Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631)

by Wolf, Jack

  “I come for the Babe,” she said. “I hope she hath given no Trouble.”

  “Oh!” Mrs Fielding cried, though whether with Relief or Disappointment I could not be sure. “No; no Trouble at all.”

  Mrs Fielding beckoned the Woman inside, and then fetched the Baby in its Swaddling from its Place near the Fire. “You will be careful that she don’t take cold?” Mary said anxiously. “I shall fetch another Blanket, else the poor Mite will freeze.”

  “She won’t freeze,” the Woman said, taking the Baby with a low Laugh that sounded like the Echo of Branches breaking. “We know how to take care of our own, Mrs Fielding.”

  “What is the Child to you?” I demanded, as Mary ran up-Stairs to find a Blanket. “Is she a Grandchild, a Nurseling, or merely a Shilling in your Pocket?”

  At this, and I saw it happen plain as Daye, the old Woman, who had ignored me heretofore, spun about and fixt me with a black Stare that turned into a mocking one when she perceived that I was not intimidated. “She is the Daughter of my Mistress,” she answered. “Who is a great Lady; a Queen among our People.”

  At these Words a sudden Chill ran though my Blood.

  “What is the Lady’s Name?” I asked, altho’ my Tongue resisted me and my Voice was as pale as my Cheek.

  “Merely visiting, weren’t you, my Lovely; visiting; never staying. Tried to run away, didn’t you; but Queen-Mother won’t let pretty Baby go, no, no.”

  “Tell me!”

  The old Woman cocked her Head upon one Side and smiled. “But you know her, Caligula. You may call her Viviane.”

  Then she was gone, and the kitchen Door slamming, and Mary Fielding running down the Stairs; and My Self on my Knees where I had fallen, for I had not the Power to stand.

  * * *

  That Night I lay a long while in a State of Misery. I had sustained a Shock, and altho’ my Senses were not, seemingly, disordered or untrue, my Sensibilities were in utter Ruin.

  The bitter Truth was that I could not verily remember whether I had ravished Viviane. I did not think I had. But I had also thought that I had seen her bodily transform into an Owl. How much Faith could I place in either Recollection? Moreover, the unwonted Visitation of the Child—if it were not—Great God!—my Child—was unintelligible to me.

  At about three I rose, staggered down-Stairs and helped My Self to several Glasses of Mr Fielding’s best Nantes. Feeling somewhat thereby encouraged, I returned to Bed and belatedly began the rational Calculation that would tell me whether it were possible the Child be mine, or not. Mathematics saved me. Even if it had been new born yesterdaye, which it was not, Viviane’s Pup could not have been conceived beneath the Hawthorns on May Morning. January, I thought, was the probable date for its Conception, perhaps even earlier.

  In January, I thought, Viviane must have shared her Favours more than once with Nathaniel Ravenscroft.

  “But if ’twas Nat’s,” I said to My Self, “then why chose she to plague me with it, and not him?” Had she already shewn him the Babe, and he had denied it? Had she sent it to me, in Hopes that I might recognise it out of Guilt, or Fear?

  There was, however, a Flaw in this Logick which I could not ignore, angry and half-fuddled as I was. If Viviane had wanted me to support her Bastard, why had she claimed it back from me at the precise Moment in which I had determined to do exactly that?

  Had that been Viviane’s Game? To send me a small Miracle, and snatch it back, and glory in my Disappointment? To teaze me with the false Supposition that it must be mine, and laugh to think me fallen upon my Knees in Horrour, even as I had forced her upon her own.

  Had I raped Viviane? I thought that I had not. I did not know.

  I needed Mrs Haywood’s. I needed Polly. I needed my Lash.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  If she had intended that I should go mad, Viviane had failed. I did not lose my Wits, nor suffer the Disarray of my Senses that had followed upon my previous Encounter with her and her Kind. Instead, I beat back the Drumming with my Cane and with my Lash, and muffled my Fear beneath the Sound of someone else’s Screaming.

  In the Middle of January I began my Studies in the dissecting Rooms of Dr William Hunter, which were situated in a large House in the Little Piazza of Covent Garden. This Building served also as Lodging for a good many of Dr Hunter’s other Students, some of whom, I discovered, had come from as far away as America. It was an elegant Address, set on several Floors above a vaulted and colonnaded walk-Way which, being paved, covered and open to the Publick was oft-times used by People of the better Sort in Pursuit of an houre’s Exercise. This Quest proved often difficult; the Piazza was frequently so crowded as to make it nigh impossible to walk two abreast. Here congregated the City’s Poor: squinting apple-Sellers carrying Trays of bruised Fruit that had been harvested last Autumn in Hackney Fields, hand-cart Hawkers, kitchen Maids running Errands for the Mistress or the Cook, Poulterers’ Boys, cut-Purses, lame beggar Kids, poxed Whores, half-wild Dogges.

  Dr Hunter’s Lectures took place in a large, bright lit Theatre which in any other Household would have been the drawing Room. It was a cold, echoing, lofty ceilinged Chamber, with two large Fireplaces, neither of which gave out much Heat even when the Fires were high. In the very Centre of the Room stood three long Tables, similar to that one I had in mine own Study, and around these were positioned a Set of hard Benches upon which we Students sate, shivering and all agog to the Words of the esteemed Surgeon.

  Dr Hunter himself was small, fastidious in his Dress and his Habits, and possesst of an ineffable Civility that never failed him. His Bearing was quiet and gentle, yet his Speeches, delivered in his mild Lanarkshire Accent, were given in a clear, calm Manner that was utterly compelling. For all his seeming Meekness, I should not have cared to cross him; I sensed that beneath his courtly Display lay all the Force of a contained Fire. “We Anatomists are combative People,” he said to me a few Dayes after we had met—and I was thrown into such Transports by that inclusive “We” that I did not sleep the Night. “We all appreciate a good Scrap. And we do not like to lose.”

  I was familiar with the Battle to which he was referring, and in which he had no Intention of being bested. Both Dr Hunter and the Brothers Fielding, tho’ of different Motives, were lobbying Parliament to pass a Murder Act proscribing those convicted of that Crime from Christian Burial. Mr Fielding professed Hopes, tho’ they were slight, that so horrible a Punishment might reduce the Number of such unnatural Deaths within the City. Dr Hunter wished rather for a great Increase thereby in the supply of Cadavers, which was presently insufficent for both his own Practice and the Education of his Students. He was cross and apologetic that his current lecture Course, which usually he ran in the Parisian Manner, one Student to a Cadaver, was largely comprised of the Study of Engravings and anatomical Blocks. We should not, he said, be able to work upon fresh Corpses for some unknown Time, as he had fallen out, thro’ no Fault of his own, with the Newgate Undertaker; and tho’ he had sent several Letters to the Press beseeching the Publick to leave their Bodies for Dissection, his Supply had temporarily dried up.

  “Next Yeare,” he said, “once we have our Act inshrined in Law, it will be better. All shall be done in the legal Manner, and even for the Surgeons Hall there need be no more scrabbling to demonstrate Everything upon a single Corpse; all shall be shewn separately: Bones, Veins, Nerves, Digestion, Reproduction. But for now, Gentlemen, we must hope the Gaoler comes quick to his Senses, and struggle forwards in Company with Vesalius and a few Blocks of Wood.”

  I understood both Parts of Dr Hunter’s Frustration, for the Thought of My Self as some Manner of scavenging Scrabbler was deeply unpleasant, and I could not help thinking of those Stories in which Men were murdered for Dissection. However, my Pleasure at finally achieving mine Aim of proper Instruction, and mine Excitement at the Thought of working upon an Human Corpse at all, put such Discontentments from mine Head. The “Blocks of Wood”, of which he had spoken with such Irritation, I disco
vered to be a Number of anatomical Preparations displaying the venous System and many other Structures, preserved upon a wooden Surface beneath a Varnish. These were to mine Eyes Objects of great Beauty, and I was happy to gaze upon them, despite their being twice removed from living Flesh. It was easy for me to perceive how each Structure was formed, and to imagine how it might function; upon the second Evening, whilst looking upon a Block of Breast Tissue, I seemed, for a Moment, to see it as if’t had been vivified by the Motion of the Blood and bodily Fluids, full and perfect white as a Milkmaid’s. Another Evening, he described to us the Condition of the developing Foetus within the Womb, and shewed some early Sketches he had commissioned of it, which he planned to publish as a Series of anatomical Engravings. I remembered those rat Pups I had dissected out of their Mother’s Uterus, and Nathaniel’s strange Suggestion that they were Questions which would never be answered. I could not prevent my Mind from wondering about the pregnant Women who had died.

  One Evening, perhaps a Sennight after the Commencement of his Lectures—for I must confess that after a very few Dayes I ceased to have any Awareness of Time, and knew not whether ’twas Saturdaye or Mondaye—Dr Hunter presented his Audience with a Series of Engravings depicting the internal Structure of the Aortic Artery, and proceeded to discover the Shape and Progression, first recorded, he told us, by Paulus Aegineta, of an Aneurysm. I was not familiar with this Text, or, indeed, the Notion that an Artery may bow and swell beyond its Capacity, like a River bursting from its Banks. Yet the Idea grippt me; and as the great Surgeon continued in his Descriptions of this Condition, I began to ponder upon where else within the Body than the Thorax such Distortions might be found, and what Incapacity might result therefrom.

  At eight o’ the Clock, when the Lecture ended, I waited for the Room to clear, and then I approached Dr Hunter with the Result of my Deliberations, for I had formulated an interesting Hypothesis.

  “Sir,” I said. “In respect of the Question you ask us to consider regarding the possible Cause of a thoracic Aneurysm, I believe that it must be the tremendous Pressure of the Blood as it departs the Heart, which I know from mine own Experiments upon the Bodies of Animals to be very great; but I have a Query of mine own, upon which I would hear, if I may, Sir, your Opinion.”

  Dr Hunter, who was carefully putting his beautifull Etchings into a large Box, straightened up and gave me, at once, his full Attention. I flushed slightly, all at once conscious of My Self, standing in the extream Bright of the empty Theatre, which was lit by so many waxen Candles it appeared like Noon.

  “Sir,” I began, “if ’tis possible for an Artery to tear within the Chest, is it not equally like for it to do so elsewhere, if Circumstances cause the Pressure to be elevated? I was pondering whether, in Cases of sudden Apoplexy, the Cause is not the Rupturing of an arterial Vessel within the Cranium. It seems very likely to me that when a Man is in a Rage, his Jowls reddened and his Eyes bulging, the Pressure in his Skull must undergo dangerous Increase.” I had been somewhat uncharitably remembering the Rector Ravenscroft.

  Dr Hunter regarded me steadily. He seemed surprized, as if he had not been expecting any such Suggestion from me. My Stomach began to squirm. “It is an Hypothesis, merely,” I said. My Voice piped small and reedy in the Vastness of the Chamber.

  “Indeed,” answered Dr Hunter. “And it is a good one. I take it, Mr Hart, that you have read Wepfer’s Apoplexia?”

  I was startled. “No, Sir; I have not heard of it.”

  “Then you should read it; for in it he describes the very Phenomenon you propose. Come, Sir, I shall give you the Loan of it.”

  Once he had finished packing up his Notes and Pictures, in which Endeavour he seemed quite happy to permit me to assist, Dr Hunter led me thro’ the House to his impressive medical Library, and had an Assistant fetch from its high Shelf that Treatise upon Stroake, which he then personally presst into mine Hands. This done, he waved me off quick about my Business, for he had a private Patient to attend forthwith, and he had to change his Location, his Attire and his Manner. “’Twould not do,” he said, “to terrify the poor Lady.”

  Over the following seven Weeks, Dr Hunter lent me many Books, and to mine immense Delight I eventually discovered My Self to be, if not his most preferred Student, among those select Few to whom he intimated that he might offer an Apprenticeship. I dedicated My Self to the Achievement of this Aim, which would necessitate my Presence at the Hospitals of St Bartholomew’s, in Smithfield and St Thomas’s, in Southwark, which were open to the Publick and even facilitated Treatment of Beggars.

  I could not, however, apportion all my Time to formal Study, for I was outwith mine own Laboratory; and altho’ Dr Hunter permitted his Students to use his Facilities for animal Dissection, there were a good many Students, and I had little Desire to fight off all other Takers merely to repeat mine Experiments upon lesser Species. Instead, I continued my Visits to Mrs Haywood’s, and there I was able to observe many physical Prodigies that must otherwise have been beyond my Reach. I did not cause any significant Harm to Polly, altho’ perhaps some of the Scars I left upon her Skin proved longer lasting than I had anticipated. However, I found in her a wondrous compliant Subject for Investigation, and ’twas thro’ her Assistance, and no Dissection whatsoever, that I discovered, intirely for My Self, the Paths traversed by all the major Nerves in the Arms and the lower Legs. At every Squeak and Whimper, the internal Anatomy opened up before mine inner Vision, clear and sharp as an Engraving.

  Thus the Pattern of my Life became established. I gravitated between lecture Room and Brothel, Library and Bedchamber, thinking of nothing but my Studies and my Gratification. Some Dayes I did not see the Sunne.

  * * *

  Shortly before New Yeare, I returned to Bow Street from the Brothel to meet with the exciting Newes that Dr Hunter had finally procured a Cadaver from Newgate, and that from the Mondaye we should work on it for three intire Evenings; longer, if the Corpse should last. I was delighted, and in mine Exuberance I lifted Mrs Fielding, who had delivered the Doctor’s Message into mine Hand, clear off her Feet. Mary squawked in Outrage and thumped me hard upon the Shoulder.

  “For Shame, Mr ’Art,” she said, when I had put her down. “And me a married Woman! You, Sir, ’ave the Manners of a Clod!”

  In Reply, I swept her a deep and courtly Bow, mine Hat tucked under mine Elbow, then dodged quickly out of the drawing Room before she could scold me any farther.

  On the following Mondaye at precisely five o’ Clock, I arrived at Dr Hunter’s Chambers in a State of great Anticipation and Excitability. I could not begin to articulate the Thrill that had possesst me at the Thought of my first Dissection, my first Human Corpse; but my Fingers were a-trembling and mine Heart pounded in my Chest like an huge Gong.

  I had never paid aught but the most minimal Attention to my fellow anatomy Students, so it came as somewhat of a Surprize to me to realise that mine Excitement was shared by the whole Colloquium; about mine Ears the Conversation clamoured. Mr Mills, who was a country Physician in his later thirties, had witnessed an Anatomy performed in Leiden some Yeares earlier, and finding it highly unsatisfactory, had ever since desired the Experience for himself. He had been so seriously displeased that Dr Hunter was not at present teaching in the Paris Manner that he had considered asking for his Sum to be returned, but had changed his Mind. I found My Self disliking him. Mr Glass, with whom he was in Conversation, was the Son of an Apothecary, and he planned, as I did, to become a Surgeon. He was a small Man, some Yeares older than My Self, and well suited his Name. His blue Frock was neat, but not fashionable; his Wigg brown; his Features regular, but not handsome; and his Demeanour quiet. When he spoke, it was in an even, thoughtful Tone that implied that he took great Care in forming his Opinions, and even greater Care in voicing them. He saw Dissection as a most important Step upon his Path, he said. No one, from what I could gather, had mine Experience of Animal Physiology.

  Dr Hunter’s Expression, as he led
us to his lecture Room, was solemn. “Remember, Gentlemen,” he said, “we are not Butchers. Respect and Care, and above all, Observation, are to be the Principles under which we shall operate. Anatomy is the Base, the Foundation, of our modern Medicine, and without it we should still be floundering in the Darknesses of Misapprehension and Ignorance. Make careful and detailed Observations of all that you see; and if an Organ appears to you to be misshapen or diseased, call our Attention to it at once. Work with Diligence and Rectitude, and you will learn more in the next few Dayes than I could teach you otherwise in as many Months.” He smiled. “And do not drop anything. I’ll have none of Mr Hogarth’s Quackery in here, Sirs!”

  This provoked a general Laugh amongst those of the Company who were familiar with Hogarth’s Opinions. I did not join in. Dr Hunter’s Words had inspired me suddenly to fear that I should be the Student who disgraced him, and mortified My Self, by making a slap-dash Butchery of the Business. I had the horrifying Premonition that I should slop the Liver on my Foot and then slip Arse over Tip upon the bloody Floor. God grant not! I thought. No; in that Room, there will be no more diligent a Student than Tristan Hart.

  Dr Hunter then led us all into his Theatre, into which the Last of the spring Sunnelight was streaming thro’ the large, locked, Windows. The twin Fireplaces were empty. An unusual Odour clouded the unmoving Aire, colouring its Chill. Dust Motes danced upon slowly spiralling Vapours. Behind me, somebody coughed, and I saw Mr Mills put up an Handkerchief to his Nostrils. In the Centre of the Room, upon the largest of the black oaken Tables, and wrappt in a white muslin Sheet so that I could perceive naught but its Outline, lay an Human Corpse. Silence fell upon us all as we regarded it.