The Scarlet Ribbon

by Derry O'Dowd

  ‘Well, then Sean showed us the old, old tower, and into the castle defences. And across the central square, down worn steps lit by a spluttering torch, until, at last, we stood at the very base of the powder tower in a great cavern.’

  James had been painting pictures with his hands for the child, but saw that his eyes were closing, so gathered him closer and laid his son’s head on his chest. Daniel sighed.

  ‘After that, we went to the grand apartments and had music from the Vice-Regal state band, the Dublin city band, the Anacreontic Society, and the Irish Harp ensemble, with their jigs, reels, hornpipes and slow airs - Catherine loved that bit, Daniel. And then we met my friend Surgeon Stone.’

  Daniel was fast asleep, his head heavy on James’s chest. He eased his son off him and laid him back on the bed, tenderly, and kissed his forehead, tucking him in snug once more.

  ‘And Daniel,’ he spoke to the sleeping form below him, ‘she made a pretence of forgetting her gloves, and I went back down into the dark bowels of the castle with her, and she had them with her all along, and she drew me close and we kissed.

  ‘Her lips are so soft, Daniel. I can still feel them on mine.’ He leaned over, blew out the candle, and tiptoed from the room.

  Carissa sat stock-still in the adjoining room, candle long extinguished, the door to her room open to Daniel’s, as always. James had not known she was there, relaxing on her bed, looking out the window at the starry, dreamy sky.

  She slumped down onto her bed, tears flowing, wrapped her arms around herself against the cold loneliness, and turned her face into the pillow, wetting it with her heartache.

  19

  A powder for cleaning the teeth

  Chop up a handful of mint and sage very small. Mix these into a half ounce of the cream of tartar and a quarter ounce of the powder of myrrh. Stir this up well and keep it in a covered jar or a cup. You may rub it onto your teeth once or twice a week.

  Quinn Household Recipes and Remedies Book

  * * *

  Aileen sat on the bed in her sister’s room and watched her, a frown marring her pretty face. All she had heard since she arrived earlier this evening was ‘Catherine this’ and ‘Catherine that’. So different from the conversation they had before her visit, when it seemed like Carissa would turn away rather than say a kind word to the English woman. She had seen Carissa observe Catherine closely, and her sister had obviously taken some of her mannerisms as her own.

  As Aileen watched, Carissa turned and twisted in front of the mirror to get a better view of herself in the new silken gown, her hair up and caught at the back with pearls, a different curve to her cheek, lip and eyelash, thanks to some of Catherine’s beauty remedies. She was even using a powder to clean her teeth. Aileen sighed.

  ‘Catherine thinks I should come out for the Season,’ she said to Aileen, patting her hair as if some of it had escaped its confines.

  ‘Does our kind even do that?’

  ‘What do you mean, “our kind”, Aileen? I am a fine young woman, so Catherine says, and look the part, but I still need to improve my English,’ she twirled a curl around her little finger. The language was difficult to master, as it was without a trace of the cadences and softness of her mother tongue. ‘You should learn it too, Aileen, and then we will both be fine young women.’

  ‘To please ourselves or the English woman? She seems to have made you her pet project and I miss the way my sister used to be.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing, Carissa, nothing.’

  Daniel sat on the floor, playing with the two-masted schooners his father had bought him for his birthday.

  ‘And in the beginning, God created the heavens and the Earth,’ Carissa intoned to her mirror, Bible in her hand, as she addressed an unseen audience, Daniel on the floor with his ships and Aileen on the bed.

  ‘Every evening, would you believe it, we sit and discuss stories from the Bible. First he reads, and then I must follow. Aileen, it is hard, but my English has improved so much.’ She sat on the bed beside her sister. ‘When I say the words as if they were written to be pronounced in Irish, James becomes all agitated, with his face reddening as he tries to conceal his impatience. Peg and Daniel laugh, and then he becomes even more flustered. After that I suddenly remember how to say the words as he spoke them – it’s such fun,’ she laughed.

  ‘So I can hear, sister, and I think you tease and flirt with him all of the time. What about Charles?’

  ‘Not true, not true,’ Carissa blushed, then said softly, ‘and Charles. Aileen, he showed me such attention, but then at the picnic I saw him hold Edward’s hands.’ She turned to the Bible.

  ‘Have you never seen men do that before, Carissa?’

  ‘I don’t know; it just seemed different somehow. But look,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘see, this is how we choose where to read from,’ and she closed her eyes and then opened the book.

  ‘So what does it say, or can you actually read in the absence of James’s guiding hand?’

  Carissa sent her a withering look and began to read. ‘Now Sari, Abram’s wife, bare him no children: and she had a handmaid, an Egyptian, whose name was Hagar.’ She cleared her throat in an exaggerated manner and continued.

  ‘And Sari said unto Abram, Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee go unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain children by her.’ Carissa quickly closed her eyes and chose a new passage from the book.

  James Quinn sat at his desk, writing up the cases from the day. He smiled as he reread the letter that he had received from William Smyley in response to his own. It seemed that the cat Abraham had been busy going forth and multiplying and now William and Eupham were knee deep in black and tabby kittens. Knowing his kind-hearted one-time hosts, he could imagine that the feline babies would stay, unless alternative homes could be found for them.

  He stretched in his seat and smothered a yawn as the voice of a woman came to his ears. Leaving his desk, he opened the door and walked into the corridor.

  The conversation was coming from Carissa’s bedroom, but surely Aileen had bid them all farewell earlier in the day? James knew that Daniel was downstairs helping Peg to make their evening meal. So who was in there with her?

  He walked to her door, and got ready to knock. But his hand fell to his side and he did not call out as he realised that Carissa was alone.

  ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for thy love is better than wine,’ she said in her soft voice. ‘Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely, thy temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks, thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.’

  James turned away, feeling he knew not what, as the beautiful verses of the Songs of Solomon echoed in his mind.

  ‘I did good helping Peg, Daddy. I hope you eat it all up,’ Daniel looked up solemnly at his father, who was seated beside him at the table.

  Peg and Carissa smiled fondly at father and son from their places.

  ‘It is delicious, Daniel. You have a great talent, thank you.’

  ‘I will make it every day,’ the child, mouth full of food, replied.

  James looked around at his son and the women, and remarked, ‘I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk; eat, O friends, and drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.’

  Peg looked on quizzically, lost, as he continued.

  The blood drained from Carissa’s face as she realised that James was quoting from the same pages of the Bible she had just read quietly to herself in her bedroom – he must have overheard her. Oh, the shame. A deep blush rose from her chest and painted her pale complexion with crimson, burning heat.

  ‘How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love,’ said James, as he took more food from the serving bowl.

  Carissa stood up quickly, unable to take any more, and then bolted from the room as her skirts caught on her chair and brought it to
the floor with a clatter. Daniel looked on in amazement and James raised his eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders, all innocence. Peg stared at James and slowly shook her head.

  ‘Carissa didn’t like her food, Daddy?’

  ‘Here present,’ wrote Matthew Carter as the men assembled in the magnificent Library of Trinity College, ‘on this day, the first of the month of October, 1741:

  ‘Master Surgeon Laurence Stone, Physician Ryan, man-midwife practitioners Bartholomew Mosse, Fielding Ould, Thomas Southwell, Matthew Carter and James Quinn, Apothecary John Caldwell.

  ‘For discussion: The plight of women with child in Dublin.’

  ‘In recent times,’ spoke Surgeon Stone, ‘I have become gravely concerned about the plight of our mothers, especially those of the lower orders who deserve our charity. I have toiled for nigh on thirty years at surgery with a fair share of midwifery cases. I can find no room for complacency on the subject of mothers with child in this city.’

  He observed that Carter could not keep pace. ‘Matthew, you may simply enclose the document I submitted to all of you with the details I now lay before you. You are, after all, a man-midwife and not a scribe,’ he smiled at the man seated before him, earnest in his task.

  Matthew looked up and nodded, but continued to write.

  ‘May I call to mind the gracious lady Mrs Mary Mercy, the Lord be good to her soul, who built an alms house, in St Peter’s parish, for poor ladies. As many as twenty could be accommodated at a time, in four large, well-appointed rooms. To my great disappointment, the alms house was turned over to a different use some seven or so years ago.

  ‘And now no beds may be availed of for childbirth in any Dublin hospital. I place this dire matter here before you in the true and certain hope that an answer may be found to these women’s sufferings. I thank you for your forbearance and now would like you to debate the matter.’

  As Surgeon Stone sat, Bartholomew Mosse stood to address the meeting. ‘The misery of the poor women of the city of Dublin, at the time of their lying-in, would scarcely be conceived by anyone who had not been an eyewitness to their wretched circumstances,’ he spoke fervently, with great sincerity.

  ‘Their lodgings are generally in cold garrets, open to every wind, or in damp cellars, subject to floods from excessive rains.’

  ‘What of it, Mosse?’ Physician Ryan, who wished a hasty conclusion to the meeting and appeared even more tetchy than usual, barked out. ‘The difficulties you describe should rightfully be resolved by the Irish Parliament under the direction of the Lord Lieutenant. We bear no responsibility whatsoever in this matter.’

  Matthew dropped his quill to the table, ink spots blossoming over his papers. A quarrel was about to erupt, and Lord, he hated arguments. He rubbed his face, leaving ink there where his hand had touched it.

  ‘Not so, I say. We must fight on behalf of the women,’ Mosse was upset with the physician’s manner. ‘They themselves are destitute of attention, medicines, and often of proper food, so hundreds perish with their little infants, and the community is at once robbed of mother and child. I consider that it is our sacred duty to amend the circumstances placed before you.’

  ‘Such passion, Mosse,’ Physician Ryan leaned back in his chair and tapped his cane noisily on the wooden floor. ‘Perhaps the combustion you exhibit is better suited to the hustings at a political rally. University graduates such as we,’ he paused as if forgetful. ‘Oh of course, mea culpa, I do beg your pardon, dear boy.’ Ryan was fully aware that only he of those present was a university graduate, as the others had served apprenticeships.

  He went on, ‘We of higher learning must remain calm in the face of whatever adversity befalls us. I must tell you, frankly, that I consider the practice of midwifery by male practitioners as a disreputable field of endeavour that should lie entirely in the domain of midwives – with occasional assistance from surgeons and apothecaries.’

  Fielding Ould jumped to his feet and protested, ‘But the College of Physicians was entrusted with the examining and licensing of midwives in its Founding Charter. Can you confirm that during those fifty years only four persons, including some here present, were so examined? I say, sir, that you abrogate on your responsibilities!’

  ‘And you, sir,’ spat back Ryan, ‘may have a licence in midwifery but dare I say that you did not graduate as a physician. The College of Physicians will soon refuse to consult with any or all persons who are not graduates of our college, and that includes most here present. You practise a purely mechanical, laborious art that is derogatory to the dignity of academic medicine.’

  James was on his feet, voice shaking with anger as he spoke, ‘That will be an absurd injustice to commit against man-midwives and will only further harm the women of Dublin.’

  ‘Perhaps you should consider a return to Paris, young man, the city you extol for its virtues in midwifery. From there you may all write to the Lord Lieutenant, as indeed I may do, and at some distant time he may see fit to resolve your anguish.’ Ryan rose to his feet. ‘Meanwhile, gentlemen, adieu, for there is work to be done.’ And with a curt bow he turned and strode down the length of the shelves, full to the brim with academic texts, and out of the library door.

  As the men watched his retreating back, Surgeon Stone raised his hands, saying, ‘Be at ease and remember his words – this is a time for calm in the face of adversity. We have business to conclude here today.’

  And so they settled back into the meeting, Matthew once again happily taking notes as Bartholomew Mosse outlined his great plans to develop a hospital for women in childbirth; a hospital that would be administered and staffed by midwives and man-midwives for the betterment of the women, children and families of Dublin.

  ‘Thank you so much, I loved my birthday meal,’ said James, patting his stomach contentedly, ‘and all my favourites too, how did you know?’ He looked at Peg, Carissa, and Daniel, who were smiling happily at him. ‘Really Peg, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘Well now James, I must tell you, it was all Carissa’s doing, her hard work.’

  James looked at Carissa in astonishment, ‘I had no idea you were such a fine cook. Peg will have to let you prepare our meals more often. Thank you then, Carissa.’ He stood and pushed back his chair, ‘But birthday or no, I still have case notes to write, so I will take my leave and see you all later.’

  Carissa breathed out in relief as he left the room. Peg laughed and turned to Daniel, saying, ‘You were a precious boy, not to give away our little secret.’

  The boy smiled at her, and put his finger to his lip, giggling impishly.

  ‘But Carissa, I am not so sure that you should be doing all the cooking from now on!’

  Earlier that day, Carissa lay on her bed rereading the letter from James’s mother in reply to her own asking what her son’s favourite dishes were, as she wished to cook him a birthday meal. The two women had become very close over the years.

  ‘My dear,’ she read, ‘what a very lovely idea, and how sweet of you to think of it. James has a fondness for many foods, now that I think of it, but he has some special favourites. I shall enclose some recipes with my letter for you.’

  And she had. A fish soup, thick and chunky, with tasty morsels of pollack and salted herring competing for flavour with delicious portions of scallop. ‘To be served with slices of brown bread spread with salty butter to mop up the succulent sauce,’ Mother Quinn had written in her neat hand.

  ‘To be followed by mutton stew, James’s favourite dish. The stew should be cooked from early morning and simmered for hours over a low heat. It will remind him of his childhood when his father came home late, tired and hungry. James would sit on his knee and relish small spoonfuls of the stew and savour every mouthful of his special treat.

  ‘The meat should be so tender that he could suck every last piece off the bone. The potatoes, carrots and onions to be so soft that they fall into the thick rich gravy and enhance it even more.

  ‘With, perhaps,
an extra serving of boiled potatoes, their jackets split open to reveal their floury hearts, to be smothered in butter.

  ‘The dessert, I leave to you, as my son has such a sweet tooth that just about anything will satisfy.’

  Carissa folded the letter neatly and decided to make apple pie with fresh cream from the dairy just around the corner from their home, St Patrick’s Close. Or mouth-watering Irish plum cake. And to follow, the final dish of Dutch cheese, served with buttermilk or green tea.

  ‘Carissa, dear, are you ready? You need to start cooking if it is all to be ready in time,’ Peg’s disembodied voice climbed the stairs to where she lay.

  She left her room and went to the kitchen. Once inside the room, she boldly approached the chopping board.

  ‘Can you kindly remind me which way I carve the meat into nice proper pieces, Peg,’ she asked imploringly.

  Peg looked at her, noting her worried face and hands that twisted the fabric of her skirt between them. She laughed, ‘Why not start with chopping the vegetables, dear, and I will cook the fish and the meat. But you will have to learn more on cookery if you are to one day be married.’ Carissa blushed with embarrassment but said that if Peg would cook for her, she would, in return, take care of Peg’s children. Then she stopped, as it seemed such an unlikely possibility because Peg was a confirmed, happy spinster.

  She looked at Peg and they both laughed as Daniel looked on, bemused, and Carissa bent down to him saying, ‘Not even a whisper to your daddy about Peg helping me out.’ She straightened up. ‘But I will learn, Peg, because I want to be able to cook for my husband, when the proper time comes.’

  20

  To calm a sharp fever

  Take a cup of fine ale and add to it a good spoonful of treacle, a powdered nutmeg, a sprinkling each of salt and Jamaica pepper. Mix these together and take three times every day until the fever does not return.