The Medea Complex (12 page)

Dr Savage

March 11
^th
, 1886

Royal Bethlem Hospital

“I see Geoffrey has not found himself yet,” Tuke muses,
gesturing to a long haired man whom is crouched by the side of a rose bush,
digging a hole with his bare hands. “He might be a good candidate for my work,
Savage.”Seeing us, Geoffrey waves enthusiastically for a moment before resuming
a compulsion of some twenty years hence.

“He's already been hypnotised on numerous occasions;
unsuccessfully, I might add, by Mr Smith.”

“Mr Smith from the Royal Psychical Society, I presume?”

“The one and only,” I say, glancing around the garden with
some frustration. “I wonder if we should ask him for a third opinion regarding
Lady Stanbury's most odd revelation.” Under a deep somnambulistic state, Lady
Stanbury told us about the night of the murder, and her disclosure was most
disturbing. “Is it possible she was telling the truth?”

Tuke tuts.

“No, Stanbury. She seemed an excellent fit for hypnosis;
suffering from amnesia, but once again, the experiment failed. Do you honestly
think a woman of such means and breeding would be capable of such an atrocity?
You and I both know that a deep hypnotic state is capable; indeed, likely in
some subjects, of producing hallucinations. Some people are incapable of being
hypnotised at all, yourself being one of them. Therefore, I wouldn't hold any
particular credence to it. After all, she had all of the physical symptoms of
puerperal mania, did she not?”

“She did, “I say, yet feeling strangely unsure of my
assertion.

“Well there you go, my friend. When you hear hooves, don’t
go looking for zebras. If I was you, I'd order a good bout of hydrotherapy for
her, and be done with it.”Tuke dismisses me, and gestures to Geoffrey.
“Geoffrey, young man, how is you on this fine and pleasant morning?”

“Sir, I think I've finally found meself. I’m under that
there bush, right over there. Can you 'ell me dig meself up?”

Tuke looks to me and smiles. The man is filthy, his face and
fingernails blackened with soil and all manners of dirt.

“I'm an old man, Geoffrey. I shan't be doing any digging at
all. If I did, I fully expect it would be my own grave I should fall into once
I was finished!”

Geoffrey frowns.

“Do ye suppose I’m dead then, Sir? Could that me my very own
body buried under there?”He looks around him. “P'raps I should leave meself
there then, like. I don’t fancy see'in me own body if it’s dead.”

“How about going inside and having a nice pot of tea
instead?”

Geoffrey licks his lips, a white circle appearing around
them as he does so.

“I'll do that Sir, what a good idea! Have a good day,
gentlemen.”He walks away from us, making an odd sort of snorting sound.

Tuke is a good doctor, despite being out of practice with
patients for over twenty years. His health is failing, and I don't like to
admit to myself that I shan't be seeing my friend for very much longer. I
suspect that Lady Stanbury will be the last case he consults upon.

“Get that sad look off your face, Savage. I know what you're
thinking; I've known you for long enough. You can't fool an older and wiser man
than yourself. I'm rather looking forward to meeting my saviour, and I've lived
a good, decent life. In his good grace has he allowed me to live this long, and
I thank him every day for it. The retreat will live on in my absence, and
provide decades of assistance to those that need it. I have completed my
legacy. Now, what suppose we go and finish our notes on the young Lady, and
then retire ourselves?”

“Coffee for me, but it sounds like a marvellous idea, my
friend,” I say, putting my arm around his shoulders, shuddering when I feel his
arthritic shoulder creak under my hand, Lady Stanbury's final words echoing
inside my mind.

"Remember, Savage: even the insane are made in the
image of God. We might not understand his plan, but he has one. Geoffrey will
find himself in heaven."

Will he?

Will she?

'I did it because I love my child. Wouldn't any mother
care to do the same? I didn't feel guilty when the blood ran over my hands, yet
neither did I feel vindicated. I just felt I had protected my child in the only
way I knew how.'

Anne

March 20
^th
, 1886

Royal Bethlem Hospital

"Argh!"I yell at Fat Ruth. "Why don't you put
your own filthy, stinking backside of a horse in here instead? Argh!"My
head is dunked again, and the coldness of the water numbs both my skin and my
senses. Her fat hands release my head, and I splutter at the surface, enraged.
How dare she instigate such cruel treatment, against anyone, for any reason?
"What exactly are you trying to do, kill me?"I scream.

"How I would love to Anne, but no, I'm not. This is a
treatment for crazy people, and will restore you to sanity. Plus, I remember
well you pouring your filth over me, and I think a girl such as you needs to
learn some cleanliness."I am dunked once more. Underneath the frigid water
all sound disappears, apart from the heartbeat pounding in my ears. Dear lord,
how is this supposed to make anybody well? The coldness turns into a thousand
hot pins, pricking my skin all over.

"This is enough to make a sane person insane!"I
yell when the pressure on my head is relieved for mere seconds. "You fat,
fiendish elephant!"  Back under I go. I don’t know how many times this
happens, nor do I have any sense of how long I am kept in the ice cold water.
Long enough for me to start daydreaming, I can feel my grasp on consciousness
ebbing. I’m drowning. The white glazed tiles covering the walls start to turn
grey and fuzzy.

Hands grab me, lift me, and start rubbing me roughly with a
towel. "This towel stinks!"I manage to shout, but my voice is muffled
by another towel promptly wrapped around my head.

Oh, what a sight I must appear. Wet, bedraggled, naked, and
covered head to toe in towels that have never been washed, whilst two women
man-handle me. Thank god there is nobody here to witness this indignity. I
shall be shunned from society, have my name removed from guest lists; I shall
never be married…

"Ruth!" a female voice calls from the doorway.
"What are you doing to Anne?"

"Doctors orders," comes Fat Ruth's reply, muffled
to my ears through the towel. "Treatment. Restores blood flow to the
brain, don’t you know."

"I didn't see any orders to this effect," says the
voice. The towel around my head is removed, and I am face to face with Agnes.

“Well, he made them!” replies Fat Ruth, defensively.
“Perhaps you were too busy fawning over your little woman, here.”

"Bonjour!"I say with genuine pleasure.

"Hello, Anne,"Agnus says. Her face looks sad, and
a little concerned. "You'll be coming with me now."

"She stays with me," says Fat Ruth.

"No, she's coming with me, unless you would prefer me
to report what I just witnessed to Dr Savage this afternoon?"

Fat Ruth smirks. "As you like. I don’t know why I
bother; honestly, it’s like working in a leper colony. Except she's worse. Take
her. She’s nothing but a dirty baby killer."

The words hit me like a thunderbolt, and the coldness ebbing
inside of me is nothing compared to the frostiness upon my skin.

My soul turns to ice.

"It is her misfortune, Ruth: not her crime. Come on
Anne, let's go."Agnus takes me by my hands, and quickly leads me out of
the cold tiled bathroom, along the corridor, and into my room. Bundling me onto
the bed, she momentarily disappears, only to swiftly reappear with a bundle of
folded clean linen.

"Quickly, before you catch your death," she says
softly, and starts to dress me as you would a child. I sit still and meek, and
let her twist and turn my limbs into the clothes. When she is finished, some
semblance of warmth starts to return to my body. I still can't feel my fingers
nor toes, though. I tell her as much.

"Your extremities will be the last to warm up,
Anne,"Agnus replies. "At the moment, your body is trying to preserve
and divert heat to your internal organs, and I imagine you are also in a slight
state of hypothermia. I cannot warm you up too quickly, I'm sorry. It's
dangerous if I do."

Nodding, I turn my face up to meet her gaze. I can trust
this woman. Now, I am sure of it. Her kindness is unfounded to date, she knows
me only as a murderer of my child. She knew who I was, and what I had done, yet
she gave me nothing but compassion, and showed only kindness. Why would she
help me? I’m not sure, but I do know that she is through and through, a good
person. Unlike me.

"Why are you helping me, Agnus? You know I killed my
baby."I tell her. It comes out in a whisper.

"Anne, you remember?"Agnus looks shocked and
uncomfortable. “Was it the hypnosis?”

"When Fat Ruth called me a, a, baby killer, I
remembered, "I said. "I don’t remember anything from the session with
that man. Hypnotised, was I? I don’t know. It was almost as if, with the shock
of being so cold, and hearing Fat Ruth's words, the past came back somehow."I
start to cry. "Oh god, what did I do? Why?"I start sobbing and
hiccupping.

Agnus holds me close and rocks me for some time, until my
snuffling and weeping subsides.

"Anne. Bad things happen to people, and people happen
to do bad things. I truly believe you are one of the former. A bad thing
happened to you, in the form of puerperal insanity."

"Pardon?"

"Take a look around you. Tell me where we are."

I study my surroundings. My room. A mattress with worn brown
blankets. An empty chamberpot. A small window with bars on. Yellow walls.

"Oh God, oh dear Lord, I'm going to rot in prison! I
deserve so!"

"Anne, you are not in a prison, nor are you a
prisoner."

Agnus then regales me with my initial diagnosis, complete
with all medical minutiae, 'So far as I understand it, Anne, I am but a nurse';
she tells me everything about my admission, including my adamancy that I had
been kidnapped, and all key events that have led me up to this point. She
reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small thin book. I read the title: 'The
Handbook For The Instruction Of Attendants On The Insane.' This is my bible,
Anne. I assure you once again I am a nurse, and you are in a hospital."

For the insane, yes.

"And what of my darling husband, what of him?" I
ask her. I am terrified of her answer, I am sure he would have filed for
divorce. No doubt I am now impoverished.

Agnus cracks a small smile. "Your husband is a true
gentleman Anne, and he loves you unwaveringly. He has offered you nothing but
support, and blames you not for the death of your child."

I don't believe it.

"How can he not blame me?"I fling myself
melodramatically backwards onto the mattress. Looking at the ceiling, I say:
"My baby, my baby John, I killed him, I deserve to die a thousand deaths
and burn in hell."

"Anne, this is fantastic progress. But now that you
remember, you need to start the long, painful process of grieving. Eventually
all that guilt and hurt inside of you will become something manageable,
something understandable; from there you can return to your husband, and you
can go on with your life and live a long and fulfilling many years outside of
these walls. Remaining here, doing penance for a crime that is not your fault
will never bring John back, and will grieve your husband much." Agnus pulls
me up and looks straight into my eyes. "Do you love your husband,
Anne?"

"Yes."

"Then you must get well for him," she says
sternly. "You must put aside your egocentric self pity; you must get these
delusions of grandeur such as suffering in hell as atonement for your sins
right out of your head. Staying here won't help you, it won't help your
husband, and it will never bring John back to you. But it will kill your
husband, for I am sure he would die of a broken heart if you were not returned
to him one day soon."

I understand. This is the breaking point. I know what to do.

"Can I speak with Dr Savage? I have something important
to tell him. I am sane."

She smiles at me and smoothes my face with her hand.

"That's my girl."

“Agnus?”

“Yes?”

“There's one more thing.”

“What's that?”

“I think I've just started my courses again.”

She peeks underneath the nightgown.

“Yes, you have. This is fantastic news, Anne. Absolutely
fantastic!”

As she runs from the cell to fetch me a woman's towel, I sit
back and smile.

Dr George Savage

March 20th, 1886

Royal Bethlem Hospital

Today I found Anne possessed of a most
positive disposition. During our meeting, she answered questions thoughtfully
with an evident insight into her past insanity whilst displaying an accurate
awareness of her present orientation. She is logical in her thinking, and has
clearly re-established in her memory the chain of events that brought her to
Bethlem. She is able to face and accept what happened that night in Asquith
House, and recollect what happened before. What became clear to me during our
discussion is that which conspired against Anne to predispose her to puerperal
mania both before and during her pregnancy.

Anne was clearly distressed following the
miscarriage she suffered before her son was born, and it is in my professional
opinion that this grievance left Anne extremely susceptible to future mental
problems. I do not believe that she fully mourned the loss of her first child,
and when faced with her second pregnancy, she thereupon read any and all
literature she could lay her hands on with regards to midwifery and childbirth
in a misguided attempt to keep the second baby safe; naturally, given her
history of reading since she was but a child. This in turn filled her mind with
apprehensions at to the horrors that might be in store for her, and she thus
developed a cerebral disturbance. She tells me that she has always read since
she was a child: growing up in an environment that secluded her from peers of
her own age made her seek to find comfort inside books instead of with people. 
This constant and voracious reading is a contributing factor. It is for this
reason women should not educate themselves beyond affairs of the home. 

As the pregnancy progressed she developed
nervous disturbances ranging from mild irritability and crossness, to upsets
and fretfulness. These conditions of which she displayed were unfortunately
dismissed by her midwife and doctor at the time, being wrongly interpreted as a
natural response to the excitement, discomfort and trepidation associated with
pregnancy and childbirth, rather than an indication of the onset of a severe
mental illness.

Anne confesses to me that on more than one
occasion, she voiced her concerns with the midwife, and was simply told to
acquire an air of serenity, cheerfulness and good humour 'essential to her own
health and that of her offspring. Whilst this was in no way bad advice, this
demonstrates to me that Anne's declining mental state was certainly overlooked
in its initial stages of decline. The abrupt loss of her milk was noted by the
midwife, but no real concern was raised over this.

In the present day, I find her mania
symptoms much receded: her flesh is no longer loose, her complexion no longer
sallow, her tongue no longer tremulous. Her appetite is great and is satisfied.
Her menstruation has recommenced, she sleeps well at night, and no longer
harbours delusions of persecution nor experiences hallucinations.  Her memory
has returned in full. She now accepts that she has suffered an attack of the
senses.

I find Anne both respectable and
redeemable after her period of rest and rehabilitation here at the Royal
Bethlem Hospital.

Recommendation: discharge to Witley at
earliest convenience.

A letter stating such to be sent to the
Home Office regarding a possible release date.

Satisfied, I lean back on my chair and throw my pen on the
desk. This is what I have been waiting for, this moment. A knock on my door
disturbs me.

"Please, enter."I call.

The door opens, and standing in the doorway are Ruth and
Agnus, my two best nurses. Ruth looks rather angry, and Agnus appears defiant.
My, what is it now?

"Dr Savage, this is utterly disgusting!" Ruth
shakes her head and marches up to my desk. Her bosom heaving, she points a
finger in my face and opens her mouth like a fish, only to close it when she
apparently loses her train of thought. Her face is red with suppressed rage.
Agnus looks to Ruth, and nodding her head at me in indulgent understanding,
sits down quietly.

"Ruth is somewhat agitated, Sir."Agnus says a hint
of a smile hiding underneath her serious facade.

"That I can see, Nurse Agnus. Nurse Ruth, whatever ails
you? Come, sit, before you pop a vein in that head of yours."

Ruth turns a deeper shade of red, and glares at Agnus.

"I shall sit, Sir, in a moment."

"As you please."I tell her.

Agnus looks to the floor, and I swear her shoulders are
twitching. Ruth looks to me and reluctantly sits.

"Again, I ask you Nurse Ruth: what ails you this
morning?"

"That Anne!"

"Lady Stanbury, you mean?"I stand up. “And I
believe she is a person, not an object to be referred to as ‘that’. Nurse Ruth,
do not get ahead of yourself, I believe it is both prudent and necessary for
you to address a Lady by her given title: is it not?"

"No Lady would kill her own baby! And anyway, we call
her Anne to her face, so why not behind her back?"

I sigh. Ruth has been a fixture at Bethlem as long as the
rafters that hold the building together, but I fear she is losing her
objectivity.

"And no nurse would speak such ill of a patient in her
charge. Plus I believe you understand why we called Lady Stanbury by her first
name for a period of time, in order not to further confuse her mind by being
associated with a name which held no identity for her. Now, Nurse Ruth, I
strongly suggest you gather your senses and speak plain to me."

"I am simply furious, Doctor Savage Sir. Absolutely
speechless, in fact."

"And why is that?"

"Because Lady Stanbury seems to believe she is soon to
be going home! And all because of this one!" Ruth points at Agnus angrily.

"Actually, Ruth, it was your treatment that cured
her."Agnus replies, and smiles.

"What treatment?"I ask.

“The hydrotherapy. Like you told me.” Ruth says, crossing
her arms over her chest.

“Yes, I did authorise that. What exactly is the problem,
here?”

“Ruth called Lady Stanbury a 'baby killer', Doctor.”

"Oh, you little snitch!" cries Ruth, raising her
arms in frustration and banging her fists on her lap.

"Well, you are the one that insisted you spoke to Dr
Savage, Ruth! What do you expect me to do? Keep quiet about it with you acting
so crazy?"

"How dare you call me crazy! I work with the crazy! I
am certainly not crazy!"

"I think you must be, a little bit, to work with
them." says Agnus, quietly.

"Nurse Agnus..."I reproach her. The last thing I
neither want nor need is a battle of women in my office. "What treatment
is this of which you speak?"

"That day when Lady Stanbury came to see you Sir? That
there morning, Ruth had given her the cold bath treatment, and called her a
murderer,"Agnus says quickly. "The patient was most distressed. I
took her out, and it was then that she spoke to me about where she was, and
recalled the incident that led her to be here."

"Is this true, Ruth?"I am  livid. “You spoke to a
patient in this manner?” Ruth notes that I have dropped her title, and becomes
even redder.

"Yes, Sir."

"Pardon? I can't quite hear you."

"Yes Sir!" Ruth shouts the words. "It is
true! Of course it is true! She's a liar, and she’s no more mad than either you
or I!"

"I think, Ruth, that it is you that is slightly 'mad'
at the moment. Firstly, and listen well, I am the chief medical officer here at
Bethlem. Anything and everything you do and say to any patients has my
authorization before you do, say, think, or feel it. You have been here long
enough; you know well that shocking patients with words about their deeds is
not indicated in the management of puerperal psychosis, and could have pushed
her further and deeper into her madness. Lady Stanbury is here only for rest and
recuperation, her insanity being only temporary. You are also aware that these
women; such as Lady Stanbury should be treated as if they will recover
completely, as being aware of temporary conditions in a lunatic asylum can make
these women insane permanently. Calling her a 'baby killer', could have
resulted in utterly disastrous consequences for Anne, and unhinged her mind
completely. You took it upon yourself to issue forth derogatory and unfeeling
comments which were not of your authority, and for this I issue you with a
verbal warning. If I hear any more complaints of you treating any of your
patients; especially Lady Stanbury in such a manner, or indeed, do anything
without my prior and explicit say so, you will be out of employment quicker
than a rabbit on fire. Do you understand me?"

"But, but...but it was after the treatment she returned
to sanity!" Ruth splutters.

"That is as may be, Nurse Ruth. But I see that you have
missed somewhat the point I was trying to make here. You are not in control.
Whether it was the plunge bath that returned Lady Stanbury's senses or not is
not the issue at stake here. What is clear is your inability to respect rules
and authority. This is your first, and last warning."

I turn to Agnus.

"Nurse Agnus, great thanks to you for seeing Lady
Stanbury to warmth and health after her 'treatment' here with Nurse Ruth, and
may I tell you now that I greatly suspect it was your humane and kind treatment
of Anne that led her back to her senses, considering how abruptly she was somewhat
rudely jerked into the present reality, courtesy of Ruth here. I have never
known a cold bath to cure any inmate of any manner of insanity, ever, in just
one administration."

Agnus nods solemnly.

"Whilst I consider removing Anne from your charge,
Nurse Ruth, you do well to mind me and what we have discussed here today. Now,
take your leave, I have much work to attend to. And may I suggest you give the
Red Book a read, for I have never seen you pick it up. There are things you
could learn in there, including respect."

With a disgruntled look in Agnus' direction, Ruth rises from
her chair, curtseys slightly to me, and exits the office in an angry flurry of
aprons and skirts. Agnus rises to follow.

"Nurse Agnus, dear."I stop her.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Watch over Anne carefully whilst she is with Nurse
Ruth, and report to me immediately any instance of which I need to be informed.
I trust you to do your duty as well as always."

"Yes, Doctor. I will. Good day to you."

"Good day, Nurse Agnus. Now please, close the door
behind you."

The door shuts quietly, and I am left alone once again with
my notes. Sometimes I feel like I am in charge of two sets of patients, the
nurses on one side and the 'real' patients on the other.

Why did women decide to enter the workplace? A question that
will no doubt confound me until the day I die. Curing the insane is easier than
answering that question.