There I was, daydreaming in my favorite chair, when the sweet smell of lilacs wafted through the window. I sniffed and thought, “My nose just gave me a great gift. How sweet! How generous! How adorable!”

Which brings us to this column.

Today, I give you … The Nose. I’ll begin with the gargantuan proboscis belonging to my hero, Cyrano de Bergerac.

The real Cyrano was a French novelist, poet, and duelist (1619-1655) who lived long enough to inspire many fictional characters, none of whom interest me in the least, because the greatest Cyrano de Bergerac of all was the one created by Edmond Rostand for his play of the same name.

Although bold, brilliant, and noble, Cyrano’s love of beauty blinded him to his own value (his friends adored him and women swooned over his words), because he saw himself only through the lens of his enormous nose. He fought battles because of his nose; he made enemies because of his nose; he hid his ardor for his cousin Roxanne because of his nose. Worse yet, not wanting her to be disillusioned by Christian, the handsome but brainless soldier she took as a lover, Cyrano penned passionate letters to Roxanne in Christian’s name, and he nurtured her misguided passion for that less worthy man … all because of his nose.

The story gets even better, but you’ll have to read it yourself – Brian Hooker translation – because nothing I say could possibly measure up.

But first, back to Cyrano. In a favorite scene, he decides that the villainous Count de Guiche has insulted his nose, and so, provokes a duel.

“My nose!

You pug, you knob, you button-head,

Know that I glory in this nose of mine,

For a great nose indicates a great man –

Genial, courteous, intellectual,

Virile, courageous – as I am – and such

As you – poor wretch – will never dare to be

Even in imagination. For that face –

That blank, inglorious concavity

Which my right hands finds – (Cyrano strikes him)

Is as devoid of pride, of poetry,

Of soul, of picturesqueness, of contour,

Of character, of NOSE in short – as that

Which at the end of that limp spine of yours

My left foot – (and Cyrano kicks him in the rump)”

As the story proceeds, Cyrano becomes poor, lean, and lonely. Other writers steal credit for his poems and plays, but he retains his triumphant spirit. In defending the choices he made that had robbed him of material success, he proclaims:

“To sing, to laugh, to dream

To walk in my own way and be alone,

Free, with a voice that means manhood – to cock my hat

Where I choose -- At a word, a Yes, a No

To fight -- or write. To travel any road

Under the sun, under the stars, nor doubt

If fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne –

Never to make a line I have not heard

In my own heart; yet, with all modesty

To say: "My soul, be satisfied with flowers,

With fruit, with weeds even; but gather them

In the one garden you may call your own.”

Good grief! I’ve gone pretty far afield, haven’t I?

To justify the title of this column, I doubtless should return to musing about noses (in general), and my sudden fascination with them (in specific).

Proboscis. Snout. Schnoz. Honker. Snozzle. Snoot. Beak. Nozzle. Let us look at some famous noses of the past. First and foremost: The Roman or aquiline nose, which is high, narrow, and … to my mind, gorgeous. The University of Nottingham relates that in Victorian England, the aquiline nose was described as “the strongest, highest, and most perfect expression of character … a sign of great powers of decision, energy and firmness.”

Another great nose graces the face on the Indian head nickel … also aquiline, but broader … it, too, projects the power ascribed to the Roman nose. But, in profile, it has the added advantage of looking exactly like my father!

My friend Diane drew my attention to a comparatively new portrayal of Sherlock Holmes in a PBS series starring Benedict Cumberbatch. I tried, but after the first few seconds, I just couldn’t watch it. Cumberbatch’s soft, smooth, almost pretty nose robbed the character of all credibility.

Which is one reason why Basil Rathbone’s, with his big, bad, long and bony nose, was the definitive portrayer of the beloved British detective.

Possessors of other great noses include JOHN BARRYMORE: nicknamed “The Profile.” CLEOPATRA: so alluring to Marc Anthony and Julius Caesar that it was said if her nose “had been shorter, the whole face of the earth would have changed.”  W.C. FIELDS: Red, bulbus, and suggestive of having imbibed too much bathtub booze. And PINNOCHIO: Liar. Liar. Pants on Fire.

There are hundreds more examples of great noses, but that’s enough for now. We’ll turn, instead, to what noses can DO. Ears can hear and – on rare individuals – wiggle. Lips can kiss; nothing else really matters. Cheeks can blush and get facelifts. Eyes are pretty interesting, as they blink, cry, see, and express deep emotions. Other than blinking, though, they are essentially immobile.

But noses. Oh, my!

They flare. They sniff. They smell. They express disdain. They drip, sneeze, inhale, exhale, scrunch, snort, and … if you are a witch named Samantha living in the suburbs and you twitch your nose … they can even perform magic!

All of which brings us to our final philosophical observation, somewhat similar to Emily Dickinson’s remark that “the heart wants what it wants.”

Less poetic, but also true: “The nose knows what it knows.”

Copyright © Shelly Reuben, 2024. Shelly Reuben’s books have been nominated for Edgar, Prometheus, and Falcon awards. For more about her writing, visit www.shellyreuben.com