telling because the events have already been concluded, and Montresor is telling the story after the fact; note that the verbs are past tense: he "had borne" Fortunato's insults, he isn't "bearing" them currently. A first person objective narrator can be more reliable than a subjective narrator because they have already lived through whatever events they describe; people in the midst of action are often emotional and have not had time to reflect on the situation.

An objective narrator, however—at least in first person (it is different for third person)—knows how things work out. They know the end, and so they can be more measured and accurate in their narration. In the final paragraph of the story, Montresor actually says that no one has disturbed the final resting place of Fortunato, the man he confesses to murdering, for "half of a century." In other words, these events took place around fifty years ago, and Montresor is probably now an old man, perhaps on his deathbed. This may be why he has chosen to tell the story now.

Edgar Allan Poe had a choice to make, as all authors do, when he wrote "The Cask of Amontillado." He had to decide who was going to tell the story. In this case he had three choices: Montresor, Fortunato, or a disconnected narrator.

Consider what the story would have been if Fortunato had told the story. It is tempting to think that we may have learned something more about the supposed insults he offered Montresor which apparently prompted this entire episode; however, it seems unlikely that Fortunato actually did or said anything insulting, so all we would have gotten was a story full of unanswered questions and confusion. In fact, even as Montresor was putting the last brick in the wall, it is not clear that Fortunato really understood what was happening to him or why. He would not have been an effective teller of this story.

A detached narrator might have worked, would certainly have worked better than Fortunato; however, we certainly would not experience quite the same horror as when we hear Montresor talk about his unholy acts. We might have had the facts but not experienced the same reaction.

So, Poe chose to use the first-person point of view so Montresor could tell his own story and attempt to justify his unjustifiable actions. We hear Montresor's voice when he tries to justify his horrific plan:

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled -- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. 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.

It is obviously told in the first person because the narrator uses first-person pronouns and shares with us his thoughts. Unfortunately for us (the readers), Montresor is not a reliable narrator. We know that a man capable of such a cold-blooded act cannot be completely sane, and we see no evidence that Fortunato has done any of the things Montresor accuses him of doing. Despite that, we are privy to what Montresor is thinking as he commits this heinous act because he is the narrator, and this makes Poe's choice of Montresor as narrator the perfect choice for this horror story.

Many people would react to this question by saying it suggests a logical absurdity, because Fortunato is killed at the end and therefore can't be the narrator. Before we get to that issue, and the inexplicable type of account this would be in which a man is killed but somehow "lives" to tell about it, here are just the surface qualities such a story would have to have, if so narrated:

1) Fortunato is drunk, so the wording would presumably show the difficulty he is having in shaping his story. The overall drift, and the individual sentences, would lack cohesion and lucidity. The narration would anticipate features of stream-of-consciousness as it was to be employed by writers such as Joyce nearly a century after Poe. Perhaps even if they didn't go this far into a deliberate absence of straightforward storytelling, Fortunato's words would present a kind of blur causing the reader to have little or no clear idea of what the story is about. A veil would be placed in front of the action, a veil which the reader would constantly wish to tear away in order to make more direct sense of what's taking place. Poe's technique would thus be that of a Henry James or a Conrad, if not a Joyce.

2) Commentators, since the story first appeared, have often noted that the climactic point occurs at the very start, when Montresor announces what he plans to do. Written from Fortunato's point of view, the story would function in the opposite way, and the outcome would be a surprise, a shock. A pleasantly dreamlike account of walking through the catacombs with a friend would replace the understated, matter-of-fact descriptions Montresor gives us, but the main effect of an account by Fortunato would be a reversal of the existing one in which we already know that something grim and criminal is going to occur.

3) Paradoxically we might actually learn much more from Fortunato about the two men, their history, and the dynamic between them than we do from Montresor. Would Fortunato tell us anything about these thousand injuries he has inflicted upon his "friend," if he has, indeed, actually committed them ? Would we see fear in Fortunato even before his friend turns on him ? Would Fortunato attempt to justify himself ? When Montresor begins to seal up the tomb, would the narrative degenerate into a senseless panic ?

4) Finally, what would the ending look like and, as suggested here, would an ending make any kind of sense given that the man telling the story hasn't actually survived to tell it ? Of course, it isn't impossible in literature to have a story told by someone who is already dead. In my view Poe's tale, if narrated this way, would be more terrible and frightening than the story as it currently exists. The cold eerieness of such a fable would throw us completely off balance. The effect would be similar to that in the film Sunset Boulevard in which we finally learn, in scenes that function more or less as an epilogue, that Joe Gillis, the man whose voice-over has dominated and controlled the story line, is the man who has been found dead, floating in his lover's swimming pool. But the reader would then be inclined to ask: just what is the point ?—even more so than we ask about Poe's story in its existing form.

Fortunato would be mainly interested in what there was for him to gain out of Montresor's request for help. Montresor tells him two important things. One is that he bought a whole pipe of Amontillado, 126 gallons, at a bargain price. The other is that he is on his way to Luchesi to get his opinion of it. Montresor has already paid for the wine and had it transported to his palazzo. Why is he so anxious to get an immediate assurance that it is genuine? It must be that he intends to buy more if he is sure it is genuine Amontillado. He says he was looking for Fortunato but couldn't find him, which is why he is hurrying to find Luchesi. Obviously Montresor wants to buy more of the wine before news gets out that it is available at a bargain price.

Now Fortunato knows that the Amontillado is available at a bargain price. He does not want to show any interest in it because he would like to buy up the entire shipment himself. He realizes that it must have arrived in Venice aboard a Spanish ship from Barcelona. He doesn't need to go to Montresor's palazzo to taste the wine. He could just go to the docks and ask about a newly arrived Spanish ship. He could taste the wine aboard the ship to make sure it is genuine Amontillado, and then deal with the captain or purser on the spot. Fortunato is a rich man. He could afford to buy the entire cargo. And he thinks he could get an even better bargain than Montresor had gotten, since he would be offering to buy the entire shipload.

But if Fortunato declines to accompany Montresor to his palazzo, he knows Montresor will go straight to Luchesi--and then Fortunato would find himself competing for the Amontillado with another rich man who is also a connoisseur of wine. So Fortunato has to go to Montresor's palazzo primarily to keep Luchesi in the dark. Fortunato's perspective should reveal that he has no intention of telling Montresor the truth if the wine is really genuine. He intends to sip it, frown, shake his head, and say that it is only ordinary sherry.

Montresor's palazzo from Fortunato's perspective would look shabby. He would note that the servants had all left to take part in the carnival. His perceptions would be distorted because of all the wine he had been drinking. He would eventually find himself chained to the granite wall of the catacombs and would realize that he had been tricked. He would sober up quickly and think about how he could talk his way out of the fix he was in. He would try examining the chains and padlock in the dark. Then he would become panicked and start trying to break the chain or pull one end out of the rock. He would try screaming for help. He would try talking to Montresor, pretending he was taking this as a clever jest, hoping to plant some doubt and fear in his enemy's mind by suggesting that he was expected at home by a large group of people including his wife, relatives, guests, and servants. But in the end he would find himself walled up in a narrow niche listening in vain for the sound of approaching footsteps which might mean that Montresor had had a change of heart and was coming back to set him free.

Since Fortunato would have nothing with which to write his thoughts, his version of the events would probably best be handled as an interior monologue or else as straight stream-of-consciousness. Some of the same dialogue could be borrowed from Poe's version of the story. The most important difference would be that Fortunato would be thinking of tricking Montresor, whereas in the original version it is Montresor who is thinking about tricking Fortunato.

The first-person point of view allows readers to become intimately familiar with the brutal and conniving mind of Montresor, a murderer. After all, he tells us in the very beginning of the story,

I must not only punish, but punish with impunity.

His vindictive nature is only fully known because we are able to discern his motives and scheming as the plot progresses. Montresor explains how he carefully plotted his words and deeds so that Fortunato would not suspect anything was amiss:

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will.

We also become acutely suspicious of the Montresor's motives for murder. Although he claims he has a grievance with Fortunato, he never specifically outlines what that is. It seems reasonable that a person plotting murder would provide some sort of concrete motive for such drastic actions. Interestingly, at one point, our narrator comments to his soon-to-be-victim,

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.

Is it possible that the narrator is jealous of Fortunato? Could that be the underlying motive for murder?

And that becomes a central question for the reader. Can we trust this narrator, who seems incapable of providing the full truth? This sense of distrust only builds when he toasts Fortunato, wishing him a "long life," just before leading him to his death.

Our narrator seems unready or unable to share his full truth, and this sense of distrust contributes to a growing sense of unease as the plot progresses. The story ends with Montresor's cold and calculating realization of the murderous plot he has plotted.

Poe writes in the first person to put his reader inside the head of the narrator. The rhetorical effect of this choice is for the reader to suspend, for a moment, his judgement: rather than dismissing Montresor as insane, we are forced to enter into his mindset. In this case, the point of view emphasizes Montresor’s hatred of insults. Significantly, Poe does not explain the nature of Fortunato’s transgression. Instead, Montresor explains the nature of vengeance: “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.” His calmness and calculation are akin to the deliberate manner the old man is observed and killed in “The Tell Tale Heart,” but the narrator here lacks the “nervous” quality of the narrator of “The Tell Tale Heart.” In that story, the purpose of the narrative was to argue that the (obviously) insane speaker was not crazy; here, the purpose is different – Montresor speaks from a position of power and condescension, and his story serves as a example of his family motto – “Nemo me impune lacessit” or “No one provokes me with impunity.” By the end of the story, the reader’s horror at Fortunato’s fate stands in stark relief to Montresor’s final words: Rest in peace.

By writing in the first person, Poe allows the reader to be inside Montressor's thoughts and witness firsthand the inner mind of a murderer.  Probably the most significant element is the reason Montressor gives for killing Fortunato-- an "insult".  Because Montressor does not elaborate, the reader never does find out the nature of this "insult"; however, given the fact that Fortunato willingly goes to the catacombs with Montressor, it couldn't have been very significant in Fortunato's mind.  If the insult was as petty as "I don't like your taste in wine", it becomes all the more horrific that Montressor would resort to murder for something like that.  If one insult could set him on the path to murder, it might leave the reader wondering if he ever repeated the crime for some other "insult". 

Poe's characteristic use of the first-person narrator is intrinsic to the real horror of his short story, "The Cask of Amontillado."  For, while Poe uses the Gothic conventions in creating an atmosphere of terror, it is enhanced by Poe's technique of arasbesque, the pattern of returning to the initial disturbing idea of Montresor's deceptive concern for Fortunato's health when he really plans cold-bloodied murder in a torturous manner. For instance, throughout their traversal of the family catacombs, Montresor arrests Fortuato's progress in feigned concern to both his victim and his audience,

"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious.  You are rich, respected, admired, belove; you are happy, as once I was.  You are a man to be missed.  For me it is not matter.  We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible...." 

With this use of the demented narrator Montresor, it is not the Gothic use of supernatural that creates fear in the reader, but rather the perception of the sequence of events through Montresor's eyes and mind that generates the real horror, the horror that lies in all that which the human heart is capable.

The Cask of Amontillado is an 1846 short story by renowned author Edgar Alen Poe, in which a socially injured member of Italian nobility takes revenge on the man who slighted him.

The story is told through first-person narration, as if the narrator is telling the story to a listening person. In fact, the narrator, Montresor, directly addresses the reader on several occasions, such as the opening lines:

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat.

Here, the receiver of the tale is assumed to be on the same social class as Montresor himself; the idea that Montresor would threaten Fortunato instead of simply acting is unthinkable in his eyes. By personalizing the narration, Montresor's crime is brought closer, as if he is trusting the reader with a dark secret. Indeed, if the end of the story is believed, Montresor has not confessed for over fifty years.

Another useful aspect of first-person narration is how it allows the teller of the tale -- Montresor -- to entirely control the meaning of context. A third-person narrative would have been too far removed from the personal nature of the story. We have no real information about the injury of Fortunato, but in Montresor's eyes it was enough to deserve death. We see Fortunato as a drunken fool, but one who at some point was a threat, and Montresor makes no effort to conceal his scorn, appealing to Fortunato's arrogance -- or possibly his deserved skill in wine-tasting; we cannot be sure, since Montresor is biased.

Montresor influences readers with the opening sentence: "The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge." This manipulates the reader because now we are expecting a revenge story. What did Fortunato do to make the narrator so angry? What will the revenge be? Will the narrator get away with it? The reader may find themselves siding with Montresor in his quest for revenge or feeling pity for Fortunato (or even both).

All of these help build the story's suspense.

Poe also uses irony to influence the readers. My students particularly enjoy how Montresor toys with Fortunato. For example, when Fortunato states that he is suffering from a cough but it won't kill him, Montresor agrees . . . and it is dramatic irony because we suspect that his cough certainly won't kill him . . . Montresor will.

This irony is repeated when Fortunato asks if Montresor is a member of the freemasons (a rather notorious secret society). It is clear now that Montresor is not on the same social level as Fortunato. However, while Fortunato can laugh at Montresor for not being part of the "brotherhood." However, Montresor has the final laugh for he produces a "trowel." By now the reader might be able to guess Montresor's revenge.

Even the ending is left open to debate. If the bones haven't been disturbed for fifty years, then he got away with it. But what about Fortunato's family? Why did Montresor finally confess his crime?

The narrator takes on the role of someone victimized by Fortunato, speaking of the "thousand injuries" he has borne up to present without complaint. This is a purely subjective statement and the reader has no way to discern whether the narrator is a true victim or not. But the tone of pathos , even empathy, has already been set.

The narrator also addresses the reader as person in whom he has absolute confidence. Here is someone to whom he may confide his innermost secrets without betrayal. This is a subtle but very efficient form of "emotional bribing," where the narrator is tricked into a complicity and intimacy he did not initially bargain for.

Montresor also speaks of the "great family" he belongs to, not just in number but in prestige. If because of Fortunato he is a fallen man, it must have been a terrible plunge indeed. Even the Montresor coat-of-arms graphically shows the "justice" of retribution. The golden heel crushing the serpent underfoot - there is definitely a "Mafioso" code of honour in vigour here!

In all these ways Montresor sollicits the reader's sympathies. Whether he gets them or not is another question....

Montresor is so adept at hiding his feelings that, were the story narrated by Fortunato, it is unlikely that we'd know what Montresor was up to until the very end. The story, then, would really lack the tension it now possesses as a result of the dramatic irony. We know, because Montresor has said so, that he intends to exact some terrible revenge on Fortunato, and so we are waiting for it, as tension builds throughout the story, but Fortunato doesn't know. As Montresor says,

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.

Fortunato does not know what Montresor's intentions are—in fact, no one does—and so it would be a much less exciting tale were it narrated by another character. Further, not even Montresor's servants know what he's up to because he's cleverly manipulated them to get them out of the house. He's told them that he'll be gone all night and that they shouldn't go anywhere, knowing that these instructions were enough "to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as [his] back was turned." Moreover, he's disguised himself with a "mask of black silk" and a long cape—it is the Carnivale season, when people wear costumes to public celebrations—so that he cannot be identified. There is, literally, no one else who can tell this story with all of the drama and tension that Montresor can because he's gone to such great lengths to conceal his intentions and plan. When he says that he's been Fortunato's victim, that he's endured some "thousand injuries" as well as terrible "insult" from Fortunato, his own desire to justify the murder he's committed is clear.

1) Write a few sentences from the point of view of Fortunato or of the listener.

From the listener's perspective, Montresor's narrative is engaging and disturbing at once. Montresor begins by giving his macabre confession about the murder of Fortunato. According to Montresor, Fortunato wounded him in "a thousand" ways, and Montresor is justified in seeking revenge. However, from the listener's perspective, it is clear that Fortunato may not be the most reliable narrator. The listener is drawn into the increasing suspense of the story as Montresor explains his intention to kill Fortunato in such a way that he will be aware of the fact that his suffering is an act of revenge.

2) Why does Poe use the first-person point of view in "The Cask of Amontillado?"

"The Cask of Amontillado" is told from Montresor's perspective in order to create a heightened sense of suspense that builds throughout the story. Because the story is being told by Montresor, his recollection of events is often thrown into question. This leaves the reader to wonder whether any of Montresor's claims of vengeance are true or whether he is simply mad. The central event of the story, or Fortunato's murder, would be less jarring if it was told from the victim's perspective. The first-person perspective allows the narrator to build up to the murder with his own remembrances, preparations, and ponderings on his motivations. The true horror of the story is encapsulated in the rapture in which Montresor lures his victim to his death and relishes his torment.

Choosing a narrative point of view is one of the most important decisions an author can make when writing a story. Simply stated, a story written in third-person voice will not resemble a story in the first person. First-person point of view puts you inside the mind of a character within the story, so that narrator and character merge together, rendering everything within the story subjective (because the person telling it is tethered to their own personal perspective of the events of the story). This is in sharp contrast to third-person voice, where the narrator is always outside the events of the story.

Poe understood the nuances of first-person narration perfectly and employed them to extraordinary effect. In stories such as "The Cask of Amontillado," he places his readers directly within the disturbed mindset of the character who is telling the story. In this case, we are reading a story in which a person is buried alive, from the perspective of the person who has committed the murder. This means of presentation greatly heightens the tension and horror of the story and creates a disturbing quality that could not have been as effectively achieved were this story told from a less subjective perspective.

Imagine reading "The Cask of Amontillado" without knowing exactly what Montressor was thinking, or hearing it in his own words.  It wouldn't be much of a story, of course.  If, for example, the story were told only from Fortunato's point of view, we'd probably have no clue about Montressor's intentions until the very end, which is when Fortunato finally figured it out.  If the story were told from a third-person point of view, we'd hear a narrator telling us about Montressor's thoughts but would not hear his actual chilling words:

THE THOUSAND INJURIES of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat.

There is something compelling about being inside this man's rather disturbed mind, something that makes his actions believable.  Without these kind of thoughts presented directly to us by a first-person narrator, the story just isn't particularly believable.  Instead, as we hear Montressor tell this story, our horror grows and we know he's capable of doing such a horrific thing.  No other point of view would suit this character or this story.