THE NAMELESS COFFIN.
Three vehicles with flambleaux, and the clang and snorting of horses
came close to the church porch, and there appeared suddenly, standing
within the disc of candle-light at the church door, before one would
have thought there was time, a tall, very pale, and peculiar looking
young man, with very large, melancholy eyes, and a certain cast of evil
pride in his handsome face.
John Tracy lighted the wax candles which he had brought, and Bob Martin
stuck them in the sockets at either side of the cushion, on the ledge of
the pew, beside the aisle, where the prayer-book lay open at 'the burial
of the dead,' and the rest of the party drew about the door, while the
doctor was shaking hands very ceremoniously with that tall young man,
who had now stepped into the circle of light, with a short, black mantle
on, and his black curls uncovered, and a certain air of high breeding in
his movements. 'He reminded me painfully of him who is gone, whom we
name not,' said the doctor to pretty Lilias, when he got home; he has
his pale, delicately-formed features, with a shadow of his evil
passions too, and his mother's large, sad eyes.'
And an elderly clergyman, in surplice, band, and white wig, with a hard,
yellow, furrowed face, hovered in, like a white bird of night, from the
darkness behind, and was introduced to Dr. Walsingham, and whispered for
a while to Mr. Irons, and then to Bob Martin, who had two short forms
placed transversely in the aisle to receive what was coming, and a
shovel full of earth--all ready. So, while the angular clergyman ruffled
into the front of the pew, with Irons on one side, a little in the rear,
both books open; the plump little undertaker, diffusing a steam from his
moist garments, making a prismatic halo round the candles and lanterns,
as he moved successively by them, whispered a word or two to the young
gentleman [Mr. Mervyn, the doctor called him], and Mr. Mervyn
disappeared. Dr. Walsingham and John Tracy got into contiguous seats,
and Bob Martin went out to lend a hand. Then came the shuffling of feet,
and the sound of hard-tugging respiration, and the suppressed energetic
mutual directions of the undertaker's men, who supported the ponderous
coffin. How much heavier, it always seems to me, that sort of load than
any other of the same size!
A great oak shell: the lid was outside in the porch, Mr. Tressels was
unwilling to screw it down, having heard that the entrance to the vault
was so narrow, and apprehending it might be necessary to take the coffin
out. So it lay its length with a dull weight on the two forms. The lead
coffin inside, with its dusty black velvet, was plainly much older.
There was a plate on it with two bold capitals, and a full stop after
each, thus;--
R. D. obiit May 11th, A.D. 1746. ætat 38.
And above this plain, oval plate was a little bit of an ornament no
bigger than a sixpence. John Tracy took it for a star, Bob Martin said
he knew it to be a Freemason's order, and Mr. Tressels, who almost
overlooked it, thought it was nothing better than a fourpenny cherub.
But Mr. Irons, the clerk, knew that it was a coronet; and when he heard
the other theories thrown out, being a man of few words he let them have
it their own way, and with his thin lips closed, with their changeless
and unpleasant character of an imperfect smile, he coldly kept this
little bit of knowledge to himself.
Earth to earth (rumble), dust to dust (tumble), ashes to ashes (rattle).
And now the coffin must go out again, and down to its final abode.
The flag that closed the entrance of the vault had been removed. But
the descent of Avernus was not facile, the steps being steep and broken,
and the roof so low. Young Mervyn had gone down the steps to see it duly
placed; a murky, fiery light; came up, against which the descending
figures looked black and cyclopean.
Dr. Walsingham offered his brother-clergyman his hospitalities; but
somehow that cleric preferred returning to town for his supper and his
bed. Mervyn also excused himself. It was late, and he meant to stay that
night at the Phoenix, and to-morrow designed to make his compliments
in person to Dr. Walsingham. So the bilious clergyman from town climbed
into the vehicle in which he had come, and the undertaker and his troop
got into the hearse and the mourning coach and drove off demurely
through the town; but once a hundred yards or so beyond the turnpike, at
such a pace that they overtook the rollicking _cortège_ of the Alderman
of Skinner's Alley upon the Dublin road, all singing and hallooing, and
crowing and shouting scraps of banter at one another, in which
recreations these professional mourners forthwith joined them; and they
cracked screaming jokes, and drove wild chariot races the whole way into
town, to the terror of the divine, whose presence they forgot, and whom,
though he shrieked from the window, they never heard, until getting out,
when the coach came to a stand-still, he gave Mr. Tressels a piece of
his mind, and that in so alarming a sort, that the jolly undertaker,
expressing a funereal concern at the accident, was obliged to explain
that all the noise came from the scandalous party they had so
unfortunately overtaken, and that 'the drunken blackguards had lashed
and frightened his horses to a runaway pace, singing and hallooing in
the filthy way he heard, it being a standing joke among such roisterers
to put quiet tradesmen of his melancholy profession into a false and
ridiculous position.' He did not convince, but only half puzzled the
ecclesiastic, who muttering, 'credat Judæus,' turned his back upon Mr.
Tressels, with an angry whisk, without bidding him good-night.
Dr. Walsingham, with the aid of his guide, in the meantime, had reached
the little garden in front of the old house, and the gay tinkle of a
harpsichord and the notes of a sweet contralto suddenly ceased as he did
so; and he said--smiling in the dark, in a pleasant soliloquy, for he
did not mind John Tracy,--old John was not in the way--'She always hears
my step--always--little Lily, no matter how she's employed,' and the
hall-door opened, and a voice that was gentle, and yet somehow very
spirited and sweet, cried a loving and playful welcome to the old man.