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A
Predicament
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 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 exalting, 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) [page 230:] thing (pardon
me,
gentle reader!) in the world — but I am 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 [page 231:] 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
third 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 Singing. Leaning upon the arm of the gallant
Pompey, and
attended
at a respectful 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 [page 232:] the giddy pinnacle and
thence
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 a 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 Alceus passed unscathed, and unwetted,
beneath
the sea. I thought the staircases 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 incident 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! I called Pompey's attention to the
subject,
and he — he agreed with me. There was then no longer [page
233:]
any reasonable room for doubt. The rat had been smelled — and by Diana.
Heavens! shall I ever forget the intense excitement of that 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 often depends! I
thought of myself, and 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 the 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
afterwards 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 [page 234:] it 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
forwards,
and, with his accursed head, striking me full in the —— in the breast,
precipitated
me headlong, together with himself, upon the hard, the filthy, the
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
the 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 still 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 [page 235:] 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 everything 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 — aussi
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
Edinburgh
— the classic Edina. I will confine myself to the momentous details of
my own [page 236:] 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 keyhole, such as we see in the face of 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 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 enemy-werrybor'em. With this he [page
237:]
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
upon
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 upwards 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 [page 238:] 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 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-clack,
click-clack, click-clack, of the clock was the most
melodious
of music in my ears — and occasionally even put me in mind of the
grateful
sermonic harangues of Dr. Morphine. 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. [page 239:] 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:
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. [page 240:] 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
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 three 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 lodged 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 [page 241:] 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
upon 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 acknowledgment in return. Shortly afterwards it made
me
a speech, which I could hear but indistinctly without my 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 compared
me to the hero in Ariosto, who, in the heat of combat, not perceiving
that
he was dead, continued to fight valiantly dead as he was. I remember
that
it used the precise words of the poet:
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 [page 242:] 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 was endeavoring to crack nuts between the lids. Finally, throwing off his overcoat, he made one spring for the staircase and — I never saw him again. I hurled after the scoundrel those vehement words of Demosthenes —
and then turned to the darling of my heart, to the curtailed, the one-eyed, the shaggy-haired Diana. Alas! what 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 — is that the departed spirit, the shade, the ghost of my beloved puppy, which I perceive sitting with a grace and face so melancholy, in the corner? Hearken! for she speaks, and, heavens! it is in the German of Schiller —
Alas! — and are not her words too true?
[page 243:] 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. END OF VOL. I.
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