When a vicar in the nineteenth century intoned 'Rest in Peace' over a body, it was more in hope than a guarantee. For this was the time of the Resurrection Men, the original body-snatchers. In the later part of the eighteenth and early part of the nineteenth centuries, the practice of carrying off bodies from graveyards for dissection and anatomical research was rife in many of the large cities of England and Scotland.
Bristol was one such centre, and gruesome records, some of them tinged with a grim humour, have been handed down concerning the doings of the body-snatchers ( resurrectionists ) in the city There's an old Bristol notice dated October 25th 1819, offering 50 guineas reward for the arrest of -the resurrection men: Whereas it reads, 'on the night of Friday last, or early on Saturday morning, the churchyard of the parish of St Augustine was entered and the corpse of a female, which had been interred on the preceding morning, was taken up and stolen there from by some person unknown'
This is to give notice that a reward of fifty guineas will be paid to any person who shall give such information as may lead to the conviction of the offenders, the Vestry being determined to use every exertion to bring the parties who have been guilty of an act so abhorrent to the feelings of human nature to justice
This case gave rise to quite a public ferment at the time in Bristol, and columns of letters appeared in the local newspapers about it. Most of the letters, of course, condemned such 'depravity' but others pointed out the difficulties of the medical profession and the urgency of legislation in the matter of anatomy and dissection. One correspondent signed his letter 'My Grandmother' and suggested in it -that the body of every surgeon should from the moment of entering the profession become public property; that after his decease it should be handed over for dissection, and as this would provide only male bodies, his wife and children should come under the same law ?
On the night of the grave-robbing, a man was seen with a sack on his back entering the door of a dissecting-room in Lower College Street, situated over the shop of a greengrocer. The woman who kept the shop told her neighbours and the news quickly spread. A crowd gathered, among them by strange coincidence, being the man who had buried his wife at St Augustine's that morning.
He hurried back to the churchyard and found the grave empty ? Returning to the shop he got a ladder, entered the dissecting-room window, and discovered the body of his wife. Those on the premises narrowly escaped with their lives from the fury of the crowd. In February 1828, two grave robbers were caught in Brislington churchyard. They were arrested and turned out to be a Dr Wallis, founder of a noted anatomical school in Bristol, and Dr Riley, also a noted anatonmist. They were hauled before a local magistrate, fined six pounds and immediately paid the money.
The parties then bowed very respectfully to the worthy magistrate and, wishing his worship a good day, left the house: In the History of the Bristol Royal Infirmary it is recorded that this same magistrate, less than three weeks afterwards, proposed Dr Wallis for the post of physician to the BRI. Nor did the newspaper of the time always represent body-snatching as the abhorrent practice it would appear in present day eyes.
One newspaper writer describing an affray at a Bedminster churchyard in 1822, when six persons were caught by constables trying to remove a body stated that 'there were pistols snapped and rapiers drawn, bloody noses and broken heads-One of the resurrectionists was hit full in the face with the butt-end of a pistol -to dissect his nose ?'
In the year 1750 a notorious vagabond, who went by the name of Long Jack, committed suicide and was buried at the cross-roads leading to Kingswood. Bristol surgeon, Abraham Ludlow, his son and an apothecary John Page, decided to remove the body for dissection. They set out by night with a horse and a servant, dug up the body tied it on the horse's back and started on their return journey.
When they got to the old Castle Gate, which stood at the entrance to Castle Street - it was not removed till 1766 - the main entrance had been closed for the night. Fearing to call up the porter, lest he should inquire what they carried, they attempted to use the side passage for pedestrians - one like the passages still in use at St John's Gate at the bottom of Broad Street.
There was only just room for the horse to get through, and the body of Long Jack fell to the ground. The porter, disturbed by the noise, hurried down with his lantern and cried out in alarm when he saw the legs of Long Jack protruding from a sack. He was persuaded by Ludlow, however, to keep his own counsel, and the party duly arrived back at the doctor's house by way of High Street where they placed the body on the back parlour table and went to bed..
Unfortunately, they forgot to lock the door, and when the servant came down in the morning and found the body she became hysterical and ran screaming into the street. The rumour soon spread that a resurrected body was in the doctor's house. The alarmed Ludlow's took the body back that same night and reburied it at the crossroads.
They did so just in time. The next day a number of Long Jack's associates, having heard thc rumours about a body being resurrected, guessed it might be his and vowed dire vengeance if it were. They hurried to the grave, found the body and concluded the rumour was false.
