The Great Showman (and The Mermaid in the Glass Case)

Casquet of Curiosities

The British Museum, London 1842

November 1842, Diary Extract of Frederick Joseph-Salt

   The second strange occurrence in a mysterious sequence events happened to me three days after the first. I was working at my desk, and I admit I was yet again endeavouring to stay awake. I had been battling with a particularly brutal bout of insomnia that had reoccurred with merciless vengeance and peculiar persistence over the last three nights. The first night was a relentless, restless battle of me tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable, the inevitable result being that I, and my bed clothes ended up completely dishevelled and that I did not sleep at all. On the second night, and only after resorting to my now habitual nightly intake of laudanum,  did I achieve about two hours slumber. I will state that I do not like this dependence on remedies or 'wonder cures' these substances that purport to ease the unremitting misery of the sleepless state, but needs must as they say. Then after the third night of lying awake staring at the cracks creeping, spindly and spider-like across my ceiling. I knew them all too well and could trace them with my finger. I started to imagine that my ceiling was a map, and the cracks were like veins of great rivers. I imagined them flowing into the red sea, a route that would carry me away from here on a great journey of exploration and adventure. Plotting this voyage of discovery was enjoyable for a time, but when I saw the pale morning light starting to appear through the thin fabric of my bedroom curtains, and I had not yet slept a wink. I could not take it anymore and caved in to the lure of the soporific drug. And so, after almost doubling my tincture of opium, I finally dozed off for about two and a half hours. In total that amounted to only four and a half hours in three nights. Which meant today I felt drowsy and exhausted, my mind was in a groggy fog. I was 'out of sorts' as they say and in low spirits. I felt strange and was in an odd dark mood. I felt dull, and numb to my surroundings, and I was grumpy, and irascible. Which I can assure you was completely out of character for me as I was normally very agreeable and amenable These bizarre mood swings, I can only put down to my lack of sleep and the side effects of the opium.

      If I had wanted a peaceful, uneventful day in the office, after these three wakeful nights, I was not going to get it. And this was when the second strange and bizarre occurrence took place. I almost hesitate to mention it here, partly because I wished to put the incident out of my mind and forget all about it entirely. And partly because it was such an odd misjudgement on my behalf. My behaviour and conduct so took even me by surprise, it was almost as if I were out of my own mind. Looking from a distance at another person. I shiver to remember it even now.

    I will write the story here because I believe it will help me make sense of some of that day's events and help me to order my muddled mind. 

     The museum had received some boxes that had been shipped to us from Egypt, donated from a private collector. I was assigned the task, by Mr Shaw, who said to me, while blinking at me kindly in the dull light.

     "Young Freddy, let us see if we can engage your attention"

    I heard Mr Boyle "Humph" from the corner at this and say sotto voce "The young one does not want to be here" almost in a sing-song chime. Mr Shaw thankfully either did not hear him, or more likely choose to ignore his mischief.

     So, I was assigned the task, alone, of going through these boxes of artefacts and cataloguing them to be part of the new Egypt room in the Museum. A good chance to prove my worth to Mr Shaw I thought, he who had championed and supported me, though at this point I was not sure if even he thought that I deserved that encouragement. The boxes had been placed for my perusal, out of the way, in the storeroom. I would have to examine them there for they were so heavy that I could not possibly move them without doing myself an injury. They were wooden crates so large that I wondered if another stone bust, or head of some great pharaoh were stored inside.