by Edgar Allan Poe
(1838)
What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?COMUS.
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.
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