The Seal Man

R.T. Carr, Editor

(Asylum Notes)

(1)
  There are things I will write here, and things I won't. Everyone needs a few secrets. The location of certain documents are going to the grave with me, not by design but in the veil of forgetfulness. I have lost my little notebook, somewhere, as well as what was left of my spectacles. It is all a haze now. Perhaps it will come to me, but in all honesty I will not report it to anyone if I do remember.

  The Good Doctor has led me to a few revelations about my overwhelming preoccupation with a particular aquatic species, and has shown me that my actions at the time were unfortunate, though at least understandable due to the circumstances of my condition and the loss I suffered prior to my occupation of that rock off the Cliff House.

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   I do recall an overwhelming hatred of mankind and now remember a rather ridiculous encounter with a silly acrobat I once had seen earlier while using my 'scope'. I must have scared the poor fellow half to death, and surely caused him great alarm. I was dressed in what seems now an absurd get up. I am afraid I barked at the man! He did come visit before he and his wife left town, and was most kind to me. I'm afraid I was a bit too profuse in asking and then thanking him for his forgiveness, but he seemed to pay it no heed, especially since I was now sans costume and dressed, if not formally, at least in a decent manner, with all my parts covered.

   One of my keepers after an interval told me when I arrived I would only eat raw fish and exhibited other Seal behaviors. Writing that last phrase was difficult, but it is a part of the process of healing to learn to

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be able to communicate my thoughts. I have been with gradual kindness and patience weaned from my former demeanor and am now quite civilized. The acrobat said he would not press any charges and assured me he felt no ill will towards me, so the spectre of the law will not haunt me.

  The Doctor is aware of my other adventure on the pier. I told him in some frantic detail, I assume as a raving maniac. I do not remember any of it, and only remember what he told me later I had said. I feel I am making some good progress and am perhaps almost ready to join my family. They have truly risen to my aid and I feel closer to them than I ever have. My Dear Sister came first, which anchored me to my family. Her look of genuine concern at my condition convinced me that my dear sister did not abandon me, as much as I, her.

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  Meanwhile I have had to take personal stock of myself and be resigned to the fact that I do not have a Seal family. It is no more, literally. It was a fantastical creation of an addled mind more than likely. It is a shameful part of my personal history and most abhorrent to me now. So I make my road to recovery, ever thankful that I have returned to human kind. Yet there is an element of me that is evermore ashamed that it was my invasion that caused so much death to be dealt to so many innocent creatures.

  I did feel a great deal of responsibility for the pier. This matter was settled with a generous stipend from my Father, who is proving to me that his concern, love and generousity are genuine. The owners of the pier were very happy to accept a reasonable sum, their business interests in Sacramento calling them to the North of the state. The

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Rute family will always reside pleasantly in my thoughts. After all I thought I had been responsible for ruining the whole pier, but was told by them that the bulk of the construction was the barrels, gotten on the cheap after they were emptied by a fellow who had kept books in them! And they thought I was crazy! That and the shack, which suffered the same fate as the barrels.

[Editor's Note: This proves that it is a small world, I suppose. Never had a thought I'd hear of the Rute Family again or Dusty's Library, however indirectly!]

   I have resolved to take up a study of some sort, but have not narrowed my field to a specialty as yet. I think I shall avoid further mammillian adventures of an aquatic nature, since my problem caused me so much agitation. Perhaps after a complete

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recovery I might, but the chance seems slim, since it makes me nervous to even consider the thought. I'm thinking perhaps languages and literature. I have a good deal of time to think, since I am still immersed, literally in hydrotherapy. They do tell me it calmed me down when I was in the throes of my illness. Baths of varying temperature are very therapeutic and ultimately quite relaxing, especially when the water is not cold.

   I do have access to a small library of classics here with a great deal of humor available. There is nothing in the collection that is sour, overly violent, or melancholy. Actually I rather miss my newspapers, which contain a liberal dose of all three elements. Perhaps when I am fully cured. For now I will choose from what is allowed me. Perhaps languages or literature, or both together. I do feel a certain academic focus that I did not possess in the past. Perhaps it

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is a positive benefit of my illness. I like Latin, though a dead language, and at least the rules are not changing and are very clear.

   My dreams are quite pleasant up here on the hill, which slopes down to the sea. My sleep is full of good hope, and pleasant reveries. I find myself going to bed early in order to lengthen my sleep. I awake each morning knowing I must have dreamt, but not remembering anything about them, only a feeling of contentment and incredible ease. I know my dreams are pleasant, since I do not have to be restrained as I did when I first arrived. I am no longer bathed in sweat when I wake up, either. Instead of exhaustion I feel refreshed and ready. I never have slept better, even though some of my fellows are quite noisy at night. I sleep through it all content in my condition. It has been a very beneficial time, but I feel an

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urge to launch myself into something. The possibilities are endless.

   I am torn between Latin and Greek, but am leaning towards the Greek, since I have a smattering of it in previous study. I wish I had paid more attention in class the first time! I have settled upon Greek. Yes that is it. I am going to read Homer's Odyssey, a work I have always meant to read fully. I shall start with a translation to get the flavor of the piece. Perhaps after a time I will try an original translation. That would be a scholarly challenge indeed worthy of upper level academic pursuit. Perhaps I could learn from the tutelage of one of the clerics at Dominican College in the North or Santa Clara in the South. It is a new day. I sent my sister on an errand of mercy to a bookseller on Market Street. She returned with a beautiful volume translated by Alexander Pope. After my lunch I sat in

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the sun room and started my new odyssey by reading the much more famous one. The first book was translated by Elijah Fenton, I assume under the supervision of Mr. Pope.

  I was excited and yet the sunroom was so warm and cozy that in spite of myself I drifted away into a nap. I awoke after what interval I do not know. My keepers had abandoned the area and were playing cards just around the corner. With a feeling of anticipation I read for about three quarters of an hour. Then I was hit, almost with the force of a body blow. As I was somewhat lazily scanning the words, somewhere around page 85 or so my eye caught the word 'Phocae'. I back tracked a little in the text, suddenly very alert. Phocae is the plural of SEA LIONS! All things came back to me, as fresh as new, my memory clarifying to a razor sharpness. The context of the piece had four mariners hiding with

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and amongst Sea Lions at a gathering spot waiting for a seer to appear from whom they would wrest information. They are given seal skins to wear and are counted as seals by the seer, since the goddess skinned four of their number. I am going to write each relevant line with my commentary inscribed below the text. I have only chosen the passages that inflamed my thoughts.

"The seer, while zephyrs curl the swelling deep,
Basks on the breezy shore, in grateful sleep,
His oozy limbs. Emerging from the wave,
The Phocae swift surround his rocky cave,
Frequent and full; the consecrated train
Of her, whose azure trident awes the main:
There wallowing warm, the enormous herd exhales
An oily steam, and taints the noontide gales."

Arrived, to form along the appointed strand
For each a bed, she scoops a hilly sand:
Then from her azure cave the finny spoils
Of four vast Phocae takes, to veil her wiles:
Beneath the finny spoils, extended prone,
Hard toil! The prophet's piercing eye to shun;
New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse
Unsavory stench of oil, and brackish ooze;

When thronging quick to bask in open air,
The flocks of ocean to the strand repair:
Couch'd on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep:
Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep
Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit:
(In order told we make the sum complete.)
Pleased with the false review, secure he lies,
And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes.

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  These 24 lines elided from the text made more than sense to me. Though I admit totally out of context, since the mariners with the assistance of the Goddess perpetrated yet another crime on these ancient Sea Lions. Nevertheless my hazy remembrances came back into focus, a good deal like adjusting to a fine focus on my telescope. It was as if Homer himself had come across the ages to speak to me. To put it mildly I had a revelatory epiphany. I saw several things at once and together. My peace in my dreams happened because I was dreaming of being a seal, experiencing those peaceful times 'wallowing warm' as the translation puts it. I was a sort of non predatory mariner in my Seal Suit, often gathering the herd around me, and experiencing the 'oily steam', 'unsavory stench of oil', and 'brackish ooze'. These things were to me of course the finest

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perfume, a natural scent, far superior to the human perfumes that cover their odors.

  I remember the incident on the Rock most clearly now, all the rage of the pier being unleashed on that performer. I do regret that in a most human sense, but in Sea Lion terms I was protecting my herd. As far as they are concerned I am almost cured. I know now that I was never ill. I lacked caution and judgment. That I see I must develop. I have decided to lull my captors and family into lassitude and compliance to my will. I'll play the cured man, until I can make my escape, either by being pronounced sane, or perhaps by actual disappearance. I only have a week or so, since they'll want to see my diary about then and if they read this they'll tighten up their grip on me. I have a session with the Doctor this week, and I can claim I forgot my papers in all the excitement of translating my Greek, and comparing the result with the translation. If I can appear to be a sane individual, I just might pull it off. I could

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tell him of my wish to go East to school at Harvard, and walk out of here on my own power. Perhaps. I might even go there? I do not know for sure, but I do know what to study and its not Greek! I have decided that deep inside me IS a Sea Lion. I am as star crossed in this occupation as Romeo and Juliet were as lovers. If for some reason I am frustrated in my attempt I will destroy these few last pages, but I do not think I will be. I shall vanish without a trace. I can do it in a day. If I'm let out on Saturday late in the day, I'm sure my keepers will not read my journal until at the earliest Monday, perhaps even later, or perhaps not at all.

[End of writing about 3/4 of a page down]

[Editor's Note: The last case is correct. There was no note concerning his escape in the papers I located, nor did the Doctor comment anywhere, and I assure you I read it all! He was released that Friday, one day earlier than he had planned. His file was marked 'Closed' and I must conclude unread. That seems to be it, at least so far, but I am still on the hunt. Professional needs dictate that I must put this aside for a bit, but I'm hoping for more traces. I've got the feeling I've only begun to dig!]

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