Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
creeturs is thirty-five years;
so, if London contains a million and a half of people, a million and a half of
persons dies, and is buried in the course of every thirty-five years. Isn't
that a fine thing for them that's in the undertaking line? cause it's quite
clear that there's a million and a half of funerals in every thirty-five years
in this blessed city."
"And a million and a half of graves or waults
rekvired," said Jones. "Well, then, who the deuce can blame us for
burning up the old 'uns to make room for the new 'uns?"
"Who, indeed?" echoed Mr. Banks. "T'other day
I had an undertaking, which was buried in Enon Chapel, Saint Clement's Lane, -
down there by Lincoln's Inn, you know. The chapel's surrounded by houses, all
okkipied by poor people, and the stench is horrid. The fact is, that the
chapel's divided into two storeys: the upper one is the preaching place; and
the underneath one is the burial place. There's only a common boarded floor to
separate 'em. You go down by a trap-door in the floor; and pits is dug below
for the coffins. Why at one end the place is so full, that the coffins is piled
up till they touch the ceiling - that is, the floor of the chapel itself, and
there's only a few inches of earth over 'em. The common sewer runs through the
place; so, what with that and the coffins and carkisses, it's a nice
hole."
"Wuss than this?" said Jones.
"Of course it is," returned Banks; "'cause at
all ewents this
is
out in the open air, while
t'other's shut up and close. But I'll tell you what it is, Jones,"
continued the undertaker, sinking his voice as if he were afraid of being
overheard by a stranger, "the people that lives in that densely-populated
quarter about Saint Clement's Lane, exists in the midst of a pestilence. Why
they breathe nothing but the putrid stench of the Enon burial-place, the Green
Ground in Portugal Street, and the Alms-House burying ground down at the bottom
of the Lane."
"All that'll breed a plague von o'these days in the
werry middle of London," observed Jones.
"Not a doubt of it," said the undertaker.
"But I haven't done yet all I had to say about that quarter. Wery soon
after a burial takes place at Enon Chapel, a queer-looking, long, narrow, black
fly crawls out of the coffin. It is a production of the putrefaction of the
dead body. But what do you think? Next season this fly is succeeded by another
kind of insect just like the common bug, and with wings. The children that go
to Sunday-school at the Chapel calls 'em '
body bugs.
' Them insects is
seen all through the summer flying or crawling about the Chapel. All the houses
that overlooks the Chapel is infested with rats; and if a poor creetur only
hangs a bit of meat out of his window in the summer time, in a few hours it
grows putrid."
"Well, Mr. Banks, sir," said Jones, after
reflecting profoundly for some moments, "it's wery lucky that you ain't
one o'them chaps which writes books and nonsense."
"Why so, Jones?"
"'Cos if you was to print all that you've been tellin'
me, you'd make the fortunes of them new cemetries that's opened all round
London, and the consekvence would be that the grounds
in
London would have to shut up
shop."
"Very true, Jones. But what I'm saying to you now is
only in confidence, and by way of chat. Why, do you know that the people round
about the burying grounds in London - this one as well as any other - have seen
the walls of their rooms covered at times with a sort of thick fatty fluid,
which produces a smell that's quite horrid! Look at that burying place in Drury
Lane. It a so full of blessed carkisses, that the ground is level with the
first-floor windows of the houses round it."
"Well, it's a happy thing to know that the world don't
trouble themselves with these here matters," said Jones. "Thank God!
in my ground I clears and clears away coffins and bodies both alike, as quick
as I turns 'em up. Lord! what a sight of coffin nails I sells every month to
the marine-store dealers; and yet people passes by them shops and sees
second-hand coffin furniture put out for sale, and never thinks of how it got
there, and where it come from."
"Of course they don't," cried Banks. "What
the devil do you think would become of a many trades if people always wondered,
and wondered how they supported their selves?"
"You speaks like a book, Mr. Banks, sir," said
Jones. "Arter all, I've often thought wot a fool I am not to sell the
coffin-wood for fuel, as most other grave-diggers does in grounds that's
obleeged to be cleared of the old 'uns to make room for the new 'uns. But, I
say, Mr. Banks, sir, I've often been going to ask you a question about summut,
and I've always forgot it; but talkin' of these things puts me in mind of it.
What's the reason, sir, that gen'lemen in the undertaking line wery often bores
holes right through the coffins?"
"That's what we call '
tapping the coffin
,'
Jones," answered Mr. Banks; "and we do it whenever a body a going to
remain at home two or three days with the coffin-lid screwed down, before the
funeral takes place. Poor people generally buries on Sunday: well, p'raps the
coffin's took home on Wednesday or Thursday, and then the body's put in and the
lid's screwed tight down at once to save trouble when Sunday comes. Then we tap
the coffin to let out the gas; cause there is a gas formed by the decomposition
of dead bodies." * [* The products of ordinary combustion are sufficiently
poisonous. The gases produced by the decomposition of the dead are partially
soluble in water; and a fatty pellicle is instantly formed in large quantities.
The wood, saturated with these dissolved gases, and used as fuel (a frequent
occurrence in poor neighbourhoods, and in the vicinity of metropolitan
graveyards), must diffuse, in addition to the exhalations constantly given off
from bodies in vaults, and on the earth's surface, vast volumes of gaseous
poison. Hence many of those maladies whose source, symptoms, and principle.
defy medical experience either to explain or cure.]
"Well, all that's a cut above me," said Jones.
"And now I must get back to work —"
"Not at that grave, mind," interrupted the
undertaker. "It musn't be another hinch deeper."
"Not a bit, sir - I ain't a goin' to touch it: but I've
got another place to open; so here goes."
With these words the grave-digger rose from his seat, and
walked slowly out of the Bone-House.
"At two o'clock, Jones, I shall be here with the
funeral," said Mr. Banks.
"Wery good, sir," returned Jones.
The undertaker then left the burial-ground; and the
grave-digger proceeded to open another pit.
CHAPTER CVII
A DISCOVERY
AT two o'clock precisely the funeral entered the cemetery.
Four villanous-looking fellows supported a common coffin,
over which was thrown a scanty pall, full of holes, and so ragged at the edges
that it seemed as if it were embellished with a fringe.
Mr. Banks, with a countenance expressing only a moderate
degree of grief, attended as a mourner, accompanied by the surgeon and the
Buffer. The truth is that Mr. Banks had a graduated scale of funeral
expressions of countenance. When he was uncommonly well paid, his physiognomy
denoted a grief more poignant than that of even the nearest relatives of the
deceased: when he was indifferently paid, as he considered himself to be in.
the present case, he could not afford tears, although he was not so economical
as to dispense with a white pocket-handkerchief.
In front of the procession walked the Resurrection Man, clad
in a surplice of dingy hue, and holding an enormous prayer-book in his hand.
This miscreant performed one of the most holy - one of the most sacred of
religious rites!
Start not, gentle reader! This is no exaggeration - no
extravagance on our part. In all the poor districts in London, the undertakers
have their own men to solemnise the burial rites of those who die in poverty,
or who have no friends to superintend their passage to the grave.
The Resurrection Man,- a villain stained with every crime -
a murderer of the blackest dye - a wretch whose chief pursuit was the violation
of the tomb, - the Resurrection Man read the funeral service over the unknown
who was now consigned to the grave.
The ceremony ended; and Jones hastened to throw the earth
back again into the grave.
The surgeon exchanged a few words with the Resurrection Man,
and then departed towards his home.
Mr. Banks and the Buffer accompanied the Resurrection Man to
his own abode, where they found a copious repast ready to be served up to them
by the Rattlesnake. The Buffer's wife was also there; and the party sat down
with a determination to enjoy themselves.
To accomplish this most desirable aim there were ample
means. A huge round of beef smoked upon the board, flanked with sundry pots of
porter; and on a side-table stood divers bottles of "Booth's best."
"Well," said Mr. Banks, "the worst part now
is over. We have got the body under ground —"
"And we must soon get it up again," added the
Resurrection Man drily. "You are sure the old woman put the money in the
coffin?"
"I see her do it," answered the undertaker.
"She wrapped it up in a old stocking which belonged to
the blessed defunct —"
"Blessed defunct indeed!" said the Rattlesnake,
with a coarse laugh.
"You see, ma'am, I can't divest myself of my
professional lingo," observed Mr. Banks. " It comes natural to me now.
But as I was a saying, I see the old woman wrap the thirty-one quids up in the
toe of a stocking, and put it on his breast —"
"On the shroud, or underneath?" demanded the
Resurrection Man eagerly.
"Underneath," replied Banks: "I took good
care of that. I knowed very well that you'd want to draw the body up by the
head, and that the money must be so placed as to come along with it."
"Of course," said the Buffer; "or else we
should have to dig out all the earth, and break open the lid of the coffin; and
that takes twice as long as to do the job t'other way."
"At what time is the sawbones coming down to the
grave-yard? " asked Banks.
"He isn't coming at all," returned the
Resurrection Man,: "but I promised that we would be at his place at
half-past one o'clock to-night."
"Too early!" exclaimed the Buffer. "We can't
think of beginning work afore twelve. The place ain't quiet till then."
"Well, and an hour will do the business," said the
Resurrection Man. "Besides, the saw-bones will set up for us. Now then,
Meg, clear away, and let's have the blue ruin and hot water. I must just write
a short note to a gentleman with whom I have a little business of a private
nature; and you can run and take it to the post presently."
The Resurrection Man seated himself at a little side-table,
and penned a hasty letter, which he folded, sealed, and addressed to
"ARTHUR CHICHESTER, ESQ.,
Cambridge Heath, near Hackney
."
Margaret Flathers took it to the post-office, which was in
the immediate neighbourhood.
On her return, the Resurrection Man said, "Now you and
Moll try your hands at some punch, - and make it pretty stiff too - just as you
like it yourselves."
This command was obeyed; and the three men betook themselves
to their pipes, while the women set to work to brew a mighty jorum of gin-punch
in an earthenware pitcher that held about a gallon and a half. The potent
beverage was speedily served up; and the conversation grew animated. Even the
moroseness of the Resurrection Man partially gave way before the exhilarating
fluid; and he narrated a variety of incidents connected with the pursuits of
his criminal career.
Then the women sang songs, and Mr. Banks told a number of
anecdotes showing how he was enabled to undertake funerals at a cheaper rate
than many of his competitors, because he had always taken care to league
himself with body-snatchers, to whom he gave information of a nature
serviceable to them, and for which they were well contented to pay a handsome
price. Thus, whenever he was intrusted with the interment of a corpse which he
fancied would make a "good subject," he communicated with his friends
the resurrectionists, and in a night or two the body was exhumed for the
benefit of some enterprising surgeon.
In this manner the time slipped away;-hour after hour
passed; supper was served up; "another glass, and another pipe," was
the order of the evening; and although these three men sate drinking and
smoking to an immoderate degree, they rose from their chairs, at half-past
eleven o'clock, but little the worse for their debauch.
The Resurrection Man filled a flask with pure gin, and
consigned it to his pocket.
"We must now be off," he said. "You, Banks,
can go home and get the cart ready: the Buffer and me will go our way."
"At what time shall I come with the cart?"
demanded the undertaker.
"At a quarter past one to a second - neither more nor
less," answered Tidkins.
Banks then took his departure.
"Are you going to stay here with Meg, or what?"
asked the Buffer of his wife.
"I shall go to bed," said the Rattlesnake hastily.
"Tony can take the key with him."
"Then I shall be off home," observed Mall.
"Besides, Mrs. Smith may think it odd if we both remain out so late."
The Buffer's wife accordingly
took her leave.
"Now come, Jack," said the Resurrection Man.
"We have no time to lose. There's the tools to get out."
The two men descended the stairs, and issued from the house.
They hastened up the little alley: the Resurrection Man opened the door of the
ground-floor rooms; and they entered that part of the house together.
"Bustle about," said Tidkins, when they found
themselves in the front room; arid having lighted a candle, he hastily gathered
together the implements which they required.
Laden with the tools, the two men were about to leave the
room, when the Buffer suddenly exclaimed, "What the devil was that? I
could have sworn I heard some one moaning."
"Nonsense," said the Resurrection Man ; but, as he
spoke, he observed by the glare of the candle, that the countenance of his
companion had suddenly become ashy pale.
"Well, I never was more deceived in my life,"
observed the Buffer.
"You certainly never was," answered the
Resurrection Man: then, hastily extinguishing the light, he pushed the Buffer
into the alley, and locked the door carefully behind himself.
The two body-snatchers then proceeded to the scene of their
midnight labour.
We take leave of them for a short space, and follow the
movements of the Rattlesnake.
It was not without an object that this woman had got rid of
the company of the Buffer's wife, by declaring that she was about to retire to
rest.
She permitted ten minutes to elapse after the Resurrection
Man and his companion had left the room then, deeming that sufficient time had
been allowed for them to provide themselves with the implements necessary for
their night's work, she started from her chair, Involuntarily exclaiming aloud,
"Now for the great secret!"
From an obscure corner of a shelf in the bedroom she drew
forth a bunch of skeleton keys, which she had procured on the preceding day.
She then provided herself with a dark-lantern, and descended
to the alley.
In five minutes she lighted upon a key, after many vain
attempts with the others, which turned in the lock. The door opened, and she
entered the ground floor.
Having closed the door, she immediately proceeded into the
back room, the appearance of which was the same as when she last visited it.
The mysterious cloak and mask were there; but in the cupboard, which was before
empty, were now a loaf and a bottle of water.
"Then there
is
a human being concealed somewhere
hereabouts!" she said to herself: "or else why that food! And it must
have been the supply of bread and water that I saw
him
put into his basket the other
night."
She listened; but no sound fell upon her ear. Then she
carefully examined the room, to discover any trap-door or secret means of
communication with a dungeon or subterranean place. She knew, by the situation
of the house in respect to those on either side of it, that there could be no
inner room level with the ground-floor; she therefore felt convinced that if
there were any secret chamber or cell connected with the premises, it must be
underneath.
She scrutinized every inch of the floor, and could perceive
no signs of a trap-door. The boards were all firm and tight. She advanced
towards the chimney, which was divested of its grate; and suddenly she felt the
hearth-stone move with a slight oscillation beneath her feet.
Her countenance became animated with joy; she felt convinced
that her perseverance in examining that room was about to be rewarded.
She placed the lantern upon the floor, and endeavoured to
raise the atone; but it seemed fixed in its setting, although it trembled as
she touched it.
Still she was not disheartened. She scrutinized the boards
in the immediate vicinity of the stone; but her search was unavailing. No
evidence of a concealed lock - no trace of a secret spring met her eyes. Yet
she was confident that she was on the right scent. As she turned herself round,
while crawling upon her hands and knees the better to pursue her examination,
her rustling silk dress disturbed a portion of the masonry in the chimney,
where a grate had once been fixed.
A brick fell out.
The heart of the Rattlesnake now beat quickly.
She approached the lantern to the cavity left by the
dislodged brick; and at the bottom of the recess she espied a small iron ring.
She pulled it without hesitation; the ring yielded to her
touch, and drew out a thick wire to the distance of nearly a foot.
The Rattlesnake now tried once more to raise the stone, and
succeeded. The stone was fixed at one end with stout iron hinges to one of the
beams that supported the floor, and thus opened like a trapdoor.
When raised, it disclosed a narrow flight of stone steps, at
the bottom of which the most perfect obscurity reigned.
The Rattlesnake now paused - in alarm.
She longed to penetrate into those mysterious depths - she
panted to dive into that subterranean darkness; but she was afraid.
All those terrible reminiscences which were associated with
her knowledge of the Resurrection Man, rushed to her mind; and she trembled to
descend into the vault at her feet, for fear she should never return.
These terrors were too much for her. She, moreover, recalled
to mind that nearly an hour had now elapsed since the Resurrection Man and the
Buffer had departed; and she knew not how speedily they might conclude their
task. Besides, some unforeseen accident or sudden interruption might compel
them to beat a retreat homewards ; and she knew full well that if she were
discovered there, death would be her portion.
She accordingly determined to postpone any further
examination into the mysteries of that house until some further occasion.
Having closed the stone trap-door and replaced the brick in
the wall of the chimney, she hastened back to the upper-floor, where she speedily
retired to bed.
We may as well observe that during the time she was in the
lower room, no sound of a human tongue met her ears.
But perhaps the victim slept!