The Cask of Amontillado
by
Edgar Allan Poe
Lecture notes by Brian C. McDonald, modified by Helen Schwartz
The "Cask of Amontillado" is about Montresor, an obviously mad aristocrat who has a connoisseur's taste in wine--and revenge. Poe's plot is the way he constructs the story; Montresor's is the scheme to rid himself of an old rival in a brilliantly plotted and flawlessly executed revenge.
Consider the Recipe for a "Perfect Plot" he following might be a good recipe. Begin with a clearly identified protagonist and antagonist. Out of the tension between them, develop a conflict so serious that it must end in the death of one of them. During the rising action, increase suspense by making the antagonist wholly unaware of the malice of the protagonist. Let every word of the protagonist be a clear warning of his deadly intent--if only his antagonist has ears to hear the "double meanings" so artfully concealed by the protagonist' use of irony. Let the climax of the story be the antagonist's recognition of his opponent's deadly intentions at the precise moment it is too late for him to do anything about it. Then let the falling action proceed to the denouement at just the right pace, not so fast that it spoils your wish for an unhurried enjoyment of the resolution, nor so slows that it seems to drag its way to the finish line.
You will also want to season well with the right dashes of setting and character. You will want to make sure that the story takes place in a time, place, and general atmosphere which seems consistent with the actions which take place and involves characters who you might expect to find in that setting and whose actions seem perfect to cause the events of the plot.
Put this all together and you get Poe's "Cask of Amontillado" in which the brooding, vengeful, yet cultivated aristocrat Montresor plans out a method of revenge against his rival Fortunato which is carried out in the setting of a dank, winding, labyrinthine vault perfectly appropriate to the gothic scheme of revenge invented by a this very believably characterized madman.
II. Montresor's Perfect Scheme
A. Motive for Revenge. We learn right at the beginning that both the character of the first person narrator and the action of the story are going to be propelled by revenge stirred up by an unspecified insult. The story opens with lines as intense and powerful as they are brief and unspecific: "The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had born as best as I could, but when he ventured on insult, I vowed revenge" (1146). As brief as they are, these lines carry both a revelation of Montresor's character (What type of person can bear with 'injury" but must avenge an "insult"?) and the seeds of the storyline to follow (it's clearly going to evolve into a plan of revenge.)
The story's condensed and concentrated opening lines also raise some tantalizing, and important questions which the story never really gets around to answering.
· Who is Fortunato and what exactly has he done which merits the deadly vendetta Montresor has in store for him (we find out little about the first question and none about the second.)
· Who is the main character and what are his life's circumstances? (We learn later that his name is Montresor and that he once had been "happy." Why he is currently unhappy, and other rather important matters (like what country, and century this is taking place in!) are never really answered.
· Who is the person he is speaking to? Montresor addresses him as one "who know[s] me so well," but we as readers are not going to get to know this mysterious figure at all! Is he an old friend? A priest to whom he is making confession? Even a doctor or an attendant in an insane asylum? We never find out.
Curiously enough, because we are told so little about its cause, the sheer motivating fact of the insult requiring revenge stands out all that much more clearly as the story moves quickly to is climax and resolution.
B. The Specifications for Revenge. Almost like a connoisseur specifying the requirements of a perfect dinner, Montresor lays out the qualities of a truly superb revenge, one which can be enjoyed and savored like a fine wine: "I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong" (70).
C. The Opportunity for Revenge. In finding opportunities for revenge, Montresor is both active and passive.
1. He waits for an opportunity making sure that "neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will…and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation" (70)
2. He takes note of a weakness Fortunato is famous for: his "connoisseurship of good wines," a fact Montresor freely acknowledges--and turns to his advantage--though Montresor "like his countrymen is a quack" in matters such as art (70). Since this offhanded reference speaks of "his" nationality, we remain ignorant of Montresor's and hence the certain locale of the action. A later reference to one "Luchesi" and to the carnival season, makes the presumption of an Italian setting a good one.
3. He seizes an opportunity. At the "supreme madness of the carnival season," Montresor bumps into Fortunato and since both he and his rival (and everybody else) are masked and anonymous, this provides an opportunity for spiriting Fortunato away from the crowd with no one the wiser.
He seizes this opportunity in an almost literal way by seizing Fortunato himself, "so pleased to see him that I thought I should never have done shaking his hand." This joyful and opportune meeting marks the first of many examples of dramatic irony in the story as Fortunato misinterprets Montresor's very obvious pleasure in meeting him as an expression of regard rather than an excited anticipation of revenge.. Safe in his very certain and gloating knowledge that Fortunato will not "get it," he uses a certain "cask of Amontillado" as the bait to lure Fortunato into the carefully prepared trap.
D. Carrying out of Revenge.
1. Some "Switches" in the story. As we switch from the abstract world of plotting and brooding into the concrete world of action and result, the story itself undergoes a couple of "switches."
· A switch from the outdoor world of the noisy carnival celebration, to the indoor world of the Montresor catacombs.
· A switch in narrative style and detail. The "above ground" portion of the story abounds in minimalist description. We receive little or no information about Fortunato's insult, Montresor's circumstances, or the crowds, noise, and madness which must certainly accompany Carnival's "madness." But once Fortunato accept the fatal invitation and heads underground the narrator starts loading us down with description. The narrator paints vivid word pictures of a gothic setting which includes a long archway, a “long and winding staircase” which leads to “the damp ground of the catacombs” patterns of “nitre” growing on the walls and piles of bones.
2. The Appearance of a Diabolic Motif. The switch from the outdoor world of the carnival to the underground world of the Montresor catacombs coincides with the appearance of a particularly diabolic motif represented by the following speech:
"Come, I said with decision, "We will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as I once was. You are a man to be missed....."
"Enough," he said, the cough is a mere nothing, it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough."
"True- - true," I replied, and indeed, I had an intention of alarming you unnecessarily, but you should use all proper caution." (1148)
This repeated "concern" for Fortunato's health is actually Montresor's way of increasing the “bouquet” of his revenge. For full satisfaction, not only must Fortunato be lured to his doom by the wiles of Montresor, but he must also be propelled there by the force of his own desires. The attempt to dissuade the victim must become a spur to his victim. Over and over, Fortunato has refused an opportunity to go back. When Montresor offers to get another person—Luchresi to taste his cask, he is swept aside. When Montresor insists they return because of his cough, Fortunato again dismisses his “concern.” He is the one who is most insistent at getting to their destination as he cries out “Let us proceed to the Amontillado.” The result will be that when Fortunato "gets" what has happened to him, he will know he brought it on his own head. He has freely chosen his own fate! How much more satisfactory for Montresor to orchestrate Fortunato's fate so that it results from his own free choice and not from Montresor's coercion.
3. The March to Climax. Not only does Fortunato brush aside Montresor’s “solicitude,” he resolutely ignores warning signs. Could not the earlier note of bitterness (“you are happy as I once was”) have triggered a bit of alarm? And might he not have seen that Montresor’s bold act of pulling out a concealed trowel (73) signified something more than a jesting “proof” that Montresor belongs to the masons for which Fortunato apparently takes it? Apparently in no condition to recognize subtleties Fortunato’s “Let us proceed to the Amontillado” marches us to end of the story’s rising action and into its climax where he finds himself in the most remote recess of an ‘interior” crypt, staring about “stupidly bewildered” for the absent Amontillado. At that moment, Montresor springs his previously prepared trap:
A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite....He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess.
"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is very damp. Once more, let me implore you to return. NO? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the attentions in my power."
"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied. "The Amontillado."
The climax is the point where the various elements of the plot “come to a head” in a turning point which determines how the rest of the story will “come out”. The climax here might well be called a “two-pronged one.” First of all, the actual scheme has come to fruition in the living entombment of Fortunato—but as, Montresor’s own earlier words should make clear, this unfortunate gentleman must “recognize” what has happened to him. His cry of “The Amontillado” shows that indeed he is no longer “clueless” and that "Amontillado" doesn't mean actual wine, but the savor of a beautifully plotted revenge.
4. From
Climax to Conclusion
A
A less than satisfactory revenge? As Montresor begins to wind down the story by walling up the crypt, he does, at first, seem to experience the savor of a fully satisfying revenge. A "low moaning cry" from the crypt's interior reveals that Fortunato's intoxication has worn off, hence exposing him to the full shock of his fear and desperation. Though followed by an "obstinate silence," Montresor soon able to savor "the furious vibrations of the chain...during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, i ceased my labors and sat down upon my bones."
But
his enjoyment seems to be disturbed rather than increased by a series of shrill
screams “which thrust me violently back”
“For a brief moment” he “trembles.”
This anxiety may spring from fear that the catacomb walls may not hold
against Fortunato’s desperate yankings on the embedded chains.
After reassuring himself, he again resumes his enjoyment, matching
Fortunato’s howls with his own. But
it is possible that the trembling may have a deeper cause.
As
Montresor is about to finish his work, Fortunato utters a low laugh which again
produces an unpleasant rather than “savory” aspect
since Montresor admits that it raises the hairs on the back of his neck.
In a sad voice which is nevertheless attempting to muster a laugh,
Fortunato expresses the hope this will all be a good joke, but receives only
echoing mockery in reply. ‘”Will
they not be waiting for us at the Palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let
us begone,” cries Fortunato. “Let
us be gone,” echoes back Montresor.” Sheer
desperation immediately replaces the terrifyingly light tone. “’For the love
of God, Montresor!’” To which
another mocking echo, “’Yes…for
the love of God!” (74)
But
at this moment, Fortunato, apparently
realizing his situation is hopeless, becomes silent and affords no more
satisfaction to Montresor who “hearkens in vain for a reply,” even growing
impatient and calling his name several more times.
Only the jingling of bells remains there and “my
heart grew sick---on account of the dampness” of the catacombs.”
A sick heart is not the best way to enjoy revenge, and the remark about
the catacombs’ dampness is unconvincing in the extreme.
At the end, not only
Fortunato, but something within him
seems to thwart what would appear to be a perfect murder.
The perfect crime may not have brought the perfect revenge.