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The Pit and
the Pendulum
by
Edgar Allan
Poe
I WAS
sick -- sick unto death with that long agony; and
when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my
senses were leaving me. The sentence -- the dread sentence of death -- was the
last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of
the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. This
only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I
saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed
judges. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from
those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the
syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. And then my
vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the
aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but
then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt
every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic
battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres,
with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then
there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet
rest there must be in the grave. All sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad
rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night
were the universe.
I had
swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it
there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was
not lost. He who has never swooned, is not he who finds strange palaces and
wildly familiar faces in coals that glow; is not he who beholds floating in
mid-air the sad visions that the many may not view; is not he who ponders over
the perfume of some novel flower -- is not he whose brain grows bewildered with
the meaning of some musical cadence which has never before arrested his
attention.
Very
suddenly there came back to my soul motion and sound -- the tumultuous motion
of the heart, and, in my ears, the sound of its beating. Then a pause in which
all is blank. Then again sound, and motion, and touch -- a tingling sensation
pervading my frame. Then the mere consciousness of existence,
without thought -- a condition which lasted long. Then, very suddenly,
thought, and shuddering terror, and earnest endeavor to comprehend my true
state. Then a strong desire to lapse into insensibility.
Then a rushing revival of soul and a successful effort to
move. And now a full memory of the trial, of the
judges, of the sable draperies, of the sentence, of the sickness, of the swoon.
Then entire forgetfulness of all that followed; of all that a later day and
much earnestness of endeavor have enabled me vaguely to recall.
So
far, I had not opened my eyes. I felt that I lay upon my back, unbound. I
reached out my hand, and it fell heavily upon something damp and hard. There I
suffered it to remain for many minutes, while I strove to imagine where and
what I could be. I longed, yet dared not to employ my vision. I dreaded the
first glance at objects around me. It was not that I feared to look upon things
horrible, but that I grew aghast lest there should be nothing to see. At
length, with a wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes. My worst
thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me.
I struggled for breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to oppress and stifle
me. The atmosphere was intolerably close. I still lay quietly, and made effort
to exercise my reason. I brought to mind the inquisitorial proceedings, and
attempted from that point to deduce my real condition. The sentence had passed;
and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed. Yet
not for a moment did I suppose myself actually dead. But where and in what
state was I?
A
fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a
brief period, I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at
once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fibre. I thrust my arms
wildly above and around me in all directions. I felt nothing; yet dreaded to
move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls of a tomb. Perspiration
burst from every pore, and stood in cold big beads upon my forehead. The agony
of suspense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved forward, with my
arms extended, and my eyes straining from their sockets, in the hope of
catching some faint ray of light. I proceeded for many paces; but still all was
blackness and vacancy. I breathed more freely. It seemed evident that mine was
not, at least, the most hideous of fates.
And
now, as I still continued to step cautiously onward, there came thronging upon
my recollection a thousand vague rumors of the horrors of Toledo. Of the
dungeons there had been strange things narrated -- fables I had always deemed
them -- but yet strange, and too ghastly to repeat, save in a whisper. Was I
left to perish of starvation in this subterranean world of darkness; or what
fate, perhaps even more fearful, awaited me? That the result
would be death, and a death of more than customary bitterness, I knew too well
the character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the hour were all that
occupied or distracted me.
My
outstretched hands at length encountered some solid obstruction. It was a wall,
seemingly of stone masonry -- very smooth, slimy, and cold. I followed it up;
stepping with all the careful distrust with which certain antique narratives
had inspired me. The ground was moist and slippery. I staggered onward for some
time, when I stumbled and fell. My excessive fatigue induced me to remain prostrate;
and sleep soon overtook me as I lay.
Upon
awaking, and stretching forth an arm, I found beside me a loaf and a pitcher
with water. I was too much exhausted to reflect upon this circumstance, but ate
and drank with avidity. I had met, however, with many angles in the wall, and
thus I could form no guess at the shape of the vault; for vault I could not
help supposing it to be.
Quitting
the wall, I resolved to cross the area of the enclosure. At first I proceeded with extreme caution, for the floor, although
seemingly of solid material, was treacherous with slime. At length, however, I
took courage, and did not hesitate to step firmly; endeavoring to cross in as
direct a line as possible. I had advanced some ten or twelve paces in this
manner, when the remnant of the torn hem of my robe became entangled between my
legs. I stepped on it, and fell violently on my face.
In
the confusion attending my fall, I did not immediately apprehend a somewhat
startling circumstance, which yet, in a few seconds afterward, and while I
still lay prostrate, arrested my attention. It was this -- my chin rested upon
the floor of the prison, but my lips and the upper portion of my head, although
seemingly at a less elevation than the chin, touched nothing. At the same time
my forehead seemed bathed in a clammy vapor, and the peculiar smell of decayed
fungus arose to my nostrils. I put forward my arm, and shuddered to find that I
had fallen at the very brink of a circular pit, whose extent, of course, I had
no means of ascertaining at the moment. Groping about the masonry just below
the margin, I succeeded in dislodging a small fragment, and let it fall into
the abyss. For many seconds I hearkened to its reverberations as it dashed
against the sides of the chasm in its descent; at length there was a sullen
plunge into water, succeeded by loud echoes. At the same moment there came a
sound resembling the quick opening, and as rapid closing of a door overhead,
while a faint gleam of light flashed suddenly through the gloom, and as
suddenly faded away.
I saw
clearly the doom which had been prepared for me, and congratulated myself upon
the timely accident by which I had escaped. Another step before my fall, and
the world had seen me no more. And the death just avoided, was of that very
character which I had regarded as fabulous and frivolous in the tales
respecting the Inquisition. To the victims of its tyranny, there was the choice
of death with its direst physical agonies, or death with its most hideous moral
horrors. I had been reserved for the latter. By long suffering my nerves had
been unstrung, until I trembled at the sound of my own voice, and had become in
every respect a fitting subject for the species of torture which awaited me.
Shaking
in every limb, I groped my way back to the wall; resolving there to perish
rather than risk the terrors of the wells, of which my imagination now pictured
many in various positions about the dungeon. In other conditions of mind I
might have had courage to end my misery at once by a plunge into one of these
abysses; but now I was the veriest of cowards. Neither could I forget what I
had read of these pits -- that the sudden extinction of life formed no part of
their most horrible plan. Agitation of spirit kept me awake for many long
hours; but at length I again slumbered.
Upon arousing,
I found by my side, as before, a loaf and a pitcher of water. A burning thirst
consumed me, and I emptied the vessel at a draught. It must have been drugged;
for scarcely had I drunk, before I became irresistibly drowsy. A deep sleep
fell upon me -- a sleep like that of death. How long it lasted of course, I
know not; but when, once again, I unclosed my eyes, the objects around me were
visible. By a wild sulphurous lustre,
the origin of which I could not at first determine, I was enabled to see the extent
and aspect of the prison.
The
entire surface of this metallic enclosure was rudely daubed in all the hideous
and repulsive devices to which the charnel superstition of the monks has given
rise. The figures of fiends in aspects of menace, with skeleton forms, and
other more really fearful images, overspread and disfigured the walls. I now
noticed the floor, too, which was of stone. In the centre
yawned the circular pit from whose jaws I had escaped; but it was the only one
in the dungeon.
All
this I saw indistinctly and by much effort: for my personal condition had been
greatly changed during slumber. I now lay upon my back, and at full length, on
a species of low framework of wood. To this I was securely bound by a long
strap resembling a surcingle. It passed in many convolutions about my limbs and
body, leaving at liberty only my head, and my left arm to such extent that I
could, by dint of much exertion, supply myself with
food from an earthen dish which lay by my side on the floor. I saw, to my
horror, that the pitcher had been removed. I say to my horror; for I was
consumed with intolerable thirst. This thirst it appeared to be the design of
my persecutors to stimulate: for the food in the dish was meat pungently
seasoned.
Looking
upward, I surveyed the ceiling of my prison. It was some thirty or forty feet
overhead, and constructed much as the side walls. In one of its panels a very
singular figure riveted my whole attention. It was the painted figure of Time
as he is commonly represented, save that, in lieu of a scythe, he held what, at
a casual glance, I supposed to be the pictured image
of a huge pendulum such as we see on antique clocks. There was something,
however, in the appearance of this machine which caused me to regard it more
attentively. While I gazed directly upward at it (for its position was
immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an instant
afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and
of course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but
more in wonder. Wearied at length with observing its dull movement, I turned my
eyes upon the other objects in the cell.
A
slight noise attracted my notice, and, looking to the floor, I saw several
enormous rats traversing it. They had issued from the well, which lay just
within view to my right. Even then, while I gazed, they came up in troops,
hurriedly, with ravenous eyes, allured by the scent of the meat. From this it
required much effort and attention to scare them away.
It
might have been half an hour, perhaps even an hour, (for I could take but
imperfect note of time) before I again cast my eyes upward. What I then saw
confounded and amazed me. The sweep of the pendulum had increased in extent by
nearly a yard. As a natural consequence, its velocity was also much greater.
But what mainly disturbed me was the idea that had perceptibly descended. I now
observed -- with what horror it is needless to say -- that its nether extremity
was formed of a crescent of glittering steel, about a foot in length from horn
to horn; the horns upward, and the under edge evidently as keen as that of a
razor. Like a razor also, it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from the edge
into a solid and broad structure above. It was appended to a weighty rod of
brass, and the whole hissed as it swung through the air.
I
could no longer doubt the doom prepared for me by monkish ingenuity in torture.
My cognizance of the pit had become known to the inquisitorial agents -- the
pit whose horrors had been destined for so bold a recusant as myself -- the
pit, typical of hell, and regarded by rumor as the Ultima
Thule of all their punishments. The plunge into this pit I had avoided by the
merest of accidents, I knew that surprise, or entrapment into torment, formed
an important portion of all the grotesquerie of these dungeon deaths. Having
failed to fall, it was no part of the demon plan to hurl me into the abyss; and
thus (there being no alternative) a different and a milder destruction awaited
me. Milder! I half smiled in my agony as I thought of such application of such
a term.
What
boots it to tell of the long, long hours of horror more than mortal, during
which I counted the rushing vibrations of the steel! Inch by inch -- line by
line -- with a descent only appreciable at intervals that seemed ages -- down
and still down it came! Days passed -- it might have been that many days passed
-- ere it swept so closely over me as to fan me with its acrid breath. The odor
of the sharp steel forced itself into my nostrils. I prayed -- I wearied heaven
with my prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically mad, and
struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. And
then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling at the glittering death, as a child
at some rare bauble.
There
was another interval of utter insensibility; it was brief; for, upon again
lapsing into life there had been no perceptible descent in the pendulum. But it
might have been long; for I knew there were demons who took note of my swoon,
and who could have arrested the vibration at pleasure. Upon my recovery, too, I
felt very -- oh, inexpressibly sick and weak, as if through long inanition. Long
suffering had nearly annihilated all my ordinary powers of mind. I was an
imbecile -- an idiot.
The
vibration of the pendulum was at right angles to my length. I saw that the
crescent was designed to cross the region of the heart. It would fray the serge of my robe -- it would return and repeat its operations
-- again -- and again. Notwithstanding its terrifically wide sweep (some thirty
feet or more) and the hissing vigor of its descent, sufficient to sunder these
very walls of iron, still the fraying of my robe would be all that, for several
minutes, it would accomplish. And at this thought I paused. I dared not go
farther than this reflection. I dwelt upon it with a pertinacity of attention
-- as if, in so dwelling, I could arrest here the descent of the steel. I
forced myself to ponder upon the sound of the crescent as it should pass across
the garment -- upon the peculiar thrilling sensation which the friction of
cloth produces on the nerves. I pondered upon all this frivolity until my teeth
were on edge.
Down
-- steadily down it crept. I took a frenzied pleasure in contrasting its
downward with its lateral velocity. To the right -- to the left -- far and wide
-- with the shriek of a damned spirit; to my heart with the stealthy pace of
the tiger! I alternately laughed and howled as the one or the other idea grew
predominant.
Down
-- certainly, relentlessly down! It vibrated within three inches of my bosom! I
struggled violently, furiously, to free my left arm. This was free only from
the elbow to the hand. I could reach the latter, from the platter beside me, to
my mouth, with great effort, but no farther. Could I have broken the fastenings
above the elbow, I would have seized and attempted to arrest the pendulum. I
might as well have attempted to arrest an avalanche!
Down
-- still unceasingly -- still inevitably down! I gasped and struggled at each
vibration. I shrunk convulsively at its every sweep. My eyes followed its
outward or upward whirls with the eagerness of the most unmeaning despair; they
closed themselves spasmodically at the descent, although death would have been
a relief, oh! how unspeakable! Still I quivered in
every nerve to think how slight a sinking of the machinery would precipitate
that keen, glistening axe upon my bosom.
I saw
that some ten or twelve vibrations would bring the steel in actual contact with
my robe, and with this observation there suddenly came over my spirit all the
keen, collected calmness of despair. For the first time during many hours -- or
perhaps days -- I thought.
For
many hours the immediate vicinity of the low framework upon which I lay, had
been literally swarming with rats. They were wild, bold, ravenous;
their red eyes glaring upon me as if they waited but for motionlessness on my
part to make me their prey. "To what food," I thought, "have they
been accustomed in the well?"
They
had devoured, in spite of all my efforts to prevent them, all but a small
remnant of the contents of the dish. In their voracity the vermin frequently
fastened their sharp fangs in my fingers. With the particles of the oily and
spicy viand which now remained, I thoroughly rubbed the bandage wherever I
could reach it; then, raising my hand from the floor, I lay breathlessly still.
At
first the ravenous animals were startled and terrified at the change -- at the cessation
of movement. They shrank alarmedly back; many sought
the well. But this was only for a moment. I had not counted in vain upon their
voracity. Observing that I remained without motion, one or two of the boldest
leaped upon the frame-work, and smelt at the surcingle. This seemed the signal
for a general rush. Forth from the well they hurried in fresh troops. They
clung to the wood -- they overran it, and leaped in hundreds upon my person.
Nor
had I erred in my calculations -- nor had I endured in vain. I at length felt
that I was free. The surcingle hung in ribands from
my body. But the stroke of the pendulum already pressed upon my bosom. At a
wave of my hand my deliverers hurried tumultuously away. With a steady movement
-- cautious, sidelong, shrinking, and slow -- I slid from the embrace of the
bandage and beyond the reach of the scimitar. For the moment, at least, I was
free.
Free!
-- and in the grasp of the Inquisition! I had scarcely
stepped from my wooden bed of horror upon the stone floor of the prison, when
the motion of the hellish machine ceased and I beheld it drawn up, by some
invisible force, through the ceiling. This was a lesson which I took
desperately to heart. My every motion was undoubtedly watched. Free! -- I had but
escaped death in one form of agony, to be delivered unto worse than death in
some other. With that thought I rolled my eves nervously around on the barriers
of iron that hemmed me in. Something unusual -- some change which, at first, I
could not appreciate distinctly -- it was obvious, had taken place in the
apartment.
I
have observed that, although the outlines of the figures upon the walls were
sufficiently distinct, yet the colors seemed blurred and indefinite. These
colors had now assumed, and were momentarily assuming, a startling and most
intense brilliancy, that gave to the spectral and fiendish portraitures an
aspect that might have thrilled even firmer nerves than my own. Demon eyes, of
a wild and ghastly vivacity, glared upon me in a thousand directions, where
none had been visible before, and gleamed with the lurid lustre
of a fire that I could not force my imagination to regard as unreal.
Unreal!
-- Even while I breathed there came to my nostrils the breath of the vapour of heated iron! A suffocating odour
pervaded the prison! I panted! I gasped for breath! There could be no doubt of
the design of my tormentors -- oh! most unrelenting! oh! most demoniac of men! I shrank
from the glowing metal to the centre of the cell.
Amid the thought of the fiery destruction that impended, the idea of the
coolness of the well came over my soul like balm. I rushed to its deadly brink.
I threw my straining vision below. The glare from the enkindled roof illumined
its inmost recesses. Yet, for a wild moment, did my spirit refuse to comprehend
the meaning of what I saw. At length it forced -- it wrestled its way into my
soul -- it burned itself in upon my shuddering reason. -- Oh! for a voice to speak! -- oh! horror! -- oh! any
horror but this! With a shriek, I rushed from the margin, and buried my face in
my hands -- weeping bitterly.
The
heat rapidly increased, and once again I looked up, shuddering as with a fit of
the ague. There had been a second change in the cell -- and now the change was
obviously in the form. The room had been square. I saw that two of its iron
angles were now acute -- two, consequently, obtuse. The fearful difference
quickly increased with a low rumbling or moaning sound. In an instant the
apartment had shifted its form into that of a lozenge. But the alteration
stopped not here-I neither hoped nor desired it to stop. I could have clasped
the red walls to my bosom as a garment of eternal peace. "Death," I
said, "any death but that of the pit!" Fool! might
I have not known that into the pit it was the object of the burning iron to
urge me? Could I resist its glow? or, if even that,
could I withstand its pressure And now, flatter and flatter grew the lozenge,
with a rapidity that left me no time for contemplation. Its centre,
and of course, its greatest width, came just over the yawning gulf. I shrank
back -- but the closing walls pressed me resistlessly
onward. At length for my seared and writhing body there was no longer an inch
of foothold on the firm floor of the prison. I struggled
no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final
scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the brink -- I averted my eyes
--
There
was a discordant hum of human voices! There was a loud blast as of many
trumpets! There was a harsh grating as of a thousand thunders! The fiery walls
rushed back! An outstretched arm caught my own as I fell, fainting, into the
abyss. It was that of General Lasalle. The French
army had entered Toledo. The Inquisition was in the hands of its enemies.
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