The Coroner's Daughter

by Andrew Hughes

  ‘I have just finished showing the gentlemen around my workrooms and library,’ Father told me.

  I sat next to James and opposite the professor, a tureen of vegetable broth between us. ‘He was kind to do so,’ Reeves said, ‘since our arrival was unannounced. I was impressed by the tools of your profession, Mr Lawless, and the precision behind your work.’

  Father picked up a periodical that lay beside his plate and handed it to me. ‘But in truth, the professor came because of this.’

  It was the latest edition of the Royal Society journal, opened at its letters page. My observations of the sunspots – signed off with Father’s name – was the most prominent, and even though all three men were looking at me, I couldn’t help but scan through it to ensure that it had not been edited.

  ‘I had intended to congratulate your father on his contribution,’ Professor Reeves said, ‘when lo and behold . . .’

  Father looked at me. ‘I tried to keep up the pretence, but my knowledge was sorely lacking.’

  ‘It is wonderful to find a young lady with such interest, and such insight.’

  James had been polishing his soup spoon with a napkin. He peered at its concave side for a moment as if checking his own reflection. ‘And what did you write about, Miss Lawless?’

  The professor turned to him. ‘Have you not read it?’

  ‘I didn’t get the chance.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, feeling my face become warm, ‘ever since the sunspots became visible, it has been common, even for men of learning, to blame them for the peculiar weather.’

  ‘At least they do not call them a harbinger of the world’s end, as some in the city have been quick to do.’ A slight scowl settled over the professor’s features, but it left almost at once, and he bowed his head. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘It is just that 1761 and 1783 were well known for the number of sunspots, without any noticeable fall in temperature. Today they have captured the imagination simply because they are visible in the dimming effects of the haze.’

  ‘I very much liked your theory on what has caused the fog.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, slightly more at ease. ‘I had read accounts of similar weather thirty years ago: the sun turning blood red, a mist that closed the ports in England, then spread to Paris and Prague. People at the time blamed volcanoes in Iceland, which had erupted the previous year. So I looked for reports of recent eruptions.’

  I was directing my answer to James, who already seemed to be losing interest. He took a sip of broth and raised one eyebrow, possibly not in appreciation.

  The professor nodded his encouragement. ‘And?’

  ‘Tambora in the Dutch East Indies. They said its explosion was heard a thousand miles away, and a huge area around the summit was plunged into darkness for several days.’

  Reeves looked out at a portion of sky visible above the roof of the coach house. ‘To think that we may be seeing the remnants of that event.’ He remained still, as if lost in thought, though his eyes were focused on something in the distance. ‘I have heard of more unusual notions,’ he said, returning his attention to the table. ‘That the haze was created by gunpowder from the European wars, or the result of forest fires in America.’

  ‘Perhaps they were close to the truth.’

  ‘That is generous of you. Your idea, I think, has more validity. But we can at least discount sunspots as the source of our miserable summer.’ He took up the journal once more. ‘I enjoyed your final line, rebuking those who are so alarmed. “When real evils are numerous, we ought not to create imaginary evils.” ’

  It was embarrassing to have it read back to me. ‘I thought there was more chance of being noticed if it ended with some rhetorical flourish.’

  ‘And you were right.’

  ‘Have you ever studied the sunspots, professor? Do you know why they appear?’

  ‘Who can say? Opaque bodies swimming on the liquid matter of the sun, perhaps, or the impact craters of comets. I mentioned that to a lady of my acquaintance, who could not tolerate the idea that God would construct a solar system with such little precision that celestial bodies were forever colliding with one another. She found the whole notion repugnant.’

  James looked up. ‘Who was this?’

  ‘Lady Ogilvie in Lucan.’

  He shook his head. ‘A tedious family. Her son a doctor of divinity, and three daughters indistinguishable behind their white caps and prayer books.’

  I said to the professor, ‘Did you ever direct Lady Ogilvie’s attention to the surface of the moon?’

  He smiled and said, ‘I doubt that it would do any good. The minds of the devout are not for turning.’

  Mrs Perrin came in to clear the soup bowls, taking care with Mr Caulfeild’s as it was still nearly full. Kathy followed with plates of cold meat and cheese, and another decanter of wine. A silence had settled over the table, so I turned to James and said, ‘I am very much looking forward to the ball in Charlemont House next month, Mr Caulfeild. Will you still be in Dublin?’

  ‘I believe so. My studies have finished in London, and I have taken up a position at the observatory. I shall be here for quite some time.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ I said, knowing that Clarissa would be pleased. I could almost feel her pinching me to mention her name, so that he might remember. ‘Miss Egan and I shall both be in attendance.’

  He frowned slightly, and I said, ‘Reverend Egan’s daughter, Clarissa.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Is she not a friend of Miss Gould in Fitzwilliam Square? I seem to remember they were inseparable when I visited last year.’

  I had been there also, at a levee to mark Edith’s coming out. That was before Mr Darby’s church had become prominent, and already it seemed a more colourful, carefree time.

  ‘All three of us were friends,’ I said. ‘Though Edith has been keeping different company of late.’

  ‘Yes,’James said, flatly. ‘So I believe.’

  Father asked him what his duties would entail in the observatory, and he replied, ‘As yet, I do not know. Whatever the professor demands.’

  Reeves folded his napkin on the table. ‘It has been some time since my last assistant moved on, so I can scarcely think of tasks to assign, but I am sure we shall have a productive summer.’

  As the lunch passed, the professor asked Father about his work as coroner, posing his questions with a frank curiosity that made him appear more youthful. Father was happy to answer, expounding on the use of the skull-chisel while deftly slicing the white flesh of a chicken breast. Eventually, James took a pocket watch from his waistcoat and said that it was time they were leaving. ‘We are expected in the Royal Academy shortly.’

  ‘I have been asked to give a lecture,’ Reeves said. ‘“On perturbations in the orbit of the Georgian Planet”. Very dull, I fear, but you would both be welcome if you wish to come.’

  I knew Father preferred to avoid the Academy and the interminable intrigues of its members, and I saw him straighten his mouth, the way he did when he was about to refuse something, so I interjected.

  ‘We’d be delighted.’

  ‘Well,’ Father said, ‘it is very kind, professor. But would Abigail be allowed to attend?’

  ‘Oh, yes. There is no official bar on females. It is just a habit they have fallen into. There is even talk of electing Caroline Herschel as an honorary member.’

  I thought that unlikely considering the Academy’s history with regard to women. When it was founded, one of its most prominent antiquarians was Charlotte Brooke, who translated Gaelic poetry into English. She fell on hard times, and members of the Academy wondered what they could do to improve her situation. They decided to appoint her housekeeper of the Academy premises.

  ‘It is settled then,’ I said.

  Father looked at me. ‘Yes, it would appear so. We shall follow you there, gentlemen.’

  As we crossed the city in the carriage, I wondered if I should tell Father of my visit to Mrs Longsworth an
d the things she’d said. I knew that he considered the inquest into Emilie’s death closed, the verdict delivered, and he would be upset with me for continuing to interfere. I would keep the information to myself for now, at least until I could find something more.

  Liam let us off by the steps of the Academy building on Grafton Street, and we hurried through a dark-oak door into a hallway lit by candelabra. Several gentlemen were ambling up a staircase towards a room on the second floor. A porter greeted my father and gave me an enquiring look, as if I had wandered from the street in error. He took our coats to a cloakroom, where I saw him hang my felt cap among the black tricornes and toppers.

  The room upstairs was lofty enough to have a mezzanine level, each wall covered in books with gold-leaf lettering. Stained-glass windows were decorated with images of science and industry: hammers and tongs, clockworks and escapements, the burners and glassware of a chemist’s laboratory. Rows of chairs had been set out before a raised stage and lectern. Father was waylaid by someone, so I went to claim two seats next to a grey-haired gentleman with a protruding lip like that of a scolded child.

  A doorway near the stage opened, and Reeves and Caulfeild made their way to the lectern. They watched the crowd assemble, and seemed to take note of certain individuals.

  The gentleman beside me leaned towards my shoulder. ‘I must say, I’m rather vexed to see you here,’ he said, though there was humour in his eyes.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I have to write a report for the Transactions, and I already had my first line prepared: “A very respectable association of gentlemen were pleased to attend the Royal Astronomer on such and such date . . .”’ He glanced at me. ‘Saying “an association of gentlemen and one lady” is rather more clumsy.’

  ‘Perhaps another woman will come.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘In any case, it is not a trend to be encouraged. I remember in London years ago, attendance at lectures in the Royal Institute became a fashionable pursuit in some circles. Ladies would scramble for seats as though they were boxes at the theatre, which was all very well, but if you could only hear the clamour of their tongues!’ He closed his eyes briefly, as if the noise still assailed him. ‘The eloquence and learning of the speakers was often lost in the din.’

  He looked at me as though he expected sympathy for this ordeal.

  ‘I have become adept at holding my tongue,’ I said.

  ‘I am glad to hear it.’ He introduced himself as Mr Brinkley, and when I told him my name, he asked, ‘Is your father the Doctor of Physic in Cork University?’

  ‘No, he is the coroner here in Dublin.’

  ‘I am thinking of someone else entirely.’

  The porter was just about to close the main doors to the hall when four men entered, dressed much alike in dark coats and white cravats. They took seats near the back, underneath the mezzanine.

  Brinkley was regarding the stage. ‘I wonder why Lord Charlemont’s son is up there with Reeves.’

  ‘Mr Caulfeild is his new assistant at the observatory.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘The professor told me himself.’

  Brinkley’s mouth turned down on both sides, as if he were impressed by this first-hand knowledge.

  A surprising choice,’ he said.

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Well, only in comparison to his previous assistant. It was years ago now, Reeves took in a young man, a Trinity student who had shown great promise but who had fallen on hard times after expulsion from the college. If not for Reeves, he would have found himself on the streets.’

  ‘What had he done to be expelled?’

  ‘An ill-advised experiment with electrical currents. He constructed a Voltaic pile of such power that when it discharged he managed to maim himself and several others, and burn down a lecture theatre, as well as an extensive collection of pinned moths from New South Wales.’

  ‘Goodness.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And Professor Reeves was willing to employ him?’

  ‘He took the view that one cannot make breakfast without addling eggs, that it was only fair to give the young man a second chance. And when Reeves is convinced that an action is justified, he will not be dissuaded from carrying it out. A rather admirable trait.’

  Everyone in the room had settled in their seats, including Father, who had come to join me. James left the professor on stage, and took a chair in the front row. The Academy president, Earl Bury, stood up and introduced the lecture, welcoming old friends and new faces, and inviting the professor to begin.

  Reeves took a moment to straighten his notes on the lectern.

  He spoke in the same manner as he had done at the dining table, his voice only loud enough to fill the room. He described how Descartes had proposed that the world and all the planets were carried around the sun in vortices of ethereal fluid, just as chips of wood are carried in a whirlpool. ‘By this system, the moon and every secondary planet has its vortex, every falling body has its current to urge it towards the earth, requiring such a clash and interference of forces as must produce universal confusion. Even Newton could not untangle the multitude of influences that heavenly bodies should exert on each other. “It is not to be conceived,” he said, “that mere mechanical causes could give birth to so many regular motions. This most beautiful system of the sun, planets and comets could only proceed from the counsel and dominion of an intelligent and powerful being.”’

  He surveyed the audience for a moment. ‘If you ever read the Principia, you may notice that the only time Newton invokes God is when he has reached the limits of his own understanding. I am pleased to say that the mechanics of these subtle influences, these perturbations, are no longer a mystery. With new theories, and new mathematics, we can explain the discrepancies in the orbit of the Georgian planet, and God need not form part of our hypothesis.’

  Brinkley glanced around the room. He whispered to me, ‘I’ll have to remember that quote for my report.’

  One of the men at the back of the hall stood up. ‘Professor Reeves,’ he said, ‘may I ask you a question?’

  The professor began to say that he would prefer to take queries at the end of the lecture, but the man spoke over him. ‘You wrote recently that in your view the age of the earth was not four thousand years before the birth of Christ, but that it could be several hundred thousand, or millions of years old.’

  ‘Yes. What of it?’

  ‘Do you not feel that it is an insult to this body that you falsify and misrepresent the word of God to such a degree? You can only inspire horror at the blasphemy of your utterances.’

  James Caulfeild turned in his seat to glare at the speaker. Reeves remained impassive. He leaned his forearm on the lectern for a moment, and seemed to be composing some response, but then he smiled to himself and shook his head.

  ‘I shall continue with my remarks.’

  Another voice yelled, ‘Do not ignore the question,’ and several others followed suit, not just from the back of the room, but from rows close to where Father and I were sitting. Earl Bury got to his feet. He turned with his arms outstretched. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, waiting for the voices to subside. ‘This is not how we conduct our business.’

  ‘I thought this was a debating chamber,’ someone said. Each voice came from a different person, but they sounded alike, high in volume and tinged with unmerited outrage.

  Bury said, ‘Professor Reeves can debate any point he wishes. But first he must be allowed to deliver his lecture without interruption.’

  ‘If we allow him to go unchallenged now, if we give him this platform, we may as well say that the Academy endorses every one of his vile beliefs.’

  Reeves leafed through some of his papers. He dabbed a forefinger with his tongue and removed one page from the sheaf to place at the back.

  ‘I need not remind you,’ Bury said, ‘that the Academy, as a body, is not answerable for any opinion, or representation of fa
cts, or train of reasoning that may be uttered here. The speakers alone are responsible for the content of their lectures.’

  Now James was on his feet. ‘How can you suggest that the professor must answer for anything? You take the side of these zealots by entertaining their absurd demands.’

  ‘I only wish to provide an opportunity for Professor Reeves to finish his remarks. Then anyone may challenge him if they wish.’

  ‘But this lecture has nothing to do with the age of the earth. Their only wish is to be disruptive.’

  The original speaker said, ‘No one should be allowed to occupy that stage if he intends to utter falsehood, no matter the subject. It is harmful to the reputation of the Academy, harmful to the religious life of the city.’

  I elbowed Father in the arm. ‘Say something.’

  He glanced down at me, ‘What would you have me say?’

  ‘Defend the professor from these attacks.’

  ‘He is well capable of defending himself.’

  The man came out from beneath the mezzanine and stood in the weak light from the stained-glass windows. ‘I say it again, you cannot wilfully and contemptuously falsify the word of God. We shall not allow it.’

  ‘I believe that I know the word of God better than you,’ Reeves said.

  ‘You cannot possibly.’

  ‘I fear it is true, and not just in the way you imagine. I was bid to read the Bible over and again when I was a child, and much to my sorrow, I can summon any verse. If I had read in any other book, “Happy is he that dasheth thy little ones against the rock,” I would have set it aside with revulsion.’

  ‘You are distorting scripture again,’ the man said, and others began to speak, but Reeves would not be silent, and he raised his voice to speak over them.

  ‘What kind of society would counsel that a slave submit himself to his master, or that a woman learn in silence and subjugation, as your book commands?’ He folded his papers on the lectern and set them aside. ‘You see, I do know the true word of God, written for all to see in the workings of nature, in a language that you cannot corrupt or falsify or suppress,’ he said, extending an index finger towards his critics. ‘It speaks to all nations and to all people equally, and reveals everything that we need to know the mind of our creator.’