Hawksmoor

The Coroner now returned into the Room, having gone out for Air, and asked Sir Chris, his Judgment on this poor, poor Girl (as he put it).

It was not self-murther, he replied, and I am induced to believe that she was knocked down with a Blow on her left Ear, from the large Settlement of Blood there (and he pointed to the Head with his little Hammer): after she was fell'd to the Ground by the Blow it is probable, with the Gripe of a strong Hand, that she was throttled, and this to be understood from the Stagnation on both sides of her Neck under her Ears; and from the Settlement of Blood on her Breast, he went on, I am inclined to believe that the person who throttled her rested his Arm on her Breast to gripe the stronger. She is not long Dead, he continu 'd, for although she was found floating upon the Thames, I find no Water in the Stomach, Intestines, Abdomens, Lungs, or cavity of the Thorax.

She did not drown her self for Shame neither, since her Uterus is perfectly free and empty.

I survey'd the woman's Face, flinching as if my own Body had felt the Blows she endured, and then I saw what she had seen: Well Madam, says her Murtherer, I was walking here as I generally do, will you not walk with me a little? And I saw the first Blow and suffer'd the first Agonie of her Pain. He has taken a white Cloath from his Breeches, looks at it, then throws it upon the Ground and his Hand goes around my Throat: You need not be afraid, he whispers, for you will be sure to get what you Want. And now I feel the Torrents of my own Blood surging in my Head.

And so ends your first Anatomy lesson, says Sir Chris, to me, but be pleased to wait now till I have washed my self.

Sir Chris, was always strowling abroad to seek out fresh Wonders, so filling his Head that it had become a pure Cabinet of Curiosities. On one Day he comes in after our Work is complete: Shall we see the sixteen-foot Worm brought from a young Gentleman and now lying in a Bottle at the House of Mr Moor, he asks, or shall we visit the Demoniack new clapp'd up in Bedlam? I advised him that the Worm was smaller than the Prodigy reported, having my self gone to observe it two days before; and, since there is nothing finer in an idle Hour than to make merry among the Lunaticks, I agreed to take that Course and walk with him that Way. We were admitted thro' the iron Gate of Bedlam and, having given Sixpence, turned in thro' another Barricado into the Gallery of the Men's Apartments where there was such a ratling of Chains and drumming of Doors that it made a body's Head ache. The Noise and Roaring, the Swearing and Clamour, the Stench and Nasrinesse, and all the Croud of afflicted Things to be seen there, joyn'd together to make the Place seem a very Emblem of Hell and a kind of Entrance into it.

We walked through with Linnen pressed against our Nostrils, and Sir Chris, gave his bright Glances all around at this assembly of derang'd Creatures. Some of the Mad who peeped through their Wickets were indeed known to him, for he had set them down in his Pocket-book before, and when one magoty-brained Fellow called out Masters, Masters! Sir Chris, murmured to me, Do not turn back but go on a little and see the Conclusion to his Cries. For there were others who, on hearing him, went back to hear what he had to say and, when they came close to his Wicket, he provided them all with a plentifull Bowl of Piss which he cast very successfully amongst them, singing out: I never give Victuals but I give Drink and you're welcome, Gentlemen. He is a merry Fellow, said Sir Chris, with a laugh. Then as we passed down this Passage we were knocked against certain Women of the Town, who gave us Eye-language, since there were many Corners and Closets in Bedlam where they would stop and wait for Custom: indeed it was known as a sure Market for Lechers and Loiterers, for tho' they came in Single they went out by Pairs. This is a Showing-room for Whores, I said.

And what better place for Lust, Sir Chris, replied, than among those whose Wits have fled?

The Singing and Ranting now grew so loud that Sir Chris, said no more to me but motioned me towards the Gate which led into the Gallery of the Women's Apartments. Here we discovered some more unhappy Objects, viz. a Woman who stood with her Back against the Wall crying Come John, Come John, Come John (I believe that to be her Son who is dead, Sir Chris, told me) while another was tearing her Straw in peece-meal, swearing and blaspheming and biting her Grate.

There was yet another talking very merrily at her peeping Hole, but when we came near her she was saying Bread was good with Cheese, and Cheese was good with Bread, and Bread and Cheese were good together. Sir Chris, bent down to listen to her and said Quite so, quite so, before the Stink sent us away from her Cell. We went back into the Mens Apartments where there were others raving of Ships that may fly and silvered Creatures upon the Moon: Their Stories seem to have neither Head nor Tayl to them, Sir Chris, told me, but there is a Grammar in them if I could but Puzzle it out.

This is a mad Age, I replied, and there are many fitter for Bedlam than these here confin'd to a Chain or a dark Room.

A sad Reflection, Nick.

And what little Purpose have we to glory in our Reason, I continu 'd, when the Brain may so suddenly be disorder'd?

Well that may be, that may be, said he hurriedly, but where is our new Demoniack? And he walked up to a Gaoler who he knew by Sight, and begins to converse with him; then he wags his Fingers at me to come forward. The Man is lockt away from the Spectators, he told me when I came up to him, but we are at Liberty to see him if we so please. This placed me in some Fear and Confusion, and I must have turned Pale or seemed Uneasy for Sir Chris, clapped me on the Shoulder saying: He cannot hurt you, Nick, he is in Chains; come, we will visit the Man for a Minute only. And so the Gaoler led us up a back stair-case to the private Chambers of Bedlam where those who are not fit for Entertainment are placed in Confinement. The Creature is in here, the Gaoler told us in a Sombre voice, but be comfortable, Gentlemen, he is nicely tyed.

When we went forward, and our Eyes grew accustomed to the thin Light, we saw the Man lying upon the Ground. In his Fitts, said the Gaoler rolling his Eyes, he has been blown about the Room or born up suddenly from his Chair, and would as like have flown away but the Holders of him hung at his Arms and Legs. At this Sir Chris, smiled but did not show it to the Gaoler. And then, he continu à, he was lain down as if dead upon the Floor as he is now, Sirs, and then without the natural help of Arms or Legs has broken into such wild Curves and Bounces as cannot be described. Sir Chris, looked at the Luna tick but said nothing. And then, he went on, there were amazing hideous Sounds to be heard coming from him -sometimes as of Swine, or Water-mills, or of a Bear, and they mix up into a Peal of Noises. And then Have done, have done, murmured the Creature from the Ground, in a low Voice which affrighted me.

You see that his Lips did not move! exclaimed the Gaoler.

Have done, I said! And the Demoniack rose from the Floor: Sir Chris, and I stepped back a Pace, at which the Man laughed out loud.

Then he paid no more Heed to us: there were Rushes strewed on the Floor to keep his Bones from being broken, and he took them up and handled them as if they had been a Pack of Cards, every way acting the Gamester to the life; then he ordered the Rushes as if they had been Dice, then as if he had been playing at Bowl, with the various Postures of the Bowler.

Sir Chris, looked on silently and at last took out his Pocket-book, at which point the Demoniack spat a Ball of Phlegm at him. Then he began to Speak: The other day I lookt for your Worships Nativity, which lies in the Quadrature of a Magnet, in the Sextile of the Twins that always go in the Shade. Guard yourself from the Horse-flies. And he added: Thus have I puzled all thy Scholarship. At this I laugh'd and the Madman turned to me crying: What more Death still Nick, Nick, Nick, you are my own! At this I was terribly astounded, for he could in no wise have known my name. And in his Madness he called out to me again: Hark ye, you boy! I'll tell you somewhat, one Hawksmoor will this day terribly shake you! Then his Tongue rolled inwards all in a Lump, and his Eye-balls turned backwards, nothing but the White of them being seen. And the Gaoler made Signs for us to leave.