The Rat; Its History & Destructive Character. James Rodwell
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Thus it appears we are never secure, either dead or alive, from the liability of becoming food for rats.
Notwithstanding the weak and contemptible appearance of the rat, it possesses peculiarities and properties which render it a far more formidable enemy to mankind than even those animals gifted with the greatest strength and most destructive dispositions, such as lions, tigers, wolves, wild cats, hogs, and hyænas. The midnight burglaries undetected by the police sink into in significance compared with the ravages of the rats of the London sewers, which steal and destroy more in one week than the value of all the robberies of plate that blaze away in the newspapers from one year’s end to another. They are one of the greatest animal nuisances that have infested our homes and fields since the days when an English king levied tribute of wolves’ heads upon our brethren of Wales.
Independently of their destroying furniture, &c., they have been known to gnaw the extremities of children while asleep. A child was nearly eaten to death by rats in the City. The parents, it appears, lived on a first floor, and the mother had gone out to market, leaving the child alone, sleeping in the cradle. During her absence the persons on the ground-floor heard the child crying in a most piteous manner, and after some time they went up to see what was the matter. Upon entering the room, they beheld several rats gnawing one of the child’s hands, two fingers of which they had actually eaten off. The child was immediately taken to the hospital, and had the lacerated parts cut away, and fortunately no fatal consequences ensued. The rats are supposed to have effected their entrance from the drain underneath the house communicating with the main sewer, and, but for the timely interference of the occupiers of the ground-floor, there is little doubt the child would have been entirely eaten up. The circumstance at the time occasioned considerable sensation in the neighbourhood; but, like all other rat-exploits, was soon looked upon as a mere matter of course, and then sank into comparative oblivion.
One evening, as a gentleman well known to the theatrical world was seated with his family at the supper-table, they were all at once dreadfully alarmed by the heart-rending and pitiable screeches of his infant daughter, who had been sleeping in the adjoining room. They instantly ran to ascertain the cause of her agonies. At first they saw no visible cause, but on slightly turning down the bedclothes they discovered, to their horror, that blood was streaming from one of her feet, and upon closer examination they found the joint of her great toe most dreadfully lacerated. Of course, medical assistance was immediately sent for, and in the interim their imaginations were strained to their utmost as to how or what could have been the cause of it. While thus pondering, they suddenly saw something moving backwards and forwards beneath the clothes, at the bottom of the bed. The first impulse of the father was, of course, to grasp at it outside the clothes, and squeeze it with all his might; this he did, and held it till it was dead. Then, upon throwing off the bedclothes, they beheld, to their loathing and disgust, an enormous sewer rat. When the medical gentleman arrived, and saw the injured foot, and also ascertained the cause, he resorted to such means as would purify the wound from all poisonous effects, by well cleansing, &c., which happily terminated in nothing more serious than her being crippled in that foot for some time, and wearing the scar as a remembrance. But its mother informed me, that there was no doubt, from the desperate wound inflicted, that had they not instantly run to the child’s rescue, the rat would soon have had her toe off, if nothing worse. This occurrence took place some time since. But now we come to others which have transpired within more recent periods, and of a more dreadful description.
The wife of a labourer, residing near Landor, went out of her cottage, leaving her infant boy, about three years old, asleep on the bed. On her return she heard the child crying vehemently, and upon rushing into the room she saw a large rat busily engaged in biting the little fellow’s face; but on her appearance the animal ran up the chimney. It was found that portions of the child’s flesh had been eaten away, both from the face and one of its thumbs.
The death of an infant six months old took place in Marsh Street, Bristol, from the bite of a rat. Marsh Street is an exceedingly old and filthy street, and lies not only adjacent to the floating harbour, but in the vicinity of numerous warehouses for the storage of potatoes, grain, tallow, oil, and the like; and, as may be expected, many of the houses are infested by rats. The mother, on hearing her infant scream, hastened to ascertain the cause, when she found that her poor child had been attacked in a most ferocious manner. The rat had severely bitten it under the right eye, and marks of the creature’s claws were still visible on its face and neck. There was also a great quantity of blood about the person and clothes of the victim. The mother paid the poor little sufferer all the attention in her power, and a medical man was consulted, but it ultimately died from the injuries it had sustained.
A few years ago, the town of Dowlais was the scene of a most painful and revolting occurrence. Some of the poorer class of houses are infested, to a considerable degree, by rats. A poor working woman having occasion to go from home, put her infant child to bed. Upon her return, and opening the door of the apartment in which her infant lay, she saw three large rats jump from the bed, and, on looking in the direction of her child, she was terrified at perceiving that the bedclothes were stained with blood. She instantly removed the coverlet, when a shocking spectacle presented itself. The rats had mutilated the poor infant and destroyed its life, having eaten away the wall of the belly, and actually destroyed portions of the intestines.
I shall conclude this calendar of infant sufferings and mutilations with one case more, which took place in Dublin, and which is, if possible, more appalling than all the rest. From the testimony of the unhappy mother of the child, which was given on the coroner’s inquest, it appeared that she had committed it to the care of a woman; and it was whilst under this woman’s care that the infant received the injuries which caused its death. Her evidence was to the effect, that on the night in question she fed the child and placed her in the cradle to sleep. She was awoke in the night by the child screaming. Witness got up, and quieted the child, and she went to sleep again. In the morning, at seven o’clock, witness got up, and, on approaching the cradle, found the child and the clothes about her all over blood. On her lifting the clothes off the cradle, two huge rats jumped out, and ran under the bed. She immediately ran with it to the hospital. According to the evidence of the surgeon, the child, when brought into the hospital, was fast sinking from the loss of blood, and half the inside of the left hand was eaten away, and the right arm was frightfully gnawed, evidently by rats; the face was also torn. Despite of every care, the child sank, and expired that morning from the injuries she had received.
It appears that children are not the only victims, when rats are seized with a craving for human flesh. The following circumstance has been mentioned by various authors. There was a German bishop, by the name of Hatto, whose residence was infested with so many of these animals, that he built a tower, close to the Rhine, for his defence against them. Here he resided; but at last they gained an entrance, and at length killed and ate him.
A few years ago a friend of mine was in Dublin. There was a tradition current, to the effect that some time previously a British officer had come by his death in a most melancholy manner through rats. The account ran as follows. A bosom friend and brother officer of his had died of a fever, and he among others attended the funeral. When the ceremonies were over, and all the mourners had retired, he sought an opportunity of leaving the company, and went alone into the vault to pay a last tribute to his departed friend. Now whether, according to the custom of the country, he had partaken a little too freely of whisky, and therefore fallen asleep, or whether he was so completely absorbed in devotional supplications for the welfare of the soul departed, nothing has transpired to determine. But suffice it to say, that in the evening the gravedigger came, and never supposing for a moment that any one was there, closed up the entrance of the vault, and so fastened him in. On the following morning, upon the soldiers gathering, and the muster-roll being called, he was found absent, and being one of the most regular in his attendance, it caused an inquiry as to who had last seen him; but no one had set eyes on him since the evening before. This caused some uneasiness among his friends, since they knew of his devoted attachment to the deceased officer. They called at his lodgings, and ascertained that he had not been home all night. That caused a hue and cry, when the thought suggested itself to some of his friends to have the vault searched. The gravedigger was soon sought for and found. On opening the vault, there lay the missing officer a corpse, and so miserably gnawed and mangled by