The Strange Delusions of Dr. Cotard

Dr. Cotard’s decapitated head rests upon a velvet cushion on a table with a porcelain teacup of warm, steaming tea sitting on a tea platter of the same material; in front of his severed head, Dr. Cotard’s headless body sits in a kindly-mannered fashion on a cushioned armchair, holding a porcelain teacup and tea platter in one hand and a small silver spoon in the other. The body brings its spoon to its teacup and dips it in, stirring the warm tea seven times before placing the spoon on a napkin on the table. It holds its tea in a neutral position near its chest, all the while the head merely stares at its tea. The head looks at the body, then back to its tea, then back to the body, waiting for the body to begin the fated conversation. The body, knowing the head’s thoughts, places its teacup on the table, sliding it next to the head’s own cup, and lets out a lengthy sigh of discomfort.

“Pray tell, O good sir,” says the body, “what is the brew of this tea? It is quite delightful.”

“Unfortunately, O good sir,” the head answers, “I do not know. I, Dr. Cotard, purchased this brew some time ago, and have since forgotten what it is called.”

“Nay, nay,” the body retorts, “I, Dr. Cotard, purchased the brew and forgot what it is called, and I made my inquiry in the hopes that you remember, for you were only present.”

“Nay, nay. Speak not, deceiver, for I am Dr. Cotard.”

“You dare suggest I am a liar?”

“Indeed, for we cannot both well be Dr. Cotard, can we?”

The body harrumphs and contests: “you have the gall to contradict me, O good sir?”

“Yea, yea.”

“Then we shall settle this like gentlemen: by trial of blood. Take up arms and meet me outside!”

The head laughs. “Your foolhardiness betrays you, for Dr. Cotard is not a bash man, nor is he a bold one. Nay, nay; all people who know me know that I am a man of wits, not rash physical action.”

“While it is surely true that people who know Dr. Cotard, who is I, knows me as an articulate and intelligent man, most know him better for his capabilities. I speak the truth: I am renowned for my deft hands and surgical precision, my abilities which have saved more lives than I can count. That is what I, Dr. Cotard, will be remembered for.”

“Of course, strangers and acquaintances who only met me through pure necessity during times of medical emergency will remember for such things, but those who know me personally, such as my beautiful wife Elizabeth, and my wonderful children Ulysses and Dorothy, and my very good friend and colleague Mr. Capgras, know me for my incredible conversation, knowledge, benevolence and eloquence. I speak the truth: it was I, not you, who stood forth in front of a crowd of decent folk to deliver unto them the good word for so many years.”

“How dare you use the good word to your advantage,” the body scolds. “However, because you are so keen to bring it up, I should remind you that it says: he who looks upon a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. It is your eyes that commit sin, and Dr. Cotard is among the best of men and has never looked upon a woman with immoral intent; therefore, you could not possibly be Dr. Cotard.”

“You defeat yourself, good sir,” the head laughs. “Of course, it is true that Dr. Cotard has never looked upon a woman with lustfulness, but so too have I never looked upon a woman in that very fashion, because I am Dr. Cotard! However, because you are so keen to make accusations, need I remind you that it is the hand that unlawfully steals possessions from others, and that it is the hand that plunges the dagger into the heart of fellow men to spill blood upon the earth? Dr. Cotard could never and has never done such things; therefore, you could not possibly be Dr. Cotard.”

“Silence, hypocrite, for you too have defeated yourself! Dr. Cotard is not a thief nor a murderer, that is true. He and I are the same in those qualities, and of course we are, for I am Dr. Cotard. Furthermore, you previously mentioned that Dr. Cotard was known for his benevolence, and presently I second that statement. For it is I, Dr. Cotard, and my hands which fill the poor boxes with money and tend to the sick, who take action to help the needy and the ill. Undeniably, it is obvious that I am Dr. Cotard.”

“Do not be so cocky,” the head retorts, “for it is my mouth that delivers the good word unto my flock, and my words which guide the lost. Unless you wish to claim that my work as a doctor is more important than my work as a minister, it is clear that I am most important to Dr. Cotard, thus proving I am he.”

“Additionally, it is your mouth which speaks deceit and brags and glorifies the self.”

“Dr. Cotard would do no such thing!”

“But it is exactly what you have done since we sat down for tea.”

“How dare you bear false witness against me!”

“Untrue, for I have already proven I am Dr. Cotard yet you continue to insist that you are Dr. Cotard instead–which is a lie. Furthermore, in insisting that you are Dr. Cotard, you have glorified yourself.”

“You have not proven anything, and you commit the same offenses.”

“Then allow me to make my final argument: the good word says that the self is contained within the heart. Remind me, where does the heart reside?”

“You would do well not to taunt me, O good sir.”

The body laughs at the head. “You disappoint me, O good sir.”

“Perhaps I shall remind you that it is the heart that craves the pleasure of the flesh, and that the heart is not to be trusted but rather the wisdom of the LORD?”

“Back to making accusations, I see.”

“Hypocrite!”

Dr. Cotard’s body rises from his seat and clenches its fists, making a threatening gesture to its own head. “Thanks to your arrogance and stubbornness, this dialectic has gone absolutely nowhere. I was correct in suggesting we settle this by duel.”

“Fine then, we shall duel to satisfaction; you brutish oaf.”

The body took up arms and walked ten paces away from the table from which the head rests, all the while the head lies on its velvet cushion with no legs for which to walk and no hands for which to take up arms. The body, having no eyes for which to see and aim with, points its pistol in an entirely random direction and fires. The sound of the firing pistol reverberates within Dr. Cotard’s mind for but a moment before the sound of a second shot takes its place, echoing once again for only a short time before a third shot occurs. Of course, they are not truly the sounds of a firing pistol, but rather that of the loud chiming of the great grandfather clock within his living room; once Dr. Cotard realizes this, he discards the pistol and walks back to the table to collect his head.

“Oh my,” says the doctor. “Is it seven-O’clock already? I must hurry on to the clinic.” He places his head upon its rightful place on his neck, then collects his skin stapler from his dresser before stabling his head and neck together. “I can’t be losing my head now, can I?”