The Macabre Megapack. Lafcadio Hearn

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СКАЧАТЬ to groan again; but with no better success. Soon the coroner came in, took a pinch of snuff, and felt of my wrist. ‘Quite dead!’ said he, cooly. ‘Death caused by a rifle-ball through the heart.’ He was thinking about the price of stocks all the while, for I could see into his soul. ‘Ah!’ he continued, ‘sad event; very sad; better notify his friends; it’s unpleasant; the sooner, the better. I’ll make out my report today.’ And with this, the little coroner waddled out of the house.

      Nearly three days I had lain thus, and now I was to be buried. I was arrayed throughout in very white linen. Decidedly unbecoming, thought I. Oh! I wish somebody would bore a hole in me, and let me out! I was getting tired: for the last thirty-six hours had been thirty-six years. Nobody did bore a hole in me, however, and I remained in.

      They took me up gently and laid me in the coffin. I struggled, and fought, and remonstrated; but they didn’t seem aware of any motion that I made, but went gravely on with what they were about; and into the coffin I went. The lid was nailed down, all but the head-piece: so I knew that my countenance was to be exposed once more to the gaze of admiring friends. ‘Snug quarters these!’ thought I; ‘rather close but soft. I wish it hadn’t this confounding smell of the grave!’

      I went to church in state; listened to a very affecting sermon on the uncertainty of life; heard a dirge performed by the choir; and very well it was performed too. But the young lady that sang the solo! How I longed to bite her! I knew her voice. She sung altogether too well—too artist-like. I hated her for it; and thought how I should like to sing a solo over her coffin.

      The exercises being over, all gathered round to look again on the face of the dead. The lid was thrown back, and the light of day streamed in upon me. It was the last time it would ever visit me. My bed grew cold as I thought of it! Many familiar, many strange faces peered down into mine: some curious, some sad, but the most merely grave.

      ‘I say,’ cried I to them, though they didn’t seem to hear me; ‘I say, fine sport this; very fine; quite an amusing spectacle, no doubt! But see here, my good friends,’ said I, raising my voice, ‘I protest against this whole proceeding. If I was dead, or anything of the kind, I shouldn’t object in the least; but I am no more dead than you are! My position here is really uncomfortable. Just consider how you would like to be thrust into a box, and dropped down into a hole in the ground, out of sight; and all done so cooly and deliberately, for the sake of aggravation! I don’t see what right you have to treat a fellow in this way! I wish somebody would let me out! Holla! you wretch!’ said I to the man who came with his instruments to fasten me in; ‘do you suppose I am a dog, to be buried alive? Give me a little fresh air; do for mercy’s sake!’

      But the carpenter didn’t hear me. He took hold of the cloth and spread it over my face, preparatory to nailing down the lid. ‘Old fellow!’ I cried energetically, for the blackness of despair and horror was coming over my soul; ‘none of that! I tell you now, I won’t be buried!’ But he seemed to think that I would be buried, and very composedly proceeded to shut me in. One little gleam of sunshine, and that vanishing like early mist, was all that remained to me forever. I made a terrible struggle; something gave way with a cracking noise, resembling the snapping of a lute-string; and I was free! I dashed head-foremost through the crevice between the side of the coffin and the descending lid, and jumped nimbly on the top of my late habitation.

      ‘Ah, ha!’ said I to the undertaker, as I shook my fist in his face; ‘ah, ha! you thought to catch me napping, did you? I was a little too quick for you!’ But he went on with solemn countenance to screw down the cover, and smooth the pall over the whole: totally unconscious that anything unusual had taken place. I looked up to the gallery, and there stood the identical young lady who had just performed the solo, in the dirge. I had kissed her that day week! ‘Oh, ho!’ my dear,’ I exclaimed, ‘hadn’t you better have reserved your lugubrious croak for a more fitting occasion? I shall dance at your funeral yet!’ The young lady, without heeding me, looked down at the coffin mournfully; that is, as mournfully as she could look, and at the same time adjust her curls, and cast stolen glances at a young physician in one of the boy-pews, whom I had supplanted in her affections. I was about making some violent remarks on her want of attention to me, and the extreme disrespect of the assembly generally, in not listening to my voice, when it occurred to me that after all I might be only a spirit, and then of course my voice could not be heard by mortal ears.

      This train of reflection led me to consider my corporeal frame. But here was a puzzle; for although everything looked as it used to do, so much so that I would have sworn that I stood on the top of the coffin wholly alive and material, yet it was equally undeniable that I was at that very instant reposing under my feet. With regard to my dress, there was a still greater puzzle. What its material was I could not determine. It felt very light and loose, and almost intangible. I found too that the power of gravitation had but little effect upon me, so that I could rise or sink like a cloud in mid-ether. All these discoveries filled me with wonder; but in the midst of my philosophical meditations I was disturbed by the pall-bearers, who were preparing to remove their load from the church. The day was a fine one; a large procession was formed; the bell sent forth its single heavy notes, and we were on our way to the church-yard.

      ‘I may as well see the show out,’ thought I; so I sat down astride the coffin, folded my arms, and apostrophized my former self beneath: ‘Pleasant companion! Has it at length come to this? a sudden, violent and everlasting parting! Excuse me for not shedding tears, for I can’t, or I would in a moment. A delightful, profitable, though somewhat uncouth servant and associate hast thou been to me, in times past. Kind-hearted wast thou; a little given to pains and grievings of thine own, yet always ready to share mine, and obedient to my slightest wish. I will not cast in thy teeth thy slips and errors of foot, which have been many, and of tongue, which have been more. Forgive any unkind feelings or thoughts which I have entertained toward thee on that account. Forget me, old friend! for I shall soon do the same by thee. I will see thee buried, and then be off. You needn’t feel pained at going away from the world: all things earthly must sooner or later have an end, and hence you are not alone in your misery.’

      Hallo, you, Sir pall-bearer! don’t stumble over every third stone you come to, for you break in upon a very delightful philosophical homily of mine. Your twitchings and jouncings disturb me excessively. ‘If I might suggest, Sir,’ said I to the minister, who was walking very slowly before me, ‘I would beg you to consider that I am bare-headed; the season of the year is mid-summer, and the sun is near his meridian. However, proceed no faster than you deem advisable. Great dunce!’ continued I, aside; ‘I might as well talk to a post! My good friends!’ added I, turning round so as to face the procession behind, ‘my good friends, it would give me great pleasure on this melancholy and distressing occasion to make some remarks on the brevity of human enjoyment, interspersing a few thoughts on the Graham system of diet, and concluding with a beautiful and affecting acknowledgement of the honor you are doing me in escorting my coffin through the streets of your miserable little town. I see, however, that we are now entering the graveyard, and will forbear.’

      Softly, gentleman bearers! set me down softly. So! my course is run, and my ride finished, is it? The grave opens its great mouth, and I must vacate my agreeable seat. ‘By the mysteries of the grave! what’s this, though?’ said I to a companion, who by some magic stood at that instant beside me. ‘Isn’t this Hans Von Spiegel?’ ‘Indeed it is,’ quoth he. ‘But who is Hans Von Spiegel?’ asks the reader. He was a fellow who died five years ago, from a fall which he got from horseback. He was an intimate friend of mine; a little wild, perhaps, but a very good fellow at heart, notwithstanding. Hans sidled up to me and regarded me with a friendly stare. ‘Oh, ho!’ says I. ‘Ah, ha!’ says he. ‘How are you?’ says I. ‘Tolerable,’ says he. ‘You must think us,’ he added, ‘an ill-mannered sort of people, not to have come out and meet you; but the fact is, you died suddenly. If we had known that you had been coming, we should have contrived to receive you with becoming honor. However, I take upon myself the responsibility of welcome.’

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ