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[page 241:]
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A
PREDICAMENT.
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What chance, good lady, hath bereft
you thus? — COMUS.
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 IT was a quient
[[quiet]] and
still afternon [[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 word
[[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 [page 242:] 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 riband 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 [page 243:]
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 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
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, [page 244:] 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,
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 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 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,
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 still alive. I fancied that it stood on end with
indignation.
Thus the happydandy Flos Aeris of Java bears, it is said, a
beautiful
flower, which will live when [page 245:] 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 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 — 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 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 [page 246:] 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, [page 247:] 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-clack, click-slack
[[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. 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, [page 248:] 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!
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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 [page 249:] 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 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 afterwards 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;
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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 [page 250:] 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? Harken!
for
she speaks, and, heavens! it is in the German of Schiller —
"Unt stubby duk, so stubby dun
Duk she! duk she!"
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Alas! and are not her words too true?
And if I died at least I died
For thee — for thee.
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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. |
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