{"id":25,"date":"2019-05-22T13:09:15","date_gmt":"2019-05-22T17:09:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/chapter\/tell-tale-heart-by-edgar-allan-poe-1843\/"},"modified":"2019-05-23T18:31:29","modified_gmt":"2019-05-23T22:31:29","slug":"tell-tale-heart","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/chapter\/tell-tale-heart\/","title":{"raw":"Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe (1843)","rendered":"Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe (1843)"},"content":{"raw":"
\u201cScience has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u2014 Edgar Allan Poe<\/blockquote>\r\n\r\n
\r\n\r\nTRUE!\u2014nervous\u2014very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses\u2014not destroyed\u2014not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily\u2014how calmly I can tell you the whole story.\r\n\r\nIt is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture\u2014a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees\u2014very gradually\u2014I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.\r\n\r\nNow this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded\u2014with what caution\u2014with what foresight\u2014with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it\u2014oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly\u2014very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man\u2019s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously\u2014oh, so cautiously\u2014cautiously (for the hinges creaked)\u2014I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights\u2014every night just at midnight\u2014but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.\r\nUpon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch\u2019s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers\u2014of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back\u2014but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.\r\n\r\nI had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out\u2014\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d\r\n\r\nI kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening;\u2014just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.\r\n\r\nPresently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief\u2014oh, no!\u2014it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself\u2014\u201cIt is nothing but the wind in the chimney\u2014it is only a mouse crossing the floor,\u201d or \u201cIt is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp.\u201d Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel\u2014although he neither saw nor heard\u2014to feel the presence of my head within the room.\r\n\r\nWhen I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little\u2014a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it\u2014you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily\u2014until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.\r\n\r\nIt was open\u2014wide, wide open\u2014and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness\u2014all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man\u2019s face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.\r\n\r\nAnd have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense?\u2014now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man\u2019s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.\r\n\r\nBut even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man\u2019s terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment!\u2014do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me\u2014the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man\u2019s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once\u2014once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.\r\n\r\nIf still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.\r\n\r\nI then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye\u2014not even his\u2014could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out\u2014no stain of any kind\u2014no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all\u2014ha! ha!\r\n\r\nWhen I had made an end of these labors, it was four o\u2019clock\u2014still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart,\u2014for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.\r\n\r\nI smiled,\u2014for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search\u2014search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.\r\n\r\nThe officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct:\u2014It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness\u2014until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.\r\n\r\nNo doubt I now grew very<\/em> pale;\u2014but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased\u2014and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound\u2014much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath\u2014and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly\u2014more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men\u2014but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed\u2014I raved\u2014I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder\u2014louder\u2014louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God!\u2014no, no! They heard!\u2014they suspected!\u2014they knew!\u2014they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now\u2014again!\u2014hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!\r\n\r\n\u201cVillains!\u201d I shrieked, \u201cdissemble no more! I admit the deed!\u2014tear up the planks! here, here!\u2014It is the beating of his hideous heart!\u201d\r\n
\r\n

Discussion Questions<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/header>\r\n

\r\n
    \r\n \t
  1. The narrator attempts to persuade the readers that he is not mad. Do his attempts work? Why or why not?<\/li>\r\n \t
  2. Does the narrator exhibit a high level of intelligence? Explain your answer.<\/li>\r\n \t
  3. How does Poe use style to engage the reader?<\/li>\r\n \t
  4. What is the theme of the story? How does Poe use the characters to develop the theme?<\/li>\r\n<\/ol>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n

    Text Attributions<\/h3>\r\n
      \r\n \t
    • \"Tell Tale Heart\" by Edgar Allan Poe is free of known copyright restrictions in Canada and the United States.<\/li>\r\n<\/ul>","rendered":"

      \u201cScience has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.\u201d<\/p>\n

      \u2014 Edgar Allan Poe<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

      \n

      TRUE!\u2014nervous\u2014very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses\u2014not destroyed\u2014not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily\u2014how calmly I can tell you the whole story.<\/p>\n

      It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture\u2014a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees\u2014very gradually\u2014I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.<\/p>\n

      Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded\u2014with what caution\u2014with what foresight\u2014with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it\u2014oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly\u2014very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man\u2019s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously\u2014oh, so cautiously\u2014cautiously (for the hinges creaked)\u2014I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights\u2014every night just at midnight\u2014but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
      \nUpon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch\u2019s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers\u2014of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back\u2014but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.<\/p>\n

      I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out\u2014\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d<\/p>\n

      I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening;\u2014just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.<\/p>\n

      Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief\u2014oh, no!\u2014it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself\u2014\u201cIt is nothing but the wind in the chimney\u2014it is only a mouse crossing the floor,\u201d or \u201cIt is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp.\u201d Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel\u2014although he neither saw nor heard\u2014to feel the presence of my head within the room.<\/p>\n

      When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little\u2014a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it\u2014you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily\u2014until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.<\/p>\n

      It was open\u2014wide, wide open\u2014and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness\u2014all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man\u2019s face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.<\/p>\n

      And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense?\u2014now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man\u2019s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.<\/p>\n

      But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man\u2019s terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment!\u2014do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me\u2014the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man\u2019s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once\u2014once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.<\/p>\n

      If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.<\/p>\n

      I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye\u2014not even his\u2014could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out\u2014no stain of any kind\u2014no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all\u2014ha! ha!<\/p>\n

      When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o\u2019clock\u2014still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart,\u2014for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.<\/p>\n

      I smiled,\u2014for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search\u2014search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.<\/p>\n

      The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct:\u2014It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness\u2014until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.<\/p>\n

      No doubt I now grew very<\/em> pale;\u2014but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased\u2014and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound\u2014much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath\u2014and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly\u2014more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men\u2014but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed\u2014I raved\u2014I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder\u2014louder\u2014louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God!\u2014no, no! They heard!\u2014they suspected!\u2014they knew!\u2014they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now\u2014again!\u2014hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!<\/p>\n

      \u201cVillains!\u201d I shrieked, \u201cdissemble no more! I admit the deed!\u2014tear up the planks! here, here!\u2014It is the beating of his hideous heart!\u201d<\/p>\n

      \n
      \n

      Discussion Questions<\/p>\n<\/header>\n

      \n
        \n
      1. The narrator attempts to persuade the readers that he is not mad. Do his attempts work? Why or why not?<\/li>\n
      2. Does the narrator exhibit a high level of intelligence? Explain your answer.<\/li>\n
      3. How does Poe use style to engage the reader?<\/li>\n
      4. What is the theme of the story? How does Poe use the characters to develop the theme?<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

        Text Attributions<\/h3>\n
          \n
        • “Tell Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe is free of known copyright restrictions in Canada and the United States.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"author":103,"menu_order":5,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-25","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/25","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/103"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/25\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":124,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/25\/revisions\/124"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/25\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=25"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=25"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=25"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/perspectives\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=25"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}