The Body Snatcher by Robert Louis Stevenson. Every night in the year forever sat
in the small parlor of the George at Debenham, the Undertaker and the Landlord,
and Fetis and myself. Sometimes there'd be more, but blow high,
blow low, com rain, or snow or frost. We four would be
each planted in his own particular arm chair. Fettis was an old, drunken
scotchman, a man of education, obviously, and a man of some property
since he lived in idleness. He'd come to Debenham years ago while still young,
and by a mere continuance of living, had grown to be an adopted
townsman. His blue camlet cloak was a local antiquity, like the church spire,
his place in the parlor at the George, his absence from church,
his old, crapulous, disreputable vices were all things. Of course, in
Debenham. He had some vague, radical opinions and some fleeting infidelities, which
he would now and again set forth and emphasize with tottering slaps upon the table.
He drank rum five glasses regularly every evening, and for the greater portion
of his nightly visit to the George sat with his glass in his right hand,
in a state of melancholy alcoholic saturation. We called him the Doctor,
for he was supposed to have some special knowledge of medicine, and had been
known upon a pinch to set a fracture or reduce a dislocation. But beyond
these slight particulars we had no knowledge of his character and antecedents. One dark
winter night, it had struck nine some time before the Landlord joined us,
there was a sick man, and the George, a great neighboring proprietor,
suddenly struck down with apoplexy on his way to Parliament, and the great Man's
still greater London doctor had been telegraphed to his bedside. It was the first
time that such a thing had happened in Debenham, for the railway was but
newly open, and we were all proportionately moved by the occurrence. He's come,
said the Landlord, after he had filled and light at his pipe.
He said, I who not the doctor himself, replied our host, Then
what's his name? Doctor mac Farland said The Landlord Fetters was far through his
third tumbler, stupidly fonddled now nodding over now, staring maisly around him.
But at the last word he seemed to awaken and repeat the name mac Farland
twice, quietly enough the first time, but with certain sudden emotion at the
second. Yes, said the landlord, that's his name, Doctor Wulf mac
Farland. Fes became instantly sober, his eyes awoke, his voice became clear,
loud and steady, his language forcible and earnest. We were all startled
by the transformation, as if a man had risen from the dead. I
beg your pardon, he said, I am afraid I have not been paying
much attention to your talk. Who is this Wolf mac Farlane? And then,
when he had heard the landlord ot, it cannot be, it cannot
be, he added, Yet I would like well to see him face to
face. Do you know him, doctor, asked the undertaker, with a
gasp. God forbid was the reply in. Yet the name is a strange
one. It were too much to fancy too. Tell me, Landlord,
is he old, well, said the host. He's not a young man,
to be sure, and his hair is white, but he looks younger
than you. He is older, though years older, but with a slap
upon the table. It's the rum you see in me face, rum and
sin. This man perhaps may have an easy conscience and a good digestion conscience.
Hear me speak, he would think I was some good, old,
decent Christian, would you not? But no, not I. I never
canted. Voltaire might have canted if it stood in my shoes. But that
the brains with a rattling Philip on his bald head. The brains were clear
and active, and I saw and made no deductions. If you know this,
doctor, I ventured to remark, after a somewhat awful paut, I
should gather that you do not share the landlord's good opinion. Fedis paid no
regard to me. Yes, he said, with sudden decision, I must
see him face to face. There was another pause, and then a door
was closed rather sharply on the first floor, and a step was heard upon
the stair that's the doctor, cried the landlord. Look look sharp, and
you can catch him. It was but two steps from the small parlor to
the door of the old George Inn. The wide oak staircase landed almost in
the street. There was room for a turkey rug and nothing more between the
threshold and the last round of the descent. But this little space was every
evening brilliantly lit up, not only by the light upon the stair and the
great signal lamp below the sign, but by the warm radiance of the bar
room window. The George thus brightly advertised itself to pass her spy in the
cold street. Fedis walked steadily to the spot, and we, who were
hanging behind, beheld the two men meet, as one of them had phrased
it, face to face. Doctor mac farland was alert and vigorous, his
white hair set off his pail, and placid said although energetic countenance. He
was richly dressed in the finest of broadcloth and the whitest of linen, with
a great gold watch chain and studs and spectacles of the same precious material.
He wore a broad folded tie, white and speckled with the lilac, and
he carried on his arm a comfortable driving coat of fur. There was no
doubt but he became his years, breathing as he did, of wealth and
consideration. And it was a surprising contrast to see our parlors sot bald,
dirty, pimpled and robed in his old camlet Cloak confront him at the bottom
of the stairs. Mac Farland, he said, somewhat loudly, more like
a herald than a friend. The great doctor pulled up short on the fourth
step, as though the familiarity of the address surprised and somewhat shocked his dignity.
Tade mac Farland repeated Ferris. The London men almost staggered. He stared
for the swiftest of seconds at the man before him, glanced behind him with
a sort of scare, and then in a startled whisper fettis he said,
you aye, said the other me. Did you think I was dead too?
We are not so easy shot of our acquaintance. Hush, hush,
explained the doctor. Hush, hush, this meeting is so unexpected. I
can see you are unmanned. I hardly knew you, I confess at first.
But I am overjoyed, overjoyed to have this opportunity. For the present
it must be how do you do? And good bye? In one for
my fly is waiting and I must not fail the train. But you shall
let me see. Yes, you shall give me your address, and you
can count on early news of me. We must do something for you fettis.
I fear you were out at elbows. But we must see to that.
For old langzan As once we sang at suppers, money cried fetis,
money from you. The money that I had from you is lying when I
cast it in the rain. Doctor mac farland had talked himself into some measure
of superiority and confidence. But the uncommon energy of this refusal cast him back
into his first confusion. A horrible, ugly look came and went across his
almost venerable countenance. But my dear fellow, he said, be it,
be it as you please. My last thought is to offend you a I
would intrude on none. I will leave you my address, However I do
not wish it. I do not wish to know the roof that shelters you
interrupted the other I heard your name. I feared it might be you.
I wished to know if, after all there were a god. I know
now there is none. Be gone. He still stood in the midst of
the rug between the stairs and the doorway, and the great London Physician,
in order to escape, would be forced to step to one side. It
was plain that he hesitated before the thought of this humiliation. Quite as he
was, there was a dangerous glitter in his spectacles. But while he still
paused, uncertain, he became aware that the driver of his fly was peering
in from the street at this unusual scene, and caught a glimpse at the
same time of our little body from the parlor by the corner of the barn.
The presence of so many witnesses sided him at once to flee. He
crouched together, brushing on the wainscot, and made a dart like a serpent,
striking for the door. But his tribulation was not yet entirely at an
end, for even as he was passing, Fetis clutched him by the arm,
and these words came in a whispering, yet painfully distinct. Have you
seen it again? The great rich London doctor, cried out aloud with a
sharp, throttling cry. He dashed his questioner across the open space, and
with his hands over his head, fled out the door like a detected thief.
Before it had occurred to one of us to make a movement, the
flight was already rattling toward the station. The scene was over, like a
dream, but the dream had left proofs and traces of its passage. The
next day the servant found the fine gold spectacles broken on the threshold, And
that very night we were all standing breathless by the barroom window, and Fetis
at are aside, sober and pale and resolute in look, God protect us,
mister Fettis, said the landlord, coming first into possession of his customary
senses. What in the universe is all this? These are strange things you
have been saying. Fetis turned toward us. He looked us, each in
succession in the face. See if you can hold your tongue, said he,
That man mac Farland is not safe to cross. Those that have done
so already have repented it too late. And then, without so much as
finishing his third glass, far less waiting for the other two, he bade
us good by and went forth under the lamp of the hotel into the black
night. We three turned to our places in the parlor and the big red
fire and four clear candles, and as we recapitulated what had passed, the
first chill of our surprise soon changed into a glow of curiosity. We sat
late. It was the latest session I have known in the old George.
Each man before we parted had his theory that he was bound to prove.
And none of us had any nearer business in this world than to track out
the past of our condemned companion. And I suppose the secret that he shared
with the great London doctor. It's no great boast, but I believe I
was a better hand at worming out a story than either of my fellows at
the George. And perhaps there is now no other man alive who could narrate
it to you and tell you the following foul and unnatural events. In his
young days, Fetis studied medicine and schools of Edinburgh. He had talent of
a kind, the talent that picks up swiftly on what it hears and readily
retails it for its own. He worked little at home, but he was
civil, attentive, and intelligent in the presence of his masters. They soon
picked him out as a lad who listened closely and remembered well. Nay strange
as it seemed to me when I first heard it, He was in those
days well favored and pleased by his exterior. There was at that period a
certain extramural teacher of anatomy, whom I shall here designate by the letter K.
His name was subsequently too well known, the man who bore its s
cult through the streets of Edinburgh in disguise, while the mob that applauded at
the execution of Burke called loudly for the blood of his employer. But mister
Kay was then at the top of his beaux vogue. He enjoyed a popularity
due partly to his own talent and addressed partly to the incapacity of his rival,
the university professor. The students at least swore by his name, and
Fetis believed himself and was believed by others, to have laid the foundations of
success when he had acquired the favor of this meteorically famous man. Mister Kay
was a beau vivant as well as an accomplished teacher. He liked a sly
allusion no less than a careful preparation. In both capacities, Fetis enjoyed and
deserved his notice, and by the second year of his attendance he held the
half regular position of second demonstrator or sub assistant in his class. In this
capacity, the charge of the theater and lecture room devolved in particular upon his
shoulders. He had to answer for the cleanliness of the premises and the conduct
of the other students, and it was a part of his duty to supply,
receive, and divide the various subjects. It was with a view to
this last, at that time very delicate affair, that he was lodged by
mister Kay in the same wind and at last in the same building with the
dissecting room. Here, after a night of turbulent pleasures, his hands still
tottering, his sight still misty and confused, he would be called out of
bed in the black hours before the winter dawn by the unclean and desperate interlopers
who supplied the table. He would open the door to these men, since
infamous throughout the land. He would help them with their tragic burden, pay
them their sordid price, and remain alone when they were gone with the unfriendly
relics of humanity. From such a scene, would return to snatch another hour
or two of slumber, to repair the abuses of the night, and refresh
himself for the labors of the day. Few lads could have been more insensible
to the impressions of a life thus passed among the ensigns of mortality. His
mind was closed against all general considerations. He was incapable of interest in the
fate and fortunes of another, the slave of his own desires and low ambitions,
cold light and selfish. In the last resort, he had that modicum
of prudence miscalled morality, which keeps a man from inconvenient drunkenness or punishable theft.
He coveted besides a measure of consideration from his masters and his fellow pupils,
and he had no desire to fail conspicuously in the external parts of life.
Thus he made it his pleasure to gain some distinction in his studies,
and day of to day rendered unimpeachable eye service to his employer, mister Kay.
For his day of work, he indemnified himself by knights of roaring blackguardly
enjoyment, And when that balance had been struck, the organ that he called
his conscience declared his self content. The supply of subjects was a continual trouble
to him as well as to his master. In that large and busy class.
The raw material of the anatomists kept perpetually running out, and the business
thus rendered necessary was not only unpleasant in itself, but threatened dangerous consequences to
all who were concerned. It was the policy of mister Kay to ask no
questions in his dealings with the trade. They bring the body, and we
pay the price, he used to say, dwelling on the alliteration quid pro
quo, and again, somewhat profanely ask no questions. He would tell his
assistance for conscience sake. There was no understanding that the subjects were provided by
the crime of murder. Had that idea had been broached to him in words,
he would have recoiled in horror. But the likeness of his speech upon
so grave a matter was in itself an offense against good manners, and a
temptation to the men with whom he dealt. Fetis, for instance, had
often remarked to himself upon the singular freshness of the bodies, he had been
struck again and again by the hang dog abominable look of the Ruffians who came
to him before the dawn, and putting things together clearly in his private thoughts
he perhaps attributed a meaning too immoral and too categorical to the unguarded councils of
his master. He understood his duty, in short, to have three branches,
to take what was brought, to pay the price, and to avert
the eye from any evidence of crime. One November morning, this policy of
silence was put sharply to the test. He had been awake all night with
a racking toothache, pacing his room like a caged beast, or throwing himself
in fury on his bed, and had fallen at last into that profound,
uneasy slumber that so often follows on a night of pain. When he was
awakened by the third or fourth angry repetition to concerted signal, there was a
thin, bright moonshine. It was bitter cold, windy, and frosty.
The town had not yet awakened, but an indefinable stir already precluded the noise
and business of the day. The ghouls had come later than usual, and
they seemed more than usually eager to be gone. Fedis sick with sleep lighted
them upstairs. He heard their grumbling irish voices through a dream, and as
they stripped the sack from their sad merchandise, he leaned, dozing with his
shoulder propped against the wall. He had to shake himself to find the men
their money, As he did so, his eyes lighted on the dead face.
He started. He took two steps nearer with the candle. Right,
God Almighty, that is Jane Gollbraith. The men answered nothing, but they
shuffled nearer the door. Why I know where, I tell you, he
continued. She was alive and hearty yesterday. It's impossible she can be dead.
It's it's impossible. You should have got this body fairly, chaucer.
You must iChon entirely, said one of the men. But the other looked
feedis darkly in the eyes and demanded the money on the spot. It was
impossible to misconceive the threat or to exaggerate the danger. The lad's heart failed
him. He stammered some excuses, counted out the summon, saw his hateful
visitors depart. No sooner were they gone than he hastened to confirm his doubts
by a dozen unquestionable marks. He identified the girl he had jested with the
day before. He saw with horror marks upon her body that might well betoken
violence. The panic seized him, and he took refuge in his room.
There he reflected at length over the discovery that he had made, considered soberly
the bearing of mister Kay's instructions and the danger to himself of interference in so
serious a business, and at last, in sore perplexity, determined to wait
for the advice of his immediate superior, the class assistant. This was a
young doctor Wolf mac farlane, a high favorite among all the reckless students.
Clever, dissipated, and unscrupulous to the last degree. He had traveled and
studied abroad. His manners were agreeable and a little forward. He was an
authority on the stage, skillful on the ice or the links, with skate
or golf club. He dressed with nice audacity, and to put the finishing
touch upon his glory, he kept a gig in a strong trotting horse with
fettis. He was on terms of intimacy. Indeed, their relative positions called
for some community of life, and when subjects were scarce, the pair would
drive far into the country in mc farland's gig, visit and desecrate some lonely
graveyard, and returned before dawn with their booty to the door of the dissecting
room. On that particular morning, mc farland arrived somewhat earlier than his wont
Fetts heard him and met him on the stairs, told him his story,
and showed him the cause of his alarm. Mac farland examined the marks on
her body. Yes, he said, with a nod, it looks fishy.
Well, well what should I do? Asked Fetis? Do repeat the
other? Do you want to do anything? Least? Said soonest men?
Did? I should say? Some one else might recognize her, objected Fettis.
She was as well known as the castle rock, we'll hope not,
said mc farland. And but it does well you didn't, don't you say?
And there's an end to it. The fact is this has been going
on too long. Stir up the mud and you'll get kay into the most
unholy trouble. You'll be in a shocking box yourself, So will I if
you come to that. I should like to know how any of us would
look, or what the devil we should have to say for ourselves in any
Christian witness box. For me, you know there's one thing certain that practically
speaking, all our subjects have been murdered. MacFarland cried, Fettis, come
now, sneered the other, as if you hadn't suspected it yourself. Well,
Suspecting is one thing, and proof another. Yes, I know,
and I'm as sorry as you are. This should have come here tapping the
body with his cane. The next best thing for me is not to recognize
it, and he added coolly, I don't you may if you please.
I don't dictate, but I think a man of the world would do as
I do, And I may add I fancy that is what kay would look
for at your hands. The question, of course, is why did each
choose us too for his assistance? And I answered because he didn't want old
wives. This was the tone of all others to affect the mind of a
lad like Feedis. He agreed to imitate mac farlane. The body of the
unfortunate girl was duly dissected, and no one remarked or appear to recognize her.
One afternoon in his day's works were over, Fedis dropped into a popular
tavern and found mac Farland sitting with a stranger. This was a small man,
very pale and dark, with cold black eyes. The cut of his
features gave a promise of intellect and refinement, which was but feebly realized in
his manners, For he proved upon a nearer acquaintance. Coarse, vulgar,
and stupid. He exercised, however, a very remarkable control over. MacFarlane
issued orders like the Great bashoror became inflamed at the least discussion or delay,
and commented rudely on the civility with which he was a babe. This most
offensive person took a fancy to feedis on the spot, plied him with drinks,
and honored him than usual confidences on his past career. If a tenth
part of what he confessed were true, he was a very loathsome rogue,
and the lad's vanity was tickled by the attention of so experienced a man.
I'm a pretty bad fellow myself, the stranger remarked. But mac farland,
he's a boy, Toddy mc farland. I call him totty. Why are
you find another glass? Or it might be totty you jump up and shut
the door Toarty hates me? He said again, Oh yes, totty you
do. Don't you call me that confounded name, growled mc farland. Hear
him. Did you ever see the lads play knife? He'd like to do
that all over my body, remarked the stranger. We medicals have a better
way than that, said Fettis. When we dislike a dead friend of ours,
we dissect him. Mc farland looked up sharply, as though this jest
was scarcely to his mind. The afternoon passed, Gray, for that was
the stranger's name, invited Fettis to join them at dinner, ordered a feasts
so sumptuous that the tavern was thrown in commotion, and when all was done,
commanded mac farland to settle the bill. It was late before they separated.
The man Gray was incapably drunk. MacFarland, sobered by his fury,
chewed to the cut of the money he had been forced to squander, and
the slights he had been obliged to swallow, Fedis, with various liquors singing
in his head, returned home with devious footsteps and a mind entirely in abeyance.
Next day mac farland was absent from the class, and Feedis smiled to
himself as he imagined him still squiring the intolerable Gray from tavern to tavern.
As soon as the hour of liberty had struck, he posted from place to
place in quest of his last night's companions. He could find them however,
nowhere, so returned early to his rooms, went early to bed, and
slept the sleep of the trust. At four in the morning, he was
awakened by the well known signal. Descending to the door, he was filled
with astonishment to find mac farlane with his gig, and in the gig one
of those long and ghastly packages with which he was so well acquainted. What,
he cried, Have you been out alone? How did you manage?
But mc farland silenced him, roughly, bidding him turn to business. When
they had got the body upstairs and laid it on the table, mac farland
made it first as if he were going away. Then he paused and seemed
to hesitate. And then you had better look at the face, said mc
farland, In terms of some constraint. You had better, he repeated,
as Fetis only stared at him in wonder. But but where and how and
when did you come by? It cried the other. Look at the face
was the only answer. Fetis was staggered. Strange doubts assailed him. He
looked from the young doctor to the body, and then back again. At
last, with a start, he did as he was bidden. He had
almost expected the sight that met his eyes, and yet the shock was cruel
to see fixed him the rigidity of death, and naked on that course layer
of sackcloth, the man whom he had left well clad and full of meat,
and upon the threshold of a tavern, awoke even in the thoughtless Fetis
some of the terrors of the conscience. It was a grass tibby which re
echoed in his soul that two whom he had known should have come to lie
upon these icy tables. Yet these were only secondary thoughts. His first concern
regarded Wolf. Unprepared for a challenge so momentous, he knew not how to
look his comrade in the face. He durst not meet his eye, and
he had neither words nor voice at his command. It was mac Farland himself
who made the first advance. He came up quietly behind and laid his hand
gently but firmly on the other shoulder. Richardson said, he may have the
head. Now. Richardson was a student who had long been anxious for that
portion of the human subject to dissect. There was no answer, and the
murderer resumed a talking of business. You must pay me your accounts, you
see, must tally Fetis found a voice, the ghost of his own.
Pay you, He cried you for that? Why, yes, yes,
course you must, by all means, and on every possible account, you
must returned the other. I dare not give it for nothing. You dare
not take it for nothing. It would compromise us both. This is another
case like Chain Galbraate's. The more things are wrong, the more we must
act as if all were right. Where does O Kay keep his money?
There, answered Feedis, hoarsely, pointing to a cupboard in the corner.
Give me the key, then said the other, calmly, holding out his
hand. There was an instant's hesitation, and the die was cast. Mac
Farland could not suppress a nervous twitch, the infinitesimal mark of an immense relief,
as he felt the key between his fingers. He opened the cupboard,
brought out pen and ink, and a paper book that stood in one compartment
and separated from the fronts in a drawer, a sum suitable to the occasion.
Now look here, he said, there is the payment made, first
proof of your good fate, first step to your security. You have now
to clinch it by a second. Enter the payment in your book, and
then you for your part may defy the devil. The next few seconds were
for Fettis an agony of thought, but in balancing his terrors, it was
the most immediate the triumph. Any future difficulty seemed almost welcome if he could
avoid a present quarrel with mac farland. He set down the candle which he
had been carrying all his time, and with his steady hand entered the date,
the nature, and the amount of the transaction. And now said mc
farland, it's only fair that you should pocket the lucre. I've had my
share already by the bye. When a man of the world falls into a
bit of luck, he has a few shillings extra in his pocket. I'm
ashamed to speak of it, but there's a rule of conduct in the case.
No treating, no purchase of expensive class books, no squaring of old
debts, borrow, don't lend. Mac farland began feedtis, still somewhat hoarsely.
I've put my neck a halter to oblige you, to oblige me,
cried wolf. Come you did, as near as I can see the matter,
what you downright had to do in self defense? Suppose I got into
trouble, Where would you be this second little matter flows clearly from the first.
Mister Gray, is the continuation of miss Galbray. You can't begin and
then stop. If you begin, you must keep on beginning. That's the
truth. No rest for the wicked. A horrible sense of blackness and the
treachery of fate seized hold upon the soul of the unhappy student. My god,
he cried, but what have I done? And when did I begin
to be made a class assistant? In the name of reason? Where's the
harm in that service wanted? The position service might have got it? Would
he have been where I am now? My dear fellow, said mc crarly,
What a boy you are? What harm has come to you? What
harm can come to you? If you your tongue? Why? Men,
do you know what this life is? There are two squads of us,
the lions and the lambs. If you're a lamb, you'll come to lie
upon these tables, like Gray or Jane Galbray. If you're a lion,
you'll live and drive a horse like me, like Kay, like all the
world with any witted courage. You're staggered at the first, But look at
Kay, my dear fellow, you're clever. You have pluck. I like
you, and Kay likes you. You were born to lead the hunt.
And I tell you, on my honor and my experience of life, three
days from now you'll laugh at all these scarecrows like a high school boy at
a farce. And with that mac Farland took his departure and drove off up
the wind in his gig to get under cover before daylight. Fedis was thus
left alone with his regrets. He saw the miserable peril in which he stood
involved. He saw with inexpressible dismay, that there was no limit to his
weakness, and that from concession to concession he had fallen, from the arbiter
of Macfarland's destiny to his paid and helpless accomplice. He would have given the
world to have been a little braver at the time, but it did not
occur to him that he might still be brave. The secret of Jane Galbray
and the cursed entry in the day Book closed his mouth. Hours passed as
the class began to arrive. The members of the Unhappy Gray were dealt out
to one and to another, and received without remark. Richardson was made happy
with the head, and before the hour of freedom, rang Fetis trembled with
exultation to perceive how far they had already gone towards safety. For two days
he continued to watch with increasing joy the dreadful process of disguise. On the
third day, MacFarlane made his appearance. He had been ill, he said,
but he made up for lost time by the energy with which he directed
the student. To Richardson in particular, he extended the most valuable assistance and
advice, and that student, encouraged by the praise of the demonstrator, burned
high with ambition hopes, and saw the meddle already in his grasp. Before
the week was out, mac Farland's prophecy had been fulfilled, Fedis, had
outlived his terrors and had forgotten his baseness. He began to plume himself upon
his courage, and had so arranged the story in his mind that he could
look back on these events with an unhealthy pride of his accomplice. He saw.
But little they met, of course, in the business of the class.
They received their orders together from mister Kay. At times they had a
word or two in private, and mac farland was from first to last particularly
kind and jovial. But it was plain that he avoided any reference to their
common secret, And even when Fedis whispered to him that he had cast in
his lot with the lions and forsworn the lambs, he only signed to him
smilingly, to hold his peace at length. An occasion arose which threw the
pair once more into a closer union. Mister Kay was again short of subjects.
Pupils were eager, and it was a part of this teacher's pretensions to
be always well supplied. At the same time, there came the news of
a burial in the rustic graveyard of Glen Coose. Time has little changed the
place in question. It stood then as now upon a cross road, out
of call of human habitations, and buried fathoms deep in the foliage of six
cedar trees. The cries of the sheep upon the neighboring hills, the streamlets
upon either hand, one loudly singing among pebbles, the other dripping furtively from
pond to pond, the stir of the wind in the mountainous old flowering chestnuts,
and once in seven days the voice of the bell, and the old
tombs of the precenter were the only sounds that disturbed the silence round the rural
church. The resurrection man, to use a by name of the period,
was not to be deterred by any of the sanctities of customary piety. It
was part of his trade to despise and desecrate the scrolls and trumpets of old
tombs, the paths worn by the feet of worshippers and mourners, and the
offerings and the inscription of bereaved affection to rustic neighborhoods where love is more than
commonly tenacious, and where some bonds of blood or fellowship unite the entire society
of a parish. The body snatcher, far from being repelled by natural respect,
was attracted by the ease and safety of the task to bodies that had
been laid in earth in joyful expectation of a far different awakening. There came
that hasty, lamp lit terror, haunted resurrection of the spade and mattic.
The coffin was forced, the crements torn, and the melancholy relics clad in
sackcloth, after being rattled for hours on moonless byways, were at length exposed
to uttermost indignities. For a class of gaping boys somewhat as two vultures may
swoop upon a dying lamb. Fetus and MacFarlane were to be let loose upon
a grave in that green and quiet resting place. The wife of a farmer,
a woman who had lived for sixty years and been known for nothing but
good butter and a godly conversation, was to be rooted from her grave at
midnight and carried dead and naked to that far away city that she had always
honored with her Sunday's best. The place beside her family was to be empty
till the crack of doom, her innocent and almost venerable members to be exposed
to that last curiosity of the anatomist. Late one afternoon, the pair set
forth, well wrapped in cloaks and furnished with a formidable bottle. It rained
without remission a cold, dense, lashing rain. Now and again there blew
a puff of wind, but these sheets of falling water kept it down,
bottle and all. It was a sad and silent drive as far as Pennacock,
where they were to spend the evening. They stopped once to hide their
implements in a thick bush not far from the churchyard, and once again at
the Fisher's tryst to have a toast before the kitchen fire and bary their nips
of whisky with a glass of ale. When they reached their journey's end,
the gig was The horse was fed and comforted, and the two young doctors,
in a private room sat down to the best dinner and the best wine
the house afforded. The lights, the fire, the beating rain upon the
window, the cold, incongruous work that lay before them added zest to their
enjoyment of the meal. With every glass their cordiality increased. Soon mac farland
handed a little pile of gold to his companion, a compliment, he said,
between friends, these little damned accommodations ought to fly like pipe lights.
Ferris pocketed the money and applauded the sentiment to the echo. You are a
philosopher, he cried, I was an ass till I knew you. You'll
encave between you by the Lord Harry, but you'll make a man out of
maid. Of course, we will have lauded mc farland a man. I
tell you, it required a man to back me up. The other morning,
there are some big brawling forty year old cowards who would have turned sick
at the sight of the damn thing. But not you. You kept your
head. I watched you well, and why not Feris thus paunted himself.
There was no affair of mine. There was nothing to gain on the one
side but disturbance. And on the other I could count on your gratitude,
don't you say? And he slapped his pocket till the gold pieces rang.
Mac Farland somehow felt a certain touch of alarm at these unpleasant words. He
may have regretted that he had taught his young companion so successfully, but he
had no time to interfere. For the other noisily continued in this boastful strain.
The great thing is not to be afraid. Now between you and me,
I don't want to hang, and it's practical. But for all,
count mac Farland, I was born with a contempt o God, devil,
right, wrong, sin, crime, and all the other old gallery of
curiosity. They may frighten boys, but men of the world like you and
me despise them. Here's to the memory of Gray. It was by this
time growing somewhat late. The gig, according to was brought round to the
door with both lamps brightly shining, and the young men had to pay their
bill and take the road. They announced that they were bound for Peebles,
and drove in that direction till they were clear of the last houses of the
town. Then, extinguishing the carriage lamps, were turned upon their course and
followed a by road toward Glen Course. There was no sound but that of
their own passage and the incessant, strident pouring of the rain. It was
pitch dark, and here and there a white gate or a white stone in
the wall guided them for a short space across the night. But for the
most part it was at a foot pace and almost groping, that they picked
their way through that resonant blackness to their solemn and isolated destination in the sunken
woods that traverse the neighborhood of the burying ground. The last glimmer failed them,
and it became necessary to kindle a match and re illumine one of the
lanters of the gig. Thus, under the dripping trees, and environed by
huge and moving shadows, they reached the scene of their unhallowed labors. They
were both experienced in such affairs and powerful with the spade, and they had
scarce been twenty minutes at their task before they were rewarded by a dull rattle
on the coffin lid. At the same time, mac Farlane, having hurt
his hand upon a stone, flung it carelessly above his head. The grave
in which they now stood almost to the shoulders, was close to the edge
of the plateau of the graveyard, and the gig lamp had been propped,
the better to illuminate their labors. Against a tree, and on the immediate
verge of the steep bank descending to the stream. Chance had taken a sure
aim with the stone. Then came a clang of broken glass. Night fell
upon them. Sounds, alternately dull and ringing, announced the bounding of the
lantern down the bank, and its occasional collision with the trees. A stone
or two, which it had dislodged in its descent, rattled behind it into
the profundities of the glen. And then silence, like night resumed its sway,
and they might bend their hearing to its utmost pitch, but naught was
to be heard except the rain, now marching to the wind now steadily falling
over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their
bared task, that they judged it wisest to complete it in the dark.
The coffin was exhumed and broken open, the body inserted in the dripping sack,
and carried between them to the gig, one mounted to keep it in
its place, and the other, taking the horse by the mouth, roped
along by wall and bush until they reached the wider road. By the fissure's
tryst, here was a faint, diffused radiancy, which they hailed like daylight.
By that they pushed the horse to a good pace, and began to
rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted
to the skin during their operations, and now as the gig jumped among the
deep ruts, the thing that stood propped between them fell now upon one,
and now upon the other. At every repetition of the horrid contact, each
instinctively repelled it with a greater haste, and the process natural enough, as
it was began to tell upon the nerves of the companions. Mac Farland made
some ill favored jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his
lips and was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from
side to side, And now the head would be laid, as if in
confidence, upon their shoulders. And now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about
their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fetis. He
peered at the bundle, and it seemed somewhat larger than at first. All
over the countryside, or from every degree of distance, the farm dogs accompanied
their passage with tragic eululations. And it grew and grew upon his mind that
some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that some nameless change had befallen the dead
body, and that it was in fear of their unholy burden. The dogs
were howling. For God's sake, said he, making a great have to
arrive at speech. For God's sakes, let's have a light. Seemingly,
mac Farland was effected in the same direction, for though he made no reply,
he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion, got down,
and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that time got
no further than the cross road down the och and clime The rain still poured
as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy matter to make
a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last the
flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to expand and clarify,
and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the gig, it became
possible for the two young men to see each other and the thing they had
along with them. The rain had molded the rough sacking to the outlines of
the body underneath. The head was distinct from the trunk, the shoulders plainly
modeled something at once spectral and human. Riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade
of their drive. For some time, McFarland stood motionless, holding up the
lamp. A nameless dread was swathed like a wet sheet about the body and
tightened the white skin upon the face of fetis, A fear that was meaningless,
a horror of what could not be kept mounting to his brain. Another
beat of the watch and he had spoken, but his comrade forestalled him.
It that is not a woman, said mac farland in a hushed voice.
It was a woman when we put her in whispered, EDDI hold that lamp,
said the other, I must must see her face. As Fetis took
the lamp, his companion untied the fastenings of the sack and drew down the
cover from the head. The light fell very clear upon the dark, well
molded features and smooth shaven cheeks of a too familiar countenance often beheld in dreams
of both of these young men. A wild yell rang up into the night.
Each leaped from his own side into the roadway. The lamp fell broke
and was extinguished, and the horse, terrified by this unusual commotion, bounded
and went off towards Edinburgh at a gallop, bearing along with it sole occupant
of the gig, the body of the dead and long dissected gray and of
the body snatched by Robert Louis Stevenson