Alias Grace (54 page)

In the early days of my widowhood, I found a daily reading of the Bible quite soothing to the
mind; and some light needlework also helps to occupy one’s thoughts. In addition to these
remedies, perhaps you have a respectable female friend, who may comfort you in your distress
without wishing to know the cause of it. What is believed in society, is not always the equivalent
of what is true; but as regards a woman’s reputation, it amounts to the same thing. It is as well to
take all steps to preserve that reputation, by not spreading one’s misery abroad where it may
become the subject of malicious gossip; and to that end, it is wise to avoid the expression of one’s
feelings in letters, which must run the gauntlet of the public posts, and may fall into the hands of
persons who may be tempted to read them unbeknownst to the sender.

Please accept, Mrs. Humphrey, the sentiments I have expressed, in the spirit of a genuine desire
for your future well-being, in which they are offered, by,
Yours most sincerely,

(Mrs.) Constance Jordan.

From Grace Marks, The Provincial Penitentiary, Kingston, Canada West; to Dr. Simon Jordan.

December 19th, 1859.

Dear Dr. Jordan:

I am writing to you with the help of Clarrie, who has always stood my friend, and got this paper
for me, and will post it when the time comes in return for extra help with the laces and stains. The
trouble is that I don’t know where to send it, as I am ignorant of where you have gone. But if I
find it out, then I will send this. I hope you can read my writing, as I am not much accustomed to
it; and can only spend a short time at it each day.

When I heard you went off so quick, and without sending any word to me, I was very distressed,
as I thought you must have been taken ill. I could not understand it, that you would go without a
goodbye, after all the talking we had done together; and I fainted dead away in the upstairs hall,
and the chambermaid went into a panic, and threw a vase of flowers over me, water, vase and
all; which quickly brought me round, although the vase broke. She thought I was going off into
fits, and would run mad again; but this was not the case, and I took very good control of myself,
and it was just the shock of hearing about it in that sudden manner, and the palpitations of the
heart which I have often been troubled from. I suffered a gash on my forehead from the vase. It is
astonishing what a great quantity of blood may flow from a wound to the head, even if it is a
shallow one.

I was unhappy that you left, as I was enjoying our talks; but also they said you were to write a
letter to the Government on my behalf, to set me free, and I was afraid that now you would never
do so. There is nothing so discouraging as hopes raised and then dashed again, it is almost worse
than not having the hopes raised in the first place.

I do very much hope you will be able to write the letter in my favour, which I would be very
thankful for, and hope you are keeping well,

From,

Grace Marks.

From Dr. Simon P. Jordan, care of Dr. Binswanger, Bellevue, Kreutzlinger, Switzerland; to Dr.

Edward Murchie, Dorchester, Massachusetts, The United States of America.

January 12th, 1860.

My dear Ed:

Forgive me for having taken so long to write to you, and to acquaint you with my change of
address. The fact is that things have been somewhat muddled, and it has taken me some time to
straighten myself out. As Burns has remarked, “The best laid schemes o‘ mice and men gang aft
a-gley,” and I was forced to make a hasty escape from Kingston, as I found myself in complicated
circumstances which could rapidly have become quite damaging, both to myself and to my future
prospects. Someday over a glass of sherry I may tell you the whole story; although it seems to me
at present less a story, than a troubled dream.

Among its elements is the fact that my study of Grace Marks took such an unsettling turn at the
last, that I can scarcely determine whether I myself was awake or asleep. When I consider with
what high hopes I commenced upon this undertaking — determined, you may be sure, on great
revelations which would astonish the admiring world, I have cause almost for despair. Yet, were
they indeed high hopes, and not mere self-seeking ambition? From this vantage point I am not
altogether sure; but if only the latter, perhaps I have been well repaid, as in the whole affair, I
may have been engaged on a wild goose chase, or a fruitless pursuit of shadows, and have come
near to addling my own wits, in my assiduous attempts to unpick those of another. Like my
namesake the apostle, I have cast my nets into deep waters; though unlike him, I may have drawn
up a mermaid, neither fish nor flesh but both at once, and whose song is sweet but dangerous.

I do not know whether to view myself as an unwitting dupe, or, what is worse, a self-deluded fool;
but even these doubts may be an illusion, and I may all along have been dealing with a woman so
transparently innocent that in my over-subtlety I did not have the wit to recognize it. I must admit

— but only to you — that I have come very close to nervous exhaustion over this matter.
Not to know — to snatch at hints and portents, at intimations, at tantalizing whispers — it is as bad as being haunted. Sometimes at night her face floats before me in the darkness, like some lovely and enigmatic mirage —

But excuse my brain-sick ramblings. I have intimations of some vast discovery still, if I could only
see my way clear; though as yet I wander in darkness, led only by marsh-lights.

To more positive matters: the Clinic here is run along very clean and efficient lines, and is
exploring various lines of treatment, including water therapy; and might act as a model for my
own project, should it ever come to fruition. Dr. Binswanger has been most hospitable, and has
given me access to some of the more interesting cases here. Much to my relief, there are no
celebrated murderesses among them, but only what the worthy Dr. Workman of Toronto terms

“the innocent insane,” as well as the usual sufferers from nervous complaints, and the inebriates
and syphilitics; although of course one does not find the same afflictions among the well-to-do as
among the poor.

I was overjoyed to hear that you may soon favour the world with a miniature copy of yourself,
through the kind offices of your esteemed wife — to whom, please send my respectful regards.

How calming it must be, to have a settled family life, with a trustworthy and dependable woman
capable of providing it! Tranquillity is indeed much undervalued by men, except those who lack it.

I envy you!

As for myself, I fear I am doomed to wander the face of the earth alone, like one of Byron’s
gloomier and more lugubrious outcasts; though I would be much heartened, my dear fellow, to be
able to grasp once more your true friend’s hand. This chance may soon come, as I understand that
the prospects for a peaceful resolution of the current differences between North and South are not
hopeful, and the Southern States talk seriously of secession. In the event of an outbreak of
hostilities, my duty to my country will be clear. As Tennyson says in his overly botanical fashion, it
is time to pluck “the blood-red blossom of war.” Given my present tumultuous and morbid mental
state, it will be a relief to have a duty of some kind set before me, no matter how deplorable the
occasion for it.

Your brain-sore and weary, but affectionate friend,

Simon.

From Grace Marks, the Provincial Penitentiary, Kingston; to Signor Geraldo Ponti, Master of
Neuro-Hypnotism, Ventriloquist, and Mind-Reader Extraordinaire; care of The Prince of Wales
Theatre, Queen Street, Toronto, Canada West.

September 25th, 1861.

Dear Jeremiah:

Your Show was on a poster, which Dora got hold of one of them, and pinned it to the laundry
wall, to liven it up; and I knew at once it was you, even though you have another name and have
grown your beard very wild. One of the gentlemen paying attentions to Miss Marianne saw the
Show when it was at Kingston, and said the Future Told in Letters of Fire was a first-class item,
and worth the price of admission, as two ladies fainted; and he said your beard was bright red. So
I expect you have dyed it, unless it is a wig.

I did not attempt to contact you while in Kingston, as it might have resulted in difficulties if
discovered. But I saw where the Show was next to be performed, and that is why I am sending this
to the Theatre in Toronto, in hopes it will find you. It must be a new Theatre, as they had none of
that name when I was last there; but that is twenty years ago now, although it seems a hundred.

How I would like to see you again, and to talk over old times, in the kitchen at Mrs. Alderman
Parkinson’s, when we would all have such fun, before Mary Whitney died and misfortune
overtook me! But in order to pass muster here, you would have to disguise yourself more, as a red
beard would not be enough at close quarters. And if they found you out, they would think you had
tricked them, as what is done on a stage is not as acceptable, as the very same thing done in a
library; and they would want to know why you are no longer Dr. Jerome DuPont. But I suppose
the other pays better.

Since the Hypnotism, the people here seem to treat me better, and with more esteem, although
perhaps it is only that they are more afraid of me; sometimes it is hard to tell the difference. They
will not speak about what was said on that occasion, as they are of the opinion that it might
unsettle my reason; which I doubt would be the case. But although I have the run of the house
again, and tidy the rooms and serve the tea as formerly, it has not had any effect on my being set
free.

I have often pondered about why Dr. Jordan left so suddenly, right after; but as you yourself left
quite soon as well, I expect you do not know the answer. Miss Lydia was very taken aback at Dr.

Jordan’s departure, and would not come down to dinner for a week, but had it sent up on a tray;
and she lay in bed as if ill, which made it very difficult to tidy her room, with her face all pale and
dark circles under her eyes, and acted the tragedy queen. But young ladies are permitted to carry
on in that way.

After that she took to going out to more parties with more young men than ever, and especially a
certain Captain, which nothing came of him; and she got the name of a romp amongst the
military men; and then there were rows with her mother, and when another month had gone by it
was announced that she was engaged to be married to the Reverend Verringer; which was a
surprise, as she always used to make fun of him behind his back, and say he looked like a frog.

The wedding date was set a great deal sooner than is usual, and I was kept very busy sewing from
morning to night. Miss Lydia‘s travelling dress was of blue silk, with self-covered buttons and two
layers to the skirt; and I thought I would go blind hemming it. They had their honeymoon at
Niagara Falls, which they say is an experience not to be missed, I have only seen pictures of it;
and when they came back she was a different person, very subdued and pale, with no high spirits
any more. It is not a good plan to marry a man you do not love, but many do and get used to it in
time. And others marry from love and repent at leisure, as they say.

I thought for a while that she had a liking for Dr. Jordan; but she would not have been happy with
him, nor he with her, as she would not have understood his interest in lunatics, and his curiosities,
and the strange questions about vegetables that he used to ask. So it was just as well.

As for the help Dr. Jordan promised me, I have heard nothing of it, and nothing of him, except
that he has gone off to the Southern war, which news I had through Reverend Verringer; but
whether he is alive or dead I do not know. In addition to which, there was a great many rumours
going about, concerning him and his landlady, who was a widow of sorts; and after he left, she
could be seen wandering in a distracted manner by the lakeshore in a black dress and cloak and a
black veil blowing in the wind, and some said she was intending to throw herself in. It was much
talked about, especially in the kitchen and laundry; and we got many an earful from Dora, who
was once the servant there. What she had to tell, you would scarcely credit, of two such outwardly
respectable people, with screams and groans and horrifying goings-on at night, as bad as a
haunted house, and the bed linen a shambles every morning, and in such a state as made her blush
to look at it. And Dora said it was a wonder he hadn’t killed this lady and buried the body in the
yard outside, as she’d seen the spade for it standing ready, and a grave already dug, which made
her blood run cold; as he was the sort of man who would ruin one woman after another and then
tire of them, and murder them just to get rid of them, and every time he looked at the widow lady
it was with fearsome blazing eyes like a tiger’s, as if ready to spring on her and sink his teeth into
her. And it was the same with Dora herself, and who knew but that she might have been the next
to fall victim to his ravenous frenzies? She had a willing audience in the kitchen, as there are
many who like to listen to a shocking tale, and I must say she made a good story out of it. But I
thought myself she got carried away.