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The death of a voluptuary

The long, detailed death scene that Reynolds devotes to the character that he has earlier presented as the epitome of moral corruption of Britain’s wealthy nobility seems to have gotten out of the novelist’s control, for unlike any other villain in the book, the Marquis of Holmesford dies what many Victorians would have regarded as a “good death” — a peaceful, painless one surrounded by people he adores without any fear of what he might experience after all life leaves his toothless body. Virtually all the villains in The Mysteries of London sooner or later come to bad ends, though some — the Resurrection Man, for example — later turns out to be very much later. But the Marquis is, well, rewarded. This is a man who not only has a harem of willing beauties but also has had constructed a purpose-built, soundproofed rape room for those who resist him. Reynolds even tries to make him resemble one of the particularly decadent rulers of ancient room or the fantasized Middle east: One of his excesses includes bathing daily in milk supposedly to enhance his virility (and the milk is then sold for consumption by ordinary people). If The Mysteries of London were a novel written by, say, Thackeray, the narrator would emphasize the women’s abandonment of their licentious employer and depict them scrambling to steal his possessions at his death, but despite the narrator's repeatedly emphasizing how unattractive the kept women find the shrunken, toothless man, they rally to his side and comfort him, and he, as one of his final acts, generously divides £10,000 among them. “The hope which he had so often expressed in his life-time, was fulfilled almost to the very letter; — for the old voluptuary had ‘died with his head pillowed on the naked—heaving bosom of beauty, and with a glass of sparkling champagne in his hand!’” What may have begun as a grotesque example of aristocratic excess and immorality ends up as a bizarre sexual fantasy.

Passage illustrated

The Marquis bolted the door with great caution, and then advanced towards his ladies with a smile upon his haggard, pale, and death-like countenance.

Indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that the young women could restrain a murmur of surprise—almost of disgust—when, as he drew nearer towards them, they beheld the fearful ravages which a few hours' illness had made upon his face. The extent of those inroads was moreover enhanced by the absence of his false teeth, which he had not time to fix in his mouth ere he escaped from the thraldom of his physicians: so that the thinness of his cheeks was rendered almost skeleton-like by the sinking in of his mouth.

The superb dressing-gown seemed a mockery of the shrivelled and wasted form which it loosely wrapped; and as the old nobleman staggered towards his mistresses, whose first ebullition of joy at his appearance was so suddenly shocked by the ghastly hideousness of his aspect, they had not strength nor presence of mind to hasten to meet him.

Kathleen was the first to conquer her aversion and dismay; and she caught the Marquis in her arms just at the instant when, overcome by the exertions of the last few minutes, he was about to sink beneath the weight of sheer exhaustion. Then the other women crowded forward to lend their aid; and the old nobleman was placed upon one of the luxurious ottomans. . . .

"I am come to die amongst you!"

"To die—here—amongst us!" ejaculated all the women (save Kathleen), shrinking back in terror and dismay. . . .

"Consider that I am going on a long journey, my dear girls," he exclaimed, with a smile; "and do not let our parting be sorrowful. Kathleen, my sweet one, come nearer: there—place yourself so that I may recline my head on your bosom—and now throw that warm, plump, naked arm over my shoulder. Oh! this is paradise!" And for a few minutes the hoary voluptuary, whose licentious passions were dominant even in death, closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy with intense gratification all the luxury of his position.

It was a painful and disgusting sight to behold the shrivelled, haggard, and attenuated countenance of the dying sensualist, pressing upon that full and alabaster globe so warm with health, life, and glowing passions;—painful and disgusting, too, to see that thin, emaciated, and worn-out frame reclining in the arms of a lovely girl in the vigour and strength of youth:—hideous—hideous to view that contiguity of a sapless, withered trunk and a robust and verdant tree!

The hope which he had so often expressed in his life-time, was fulfilled almost to the very letter;—for the old voluptuary had "died with his head pillowed on the naked—heaving bosom of beauty, and with a glass of sparkling champagne in his hand!" — Volume 2, Chapter 252, “Death of the Marquis of Holmesford”

Bibliography

Reynolds, George W. M. The Mysteries of London. vol 2. London: George Vickers, 1846. Project Gutenberg EBook #51294. Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chuck Greif, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Web. 3 October 2016.

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Last modified 4 October 2016