“I like to tell people I have the heart of a small boy, then I tell them it's in a jar on my desk.” The ghastliness and horror of this quote from Robert Bloch, author of Psycho isn’t that far removed, in spirit, from The Hand, a four-page literary jewel written by nineteenth century French author Guy de Maupassant. A heart in a jar, a hand on a wall, a haunted house at night - what is it that makes horror stories so incredibly compelling, stories once heard make such a deep impression and we can vividly recall scenes and images years later? Perhaps H.P. Lovecraft understood the crux of our predilection for the horrific when he wrote, “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”
And this very short de Maupassant story is all about the unknown; but beyond mere theme, it’s the way the author constructs and crafts his tale of terror - attention and precision and nuance given to every single detail. For example, the setting: a gathering in front of a fireplace where a judge expounds on a much discussed inexplicable, "unnatural" Paris crime. He is surrounded by a group of mostly women, which is appropriate since in the nineteenth century world of de Maupassant women were viewed as more susceptible to hysteria, madness and the callings of the occult.
The conversation prompts the judge to cite another case involving what he terms "the uncanny." Immediately, anticipating something horrible, the women implore the judge to relate the story of the case. The judge obliges and thus we as readers hear this story within a story.
And what a story! First, it’s noteworthy this tale of horror and the supernatural is told by a man who states directly he only believes in rational, natural causes, a man occupying that quintessentially logical and eminently establishmentarian of positions – a judge. Then, among other particulars, the judge conveys how events transpired in Ajaccio, a city of small white buildings and houses by the sea, a city bounded by mountains. Such natural beauty but, as the judge explains, the city suffers from many generations of violent murders and massacres, all in the name of vengeance.
A mysterious Englishman, Sir John Rowell by name, a tall, broad-shouldered man with red hair and red beard takes up residence out at the end of the bay. Many legends circulate about the Englishman’s adventurous and perhaps criminal past and the judge thinks it wise to get to know this larger-than-life stranger. Events occur in a manner to bring the judge to Rowell’s house. When asked, the Englishman tells the judge about hunting hippopotamus, tigers, elephants, gorillas, and even doing some man-hunting.
Then the tale takes a eerie turn when the Englishman invites the judge into his house. The judge sees something shocking. We read: “A black object stood out against a square of red velvet. I went up to it; it was a hand, a human hand. Not the clean white hand of a skeleton, but a dried black hand, with yellow nails, the muscles exposed and traces of old blood on the bones, which were cut off as clean as though it had been chopped off with an axe, near the middle of the forearm. Around the wrist, an enormous iron chain, riveted and soldered to this unclean member, fastened it to the wall by a ring, strong enough to hold an elephant in leash. The uncommonly long fingers were attached by enormous tendons which still had pieces of skin hanging to them in places. This hand was terrible to see; it made one think of some savage vengeance.”
Let’s pause here to reflect on the various levels and meanings associated with such a black hand with yellow nails reminding the judge of “some savage vengeance”. Of course the image of the hand has power simply seen as a hand. Additionally the gruesome black hand could represent such psychological regions as the Freudian unconscious or the Jungian shadow or the dark, untamed forces described in Plato’s Phaedrus.
The contrasting symbolism of the red-haired white Englishman and the dreadful black hand is rich indeed, especially in the twenty-first century when we can look back in retrospect at what is truly ghastly: a wealthy European killing endangered species and other human beings for sport.
The tale then takes a supernatural turn when the Englishman tells the judge the chain is needed since the hand always wants to get away. To find out what happens next you will have to read the story. Once read, this story will live with you for many nights when your imagination can run wild. Such striking images, such graphic happenings, all flowing from the pen of a master storyteller.
Let me conclude by quoting an experience recounted by our rationally-minded judge: "One night, about three months after the crime, I had a terrible nightmare. I seemed to see the horrible hand running over my curtains and walls like an immense scorpion or spider. Three times I awoke, three times I went to sleep again; three times I saw the hideous object galloping round my room and moving its fingers like legs.” The heart of darkness, anyone?
French master of the short story, Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893)
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