APDL Eductation Resources/APDL Eductation Resources.iso/text/authors/poe/predicamnt/PREDICAMNT

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                         1838

                     A PREDICAMENT

                  by Edgar Allan Poe


         What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?
                                                             COMUS.


IT was a quiet and still afternoon when I strolled forth in the goodly
city of Edina. The confusion and bustle in the streets were terrible.
Men were talking. Women were screaming. Children were choking. Pigs were
whistling. Carts they rattled. Bulls they bellowed. Cows they lowed.
Horses they neighed. Cats they caterwauled. Dogs they danced. Danced!
Could it then be possible? Danced! Alas, thought I, my dancing days are
over! Thus it is ever. What a host of gloomy recollections will ever and
anon be awakened in the mind of genius and imaginative contemplation,
especially of a genius doomed to the everlasting and eternal, and
continual, and, as one might say, the- continued- yes, the continued and
continuous, bitter, harassing, disturbing, and, if I may be allowed the
expression, the very disturbing influence of the serene, and godlike,
and heavenly, and exalted, and elevated, and purifying effect of what
may be rightly termed the most enviable, the most truly enviable- nay!
the most benignly beautiful, the most deliciously ethereal, and, as it
were, the most pretty (if I may use so bold an expression) thing (pardon
me, gentle reader!) in the world- but I am always led away by my
feelings. In such a mind, I repeat, what a host of recollections are
stirred up by a trifle! The dogs danced! I- I could not! They frisked- I
wept. They capered- I sobbed aloud. Touching circumstances! which cannot
fail to bring to the recollection of the classical reader that exquisite
passage in relation to the fitness of things, which is to be found in
the commencement of the third volume of that admirable and venerable
Chinese novel the Jo-Go-Slow.

In my solitary walk through, the city I had two humble but faithful
companions. Diana, my poodle! sweetest of creatures! She had a quantity
of hair over her one eye, and a blue ribband tied fashionably around her
neck. Diana was not more than five inches in height, but her head was
somewhat bigger than her body, and her tail being cut off exceedingly
close, gave an air of injured innocence to the interesting animal which
rendered her a favorite with all.

And Pompey, my negro!- sweet Pompey! how shall I ever forget thee? I had
taken Pompey's arm. He was three feet in height (I like to be
particular) and about seventy, or perhaps eighty, years of age. He had
bow-legs and was corpulent. His mouth should not be called small, nor
his ears short. His teeth, however, were like pearl, and his large full
eyes were deliciously white. Nature had endowed him with no neck, and
had placed his ankles (as usual with that race) in the middle of the
upper portion of the feet. He was clad with a striking simplicity. His
sole garments were a stock of nine inches in height, and a nearly- new
drab overcoat which had formerly been in the service of the tall,
stately, and illustrious Dr. Moneypenny. It was a good overcoat. It was
well cut. It was well made. The coat was nearly new. Pompey held it up
out of the dirt with both hands.

There were three persons in our party, and two of them have already been
the subject of remark. There was a third- that person was myself. I am
the Signora Psyche Zenobia. I am not Suky Snobbs. My appearance is
commanding. On the memorable occasion of which I speak I was habited in
a crimson satin dress, with a sky-blue Arabian mantelet. And the dress
had trimmings of green agraffas, and seven graceful flounces of the
orange-colored auricula. I thus formed the third of the party. There was
the poodle. There was Pompey. There was myself. We were three. Thus it
is said there were originally but three Furies- Melty, Nimmy, and Hetty-
Meditation, Memory, and Fiddling.

Leaning upon the arm of the gallant Pompey, and attended at a
respectable distance by Diana, I proceeded down one of the populous and
very pleasant streets of the now deserted Edina. On a sudden, there
presented itself to view a church- a Gothic cathedral- vast, venerable,
and with a tall steeple, which towered into the sky. What madness now
possessed me? Why did I rush upon my fate? I was seized with an
uncontrollable desire to ascend the giddy pinnacle, and then survey the
immense extent of the city. The door of the cathedral stood invitingly
open. My destiny prevailed. I entered the ominous archway. Where then
was my guardian angel?- if indeed such angels there be. If! Distressing
monosyllable! what world of mystery, and meaning, and doubt, and
uncertainty is there involved in thy two letters! I entered the ominous
archway! I entered; and, without injury to my orange-colored auriculas,
I passed beneath the portal, and emerged within the vestibule. Thus it
is said the immense river Alfred passed, unscathed, and unwetted,
beneath the sea.

I thought the staircase would never have an end. Round! Yes, they went
round and up, and round and up and round and up, until I could not help
surmising, with the sagacious Pompey, upon whose supporting arm I leaned
in all the confidence of early affection- I could not help surmising
that the upper end of the continuous spiral ladder had been
accidentally, or perhaps designedly, removed. I paused for breath; and,
in the meantime, an accident occurred of too momentous a nature in a
moral, and also in a metaphysical point of view, to be passed over
without notice. It appeared to me- indeed I was quite confident of the
fact- I could not be mistaken- no! I had, for some moments, carefully
and anxiously observed the motions of my Diana- I say that I could not
be mistaken- Diana smelt a rat! At once I called Pompey's attention to
the subject, and he- he agreed with me. There was then no longer any
reasonable room for doubt. The rat had been smelled- and by Diana.
Heavens! shall I ever forget the intense excitement of the moment? Alas!
what is the boasted intellect of man? The rat!- it was there- that is to
say, it was somewhere. Diana smelled the rat. I- I could not! Thus it is
said the Prussian Isis has, for some persons, a sweet and very powerful
perfume, while to others it is perfectly scentless.

The staircase had been surmounted, and there were now only three or four
more upward steps intervening between us and the summit. We still
ascended, and now only one step remained. One step! One little, little
step! Upon one such little step in the great staircase of human life how
vast a sum of human happiness or misery depends! I thought of myself,
then of Pompey, and then of the mysterious and inexplicable destiny
which surrounded us. I thought of Pompey!- alas, I thought of love! I
thought of my many false steps which have been taken, and may be taken
again. I resolved to be more cautious, more reserved. I abandoned the
arm of Pompey, and, without his assistance, surmounted the one remaining
step, and gained the chamber of the belfry. I was followed immediately
afterward by my poodle. Pompey alone remained behind. I stood at the
head of the staircase, and encouraged him to ascend. He stretched forth
to me his hand, and unfortunately in so doing was forced to abandon his
firm hold upon the overcoat. Will the gods never cease their
persecution? The overcoat is dropped, and, with one of his feet, Pompey
stepped upon the long and trailing skirt of the overcoat. He stumbled
and fell- this consequence was inevitable. He fell forward, and, with
his accursed head, striking me full in the- in the breast, precipitated
me headlong, together with himself, upon the hard, filthy, and
detestable floor of the belfry. But my revenge was sure, sudden, and
complete. Seizing him furiously by the wool with both hands, I tore out
a vast quantity of black, and crisp, and curling material, and tossed it
from me with every manifestation of disdain. It fell among the ropes of
the belfry and remained. Pompey arose, and said no word. But he regarded
me piteously with his large eyes and- sighed. Ye Gods- that sigh! It
sunk into my heart. And the hair- the wool! Could I have reached that
wool I would have bathed it with my tears, in testimony of regret. But
alas! it was now far beyond my grasp. As it dangled among the cordage of
the bell, I fancied it alive. I fancied that it stood on end with
indignation. Thus the happy-dandy Flos Aeris of Java bears, it is said,
a beautiful flower, which will live when pulled up by the roots. The
natives suspend it by a cord from the ceiling and enjoy its fragrance
for years.

Our quarrel was now made up, and we looked about the room for an
aperture through which to survey the city of Edina. Windows there were
none. The sole light admitted into the gloomy chamber proceeded from a
square opening, about a foot in diameter, at a height of about seven
feet from the floor. Yet what will the energy of true genius not effect?
I resolved to clamber up to this hole. A vast quantity of wheels,
pinions, and other cabalistic- looking machinery stood opposite the
hole, close to it; and through the hole there passed an iron rod from
the machinery. Between the wheels and the wall where the hole lay there
was barely room for my body- yet I was desperate, and determined to
persevere. I called Pompey to my side.

"You perceive that aperture, Pompey. I wish to look through it. You will
stand here just beneath the hole- so. Now, hold out one of your hands,
Pompey, and let me step upon it- thus. Now, the other hand, Pompey, and
with its aid I will get upon your shoulders."

He did every thing I wished, and I found, upon getting up, that I could
easily pass my head and neck through the aperture. The prospect was
sublime. Nothing could be more magnificent. I merely paused a moment to
bid Diana behave herself, and assure Pompey that I would be considerate
and bear as lightly as possible upon his shoulders. I told him I would
be tender of his feelings- ossi tender que beefsteak. Having done this
justice to my faithful friend, I gave myself up with great zest and
enthusiasm to the enjoyment of the scene which so obligingly spread
itself out before my eyes.

Upon this subject, however, I shall forbear to dilate. I will not
describe the city of Edinburgh. Every one has been to the city of
Edinburgh. Every one has been to Edinburgh- the classic Edina. I will
confine myself to the momentous details of my own lamentable adventure.
Having, in some measure, satisfied my curiosity in regard to the extent,
situation, and general appearance of the city, I had leisure to survey
the church in which I was, and the delicate architecture of the steeple.
I observed that the aperture through which I had thrust my head was an
opening in the dial-plate of a gigantic clock, and must have appeared,
from the street, as a large key-hole, such as we see in the face of the
French watches. No doubt the true object was to admit the arm of an
attendant, to adjust, when necessary, the hands of the clock from
within. I observed also, with surprise, the immense size of these hands,
the longest of which could not have been less than ten feet in length,
and, where broadest, eight or nine inches in breadth. They were of solid
steel apparently, and their edges appeared to be sharp. Having noticed
these particulars, and some others, I again turned my eyes upon the
glorious prospect below, and soon became absorbed in contemplation.

From this, after some minutes, I was aroused by the voice of Pompey, who
declared that he could stand it no longer, and requested that I would be
so kind as to come down. This was unreasonable, and I told him so in a
speech of some length. He replied, but with an evident misunderstanding
of my ideas upon the subject. I accordingly grew angry, and told him in
plain words, that he was a fool, that he had committed an ignoramus
e-clench-eye, that his notions were mere insommary Bovis, and his words
little better than an ennemywerrybor'em. With this he appeared
satisfied, and I resumed my contemplations.

It might have been half an hour after this altercation when, as I was
deeply absorbed in the heavenly scenery beneath me, I was startled by
something very cold which pressed with a gentle pressure on the back of
my neck. It is needless to say that I felt inexpressibly alarmed. I knew
that Pompey was beneath my feet, and that Diana was sitting, according
to my explicit directions, upon her hind legs, in the farthest corner of
the room. What could it be? Alas! I but too soon discovered. Turning my
head gently to one side, I perceived, to my extreme horror, that the
huge, glittering, scimetar-like minute-hand of the clock had, in the
course of its hourly revolution, descended upon my neck. There was, I
knew, not a second to be lost. I pulled back at once- but it was too
late. There was no chance of forcing my head through the mouth of that
terrible trap in which it was so fairly caught, and which grew narrower
and narrower with a rapidity too horrible to be conceived. The agony of
that moment is not to be imagined. I threw up my hands and endeavored,
with all my strength, to force upward the ponderous iron bar. I might as
well have tried to lift the cathedral itself. Down, down, down it came,
closer and yet closer. I screamed to Pompey for aid; but he said that I
had hurt his feelings by calling him 'an ignorant old squint-eye:' I
yelled to Diana; but she only said 'bow-wow-wow,' and that I had told
her 'on no account to stir from the corner.' Thus I had no relief to
expect from my associates.

Meantime the ponderous and terrific Scythe of Time (for I now discovered
the literal import of that classical phrase) had not stopped, nor was it
likely to stop, in its career. Down and still down, it came. It had
already buried its sharp edge a full inch in my flesh, and my sensations
grew indistinct and confused. At one time I fancied myself in
Philadelphia with the stately Dr. Moneypenny, at another in the back
parlor of Mr. Blackwood receiving his invaluable instructions. And then
again the sweet recollection of better and earlier times came over me,
and I thought of that happy period when the world was not all a desert,
and Pompey not altogether cruel.

The ticking of the machinery amused me. Amused me, I say, for my
sensations now bordered upon perfect happiness, and the most trifling
circumstances afforded me pleasure. The eternal click-clak, click-clak,
click-clak of the clock was the most melodious of music in my ears, and
occasionally even put me in mind of the graceful sermonic harangues of
Dr. Ollapod. Then there were the great figures upon the dial-plate- how
intelligent how intellectual, they all looked! And presently they took
to dancing the Mazurka, and I think it was the figure V. who performed
the most to my satisfaction. She was evidently a lady of breeding. None
of your swaggerers, and nothing at all indelicate in her motions. She
did the pirouette to admiration- whirling round upon her apex. I made an
endeavor to hand her a chair, for I saw that she appeared fatigued with
her exertions- and it was not until then that I fully perceived my
lamentable situation. Lamentable indeed! The bar had buried itself two
inches in my neck. I was aroused to a sense of exquisite pain. I prayed
for death, and, in the agony of the moment, could not help repeating
those exquisite verses of the poet Miguel De Cervantes:

      Vanny Buren, tan escondida
      Query no te senty venny
      Pork and pleasure, delly morry
      Nommy, torny, darry, widdy!

But now a new horror presented itself, and one indeed sufficient to
startle the strongest nerves. My eyes, from the cruel pressure of the
machine, were absolutely starting from their sockets. While I was
thinking how I should possibly manage without them, one actually tumbled
out of my head, and, rolling down the steep side of the steeple, lodged
in the rain gutter which ran along the eaves of the main building. The
loss of the eye was not so much as the insolent air of independence and
contempt with which it regarded me after it was out. There it lay in the
gutter just under my nose, and the airs it gave itself would have been
ridiculous had they not been disgusting. Such a winking and blinking
were never before seen. This behavior on the part of my eye in the
gutter was not only irritating on account of its manifest insolence and
shameful ingratitude, but was also exceedingly inconvenient on account
of the sympathy which always exists between two eyes of the same head,
however far apart. I was forced, in a manner, to wink and to blink,
whether I would or not, in exact concert with the scoundrelly thing that
lay just under my nose. I was presently relieved, however, by the
dropping out of the other eye. In falling it took the same direction
(possibly a concerted plot) as its fellow. Both rolled out of the gutter
together, and in truth I was very glad to get rid of them.

The bar was now four inches and a half deep in my neck, and there was
only a little bit of skin to cut through. My sensations were those of
entire happiness, for I felt that in a few minutes, at farthest, I
should be relieved from my disagreeable situation. And in this
expectation I was not at all deceived. At twenty-five minutes past five
in the afternoon, precisely, the huge minute-hand had proceeded
sufficiently far on its terrible revolution to sever the small remainder
of my neck. I was not sorry to see the head which had occasioned me so
much embarrassment at length make a final separation from my body. It
first rolled down the side of the steeple, then lodge, for a few
seconds, in the gutter, and then made its way, with a plunge, into the
middle of the street.

I will candidly confess that my feelings were now of the most singular-
nay, of the most mysterious, the most perplexing and incomprehensible
character. My senses were here and there at one and the same moment.
With my head I imagined, at one time, that I, the head, was the real
Signora Psyche Zenobia- at another I felt convinced that myself, the
body, was the proper identity. To clear my ideas on this topic I felt in
my pocket for my snuff-box, but, upon getting it, and endeavoring to
apply a pinch of its grateful contents in the ordinary manner, I became
immediately aware of my peculiar deficiency, and threw the box at once
down to my head. It took a pinch with great satisfaction, and smiled me
an acknowledgement in return. Shortly afterward it made me a speech,
which I could hear but indistinctly without ears. I gathered enough,
however, to know that it was astonished at my wishing to remain alive
under such circumstances. In the concluding sentences it quoted the
noble words of Ariosto-

      Il pover hommy che non sera corty
      And have a combat tenty erry morty;

thus comparing me to the hero who, in the heat of the combat, not
perceiving that he was dead, continued to contest the battle with
inextinguishable valor. There was nothing now to prevent my getting down
from my elevation, and I did so. What it was that Pompey saw so very
peculiar in my appearance I have never yet been able to find out. The
fellow opened his mouth from ear to ear, and shut his two eyes as if he
were endeavoring to crack nuts between the lids. Finally, throwing off
his overcoat, he made one spring for the staircase and disappeared. I
hurled after the scoundrel these vehement words of Demosthenes-

      Andrew O'Phlegethon, you really make haste to fly,

and then turned to the darling of my heart, to the one-eyed! the
shaggy-haired Diana. Alas! what a horrible vision affronted my eyes? Was
that a rat I saw skulking into his hole? Are these the picked bones of
the little angel who has been cruelly devoured by the monster? Ye gods!
and what do I behold- is that the departed spirit, the shade, the ghost,
of my beloved puppy, which I perceive sitting with a grace so
melancholy, in the corner? Hearken! for she speaks, and, heavens! it is
in the German of Schiller-

      "Unt stubby duk, so stubby dun
      Duk she! duk she!"

Alas! and are not her words too true?

      "And if I died, at least I died
      For thee- for thee."

Sweet creature! she too has sacrificed herself in my behalf. Dogless,
niggerless, headless, what now remains for the unhappy Signora Psyche
Zenobia? Alas- nothing! I have done.



                           THE END