'A Predicament' by Edgar Allen Poe

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What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?

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.

Editor 1 Interpretation


Edgar Allan Poe is a renowned American writer, known for his works in the genres of horror, mystery, and science fiction. "A Predicament" is one of his lesser-known works, but it is an intriguing short story that deserves critical attention. This literary criticism and interpretation will analyze "A Predicament" in terms of its themes, symbolism, and narrative structure.


"A Predicament" is a short story about a young woman named Madame Joyeuse who becomes trapped in a dangerous situation. The story takes place in Paris, where Madame Joyeuse is visiting her friend, Madame L'Espanaye. Madame L'Espanaye is an eccentric woman who collects exotic animals, including a large black ape. Madame Joyeuse is initially fascinated by the ape, but her fascination turns to horror when the ape escapes from its cage and attacks her.

Madame Joyeuse is left hanging from a window ledge, with the ape clinging to her hair. She is unable to move without falling to her death, but the ape is also unable to move without falling. Madame Joyeuse is in a predicament, and the story follows her struggle to survive.


One of the major themes of "A Predicament" is the danger of obsession. Madame L'Espanaye's obsession with exotic animals is what leads to Madame Joyeuse's predicament. Madame Joyeuse becomes too fascinated by the ape and fails to see the danger in its presence. This theme is also evident in Madame Joyeuse's own behavior. She becomes obsessed with the idea of being a martyr and sacrifices her life for the sake of her own vanity.

Another theme of the story is the inevitability of death. Madame Joyeuse is in a life and death situation, and she is acutely aware of the fragility of life. This theme is underscored by the fact that the story takes place during Mardi Gras, a time of celebration and excess that is contrasted by the seriousness of Madame Joyeuse's predicament.


The ape in "A Predicament" is a powerful symbol of the dangers of obsession. The ape represents the animalistic instincts that lie beneath the surface of human behavior. Madame L'Espanaye collects exotic animals because she is fascinated by their wildness, but she fails to understand the danger that they represent. The ape's attack on Madame Joyeuse is a manifestation of this danger.

Another symbol in the story is the window ledge. The window ledge represents the precariousness of Madame Joyeuse's situation. She is hanging from a ledge, with nothing but her own strength and the strength of her hair holding her up. The window ledge also represents the thin line between life and death.

Narrative Structure

The narrative structure of "A Predicament" is notable for its use of flashbacks. The story begins with Madame Joyeuse hanging from the window ledge, and then flashes back to the events that led up to her predicament. This structure heightens the tension of the story, as the reader is aware of the danger that Madame Joyeuse is in from the very beginning.

The story is also notable for its use of irony. Madame Joyeuse is a vain and self-absorbed woman who is obsessed with the idea of being a martyr. She sees herself as a heroic figure who is willing to sacrifice her life for the sake of her own vanity. However, her sacrifice is not heroic at all, as it is the result of her own foolishness and obsession.


In conclusion, "A Predicament" is a fascinating short story that explores the dangers of obsession and the fragility of life. Through its use of symbolism and narrative structure, the story creates a tense and suspenseful atmosphere that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. While it is not one of Poe's most famous works, "A Predicament" is a valuable addition to his body of work and deserves critical attention.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

Edgar Allan Poe is a name that resonates with every literature enthusiast. His works have been celebrated for their dark, mysterious, and eerie themes. One of his lesser-known works, "A Predicament," is a short story that showcases Poe's mastery of the macabre. In this article, we will delve into the story's plot, themes, and literary devices to understand why it is a classic in its own right.

The story begins with the narrator, who is unnamed, describing his encounter with a beautiful woman named Madame Joyeuse. She is a widow who has a reputation for being wealthy and eccentric. The narrator is immediately drawn to her beauty and charm, and he is invited to her house for dinner. However, things take a dark turn when the narrator realizes that Madame Joyeuse has a pet orangutan that is trained to perform various tasks.

The orangutan is the main character in the story, and it is described as being intelligent and mischievous. Madame Joyeuse treats it like a human, and it is allowed to roam freely around the house. During dinner, the orangutan becomes fascinated with the narrator's watch and steals it. The narrator is understandably upset, and Madame Joyeuse promises to retrieve it for him.

The next day, the narrator returns to Madame Joyeuse's house, and she informs him that the orangutan has hidden the watch in a chimney. Madame Joyeuse then proceeds to climb up the chimney to retrieve the watch, but she becomes stuck. The narrator tries to help her, but he is unable to do so. Madame Joyeuse is left hanging upside down in the chimney, and the orangutan is nowhere to be found.

The story's themes revolve around the dangers of obsession and the consequences of one's actions. Madame Joyeuse's obsession with her pet orangutan leads to her downfall. She treats it like a human, and it becomes her undoing. The orangutan's mischievous nature is also a warning against treating animals like humans. The consequences of the narrator's actions are also highlighted in the story. His attraction to Madame Joyeuse leads him to her house, and he becomes a witness to her downfall.

Poe's use of literary devices is also noteworthy. The story is written in the first person, which allows the reader to experience the narrator's emotions and thoughts. The use of imagery is also prevalent in the story. The description of Madame Joyeuse's house and the orangutan's antics create vivid images in the reader's mind. The use of irony is also evident in the story. Madame Joyeuse's obsession with the orangutan leads to her downfall, and the narrator's attraction to her leads him to witness it.

In conclusion, "A Predicament" is a classic Edgar Allan Poe story that showcases his mastery of the macabre. The story's themes of obsession and consequences are still relevant today, and Poe's use of literary devices creates a vivid and engaging story. It is a must-read for anyone who appreciates Poe's works and wants to experience his unique style of storytelling.

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