated he in unfeigned surprise. Why, why, what can you mean? Only slightly touched, said I, touching my head. I take it for granted that she is not particularly not dangerously affected, eh? Monde d'eux, what is it you imagine? This lady, my particular old friend, Madame Joyous, is as absolutely sane as myself. She has her little eccentricities to be sure, but then, you know, all old women, all very old women, are more or less eccentric. To be sure, said I, to be sure, and then the rest of these ladies and gentlemen? Are my friends and keepers interrupted, Monsieur Marlard drawing himself up with hot air? My very good friends and assistants. What, all of them I ask to the women and all? Assuredly, he said, we could not do at all without the women. They are the best lunatic nurses in the world. They have a way of their own, you know. Their bright eyes have a marvelous effect. Something like the fascination of the snake, you know. To be sure, said I, to be sure. They behave a little odd, eh? They are a little queer, eh? Don't you think so? Odd? Queer? Why, do you really think so? We are not very prudish to be sure here in the south. Do pretty much as we please. Enjoy life and all that sort of thing, you know. To be sure, said I, to be sure. And then, perhaps this clo de vuze is a little heady, you know, a little strong. You understand, eh? To be sure, said I, to be sure. By the by, Monsieur, did I understand you to say that the system you have adopted in place of the celebrated soothing system was one of very rigorous severity? By no means. Our confinement is necessarily close. But the treatment, the medical treatment, I mean, is rather agreeable to the patients than otherwise. And the new system is one of your own invention? Not altogether. Some portions of it are referable to Professor Tarr of whom you have necessarily heard. And again, there are modifications in my plan which I am happy to acknowledge as belonging of right to the celebrated feather, with whom, if I mistake not, you have the honor of an intimate acquaintance. I am quite ashamed to confess, I replied, that I have never even heard the names of either gentlemen before. Good heavens ejaculated my host drawing back his chair abruptly and uplifting his hands. I surely do not hear you a right. You did not intend to say, eh, that you had never heard either of the learned Dr. Tarr or the celebrated Professor Feather? I am forced to acknowledge my ignorance, I replied. But the truth should be held inviolate above all things. Nevertheless, I feel humbled to the dust not to be acquainted with the works of these no doubt extraordinary men. I will seek out their writings forthwith and peruse them with deliberate care. Monsieur Maillard, you have really—I must confess it—you have really made me ashamed of myself. And this was the fact. Say no more, my good young friend, he said kindly, pressing my hand. Join me now in a glass of sautern. We drank. The company followed our example without stint. They chatted, they gested, they laughed, they perpetrated a thousand absurdities. The fiddles shrieked, the drum rodee-dow'd, the trombones bellow'd like so many brazen bulls of phalaris. And the whole scene growing gradually worse and worse as the wines gained the ascendancy became at length a sort of pandemonium in petto. In the meantime, Monsieur Maillard and myself, with some bottles of sautern and vuzo between us, continued our conversation at the top of the voice. A word spoken in an ordinary quay stood no more chance of being heard than the voice of a fish from the bottom of Niagara Falls. And sir, said I, screaming in his ear, you mentioned something before dinner about the danger incurred in the old system of soothing. How is that? Yes, he replied, there was occasionally very great danger indeed. There is no accounting for the caprices of madmen. And in my opinion, as well as in that of Dr. Tarr and Professor Feather, it is never safe to permit them to run at large unattended. A lunatic may be soothed as it is called for a time, but in the end he is very apt to become obstreperous. His cunning, too, is proverbial and great. If he has a project in view, he conceals his design with a marvelous wisdom. And the dexterity with which he counterfeits sanity presents to the metaphysician one of the most singular problems in the study of mind. When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straitjacket. But the danger, my dear sir, of which you were speaking in your own experience, during your control of this house, have you had practical reason to think liberty hazardous in the case of a lunatic? Here, in my own experience, why, I may say yes. For example, no very long while ago a singular circumstance occurred in this very house. The soothing system you know was then in operation and the patients were at large. They behaved remarkably well, especially so any one of sense might have known that some devilish scheme was brewing from that particular fact, that the fellows behaved so remarkably well. And sure enough, one fine morning the keepers found themselves pinioned hand and foot and thrown into the cells where they were attended, as if they were the lunatics by the lunatics themselves who had usurped the offices of the keepers. You don't tell me so. I never heard of anything so absurd in my life. Fact! It all came to pass by means of a stupid fellow, a lunatic, who by some means had taken it into his head that he had invented a better system of government than any ever heard of before, of lunatic government, I mean. He wished to give his invention a trial, I suppose, and so he persuaded the rest of the patients to join him in a conspiracy for the overthrow of the reigning powers. And he really succeeded? No doubt of it. The keepers and kept were soon made to exchange places. Not that exactly either, for the madmen had been free, but the keepers were shut up in cells forthwith and treated, I am sorry to say, in a very cavalier manner. But I presume a counterrevolution was soon affected. This condition of things could not have long existed. The country people in the neighborhood, visitors coming to see the establishment, would have given the alarm. There you are out. The head rebel was too cunning for that. He admitted no visitors at all, with the exception of, one day, a very stupid-looking young gentleman of whom he had no reason to be afraid. He let him in to see the place, just by way of variety, to have a little fun with him. As soon as he had gammoned him sufficiently, he let him out and sent him about his business. And how long did the madman reign? Oh, a very long time indeed, a month, certainly. How much longer I can't precisely say. In the meantime, the lunatics had a jolly season of it, that you may swear. They doffed their own shabby clothes and made free with the family wardrobe and jewels. The sellers of the chateau were well stocked with wine, and these madmen are just the devils that know how to drink it. They lived well, I can tell you. And the treatment? What was the particular species of treatment which the leader of the rebels put into operation? Why, as for that, a madman is not necessarily a fool, as I have already observed. And it is my honest opinion that his treatment was a much better treatment than that which it superseded. It was a very capital system indeed. Simple. Neat. No trouble at all. In fact, it was delicious, it was. Here my hosts' observations were cut short by another series of yells of the same character as those which had previously disconcerted us. This time, however, they seemed to proceed from persons rapidly approaching. Gracious heavens, I ejaculated, the lunatics have most undoubtedly broken loose. I very much fear it is so, replied Monsieur Marlard, now becoming excessively pale. He had scarcely finished the sentence before loud shouts and imprecations were heard beneath the window, and immediately afterward it became evident that some persons outside were endeavoring to gain entrance into the room. The door was beaten with what appeared to be a sledgehammer, and the shutters were wrenched and shaken with prodigious violence. A scene of the most terrible confusion ensued. Monsieur Marlard, to my excessive astonishment, threw himself under the sideboard. I had expected more resolution at his hands. The members of the orchestra who, for the last fifteen minutes, had been seemingly too much intoxicated to do duty, now sprang all at once to their feet and to their instruments, and scrambling upon their table broke out with one accord into Yankee Doodle, which they performed, if not exactly in tune, at least with an energy superhuman during the whole of the uproar. Meantime, upon the main dining table, among the bottles and glasses leaped the gentlemen who, with such difficulty, had been restrained from leaping there before. As soon as he fairly settled himself, he commenced an oration which, no doubt, was a very capital one, if it could only have been heard. At the same moment, the man with the teetotem predilection set himself to spinning around the apartment with immense energy and with arms outstretched at right angles with his body, so that he had all the air of a teetotem in fact, and knocked everybody down that happened to get in his way. And now, too, hearing an incredible popping and fizzing of champagne, I discovered at length that it proceeded from the person who performed the bottle of that delicate drink during dinner. And then again, the frog-man croaked away as if the salvation of his soul depended upon every note that he uttered. And in the midst of all this, the continuous bragging of a donkey arose overall. As for my old friend, Madame Joyous, I really could have wept for the poor lady. She appeared so terribly perplexed, all she did, however, was to stand up in a corner by the fireplace and sing out incessantly at the top of her voice, cock-a-doodle-doo. And now came the climax, the catastrophe of the drama. As no resistance beyond whooping and yelling and cock-a-doodling was offered to the encroachments of the party without, the ten windows were very speedily and almost simultaneously broken in. But I shall never forget the emotions of wonder and horror with which I gazed when leaping through these windows and down among us pal-mell, fighting, stamping, scratching and howling, there rushed a perfect army of what I took to be chimpanzees, orangutans, or big black baboons of the Cape of Good Hope. I received a terrible beating, after which I rolled under a sofa and lay still. After lying there some fifteen minutes, during which time I listened with all my ears to what was going on in the room, I came to same satisfactory denouement of this tragedy. Monsieur Maillard, it appeared in giving me the account of the lunatic who had excited his fellows to rebellion, had been merely relating his own exploits. This gentleman had indeed some two or three years before been the superintendent of the establishment, but grew crazy himself and so became a patient. This fact was unknown to the traveling companion who introduced me. The keepers, ten in number, having been suddenly overpowered, were first well tarred, then carefully feathered, and then shut up in underground cells. They had been so imprisoned for more than a month, during which period Monsieur Maillard had generously allowed them not only the tar and feathers, which constituted his system, but some bread and abundance of water. The latter was pumped on them daily. At length, one escaping through a sewer gave freedom to all the rest. The soothing system with important modifications has been resumed at the chateau, yet I cannot help agreeing with Monsieur Maillard that his own treatment was a very capital one of its kind. As he justly observed it was simple, neat, and gave no trouble at all, not the least. I have only to add that although I have searched every library in Europe for the works of Dr. Tarr and Professor Feather, I have, up to the present day, utterly failed in my endeavors at procuring an addition. End of The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Feather by Edgar Allen Poe. Tuba Maury, by Saki. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Tuba Maury. It was a chill, rainwashed afternoon of a late August day, that indefinite season when partridges are still in security or cold storage, and there is nothing to hunt, unless one is bounded on the north by the Bristol Channel, in which case one may lawfully gallop after fat red stags. Lady Blemley's house party was not bounded on the north by the Bristol Channel, hence there was a full gathering of her guests round the tea-table on this particular afternoon. And in spite of the blankness of the season and the triteness of the occasion, there was no trace in the company of that fatigued restlessness, which means a dread of the pianola and a subdued hankering for auction bridge. The undisguised, open-mouthed attention of the entire party was fixed on the homely negative personality of Mr Cornelius Appin. Of all her guests, he was the one who had come to Lady Blemley with the vaguest reputation. Someone had said he was clever, and that he had got his invitation in the modest expectation on the part of his hostess, that some portion at least of his cleverness would be contributed to the general entertainment. Until tea-time that day she had been unable to discover in what direction, if any, his cleverness lay. He was neither a wit nor a croquet champion, a hypnotic force, nor a begetter of amateur theatricals. Neither did his exterior suggest the sort of man in whom women are willing to pardon a generous measure of mental deficiency. He had subsided into mere Mr Appin, and the Cornelius seemed a piece of transparent, baptismal bluff. And now he was claiming to have launched on the world a discovery beside which the invention of gunpowder, of the printing press and of steam locomotion, were inconsiderable trifles. Science had made bewildering strides in many directions during recent decades, but this thing seemed to belong to the domain of miracle, rather than to scientific achievement. And do you really ask us to believe, so Wilfred was saying, that you have discovered a means for instructing animals in the art of human speech, and that dear old Tobermory has proved your first successful pupil. It is a problem at which I have worked for the last 17 years, said Mr Appin, but only during the last eight or nine months have I been rewarded with glimmerings of success. Of course I have experimented with thousands of animals, but latterly only with cats, those wonderful creatures which have assimilated themselves so marvelously with our civilization, while retaining all their highly developed feral instincts. Here and there among cats one comes across an outstanding superior intellect, just as one does among the ruck of human beings. And when I made the acquaintance of Tobermory a week ago, I saw at once that I was in contact with a beyond cat of extraordinary intelligence. I had gone far along the road to success in recent experiments. With Tobermory, as you call him, I have reached the goal. Mr Appin concluded his remarkable statement in a voice which he strove to divest of a triumphant inflection. No one said rats, though Clovis's lips moved in a monosyllabic contortion, which probably invoked those rodents of disbelief. And do you mean to say, asked Miss Reska, after a slight pause, that you have toward Tobermory to say and understand easy sentences of one syllable? My dear Miss Reska, said the wonder worker patiently, one teaches little children and savages and backward adults in that piecemeal fashion. When one has once solved the problem of making a beginning with an animal of highly developed intelligence, one has no need for those halting methods. Tobermory can speak our language with perfect correctness. This time Clovis very distinctly said beyond rats. So Wilfred was more polite but equally skeptical. Hadn't we better have the cat in and judge for ourselves? suggested Lady Blemley. So Wilfred went in search of the animal, and the company settled themselves down to the languid expectation of witnessing some more or less adroit drawing-room ventriloquism. In a minute, so Wilfred was back in the room, his face white beneath its tan, and his eyes dilated with excitement. My good, it's true! His agitation was unmistakably genuine, and his hearers started forward in a thrill of awakened interest. Collapsing into an armchair, he continued breathlessly. I found him dozing in the smoking-room, and called out to him to come for his tea. He blinked at me in his usual way, and I said, Come on, Toby, don't keep us waiting. And by God, he drawled out in a most horribly natural voice that he'd come when he dashed well pleased, and nearly jumped out of my skin. Appin had preached to absolutely incredulous hearers. So Wilfred's statement carried instant conviction. A babel-like chorus of startled exclamation arose, amid which the scientist sat, mutely enjoying the first fruit of his stupendous discovery. In the midst of the clamour, Tobem oriented the room, and made his way with velvet tread, and studied unconcern across to the group seated round the tea-table. A sudden hush of awkwardness and constraint fell on the company. Somehow there seemed an element of embarrassment in addressing, on equal terms, a domestic cat of acknowledged dental ability. Will you have some milk, Tobemory? asked Lady Blemley in a rather strained voice. I don't mind, if I do, was the response couched in a tone of even indifference, a shiver of suppressed excitement went through the listeners, and Lady Blemley might be excused for pouring out the sauceful of milk, rather unsteadyly. I'm afraid I've spilled a good deal of it, she said apologetically. After all, it's not my ax-minster, was Tobemory's rejoinder. Another silence fell on the group, and then Miss Reska in her best district visitor manner asked if the human language had been difficult to learn. Tobemory looked squarely at her for a moment, and then fixed his gaze serenely on the middle distance. It was obvious that boring questions lay outside his scheme of life. What do you think of human intelligence? asked Mavis Pellington, lamely, of whose intelligence in particular, asked Tobemory coldly. Oh, well, mine, for instance, said Mavis, with a feeble laugh. You put me in an embarrassing position, said Tobemory, whose tone and attitude certainly did not suggest a shred of embarrassment. When your inclusion in this house-party was suggested, Sir Wilfred protested that you were the most brainless woman of his acquaintance, and that there was a wide distinction between hospitality and the care of the feeble-minded. Lady Blemley replied that your lack of brain power was the precise quality which had earned you your invitation, as you were the only person she could think of who might be idiotic enough to buy their old car. You know the one they call the envy of Sisyphus, because it goes quite nicely uphill if you push it. Lady Blemley's protestations would have had greater effect if she had not casually suggested to Mavis only that morning, that the car in question would be just the thing for her down at her Devonshire home. Major Barfield plunged in heavily to effect a diversion. How about your carrying on with the tortoise-shell-puss up the stables, eh? The moment he had said it, everyone realised the blunder. One does not usually discuss these matters in public, said Tobemory frigidly. From a slight observation of your ways, since you've been in this house, I should imagine you'd find it inconvenient if I were to shift the conversation onto your own little affairs. The panic which ensued was not confined to the Major. Would you like to go and see if Cook has got your dinner ready? suggested Lady Blemley hurriedly, affecting to ignore the fact that it wanted at least two hours to Tobemory's dinner time. Thanks, said Tobemory. Not quite so soon after my tea. I don't want to die of indigestion. Cats have nine lives, you know her, said Sir Wilfred Hartley. Possibly answered Tobemory, but only one liver. Adelaide, said Mrs. Cornette. Do you mean to encourage that cat to go out and gossip about us in the servants' hall? The panic had indeed become general, and narrow ornamental balustrade ran in front of most of the bedroom windows at the towers, and it was recalled with dismay that this had formed a favourite promenade for Tobemory at all hours, whence he could watch the pigeons and heaven knew what else besides. If he intended to become reminiscent in his present outspoken strain, the effect would be something more than disconcerting. Mrs. Cornette, who spent much time at her toilet table, and whose complexion was reputed to be of a nomadic, though punctual disposition, looked as ill at ease as the major. Miss Scrawen, who wrote fiercely sensuous poetry, and led a blameless life, merely displayed irritation. If you are methodical and virtuous in private, you don't necessarily want everyone to know it. Bertie Vantan, who was so depraved at seventeen that he had long ago given up trying to be any worse, turned a dull shade of gardenia white. But he did not commit the error of dashing out of the room, like Odo Finsbury, a young gentleman who was understood to be reading for the church, and who was possibly disturbed at the thought of scandals he might hear concerning other people. Clovis had the presence of mind to maintain a composed exterior, privately he was calculating how long it would take to procure a box of fancy mice through the agency of the exchange and mart as a species of hush money. Even in a delicate situation like the present, Agnes Resca could not endure to remain too long in the background. Why did I ever come down here? She asked dramatically. Tober Mori immediately accepted the opening, judging by what you said to Mrs. Cornette on the croquet lawn yesterday. You were out for food. You described the Blemleys as the dullest people to stay with that you knew, but said that they were clever enough to employ a first-rate cook, otherwise they'd find it difficult to get anyone to come down a second time. There's not a word of truth in it. I appealed to Mrs. Cornette, exclaimed the discomforted Agnes. Mrs. Cornette repeated your remark afterwards to Bertie Vantan, continued Tober Mori. And said, That woman is a regular hunger-marcher. She'd go anywhere for four square meals a day. And Bertie Vantan said, At this point the chronicle mercifully ceased. Tober Mori had caught a glimpse of the big yellow tom from the rectory, working his way through the shrubbery towards the stable wing. In a flash he had vanished through the open French window. With the disappearance of his two brilliant pupil, Cornelius Appin found himself beset by a hurricane of bitter up-braiding, anxious inquiry, and frightened in treaty. The responsibility for the situation lay with him, and he must prevent matters from becoming worse. Could Tober Mori impart his dangerous gift to other cats? Was the first question he had to answer? It was possible, he replied, that he might have initiated his intimate friend the stable-pus into his new accomplishment. But it was unlikely that his teaching could have taken a wider range as yet. Then, said Mrs Cornet, Tober Mori may be a valuable cat and a great pet, but I'm sure you'll agree, Adelaide, that both he and the stable cat must be done away with, without delay. You don't suppose I've enjoyed the last quarter of an hour, do you? said Lady Blemley, bitterly. My husband and I are very fond of Tober Mori. At least we were before this horrible accomplishment was infused into him. But now, of course, the only thing is to have him destroyed as soon as possible. We can put some strickeene in the scraps he always gets at dinner time, said Sir Wilfred, and I will go and drown the stable cat myself. The coachman will be very sore at losing his pet, but I'll say a very catching form of mange has broken out in both cats, and we're afraid of it spreading to the kennels. But my great discovery, expostulated Mr Appin, after all my years of research and experiment, you can go and experiment on the short horns at the farm who are under proper control, said Mrs Cornette, or the elephants at the zoological gardens. They are said to be highly intelligent, and they have this recommendation, that they don't come creepy about her bedrooms under chairs and so forth. An archangel ecstatically proclaiming the millennium, and then finding that it clashed unpardonably with Henley, and would have to be indefinitely postponed, could hardly have felt more crestfallen than Cornelius Appin, at the reception of his wonderful achievement. Public opinion, however, was against him. In fact, had the general voice been consulted on the subject, it is probable that a strong minority vote would have been in favour of including him in the strickeene diet. Defective train arrangements, and a nervous desire to see matters brought to a finish, prevented an immediate dispersal of the party, but dinner that evening was not a social success. Sir Wilfred had had rather a trying time with the stable cat, and subsequently with the coachman. Agnes Reska ostentatiously limited her repast to a morsel of dry toast, which she bit as though it were a personal enemy, while Mavis Pellington maintained a vindictive silence throughout the meal. Lady Blemley kept up a flow of what she hoped was conversation, but her attention was fixed on the doorway. A plateful of carefully dosed fish scraps was in readiness on the sideboard, but sweets and savoury and dessert went their way, and no Tobermory appeared either in the dining-room or kitchen. The sepulchral dinner was cheerful compared with the subsequent vigil in the smoking-room. Eating and drinking had at least supplied a distraction and cloak to the prevailing embarrassment. Bridge was out of the question in the general tension of nerves and tempers, and after Odo Finsbury had given a legubrious rendering of melissande in the wood to a frigid audience, music was tacitly avoided. At eleven, the servants went to bed, announcing that the small window in the pantry had been left open, as usual, for Tobermory's private use. The guests read steadily through the current batch of magazines, and fell back gradually on the badminton library and bound volumes of punch. Lady Blemley made periodic visits to the pantry, returning each time with an expression of listless depression, which forestalled questioning. At two o'clock Clovis broke the dominating silence. He won't turn up tonight. He's probably in the local newspaper office at the present moment dictating the first instalment of his reminiscences. Lady Watson's book won't be in it. It will be the event of the day. Having made this contribution to the general cheerfulness, Clovis went to bed. At long intervals, the various members of the house party followed his example. The servants, taking round the early tea, made a uniform announcement in reply to a uniform question. Tobermory had not returned. Breakfast was, if anything, a more unpleasant function than dinner had been. But before its conclusion the situation was relieved. Tobermory's corpse was brought in from the shrubbery, where a gardener had just discovered it. From the bites on his throat and the yellow fur which coated his claws, it was evident that he had fallen in unequal combat with the big Tom from the rectory. By midday most of the guests had quitted the towers, and after lunch Lady Blemley had sufficiently recovered her spirits to write an extremely nasty letter to the rectory about the loss of her valuable pet. Tobermory had been Appin's one successful pupil, and he was destined to have no successor. A few weeks later an elephant in the Dresden Zoological Garden, which had shown no previous signs of irritability, broke loose and killed an Englishman who had apparently been teasing it. The victim's name was variously reported in the papers as Opin and Epilin, but his front name was faithfully rendered Cornelius. If he was trying German irregular verbs on the poor beast, said Clovis, he deserved all he got. End of Tobermory by Sarky, read by Peter Yersley