Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (192 page)

"Circumstances of a very peculiar nature, and which I cannot
at present explain to you, compel me to quit London thus abruptly. I hope you
will not imagine that I leave your agreeable society without many regrets. We
shall probably meet again, when I may perhaps confide to you the motives of
this sudden departure; and you will then understand that I
 
could not have remained in London another minute with  safety
to myself. I scarcely know what I write - I am so agitated and uneasy. Pray
excuse this scrawl.
                           
"RICHARD MARKHAM."

The second letter was to Mr. Monroe, and was couched in the
following terms:-

    "You will be surprised, my dear sir, to
find that I am Immediately about to avail myself of your kind recommendation
and permission to visit the continent. I conceive it to be my duty - in
consequence of rumours or reports which may shortly reach your ears concerning
me - to inform you that have this moment only awoke to the fearful perils of
the career in which I have for some weeks past been blindly hurrying along,
till at length yesterday: but I dare not write any more. I am penitent - deeply
penitent; let this statement induce you to defend and protect my reputation,
        "Ever your sincerely obliged,
            "R.
MARKHAM."

    Having hastily folded, addressed; and sealed
these Ietters, Markham hurried up to his bed-room to select certain articles of
clothing and other necessaries which he should require upon his journey.
    He was interrupted in the middle of this occupation, by the
entrance of Whittingham, who came to announce that two persons of somewhat
strange and suspicious appearance desired an immediate interview with him.
    Scarcely was this message delivered, when the two men, who
had followed Whittingham up-stairs, walked very unceremoniously into the
bed-room.
    "This is Richard Markham, 'spose?" said one
advancing towards the young man.
    "Yes - my name is Markham: but what means this insolent
and unpardonable intrusion ?"
    "Intrusion indeed!" repeated the foremost of the
ill-looking strangers. "However, not to keep you waiting, my young friend,
I must inform you that me and this man here are officers; and we've a warrant
to take you."
    "A warrant!" ejaculated both Richard said
Whittingham at the same moment. 
    "Come, come, now - I des say you haven't been without
your misgivings since yesterday;- but if young gen'lemen will play such pranks,
why, they most expect some time or another to be wanted - that's all!"
    "But what have I done?" demanded Richard.
"There must be some mistake. I cannot be the person whom you
require."
    "Did you not call at a certain bankers' in the City
yesterday?" demanded the officer.
    "Certainly - I had some money to receive, which Mr.
Monroe my guardian had paid into their hands for my use."
    "And you changed a five hundred pound note. The clerk
did it for your accommodation."
    "I do not deny it: I required change. But how is all
this connected with your visit?"
    "That five hundred pound note was a forgery!"
    "A forgery! Impossible!" cried Richard.
    "A forgery!" said Whittingham: "this is really
impudence of too consummating a nature!"
    "Come, there's no mistake, and all this gammon won't
do. Me and my partner came in a hackney-coach, which stands-at the corner of
the lane; so if you're ready, we'll be off to Bow Street at once."
    "I am prepared to accompany you," said Richard,
"because I am well aware that I shall not be detained many minutes at the
magistrate's office."
    "That's no business of mine," returned the
principal officer: then, addressing his companion, he said "Jem, you'll
stay here and take a survey of the premises; while I get off with the prisoner.
You then follow as soon as you've satisfied yourself whether there's any
evidence upon the premises."
    It was with great difficulty that Richard overruled the
desire of Whittingham to accompany him, but at length the faithful old man was
induced to comprehend the necessity of staying behind, as an officer was about
to exercise a strict search throughout the house, and Markham did not choose to
leave his property to the mercy of a stranger.
    This point having been settled, Richard took his departure
with the officer in whose custody he found himself. They entered the
hackney-coach, which was waiting at a little distance, and immediately
proceeded by the shortest cuts towards the chief office in Bow street.
    Upon their arrival at that ominous establishment, Richard's
pocket-book and purse were taken away from him; and he himself was thrust into
a cell until the charge at that moment before the magistrate was disposed of.
    Here must we leave him for the present; as during the night
which followed his arrest, scenes of a terrible nature passed elsewhere.

A DEN OF HORRORS

HOWEVER filthy, unhealthy, and repulsive the entire neighbourhood
of West Street (Smithfield), Field Lane, and Saffron Hill, may appear at the
present day, it was far worse some years ago. There were then but few
cesspools; and scarcely any of those which did exist possessed any drains. The
knackers' yards of Cow Cross, and the establishments in Castle Street where
horses' flesh is boiled down to supply food for the dogs and cats of the
metropolis, send forth now, as they did then, a foetid and sickening odour
which could not possibly be borne by a delicate stomach. At the windows of
those establishments the bones of the animals are hung to bleach, and offend
the eye as much as the horrible stench of the flesh acts repugnantly to the
nerves. Upwards of sixty horses a day are frequently slaughtered in each yard;
and many of them are in the last stage of disease when sent to their "long
home." Should there not be a rapid demand for the meat on the part of the
itinerant purveyors of that article for canine and feline favourites, it
speedily becomes putrid; and a smell, which would alone appear sufficient to
create a pestilence, pervades the neighbourhood.
    As if nothing should be wanting to render that district as
filthy and unhealthy as possible, water is scarce. There is in this absence of
a plentiful supply of that wholesome article, an actual apology for dirt. Some
of the houses have small back yards, in which the inhabitants keep pigs. A
short time ago, an infant belonging to a poor widow, who occupied a back room
on the ground-floor of one of these hovels, died, and was laid upon the sacking
of the bed while the mother went out to make arrangements for its interment.
During her absence a pig entered the room from the yard, and feasted upon the
dead child's face!
    In that densely populated neighbourhood that we are
describing hundreds of families each live and sleep in one room. When a member
of one of these families happens to die, the corpse is kept in the close room
where the rest still continue to live and sleep. Poverty frequently compels the
unhappy relatives to keep the body for days - aye, and weeks. Rapid
decomposition takes place;- animal life generates quickly; and in
four-and-twenty hours myriads of loathsome animalculae are seen crawling about.
The very undertakers' men fall sick at these disgusting - these revolting
spectacles.
    The wealthy classes of society are far too ready to reproach
the miserable poor for things which are really misfortunes and not faults. The
habit of whole families sleeping together in one room destroys all sense of
shame in the daughters: and what guardian then remains for their virtue? But,
alas! a horrible - an odious crime often results from that poverty which thus
huddles brothers and sisters, aunts and nephews, all together in one narrow
room - the crime of incest!
    When a disease - such as the small-pox or scarlatina -
breaks out in one of those crowded houses, and in a densely populated
neighbourhood; the consequences are frightful: the mortality is as rapid as
that which follows the footsteps of the plague!
    These are the fearful mysteries of that hideous district
which exists in the very heart of this great metropolis. From St. John-street
to Saffron Hill - from West-street to Clerkenwell Green, is a maze of narrow
lanes, choked up with dirt, pestiferous with nauseous odours, and swarming with
a population that is born, lives, and dies, amidst squalor, penury,
wretchedness, and crime.
    Leading out of Holborn, between Field Lane and Ely Place, is
Upper Union Court - a narrow lane forming a thoroughfare for only foot
passengers. The houses in this court are dingy and gloomy: the sunbeams never
linger long there; and should an Italian-boy pass through the place, he does
not atop to waste his music upon the inhabitants. The dwellings are chiefly let
out in lodgings; and through the open windows upon the ground-floor may
occasionly be seen the half-starved families of mechanics crowding round the
scantily-supplied table. A few of the lower casements are filled with
children's book, pictures of actors and highwaymen glaringly coloured, and lucifer-matches,
twine, sweet-stuff, cotton, &c. At one door there stands an oyster-stall,
when the comestible itself is in season: over another hangs a small board with
a mangle painted upon it. Most of the windows on the ground-floors announce
rooms to let, or lodgings for single men; and perhaps notice may be seen better
written than the rest, that artificial-flower makers are required at that
address.
    It was about nine o'clock in the evening when two little
children - a boy of seven and a girl of five - walked slowly up this court,
hand in hand, and crying bitterly. They were both clothed in rags, and had
neither shoes nor stockings upon their feet. Every now and then they stopped,
and the boy turned towards his little sister, and endeavoured to console her
with kind words and kisses.
    "Don't cry so, dear," he said: "I'll tell
mother that it was all my fault that we couldn't bring home any more money; and
so she'll beat me worst. Don't cry - there's a good girl - pray don't!"
    And the poor little fellow endeavoured to calm his own grief
in order to appease the fears of his sister. 
    Those children had now reached the door of the house in
which their mother occupied an attic; but they paused upon the step, evincing a
mortal repugnance to proceed any farther. At length the little
 
boy contrived by promises and
caresses to hush the violence of his sister's grief; and they entered the
house, the door of which stood open for the accommodation of the lodgers.
    Hand in hand these poor children ascended the dark and steep
staircase, the boy whispering consolation in the girl's ears. At length they
reached the door of the attic: and there they stood for a few moments.
    "Now, Fanny dear, don't cry, there's a good girl; pray
don't now - and I'll buy you some nice pears to-morrow with the first halfpenny
I get, even if I shouldn't get another, and if mother beats me till I'm dead
when we come home."
    The boy kissed his sister once more, and then opened the
attic-door.
    A man in a shabby black coat, and with an immense profusion
of hair about his hang-dog countenance, was sitting on one side of a good fire,
smoking a pipe. A thin, emaciated, but vixenish looking woman was arranging
some food upon the table for supper. The entire furniture of the room consisted
of that table, three broken chairs, and a filthy mattress in one corner.
    As soon as the boy opened the door, he seemed for a moment
quite surprised to behold that man at the fireside: then, in another instant,
he clapped his little hands joyously together, and exclaimed, "Oh! how
glad I am: here's father come home again!"
    "Father's come home again!" echoed the girl; and
the two children rushed up to their parent with the most pure - the most
unfeigned delight.
    "Curse your stupidity, you fools," cried the man,
brutally repulsing his children; "you've nearly broke my pipe."
    The boy fall back, abashed and dismayed: the little girl
burst into tears.
    "Come, none of this humbug," resumed the man;
"let's know what luck you've had to-day, since your mother says that she's
been obliged to send you out on the tramp since I've been laid up for this last
six months in the jug."
    "Yes, and speak out pretty plain, too, Master
Harry," said the mother in a shrill menacing tone; "and none of your
excuses, or you'll know what you have got to expect."
    "Please, mother," said the boy, slowly taking some
halfpence from his pocket, "poor little Fanny got all this. I was so cold
and hungry I couldn't ask a soul; so if it ain't enough, mother, you must beat
me - and not poor little Fanny."
    As the boy uttered these words in a tremulous tone, and with
tears trickling down his face, he got before his sister, in order to shield
her, as it were from his mother's wrath.
    "Give it here, you fool!" cried the woman, darting
forward, and seizing hold of the boy's hand containing the halfpence: then,
having hastily glanced over the amount, she exclaimed, "You vile young
dog! I'll teach you to come home here with your excuses! I'll cut your liver
out of ye, I will!"
    "How much has he brought?" demanded the man.
    "How much! Why not more than enough to pay for the
beer," answered the woman indignantly. "Eightpence-halfpenny - and
that's every farthing! But won't I take it out in his hide, that's all?"
    The woman caught hold of the boy, and dealt him a tremendous
blow upon the back with her thin bony fist. He fell upon his knees, and begged
for mercy His unnatural parent levelled a volley of abuse at him, mingled with
oaths and filthy expressions. and then beat him - dashed him upon the floor -
kicked him - all but stamped upon his poor body as he writhed at her feet.
    His screams were appalling.
    Then came the turn of the girl. The difference in the years
of the children did not cause any with regard to their chastisement; but while
the unnatural mother dealt her heavy blows upon the head, neck, breast, and
back of the poor little creature, the boy clasped his hands together,
exclaiming, "O mother! it was all my fault - pray don't beat little Fanny
- pray don't!" Then forgetting his own pain, he threw himself before his
sister to protect her - a noble act of self-devotion in so young a boy, and for
which he only received additional punishment.
    At length the mother sate down exhausted; and the poor lad
drew his little sister into a corner, and endeavoured to soothe her.
    The husband of that vile woman had remained on moved in his
seat, quietly smoking his pipe, while this horrible scene took place; and if he
did not actually enjoy it, he was very far from disapproving of it.
    "There," said the woman, gasping for breath
"that'll teach them to mind how they came home another time with less than
eighteenpence in their pockets. One would actually think it was the people's
fault, and not the children's: but it ain't - for people grows more charitable
every day. The more humbug, the more charity."
    "Right enough there," growled the man. "A
reg'lar knowing beggar can make his five bob a day. He can walk through a
matter of sixty streets; and in each street he can get a penny. He's sure a'
that. Well, there's his five bob."
    "To be sure," cried the woman: "and therefore
such nice-looking little children as our'n couldn't help getting eighteen-pence
if they was to try, the lazy vagabonds! What would ha' become of me all the
time that you was in the Jug this last bout, if they hadn't have worked better
than they do now? As it is, every thing's up the spout - all made away with
—"
    "Well, we'll devilish soon have 'em all down
again," interrupted the man. "Dick will be here presently; and he and
I shall soon settle some job or another. But hadn't you better give them kids a
their supper, and make 'em leave off snivellin' afore Dick comes?"
    "So I will, Bill," answered the woman; and
throwing the children each a piece of bread, she added, in a cross tone,
"And now tumble into bed, and make haste about it; and if you don't hold
that blubbering row I'll take the poker to you this time."
    The little boy gave the larger piece of bread to his sister;
and, having divested her of her rags, he made her as comfortable as he could on
the filthy mattress, covering her over not only with
 
her
 
clothes but also with
 
his own.
 
He kissed her affectionately, but without making any noise with
his lips, for fear that
 
that
 
should irritate his mother; and then lay down beside her.
    Clasped in each other's arms, those two children of poverty
- the victims of horrible and daily cruelties - repulsed by a father whose neck
they had a longed to encircle with their little arms, and whose hand they had
vainly sought to cover with kisses; trembling even at the looks of a mother
whom they loved in spite of all her harshness towards them, and a from whose
lips one word - one single word of kindness would have gladdened their poor
hearts; under such circumstances, we say, did these persecuted but affectionate
infants, still smarting with the pain of cruel blows, and with tears upon their
cheeks, thus did they sink into slumber in each other's arms!
    Merciful God! it makes the blood boil to think that this is
no over-drawn picture - that there is no exaggeration in these details; but
that there really exist monsters in a human form - wearing often, too, the
female shape - who make the infancy and early youth of their offspring one
continued hell - one perpetual scene of blows, curses, and cruelties! Oh! for
how many of our fellow-creatures have we to blush:- how many demons are there
who have assumed our mortal appearance, who dwell amongst us, and who set us
examples the most hideous - the most appalling!
    As soon as the children were in bed, the woman went out, and
returned in a few minutes with two pots of strong beer-purchased with the alms
that day bestowed by the charitable upon her suffering offspring.
    She and her husband then partook of some cold meat, of which
there was a plentiful provision - enough to have allowed the boy and the girl
each a good slice of bread.
    And the bread which this man and this woman ate was new and
good; but the morsels thrown to the children were stale and mouldy.
    "I tell you what," said the woman, whispering in a
mysterious tone to her husband, "I have thought of an excellent plan to
make Fanny useful."
    "Well, Polly, and what's that?"
 
demanded the man.
    "Why," resumed his wife, her countenance wearing
an expression of demoniac cruelty and cunning "I've been thinking that
Harry will soon be of use to you in your line. He'll be so handy to shove
through a window, or to sneak down a area and hide himself all day in a cellar
to open the door at night, - or a thousand things."
    "In course he will," said Bill, with an approving
nod.
    "Well, but then there's Fanny. What good can she do for
us for years and years to come.  She won't beg - I know she won't. It's
all that boy's lies when he says she does: he is very fond of her and only
tells us that to screen her. Now I've a very great mind to do someot that will
make her beg - aye, and be glad to beg - and beg too in spite of herself."
    "What the hell do you mean?"
    "Why, doing