‘Sssh!’ The polite murmuring around the galleries ceased expectantly as a short man with a jet-black moustache and grand manner strode into the arena. Spontaneous applause broke out as he handed his hat and gloves to an assistant and bowed repeatedly until it had ceased.
‘Tonight,’ he began impressively, his barely accented English full and resonating, ‘you are invited not as idle spectators but as witnesses! To the most profound experiment of its kind in all of history!’
There was an excited stirring. Aldini continued, ‘I have invited you doctors and philosophers here tonight’ – Renzi lowered his head guiltily – ‘to attest to the world the truth of what you will shortly see occurring before you.’
He paused and looked about significantly. ‘In proof of my theory of animal electricity as the conduit of all vitality, this night I will attempt, by means of a voltaic pile, the reanimation of a deceased body. I will, by the science of galvanism, revive a corpse!’
The commotion increased as the experiment was prepared but died away in breathless silence at the appearance of the subject, brought in and laid on the table under a white sheet. This was stripped back to reveal the naked cadaver of a man. In the absolute stillness of death, its chalky pallor was an obscene counterfeit of life.
The apparatus was connected. A peculiar tower of alternating copper and zinc discs inside a loose cage was produced, water oozing slowly from between each pair. A braided copper strap led from the bottom of the pile, another from the top. An assistant held them gingerly at arm’s length.
Utter silence reigned.
‘Splendid! We shall begin. This is Signor Volta’s electric pile and it stands ready to deliver its vehemence on my command. Before we commence I must particularly ask that you do observe most carefully and closely, as the vitalising effect is instant and dramatic.’
He bent to the body and inspected it for a moment, then straightened. ‘I would now ask any who will to come forth to agree with me that life is entirely absent. Sir?’
An austere figure descended and, with practised skill, felt for a pulse and looked into the staring eyes. He pursed his lips and took out a speculum, which he held over the mouth. Then he pronounced, ‘Life is extinct, gentlemen.’
‘If you are ready, I shall proceed.’ Aldini took the copper straps, each with a small disc at its end, and advanced on the corpse.
Kydd could hardly take it in. Was modern science about to tear down the last boundaries between death and life? To achieve on earth a mortal resurrection that defied the Church and all its teaching?
Aldini raised the discs and, after a slight pause, placed them firmly at each side of the lower skull.
Instantly there were jerking movements in the corpse – a tensing, then a wave of terrible contortions passed over the face and, as the discs continued their work, an eye flickered and the jaws quivered, as though in a desperate effort to speak.
The professor let it continue for a while longer, then withdrew the discs. The body slowly relaxed into the stillness of before. ‘Disappointing,’ he said briefly, inspecting the subject. ‘Yet it might be said to be the clay I have to work with. A common murderer, I understand, but fresh hanged at Newgate and brought to me without delay.’
Kydd’s mind flailed. That corpse had been a warm, living, breathing, despairing human so very recently. And now this.
A bluff gentleman next to him snorted. ‘If he brings the wretch back, I shall demand he be re-executed. The law’s insistent on the matter – hanged b’ the neck until dead.’ He turned back to the proceedings.
‘Nevertheless,’ Aldini continued, ‘we shall continue. To increase the strength I will use another voltaic pile and this time for maximum effect I shall introduce the electricity directly into the interior of the body.’
He selected a slender silver probe. ‘Via the rectum.’
Aldini then stood at the head of the table and carefully applied a disc to the nape of the corpse. The whole body trembled, then the back arched as if under intolerable pain, the legs kicked in a grotesque parody of desperate escape and the arms lifted in spasm. After a further minute one clenched fist suddenly punched the air in hopeless fury and hung in a tremor.
‘A pity,’ Aldini announced, after a space. ‘I had hoped for a result this evening. My studies at Bologna were very promising . . .’
Faint and with an urgent need for air, Kydd endured until the good professor had concluded, then hurried out into the cold freshness of the night streets. ‘Er, uncommon interesting,’ he blurted, as they hastened to find a hackney.
‘Quite. With refinement, who knows where it will lead?’ said Renzi, but Kydd was gratified to note his distinctly pale face.
In the morning, Kydd was away with an attorney when the messenger returned from Guildford with a package.
Renzi hastened to open it. Yes! It contained a stout letter sealed with a cypher he knew only too well. He heated a thin knife over a candle and, with the utmost care, worked at the seal. He read the letter with a smile of satisfaction. Exactly as he had surmised.
He reaffixed the seal carefully, then penned a quick note and gave it to the messenger. Now everything depended on the marchioness.
‘A vexing, prating crew, your law-grinders,’ Kydd said, flinging down his papers. ‘Before you may even start in business there’s first a memorandum of association an’ then you must work up your articles. Only then are the books of account opened – it would tax the patience of Jove to see the matter squared away at last, shipshape and all a-taunto.’
He slouched into his chair and thrust out his boots towards the fire. ‘Wind’s in the sou’-east, I see,’ he said, squinting through the low sun coming in the window. ‘Johnny Crapaud’ll sit up and take notice, I shouldn’t wonder,’ he added bitterly.
