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A Predicament By Edgar Allan Poe
PAGE: 1

A PREDICAMENT

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.

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