Ad Uaterloo opportune pugnatum est. Post pugnam enim nocte iam ineunte
praedatores mortuorum moliri potuerunt invisi. Per tenebras ad semper
novum cadaver volitabant formae opacae, arma militum colligentes et
quodcumque pretiosum defodissent inter vestitum laceratum cruentatumque.
Tum demum ultimum facinus profanum commissum est nam arte etiam medico
dentario digna dentes ullos primores inventos callide evellerunt ac in
sinum posuerunt. Nil novi erat dentes de mortuis rapere et ad vivos
venum dare qui suos amiserant. Iam autem immanitas nova fuit quia tam
multi dentes venum dati sunt ut denturae dentibus eraptis factae novum
nomen nacti sunt; dentes videlicet Uaterlooenses. Quae nomenclatura non
dedecori erat sed potius magnae famae; melius habere dentes ex iuniore
captos valatudine saluteque fruente maiore etsi ballista vel telo occiso
quam praecisores e faucibus cadaveris morbidi in tumulo putrescentis vel
e homine tam diu cruci affixo.
(
http://www.historyhome.co.uk/c-eight/france/teeth.htm)
Waterloo was a well-timed battle. By the end of the fighting, night was
closing in and the battlefield scavengers could go about their work
unseen. In the gloom, shadowy figures flitted from corpse to corpse,
gathering up the soldiers' weapons and winkling out any valuables tucked
inside their torn and bloodied uniforms. Then came the final act of
desecration: with expertise many a dental surgeon might envy, they
deftly pulled and pocketed any intact front teeth. Taking teeth from the
dead to replace those lost by the living was nothing new. But this time
the scale of it was different. The flood of teeth onto the market was so
huge that dentures made from second-hand teeth acquired a new name:
Waterloo teeth. Far from putting clients off, this was a positive
selling point. Better to have teeth from a relatively fit and healthy
young man killed by cannonball or sabre than incisors plucked from the
jaws of a disease-riddled corpse decaying in the grave or from a hanged
man left dangling too long on the gibbet.