Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631)

by Wolf, Jack

  Immediately, I was reminded of Nathaniel, and his Story of the Labourer who could not perceive Left. Verily, cerebral Damage doth affect the Mind, I thought. Dr Oliver’s Hypothesis may not be incorrect. Erasmus, mistaking my Preoccupation, said: “If you do not wish to watch, Mr Hart, then do not come.”

  “I have not said so,” I replied quickly. “I would not miss it for the World.”

  Erasmus laughed, and answered that he had thought that would be the Case. I finished bandaging the Child, released him into the Care of his Master, and hurried after Erasmus.

  I should have expected that the Procedure would be carried out at the Bethlem, or at St Luke’s in Windmill Street, which was the new mad-House. This Operation, however, I supposed for Dr Oliver’s Convenience, and certainly to mine immense Relief, took Place in the Theatre at St Thomas’s.

  I had not witnessed a Trepanation before, and I was greatly excited. The Operation was now rarely performed, even for an Epilepsy, for the foolish Superstition that had maintained that such Disease resulted from the Imprisonment of Demons and fuliginous Vapours in the Skull had, thankfully, been overturned. However, it was still undertaken on Occasion where there was Cause to believe that such a mental Disorder might have a treatable, mechanical, Origin. I was not surprized, however, that the Surgeon should be Dr Oliver, whom I knew to be profoundly interested in the Question of how Lunaticks might have their lost Wits restored.

  Yet how, I thought, as I watched Dr Oliver, with the Assistance of Erasmus, secure the unprotesting Man upon the Table, and prepare the three-armed Trephine for its Application, can Melancholy result from morbid Tissue? It is not like an Epilepsy, that manifests in violent Shaking of the physical Body. Neither is it like a Paralysis, that may readily be assumed due to Damage to a Nerve. Nor even is it a Distemper of the Senses. Unless verily there be some Truth in the Doctrine of the Humours, it must be a Disease that is intirely mental, having more to do with a Man’s Soule than Matter upon his Cerebrum. Yet Nat’s Labourer had no physical Incapacity—and what of mine own nervous Illness, that seemed so like to very Madness? Had that, as I had pondered, even hoped, its Origin in some Insult to my Brain of which I had lost all Memory? Where doth the Body stop, and Mind begin? Doth the one become the other? Was I poisoned? Was I mad? Or was I evil?

  Mine Head began to spin; I sate down, and for the next half-Houre endeavoured to give my full Attention to the Scene unfolding before me upon the operating Table as Dr Oliver painstakingly removed a circular Section of the Man’s Skull about the Diameter of a Sovereign, and having exposed the thickened and pulsating Meninges of the Brain, endeavoured to stem the Bleeding from the Scalp. But my Concentration was elusive. My Ribs felt as if they had sealed up around mine Heart, and the exhausted Organ fluttered desperate as a Goldfinch in a Flask. I wished that I could have had something to eat before I had arrived. I wished that I could have gone home, to have slept the Sennight out.

  I stumbled out of St Thomas’s at perhaps ten o’ the Clock, and took a Chair all the Way back to Bow Street. I would have eaten when I arrived, but in the Event Sleep was too quick for me, and I succumbed to Slumber in Mr Fielding’s largest Armchair, where I remained until Midnight, when Mary chased me off to Bed.

  The following Fortnight I passt in such a frantick Whirl of Work, much of which was about the dirty Wards, that I clean forgot the trepanning Operation and would never have learned its Outcome had not Erasmus, one Evening in the Shakespeare, remarked that the Patient was great improved. I found these Newes staggering, and plain said so. I did not tell Erasmus, however, that the mad Man’s Face and Name were both as absent from my Memory as if he had never been possesst of either. He, like all the Cases I had witnessed and worked upon, had seemingly become but an ordinary nothing.

  Katherine, to whom I did confess this strange Phenomenon, wrote that she was afraid that I was working My Self sick; but I did not heed her Plea to cut mine Houres.

  Mid May, my Sister wrote to tell me that she was with Child and longing to see me before her Confinement. I tried to respond to her Newes in an encouraging Vein, but in the Event could think of naught to ask, save whether she had made out her Will, so I gave up the Attempt.

  It being a Sundaye, I had taken a few Houres away from my Work about the Hospitals for Church; and with Katherine’s Concern for mine Health lying guilty on my Mind, I had also fashioned for My Self a Distraction, via the Person of Lt. Simmins, whose Address I had easily found out from Dr Oliver’s Associate, and who seemed, to my continuing Wonderment, extreamly pleased to renew our Acquaintanceship. Over the past Fortnight we had exchanged a few Letters, and the Conversation seeming friendly, we had arranged to meet in Person that Afternoon.

  Simmins was settled with several other young Lobsters upon an Inn beneath the Sign of the Dragon near Hampstead. This Inn sate on the main Road into London, and it was to my Surprize that I learned that despite his Emblem the Landlord had put up but feeble Resistance when these young Pillars of the Nation had been foisted on him. Certainly, he must have regretted them, for they did not bring in anything like to the amount of Money their Billet surely cost him.

  I arrived at the Dragon shortly before Noon on Sundaye, and finding Simmins not yet returned, waited in the Tavern opposite the open Door, and took a light Repast, to the Landlord’s Delight; tho’ not to mine own. The Inn put me in mind more of the Bull than any London Establishment, and I thought for a Moment wistfully of Nathaniel. Its low Ceilings were thick with the brown Residue of pipe Smoake; the plastered Walls glittered with horse-Brasses; upon the still Aire lingered the fulsome Scents of Beer and Human Sweat. The Daye being chill, I sate My Self in the shaddowed Recess of a leather Armchair, by the smouldering Fire, and from this Location I watched the Activity in the inn Yard. Simmins returned shortly after Noon, by which Time I was almost finished with my Meal. I heard him before I saw him; that Hesitation, an Extension of Sound at the Beginnings of his Words, unmistakable, despite the Yeares that had passed since I had heard it. He was laughing with one of his fellow Officers over the Reason he had been delayed.

  “There w-as a Fr-acas,” he said. “On the T-yburn R-oad. Didn’t you h-ear? All Passage was bl-ocked for twenty M-inutes, until Captain K-eane arrived with a f-ew of our Fellows and we joined F-orces and gave the Wretches Hell. The Hi-ghway’s damned clear now!”

  There was much Laughter, as Lt. Simmins accepted the Congratulations of his Company. Then came the Clatter of Boots upon the Flags, and the conquering Hero steppt smartly into the dim Tavern. He blinked and looked about him. “Mr H-art!” he cried. “’Tis good to see you!” Striding forwards, he threw his Arms about my Shoulders and gave me an hearty Buss upon the Cheek. My Nostrils filled with the stout Reek of dampe Wool and Gunpowder.

  Little Simmins had grown and altered much in his Appearance, for all that his Stammer had not. He was now almost eighteen, and tho’ he stood many Inches shorter than My Self, he seemed to have compleatly disowned that Aire of helpless Innocence he had worn as a Boy. Now he looked, at least, the Soldier to the Core; smart of Attire, strong and wiry of Build, with an intelligent Look to his Eye and a friendly and humorous Demeanour. His Eyebrows, tho’, were still too wild, and still met in the Middle.

  “What do you think of the F-ood?” Simmins said, noticing the remains of my meat Pie, which lay still upon the Table. “It is bad, is it not?”

  “Yes,” I said, with a Laugh. “It is very bad.”

  Simmins clappt me quite hard upon my Back, and grasped me again in an Embrace so intense it seemed not unlike to the Hugg I had given James Barnaby. “So,” I said, disentangling My Self with Difficulty. “You are with the Regiment. And an Hero, now, to boot.”

  Simmins laughed, but his Nose flushed a brilliant pink. “I am n-not really an Hero,” he said. “Captain Keane is, I think. I d-on’t remember very M-uch, in Truth; ’tis somewhat of a Blur. There was a great Deal of Sm-oake, and I – I – I’m sure I did s-omething, but I don’t know what.” He scratched the Back of
his Neck, perplext. “What a F-ool I am!” he exclaimed. “I may have b-een Heroick, but if I was I re-member nothing of it! What is the Good of that?” He laughed.

  “When did you join up?” I asked, to relieve Simmins’ Embarrassment.

  “Oh,” Simmins said. “My B-enefactor, thro’ whom you found me, bought me my Commission f-our Yeares ago. ’Tis b-etter by f-ar than Sch-ool.”

  “Indeed,” I said. “It doth appear to suit. You have grown up, Simmins.”

  Simmins drew back apace, and in the stark doorway Light I could perceive how keenly he was taking stock of me. Had I changed, I thought, as much as Simmins had?

  As if he had read my Thoughts—or more likely, my Features—Simmins gave a small one-shouldered Shrug, intirely like to that which had long been mine own. Then his Chin came up. “You were not kind to me,” he said. “But it was n-aught I could not st-and. And after you—my F-ather used to b-eat me soundly, before; af-terwards he stoppt altogether.”

  Again that little Shrug. The Effect was eerie; for all the Discrepancy in our Heights and Appearances, I could have been watching mine own younger Self. Then, hard upon it, came the anxious Smile of the little Boy I had tormented. I realised that Simmins wanted me very much to like him. I did. I always had liked him, even when I had terrified him into scrubbing my Boots in the iron Cold of Winter.

  “Do you wish that I should call the Landlord for some Food?” I said. “Perhaps his Steaks are better than his Pies.”

  “If you have a Taste for W-orms,” said Simmins, with a Grimace of Disgust.

  The Landlord’s Cellar being far superior to his Kitchen, Simmins hollered for a Jug of Ale, and so we sate together in companionable Manner for almost an Houre. I asked Simmins his Opinion upon the Condition of the Army, and with what Degree of Success he thought the Country would be able to resist an Encroachment upon her foreign Territories by the French, as appeared imminent.

  “I cannot a-nswer for the State of the Colonials,” Simmins said. “But I know that in too m-any of our Regiments, Discipline is shockingly l-ax. Captain Keane says that this results from the over-Use of the L-ash for trivial Offenses, which leads to poor M-orale among the M-en. Our Colonel, however, is of the opposite Opinion, that Flogging is an intirely n-ecessary Means of C-ontrol upon the common S-oldier.”

  “And Lieutenant Simmins?” I said. “What thinks he?”

  “Men do not join the Army for its K-indness-es,” Simmins said.

  He gave me a strange, sideways Glance. The Tip of his Tongue nestled against his Teeth, lightly, twice. All of a sudden, exactly as it had been with Viviane, I seemed to see Simmins before me, his Hands chained high above his Head, his soft white Back scourged raw and bloody. I caught my Breath.

  Simmins smiled at me from across the Tabletop, and for an half-Second there again was the abortive Embryo of that one-shouldered Shrug: the Devil may care; I do not. His slender Fingers played lightly about the Handle of his pewter Mugg.

  For a Moment I closed mine Eyes, and tensed My Self against the Thunderbolt that must certainly fall from Heaven. But the Almighty did nothing, and of course I opened them up again to see Simmins, still smiling. In his brown Eyes there hovered still that curious Intimation, which seemed to me not unlike the sly Look of a three-Guinea Whore. Yet, as I met his Gaze, it seemed to vanish, as doth a Mist upon the early Sunnelight.

  “Are you quite well, Mr Hart?” Simmins said.

  “I am,” I said. I thought quickly. “I was suffering a Moment of Regret. ’Tis almost an whole Yeare now since I saw the Girl whom I would fain marry.”

  Simmins’ Expression registered Surprize, then Sympathy. “The Separation must be hard on you,” he said.

  “Indeed so,” I answered. “Sometimes it becomes almost impossible to bear.”

  Simmins stretched out his Arm across the Table and covered mine Hand with his own. His Skin was dry and hot; I started; but a tiny Flinch; and hoped that he did not take notice.

  “Let us drink to the Lady,” Simmins said. Taking his Hand from mine, he got to his Feet. “An Health, to—?”

  “To Miss Montague,” I said, scraping back my Chair, my Tankard held aloft.

  At that Moment, a small Number of Simmins’ Fellows, in scarlet Coats and rowdy Spirits, tumbled thro’ the inn Door, and our private Conversation came necessarily to a Close.

  Lt. Simmins’ Cohort were, I discovered, an amiable Crowd. I had no Wish to join them, but I could perceive how any young Surgeon with a more sociable Disposition than mine own might find it a fine thing to be with such a Regiment. I decided that the vile Fancy of mine earlier, unsought, imagining must have been but a passing Phantasm; gave up the Afternoon to Dice and Cards and Drink, and left the Inn in much more chearful Spirits than I had enjoyed for many Weeks.

  Returning to Bow Street, I wrote at once to Katherine, to tell her of my curiously re-initiated Association with Lt. Simmins, and the unexpectedly friendly Nature of the Sentiments we had discovered in each other. But reaching the Point at which, in Life, I had so wretchedly invoked her in a foul Lie, I stoppt abruptly, and put down my Quill.

  Oh! I thought, if only you were here, my Love, then I might tell you all; but what dare I risk in a Letter, that another may steal?

  The restraining Cord within me, which had maintained mine external Silence and my Patience, snappt. I knew at once that should I endure a Sennight more apart from Katherine I knew not what I might do; moreover, that I need not do so. I was very nearly come upon the Time in my Life at which I could, if my Father should withdraw his Support, maintain us both; tho’ truly, as I had said to Erasmus Glass, it was not his Rejection that I feared, but mine Aunt’s Interference. If the Wedding were quick, I thought, and secret, she would have no Opportunity to meddle. The only Consent I would need, besides Katherine’s own, would be that of Mrs Montague; and surely she would not prove difficult to sway.

  The Devil could care for Caution, I thought, and for Cleverness. I dippt my Nib into mine Ink and hoped my bald Words would communicate the Strength of my Passion, and the Urgency of my Question.

  My dearest, darling Brat,

  I can endure this Separation no longer. If it should still appear to you that Bloody Bones is Leonora’s, and Leonora his, then say so again, and we shall put a lawful End to our Suspense. It is within my Power to procure a License and Lodging, and once we are married we will be better placed to confront any Misgivings my Family may express. If they prove implacable, I shall easily find Employment in London. Write me at once, my Love, with your Answer—forgive me the Precipitance of mine Offer—my Feelings have long been known to you—they are unaltered and as strong as ever. I love you; there, I have written it, without Disguise. And I shall continue to love you, Katherine Montague, or I pray Katherine Hart, whatever Alteration Time and Circumstance shall work upon us both.

  My Girl, what say you? I run now to take this to the Post, that it shall be with you as soon as may be, in the Hope that soon you will be here with me.

  I remain, as ever, your Friend,

  Tristan Hart.

  When no Reply to this Letter arrived within the next Daye and an Half, I was disappointed, but not at once alarmed, for there might, I thought, be any Number of Reasons for the Delay. It was possible that the perswasive Arguments I had used upon the Post had not proved as effective as I had thought; perhaps mine own Letter had not been dispatched before the Mondaye. I went about my Work, and wrote to Simmins, inviting him to join me at the Shakespeare when he was able, where I proposed to introduce him to Erasmus. It had occurred to me that it might prove useful to Erasmus to forge a Connexion with the Regiment, and thereby obtain an Employment. My Motive was not intirely generous; I had no Wish for Erasmus to decamp to the Colonies, for I might never then see him after. Also, I had fallen under a strange and powerful Yearning to gather my Friends together in one Place, where I might more easily keep mine Eye upon them. Simmins was more than willing to join us both in the Tavern upon Saturdaye Eve, if Circumstance did no
t succeed, as presently it seemed it might, in keeping Erasmus Knee-deep in Pox.

  When, by the Thursdaye I had still heard nothing from Katherine, I began to fear that she was ill, or worse. There was no one to whom I could turn to inquire after her Health; if she were not ill, but merely prevented by some trivial Circumstance from writing, or if she had not received my Letter, then any Approach I might make to the Ravenscrofts would work against me, and my Fears regarding mine Aunt become a Reality. Then I thought that perhaps the Reason for my Darling’s Silence was that we had been found out, and mine Aunt had exerted her Influence to break us off. I feared that perhaps Katherine had been forbidden to write, and was overlooked, or that she had been sent away without my Knowledge. Then, finally, there broke in upon my Meditations the aweful Conceit that perhaps her Silence was my Punishment for everything I had not told anyone: my Desire to hear Lady B.—— scream in Pain; mine Abuse of Annie; mine Attraction toward Simmins; as if the Thunderbolt that I had dreaded then had struck now in such a Way as to sever the Link between us. If that was the Cause, I thought, then truly Katherine’s Silence was the Work of God—or of the Devil.

  I wrote to her again, from the Hospital, at nine, when I should have been again about Magdalen Ward:

  I am in Hell. If Leonora hath Pity for her Bloody Bones, she must straightway shew it, for in Truth he groweth weaker with every passing Houre, and is begun to dread that he will not live out the Month.

  Darling Katherine, write, write! Even if—God forbid—your Answer should be No. Shew me Grace, and relieve me from this cruel and ruinous Misery to which your strange Reserve contemns me. I have neither eaten nor slept these three Dayes, and I can think of naught but you and of my Fears for you.

  An Bloody Bones were cruel, then ’tis Leonora who should be the crueller, if she were deliberately to keep him in this Dark. I refuse to believe that she is capable of such; I am sure there must be good Reason for this Neglect.