Professional Documents
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Design For Drama.1
Design For Drama.1
By
Edgar Allan Poe
Adapted for radio by Helaine MichaelsKlein
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THE BLACK CAT
CHARACTERS
ANNOUNCER
IGNATIUS GROPEE (NARRATOR)
MRS. GROPER
LANDLORD
1ST POLICE OFFICER
2ND POLICE OFFICER
THREE PEOPLE IN CROWD
ANNOUNCER: Edgar Allan Poe showed, in his Tales of the Grotesque and
Arabsesque, that he had a deep knowledge of the inner man, especially of
the darker side of human nature. “The Black Cat,” one of the stories in that
collection, and the one that we are about to hear, illustrates how the evil
forces within one man, Ignatius Groper, came to prevail completely over
his conscience.
MUSIC—up and under
IGNATIUS GROPER: From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity
of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to
make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and
was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent
most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing
them. This peculiarity of character grew, and, in my manhood, I derived
from it one of my principal sources of pleasure.
To those who have cher
ished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the
trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus
derivable.
I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not
uncongenial
with my own.
MRS. GROPER: Dearest, come my love, I have a surprise for you.
MR. GROPER: Oh, you’re too good to me. What is it today?
MR. GROPER: Yes, he does have a fine coat of black fur and he’s so huge.
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MRS. GROPER: What shall we name him?
MR. GROPER: Well, my dear, that is, after all, fitting. He is all black, represen
tative of darkness or death.
MRS. GROPER: Oh, all right. Since it is the first name come to mind. Pluto he
shall be.
Pluto was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended
me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could
prevent him from following me through the streets.
MR. GROPER: Pluto, stop cavorting after me. Go home.
PLUTO: Meow
MR. GROPER: Do you hear me? Turn around and go home.
PLUTO: Meow
MR. GROPER: All right then. Come along. What difference does it make? No
one will notice you.
Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my
general temperament and character—through the instrumentality of the Fiend
Intemperance, alcohol,—had experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I
grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings
of others.
MR. GROPER: (growling) Where are my slippers? Where did you put my slip
pers, you wench?
MRS. GROPER: Did you look under the bed?
MR. GROPER: What would they be doing under the bed? Why can’t they be
where I left them. Come here you miserable, ugly, disgusting, beastly
woman... take that. (he strikes her)
MRS. GROPER: (crying out) Oh. Oh. Help, help, someone, he’s going to kill me.
(screaming) Help!
MR. GROPER: Shut up, you bloody fiend. They’ll hear you in the next town.
My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition also.
I not only neglected, but illused them. For Pluto, however, I still retained suf
ficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of
maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when, by accident, or
through affection, they came in my way. But my disease grew upon me—for
what disease is like Alcohol!—and at length even Pluto, who was now becom
ing old, and consequently somewhat peevish—even Pluto began to experience
the effects of my ill temper.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts
about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him:
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MR. GROPER: Come here you beast, I’ll show you who’s boss. Take that you
fiend, (cat screeches) You see this little penknife—small, but sharp, sharp
enough to take out your bloody eye. Come closer beast. There! (cat screams)
There you monster. You won’t be peering at me so much anymore.
I blush, I burn, I shudder, when I think of that. When reason returned with
the morning—when I had slept off the fumes of the night’s debauch—I expe
rienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I
had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul
remained untouched. I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine
all memory of the deed.
In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye pre
sented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer
any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in
extreme terror at my approach. One morning, in cold blood, I slipped a noose
about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree;—hung it with the tears stream
ing from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart;—hung it because
I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of
offence;—hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin—a
deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it—if such a
thing were possible—even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most
Merciful and Most Terrible God.
On the night of the day on which this most cruel deed was done, I was
aroused from sleep by the cry of fire.
(Sound effect—blazing fire)
MRS. GROPER: Ignatius, oh Ignatius, look the curtains are on fire.
MR. GROPER: The curtains. You dumb woman, it’s not just the curtains. The
entire house is on fire. We’ve got to get out of here, follow me. Hurry,
down these steps. Come on, come on. A little farther, a little more. There
now, we’re out... safe.
MRS. GROPER: (crying) Oh the house. Look—there won’t be anything left. How
horrible; we’ve lost all our worldly possessions. What will we do?
MR. GROPER: Our entire wealth swallowed up. Soon after that conflagration, I
resigned myself to a lifetime of despair.
On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one
exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment wall, not
very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had
rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted
the action of the fire—a fact which I attributed to its having been recently
spread. About this wall a dense crowd were collected:
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VOICE NO. 1: Look at that, isn’t it strange.
Many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with very
minute and eager attention. I approached and saw, as if graven in basrelief
upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given
with an accuracy truly marvelous. There was a rope about the animal’s neck.
When I first beheld this apparition—for I could scarcely regard it as less—my
wonder and my terror were extreme.
We quickly found shelter in a small, humble apartment, not too far from
where our house had stood. For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm
of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a halfsenti
ment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far as to regret the loss of
the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitu
ally frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar
appearance, with which to supply its place.
One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my atten
tion was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one
of the immense hogsheads of gin, or of rum, which constituted the chief furni
ture of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead
for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not
sooner perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my
hand.
MR. GROPER: Do my eyes deceive me? But the resemblance is uncanny. You
must be Pluto. But how can you be? Come closer, (meow sound) Oh but
there is a difference. Pluto was completely black. You, you monster, your
entire breast is white. Here, allow me to pet you. (strong purring sound)
Why you seem to be quite fond of me? How would you like to come home
with me? Oh, there’s the landlord. Do you belong to him? I shall ask.
Excuse me, but does this animal belong to you?
LANDLORD: No, I’ve never seen the beast before in my life.
MR. GROPER: I was going to offer to purchase him, but if you have no claim to
him, I shall just take him home.
LANDLORD: Suit yourself.
When I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accom
pany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I
proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and
became immediatel y a great favorite with my wife.
MRS. GROPER: Oh, where did you find him? He’s absolutely lovely, (purring
sound) (laughing) How wonderful, he likes me too!
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I discovered on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also
had been deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however, only
endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high
degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait,
and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.
With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to
increase. It followed my footsteps everywhere. Whenever I sat, it would
crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loath
some caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus near
ly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber,
in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I longed to destroy it with
a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of my former
crime, but chiefly—let me confess it at once—by absolute dread of the beast.
MRS. GROPER: It really is amazing. The only difference between this charming
cat and Pluto is his shock of white hair. Otherwise, they are absolutel
y
identical in every way.
MR. GROPER: Yes, isn’t it interesting indeed? You know, the white outline seems
to be taking shape. It is starting to look like something.
I shudder to name what it was beginning to resemble. It was now the
representation of, the image of a hideous, ghastly thing—of the Gallows!
Alas! Neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of rest any more. During
the former the creature left me no moment alone, and in the latter I started
hourly from dreams of unutterable fear to find the hot breath of the thing upon
my face, and its vast weight—an incarnate nightmare that I had no power to
shake off—incumbent eternally upon my heart.
Beneath the pressure of torments such as these the feeble remnant of the
good within me succumbed. Evil thought became my sole intimates—the
darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper
increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while from the sudden,
frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly aban
doned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas, was the most usual and the most
patient of sufferers.
One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cel
lar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat fol
lowed me down the steep stairs, and nearly throwing me headlong, exasperat
ed me to madness.
MR. GROPER: Get out of my way, you fiend. Let me get this axe right over here.
Let me at that fiend.
MRS. GROPER: No, don’t you dare. Give me that axe. Don’t you dare hurt him.
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MR. GROPER: Get out of my way woman, or, or, I’ll let you have it too.
MRS. GROPER: Give me that axe. Give me (he strikes her on the head) give
...give...(she slumps down the stairs to her death)
The hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire
deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove
it from the house, either by day or by night, without the risk of being observed
by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind. At one period I thought of
cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. At
another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I delib
erated about casting it in the well in the yard—packing it in a box, as if mer
chandise, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from
the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than
either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar, as the monks of the
Middle Ages are recorded to have walled up their victims.
For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were
loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough
plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening.
Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or
fireplace, that had been filled up and made to resemble the rest of the cellar. I
had no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at this point, insert the
corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye could detect any thing
suspicious.
And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar I eas
ily dislodged the bricks, and having carefully deposited the body against the
inner wall, I propped it in that position, while with little trouble I relaid the
whole structure as it originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair,
with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be distin
guished from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new brick
work. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not
present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the
floor was picked up with the minutest care. I looked around triumphantly.
Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain. I, then, looked around for
the beast which had been the cause of so much wretchedness, but I could not
find him anywhere. I was relieved not to find him and that night I slept very
soundly even with the burden of murder upon my soul. Three days passed and
once again I breathed as a free man. Upon the fourth day of the assassination,
a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded
again to make rigorous investigation of the premises.
POLICE OFFICER: Mr. Groper, would you mind assisting us in our search? After
all, you know the house so well.
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MR. GROPER: No trouble at all officer. But I have been searching and I am
almost resigned to the fact that I shall never see my beloved dearest again.
She just disappeared, it seems, into thin air.
2ND POLICE OFFICER: Let’s go down into the cellar, if you will permit us.
MR. GROPER: Of course. This way—follow me. (sound effects—footsteps
descending cellar steps.)
POLICE OFFICER: (knocking on walls) Well, it isn’t very big down here.
Certainly doesn’t look as though there’s anything suspicious.
MR. GROPER: Gentlemen, I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you
all good health.
POLICE OFFICER: Mr. Groper, if you don’t mind my inquiring, of what material
is this house constructed? It appears to be very solid.
MR. GROPER: Officer, you are correct indeed. This is a very wellconstructed
house, I may say an excellently wellconstructed house. These walls are
solidly put together. (raps on walls with a cane)
MRS. GROPER’S VOICE: (faintly) Help, help. (this leads to sobbing, and then,
shrieking)
Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the
wall. For one instant the party on the stairs remained motionless,
opposite
through extermity of terror and awe. In the next a dozen stout arms were toil
ing at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted
with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red
extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had
seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the
hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb.
For the most wild yet most homely narrative which I just told you, I nei
ther expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case
where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not—and very
do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I unburdened my soul.
surely
MUSIC—CREDITS
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