Loss of Breath

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O Breathe not, etc.
-- Moore's Melodies

THE MOST notorious ill-fortune must in the end yield to the untiring
courage of philosophy -- as the most stubborn city to the ceaseless
vigilance of an enemy. Shalmanezer, as we have it in holy writings,
lay three years before Samaria; yet it fell. Sardanapalus -- see
Diodorus -- maintained himself seven in Nineveh; but to no purpose.
Troy expired at the close of the second lustrum; and Azoth, as
Aristaeus declares upon his honour as a gentleman, opened at last her
gates to Psammetichus, after having barred them for the fifth part of
a century....

"Thou wretch! -- thou vixen! -- thou shrew!" said I to my wife on the
morning after our wedding; "thou witch! -- thou hag! -- thou
whippersnapper -- thou sink of iniquity! -- thou fiery-faced
quintessence of all that is abominable! -- thou -- thou-" here
standing upon tiptoe, seizing her by the throat, and placing my mouth
close to her ear, I was preparing to launch forth a new and more
decided epithet of opprobrium, which should not fail, if ejaculated,
to convince her of her insignificance, when to my extreme horror and
astonishment I discovered that I had lost my breath.

The phrases "I am out of breath," "I have lost my breath," etc., are
often enough repeated in common conversation; but it had never
occurred to me that the terrible accident of which I speak could bona
fide and actually happen! Imagine -- that is if you have a fanciful
turn -- imagine, I say, my wonder -- my consternation -- my despair!

There is a good genius, however, which has never entirely deserted
me. In my most ungovernable moods I still retain a sense of
propriety, et le chemin des passions me conduit -- as Lord Edouard in
the "Julie" says it did him -- a la philosophie veritable.

Although I could not at first precisely ascertain to what degree the
occurence had affected me, I determined at all events to conceal the
matter from my wife, until further experience should discover to me
the extent of this my unheard of calamity. Altering my countenance,
therefore, in a moment, from its bepuffed and distorted appearance,
to an expression of arch and coquettish benignity, I gave my lady a
pat on the one cheek, and a kiss on the other, and without saying one
syllable (Furies! I could not), left her astonished at my drollery,
as I pirouetted out of the room in a Pas de Zephyr.

Behold me then safely ensconced in my private boudoir, a fearful
instance of the ill consequences attending upon irascibility --
alive, with the qualifications of the dead -- dead, with the
propensities of the living -- an anomaly on the face of the earth --
being very calm, yet breathless.

Yes! breathless. I am serious in asserting that my breath was
entirely gone. I could not have stirred with it a feather if my life
had been at issue, or sullied even the delicacy of a mirror. Hard
fate! -- yet there was some alleviation to the first overwhelming
paroxysm of my sorrow. I found, upon trial, that the powers of
utterance which, upon my inability to proceed in the conversation
with my wife, I then concluded to be totally destroyed, were in fact
only partially impeded, and I discovered that had I, at that
interesting crisis, dropped my voice to a singularly deep guttural, I
might still have continued to her the communication of my sentiments;
this pitch of voice (the guttural) depending, I find, not upon the
current of the breath, but upon a certain spasmodic action of the
muscles of the throat.

Throwing myself upon a chair, I remained for some time absorbed in
meditation. My reflections, be sure, were of no consolatory kind. A
thousand vague and lachrymatory fancies took possesion of my soul --
and even the idea of suicide flitted across my brain; but it is a
trait in the perversity of human nature to reject the obvious and the
ready, for the far-distant and equivocal. Thus I shuddered at
self-murder as the most decided of atrocities while the tabby cat
purred strenuously upon the rug, and the very water dog wheezed
assiduously under the table, each taking to itself much merit for the
strength of its lungs, and all obviously done in derision of my own
pulmonary incapacity.

Oppressed with a tumult of vague hopes and fears, I at length heard
the footsteps of my wife descending the staircase. Being now assured
of her absence, I returned with a palpitating heart to the scene of
my disaster.

Carefully locking the door on the inside, I commenced a vigorous
search. It was possible, I thought, that, concealed in some obscure
corner, or lurking in some closet or drawer, might be found the lost
object of my inquiry. It might have a vapory -- it might even have a
tangible form. Most philosophers, upon many points of philosophy, are
still very unphilosophical. William Godwin, however, says in his
"Mandeville," that "invisible things are the only realities," and
this, all will allow, is a case in point. I would have the judicious
reader pause before accusing such asseverations of an undue quantum
of absurdity. Anaxagoras, it will be remembered, maintained that snow

is black, and this I have since found to be the case.

Long and earnestly did I continue the investigation: but the
contemptible reward of my industry and perseverance proved to be only
a set of false teeth, two pair of hips, an eye, and a bundle of
billets-doux from Mr. Windenough to my wife. I might as well here
observe that this confirmation of my lady's partiality for Mr. W.
occasioned me little uneasiness. That Mrs. Lackobreath should admire
anything so dissimilar to myself was a natural and necessary evil. I
am, it is well known, of a robust and corpulent appearance, and at
the same time somewhat diminutive in stature. What wonder, then, that
the lath-like tenuity of my acquaintance, and his altitude, which has
grown into a proverb, should have met with all due estimation in the
eyes of Mrs. Lackobreath. But to return.

My exertions, as I have before said, proved fruitless. Closet after
closet -- drawer after drawer -- corner after corner -- were
scrutinized to no purpose. At one time, however, I thought myself
sure of my prize, having, in rummaging a dressing-case, accidentally
demolished a bottle of Grandjean's Oil of Archangels -- which, as an
agreeable perfume, I here take the liberty of recommending.

With a heavy heart I returned to my boudoir -- there to ponder upon
some method of eluding my wife's penetration, until I could make
arrangements prior to my leaving the country, for to this I had
already made up my mind. In a foreign climate, being unknown, I
might, with some probability of success, endeavor to conceal my
unhappy calamity -- a calamity calculated, even more than beggary, to
estrange the affections of the multitude, and to draw down upon the
wretch the well-merited indignation of the virtuous and the happy. I
was not long in hesitation. Being naturally quick, I committed to
memory the entire tragedy of "Metamora." I had the good fortune to
recollect that in the accentuation of this drama, or at least of such
portion of it as is allotted to the hero, the tones of voice in which
I found myself deficient were altogether unnecessary, and the deep
guttural was expected to reign monotonously throughout.

I practised for some time by the borders of a well frequented marsh;
-- herein, however, having no reference to a similar proceeding of
Demosthenes, but from a design peculiarly and conscientiously my own.
Thus armed at all points, I determined to make my wife believe that I
was suddenly smitten with a passion for the stage. In this, I
succeeded to a miracle; and to every question or suggestion found
myself at liberty to reply in my most frog-like and sepulchral tones
with some passage from the tragedy -- any portion of which, as I soon
took great pleasure in observing, would apply equally well to any
particular subject. It is not to be supposed, however, that in the
delivery of such passages I was found at all deficient in the looking
asquint -- the showing my teeth -- the working my knees -- the
shuffling my feet -- or in any of those unmentionable graces which
are now justly considered the characteristics of a popular performer.
To be sure they spoke of confining me in a strait-jacket -- but, good
God! they never suspected me of having lost my breath.

Having at length put my affairs in order, I took my seat very early
one morning in the mail stage for --, giving it to be understood,
among my acquaintances, that business of the last importance required
my immediate personal attendance in that city.

The coach was crammed to repletion; but in the uncertain twilight the
features of my companions could not be distinguished. Without making
any effectual resistance, I suffered myself to be placed between two
gentlemen of colossal dimensions; while a third, of a size larger,
requesting pardon for the liberty he was about to take, threw himself
upon my body at full length, and falling asleep in an instant,
drowned all my guttural ejaculations for relief, in a snore which
would have put to blush the roarings of the bull of Phalaris. Happily
the state of my respiratory faculties rendered suffocation an
accident entirely out of the question.

As, however, the day broke more distinctly in our approach to the
outskirts of the city, my tormentor, arising and adjusting his
shirt-collar, thanked me in a very friendly manner for my civility.
Seeing that I remained motionless (all my limbs were dislocated and
my head twisted on one side), his apprehensions began to be excited;
and arousing the rest of the passengers, he communicated, in a very
decided manner, his opinion that a dead man had been palmed upon them
during the night for a living and responsible fellow-traveller; here
giving me a thump on the right eye, by way of demonstrating the truth
of his suggestion.

Hereupon all, one after another (there were nine in company),
believed it their duty to pull me by the ear. A young practising
physician, too, having applied a pocket-mirror to my mouth, and found
me without breath, the assertion of my persecutor was pronounced a
true bill; and the whole party expressed a determination to endure
tamely no such impositions for the future, and to proceed no farther
with any such carcasses for the present.

I was here, accordingly, thrown out at the sign of the "Crow" (by
which tavern the coach happened to be passing), without meeting with
any farther accident than the breaking of both my arms, under the
left hind wheel of the vehicle. I must besides do the driver the
justice to state that he did not forget to throw after me the largest
of my trunks, which, unfortunately falling on my head, fractured my
skull in a manner at once interesting and extraordinary.

The landlord of the "Crow," who is a hospitable man, finding that my
trunk contained sufficient to indemnify him for any little trouble he
might take in my behalf, sent forthwith for a surgeon of his
acquaintance, and delivered me to his care with a bill and receipt
for ten dollars.

The purchaser took me to his apartments and commenced operations
immediately. Having cut off my ears, however, he discovered signs of
animation. He now rang the bell, and sent for a neighboring
apothecary with whom to consult in the emergency. In case of his
suspicions with regard to my existence proving ultimately correct,
he, in the meantime, made an incision in my stomach, and removed
several of my viscera for private dissection.

The apothecary had an idea that I was actually dead. This idea I
endeavored to confute, kicking and plunging with all my might, and
making the most furious contortions -- for the operations of the
surgeon had, in a measure, restored me to the possession of my
faculties. All, however, was attributed to the effects of a new
galvanic battery, wherewith the apothecary, who is really a man of
information, performed several curious experiments, in which, from my
personal share in their fulfillment, I could not help feeling deeply
interested. It was a course of mortification to me, nevertheless,
that although I made several attempts at conversation, my powers of
speech were so entirely in abeyance, that I could not even open my
mouth; much less, then, make reply to some ingenious but fanciful
theories of which, under other circumstances, my minute acquaintance
with the Hippocratian pathology would have afforded me a ready
confutation.

Not being able to arrive at a conclusion, the practitioners remanded
me for farther examination. I was taken up into a garret; and the
surgeon's lady having accommodated me with drawers and stockings, the
surgeon himself fastened my hands, and tied up my jaws with a
pocket-handkerchief -- then bolted the door on the outside as he
hurried to his dinner, leaving me alone to silence and to meditation.

I now discovered to my extreme delight that I could have spoken had
not my mouth been tied up with the pocket-handkerchief. Consoling
myself with this reflection, I was mentally repeating some passages
of the "Omnipresence of the Deity," as is my custom before resigning
myself to sleep, when two cats, of a greedy and vituperative turn,
entering at a hole in the wall, leaped up with a flourish a la
Catalani, and alighting opposite one another on my visage, betook
themselves to indecorous contention for the paltry consideration of
my nose.

But, as the loss of his ears proved the means of elevating to the
throne of Cyrus, the Magian or Mige-Gush of Persia, and as the
cutting off his nose gave Zopyrus possession of Babylon, so the loss
of a few ounces of my countenance proved the salvation of my body.
Aroused by the pain, and burning with indignation, I burst, at a
single effort, the fastenings and the bandage. Stalking across the
room I cast a glance of contempt at the belligerents, and throwing
open the sash to their extreme horror and disappointment,
precipitated myself, very dexterously, from the window. this moment
passing from the city jail to the scaffold erected for his execution
in the suburbs. His extreme infirmity and long continued ill health
had obtained him the privilege of remaining unmanacled; and habited
in his gallows costume -- one very similar to my own, -- he lay at
full length in the bottom of the hangman's cart (which happened to be
under the windows of the surgeon at the moment of my precipitation)
without any other guard than the driver, who was asleep, and two
recruits of the sixth infantry, who were drunk.

As ill-luck would have it, I alit upon my feet within the vehicle.
immediately, he bolted out behind, and turning down an alley, was out
of sight in the twinkling of an eye. The recruits, aroused by the
bustle, could not exactly comprehend the merits of the transaction.
Seeing, however, a man, the precise counterpart of the felon,
standing upright in the cart before their eyes, they were of (so they
expressed themselves,) and, having communicated this opinion to one
another, they took each a dram, and then knocked me down with the
butt-ends of their muskets.

It was not long ere we arrived at the place of destination. Of course
nothing could be said in my defence. Hanging was my inevitable fate.
I resigned myself thereto with a feeling half stupid, half
acrimonious. Being little of a cynic, I had all the sentiments of a
dog. The hangman, however, adjusted the noose about my neck. The drop
fell.

I forbear to depict my sensations upon the gallows; although here,
undoubtedly, I could speak to the point, and it is a topic upon which
nothing has been well said. In fact, to write upon such a theme it is
necessary to have been hanged. Every author should confine himself to
matters of experience. Thus Mark Antony composed a treatise upon
getting drunk.

I may just mention, however, that die I did not. My body was, but I
had no breath to be, suspended; and but for the knot under my left
ear (which had the feel of a military stock) I dare say that I should
have experienced very little inconvenience. As for the jerk given to
my neck upon the falling of the drop, it merely proved a corrective
to the twist afforded me by the fat gentleman in the coach.

For good reasons, however, I did my best to give the crowd the worth
of their trouble. My convulsions were said to be extraordinary. My
spasms it would have been difficult to beat. The populace encored.
Several gentlemen swooned; and a multitude of ladies were carried
home in hysterics. Pinxit availed himself of the opportunity to
retouch, from a sketch taken upon the spot, his admirable painting of
the "Marsyas flayed alive."

When I had afforded sufficient amusement, it was thought proper to
remove my body from the gallows; -- this the more especially as the
real culprit had in the meantime been retaken and recognized, a fact
which I was so unlucky as not to know.

Much sympathy was, of course, exercised in my behalf, and as no one
made claim to my corpse, it was ordered that I should be interred in
a public vault.

Here, after due interval, I was deposited. The sexton departed, and I
was left alone. A line of Marston's "Malcontent"-

Death's a good fellow and keeps open house -- struck me at that
moment as a palpable lie.

I knocked off, however, the lid of my coffin, and stepped out. The
place was dreadfully dreary and damp, and I became troubled with
ennui. By way of amusement, I felt my way among the numerous coffins
ranged in order around. I lifted them down, one by one, and breaking
open their lids, busied myself in speculations about the mortality
within.

"This," I soliloquized, tumbling over a carcass, puffy, bloated, and
rotund -- "this has been, no doubt, in every sense of the word, an
unhappy -- an unfortunate man. It has been his terrible lot not to
walk but to waddle -- to pass through life not like a human being,
but like an elephant -- not like a man, but like a rhinoceros.

"His attempts at getting on have been mere abortions, and his
circumgyratory proceedings a palpable failure. Taking a step forward,
it has been his misfortune to take two toward the right, and three
toward the left. His studies have been confined to the poetry of
Crabbe. He can have no idea of the wonder of a pirouette. To him a
pas de papillon has been an abstract conception. He has never
ascended the summit of a hill. He has never viewed from any steeple
the glories of a metropolis. Heat has been his mortal enemy. In the
dog-days his days have been the days of a dog. Therein, he has
dreamed of flames and suffocation -- of mountains upon mountains --
of Pelion upon Ossa. He was short of breath -- to say all in a word,
he was short of breath. He thought it extravagant to play upon wind
instruments. He was the inventor of self-moving fans, wind-sails, and
ventilators. He patronized Du Pont the bellows-maker, and he died
miserably in attempting to smoke a cigar. His was a case in which I
feel a deep interest -- a lot in which I sincerely sympathize.

"But here," -- said I -- "here" -- and I dragged spitefully from its
receptacle a gaunt, tall and peculiar-looking form, whose remarkable
appearance struck me with a sense of unwelcome familiarity -- "here
is a wretch entitled to no earthly commiseration." Thus saying, in
order to obtain a more distinct view of my subject, I applied my
thumb and forefinger to its nose, and causing it to assume a sitting
position upon the ground, held it thus, at the length of my arm,
while I continued my soliloquy.

-"Entitled," I repeated, "to no earthly commiseration. Who indeed
would think of compassioning a shadow? Besides, has he not had his
full share of the blessings of mortality? He was the originator of
tall monuments -- shot-towers -- lightning-rods -- Lombardy poplars.
His treatise upon "Shades and Shadows" has immortalized him. He
edited with distinguished ability the last edition of "South on the
Bones." He went early to college and studied pneumatics. He then came
home, talked eternally, and played upon the French-horn. He
patronized the bagpipes. Captain Barclay, who walked against Time,
would not walk against him. Windham and Allbreath were his favorite
writers, -- his favorite artist, Phiz. He died gloriously while
inhaling gas -- levique flatu corrupitur, like the fama pudicitae in
Hieronymus. {*1} He was indubitably a"--

"How can you? -- how -- can -- you?" -- interrupted the object of my
animadversions, gasping for breath, and tearing off, with a desperate
exertion, the bandage around its jaws -- "how can you, Mr.
Lackobreath, be so infernally cruel as to pinch me in that manner by
the nose? Did you not see how they had fastened up my mouth -- and
you must know -- if you know any thing -- how vast a superfluity of
breath I have to dispose of! If you do not know, however, sit down
and you shall see. In my situation it is really a great relief to be
able to open ones mouth -- to be able to expatiate -- to be able to
communicate with a person like yourself, who do not think yourself
called upon at every period to interrupt the thread of a gentleman's
discourse. Interruptions are annoying and should undoubtedly be
abolished -- don't you think so? -- no reply, I beg you, -- one
person is enough to be speaking at a time. -- I shall be done by and
by, and then you may begin. -- How the devil sir, did you get into
this place? -- not a word I beseech you -- been here some time myself
-- terrible accident! -- heard of it, I suppose? -- awful calamity!
-- walking under your windows -- some short while ago -- about the
time you were stage-struck -- horrible occurrence! -- heard of
"catching one's breath," eh? -- hold your tongue I tell you! -- I
caught somebody elses! -- had always too much of my own -- met Blab
at the corner of the street -- wouldn't give me a chance for a word
-- couldn't get in a syllable edgeways -- attacked, consequently,
with epilepsis -- Blab made his escape -- damn all fools! -- they
took me up for dead, and put me in this place -- pretty doings all of
them! -- heard all you said about me -- every word a lie -- horrible!
-- wonderful -- outrageous! -- hideous! -- incomprehensible! -- et
cetera -- et cetera -- et cetera -- et cetera-"

It is impossible to conceive my astonishment at so unexpected a
discourse, or the joy with which I became gradually convinced that
the breath so fortunately caught by the gentleman (whom I soon
recognized as my neighbor Windenough) was, in fact, the identical
expiration mislaid by myself in the conversation with my wife. Time,
place, and circumstances rendered it a matter beyond question. I did
not at least during the long period in which the inventor of Lombardy
poplars continued to favor me with his explanations.

In this respect I was actuated by that habitual prudence which has
ever been my predominating trait. I reflected that many difficulties
might still lie in the path of my preservation which only extreme
exertion on my part would be able to surmount. Many persons, I
considered, are prone to estimate commodities in their possession --
however valueless to the then proprietor -- however troublesome, or
distressing -- in direct ratio with the advantages to be derived by
others from their attainment, or by themselves from their
abandonment. Might not this be the case with Mr. Windenough? In
displaying anxiety for the breath of which he was at present so
willing to get rid, might I not lay myself open to the exactions of
his avarice? There are scoundrels in this world, I remembered with a
sigh, who will not scruple to take unfair opportunities with even a
next door neighbor, and (this remark is from Epictetus) it is
precisely at that time when men are most anxious to throw off the
burden of their own calamities that they feel the least desirous of
relieving them in others.

Upon considerations similar to these, and still retaining my grasp
upon the nose of Mr. W., I accordingly thought proper to model my
reply.

"Monster!" I began in a tone of the deepest indignation -- "monster
and double-winded idiot! -- dost thou, whom for thine iniquities it
has pleased heaven to accurse with a two-fold respimtion -- dost
thou, I say, presume to address me in the familiar language of an old
acquaintance? -- 'I lie,' forsooth! and 'hold my tongue,' to be sure!
-- pretty conversation indeed, to a gentleman with a single breath!
-- all this, too, when I have it in my power to relieve the calamity
under which thou dost so justly suffer -- to curtail the
superfluities of thine unhappy respiration."

Like Brutus, I paused for a reply -- with which, like a tornado, Mr.
Windenough immediately overwhelmed me. Protestation followed upon
protestation, and apology upon apology. There were no terms with
which he was unwilling to comply, and there were none of which I
failed to take the fullest advantage.

Preliminaries being at length arranged, my acquaintance delivered me
the respiration; for which (having carefully examined it) I gave him
afterward a receipt.

I am aware that by many I shall be held to blame for speaking in a
manner so cursory, of a transaction so impalpable. It will be thought
that I should have entered more minutely, into the details of an
occurrence by which -- and this is very true -- much new light might
be thrown upon a highly interesting branch of physical philosophy.

To all this I am sorry that I cannot reply. A hint is the only answer
which I am permitted to make. There were circumstances -- but I think
it much safer upon consideration to say as little as possible about
an affair so delicate -- so delicate, I repeat, and at the time
involving the interests of a third party whose sulphurous resentment
I have not the least desire, at this moment, of incurring.

We were not long after this necessary arrangement in effecting an
escape from the dungeons of the sepulchre. The united strength of our
resuscitated voices was soon sufficiently apparent. Scissors, the
Whig editor, republished a treatise upon "the nature and origin of
subterranean noises." A reply -- rejoinder -- confutation -- and
justification -- followed in the columns of a Democratic Gazette. It
was not until the opening of the vault to decide the controversy,
that the appearance of Mr. Windenough and myself proved both parties
to have been decidedly in the wrong.

I cannot conclude these details of some very singular passages in a
life at all times sufficiently eventful, without again recalling to
the attention of the reader the merits of that indiscriminate
philosophy which is a sure and ready shield against those shafts of
calamity which can neither be seen, felt nor fully understood. It was
in the spirit of this wisdom that, among the ancient Hebrews, it was
believed the gates of Heaven would be inevitably opened to that
sinner, or saint, who, with good lungs and implicit confidence,
should vociferate the word "Amen!" It was in the spirit of this
wisdom that, when a great plague raged at Athens, and every means had
been in vain attempted for its removal, Epimenides, as Laertius
relates, in his second book, of that philosopher, advised the
erection of a shrine and temple "to the proper God."



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