The Gold-Bug

     What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!
     He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
                                        --All in the Wrong        

Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William
Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been
wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To
avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left
New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his
residence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.

This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else
than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at
no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the
mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through
a wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the
marsh-hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at
least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near
the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are
some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the
fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed,
the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of
this western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the
sea-coast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet
myrtle so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The
shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet,
and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with
its fragrance.

In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern
or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a
small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made
his acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship--for there was
much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him
well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with
misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate
enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely
employed them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or
sauntering along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of
shells or entomological specimens--his collection of the latter
might have been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he
was usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had
been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could
be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what
he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his
young "Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of
Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect,
had contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view
to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very
severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed
when a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October,
18--, there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness.
Just before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to
the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks--my
residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine
miles from the island, while the facilities of passage and
re-passage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon
reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and getting no
reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked
the door, and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth.
It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off
an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling logs, and awaited
patiently the arrival of my hosts.

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome.
Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some
marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else
shall I term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown
bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted
down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarabaeus which he
believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to
have my opinion on the morrow.

"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze,
and wishing the whole tribe of scarabaei at the devil.

"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's
so long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would
pay me a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming
home I met Lieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I
lent him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it
until the morning. Stay here to-night, and I will send Jup down
for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!"

"What?--sunrise?"

"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about the
size of a large hickory-nut--with two jet black spots near one
extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the
other. The antennae are--"

"Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin' on you,"
here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery
bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing--meber feel half so hebby
a bug in my life."

"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more
earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded; "is that any
reason for you letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned
to me--"is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You
never saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales
emit--but of this you cannot judge till tomorrow. In the meantime
I can give you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated
himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no
paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.

"Never mind," he said at length, "this will answer"; and he drew
from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty
foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he
did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly.
When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising.
As I received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by a
scratching at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large
Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my
shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much
attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over, I
looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a
little puzzled at what my friend had depicted.

"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this is
a strange scarabaeus, I must confess; new to me; never saw any
thing like it before--unless it was a skull, or a death's-head,
which it more nearly resembles than any thing else that has come
under my observation."

"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand. "Oh--yes--well, it has something
of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black
spots look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a
mouth--and then the shape of the whole is oval."

"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I
must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea
of its personal appearance."

"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw
tolerably--should do it at least--have had good masters, and
flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead."

"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, "this is a
very passable skull--indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent
skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of
physiology--and your scarabaeus must be the queerest scarabaeus in
the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling
bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the
bug scarabaeus caput hominis, or something of that kind--there are
many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the
antennae you spoke of?"

"The antennae!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting
unaccountably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the
antennae. I made them as distinct as they are in the original
insect, and I presume that is sufficient."

"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have--still I don't see them";
and I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing
to ruffle his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn
affairs had taken; his ill humor puzzled me--and, as for the
drawing of the beetle, there were positively no antennae visible,
and the whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary
cuts of a death's-head.

He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple
it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at
the design seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant
his face grew violently red--in another as excessively pale. For
some minutes he continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely
where he sat. At length he arose, took a candle from the table,
and proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the farthest
corner of the room. Here again he made an anxious examination of
the paper; turning it in all directions. He said nothing,
however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought it
prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by
any comment. Presently he took from his coat-pocket a wallet,
placed the paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a
writing-desk, which he locked. He now grew more composed in his
demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite
disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as abstracted. As
the evening wore away he became more and more adsorbed in revery,
from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my
intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done
before, but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to
take leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he
shook my hand with even more than his usual cordiality.

It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had
seen nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston,
from his man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look
so dispirited, and I feared that some serious disaster had
befallen my friend.

"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?--how is your
master?"

"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought
be."

"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain
of?"

"Dar! dat's it!--him neber 'plain of notin'--but him berry sick for
all dat."

"Very sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he
confined to bed?"

"No, dat he aint!--he aint 'fin'd nowhar--dat's just whar de shoe
pinch--my mind is got to be barry hebby 'bout poor Massa Will."

"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking
about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he told you what ails
him?"

"Why, massa, 'taint worf while for to git mad about de
matter--Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him--but
den what make him go about looking dis here way, wid he head down
and he soldiers up, and as white as a gose? And den he keep a
syphon all de time--"

"Keeps a what, Jupiter?"

"Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs I
ebber did see. Ise gittin' to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to
keep mighty tight eye 'pon him 'noovers. Todder day he gib me
slip 'fore de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I
had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuced good beating when
he did come--but Ise sich a fool dat I hadn't de heart arter
all--he looked so berry poorly."

"Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be
too severe with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't
very well stand it--but can you form no idea of what has
occasioned this illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has
any thing unpleasant happened since I saw you?"

"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant since den--'twas 'fore
den I'm feared--'twas de berry day you was dare."

"How? what do you mean?"

"Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now."

"The what?"

"De bug--I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere 'bout
de head by dat goole-bug."

"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?"

"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see sich a
deuced bug--he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him.
Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him go 'gin mighty
quick, I tell you--den was de time he must ha' got de bite. I
didn't like de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I wouldn't
take hold ob him wid my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob
paper dat I found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff a piece of
it in he mouff--dat was de way."

"And you think, then, that you master was really bitten by the
beetle, and that the bite made him sick?"

"I don't think noffin' about it--I nose it. What make him dream
'bout de goole so much, if 'taint cause he bit by de goole-bug?
Ise heerd 'bout dem goole-bugs 'fore dis."

"But how do you know he dreams about gold?"

"How I know? why, 'cause he talk about it in he sleep--dat's how I
nose."

"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate
circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from you
to-day?"

"What de matter, massa?"

"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?"

"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel"; and here Jupiter handed me
a note which ran thus:

"My Dear ----
     "Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have
not been so foolish as to take offence at any little brusquerie
of mine; but no, that is improbable.
     "Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have
something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or
whether I should tell it at all.
     "I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old
Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant
attentions. Would you believe it?--he had prepared a huge stick,
the other day, with which to chastise me for giving him the slip,
and spending the day, solus, among the hills on the main land. I
verily believe that my ill looks alone saved me a flogging.
     "I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
     "If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with
Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you to-night, upon business of
importance. I assure you that it is of the highest importance.
                         "Ever yours,
                                        "William Legrand"

There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great
uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of
Legrand. What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet
possessed his excitable brain? What "business of the highest
importance" could he possibly have to transact? Jupiter's account
of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the continued pressure of
misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my
friend. Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I prepared to
accompany the negro.

Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all
apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were
to embark.

"What is the meaning of all this, Jup?" I inquired.

"Him syfe, massa, and spade."

"Very true; but what are they doing here?"

"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis 'pon me buying for
him in de town, and de debbil's own lot of money I had to gib for
'em."

"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your `Massa
Will' going to do with scythes and spades?"

"Dat's more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don't b'lieve
'tis more dan he know too. But it's all cum ob de bug."

Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose
whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by "de bug," I now stepped
into the boat, and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we
soon ran into the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie,
and a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about
three in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had been waiting
us in eager expectation. He grasped my hand with a nervous
empressement which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions
already entertained. His countenance was pale even to
ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural lustre.
After some enquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not
knowing wha