by Edgar Allan Poe - published in The Gift, 1845
Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio.
At Paris just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of 18 -- , I was enjoying the twofold luxury
of meditation and a meerschaum, in company with my friend, C. Auguste Dupin, in his little back
library, or book-closet, au troisième, No. 33 Rue Dunôt, Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we
had maintained a profound silence; while each, to any casual observer, might have seemed intently and
exclusively occupied with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber.
For myself, however, I was mentally discussing certain topics which had formed matter for
conversation between us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the affair of the Rue Morgue, and
the mystery attending the murder of Marie Rogêt. I looked upon it, therefore, as something of a
coincidence, when the door of our apartment was thrown open and admitted our old acquaintance, Monsieur G -- -- , the Prefect of the Parisian police.
We gave him a hearty welcome; for there was nearly half as much of the entertaining as of the contemptible about the man, and we had not seen him for several years. We had been sitting in the
dark, and Dupin now arose for the purpose of lighting a lamp, but sat down again, without doing so,
upon G.'s saying that he had called to consult us, or rather to ask the opinion of my friend, about some
official business which had occasioned a great deal of trouble.
"If it is any point requiring reflection," observed Dupin, as he forbore to enkindle the wick, "we shall
examine it to better purpose in the dark."
"That is another one of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had the fashion of calling everything
"odd" that was beyond his comprehension, and thus lived amid an absolute legion of "oddities."
"Very true," said Dupin, as he supplied his visitor with a pipe, and rolled toward him a comfortable
"And what is the difficulty now?" I asked. "Nothing more in the assassination way I hope?"
"Oh, no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt
that we can manage it sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought Dupin would like to hear the details
of it because it is so excessively odd."
"Simple and odd," said Dupin.
"Why, yes; and not exactly that either. The fact is, we have all been a good deal puzzled because the
affair is so simple, and yet baffles us altogether."
"Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which puts you at fault," said my friend.
"What nonsense you do talk!" replied the Prefect, laughing heartily.
"Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain," said Dupin.
"Oh, good heavens! who ever heard of such an idea?"
"A little too self-evident."
"Ha! ha! ha! - ha! ha! ha! - ho! ho! ho!" roared our visitor, profoundly amused, "oh, Dupin, you will
be the death of me yet!"
"And what, after all, is the matter on hand?" I asked.
"Why, I will tell you," replied the Prefect, as he gave a long, steady, and contemplative puff, and
settled himself in his chair. "I will tell you in a few words; but, before I begin, let me
caution you that this is an affair demanding the greatest secrecy, and that I should most probably lose
the position I now hold, were it known that I confided it to any one."
"Proceed," said I.
"Or not," said Dupin.
"Well, then; I have received personal information, from a very high quarter, that a certain document
of the last importance has been purloined from the royal apartments. The individual who purloined it is
known; that beyond a doubt; he was seen to take it. It is known also, that it still remains in his
"How is this known?" asked Dupin.
"It is clearly inferred," replied the Prefect, "from the nature of the document, and from the
non-appearance of certain results which would at once arise from its passing out of the robber's
possession -- that is to say, from his employing it as he must design in the end to employ it."
"Be a little more explicit," I said.
"Well, I may venture so far as to say that the paper gives its holder a certain power in a certain
quarter where such power is immensely valuable." The Prefect was fond of the cant of diplomacy.
"Still I do not quite understand," said Dupin.
"No? Well; the disclosure of the document to a third person, who shall be nameless, would bring in
question the honor of a personage of most exalted station; and this fact gives the holder of the
document an ascendancy over the illustrious personage whose honor and peace are so jeopardized."
"But this ascendancy," I interposed, "would depend upon the robber's knowledge of the loser's
knowledge of the robber. Who would dare - "
"The thief," said G., "is the Minister D - - , who dares all things, those unbecoming as well as those
becoming a man. The method of the theft was not less ingenious than bold. The document in question - a letter, to be frank -- had been received by the personage robbed while alone in the royal boudoir.
During its perusal she was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the other exalted personage from
whom especially it was her wish to conceal it. After a hurried and vain endeavor to thrust it in a
drawer, she was forced to place it, open it was, upon a table. The address, however, was uppermost,
and, the contents thus unexposed, the letter escaped notice. At this juncture enters the Minister D - - .
His lynx eye immediately perceives the paper, recognizes the handwriting of the address, observes the confusion of the personage addressed, and fathoms her secret. After some business transactions, hurried through in his ordinary manner, he produces a letter somewhat similar to the one in question, opens it, pretends to read it, and then places it in close juxtaposition to the other. Again he converses, for some fifteen minutes, upon the public affairs. At length, in taking leave, he takes also from the table the letter to which he has no claim. Its rightful owner saw, but, of course, dared not call attention to the act, in the presence of the third person who stood at her elbow. The minister decamped; leaving his own letter - of no importance - upon the table."
"Here, then," said Dupin to me, "you have precisely what you demand to make the ascendancy
complete - the robber's knowledge of the loser's knowledge of the robber."
"Yes," replied the Prefect; "and the power thus attained has, for some months past, been wielded, for
political purposes, to a very dangerous extent. The personage robbed is more thoroughly convinced,
every day, of the necessity of reclaiming her letter. But this, of course, cannot be done openly. In fine,
driven to despair, she has committed the matter to me."
"Than whom," said Dupin, amid a perfect whirlwind of smoke, "no more sagacious agent could, I
suppose, be desired, or even imagined."
"You flatter me," replied the Prefect; "but it is possible that some such opinion may have been
"It is clear," said I, "as you observe, that the letter is still in the possession of the minister; since it is
this possession, and not any employment of the letter, which bestows the power. With the employment
the power departs."
"True," said G.; "and upon this conviction I proceeded. My first care was to make a thorough search
of the minister's hotel; and here my chief embarrassment lay in the necessity of searching without his
knowledge. Beyond all things, I have been warned of the danger which would result from giving him
reason to suspect our design."
"But," said I, "you are quite au fait in these investigations. The Parisian police have done this thing
"Oh, yes; and for this reason I did not despair. The habits of the minister gave me, too, a great
advantage. He is frequently absent from home all night. His servants are no means numerous. They
sleep at a distance from their master's apartment, and, being chiefly Neapolitans, are readily made
drunk. I have keys, as you know, with which I can open any chamber or cabinet in Paris. For three
months a night has not passed, during the greater part of which I have not been engaged, personally, in
ransacking the D - - Hotel. My honor is interested, and, to mention a great secret, the reward is
enormous. So I did not abandon the search until I had become fully satisfied that the thief is a more
astute man than myself. I fancy that I have investigated every nook and corner of the premises in
which it is possible that the paper can be concealed."
"But is it not possible," I suggested, "that although the letter may be in possession of the minister, as it
unquestionably is, he may have concealed it elsewhere than upon his own premises?"
"This is barely possible," said Dupin. "The present peculiar condition of affairs at court, and especially
of those intrigues in which D - - is known to be involved, would render the instant availability of the
document - its susceptibility of being produced at a moments notice - a point of nearly equal
importance with its possession."
"Its susceptibility of being produced?" said I.
"That is to say, of being destroyed," said Dupin.
"True," I observed; "the paper is clearly then upon the premises. As for its being upon the person of
the minister, we may consider that as out of the question."
"Entirely," said the Prefect. "He has been twice waylaid, as if by footpads, and his person rigidly
searched for my own inspection."
"You might have spared yourself this trouble," said Dupin. "D - - , I presume, is not altogether a
fool, and, if not, must have anticipated these waylayings, as a matter of course."
"Not altogether a fool," said G., "but then he is a poet, which I take to be only one removed from a
"True," said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful whiff from his meerschaum, "although I have been
guilty of certain doggerel myself."
"Suppose you detail," said I, "the particulars of your search."
"Why, the fact is, we took our time, and we searched everywhere. I have had long experience in
these affairs. I took the entire building, room by room; devoting the nights of a whole week to each. We
examined, first the furniture of each apartment. We opened every possible drawer; and I presume you
know that, to a properly trained police-agent, such a thing as a 'secret' drawer is impossible. Any man is
a dolt who permits a 'secret' drawer to escape him in a search of this kind. The thing is so plain. There
is a certain amount of bulk - of space - to be accounted for in every cabinet. Then we have accurate
rules. The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. After the cabinets we took the chairs. The
cushions we probed with the fine long needles you have seen me employ. From the tables we removed
"Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly arranged piece of furniture, is removed by the person
wishing to conceal an article; then the leg is excavated, the article deposited within the cavity, and the
top replaced. The bottoms and tops of bedposts are employed in the same way."
"But could not the cavity be detected by sounding?" I asked.
"By no means, if, when the article is deposited, a sufficient wadding of cotton be placed around it.
Besides, in our case, we were obliged to proceed without noise."
"But you could not have removed - you could not have taken to pieces all articles of furniture in
which it would have been possible to make a deposit in the manner you mention. A letter may be
compressed into a thin spiral roll, not differing much in shape or bulk from a large knitting-needle, and in this form it might be inserted into the rung of a chair, for example. You did not take to pieces all the
"Certainly not; but we did better - we examined the rungs of every chair in the hotel, and, indeed, the
jointings of every description of furniture, by the aid of a most powerful microscope. Had there been
any traces of recent disturbance we should not have failed to detect it instantly. A single grain of
gimlet-dust, for example, would have been as obvious as an apple. Any disorder in the gluing - any
unusual gap in the joints - would have sufficed to insure detection."
"I presume you looked to the mirrors, between the boards and the plates, and you probed the beds
and the bedclothes, as well as the curtains and carpets."
"That of course; and when we had absolutely completed every particle of the furniture in this way,
then we examined the house itself. We divided its entire surface into compartments, which we
numbered, so that none might be missed; then we scrutinized each individual square inch throughout the
premises, including the two houses immediately adjoining, with the microscope, as before."
"The two houses adjoining!" I exclaimed; "you must have had a great deal of trouble."
"We had; but the reward offered is prodigious."
"You included the grounds about the houses?"
"All the grounds are paved with brick. They give us comparatively little trouble. We examined the
moss between the bricks, and found it undisturbed."
"You looked among D - - 's papers, of course, and into the books of the library?"
"Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we not only opened every book, but we turned over
every leaf in each volume, not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion of
some of our police officers. We also measured the thickness of every book-cover, with the most
accurate admeasurement, and applied to each the most jealous scrutiny of the microscope. Had any of
the bindings been recently meddled with, it would have been utterly impossible that the fact should have
escaped observation. Some five or six volumes, just from the hands of the binder, we carefully probed,
longitudinally, with the needles."
"You explored the floors beneath the carpets?"
"Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and examined the boards with the microscope."
"And the paper on the walls?"
"You looked into the cellars?"
"Then," I said, "you have been making a miscalculation, and the letter is not upon the premises, as you
"I fear you are right there," said the Prefect. "And now, Dupin, what would you advise me to do?"
"To make a thorough research of the premises."
"That is absolutely needless," replied G - - . "I am not more sure that I breathe than I am that the
letter is not at the hotel."
"I have no better advice to give you," said Dupin. "You have, of course, an accurate description of the
"Oh, yes!" - And here the Prefect, producing a memorandum-book, proceeded to read aloud a
minute account of the internal, and especially of the external, appearance of the missing document.
Soon after finishing the perusal of this description, he took his departure, more entirely depressed in spirits than I have ever known the good gentleman before.
In about a month afterward he paid another visit, and found us occupied very nearly as before. He
took a pipe and a chair and entered into some ordinary conversation. At length I said:
"Well, but G., what of the purloined letter? I presume you have at last made up your mind that there is
no such thing as overreaching the Minister?"
"Confound him, say I - yes; I made the re-examination, however, as Dupin suggested --but it was all
labor lost, as I knew it would be."
"How much was the reward offered, did you say?" asked Dupin.
"Why, a very great deal - a very liberal reward - I don't like to say how much precisely; but one
thing I will say, that I wouldn't mind giving my individual check for fifty thousand francs to any one who could obtain me that letter. The fact is, it is becoming of more and more importance every day; and the
reward has been lately doubled. If it were trebled, however, I could do no more than I have done."
"Why, yes," said Dupin, drawlingly, between the whiffs of his meerschaum, "I really - think, G., you
have not exerted yourself - to the utmost in the matter. You might - do a little more, I think, eh?"
"How? -- in what way?"
"Why - puff, puff - you might - puff, puff - employ counsel in the matter, eh? - puff, puff, puff.
Do you remember the story they tell of Abernethy?"
"No; hang Abernethy!"
"To be sure! hang him and welcome. But, once upon a time, a certain rich miser conceived the design
of spunging upon this Abernethy for a medical opinion. Getting up, for this purpose, an ordinary
conversation in a private company, he insinuated his case to the physician, as that of an imaginary
"'We will suppose,' said the miser, 'that his symptoms are such and such; now, doctor, what would
you have directed him to take?'
"'Take!' said Abernethy, 'why, take advice, to be sure.'"
"But," said the Prefect, a little discomposed, "I am perfectly willing to take advice, and to pay for it. I
would really give fifty thousand francs to any one who would aid me in the matter."
"In that case," replied Dupin, opening a drawer, and producing a check-book, "you may as well fill me
up a check for the amount mentioned. When you have signed it, I will hand you the letter."
I was astonished. The Prefect appeared absolutely thunder-stricken. For some minutes he remained
speechless and motionless, looking incredulously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that seemed
startling from their sockets; then apparently recovering himself in some measure, he seized a pen, and
after several pauses and vacant stares, finally filled up and signed a check for fifty thousand francs, and
handed it across the table to Dupin. The latter examined it carefully and deposited it in his pocket-book;
then, unlocking an escritoire, took thence a letter and gave it to the Prefect. This functionary grasped it
in a perfect agony of joy, opened it with a trembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents, and then,
scrambling and struggling to the door, rushed at length unceremoniously from the room and from the
house, without having uttered a syllable since Dupin had requested him to fill up the check.
When he had gone, my friend entered into some explanations.
"The Parisian police," he said, "are exceedingly able in their way. They are persevering, ingenious,
cunning, and thoroughly versed in the knowledge which their duties seem chiefly to demand. Thus,
when G - - detailed to us his mode of searching the premises at the Hotel D - - , I felt entire
confidence in his having made a satisfactory investigation - so far as his labors extended."
"So far as his labors extended?" said I.
"Yes," said Dupin. "The measures adopted were not only the best of their kind, but carried out to
absolute perfection. Had the letter been deposited within the range of their search, these fellows would,
beyond a question, have found it."
I merely laughed - but he seemed quite serious in all that he said.
"The measures, then," he continued, "were good in their kind, and well executed; their defect lay in
their being inapplicable to the case and to the man. A certain set of highly ingenious resources are, with
the Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed, to which he forcibly adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs
by being too deep or too shallow for the matter in hand; and many a school-boy is a better reasoner
than he. I knew one about eight years of age, whose success at guessing in the game of 'even and odd'
attracted universal admiration. This game is simple, and is played with marbles. One player holds in his hand a number of these toys, and demands of another whether that number is even or odd. If the guess is right, the guesser wins one; if wrong, he loses one. The boy to whom I allude won all the marbles of the school. Of course he had some principle of guessing; and this lay in mere observation and admeasurement of the astuteness of his opponents. For example, an arrant simpleton is his opponent, and, holding up his closed hand, asks, 'Are they even or odd?' Our school-boy replies, 'Odd,' and loses; but upon the second trial he wins, for he then says to himself: 'The simpleton had them even upon the first trial, and his amount of cunning is just sufficient to make him have them odd upon the second; I will therefore guess odd'; - he guesses odd and wins.
Now, with a simpleton a degree above the first, he would have reasoned thus: 'This fellow finds that in
the first instance I guessed odd, and, in the second, he will propose to himself, upon the first impulse, a
simple variation from even to odd, as did the first simpleton; but then a second thought will suggest that
this is too simple a variation, and finally he will decide upon putting it even as before. I will therefore
guess even'; - he guesses even, and wins. Now this mode of reasoning in the school-boy, whom his
fellows termed 'lucky,' - what, in its last analysis, is it?"
"It is merely," I said, "an identification of the reasoner's intellect with that of his opponent."
"It is," said Dupin; "and, upon inquiring of the boy by what means he effected the thorough
identification in which his success consisted, I received answer as follows: 'When I wish to find out
how wise, or how stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one, or what are his thoughts at the
moment, I fashion the expression of my face, as accurately as possible, in accordance with the
expression of his, and then wait to see what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind or heart, as if to
match or correspond with the expression.' This response of the school-boy lies at the bottom of all the
spurious profundity which has been attributed to Rochefoucault, to La Bougive, to Machiavelli, and to Campanella."
"And the identification," I said, "of the reasoner's intellect with that of his opponent, depends, if I
understand you aright, upon the accuracy with which the opponent's intellect is admeasured."
"For its practical value it depends upon this," replied Dupin; "and the Prefect and his cohort fail so
frequently, first, by default of this identification, and, secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather through non-admeasurement, of the intellect with which they are engaged. They consider only their own ideas of ingenuity; and, in searching for any thing hidden, advert only to the modes in which they would have hidden it. They are right in this much - that their own ingenuity is a faithful representative of that of the mass; but when the cunning of the individual felon is diverse in character from their own, the felon foils them, of course. This always happens when it is above their own, and very usually when it is below. They have no variation of principle in their investigations; at best, when urged by some unusual emergency - by some extraordinary reward - they extend or exaggerate their old modes of practice, without touching their principles. What, for example, in this case of D - - , has been done to vary the principle of action? What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, and scrutinizing with the microscope, and dividing the surface of the building into registered square inches - what is it all but an exaggeration of the application of the one principle or set of principles of search, which are based upon the one set of notions regarding human ingenuity, to which the Prefect, in the long routine of his duty, has been accustomed? Do you not see he has taken it for granted that all men proceed to conceal a letter, not exactly in a gimlet-hole bored in a chair-leg, but, at least, in some out-of-the-way hole or corner
suggested by the same tenor of thought which would urge a man to secrete a letter in a gimlet-hole
bored in a chair-leg? And do you not see also, that such recherchés nooks for concealment are adapted
only for ordinary occasions, and would be adopted by ordinary intellects; for, in all cases of
concealment, a disposal of the article concealed - a disposal in this recherché manner, - is, in the very
first instance, presumable and presumed; and thus its discovery depends, not at all upon the acumen, but
altogether upon the mere care, patience, and determination of the seekers; and where the case is of
importance - or, what amounts to the same thing in the political eyes, when the reward is of magnitude,
- the qualities in question have never been known to fail You will now understand what I mean in
suggesting that, had the purloined letter been hidden anywhere within the limits of the Prefect's
examination - in other words, had the principle of its concealment been comprehended within the
principles of the Prefect - its discovery would have been a matter altogether beyond question. This
functionary, however, has been thoroughly mystified; and the remote source of his defeat lies in the supposition that the Minister is a fool, because he has acquired renown as a poet. All fools are poets; this the Prefect feels; and he is merely guilty of a non distributio medii in thence inferring that all poets are fools."
"But is this really the poet?" I asked. "There are two brothers, I know; and both have attained
reputation in letters. The minister I believe has written learnedly on the Differential Calculus. He is a
mathematician, and no poet."
"You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason
well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all, and thus would have been at the
mercy of the Prefect."
"You surprise me," I said, "by these opinions, which have been contradicted by the voice of the world.
You do not mean to set at naught the well-digested ideas of centuries. The mathematical reason has
long been regarded as the reason par excellence."
"'Il y a à parier,'" replied Dupin, quoting from Chamfort, "'que toute idée publique, toute convention reçue, est une sottise, cor elle a convenue au plus grand nombre.' The mathematicians, I grant you, have done their best to promulgate the popular error to which you allude, and which is none the less an error for its promulgation as truth. With an art worthy a better cause, for example, they have insinuated the term 'analysis' into application to algebra. The French are the originators of this particular deception; but if a term is of any importance - if words derive any value from applicability - then 'analysis' conveys 'algebra' about as much as, in Latin, 'ambitus' implies 'ambition,' 'religio' 'religion,' or 'homines honesti' a set of honorable men."
"You have a quarrel on hand, I see," said I, "with some of the algebraists of Paris; but proceed."
Proceed!: The Purloined Letter II