Marietta, or the Two Students

Front matter

MARIETTA,

OR THE

TWO STUDENTS.

Chapter I: The Dissecting Room

MARIETTA,

OR THE

TWO STUDENTS.

CHAPTER I.

The Dissecting Room.

"How pale and still is the face of this fair corse; what a mild, softened expression lingers about the yet fair mouth, how indicative of rest.

See the eyelids, with their dark fringes closed fast over the sightless balls; mark the "rapture of repose" upon the changeless brow; note how quietly those jetty tresses of hair lay on the colorless cheek.

This little white hand, with its long taper fingers, which has been, doubtless, clasped in, and returned the warm pressure of a lover's, lays like a lump of ice in mine, or falls inertly to the table.—And these beautifully rounded limbs, which bespeak the highest effort of a creative power, how unconsciously they rest here.

Gods! how lovely. And yet this is death; but never before gazed I upon death in such a guise;—never saw so much calm beauty pictured upon the features of the dead.

I shrink from, and falter in my purpose; I would not mar such a model of human loveliness. How can I disfigure that angelic face—how can I cut, piece meal, the flesh from those delicate limbs, and observe daily the ravages of the scalpel, coupled with the wasting progress of decay, converting it—that corse—into all that is loathsome.

And yet, forsooth, I must do it. The noble study which I am pursuing demands it, though the gentler impulses revolt from the procedure.

Why should I hesitate? Would not the foul lips of the worm, and the chill breath of the tomb produce more awful changes upon this symmetrical clay?—Aye! the primeval curse still rests upon it, and it shall crumble again to its dust, although the protection of a score of leaden coffins were thrown about it. I feel this mode of reasoning is correct, yet I shudder at the idea of mutilating the body of this young girl."

Having uttered slowly, and with a saddened expression these words, the medical student—for so it was—seated himself thoughtfully beside the subject, over which he had been standing. He was a young man of twenty-three years, of the nervous temperament,—with light hair, and dark blue eyes. His face was pale, indicating much firmness, and self-control, while the contour of his person was slight, not very tall, nor ungraceful.

He was evidently a deep and continual thinker, and though so young, there were thought-furrows legibly imprinted upon his forehead. He wore, as is often the case among medical students, a frock, or garb of india-rubber cloth, fastened loosely about the middle by a belt, with the sleeves buttoned closely about the wrist. Gloves of oiled silk were upon his hands, and between the thumb and fingers of the right he held, with gentle grasp, a common scalpel, the bright blade of which seemed slow to perform its accustomed work. A case of dissecting instruments lay open upon the table, near his left, consisting of tenacula, scissors, small forceps, knives of various shapes, adapted to the various uses into which they might be called, with needles, etc. etc.

Two lamps were burning, by the aid of which he was to perform his not enviable task. The room was small, and the upper one of a three story building. Directly over the body was a window, which during the day admitted sufficient light to serve the purpose of the student, or students, as the case might be. The door was carefully closed and locked, for reasons obvious.

"Ah death!" resumed the student, "thou art a mysterious thing,—a change whether for good or evil I am puzzled to know, and cannot even guess. But in this instance I feel that thou art no unfriendly visitant, else thou wouldst not leave such peaceful, benignant lines upon this young face.

Death! I have looked upon thee often, and in every form, but never knew thee stripped of thy terrors, and mild, and smiling on me thus. When the numbers whose aggregate tells the sum of my existence, shall be counted upon the dial of life, then, inscrutable power, visit me thus, and I will not curse thy approach."

Here the pale student was interrupted in his soliloquy by several raps on the door, repeated at regular intervals.—Without a word he arose, unlocked and opened it. Two persons entered, threw off their overcoats, and with a glance towards the corpse seated themselves by a small stove, apparently for the purpose of warming their hands; for a cold December night was that.

The eldest of the two was about thirty-five years of age. His height, the width of his chest, and the size of his limbs, would have done credit to an athlete in the Olympic games, and been the boast of the Gymnasium, had it been his fortune to move in that particular sphere.

But it was not to be thus: he was to be a doctor of medicine; and it is in this very reputable capacity that we have the honor to make his acquaintance.

His hair was of an ebony blackness, very long, and without the least inclination to curl, which is so frequently the case in romances, and legends, while his face was broad and swarthy; his eyes corresponded admirably with the color of his locks, and were restless and piercing.

His person was a perfect model of muscular developement and manliness. There was an expression of good humor upon his open countenance, which would invariably win one's confidence and good will at first sight. Dr. Frene—this was his name—was deeply versed in the knowledge of his profession, and had neglected no opportunity to become thoroughly acquainted with its various branches. Consequently he enjoyed the reputation of being very skilful in the healing art, which reputation he really merited.

If the Doctor had any failings—which is an immunity few can boast—they were towards "virtue's side," that is towards "the sex." There had been certain vague rumors in circulation, among the gossips of the vicinity, in regard to intrigues with married ladies, assignations &c, in the absence of the deceived and much to be commiserated husbands.—But let this pass, and suffice it to say, that the doctor was a man of noble and generous impulses, and possessed of a soul, which, if not sin-less was capacious, and destitute of meanness. With this remark, which I could not conscientiously make of all his acquaintance, I proceed.

The other individual who accompanied the doctor, was a student much younger, less powerful in form, of fairer complexion, yet more elegant in person, softer in manners, and by some would have been considered more comely His hair was dark a brown, his countenance more ruddy, and his temperament partook more of the sanguine, than either of his companions.

"You have a second subject,"! said the Doctor, after holding his hands to the stove for a moment, addressing himself to the first student.

"I have," replied Levator, who had again resumed his seat beside the table as before, with the scalpel in his hand.

"Have you commenced the dissection?"

"No; and I do not think I shall."

"Do not think you shall! What is the matter with you now? Another fit of melancholy, I expect."

"Nothing of the kind, doctor."

"Why do you sit there then, as moodily as though you were listening to a sermon on future punishment."

"Doctor," replied the latter, rising, and looking him calmly in the face, and with great seriousness, "you are a feeling man, and sensitive; look at this corpse," And drawing gently aside the white cloth which covered the dead, he folded his arms upon his chest, and stepped back to give the doctor and his fellow student an opportunity of seeing.

The doctor gazed for a few moments in silence upon the face of the dead, then with a softened expression turned away, saying,

"Lovely, very lovely! death sits lightly and pleasantly upon those features."

"I cannot mutilate that form, doctor. I have essayed to do so several times, and as often relinquished the attempt.—I have reasoned myself into the belief that I could, and would commence, and when I have with the scalpel in my hand turned towards the body, I have relented, and shrunk from the self-imposed task."

Tis quite natural that you should not wish to mar the strange beauty of this subject, it being a female too. Still I do not think it should prevent you from making the dissection."

"I cannot, and I will not carry the edge of this instrument across this fair form," was the firm rejoinder of Levator.

"Then I suppose I must," said the second student, advancing to the table, and examining the edge of a scalpel.—With your assistance and directions, doctor, I shall, I imagine, make a very decent dissection, although I am astonished at the scruples of Levator. I will now disfigure the face, in order that it may not be recognized, providing it should be discovered by any of the friends of the deceased."

"Eugene," exclaimed Levator with energy, as he beheld him raise the knife, in the attitude of making an incision transversely across the brow, "desist; you shall not disfigure a single lineament of that face. That subject, you will allow, is mine, so far as the purchase of it can make it so; and I presume you will not hesitate to affirm that I have a right to dispose of it as I shall think proper."

Eugene threw down his scalpel, and looked at his friend as though he were doubting the question of his sanity.

"Am I to understand you to say that I am not to proceed with the dissection, as we intended in the first instance?"

"Exactly, Eugene; nothing more nor less than this. Do you question my right to do so?"

"Certainly not; but permit me to assure you that I think your conduct most singular, not to say absurd."

"Undoubtedly you do, but you have heard my determination."

Eugene turned and looked inquiringly at the doctor, as if entreating him to determine if he could, the questionable point of his friend's rationality. But he appeared equally at a loss to solve the doubt.

"Levator" said the latter, "I can form an idea of the probable cause of your curious resolution. But—no offence—I believe you carry your sensibility too far. What possible harm can it do that body—fair and delicate it is I allow—to dissect it? Will it feel the keen edge of the knife? Will the tender limbs shrink from it, and give intimations of torture? Do you fear that those closed eyes there, will start open, and that clod-like hand will raise itself, and that still tongue will throw off the spell of death, at the first incision, and entreat you to desist? Fie! where is your manhood?"

"Doctor," said Levator, "I will not say that you are unkind in your remarks, for it would be unlike you to be so: but you can scarcely mean what you have last uttered. Have you not seen me, without anything like fear or hesitation, look upon death in all its awful phases—in the form of wrinkled old age—smiling infancy—and at every point between these extremes? Have I not seen it in every stage of decomposition, and in all its loathsome details? Have you not seen me sever joint from joint, and muscles from muscle a score of times, without the least symtoms of emotion?—Speak?"

"I have; and no one can do it with more address and coolness, and it is this fact, contrasted with your present conduct that astonishes me, I have often thought that I never knew a student so indifferent to the "disagreeables" of a dissecting room as yourself; but to-night you are a woman."

"Hold, doctor," said Eugene gaily, "you are wrong this time. If he were a woman you would hardly disagree with him. Confess it, doctor."

"You are not far from the truth, in this instance, Eugene," replied the doctor, good humoredly. "And it is not impossible that you might be on better terms with him, if he were in good faith what I have said."

"Wrong again, Doctor, I have not advanced so far in the "profession" as that; but under your tuition, I hope to make wonderful progress."

"No doubt of it," retorted the doctor, drily, with a twinkle of the eye, which I believe is peculiar to no other man, and wincing slightly, as though he had experienced a sudden pain somewhere about the mouth.

He then stepped to the table, upon which lay the subject, and seemed examining it attentively, as though determining internally where he should commence operations.

He took the scalpel, carried the back of it longitudinally across the chest, apparently for the purpose of giving accuracy to the stroke he should make with the edge.

"Doctor," said Levator calmly, "you have heard what I have said; I need scarcely repeat it."

He then stepped to the table, upon which lay the subject, and seemed examining it attentively, as though determining internally where he should commence operations.

Page 6. "I heard, but could not believe that you really intended what you gave utterance to. It was so unlike you."

"I repeat it then: that body shall not be mutilated with a dissecting knife."

"You are beside yourself."

"I am, on the contrary, perfectly sane."

"What will you do with it then."

"I will return it to the quiet grave from whence it was taken, and get another. A form like this should not be rudely gazed upon, by the curious eye of the vulgar. Oh! no: it shall be laid gently away again in its earthy home, and feel the rough touch of the student at work with its limbs never. The coarse jest of the thoughtless and unfeeling shall never be uttered over it, or fall—unheard though it be—even upon these dead ears!"

While speaking, the form of the pale student seemed to dilate to an unusual size. He was more erect and dignified than he was wont to he; and his companions were struck with his determined air, and such an extraordinary exhibition of firmness in him.

"I perceive that you are really in earnest, and mean to do just what you have said, so I suppose it is of no use to reason with you on the absurdity of your resolve. But I am, I acknowledge, dissatisfied with you. However, let it pass, and when you get another, I shall be at your service, and happy to assist."

Saying this, the doctor and the student departed, leaving Levator alone with his subject.

"They will think I am doing a foolish thing, but no matter, I feel that I am not obstinate, nor wrong in my intentions, and this consoles me. I know not the reason why, yet something I know not what, tells me not to mar this body with the ruthless knife, and I obey the mysterious impulse, even at the hazard of ridicule. I will now find the resurrectionist. He shall place it safely in the tomb, from whence it was taken, unscathed in body or limbs, where it may crumble and mingle peacefully, and in obedience to natural laws with its kindred atoms. Let me look upon it again, the body of that girl—is it possible that it can feel the'desolating touch of putrefaction. I could hope not, and yet it must."

Saying this, he bent over the corpse, and took the cold hand in his. On one of the stiff fingers were two plain rings. Drawing one gently from its place, he replaced it by one from his own; then carefully covering it again, he locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and passed into the street.

Chapter II: The Body-Snatchers

CHAPTER II.

The Body-Snatchers.

The location of our tale is Boston, and the scenes of the first chapter passed in Marshall street, a short one, leading from Union to Hanover street, its date is, 1842.

On Commercial street at this date, near one of the principal wharves, stood a large and rather antique block of buildings with granite front, many of which, had formerly been occupied as trading warehouses, but now on account of their dilapidated condition, were used for other purposes.

Some were used merely as places of storage, while others were occupied as dwelling houses by the more indigent class of laborers, and those who procured a livelihood by no visible means, and yet continued to exist.

One of these tenements, more black and frowning in its external appearance than its neighbors, and which stood near the water, was the residence of several individuals with whom in due time we will make the reader acquainted.

From the first floor to the attic, the interior presented unquestionable evidence of neglect and decay, while but a very few of the apartments could posibly, to all appearance afford accommodation to human beings, they having long ago been abandoned to the exclusive jurisdiction and occupation of rats and mice, or whatever other genus of animals found them convenient and commodious.

Let us enter, beginning at the first door on the left, and see what is passing within. The apartment in which you find yourself was once used as a victualing cellar, and the large board which had announced the gratifying fact to the public, now faded and cracked in an hundred places, is used as a kind of bar to secure the door upon the inside.—Everything here speaks of poverty and wretchedness. There are no chairs, and the deficiency is supplied by a rude bench and blocks, which had the peculiar hues of long use. You are looking for a table; there is none; that remnant of a counter there serves the purpose of one.

You observe two persons. The one is very tall, and nearly or perhaps quite sixty years of age. Did you ever look upon snch a ghastly visage—such a hollow corpse-like cheek—such a thin, sharp nose—such deeply sunken eyes—such a grim deformity for a mouth, whose lips hug closely the toothless gums, and such a frightful distance from the nether lip to the apex of the chin—or did you ever gaze upon such a low, horribly wrinkled forehead, or greyer and more closely matted locks than his?

You never did. Nor would you, were you to look into the grave; for there is not another such face in the universe living or dead, as that old man's. There is not a single lineament of his sharp, colorless features that you can contemplate with pleasure.

A skeleton by some ingenious device of satan, or some one else—invested with a scant covering of skin, might bear some resemblance to him; and this is aught that we have any knowledge of that would. Observe his shrunken body, and long limbs. Is it possible there is life there? Are we indeed in the presence of a mortal? Or one of the many who upon a day, many, very many years ago, stepped out of their graves, and were seen abroad? No; 'tis not one of those, but a wreck of a human being. He is called Gaunt; and is a "body-snatcher."

The other person in physical conformation, differs from him materially; being quite short, very stout, and muscular in form, with features exceedingly coarse and large, full of daring and hardihood. Every part of him is indicative of strength; and he breathes an air of defiance and recklessness. Like his companion, his dress is dark, and of a very ordinary quality, fitting but indifferently.

We will introduce this gentleman as Mr. Thick, he follows for a livelihood the same respectable branch of business as the former. Having given this brief description of these two characters, we will notice the manner in which they are employed. The latter arises from the bench upon which he has been sitting, and after confering a moment with his companion, opens a small door which communicates with a room in the rear of the one in which they now are, and equaling it in every respect so far as filth and wretchedness is concerned. He opens a large chest, which sits in an obscure corner of the apartment, and with some little effort, takes from it a sack which contains apparently some heavy material. The door is cautiously secured by Gaunt, and they hesitate a few moments before proceeding, as if to assure themselves that they are entirely free from interruption. They now undo the fastenings of the sack, then reversing it, a human body in its grave-dress falls heavily and with a startling dull sound to the floor. Now they commence disrobing it, throwing each piece of that last habit upon the few embers that are glowing upon the broken hearth stone. While—emiting a nauseating ffleuvia,—they are devoured by the scorching element.

The work is soon done, and the body of what was but a short time since a strong man in the very prime of life, is before them in perfect nudity. They contemplate it with the greatest apparent satisfaction; examining like connoisseurs the well rounded limbs, full chest, and muscular developement.

"A stout fellow was this," said Thick, regarding his friend with a satisfied air; there must have been great power in these large muscles and finely formed hands." "You say truly, but he's tame enough now Thick, although I would take my oath that a few days ago he would have been more than a match for you."

"A good subject. I never saw a better, Gaunt."

"I agree with you that I never saw a better: but the young girl we sold to that pale student Levator, how much handsomer to look upon."

"Right, Gaunt, for once. I never beheld anything in the shape of death, so fair. That female, she must have been very beautiful when living."

"I don't think that would follow as a natural consequence. Many homely persons make a handsome corpse."

"I would like to see you after you are dead, Gaunt, if what you say is true."

"I should look quite respectable, I assure you."

"Die then by all means for your own credit, and the sake of your friends."

"That must be a great change, though, which makes you a respectable man. I can think of only one greater; that which makes you honest. But to speak to the point, what are we to receive for this corpse."

"All we can get, which should not be a trifle. We have risked much to get it; our reputation."

"A great hazard for us both, by G—," replied Gaunt, laughing in a manner that fully explained all he felt in regard to the absurdity of the idea.

"And the risk of detection is not all. Gaunt, the labor must also be reckoned in the account beside the intrinsic value of the body."

"Exactly."

"And look! Gaunt, as I performed most of the labor, I shall be entitled as a matter of course, to the largest share of the money."

"I don't see the force of that argument."

"Here is the force of the argument," replied Thick, quickly, holding up both his enormous fists in a very peculiar manner before Gaunt, "do you see it any better now."

"Yes I understand," replied Gaunt, stepping back to make a wider space between himself and Thick, "but it is not fair."

Thick was about to apply his most cogent reasons in justification of the course he had marked out to pursue, when a knocking without interrupted the proceedings and put an end to the interesting process.

"Who's there," growled Thick, surlily placing himself against the door, while Gaunt was endeavoring with all his strength to drag the corpse into the adjoining room.

"Levator," said a voice without, "let me in. I have business with you." The bar is taken from the door, and the pale student whom we left an hour ago with the fair subject, enters, and the entrance is again barricaded as previously.

"Glad to see you, doctor"—(he always called him doctor when he wished to be obliged,) said Thick with an attempt to look very amiable, I have one of the finest subjects you ever put the knife to—a full grown man—died suddenly—muscles well developed—do you good to look at it."

"Is it a very recent one," inquired the student.

Quite—died three days since—buried yesterday—raised last night—a heavy fellow—much as I could do to drag him from the coffin—knife will go through it so smooth—can make a clean dissection—come and see."

"Very good indeed," replied Levator, looking attentively at the body. It will answer my purpose admirably.—It is quite fresh—in an excellent state of preservation. What price do you set upon it, Mr. Thick,"

"Thirty-five dollars."

"That is exorbitant."

"Not a cent less, doctor."

"That is more than I have ever given."

"You never had so good a subject."

"It is a very fine one, Thick, and I will give you thirty."

"Say five, doctor, and it is yours."

"Not a farthing more."

"What do you think, Gaunt,"' said Thick thoughtfully, leaning towards that worthy person, "shall we, seeing it is our very good friend the doctor, conclude the bargain and consent to loose the other five, which the subject is really worth?"

The person to whom this question was dictated paused a short time as if deeply weighing the subject, and then nodded his head by way of assent, as a man would do in making a great sacrifice.

"The subject is yours, doctor, although I assure you, in good faith, that I would not hazard as much again for twice the sum."

While saying this he tries to bear the air of a martyr, but still acts like one who has made a good bargain, or done a clever thing and is pleased.

"This piece of businees is concluded, and now I have an affair on my hands in which I need your assistance."

"Speak, we are ready," cries Thick, who seems to act as spokesman, "It is probably to awake another sleeper."

"Exactly the reverse."

"What is that you say? Is it not to take a body from the earth that you want us?"

"You have heard correctly: it is to put one in."

"To bury one, eh!"

"Just so."

"Explain.

"You recollect the last subject—the female."

"Perfectly."

"That—mark my words—must be returned to the grave as you found it, tonight—without the least delay."

Gaunt recoiled a step—opened his frightful mouth, fixed his eyes in a dubious manner on the young man, and gave other intimations of extreme astonishment, while Thick, looked at him with a puzzled air, and then laughed in a style peculiar to himself.

"Do you comprehend me fully?" continued Levator, firmly. I wish the body of that young girl, that your sacrilegious hands dragged rudely from its resting place, carried back and placed precisely as you found it in the first instance. Am I intelligible?"

"Yes—I—I—you—but—

(Peremptorily.) "No remonstrances. I'll not listen to them; you know my wishes and that is quite enough."

"Had you not better wait until to—"

"No, I shall not; It is impossible.—And see, here is your reward when you have faithfuly performed your task."— (holding up some bank notes.)

"Ah! my senses are more acute now. I take your meaning more readily," cried Thick, rubbing his hands with delight. I will earth that body for you in no time."

"Thick," said Levator, sternly, laying his hand upon his shoulder and gazing so steadily into his eye that he shrunk from the scrutiny and looked doggedly at Gaunt; "Thick, there must be no jugglery about this transaction, everything must be as I direct. But should you attempt to deceive me—and you will not hesitate to if you think there is the least prospect of succeeding—you shall suffer the consequences, and they will not be light."

"Pray what would you do," gasped Thick, turning pale.

"Expose your nefarious trade."

"There will be no occasion for that, doctor, we will perform our part of the contract faithfully, provided we make one."

"Do you promise to do what I require for this sum?"

(Both.) "We do."

"This very night?"

(Both.) "Aye, immediately."

"Is the burial place far from this?"

"Across the Mystic. We shall take it over in a boat. We keep it for the business."

"Very good; come with me."

"Taking a sack from the floor, and folding it into as small a space as possible, Gaunt thrust it beneath the folds of his coat, and with Thick followed Levator into the street, first taking the precaution to call an ugly looking female of advanced age, who soon made her appearance from an upper room, and whose province it appeared to be to guard the premises in the absence of the body-snatchers.

Groping his way through narrow lanes, dark courts, and unfrequented streets, his suspicious looking companions a short distance in the rear, Levator found himself once more in the apart he had so recently left and again beside the body of that young girl whom even in death he loved to gazed upon. It was to him a kind of pleasure, but a melancholy one, and called up many thoughts which he had never before given being to. The body was no longer in a state of nudity, but dressed in its appropriate garb. Who had done it?—The answer is obvious—the pale student, for he revolted at the idea, familiar as be was with such scenes, of those rude men gazing with unhallowed eye upon it.

Thou wert right, Levator, quite right! harbor such delicate and refined feelings ever, and thou wilt repent it never.

Chapter III: Cecil

CAPTER III.

Cecil.

So saying, she embraced him, and for joy Tenderly wept; much won, that he his love, Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur Divine displeasure for her sake, or death.

Milton.

Leaving the dissecting room, we re-turn directly to the gray "granite block" we have so recently left. Entering at the second door, the interior view is much the same as that of the neighboring tenements, with the exception that it is better furnished, and has more habitable apartments. Several wretched beds are seen in different parts of the house which are not the most cleanly or healthy in their appearance. One must be very tired and sleepy to rest upon such couches; and let us go farther and say that no one ever did, or ever will rest upon such as those.