which space I heard no account of him whatsoever. At length, however,
that inextinguishable attachment which turns the affections and memory
to the friends of our early days--to those scenes which we traversed
when the heart was light and the spirits buoyant--determined me to make
a visit to my native place, that I might witness the progress of time
and care upon those faces that were once so familiar to me; that I might
again look upon the meadows, and valleys, and groves, and mountains,
where I had so often played, and to which I still found myself bound by
a tie that a more enlightened view of life and nature only made stronger
and more enduring. I accordingly set off, and arrived late in the
evening of a December day, at a little town within a few miles of my
native home. On alighting from the coach and dining, I determined to
walk home, as it was a fine frosty night. The full moon hung in the blue
unclouded firmament in all her lustre, and the stars shone out with that
tremulous twinkling motion so peculiarly remarkable in frost. I had been
absent, I said, about fifteen years, and felt that the enjoyment of this
night would form an era in the records of my memory and my feelings. I
find myself indeed utterly incapable of expressing what I experienced;
but those who have ever been in similar circumstances will understand
what I mean. A strong spirit of practical poetry and romance was upon
me; and I thought that a commonplace approach in the open day would
have rendered my return to the scenes of my early life a very stale and
unedifying matter. I left the inn at seven o'clock, and as I had only
five miles to walk, I would just arrive about nine, allowing myself to
saunter on at the rate of two miles and half per hour. My sensations,
indeed, as I went along, were singular; and as I took a solitary road
that went across the mountains, the loneliness of the walk, the deep
gloom of the valleys, the towering height of the dark hills, and the
pale silvery-light of a sleeping lake, shining dimly in the distance
below, gave me such a distinct notion of the sublime and beautiful, as
I have seldom since experienced. I recommend every man who has been
fifteen years absent from his native fields to return by moonlight.
Well, there is a mystery yet undiscovered in our being, for no man
can know the full extent of his feelings or his capacities. Many a
slumbering thought, and sentiment, and association reposes within him,
of which he is utterly ignorant, and which, except he come in contact
with those objects whose influence over his mind can alone call them
into being, may never be awakened, or give him one moment of either
pleasure or pain. There is, therefore, a great deal in the position
which we hold in society, and simply in situation. I felt this on that
night: for the tenor of my reflections was new and original, and my
feelings had a warmth and freshness in them, which nothing but the
situation in which I then found myself could give them. The force of
association, too, was powerful; for, as I advanced nearer home, the
names of hills, and lakes, and mountains, that I had utterly forgotten,
as I thought, were distinctly revived in my memory, and a crowd of
youthful thoughts and feelings, that I imagined my intercourse with the
world and the finger of time had blotted out of my being, began to crowd
afresh on my fancy. The name of, a townland would instantly return with
its appearance; and I could now remember the history of families and
individuals that had long been effaced from my recollection.
But what is even more singular is, that the superstitious terrors of
my boyhood began to come over me as formerly, whenever a spot noted
for supernatural appearances met my eye. It was in vain that I exerted
myself to expel them, by throwing the barrier of philosophic reasoning
in their way; they still clung to me, in spite of every effort to the
contrary. But the fact is, that I was, for the moment, the slave of a
morbid and feverish sentiment, that left me completely at the mercy of
the dark and fleeting images that passed over my fancy. I now came to a
turn where the road began to slope down into the depths of a valley
that ran across it. When I looked forward into the bottom of it, all was
darkness impenetrable, for the moon-beams were thrown off by the height
of the mountains that rose on each side of it. I felt an indefinite
sensation of fear, because at that moment I recollected that it had
been, in my younger days, notorious as the scene of an apparition,
where the spirit of a murdered pedlar had never been known to permit
a solitary traveler to pass without appearing to him, and walking
cheek-by-jowl along with him to the next house on the way, at which spot
he usually vanished. The influence of my feelings, or, I should rather
say, the physical excitement of my nerves, was by no means slight, as
these old traditions recurred to me; although, at the same time, my
moral courage was perfectly unimpaired, so that, notwithstanding this
involuntary apprehension, I felt a degree of novelty and curiosity in
descending the valley: “If it appear,” said I, “I shall at least satisfy
myself as to the truth of apparitions.” My dress consisted of a long,
dark surtout, the collar of which, as the night was keen, I had turned
up about my ears, and the corners of it met round my face. In addition
to this I had a black silk handkerchief tied across my mouth to keep out
the night air, so that, as my dark fur traveling cap came down over
my face, there was very little of my countenance visible. I now had
advanced half way into the valley, and all about me was dark and still:
the moonlight was not nearer than the top of the hill which I was
descending; and I often turned round to look upon it, so silvery and
beautiful it appeared in the distance. Sometimes I stopped for a few
moments, admiring' its effect, and, contemplating the dark mountains
as they stood out against the firmament, then kindled into magnificent
grandeur by the myriads of stars that glowed in its expanse. There was
perfect silence and solitude around me; and, as I stood alone in
the dark chamber of the mountains, I felt the impressiveness of the
situation gradually supersede my terrors. A sublime sense of religious
awe descended on me; my soul kindled into a glow of solemn and elevated
devotion, which gave me a more intense perception of the presence of God
than I had ever before experienced. “How sacred--how awful,” thought I,
“is this place!--how impressive is this hour!--surely I feel myself
at the footstool of God! The voice of worship is in this deep,
soul-thrilling silence, and the tongue of praise speaks, as it were,
from the very solitude of the mountains!” I then thought of Him who
went up into the mountain-top to pray, and felt the majesty of those
admirable descriptions of the Almighty, given in the Old Testament,
blend in delightful harmony with the beauty and fitness of the Christian
dispensation, that brought light and immortality to light. “Here,” said
I, “do I feel that I am indeed immortal, and destined for scenes of a
more exalted and comprehensive existence!”
I then proceeded further into the valley, completely freed from the
influence of old and superstitious associations. A few porches below
me a small river crossed the road, over which was thrown a little
stone bridge of rude workmanship. This bridge was the spot on which the
apparition was said to appear; and as I approached it, I felt the
folly of those terrors which had only a few minutes before beset me so
strongly. I found my moral energies recruited, and the dark phantasms of
my imagination dispelled by the light of religion, which had refreshed
me with a deep sense of the Almighty presence. I accordingly walked
forward, scarcely bestowing a thought upon the history of the place,
and had got within a few yards of the bridge, when on resting my eye
accidentally upon the little elevation formed by its rude arch, I
perceived a black coffin placed at the edge of the road, exactly upon
the bridge itself!
It may be evident to the reader, that, however satisfactory the force
of philosophical reasoning might have been upon the subject of the
solitude, I was too much the creature of sensation for an hour before,
to look on such a startling object with firm nerves. For the first two
or three minutes, therefore, T exhibited as finished a specimen of the
dastardly as could be imagined. My hair absolutely raised my cap
some inches off my head; my mouth opened to an extent which I did not
conceive it could possibly reach; I thought my eyes shot out from their
sockets, and my fingers spread out and became stiff, though powerless.
The “_obstupui_” was perfectly realized in me, for, with the exception
of a single groan, which I gave on first seeing the object, I found that
if one word would save my life, or transport me to my own fireside, I
could not utter it. I was also rooted to the earth, as if by magic;
and although instant tergiversation and flight had my most hearty
concurrence, I could not move a limb, nor even raise my eyes off
the sepulchral-looking object which lay before me. I now felt the
perspiration fall from my face in torrents, and the strokes of my heart
fell audibly on my ear. I even attempted to say, “God preserve me!” but
my tongue was dumb and powerless, and could not move. My eye was still
upon the coffin, when I perceived that, from being motionless, it
instantly began to swing,--first in a lateral, then in a longitudinal
direction, although it was perfectly evident that no human hand was
nearer it than my own. At length I raised my eyes off it, for my
vision was strained to an aching intensity, which I thought must have
occasioned my eye-strings to crack. I looked instinctively about me for
assistance--but all was dismal, silent, and solitary: even the moon had
disappeared among a few clouds that I had not noticed in the sky.
As I stood in this state of indescribable horror, I saw the light
gradually fade away from the tops of the mountains, giving the scene
around me a dim and spectral ghastliness, which, to those who were never
in such a situation, is altogether inconceivable.
At length I thought I heard a noise as it Were of a rushing tempest,
sweeping from the hills down into the valley; but on looking up, I could
perceive nothing but the dusky desolation that brooded over the place.
Still the noise continued; again I saw the coffin move; I then felt
the motion communicated to myself, and found my body borne and swung
backwards and forwards, precisely according to the motion of the coffin.
I again attempted to utter a cry for assistance, but could not: the
motion in my body still continued, as did the approaching noise in the
hills. I looked up a second time in the direction in which the valley
wound off between them, but judge of what I must have suffered, when
I beheld one of the mountains moving, as it were, from its base, and
tumbling down towards the spot on which I stood! In the twinkling of an
eye the whole scene, hills and all, began to tremble, to vibrate, and to
fly round me, with a rapid, delirious motion; the stars shot back into
the depths of heaven, and disappeared; the ground on which I stood began
to pass from beneath my feet; a noise like the breaking of a thousand
gigantic billows again burst from every direction, and I found myself
instantly overwhelmed by some deadly weight, which prostrated me on the
earth, and deprived me of sense and motion.
I know not how long I continued in this state; but I remember that, on
opening my eyes the first object that presented itself to me, was the
sky glowing as before with ten thousand stars, and the moon walking in
her unclouded brightness through the heavens. The whole circumstance
then rushed back upon my mind, but with a sense of horror very much
diminished; I arose, and on looking towards the spot, perceived the
coffin in the same place. I then stood, and endeavoring to collect
myself, viewed it as calmly as possible; it was, however, as motionless
and distinct as when I first saw it. I now began to reason upon the
matter, and to consider that it was pusillanimous in me to give way to
such boyish terrors. The confidence, also, which my heart, only a short
time before this, had experienced in the presence and protection of
the Almighty, again returned, and, along with it, a degree of religious
fortitude, which invigorated my whole system. “Well,” thought I, “in the
name of God I shall ascertain what you are, let the consequence be what
it may.” I then advanced until I stood exactly over it, and raising
my foot gave it a slight kick. “Now,” said I, “nothing remains but to
ascertain whether it contains a dead body or not;” but on raising the end
of it, I perceived by its lightness, that it was empty. To investigate
the cause of its being left in this solitary spot was, however, not
within the compass of my philosophy, so I gave that up. On looking at
it more closely, I noticed a plate, marked with the name and age of
the person for whom it was intended, and on bringing my eyes near the
letters, I was able, between fingering and reading, to make out the name
of my old cudgel-fighting school-fellow, Denis Kelly.
This discovery threw a partial light upon the business; but I now
remembered to have heard of individuals who had seen black, unearthly
coffins, inscribed with the names of certain living persons; and that
these were considered as ominous of the death of those persons. I
accordingly determined to be certain that this was a real coffin; and as
Denis's house was not more than a mile before me, I decided on carrying
it that far, “If he be dead,” thought I, “it will be all light, and
if not, we will see more about it.” My mind, in fact, was diseased by
terror. I instantly raised the coffin, and as I found a rope lying on
the ground under it, I strapped it about my shoulders and proceeded: nor
could I help smiling when I reflected upon the singular transition which
the man of sentiment and sensation so strangely underwent;--from the
sublime contemplation of the silent mountain solitude and the spangled
heavens to the task of carrying a coffin! It was an adventure, however,
and I was resolved to see how it would terminate.
There was from the bridge an ascent in the road, not so gradual as that
by which I descended on the other side; and as the coffin was rather
heavy, I began to repent of having anything to do with it; for I was
by no means experienced in carrying coffins. The carriage of it was,
indeed, altogether an irksome and unpleasant concern; for owing to my
ignorance of using the rope that tied it skilfully, it was every moment
sliding down my back, dragging along the stones, or bumping against my
heels: besides, I saw no sufficient grounds I had for entering upon the
ludicrous and odd employment of carrying another man's coffin, and was
several; times upon the point of washing my hands out of it altogether.
But the novelty of the incident, and the mystery in which it was
involved, decided me in bringing it as far as Kelly's house, which was
exactly on my way home.
I had yet half a mile to go; but I thought it would be best to strap it
more firmly about my body before I could start again: I therefore set
it standing on its end, just at the turn of the road, until I should
breathe a little, for I was rather exhausted by a trudge under it of
half a mile and upwards. Whilst the coffin was in this position, I
standing exactly behind it (Kelly had been a tall man, consequently
it was somewhat higher than I was), a crowd of people, bearing lights,
advanced round the corner; and the first object which presented itself
to their vision, was the coffin in, that position, whilst I was totally
invisible behind it. As soon as they saw it, there was an involuntary
cry of consternation from the whole crowd; at this time I had the coffin
once more strapped firmly by a running knot to my shoulders, so that
I could loose it whenever I pleased. On seeing the party, and hearing
certain expressions which dropped from them, I knew at once that there
had been some unlucky blunder in the business on their part; and I would
have given a good deal to be out of the circumstances in which I then
stood. I felt that I could not possibly have accounted for my situation,
without bringing myself in for as respectable a portion of rank
cowardice as those who ran away from the coffin; for that it was
left behind in a fit of terror, I now entertained no doubt whatever,
particularly when I remembered the traditions connected with the spot in
which I found it.
“_Manim a Yea agus a wurrah!_“* exclaimed one of them, “if the black man
hasn't brought it up from the bridge! _Dher a larna heena_**, he
did; for it was above the bridge we first seen him: jist for all the
world--the Lord be about us--as Antony and me war coming out on the road
at the bridge, there he was standing--a headless man, all black, without
face or eyes upon him--and then we left the coffin and cut acrass the
fields home.”
* My soul to God and the Virgin.
** By the very book--meaning the Bible, which, in the
Irish, is not simply called the book, but the very
book, or the book itself.
“But where is he now, Eman?” said one of them, “are you sure you seen
him?”
“Seen him!” both exclaimed, “do you think we'd take to our scrapers
like two hares, only we did; arrah, bad manners to you, do you think the
coffin could walk up wid itself from the bridge to this, only he brought
it?--isn't that enough?”
“Thrue for yez,” the rest exclaimed, “but what's to be done?”
“Why to bring the coffin home, now that we're all together,” another
observed; “they say he never appears to more than two at wanst, so he
won't be apt to show himself now, when we're together.”
“Well, boys, let two of you go down to it,” said one of them, “and we'll
wait here till yez bring it up.”
“Yes,” said Eman Dhu, “do you go down, Owen, as you have the Scapular*
on you, and the jug of holy water in your hand, and let Billy M'Shane,
here repate the confeethurs (* _The Confiteor_) along wid you.”
* The scapular is one of the highest religious orders,
and is worn by both priest and layman. It is considered
by the people a safeguard against evil both spiritual
and physical.
“Isn't it the same thing, Eman,” replied Owen, “if I shake the holy
water on you, and whoever goes wid you? sure you know that if only one
dhrop of it touched you, the devil himself couldn't harm you!”
“And what needs yourself be afraid, then,” retorted Eman; “and you has
the Scapular on you to the back of that? Didn't you say, you war coming
out, that if it was the devil, you'd disparse him?”
“You had betther not be mintioning his name, you _omadhaun_,” replied
the other; “if I was your age, and hadn't a wife and childre on my
hands, it's myself that would trust in God, and go down manfully; but
the people are hen-hearted now, besides what they used to be in my
time.”
During this conversation, I had resolved, if possible, to keep up the
delusion, until I could get myself extricated with due secrecy out of
this ridiculous situation; and I was glad to find that, owing to their
cowardice, there was some likelihood of effecting my design.
“Ned,” said one of them to a little man, “go down and speak to it, as it
can't harm you.”
“Why sure,” said Ned, with a tremor in his voice, “I can speak to it
where I am, widout going within rache of it. Boys, stand close to me:
hem--In the name of--but don't you think I had betther spake to it in
the Latin I sarve mass* wid; it can't but answer that, for the sowl of
it, seeing it's a blest language?”
* The person who serves mass, as it is called, is he
who makes the responses to the priest during that
ceremony. As the mass is said in Latin the serving of
it must necessarily fall upon many who are ignorant of
that language, and whose pronunciation of it is, of
course, extremely ludicrous.
“Very well,” the rest replied; “try that Ned; give it the best and
ginteelest grammar you have, and maybe it may thrate us dacent.”
Now it so happened that, in my schoolboy days, I had joined a class of
young fellows who were learning what is called the “_Sarvin' of Mass_”
and had impressed it so accurately on a pretty retentive memory, that
I never forgot it. At length, Ned pulled, out his beads, and bedewed
himself most copiously with the holy water. He then shouted out, with
a voice which resembled that of a man in an ague fit, “Dom-i-n-us
vo-bis-cum?” “Et cum spiritu tuo,” I replied, in a husky sepulchral
tone, from behind the coffin. As soon as I uttered these words, the
whole crowd ran back instinctively with fright; and Ned got so weak,
that they were obliged to support him.
“Lord have marcy on us!” said Ned; “hoys, isn't it an awful thing to
speak to a spirit? my hair is like I dunna what, it's sticking up so
stiff upon my head.”
“Spake to it in English, Ned,” said they, till we hear what it will say.
Ax it does anything trouble it; or whether its sowl's in Purgatory.”
“Wouldn't it be betther,” observed another, “to ax it who murthered it;
maybe it wants to discover that?”
“In the--na-me of Go-o-d-ness,” said Ned, down to me, “what are you?”
“I'm the soul,” I replied in the same voice, “of the pedlar that was
murdered on the bridge below.”
“And--who--was---it, sur, wid--submission, that--murdhered--you?”
To this I made no reply.
“I say,” continued Ned, “in--the--name--of--G-o-o-d-ness--who was
it--that took the liberty of murdhering you, dacent man?”
“Ned Corrigan,” I answered, giving his own name.
“Hem! God presarve us! Ned Corrigan!” he exclaimed. “What Ned, for
there's two of them--is it myself or the other vagabone?”
“Yourself, you murderer!” I replied.
“Ho!” said Ned, getting quite stout, “is that you, neighbor? Come, now,
walk out wid yourself out of that coffin, you vagabone you, whoever you
are.”
“What do you mane, Ned, by spaking to it that-a-way?” the rest inquired.
“Hut,” said Ned, “it's some fellow or other that's playing a thrick upon
us. Sure I never knew either act nor part of the murdher, nor of the
murdherers; and you know, if it was anything of that nature, it couldn't
tell me a lie, and me a Scapularian along wid axing it in God's name,
with Father Feasthalagh's Latin.”
“Big tare-an'-ouns;” said the rest; “if we thought it was any man making
fun of us, but we'd crop the ears off his head, to tache him to be
joking!”
To tell the truth, when I heard this suggestion, I began to repent of
my frolic; but I was determined to make another effort to finish the
adventure creditably.
“Ned,” said they, “throw some of the holy water on us all, and in the
name of St. Pether and the Blessed Virgin, we'll go down and examine it
in a body.”
This they considered a good thought, and Ned was sprinkling the water
about him in all directions, whilst he repeated some jargon which was
completely unintelligible. They then began to approach the coffin at
dead-march time, and I felt that this was the only moment in which my
plan could succeed; for had I waited until they came down all would have
been discovered. As soon, therefore, as they began to move towards me,
I also began, with equal solemnity, to retrograde towards them; so that,
as the coffin was between us, it seemed to move without human means.
“Stop, for God's sake, stop,”--shouted Ned; “it's movin'! It has made
the coffin alive; don't you see it thravelling this way widout hand or
foot, barring the boords?”
There was now a halt to ascertain the fact: but I still retrograded.
This was sufficient; a cry of terror broke from the whole group, and,
without waiting for further evidence, they set off in the direction
they came from, at full speed, Ned flinging the jug of holy water at the
coffin, lest the latter should follow, or the former encumber him in his
flight. Never was there so complete a discomfiture; and so eager were
they to escape, that several of them came down on the stones; and
I could hear them shouting with desperation, and imploring the more
advanced not to leave them behind. I instantly disentangled myself from
the coffin, and left it standing exactly in the middle of the road, for
the next passenger to give it a lift as far as Denis Kelly's, if he felt
so disposed. I lost no time in making the best of my way home; and on
passing poor Denis's house I perceived, by the bustle and noise within,
that he was dead.