De Sternuente, or, Of Sneezing

I enjoy fighting off a sneeze. It takes practice and concentration. When the sneeze urge emerges, without warning, the battle is joined. On the side of the sneeze -- dust or some other foreign particles passing through the nasal hairs, reaching  the nasal mucosa, releasing a flood of histamines which irritate the nerve cells and signal the brain to stimulate the trigeminal network and activate the pharyngeal and tracheal muscles, producing a noisy, 100-mile-an-hour blast of microbes and snot. On the side of restraint -- nothing but enormous personal discipline and the desire not to surrender to animal nature. There are some, who are less committed to mind-over-body, who employ the fingertips to pinch the end of the nose, or, alternatively, who press a knuckle against the philtrum, the infranasal depression which Shakespeare, curiously, called "the valley" -- but frankly, when it comes to resisting sternutation, digital success is only half a loaf. It's far more rewarding to think one's way to a rare victory in the lifelong sneezomachia. Not to sneeze is a triumph of the will.

Which is not to assert that a good sneeze gives no pleasure, if a person would give oneself over to it. It's simply that the sneeze, especially one of the window-rattling variety, is entirely anarchic and inartistic, which might be why there is so slight a sneeze literature. Although hard to believe, it's a fact that Puck is the only character in all of Shakespeare's plays who deigns to mention the sneeze, but he weakens its disruptive force by employing the archaism "neeze." The best-known literary sneeze (or, at least, the only one that now comes to mind) occurs in Pope's Rape of the Lock, when Belinda, ravished by Sir Plume's "glittering forfex," throws snuff in the baron's nose. Immediately "with starting tears each eye o'erflows,/ And the high dome re-echoes to his nose."

Snuff artificially stimulates sneezing, which may or may not be be why Michael, Tsar of all the Russians, proposed amputating the noses of snuffers. Michael's contemporary, Pope Urban VIII, merely threatened excommunication. Some say that the practice of saying "God bless you" to sneezers originated with Pope Gregory the Great, and has to do with the superstition that the soul leaves the sneezing body, perhaps nasally.

Why is it that no one ever says "God bless you" to farters, who are as much in need of divine intervention as sneezers. Society demands that farting, though shameful (and belching, though comic), should be controlled; sneezing is, except for the most determined among us, uncontrollable.  

Comments

[Don Z. Block]

Yeah, I know. Couldn't resist.

[Vivian]

I suspect that "suppressing an organism" is a misprint for "suppressing an orgasm."

[Don Z. Block]

I assume that before Carol Park began sneezing into her elbow (in public), she would let it rip in pews and other public places. I like the idea of people in pews being covered by a good one. It teaches them the futility of saying "Bless you," something I refuse to allow my students to say when someone sneezes.

As for suppressing an organism, the only kind I would suppress these days is the one occupying the Oval Office.

[Carol Park]

I can't imagine why anyone would want to suppress a sneeze (to prove what? and to whom?). Perhaps while sitting on a plane or in a movie theater while watching "Contagion" -- especially if sitting on a plane WHILE watching "Contagion" -- would suppression be a good and polite option.

I would argue FOR the art of sneezing. I myself am a Big Sneezer. I've cultivated this skill over a lifetime of sneezing. Some might find it sophomoronic and degrading but I like giving into the urge. Would you suppress an organism?

I know I'm in the minority. Once in church I sneezed so loud, my daughter and boyfriend immediately scooted down the pew away from me, as if they had no idea who I was. And there was nary a "God Bless You" or "Kazoonheight" to be heard. It was like everyone around me had been hit with a stun gun.

I was mad at said daughter & boygriend for ostracizing me (and not saying "Bless you") and they were mad at me for being such an uncouth embarrassment. It was a no-win situation. I just refuse to be English.

I have learned to sneeze into my elbow (in public), which does take some of the fun out of it.

As for farting, I'm totally for suppression.