Poe is known for his horror stories and murder mysteries, and “The Imp of the Perverse” flirts with both genres. This is a tale of murder and punishment: the anonymous narrator commits a seemingly perfect crime, gets away with it for years, then inexplicably confesses and is condemned to be hanged. Though the narrator expresses no guilt for his crime, and the murder itself is described only briefly and detachedly, justice does find him in the end. Interestingly, in this story there is no brilliant detective to catch the murderer (Poe is also credited with inventing the detective story)—instead, the narrator’s own “perverse” impulses bring him to openly confess. With this, Poe seems to hint at the existence of a kind of divine justice, one that punishes the remorseless narrator despite his “perfect” crime, as he is driven by the Imp of the Perverse to confess and then is seemingly condemned to hell after his impending execution.
As with many of Poe’s tales, “The Imp of the Perverse” centers around a grotesque crime. The narrator, desiring his victim’s inheritance (they are implied to be related), deliberates for months about how to commit murder without getting caught. He finally comes across the idea of using a poisoned candle. Knowing his victim’s “habit of reading in bed,” as well as his “narrow and ill-ventilated” apartment, he switches out the victim’s candle for a poisoned one. The scheme works: the man dies in the night, the narrator is able to remove evidence of the “fatal taper,” and the authorities declare the victim’s death a “visitation of God.” It seems that the narrator has escaped justice, though the brief reference to God here suggests that the narrator has only escape mortal punishment, not a divine reckoning.
It's important to note that the narrator is not driven to murder by the Imp of the Perverse. Instead, the crime seemingly comes entirely of his own volition, and he never tries to blame it on the Imp or anything else. His description of the murder is short and detached, and it seems that he killed his victim entirely out of greed, not because of any special hatred or other strong emotion. He sees the victim as a means to an end, and so disposes of him coldly and logically. This is the truly horrifying aspect of the story: the narrator’s chilling psychopathy, not the Imp’s drive towards self-harm.
Indeed, the narrator only hates and fears the Imp because it makes him confess to his crime, leading him to both earthly and divine justice. For a long time he is happy with his newfound wealth and the satisfaction of duping everyone. Eventually, however, he becomes “haunted” by fears that he will be discovered and unmasked as a murderer. To comfort himself, he takes to frequently saying “I am safe” under his breath. One day, though, “in a fit of petulance,” he attaches a fatal addition to these words: “I am safe—yes—if I be not fool enough to make open confession!” With this, the Imp of the Perverse takes hold of the narrator’s mind, driving him to do exactly the opposite of what he wants. He starts running, hoping to escape his impulse, and attracts a suspicious crowd. He then collapses, confesses, and is arrested: “consigned […] to the hangman and to hell.” In saying this, he seems to recognize that justice has found him, and that he deserves to be condemned. The narrator never expresses remorse for his crime, and he does consider himself a “victim” of the Imp, but he also never protests against the punishment he receives after his confession. He only wanted to outwit the police and avoid earthly punishment—he seems to have assumed that he would eventually be condemned to hell for his crime.
In first describing the Imp of the Perverse, the narrator says that the impulse cannot come from Satan (the “arch-fiend”) because sometimes it works “in furtherance of good.” While he is still speaking broadly here, it seems that he is also referencing his own case: the Imp doesn’t drive him to murder, but instead drives him to receive the punishment that he deserves. Poe doesn’t let his murderer get away with it, and with this he gestures towards a larger justice, which, though not explicitly Christian, invokes a “God” who ultimately judges the wicked no matter the failures human authority. The narrator himself seems to recognize this as well, as the story ends with his desperate question of where his soul will end up after his execution.
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Crime, Justice, and Punishment Quotes in The Imp of the Perverse
Had I not been thus prolix, you might either have misunderstood me altogether, or, with the rabble, have fancied me mad. As it is, you will easily perceive that I am one of the many uncounted victims of the Imp of the Perverse.
For weeks, for months, I pondered upon the means of the murder. I rejected a thousand schemes, because their accomplishment involved a chance of detection.
The next morning he was discovered dead in his bed, and the Coroner’s verdict was—“Death by the visitation of God.”
For a very long period of time I was accustomed to revel in this sentiment. It afforded me more real delight than all the mere worldly advantages accruing from my sin.
But there arrived at length an epoch, from which the pleasurable feeling grew, by scarcely perceptible gradations, into a haunting and harassing thought. It harassed because it haunted. I could scarcely get rid of it for an instant […] In this manner, at last, I would perpetually catch myself pondering upon my security, and repeating, in a low undertone, the phrase, “I am safe.” One day, whilst sauntering along the streets, I arrested myself in the act of murmuring, half aloud, these customary syllables. In a fit of petulance, I remodelled them thus; “I am safe—I am safe—yes—if I be not fool enough to make open confession!”
And now my own casual self-suggestion that I might possibly be fool enough to confess the murder of which I had been guilty, confronted me, as if the very ghost of him whom I had murdered—and beckoned me on to death.
They say that I spoke with a distinct enunciation, but with marked emphasis and passionate hurry, as if in dread of interruption before concluding the brief, but pregnant sentences that consigned me to the hangman and to hell.
But why shall I say more? To-day I wear these chains, and am here! To-morrow I shall be fetterless!—but where?
