Tom Browning's Schooldays
By
Joel
Chapter EightySeven
Epilogue Part One
Saturday September 22nd 1900
I sit here in Great St Mary's in contemplation of my life and that of others close and dear to me. Sitting, waiting to honour another life now sadly departed. His remains will enter soon before being taken after this hallowed service to his final resting place in the vault with his ancestors. The organist, our Fellow in Music, Dr Daniel Palmer is playing that most beautiful of Sebastian Bach's Chorale Preludes 'Schmucke dich, O liebe Seele' and will, as I requested, play the great Passacaglia in C minor which I know Daniel has timed to end as the hearse reaches the door at eleven o'clock.
I look towards the chancel where my dearest friend and companion through life sits enveloped in his scarlet robes, our Master of St Mark's, Dr Robin Goodhew. Me, though a Doctor myself, am arrayed in my MA gown and hood as it would not be politic to flaunt my MD from Edinburgh! A sad thought hits me. There will be one dear friend missing when I am conferred with an MD [Cantab] Honoris Causa in a month's time for my devotion, as it has been said, to the College as Honorary Fellow and Physician. Dear Robin when made Fellow in Mathematics did, as required all those years ago, take Holy Orders as a deacon. There he remained believing what he could and rejecting what he could not. I could not believe, so with the blessing of the College Council was made an Honorary Fellow with full rights to College benefits and as such I continue!
Many others are entering this edifice as I sit. I stand and bow my head to some who take their places along my pew. Some are robed in scarlet or in black, others resplendent in the most modern of tailoring. As I sit I turn my head to my side where another dear friend and fellow physician is sitting. We look at each other with wan smiles and tears in our eyes. The death was not unexpected but the parting is hard. Dr Timothy Turner has been my partner in the physicians' practice I had set up on King's Parade soon after I returned to Cambridge after my studies in Paris and Edinburgh. His expertise and kindly manner has endeared him to generations of undergraduates as well as the citizens of Cambridge. His companion and fellow apothecary and physician, Dr Jeremy Mead, sits beside him. Beyond them is the renowned judge and advocate His Honour Theodore Davis QC. Grey now and stooping but our friendship stretches back to that first day at Ashbourne School.
There is a whisper behind me. Another pair of friends have entered and taken their places. Older than I but still sprightly, Jabez Bottom and Mehmet Sevinc, have shared the house above the consulting rooms with me and Robin for the past seven years, having retired from Her Majesty's service loaded with honours. Mainly secret honours for their work dealing with those who have little or no regard for good governance and the safety of the populace. They have joined others, long-standing friends from the Bartoli clan whose eating- houses and shops here in Cambridge and London are of great repute.
The stately theme of the Passacaglia sounds and the twenty variations above it will begin and wend their inexorable way to those final semiquavers and the held chord. It would seem most of the congregation is now present. The two empty places beside me are now taken. I turned, stood, and acknowledged those members of his family. The younger still a youth but with the looks of his uncle as I remembered him at that age.
The verger brings three more to the other end of the long pew. I raise a hand in greeting as Sir Philip Goodhew RA and his brother Professor James Goodhew with Mr Nathaniel Dyer FSA take their places. A vestry door opens and a surpliced boy bearing a crucifix comes through leading the choir of men and boys of St Mark's College followed by their choirmaster Augustus Pennefather, They take their places in the choir stalls as the final two variations are played. Faintly, the passing bell is tolling, then stops.
The main door of the church clangs open. The hearse has arrived. The C minor chord fades from the organ above the door. We stand as the College chaplain, the Reverend Dr Jacob Palmer solemnly intones 'I am the Resurrection and the Life...'
1847 - 1856
What busy times those first years were at St Mark's. They went so fast but Robin and I relished being students. We studied hard but that did not mean we did not have our pleasures as well. We had experienced the sots and louts in Pratt's House so were not surprised that many students let loose from school and parental ties spent a deal of their time in ale-houses, bawdy-houses and the theatres. We hoped we were not prigs but drank more sparely than some, though did wake with sore heads on a few occasions. Many boasted of losing their virginities but we were not enticed to explore the female flesh on offer at a price. The price sometimes included infections which became a source of income for me later! Robin and I had each other as companions and lovers and remained quite faithful throughout.
However, there were other games and sports aplenty. These we did join in. Blaze and Silver had been put to grass at Careby so we had a young gelding apiece, my father's gifts. We were not idling at home, and rode, somewhat sedately, to hounds usually once a week in the season. Both of us learned to row and our arm and chest muscles developed with that exercise while our legs bore the brunt of football for Robin and running to and from Grantchester for me. We swam, too, though the Cam was a foul sewer at times, however, the College had a secret garden with a pool fed by its own spring. It was supposedly for the Fellows alone but we young fellows were allowed access for we were convinced our nakedness as we cavorted there was a joy to behold for many a crusty old bachelor! We made good friends of those on our Stair and in our third year were joined there by Harry Lawson and Matthew Coulson whose antics especially in our dramatics became almost legendary. Both made their names first as actors and then impresarios much to their families' consternation but to the delight and approbation of the many thousands who have attended their productions over the years. They are here today somewhere in the pews behind me.
My medical studies in the dissecting rooms, lecture halls, hospital wards and those searching tutorials with Dr Quick meant my time was filled to capacity. Dr Quick said he never knew a student who had so many questions to ask and who questioned everything. It was the training I had already received from my now long-departed cousin Lancelot which formed my enquiring mind. I received a stipend also as deputy organist in the Chapel and that skill developed for I received further instruction from the organist of King's College who was renowned for his expertise. After a tiring day receiving instruction on, say, anatomy and physiology, an hour in the organ loft with our gyp, another of the tribe of Knotts, pumping for me, was a great way to relax and put my thoughts in order.
Robin's life was no less arduous. His three years of undergraduate life were not only busy with his duties as Servant of the Chapel but his mathematical studies were such that he spent time with the most eminent mathematicians in other Colleges as well. Our own Fellow in Mathematics was elderly and poorly organised other than administering the college cellar and its stock of bottles and barrels. In Robin's opinion it was only Mr X's possession of a full complement of fingers and toes that let him get to counting to twenty! Robin's expertise grew apace and he was renowned even in his third year for his development of certain ideas which were far beyond the limits of my comprehension and of numerous of his fellow students. Limits, yes, the study of limits was one of his strengths, but whatever came his way he absorbed and questioned and delved and added his own thoughts and findings. He corresponded almost weekly with Aubrey Bayes in Heidelberg who was making his own advances and between them solved several fundamental problems which set certain courses for further study. A great joy was that Robin was named a Wrangler for his success in his degree examinations.
Without too much of a boast I admit my examiners were impressed with my progress. Once armed with my first degrees in medicine and surgery Dr Quick recommended I should study, as he and my cousin did, at Paris or Leiden. I chose Paris and Edinburgh for many new and innovative ideas were emerging in both of these centres of medical excellence. The welcome in Paris by the Count de Roanne was most expansive. He insisted I should not seek accommodation elsewhere but in his own house. His finances must have been more secure for a fine new three-manual organ had been installed with a full set of German pedals and my further medical studies were enhanced by the concerts and recitals which he had in his house or took me to in the salons of his many friends. I made acquaintance of a deal of French and Italian opera as well while there mainly in the company of his nephews, the Johnson twins, who were studying architecture. My only sadness was that my Robin was not with me. The other sadness was on my visit to Riom old Monsieur Fontane had died. However, his son Jacques and my distant cousin Charlotte were now well-established. He as a physician and she as a teacher of English.
I went on then to Edinburgh to study and to present my thesis for the award of the Doctorate in Medicine on the basis of, dare I say, some rather delicate anatomical studies. Again, I was given a great welcome in a known household. Here it was by the Forsythe family into which Jacques' sister, Marie, had married. I lodged with them though, sadly, Marie had succumbed to that dreaded phthisis, the disease of bleeding and wasting of the lungs. The joy was that her son, young James Forsythe, was a clever boy and had entered a fine school in Edinburgh. I was a great help to him in one way with my surgical skill. He was near to entering the accelerated growth of young lads and was seen to wince when wishing to pass water. As a doctor, as well as concerned distant cousin, I questioned him and on inspection found him to be afflicted with phimosis, or an inability to withdraw his over- tight foreskin. I explained to his grandfather that a slight operation was necessary. He gave his permission and under the guidance of my Professor of Surgery I performed that procedure which was to become a useful adjunct to my skills. It was also under the guidance of that Professor I learned how to administer the correct amount of ether or chloroform vapour to dull any pain. With my examinations in anatomy and surgery, and presentation of my thesis on my observations of the disparate nature of the development of the sexual parts of some four hundred youths between the ages of fourteen and seventeen both in Paris and Edinburgh, I emerged from the eighteen months I had spent in Edinburgh with that coveted degree.
With only short periods of time together when our itineraries matched Robin and I were parted for near three years. Of course, we corresponded with great regularity but, whenever we met, we knew our love and affection for each other had not diminished. Neither of us had succumbed to an affection for other men, though we both could recount a number of what might be described as close encounters. We had a code between us for these in our letters to each other. We called them 'our Radcliffes'!
We returned to be together again in the summer of 1853. Two announcements were made that September. Robin Goodhew MA (Cantab) was appointed Fellow in Mathematics at St Mark's College and Thomas Browning MA (Cantab) MD (Edin) was appointed an Honorary Fellow as Physician and Tutor in Medicine to the College. Although it seemed my Robin had less than me in academic honours he heard just before Christmas of that year that his own thesis had been accepted by the University of Heidelberg and he was now a Doctor of that venerable establishment. Congratulations flew back and forth for our great friend Aubrey Bayes was also awarded the same degree and would be returning to London to take up an appointment at the University College. Unfortunately within five years he was dead, killed by that dread disease which had claimed Marie Forsythe and was the scourge of many. It was something I would make part of my life's work to investigate.
As one grows older there are many sadnesses. My Uncle Digby had decided to leave his position in Her Majesty's Service and move from London to Careby and Barnes Hall with my Aunt Fanny. The establishment in Charles Street was still maintained but was now under the direction of Mr Tuckwell, revealed in his pseudonym as Lord Falconer, with the band of faithful acolytes enhanced by fully-fledged Jabez Bottom and Mehmet Sevinc. My brother Terence, now a Major, was in the background of that enterprise with his companion, Caleb Bottom. Uncle Digby's general health improved for a while but on catching a chill he succumbed to pneumonia even with the ministrations of my cousin Lancelot. We heard that in that New Year he would have been elevated to a Barony for his faithful duty to the Crown. As it was his baronetcy passed to Nicholas, his recognised son, in America where such titles were given short shrift.
Nicholas and Cornelius had prospered so we heard. We were beseeched to make the journey to see and experience the growth of that country. We heard they had taken a young Red Indian youth into their household and, as he was adept at drawing, would be a most useful adjunct to their architectural enterprises. We were much impressed with his name of Richard Red Hawk and the daguerreotype sent to use showed a most handsome young man in his native costume and headdress. Our two journeys to that huge country were to come some years later.
Both my Uncle Dodd and Aunt Matty died in the winter of 1849. Lancelot told me both had growths which he could not relieve other than by increasing doses of laudanum. Their graves in the churchyard at Careby were joined by a stone carved with great love and affection by Steven Goodhew and his ex-apprentice, now a fully qualified stone mason, Liam Keegan. Steven had willingly taken him as a partner in his trade and not just as a paid journeyman. Liam's cousin, Niall, had made decisions and was then in Rome studying to become a Catholic priest. Mr Grindcobbe said he was sad to see him go for he was showing not only expertise as a scrivener but also was adept in preparing conveyances for property transactions which needed careful preparation.
A particular sadness was that a second daughter had been born to my brother Torquil and his wife Elizabeth but had not survived. Unfortunately, a surgeon had to be called to her delivery for the child was in a wrong position and Elizabeth needed urgent attention. He proved to be quite incompetent and in assisting the midwife must have severed a blood vessel in the babe's abdomen and it was not noticed in all the blood and mess associated with a difficult birth. Victoria Albertina, as she would have been named, did not take even her first breath and no more children were born to them. However, their daughter Amelia was growing and the sons of Geoffrey and Rosamund Lascelles were hale and hearty.
Freddy Neville went to Leipzig to study the pianoforte further though, sadly, Dr Mendelssohn had died. Freddy's studies there over three years were extensive and both his playing and his compositions won acclaim. His playing of the Chopin Piano Concerto Number One in Berlin began his career across Europe and he was in great demand. After his grandfather died he made Moss Hall his English base but also delighted us with his visits to Cambridge.
My father began to suffer from shortness of breath and this precipitated my brother Torquil's resigning his commission and taking over the running of the stables in the spring of 1852 and moving to Careby with Elizabeth and their daughter, Amelia. Both Squire Matthews and his wife had succumbed to old age and the son in Canada could not be found so dear Torquil became known as Squire for they took over the Manor House! He made few changes to the regime of the stables and the hunters produced provided more than a steady income. Elizabeth took over the role of my Aunt Matty and continued her good works with the help of my mother and Aunt Fanny who both remained hale and hearty and a great support for their daughter-in-law or niece-in-law.
Philip Goodhew was now becoming well-known as a portraitist. He maintained it was the easiest way for an artist to make money as all and sundry, including the gentry, liked to see themselves above the mantelpiece! When eighteen his brother James announced he would be studying at St Mark's College. Not in Cambridge, but in London, where a college of that name for the training of schoolmasters had been set up by the Church of England in Chelsea. His first appointment was as a master in a select school for the sons of clergy and liverymen in the centre of London. His first novel was published when he was just twenty- one.
We made many excursions to London to visit relations and friends, especially so when Timmy, now properly Timothy, Turner and Jeremy Mead finished their apprenticeships and qualified to become members of the Society of Apothecaries. In London after the conferment of their memberships we took them to a performance of Donizetti's opera 'The Elixir of Love' with the tale of Dr Dulcamara the quack doctor and his love potion which is no more than cheap Bordeaux wine. I said we could set up in competition now with all the other quacks and charlatans who set up and touted their wares on the Cambridge market- place. That jest did not sit well with the newly-qualified young gentlemen. Just because I was properly styled 'Doctor' did not mean they could not use the same appellation which more and more qualified apothecaries were taking as their own. It was not long after that when Dr Turner joined me in ministering to more and more patients in my private practice and Dr Mead took over the running of the two thriving Pharmacies from his father.
Two constant friends were George Lascelles and Theo Davis. Theo had studied Law at Oxford and was called to the Bar in Middle Temple and joined his brother's chambers. Our George rose from being Cornet of Horse to Captain of a troop in just four years. He seemed to live at my Aunt Fanny's or at his brother's house in James Street when not on duty. George was a great favourite of my nephews Peter and Philemon who were packed off to the new Ashbourne-by-the Sea, as they called it, as soon as they were twelve. As predicted, Mr Ridley had retired and the Reverend Mr Martin became the new Headmaster. We were amused that Pratt's House was no more. He, too, had retired and took himself to Nice in the South of France where he fascinated the natives and visitors with his haughty manners and the Englishness of his dress whatever the weather. His entourage of sultry young male servants caused many an eyebrow to be raised.
In 1853 the news-sheets were full of foreboding for the troops of the Tsar of Russia had invaded the Ottoman Empire. Things would have been most unpleasant for our Turkish friends and Serge the Russian masseur at the Jermyn Street Baths. However, the owners of the baths, including my Uncle Digby, had sold their interests in them after Mr Sevinc, Mehmet's and Karem's father, and Serge had retired in 1851. The older members of the two families lived happily together on good pensions, and what they had saved from their labours, in a large villa in Clapham and whatever then occurred in those lands passed them by. Also, with Mehmet employed with Jabez under Lord Falconer and Karem with my Aunt Fanny at Barnes Hall they were not involved in any strife. The notoriety which then grew up around the Jermyn Street Baths is another story not to be related here!
Then came disaster. We heard of the deployment of a great number of British and French soldiers, mainly infantrymen, to defend certain states around the Danube from Russian troops. These, though depleted through deaths, mainly through illness, kept the Russians from advancing and moved forward to the town of Sebastopol in the Crimea and besieged the Russians there. News came in the middle of 1854 that officers and troopers from the regiment were to be shipped to aid the siege. Our friend George Lascelles, now Major, and several of the younger officers were sent to command the mounted troops. What we heard next was terrible. There had been a pitched battle at a place called Inkerman in early November and many on both sides were killed or injured. We had no news of the fate of George and his comrades until Tuesday the 18th of November. Just as we were breakfasting that morning a tired and agitated Caleb Barker was admitted. He had travelled on the first train from London to Cambridge to bring the news that George, with two companion officers named Lacey, who were brothers, had arrived the night before by steam packet in the Pool of London and needed immediate medical and surgical attention. George, though apparently either delirious or under the influence of laudanum for his pain, had insisted I and Timmy were the only ones who could deal with him. Another physician had been called but shook his head and said things were beyond his expertise.
What could we do but obey the command from our dearest friend? From Caleb's description George had suffered slashing sabre wounds to the left arm, hand and left leg. The two officers seemed less injured but one had a damaged arm and the other a bullet wound in the leg. Jeremy said he would look after any patients who appeared and Timmy and I packed a chest and bags with all we thought we might need and, with Robin, were on the ten o'clock train to London.
On the way Caleb recounted what he had heard of the trio's return from the battlefield. In all, five had arrived late the night before. The others were the batman to the two other officers and Mark Dawson who was now George's batman. In fact, it would seem that Mark Dawson had been the one to get all of them away from the battlefield and almost certain death. Death: not from the skirmishing but from the fetid conditions in the camp and the so-called hospital. Caleb said it was well-known amongst the troops that most who were injured in any way were not likely to survive in the poor conditions and the miasmas of the facilities which were pitiful and scarcely available.
Somehow a message must have arrived at Charles Street by the railway telegraph for a carriage was awaiting us at the railway terminus. There were solemn faces as we arrived at the house. George's brother Geoffrey, my brother Terence and Mr Topping were there with Jabez and Mehmet and after doffing cloaks and drinking a welcome beaker of hot posset I said we had better inspect the patients. Geoffrey, looking most stricken, took me by the hand and said he trusted me to do my best. I said I would. He then took Timmy's hand and whispered "You too, my friend". That endorsement was a great encouragement to both of us.
As George was the most severely-injured Timmy and I went up to the room where he was lying. Although Robin had accompanied us he remained downstairs for we knew he had an aversion to the sight of blood and injuries. When I saw George I wondered what we could do for him. He was as white as a sheet and was grimy and stinking for we heard there had been little in the way of medical assistance before or on the journey. He had only a shirt and undervest on and had been wrapped in a blanket which was blood-stained and looked to be infested with lice and, most probably, fleas. Mark Dawson was by his side and though George was in a stupor Mark was holding his right hand and speaking to him softly. He saw me and Timmy and though he bowed his head in greeting I knew he was in charge. He quickly said that George, or Master Lascelles as he called him, had been in the forefront of a skirmish. His horse had been killed beneath him, a lance to the throat which had been meant for George. As the horse stumbled so another adversary had slashed at George's left side with a sabre. That villain had then lost his head with a sabre cut from Mark who was riding just behind George. Mark had managed to get George onto his own steed and had ridden away from the battle. He had found the other two officers lying injured and had told their batman, who he knew from the barracks, to get them mounts and to follow.
I listened as he recounted this but was examining George's state while he was speaking. I was then in charge. There were two young servants standing near the window who were almost in tears at the sight. I stood on one side of the bed with Mr Topping beside me and Mark, Terence and Jabez on the other side. Timmy was unpacking the chest which we had filled with boxes of surgical instruments and other paraphernalia as well as bottles of all types of medicaments we had thought might be required. Geoffrey had said he would wait below with Robin.
I said we should carefully lift George so the blanket could be removed. He did not stir as we did this and the servants were instructed to pull the blanket away as soon as we had uncovered him. They did this swiftly and Mr Topping told them to take it downstairs and have it burned immediately. I called after them and directed them to bring up pitchers of hot water, washcloths and bowls as soon as possible. George needed to be cleaned but what I saw both shocked and impressed me. Though his left arm and hand as well as his left leg and foot were swathed in bloodied bandages they had been placed neatly and tightly keeping whatever damage had been done contained. Mr Topping said the physician the previous night had taken one look at this and had said he was not prepared to do anything. He had departed with a following oath and no fee!
I was not prepared to do anything either until George was washed. My studies in Paris and Edinburgh, together with the essay on transmission of cholera by Dr Snow in 1849 and the locking of the pump at Broad Street by him recently, had convinced me that the theory of the spread of disease and black rot in bodies was due to miasmas was not tenable. I was convinced, contrary to many other physicians, that disease and rot were the result of whatever might be carried in the dirt, in the water, or as particles in the air, but not the smell. I was aware from my observations of the quality of water under the microscope that where there was illness, such as excessive diarrhoea in children, the water available had more organisms than in the clear, purer water from countryside springs. I had also suggested at Edinburgh that contagion might be carried by the bites of fleas for we knew that a bite from a dog could result in death from rabies. This had resulted in a retort by one over-grown but untalented, in my opinion, student who had remarked he had never seen a flea as big as a dog! I did not enlighten him that Herr Virchow in Berlin had recently studied the effects that parasites might have on health.
I studied the bandages before the servants returned. I could see that George had lost at least two outer fingers of his left hand. Mark Dawson confirmed this and said the original bandages had been strips of shirts which he had torn and wrapped round the injuries there and then on George's leg and foot. I could see, however, the original bindings had been removed and others most carefully placed. I could ask no more for the servants returned and between us we washed George and I cut away his piss and shit-stained underclout as well as the filthy shirt and vest with scissors which Mr Topping had sent for. Two more pitchers of hot water had to be brought up before I was satisfied. Timmy meanwhile had taken a flask of pennyroyal and was rubbing a cloth dipped in it around the bedhead and foot and also anointed George's chest and abdomen with the fluid for it was useful in repelling fleas. We covered George's now naked body with a sheet leaving his left arm and leg exposed. Poor George was little more than skin and bone. Mark said he had had little more than gruel and soup with added brandy on the journey because he was under the influence of the laudanum to ease his pain and his stomach had rebelled against anything else. Mark asserted that the rations in the camp before the battle had been poor both for the officers and the men and there were many there almost starving.
I realised that George was now less in a stupor as his eyes were opening and shutting and he was trying to say something. I knew whatever I did next would cause him great pain. Timmy had also seen this and without asking handed me the mask and cloth to place over his nose and mouth for I would administer a few drops of chloroform before I investigated his injuries further. Timmy had stood beside me many times when I reset fractures or had to remove a growth so was well-acquainted with the need for a correct dosage of the vapour produced and a careful check of how the patient was faring.
I then said that if anyone did not wish to witness what I intended to do next they should leave the room or not look. Mr Topping told the servants, who were no more than lads of sixteen or seventeen, that they should stand outside the door but be ready for any instructions. I asked Timmy for my medium shears from my surgeon's case and took up the bottle of chloroform and dripped three drops onto the gauze of the mask and the pad held in it. I took the shears and cut through the stiff, encrusted linen binding his wounds. Thank goodness the flow of blood had been such to seal the wound. I took a fresh cloth and swabbed away some of the congealed gore with clean hot water from another bowl. Yes, George had lost his outer two fingers and most of his hand to the wrist. I took a probe and parted the flesh and saw the cuts had been made cleanly by a very sharp sabre. As he had done before on many occasions Timmy passed me the bottle of the weak carbolic solution which I always used to clean wounds. I had noted that the swimming organisms in polluted water were quickly killed if a solution of carbolic was dripped into the container. Once satisfied that no dirt remained and though the wound had begun to seep blood with my probing I bound it tight again with a clean linen bandage so that the healing process could continue. If no infection from outside entered I was most hopeful he would not lose his arm.
Timmy whispered that George was sleeping well but I asked him to put three more drops on the pad before I investigated his leg and foot. There were gasps as I cut away the bandages. His injuries here were more extensive. His lower leg had been slashed and only his heel and a portion of foot remained and his ankle was smashed. Again, the wound seemed clear of any rot once I had swabbed away the congealed blood. I had to make a decision. A decision which would be mine alone. I would have to remove what was left of his foot. I was well aware of the way in which the foot was hinged and had to rotate. This meant if I could take the part remaining away by cutting through any tendons and vessels remaining there would be a stump left which could be disguised and he would not be too crippled. This was a test of my expertise. I went over to Timmy and said what I intended to do. I said George would need to be well asleep while I essayed this operation. "I will make sure he is," he said.
Again I cleaned the site further with the weak carbolic and warned those who might be squeamish to look away. I took up three clamps in case I cut into an artery or vein and would use these to stem the flow of blood. My luck was in. My scalpel cut through the remaining tissue with little blood which I stemmed with pads which I got an unmoved Mark Dawson to hold against the wound. I had to use only one clamp and the cut-away foot was wrapped in the bandage I had sheared off. That would be consigned to the flames as well.
While any flow of blood was being stemmed I looked at the side of his leg. Part of his calf muscle had been cleanly severed and other than using the carbolic on it I thought it best to leave alone. I tied off the vessel on his stump which was clamped and when Mark took his fingers off the pad he was pressing on we found the flow there had stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief. If no infection was evident after the nine or ten days since the injuries had been inflicted I felt we had overcome most danger.
I left Mark to look over George and to see he was breathing once the mask and pad had been removed from his face. I had given him two more drops of chloroform and said to call if he noticed anything awry. Timmy and I then went to the next room where the two brothers were lying side by side. Both were awake though both looked haggard and were wincing. The older one I found was Richard Lacey and he said his injury was not too bad. His left arm was at a crooked angle across his chest and though bandaged I surmised his elbow had been shattered. He was more concerned about his brother, Francis. Francis had received a bullet in his right thigh and was afeared his leg was useless. I said I would deal with him first.
Though Francis had been dosed with laudanum for the pain he was somewhat frightened when I said I would put him to sleep while I dealt with his injury. I had to get his batman and Jabez to hold him for he was clearly afraid and struggled when Timmy tried to place the mask and pad over his face. Four drops of chloroform and he was soon asleep. His britches had been removed but he also required to be washed first. This was done and as I cut through the bandage around his thigh I wondered if the ball was still within the wound. I had not seen a wound like this before. His flesh had been torn as the bullet had entered and the wound was full of congealed blood. I pressed on his muscle and felt some hardness. I had forceps in my surgeon's box so swabbed away the blood with my carbolic solution and probed down and drew out a ball some quarter inch in diameter. I dropped it with a clang into the lid of a pot which Timmy held out to receive it. Richard Lacey had shut his eyes while I probed but now was open-eyed. "God Almighty!" he blasphemed, "That bloody Russian deserved the sabre in his guts for that!"
I did not wait to hear any more but said it was his turn as Timmy padded and bandaged his brother's leg and told the batman to check for any bleeding. The second brother was more docile when the mask was put over his face. He needed a good application of the sleep-inducing liquid for, in fact, his injury was more than he had realised. In short, I had to take his lower arm off at the elbow for his hand showed evidence of blackness and the red lines of creeping rot. I had only made two amputations like this before, once when a bricklayer had fallen from scaffolding and crushed his hand and wrist but delayed attending for his injury. The other was a young boy who had caught his arm in a threshing machine and the hand and lower arm had almost been severed before I was called to attend. Both of these did not need the saw but the dissection out of the elbow joint. With Richard it was a little more complicated. He would lose his lower arm and as the injuries were below his elbow I could dissect around the joint and the base of the humerus cutting through the attendant ligaments. I would have to be careful because there were two arteries to clamp, the radial and the ulnar coming from the brachial artery. As I probed I had noted the base of the humerus, the capitellum, was somewhat splintered with some fragments of bone detached. That would need my small saw to clean the edges. I whispered to Timmy what I intended to do and he was ready with all I needed. In case Richard stirred we dripped a couple more drops of chloroform on the pad and I could see that his breathing was slow but deep. I did the dissection and then quickly applied the saw as Timmy mopped away the debris. I positioned a flap of skin and this was all tightly bandaged after applying more of the carbolic solution. Again a severed limb was bundled into the old bandages.
I will say the assistance of Jabez and Mr Topping was of great value, for not only did they witness my dissections but helped in the staunching of any blood and took away the severed parts. The staunching of blood is not a sight, nor is the grating of the saw against bone a sound for ordinary mortals! So, it transpired Richard Lacey's was the greater injury and we could but hope the removal of his brother's ball - I mean the bullet in his thigh - would relieve the loss of feeling in the rest of his leg.
I returned to George who was sleeping soundly. I explained to Mark he would be in pain when he woke and gave him a wineglass with a good dose of laudanum in it. When George woke he was to be allowed just a few sips and should sleep as much as possible. I said both I and Timmy wished to wash ourselves for our hands and arms were splashed with blood as were our grey smocks we had taken to wearing when having to do acts of surgery. Again, I could not rejoice in wearing the same blood-stained and stinking garments as I had witnessed in some of the operating rooms I had attended as a student. The serving lads were rather overawed at all that had happened but were prompt in bringing more hot water and clean towels. We were soon clean and I and Timmy were ready for some luncheon as our patients slept.
Geoffrey was in tears when I told him of his brother's injuries and what we had done but I assured him it was required and I was hopeful of his full recovery. "I could never thank you enough," he said as he took our hands in his. "I had some premonition that George may not survive for the news which had emerged from those battles did not bode well. He is here and is alive, I am relieved by that."
Later that day we heard the full story of the journey back from the battleground in the Crimea to the haven at Charles Street. It must be said that the real heroes were Mark Dawson and the brothers' batman, William Mott. Mark was hesitant to tell the tale at first for it might have seemed a boast but from the beginning he had his wits and his military training to take command. He did intimate that neither of the brothers had interests other than hunting and shooting and were only in the regiment as their father was aggrieved by their general idleness at home and in desperation had bought them commissions. Mark also said they had proved to be obedient even when he, a mere Corporal of Horse, had to instruct Cornets of Horse in dealing with labourers, landlords of inns, captains and officers of steamers and other conveyances and so on, whose cooperation or coercion was required. Mark was, of course, much older than them, or George, so was looked on as having the wisdom of years!
It was Mark who had saved George from certain death by killing his attacker. He had carried George on his own steed the mile or so to where their camp was. With the others also injured plans had to be made for evacuation, for none were in a fit state for further military missions. With two who could not walk Mark had dragooned six of the labourers who were employed at the camp to carry George and Francis Lacey on their camp beds to the quayside at Sevastopol which was quite some distance away.
I did not know but it was a common practice amongst the soldiers to sew coins in the hems of their jackets or cloaks in case of emergency, to bribe, or to pay ransom. George, being more canny than most, had made sure he had a good number of gold coins thus secreted. Mark said George maintained the weight helped his jacket to hang more neatly. However, the six labourers were handsomely rewarded with a gold coin to share and went off happily. "Grunting in some heathen tongue," as Mark said with a grin.
Near the quayside was the residence of a doctor. In fact he was Greek but a gold coin was enough to salve his conscience and he was the one who had bandaged the trio and had supplied sufficient laudanum to keep pain at bay for most of the further journey. What was sighted next was almost like a miracle.
At the quayside were numerous small boats which might have been suitable to take the trio across the inland sea to the Bosphorus channel and across the next inner sea to the Dardanelles and the Aegean Sea where a larger boat might be hired for the journey across the Mediterranean to the port of Marseille. The older Lacey, Richard, had said he had a map somewhere which showed the route and he knew there was now a railway from Marseille to, at least Paris. However, a most welcome sight was an English steam-packet to which Mark Dawson went to gain help. A naval officer was on the foredeck surveying the quay and the town through his telescope. Mark Dawson recognised him for he had visited George and his brother Geoffrey in London. It was an old school-fellow of ours, no other than Lieutenant Cedric Branscombe!
I shook my head in amazement in hearing this about my dear friend and the brother of Torquil's wife but Mark continued with his tale. With no thought to propriety and rank he had hailed the officer. He was recognised, too, as George's servant and within minutes sailors had lifted the camp beds and their occupants onto the deck of the small vessel. It was found they would be sailing as soon as despatches arrived from the battle front where Lord Raglan was the commander. These had to be taken to Marseille where they would be forwarded in code by telegraph and semaphore stations to Paris then to Calais where a fast steam packet would convey the decoded messages to London. However, as the methods of communication might not be secure from listeners or others adept at reading the semaphore signals there would be two midshipman or young army officers who would carry locked boxes containing copies of the despatches and any other secret messages on special trains from Marseille to Paris and then to another port on the coast. Here a fast steam-packet would take the messengers and their despatches to London. Riders came within the hour and the journey began. Two lieutenants of a foot regiment carried the locked boxes and would make all arrangements for they were under orders to convey the boxes to London in safety.
As the ship was small and even though the weather was bad the only place for the three wounded was under awnings on deck. As all three were in pain their suffering was reduced by frequent doses of laudanum. The journey through from the Black Sea to the Aegean, across the Mediterranean Sea and up the coast of Italy was however swift and their arrival at Marseille had been heralded by flag signals. There a private train was ready to take the officers and the despatches on to Paris. The officers were most concerned about the injured trio so there was little persuading by Mark to be done so the wounded and their batmen were also taken in the train to Paris. Mark did say that Lieutenant Branscombe made sure there were no quibbles. Accordingly, with the best wishes of Cedric Branscombe and his crew the next part of the journey began. Care of the three and especially George was now critical. The train had to stop at times for the engine to be changed and food and ale had to be purchased. Mark said the ale was not of the quality in England so wine was more often their drink. He said he had made sure the young officers were also well-supplied for he had charge of George's coins for the jacket was little more than a rag and had to be discarded. With that he held up a leather purse which still looked fairly weighty and it jangled as he shook it!
On arrival in Paris, the despatches had to be conveyed with their keepers to another terminus. Mark said he was ready to break the journey there if George did not seem able to continue. Francis Lacey had good command of French and had seen the College of Medicine on a visit he had made to Paris on a previous occasion and was sure the three of them could receive any treatment they needed at they renowned establishment. However, though George was moving in and out of consciousness, he maintained he wished to continue and to be treated by his friends Dr Thomas Browning and Dr Timothy Turner. There was a carriage awaiting to take the officers and their boxes to the other Parisian terminus to continue their journey. Two more carriages were needed to carried the injured and all embarked at the other terminus to continue the journey to the port of Boulogne. That stage was soon accomplished and it was only left to make the sea journey across La Manche. At Boulogne another naval steam-packet was ready and waiting and this took them swiftly across and up the River Thames to the Pool of London. Bidding a grateful farewell to the Navy and the officers who had been most concerned over the invalids' welfare the final stage to Charles Street was soon accomplished. This did cause a deal of consternation as it was now near eleven o'clock at night! Decisions were quickly made, the uncooperative physician was called and departed and we had then been summoned the next morning. Glasses were raised to Mark Dawson and William Mott at dinner that night for they joined us all with Lord Falconer now at the head of the table instead of my late-lamented Uncle Digby.
There was a little amusement over the camp beds during a re-telling of the tale for it was well-known that the late Duke of Wellington had slept each night at Apsley House and at Walmer, where he died, on the camp bed brought back to England after his battles with Napoleon. Geoffrey said his brother preferred a softer bed than that but the camp bed would be preserved as a reminder of that momentous journey.
Robin, Timmy and I stayed a full week until Timmy and I were satisfied with the progress of our patients. George recovered remarkably quickly. It must have been his iron constitution, he averred. I was sworn at - but not with malice - for the removal of his foot. Though it was his left he said it was his best foot for kicking a ball. Robin said in that case mine were safe! The two Laceys recovered too. Richard was surprised when he awoke to find his lower arm was missing. He did say he now matched Lord Raglan who had lost an arm in battling Napoleon. However, I was more than pleased with the outcome. I blessed those who had taught me to use chloroform to rid pain while operating and hearing, while in Paris as a student, that carbolic and other like substances might be efficacious in preventing black rot. In my adoption of that regime I think I was a few years ahead of the general use of that substance which was initiated somewhat later with the work of Professor Lister in Edinburgh . We did find a competent physician nearby, one of those who had examined Timmy and Jeremy Mead for their Associateships, and he was placed in charge of the trio when we left. He had been rather impressed with what I had done and suggested for the maintenance of their progress so that we kept up a correspondence and met each other on our visits to London until he retired. He was instrumental in my gaining that Associateship as an adjunct to my other qualifications.
There was nothing but praise from Geoffrey Lascelles and his father, who arrived in London the day before we left. Lord Harford tried to press a substantial sum of money on Timmy and me but we refused saying George was a friend to both of us. We did accept a fee from the Lacey family. Sir Bernard Lacey came post haste to his sons within two days of receiving the news of their injuries. Whether the tales of great bravery which he heard from them were true we would never know but he was now satisfied that his idle sons had at last achieved something even if the evidence was a bullet in a bottle and a slight limp and a missing limb! Both relinquished their commissions and promised their father they would be reformed characters and take over the management of some parts of his estate. It was theirs to inherit some day! When my Uncle Billy heard of the way in which Mark Dawson and William Mott had comported themselves he arranged for them to be presented with a medal each for bravery and attention to duty. This happened at a ceremony at the Queen's Palace with members of the regiment mounted as escort for the pair. My uncle also made sure each received a good pension for they had requested to be discharged from the regiment in order to take up positions in the Lacey household or with George.
Of course, when Cedric Branscombe, in his best Lieutenant's uniform, came next to visit us in Cambridge there was much celebration for his assistance and the recovery of dear George whose frequent missives bemoaned the lack of good company and any excitement in the wilds of Westmoreland!
Two major occurrences happened between that Christmastide and the one at the end of 1856. The dog-loving Master of St Mark's breathed his last in his turd-encrusted habitation after a particularly festive Gaudy in June 1856. Dr Quick, the Fellow in Medicine, became the next Master much to everyone's delight. However, the greater occurrence was that George, tiring of the tedium of Garthorpe, asked if he might take up residence near us in Cambridge. Fortuitously we were able to purchase the house next to ours on King's Parade and with a door or two between to allow easy access our wounded hero, and his more than attentive comrade Mark Dawson, stumped his way into our lives.
To be continued:
P.s. Please consider making a donation to keep the Nifty site running. Full details of methods of payment are given on the Nifty Home page. Many thanks, Jo.