millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. (2)

Poe emphasizes Montresor's foreignness early on. Montresor does not consider himself an Italian. But why French, when the Montresors, judging from their accumulated bones, have been living in Italy for centuries? The narrator is an outsider. He may be able to trace his lineage in Italy back for generations but is still, in comparison to Fortunato, an upstart. No doubt, being frequently reminded of his parvenu status, his fallen fortunes, and even being referred to as "that Frenchman" are among the "thousand injuries" Montresor has suffered. Fortunato is indeed fortunate in having money and family connections. By contrast, Montresor tells his guest, "The Montresors were a great and numerous family." The word numerous helps explain the large accumulation of skeletons in a relatively few centuries. The quoted passage also shows that Fortunato deals in paintings, gemmary, and probably also in wine, which would explain his strong interest in the Amontillado that Montresor says he has just acquired at a bargain price.

Here Poe, whose name and ancestry were also French, reveals his personal feelings. Montresor tells Fortunato: "You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter." Montresor's name further suggests that his letter, which is what Poe’s story purports to be, may have been written in French and sent to a friend in France. This would make his confession more plausible. In fact, the letter might have been found among his papers posthumously. Montresor may have remained a heavy drinker all his life, especially if suffering from guilt or fear. He may have written the confession when drunk and decided not to send it when sober.

Poe highlights the protagonist's French background in multiple ways. Montresor is wearing a "roquelaire," a French garment named after the Duc de Roquelaure. He offers his guest Medoc, a French wine, than a flagon of another Bordeaux called De Grâve. He uses the French word flambeaux to describe their torches. He is armed with a rapier, a French word for a French weapon. He speaks of "puncheons" of wine (from Old French poinçon). The fact that Montresor is not wearing a costume is another indication of his outsider status. He would feel awkward participating in a festival among folk with whom he has no sympathy.

It is impossible to read "The Cask of Amontillado" without sensing Poe's hypersensitivity about his own insecure financial and social position. Poe had no friends and many enemies. The facts that he married a thirteen-year-old girl, that he was a notorious alcoholic, that he had been expelled from West Point, that he was deeply in debt, and that he had been disowned by his foster father hardly enhanced his reputation. He had good cause to fantasize about taking revenge on more than one person.

Limited Exposition

Poe avoids unnecessary exposition by leaving it to the reader to guess the location of the story. But the word palazzo suggests Venice, where such mansions have existed since the thirteenth century. The Carnival of Venice is the most famous of all carnivals and still a great tourist attraction. The crime would have to take place in a major city. Otherwise, Fortunato and Montresor would be recognized by too many people. At one point Montresor says: "We are below the river's bed." The largest river in Italy, which empties into an estuary near Venice, is named—very suggestively—the Po.

Many details serve dual or multiple purposes. For instance, Montresor writes:

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

The pretense of strong friendship not only keeps Fortunato off guard but insures that no one will suspect Montresor after the "immolation" he has planned. If the two were known to be enemies, the authorities would question Montresor and even search his premises. Like any good liar, Montresor knows he must first convince himself. For years he has lived with the lie that Fortunato is still his friend. By continuing to call Fortunato his good friend in spite of many injuries, Montresor is virtually inviting the haughty Italian to "venture upon insult."

There is no point in analyzing Montresor as though he had ever existed in the flesh. He is given exactly the attributes needed, including envy, pride, cunning, motivation, patience, duplicity, cruelty, caution, and even some experience with masonry. His outstanding characteristic is that he is a Machiavellian liar. He has formed the habit of talking about his "friend" at every opportunity to guard against future suspicion. He has actually forced himself to think of Fortunato as his good friend because this is the only way in which he could interact with his enemy in a totally friendly manner for all the world to see. Montresor could not drop his mask of friendship after disposing of his victim. People would be inquiring about the uncanny disappearance for years, and Montresor would have to remain as baffled and distressed as his victim's closest relatives.

Montresor has grown so used to thinking of his enemy as a friend that he cannot help calling Fortunato his "friend" as he is leading Fortunato to his doom, and even fifty years later, when perhaps he has actually come to believe that Fortunato really was still his friend. It is a sad thought that Montresor may have been so alone in the world that his worst enemy was his best friend.

My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.

By stating that he "bought largely" whenever he could, Montresor explains why his vaults are so full of barrels and bottles that he is forced to lead his friend a considerable distance. It is possible, however, that many barrels are nearly empty. If Fortunato is aware that Montresor, in spite of his poverty, buys wine liberally when he can afford to, then it will not seem implausible that his host has acquired 126 gallons of Amontillado. Neither will it seem implausible that the Amontillado should have been offered to Montresor first.

Timing of the Murder

The fact that Montresor has gotten rid of his household servants proves he has decided to enact his revenge that night if possible. More proof is that he is carrying the trowel under his cloak. The final example of proof is the cask of Amontillado itself. If it does not really exist, then Montresor is taking a risk in telling Fortunato he has just bought it.

Why does Poe give such stress to the dampness? He refers to it no less than six times, as in the following:

"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre."

Henry James wrote: "The only obligation to which in advance we may hold a novel without incurring the accusation of being arbitrary, is that it be interesting." That is also the only obligation to which we may hold a short story—except of course that it be short. A story cannot be interesting unless it is dramatic. It cannot be dramatic without sustained conflict. The only conflict in Poe's story is created by the many dangers and logistical difficulties the narrator must overcome. Montresor's method of luring his friend underground and murdering him is the story.

Montresor has no redeeming character traits, with the exception of a sense of humor, and yet we emphasize with him because of his motivation, his problems, and because we are kept in his point of view from start to finish. We can only imagine Fortunato's point of view from Montresor's description of the sounds—and even the silences—that occur after the victim has been trapped. First there is "a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess," and then there is "a long and obstinate silence." Montresor considers it “obstinate” because he would prefer to hear screams of horror and pleas for mercy.

The reader knows very well what is going on inside the recess. Fortunato is trying to determine how securely the bolts are fastened to the granite wall. Then he is checking the rusted chain itself to judge whether there are any weak links. Finally, he is testing the padlock to guess whether there is any possibility of prying it open. He does all this in silence because it would be foolhardy to try to break free before his captor had departed. His "long and obstinate silence" is proof of his insincerity when he pretends to take the entrapment as a practical joke. But here Fortunato is betrayed by the "tight-fitting" jester's costume bestowed upon him by his creator. If he cannot be carrying a concealed weapon, then he cannot be carrying any kind of tool that would enable him, even with infinitely patient effort, to file through the chain or pick the padlock.

When the silence ends, Montresor hears "the furious vibrations of the chain." Poe's choice of the word vibrations shows that the chain is too tight to rattle. Fortunato is now overcome with blind panic as the wall grows taller. He is trying to free himself either by breaking a link or pulling the chain out of the wall. Finally, he resorts to shrill screams for help but gives up when his host's echoing screams make him realize that no one could hear him. Montresor's screams are not intended to characterize him as a madman, as some critics have suggested; he is screaming to show Fortunato, as well as to reassure himself—and most importantly for Poe to show the reader—that nobody can hear anything taking place so far beneath the surface of the earth.

Fortunato’s Motivation

Fortunato is not primarily motivated by the challenge to his connoisseurship, nor is he motivated by an urgent desire to sample the delicious sherry. He is motivated by avarice. He deals with British and Austrian millionaires in paintings, gemmary, and presumably wines. Montresor has just obtained a whole pipe at a "bargain" price. Fortunato must not allow Luchesi to find out. His rival might buy up whatever quantity was still available, but the first step is to verify that it really is the true Amontillado. This is why, in spite of his bad cold and in spite of being inadequately clothed, Fortunato is so insistent upon sampling it that very night.

How fortunate for Fortunato that he encountered Montresor before Luchesi! Otherwise, his rival would have done the same thing to him that he plans to do to Luchesi. Poor Montresor could probably only afford to buy a single cask, but Fortunato could buy the entire shipment and drive an even better bargain. No doubt the many occasions on which he has been beaten out of lucrative transactions by his richer, better connected friend are among the thousand injuries Montresor himself has suffered.

Meanwhile, Poe's description of cobweb-covered human bones dripping moisture and nitre plays on the reader's imagination and emotions, and Fortunato's fate will thus seem all the more horrible. This place is suitable only for dead men. The reader, however, is drawn along by curiosity, just as Fortunato is drawn along by avarice.

Assuming that the Amontillado is nonexistent, this is yet another proof that Montresor has decided to enact his revenge that very night. Otherwise, Fortunato would certainly make inquiries and learn that Montresor could not have purchased a pipe of Amontillado. If Fortunato had in fact had an "engagement" that night, Montresor would have aborted his plan. But Fortunato might never again accept Montresor's "friendship" at face value. It might dawn on the overbearing Fortunato that his snubs and jibes had not gone unfelt or unresented.

Enveloped in a black roquelaire and wearing a mask of black silk, Montresor must look like the personification of Death leading yet another mortal to his predestined grave. Wearing a fool's costume complete with cap and bells, Fortunato must look like the personification of Life with its vanities and illusions. Poe's story depends on risks and coincidences. Fortunato's cold and cough are a coincidence without which he might ask too many penetrating questions. But the coincidences, rather than fighting against verisimilitude, actually strengthen it by making it seem that Fate has decreed this to be the night of nights when Fortunato must meet his doom. Montresor would not be describing the incident in such detail if his risky plan had not been a success.

Fortunato: A Man to Be Respected and Feared

But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said—

"Ha! ha! ha!—he! he! he!—a very good joke indeed—an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—he! he! he!—over our wine—he! he! he!"

"The Amontillado!" I said.

"He! he! he!—he! he! he!—yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will they not be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."

"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."

"For the love of God, Montresor!"

"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"

This passage is absolutely essential. In the first place, it serves to characterize Fortunato as something more than a boor, a souse, a jester, and a dupe. Montresor describes him as "a man to be respected and even feared," but this has yet to be shown. The sober Fortunato reveals some of the craftiness that makes him dangerous. He does not for a moment believe that this horrible entrapment is a practical joke. He suddenly realizes that Montresor is not the simpleton, masochist, toady he has taken him for, but an enemy whose hatred and cunning are unfathomable. His only hope is that Montresor might be frightened into opening the padlock. He claims that the Lady Fortunato and a number of other people are expecting his arrival, which suggests that friends, relatives, and servants will be out with torches. They will be asking everyone for a man wearing a harlequin costume complete with jingling bells. Fortunato understands that Montresor would prefer that his victim’s absence should go unremarked until at least the following day.

The fact that this is a season during which the wildest behavior is licensed gives Fortunato a slender pretext for taking Montresor's elaborate entrapment as a clever prank. Fortunato himself, dressed as a jester, can pretend to be a connoisseur of jests. If Montresor could be frightened into giving up the project, then he could probably avoid retribution by maintaining that it was all in fun. In manifold ways, the sober Fortunato displays his cunning:

• He pretends to believe Montresor is playing an excellent practical joke.
• He pretends that he will be praising Montresor's cleverness to all their acquaintances.
• He pretends to be amused, although his voice and forced laughter betray his terror and insincerity.
• He pretends to believe that Montresor plans to release him.
• He pretends to believe that he and Montresor are still good friends.
• He not only pretends that he is expected at home but that they are both expected by his wife, relatives, and numerous guests. By asking, "Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest?" he is trying to plant seeds of doubt. The implication is that many people have recognized the two as companions and assumed the good friends were en route to Fortunato's palazzo.
• He invites Montresor to join his intimate circle—something he may have rarely done in the past—implying that he may be of greater use to him socially and in practical matters in the future.
• He pretends to believe that the cask of Amontillado actually exists and is to be found somewhere in the vicinity. Even if it never existed, that should not deter Montresor from releasing him, since that could have been part of the "excellent jest."

Like a cornered tiger, eyes gleaming in the torchlight, Fortunato is still "to be respected and even feared." He would exact the fullest revenge if he could somehow manage to escape.

Another reason for providing Fortunato with a tight-fitting costume was so that the chain itself would fit snugly when Montresor shut the padlock on the link that would make it tightest. Poe describes the interior recess as about four feet deep. Fortunato would have to be pinned against the wall with the "short chain" across his waist in order to prevent him from reaching out and interfering with the wall-building. The mortar will take a long time to dry in that dank atmosphere, and Fortunato could break down a portion of the wall even if he could not escape. If he had been wearing a looser-fitting costume, and even a cloak, or if he had been less corpulent, he might have a hope of slipping free.

Poe foresaw the possibility that people could be searching for Fortunato but was so confident of his technical virtuosity that he gratuitously provided Fortunato with a unique costume complete with bells. The costume was intended to make Fortunato as conspicuous as possible. If enough people had noticed the man in the "tight-fitting parti-striped dress," the searchers could conceivably trace him to the doors of Montresor's palazzo—but only if the search was initiated that very night. By morning the littered streets would be empty. Repentant sinners would be recovering from hangovers. The man in the harlequin costume would be remembered, if at all, as a fleck of color amidst what Poe might have called the "phantasmagoria of the carnival orgy." The costume would certainly attract attention, but it would also detractattention from the harlequin's companion, who would be no more than a shadow in his black cloak and black mask. The more conspicuous the costume of the one man, the more inconspicuous would be the apparel of the other.

Still another reason for dressing Fortunato in a clown's costume was to guard against the reader's identifying with him. The costume dehumanizes him. Poe wants the reader to identify exclusively with Montresor until the very end. He does so by providing Montresor with a strong motive, by remaining entirely in his point of view, and additionally by making his protagonist the narrator. The reader must rely on Montresor to find out what happens. Poe demonstrates that a reader can be induced to empathize with a fiend. The reader is relieved to learn that Montresor's terrible crime was a complete success. Like Dante, Poe has taken his reader into the depths of hell and brought him safely back.

Montresor has foresight. When he first encounters Fortunato, he says, "As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If anyone has a critical turn, it is he." A few lines later, not having gotten the information he needs, he says, "I perceive you have an engagement. Luchesi—" To which Fortunato responds: "I have no engagement;—come." No doubt Fortunato has often stayed away from home overnight, and, after all, this is "the supreme madness of the carnival season." If his intended victim had in fact had an engagement that evening, the infinitely patient Montresor would have postponed the execution. Many people will be searching for Fortunato eventually, but the executioner will be safe if he can leave a cold trail. If Fortunato fails to put in an appearance the next day, his wife will assume he is sleeping it off on someone's couch or in someone's bed.

Poe's story retains its fascination from generation to generation because of the technical brilliance of its preconceived single effect. It leaves some readers with feelings they remember for years. And yet it is a work of pure imagination. Even the cask of Amontillado is imaginary—doubly imaginary, in fact, because it was created in the imagination of Montresor, the character created in the imagination of Poe.

The man who writes the confidential letter fifty years after the deed is not the same as the man who committed it. Montresor has grown very old. He has often thought about the unfortunate Fortunato decaying into a skeleton while his costume turned to rags. Montresor refers to his victim as his friend throughout the letter. This is not necessarily ironic. By the time the murderer pens his confidential confession he has forgotten his old hatred, which should further explain why he does not feel a need to itemize any of "the thousand injuries of Fortunato." He has buried his old enemy among his own ancestors and has made him, in a sense, a part of the family. No doubt he often revisited the scene of his crime. He had been the custodian and will soon join Fortunato among all the other dead men's bones.

Why Did Poe Write This Story?

The fact that Poe may have been venting real hatred against contemporary enemies is inconsequential. His personal feelings, transformed by his imagination, served to create a masterpiece. He has been called the father of the modern short story. His paternity, like a tiny cell, is essentially contained in the epigraph to this essay. The modern short story is designed to achieve a single effect. Analyzing a short story "with a kindred art" by starting with its effect leads to a better appreciation of the craftsmanship involved: there is no word written of which the tendency, direct of indirect, is not to the one pre-established design.

Any creative writer has the option to disregard Poe's definition, but most short story writers all over the world appear to have been satisfied with such a precise and logical guideline. Not only that, but Poe's story serves as the perfect illustration of his own rationale. It is not the gruesome ending that makes his story a classic, nor is it the suggestion of a mystery involving long-forgotten Literati. Instead, it is the creative virtuosity and the strict economy in the execution of artistic design that assure the story's longevity.

Many scholars have argued about the "meaning," the "message," or the "point" of Poe's story. A work of art does not have to have a meaning, a message, or a point. A work of art that is not a work of propaganda is intended to convey an emotion experienced by the artist himself. This emotion is what Poe always refers to as an "effect." It is the feeling left with the reader (or the hearer or the viewer) that constitutes the purpose of art.

Here is Leo Tolstoy's sensible and succinct definition:

To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced, and having evoked it in oneself, then, by, means of movements, lines, colors, sounds, or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others may experience the same feeling—this is the activity of art. (4)

Poe’s Legacy

Poe was unique in literature. He is remembered for his stories and poems, but he earned his living—such as it was—as an editor and critic. He was a critic who could function as a creative writer, a creative writer who was an acute critic. His emphasis on the macabre reflects the understanding of popular taste that made him a notably successful editor. Any newspaper will show that modern readers still have an insatiable appetite for human depravity. Poe's stories have had a worldwide influence because readers recognize their own secret emotions and fantasies. We want to see Montresor murder Fortunato in the cruelest possible way, and we want to see him get away with it. The avalanche of mystery and horror novels since Poe's seminal creations is glaring proof of this interest. The creative and analytical faculties—so often at odds—were joined in Poe. He gave the literary world the most succinct, the most practical, and the most self-evident working definition of the modern short story, and then provided the prototype.

If Poe was not concerned with a meaning, a message, or a point, why did he write "The Cask of Amontillado"? He did it to rid himself of painful feelings. In this respect he was not different from many other creative writers. For example:

If he wrote it he could get rid of it. He had gotten rid of many things by writing them.

—Ernest Hemingway, "Fathers and Sons"

Now, I happen to be the kind of author who in starting to work on a book has no other purpose than to get rid of that book.

—Vladimir Nabokov

To me alone there came a thought of grief.

A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong.

—William Wordsworth

"The Cask of Amontillado" was Poe's "timely utterance" of pent-up emotions. He places his story in a distant land and a different era, but it is his own feelings that give it force. We have all had our thousand injuries. The most painful often come at the hands of our "good friends," people we loved and admired and trusted.

End Notes

1. Edgar Allan Poe. Review of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales, Graham's Magazine, April 1842. Reprinted in Edgar Allan Poe: Essays and Reviews (New York: The Library of America, 1984) 572. Emphasis added.

2. Edgar Allan Poe. "The Cask of Amontillado" in Edgar Allan Poe: Poetry and Tales (New York: The Library of America, 1984) 848. Subsequent citations of this story refer to this text.

3. Henry James. “The Aspern Papers,” in The Turn of the Screw, The Aspern Papers and Two Stories (New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2003) 25-26.

4. Leo Tolstoy. What Is Art? Translated by Almyer Maude. (Indianapolis, Indiana: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1960) 51.