|
[page 123:]
|
|
|
LOSS OF BREATH.
|
O breathe not, &c.
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. Salmanezer,
as we have it in the holy writings, lay three year [[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 Aristæus declares upon his honor as a gentleman, opened
at last her gates to Psammitticus, 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 [page 124:] 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," &c., are often enough repeated in common conversation; but
it had never occurred to me that the terrible accident of which I speak
could bonâ 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, at any
time, entirely deserted me. In my most ungovernable moods I still
retain
a sense of propriety, et le chemin des passions me conduit — as
Rousseau says it did him — à la philosophie veritable.
Although I could not at first
precisely ascertain
to what degree the occurrence had affected me, I unhesitatingly
determined
to conceal at all events the matter from my wife until farther
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 [page
125:] 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 possession of my
soul
— and even the phantom 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 [page 126:] 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 footstep 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." 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. 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 [page
127:] uneasiness. That Mrs. Lack-o'Breath should admire any
thing 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. Lack-o'Breath? It
is by logic similar to this that true philosophy is enabled to set
misfortune
at defiance. 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 (I had a remarkably sweet breath) of Hewitt's "Seraphic and
Highly-Scented
Extract of Heaven or 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 [page 128:] and the happy. I was
not
long in hesitation. Being naturally quick, I committed to memory the
entire
tragedies of ——, and ——. I had the good fortune to recollect that
in the accentuation of these dramas, or at least of such portion of
them
as is allotted to their heroes, the tones of voice in which I found
myself
deficient were altogether unnecessary, and that 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
tragedies
— 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 straight-jacket — but, good God!
they
never suspected me of having lost my breath.
Having at length put my affairs in
order, I took [page 129:] 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
the
blush the roarings of a Phalarian bull. 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 evidencing the truth of his
suggestion. [page 130:]
Thereupon 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 their determination to endure tamely no
such
impositions for the future, and to proceed no farther with any such
carcases
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
five-and-twenty dollars.
The purchaser took me to his
apartments and
commenced
operations immediately. Having, however, cut off my ears, 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, however, of his
suspicions
with regard to my existence proving ultimately correct, he, in the [page
131:] 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 fulfilment, I
could
not help feeling deeply interested. It was a source 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 further 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 [page
132:] could have spoken had not my mouth been tied up by the
pocket-handkerchief. Consoling myself with this reflection, I was
mentally
repeating some passages of the ——, 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 à la Catalani,
and alighting opposite one another on my visage, betook themselves to
unseemly
and 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.
The mail-robber W———, to whom I bore
a singular
resemblance, was at 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 — a dress 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 [page 133:] 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. W———, who was an acute fellow, perceived his opportunity.
Leaping up 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 opinion that the rascal
(meaning
W———) was after making his escape, (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. My
convulsions
were said to be extraordinary. Several gentlemen swooned, and some
ladies
were carried home in hysterics. Pinxit, too, availed himself of the
opportunity
to retouch, from a sketch taken upon the spot, his admirable painting
of
the "Marsyas flayed alive." [page 134:]
I will endeavor to depict my
sensations upon the
gallows. 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 wrote a treatise upon drunkenness.
Die I certainly did not. The sudden
jerk given to
my neck upon the falling of the drop, merely proved a corrective to the
unfortunate twist afforded me by the gentleman in the coach. Although
my
body certainly was, I had, alas! no breath to be
suspended;
and but for the chafing of the rope, the pressure of the knot under my
ear, and the rapid determination of blood to the brain, I should, I
dare
say, have experienced very little inconvenience.
The latter feeling, however, grew
momently more
painful.
I heard my heart beating with violence — the veins in my hands and
wrists
swelled nearly to bursting — my temples throbbed tempestuously — and I
felt that my eyes were starting from their sockets. Yet when I say that
in spite of all this my sensations were not absolutely intolerable, I
will
not be believed.
There were noises in my ears — first
like the
tolling
of huge bells — then like the beating of a thousand drums — then,
lastly,
like the low, sullen murmurs of the sea. But these noises were very far
from disagreeable.
Although, too, the powers of my mind
were
confused
and distorted, yet I was — strange to say! — well aware of such
confusion
and distortion. I could, with unerring promptitude determine at will in
what [page 135:] particulars my sensations were
correct
— and in what particulars I wandered from the path. I could even feel
with
accuracy how far — to what very point, such wanderings
had
misguided me, but still without the power of correcting my deviations.
I took besides, at the same time, a wild delight in analyzing my
conceptions.*
Memory, which, of all other
faculties, should
have
first taken its departure, seemed on the contrary to have been endowed
with quadrupled power. Each incident of my past life flitted before me
like a shadow. There was not a brick in the building where I was born —
not a dog-leaf in the primer I had thumbed over when a child — not a
tree
in the forest where I hunted when a boy — not a street in the cities I
had traversed when a man — that I did not at that time most palpably
behold.
I could repeat to myself entire lines, passages, chapters, books, from
the studies of my earlier days; and while, I dare say, the crowd around
me were blind with horror, or aghast with awe, I was alternately with
Æschylus,
a demi-god, or with Aristophanes, a frog.
A dreamy delight now took hold upon
my spirit,
and
I imagined that I had been eating opium, or feasting upon the hashish
of
the old assassins. But [page 136:] glimpses of
pure,
unadulterated reason — during which I was still buoyed up by the hope
of
finally escaping that death which hovered like a vulture above me —
were
still caught occasionally by my soul.
By some unusual pressure of the rope
against my
face,
a portion of the cap was chafed away, and I found to my astonishment
that
my powers of vision were not altogether destroyed. A sea of waving
heads
rolled around me. In the intensity of my delight I eyed them with
feelings
of the deepest commiseration, and blessed, as I looked upon the haggard
assembly, the superior benignity of my proper stars.
I now reasoned, rapidly I believe —
profoundly I
am sure — upon principles of common law — propriety of that law
especially,
for which I hung — absurdities in political economy which till then I
had
never been able to acknowledge — dogmas in the old Aristotelians now
generally
denied, but not the less intrinsically true — detestable school
formulæ
in Bourdon, in Garnier, in Lacroix — synonymes in Crabbe —
lunar-lunatic
theories in St. Pierre — falsities in the Pelham novels — beauties in
Vivian
Grey — more than beauties in Vivian Grey — profundity in Vivian Grey —
genius in Vivian Grey — everything in Vivian Grey.
Then came like a
flood,
Coleridge, Kant, Fitche, and Pantheism — then like a deluge, the
Academie,
Pergola, La Scala, San Carlo, Paul, Albert, Noblet, Ronzi Vestris,
Fanny
Bias, and Taglioni.
[page 137 :]
A rapid change was now taking place
in my
sensations.
The last shadows of connection flitted away from my meditations. A
storm
— a tempest of ideas, vast, novel, and soul-stirring, bore my spirit
like
a feather afar off. Confusion crowded upon confusion like a wave upon a
wave. In a very short time Schelling himself would have been satisfied
with my entire loss of self-identity. The crowd became a mass of mere
abstraction.
About this period I became aware of a
heavy fall
and shock — but, although the concussion jarred throughout my frame, I
had not the slightest idea of its having been sustained in my own
proper
person; and thought of it as of an incident peculiar to some other
existence
— an idiosyncrasy belonging to some other Ens.
It was at this moment — as I
afterwards
discovered
— that having been suspended for the full term of execution, it was
thought
proper to remove my body from the gallows — this the more especially as
the real culprit had now been retaken and recognised.
Much sympathy was now exercised in my
behalf —
and
as no one in the city appeared to identify my body, it was ordered that
I should be interred in the public sepulchre early in the following
morning.
I lay, in the meantime, without sign of life — although from the
moment,
I suppose, when the rope was loosened from my neck, a dim consciousness
of my situation oppressed me like the night-mare.
I was laid out in a chamber
sufficiently small,
and
very much encumbered with furniture — yet to me it [page 138:]
appeared of a size to contain the universe. I have never before or
since,
in body or in mind, suffered half so much agony as from that single
idea.
Strange! that the simple conception of abstract magnitude — of infinity
— should have been accompanied with pain. Yet so it was. "With how vast
a difference," said I, "in life and in death — in time and in eternity
— here and hereafter, shall our merest sensations be imbodied!"
The day died away, and I was aware
that it was
growing
dark — yet the same terrible conceit still overwhelmed me. Nor was it
confined
to the boundaries of the apartment — it extended, although in a more
definite
manner, to all objects, and, perhaps I will not be understood in saying
that it extended also to all sentiments. My fingers as they lay
cold, clammy, stiff, and pressing helplessly one against another, were,
in my imagination, swelled to a size according with the proportions of
the Antœus. Every portion of my frame betook of their enormity. The
pieces
of money — I well remember — which being placed upon my eyelids, failed
to keep them effectually closed, seemed huge, interminable
chariot-wheels
of the Olympia, or of the Sun.
Yet it is very singular that I
experienced no
sense
of weight — of gravity. On the contrary I was put to much inconvenience
by that buoyancy — that tantalizing difficulty of keeping down,
which is felt by the swimmer in deep water. Amid the tumult of my
terrors
I laughed with a hearty internal laugh to think what incongruity there
would be — could I arise [page 139:] and walk —
between
the elasticity of my motion, and the mountain of my form.
The night came — and with it a new
crowd of
horrors.
The consciousness of my approaching interment began to assume new
distinctness,
and consistency — yet never for one moment did I imagine that I was
not actually dead.
"This then" — I mentally ejaculated —
"this
darkness
which is palpable, and oppresses with a sense of suffocation — this —
this
— is indeed death. This is death — this is death the terrible —
death the holy. This is the death undergone by Regulus — and equally by
Seneca. Thus — thus, too, shall I always remain — always — always
remain.
Reason is folly, and philosophy a lie. No one will know my sensations,
my horror — my despair. Yet will men still persist in reasoning, and
philosophizing,
and making themselves fools. There is, I find, no hereafter but this.
This
— this — this — is the only eternity! — and what, O Baalzebub! — what
an eternity! — to lie in this vast — this awful void — a hideous,
vague,
and unmeaning anomaly — motionless, yet wishing for motion — powerless,
yet longing for power — forever, forever, and forever!"
But the morning broke at length — and
with its
misty
and gloomy dawn arrived in triple horror the paraphernalia of the
grave.
Then — and not till then — was I fully sensible of the fearful fate
hanging [page 140:] over me. The phantasms of
the night had
faded away with its shadows, and the actual terrors of the yawning tomb
left me no heart for the bug-bear speculations of transcendentalism.
I have before mentioned that my eyes
were but
imperfectly
closed — yet as I could not move them in any degree, those objects
alone
which crossed the direct line of vision were within the sphere of my
comprehension.
But across that line of vision spectral and stealthy figures were
continually
flitting, like the ghosts of Banquo. They were making hurried
preparations
for my interment. First came the coffin which they placed quietly by my
side. Then the undertaker with attendants and a screw-driver. Then a
stout
man whom I could distinctly see and who took hold of my feet — while
one
whom I could only feel lifted me by the head and shoulders. Together
they
placed me in the coffin, and drawing the shroud up over my face
proceeded
to fasten down the lid. One of the screws, missing its proper
direction,
was screwed by the carelessness of the undertaker deep — deep — down
into
my shoulder. A convulsive shudder ran throughout my frame. With what
horror,
with what sickening of heart did I reflect that one minute sooner a
similar
manifestation of life, would, in all probability, have prevented my
inhumation.
But alas! it was now too late, and hope died away within my bosom as I
felt myself lifted upon the shoulders of men — carried down the
stairway
— and thrust within the hearse.
During the brief passage to the
cemetery my
sensations, [page 141:] which for some time had
been lethargic
and dull, assumed, all at once, a degree of intense and unnatural
vivacity
for which I can in no manner account. I could distinctly hear the
restling
of the plumes — the whispers of the attendants — the solemn breathings
of the horses of death. Confined as I was in that narrow and strict
embrace,
I could feel the quicker or slower movement of the procession — the
restlessness
of the driver — the windings of the road as it led us to the right or
to
the left. I could distinguish the peculiar odor of the coffin — the
sharp
acid smell of the steel screws. I could see the texture of the shroud
as
it lay close against my face; and was even conscious of the rapid
variations
in light and shade which the flapping to and fro of the sable hangings
occasioned within the body of the vehicle.
In a short time, however, we arrived
at the place
of sepulture, and I felt myself deposited within the tomb. The entrance
was secured — they 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. Sullenly I
lay at
length,
the quick among the dead — Anacharsis inter Scythas.
From what
I
overheard early in the morning, I was led to believe that the occasions
when the vault was made use of were of very rare occurrence. It [page
142:] was probable that many months might elapse before the
doors of the tomb would be again unbarred — and even should I survive
until
that period, what means could I have more than at present, of making
known
my situation or of escaping from the coffin? I resigned myself,
therefore,
with much tranquillity to my fate, and fell, after many hours, into a
deep
and deathlike sleep.
How long I remained thus is to me a
mystery. When
I awoke my limbs were no longer cramped with the cramp of death — I was
no longer without the power of motion. A very slight exertion was
sufficient
to force off the lid of my prison — for the dampness of the atmosphere
had already occasioned decay in the wood-work around the screws.
My steps as I groped around the sides
of my
habitation
were, however, feeble and uncertain, and I felt all the gnawings of
hunger
with the pains of intolerable thirst. Yet, as time passed away, it is
strange that I experienced little uneasiness from these scourges of the
earth, in comparisons with the more terrible visitations of the fiend Ennui.
Stranger still were the resources by which I endeavored to banish him
from
my presence.
The sepulchre was large and
subdivided into many
compartments, and I busied myself in examining the peculiarities of
their
construction. I determined the length and breadth of my abode. I
counted
and recounted the stones of the masonry. But there were other methods
by
which I endeavored to lighten the tedium of my hours. Feeling my way [page
143:] 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 reflected, 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 towards the right, and
three towards the left. His studies have been confined to the poetry of
Crabbe. He can have had no idea of the wonders 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 died miserably in attempting to smoke [page
144:] a cigar. His was a case in which I feel 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,"
said
I — "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 fore-finger to his nose, and, causing him to assume a sitting
position
upon the ground, held, him thus, at the length of my arm, while I
continued
my soliloquy.
— "Entitled," I repeated, "to no
earthly
commiseration. Who indeed would think of compassionating 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 went early
to college and studied pneumatics. He then came home — talked eternally
— and played upon the French-horn. He patronized the bag-pipes. Captain
Barclay, who walked against Time, would not walk against him.
Windham
and Allbreath were his favorite writers. He died gloriously while
inhaling
gas — levique flatu corrumpitur, like the fama pudicitiae
in Hieronymus.* He was indubitably a" —— [page
145:]
"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 his jaws —
how can you, Mr. Lack-o'Breath, 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 anything — whata [[what
a]] vast
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 one's 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 stagestruck — horrible occurrence! heard of 'catching one's
breath,'
eh? — hold your tongue I tell you! — I caught somebody else's! — had
always
too much of my own — met Blab at the corner of the street — would'nt
give
me a chance for a word — could'nt get in a syllable edgeways —
attacked,
consequently, with epilepsis — Blab made his escape — damn all [page
146:] 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 extravagant joy with which I became
gradually
convinced that the breath so fortunately caught by the gentleman — whom
I soon recognised as my neighbor Windenough — was, in fact, the
identical
expiration mislaid by myself in the conversation with my wife. Time —
place
— and incidental circumstances rendered it a matter beyond question. I
did not, however, immediately release my hold upon Mr. W.'s proboscis —
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 precise 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 [page 147:] 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
respiration
— 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. [page 148:]
Preliminaries being at length
arranged, my
acquaintance
delivered me the respiration — for which — having carefully examined it
— I gave him afterwards 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 all 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
same time involving the interests of a third party whose 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 efficiently 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 an ultra 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. [page
149:]
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 be neither 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 the life of that
philosopher
— advised the erection of a shrine and temple — "to the proper God." |
|
|
|
|
|