CHAPTER LXX.
THE FUNERAL OF THE STRANGER OF THE INN.--THE POPULAR COMMOTION, AND MRS.CHILLINGWORTH'S APPEAL TO THE MOB.--THE NEW RIOT.--THE HALL IN DANGER.
As yet the town was quiet; and, though there was no appearance of riotor disturbance, yet the magistracy had taken every precaution theydeemed needful, or their position and necessities warranted, to securethe peace of the town from the like disturbance to that which had been,of late, a disgrace and terror of peaceably-disposed persons.
The populace were well advertised of the fact, that the body of thestranger was to be buried that morning in their churchyard; and that, toprotect the body, should there be any necessity for so doing, a largebody of constables would be employed.
There was no disposition to riot; at least, none was visible. It lookedas if there was some event about to take place that was highlyinteresting to all parties, who were peaceably assembling to witness theinterment of nobody knew who.
The early hour at which persons were assembling, at different points,clearly indicated that there was a spirit of curiosity about the town,so uncommon that none would have noticed it but for the fact of thecrowd of people who hung about the streets, and there remained, listlessand impatient.
The inn, too, was crowded with visitors, and there were many who, notbeing blessed with the strength of purse that some were, were hangingabout in the distance, waiting and watching the motions of those whowere better provided.
"Ah!" said one of the visitors, "this is a disagreeable job in yourhouse, landlord."--"Yes, sir; I'd sooner it had happened elsewhere, Iassure you. I know it has done me no good."
"No; no man could expect any, and yet it is none the less unfortunatefor that."--"I would sooner anything else happen than that, whatever itmight be. I think it must be something very bad, at all events; but Idare say I shall never see the like again."
"So much the better for the town," said another; "for, what withvampyres and riots, there has been but little else stirring thanmischief and disturbances of one kind and another."
"Yes; and, what between Varneys and Bannerworths, we have had but littlepeace here."
"Precisely. Do you know it's my opinion that the least thing would upsetthe whole town. Any one unlucky word would do it, I am sure," said atall thin man.
"I have no doubt of it," said another; "but I hope the military would dotheir duty under such circumstances, for people's lives and property arenot safe in such a state of things."--"Oh, dear no."
"I wonder what has become of Varney, or where he can have goneto."--"Some thought he must have been burned when they burned hishouse," replied the landlord.
"But I believe it generally understood he's escaped, has he not? Notraces of his body were found in the ruins."--"None. Oh! he's escaped,there can be no doubt of that. I wish I had some fortune depending uponthe fact; it would be mine, I am sure."
"Well, the lord keep us from vampyres and suchlike cattle," said an oldwoman. "I shall never sleep again in my bed with any safety. Itfrightens one out of one's life to think of it. What a shame the mendidn't catch him and stake him!"
The old woman left the inn as soon as she had spoke this Christianspeech.
"Humane!" said a gentleman, with a sporting coat on. "The old woman isno advocate for half measures!"
"You are right, sir," said the landlord; "and a very good look-out shekeeps upon the pot, to see it's full, and carefully blows the frothoff!"--"Ah! I thought as much."
"How soon will the funeral take place, landlord?" inquired a person, whohad at that moment entered the inn.--"In about an hour's time, sir."
"Oh! the town seems pretty full, though it is very quiet. I suppose itis more as a matter of curiosity people congregate to see the funeral ofthis stranger?"
"I hope so, sir."
"The time is wearing on, and if they don't make a dust, why then themilitary will not be troubled."
"I do not expect anything more, sir," said the landlord; "for you seethey must have had their swing out, as the saying is, and be fullysatisfied. They cannot have much more to do in the way of exhibitingtheir anger or dislike to vampyres--they all have done enough."
"So they have--so they have."
"Granted," said an old man with a troublesome cough; "but when did youever know a mob to be satisfied? If they wanted the moon and got it,they'd find out it would be necessary to have the stars also."
"That's uncommonly true," said the landlord. "I shouldn't be surprisedif they didn't do something worse than ever."--"Nothing more likely,"said the little old man. "I can believe anything of a mob--anything--nomatter what."
The inn was crowded with visitors, and several extra hands were employedto wait upon the customers, and a scene of bustle and activity wasdisplayed that was never before seen. It would glad the heart of alandlord, though he were made of stone, and landlords are usually ofmuch more malleable materials than that.
However, the landlord had hardly time to congratulate himself, for thebearers were come now, and the undertaker and his troop ofdeath-following officials.
There was a stir among the people, who began now to awaken from thelethargy that seemed to have come over them while they were waiting forthe moment when it should arrive, that was to place the body under thegreen sod, against which so much of their anger had been raised. Therewas a decent silence that pervaded the mob of individuals who hadassembled.
Death, with all its ghastly insignia, had an effect even upon theunthinking multitude, who were ever ready to inflict death or anyviolent injury upon any object that came in their way--they neverhesitated; but even these, now the object of their hatred was no more,felt appalled.
'Tis strange what a change comes over masses of men as they gaze upon adead body. It may be that they all know that to that complexion theymust come at last. This may be the secret of the respect offered to thedead.
The undertakers are men, however, who are used to the presence ofdeath--it is their element; they gain a living by attending upon thelast obsequies of the dead; they are used to dead bodies, and care notfor them. Some of them are humane men, that is, in their way; and evenamong them are men who wouldn't be deprived of the joke as they screweddown the last screw. They could not forbear, even on this occasion, tohold their converse when left alone.
"Jacobs," said one who was turning a long screw, "Jacobs, my boy, do youtake the chair to-night?"--"Yes," said Jacobs who was a longlugubrious-looking man, "I do take the chair, if I live over thisblessed event."
"You are not croaking, Jacobs, are you? Well, you are a lively customer,you are."--"Lively--do you expect people to be lively when they are fulldressed for a funeral? You are a nice article for your profession. Youdon't feel like an undertaker, you don't."
"Don't, Jacobs, my boy. As long as I look like one when occasiondemands; when I have done my job I puts my comfort in my pocket, andthinks how much more pleasanter it is to be going to other people'sfunerals than to our own, and then only see the difference as regardsthe money."
"True," said Jacobs with a groan; "but death's a melancholy article, atall events."--"So it is."
"And then when you come to consider the number of people we haveburied--how many have gone to their last homes--and how many more willgo the same way."--"Yes, yes; that's all very well, Jacob. You areprecious surly this morning. I'll come to-night. You're brewing asentimental tale as sure as eggs is eggs."
"Well, that is pretty certain; but as I was saying how many more arethere--"
"Ah, don't bother yourself with calculations that have neither beginningnor end, and which haven't one point to go. Come, Jacob, have youfinished yet?"--"Quite," said Jacob.
They now arranged the pall, and placed all in readiness, and returned toa place down stairs where they could enjoy themselves for an odd halfhour, and pass that time away until the moment should arrive when hisreverence would be ready to bury the deceased, upon consideration of thefees to be paid upon the occasion.
The tap-room was crowded, and there wa
s no room for the men, and theywere taken into the kitchen, where they were seated, and earnestly atwork, preparing for the ceremony that had so shortly to be performed.
"Any better, Jacobs?"--"What do you mean?" inquired Jacobs, with agroan. "It's news to me if I have been ill."
"Oh, yes, you were doleful up stairs, you know."--"I've a proper regardfor my profession--that's the difference between you and I, you know."
"I'll wager you what you like, now, that I'll handle a corpse and drivea screw in a coffin as well as you, now, although you are so solid andmiserable."--"So you may--so you may."
"Then what do you mean by saying I haven't a proper regard for myprofession?"--"I say you haven't, and there's the thing that shall proveit--you don't look it, and that's the truth."
"I don't look like an undertaker! indeed I dare say I don't if I ain'tdressed like one."--"Nor when you are," reiterated Jacob.
"Why not, pray?"--"Because you have always a grin on your face as broadas a gridiron--that's why."
This ended the dispute, for the employer of the men suddenly put hishead in, saying,--
"Come, now, time's up; you are wanted up stairs, all of you. Be quick;we shall have his reverence waiting for us, and then we shall lose hisrecommendation."
"Ready sir," said the round man, taking up his pint and finishing it offat a draught, at the same moment he thrust the remains of some bread andcheese into his pocket.
Jacob, too, took his pot, and, having finished it, with great gravityfollowed the example of his more jocose companion, and they all left thekitchen for the room above, where the corpse was lying ready forinterment.
There was an unusual bustle; everybody was on the tip-top ofexpectation, and awaiting the result in a quiet hurry, and hoped to havethe first glimpse of the coffin, though why they should do so it wasdifficult to define. But in this fit of mysterious hope and expectationthey certainly stood.
"Will they be long?" inquired a man at the door of one inside,--"willthey be long before they come?"--"They are coming now," said the man."Do you all keep quiet; they are knocking their heads against the top ofthe landing. Hark! There, I told you so."
The man departed, hearing something, and being satisfied that he had gotsome information.
"Now, then," said the landlord, "move out of the way, and allow thecorpse to pass out. Let me have no indecent conduct; let everything beas it should be."
The people soon removed from the passage and vicinity of the doorway,and then the mournful procession--as the newspapers have it--movedforward. They were heard coming down stairs, and thence along thepassage, until they came to the street, and then the whole number ofattendants was plainly discernible.
How different was the funeral of one who had friends. He was alone; nonefollowed, save the undertaker and his attendants, all of whom lookedsolemn from habit and professional motives. Even the jocose man was assupernaturally solemn as could be well imagined; indeed, nobody knew hewas the same man.
"Well," said the landlord, as he watched them down the street, as theyslowly paced their way with funereal, not sorrowful, solemnity--"well, Iam very glad that it is all over."
"It has been a sad plague to you," said one.
"It has, indeed; it must be to any one who has had another such a job asthis. I don't say it out of any disrespect to the poor man who is deadand gone--quite the reverse; but I would not have such another affair onmy hands for pounds."
"I can easily believe you, especially when we come to consider thedisagreeables of a mob."
"You may say that. There's no knowing what they will or won't do,confound them! If they'd act like men, and pay for what they have, why,then I shouldn't care much about them; but it don't do to have otherpeople in the bar."
"I should think not, indeed; that would alter the scale of your profits,I reckon."
"It would make all the difference to me. Business," added the landlord,"conducted on that scale, would become a loss; and a man might as wellwalk into a well at once."
"So I should say. Have many such occurrences as these been usual in thispart of the country?" inquired the stranger.
"Not usual at all," said the landlord; "but the fact is, the wholeneighbourhood has run distracted about some superhuman being they call avampyre."
"Indeed!"--"Yes; and they suspected the unfortunate man who has beenlying up-stairs, a corpse, for some days."
"Oh, the man they have just taken in the coffin to bury?" said thestranger.
"Yes, sir, the same."
"Well, I thought perhaps somebody of great consequence had suddenlybecome defunct."--"Oh, dear no; it would not have caused half thesensation; people have been really mad."
"It was a strange occurrence, altogether, I believe, was it?" inquiredthe stranger.--"Indeed it was, sir. I hardly know the particulars, therehave been so many tales afloat; though they all concur in one point, andthat is, it has destroyed the peace of one family."
"Who has done so?"--"The vampyre."
"Indeed! I never heard of such an animal, save as a fable, before; itseems to me extraordinary."
"So it would do to any one, sir, as was not on the spot, to see it; I'msure I wouldn't."
* * * * *
In the meantime, the procession, short as it was of itself, moved alongin slow time through a throng of people who ran out of their houses oneither side of the way, and lined the whole length of the town.
Many of these closed in behind, and followed the mourners until theywere near the church, and then they made a rush to get into thechurchyard.
As yet all had been conducted with tolerable propriety, the funeral metwith no impediment. The presence of death among so many of them seemedsome check upon the licence of the mob, who bowed in silence to themajesty of death.
Who could bear ill-will against him who was now no more? Man, while heis man, is always the subject of hatred, fear, or love. Some one ofthese passions, in a modified state, exists in all men, and with suchfeelings they will regard each other; and it is barely possible that anyone should not be the object of some of these, and hence the stranger'scorpse was treated with respect.
In silence the body proceeded along the highway until it came to thechurchyard, and followed by an immense multitude of people of allgrades.
The authorities trembled; they knew not what all this portended. Theythought it might pass off; but it might become a storm first; they hopedand feared by turns, till some of them fell sick with apprehension.
There was a deep silence observed by all those in the immediate vicinityof the coffin, but those farther in the rear found full expression fortheir feelings.
"Do you think," said an old man to another, "that he will come to lifeagain, eh?"--"Oh, yes, vampyres always do, and lay in the moonlight, andthen they come to life again. Moonlight recovers a vampyre to lifeagain."
"And yet the moonlight is cold."--"Ah, but who's to tell what may happento a vampyre, or what's hot or what's cold?"
"Certainly not; oh, dear, no."--"And then they have permission to suckthe blood of other people, to live themselves, and to make other peoplevampyres, too."
"The lord have mercy upon us!"--"Ay, but they have driven a stakethrough this one, and he can't get in moonlight or daylight; it's allover--he's certainly done for; we may congratulate ourselves on thispoint."
"So we may--so we may."
They now neared the grave, the clergyman officiating as usual on suchoccasions. There was a large mob of persons on all sides, with seriousfaces, watching the progress of the ceremony, and who listened inquietness.
There was no sign of any disturbance amongst the people, and theauthorities were well pleased; they congratulated themselves upon thequietness and orderliness of the assemblage.
The service was ended and the coffin lowered, and the earth was thrownon the coffin-lid with a hollow sound. Nobody could hear that soundunmoved. But in a short while the sound ceased as the grave becamefilled; it was then trodden carefully down.
* * * * *
The mob watched the last shovel-full of earth thrown upon the coffin,and witnessed the ramming down of the soil, and the heaping of it overat top to make the usual monument; for all this was done speedily andcarefully, lest there should be any tendency to exhume the body of thedeceased.
The people were now somewhat relieved, as to their state of solemnityand silence. They would all of them converse freely on the matter thathad so long occupied their thoughts.
They seemed now let loose, and everybody found himself at liberty to sayor do something, no matter if it were not very reasonable; that is notalways required of human beings who have souls, or, at least it isunexpected; and were it expected, the expectation would never berealized.
The day was likely to wear away without a riot, nay, even without afight; a most extraordinary occurrence for such a place under theexisting circumstances; for of late the populace, or, perhaps, thetownspeople, were extremely pugnacious, and many were the disputes thatwere settled by the very satisfactory application of the knuckles to thehead of the party holding a contrary opinion.
Thus it was they were ready to take fire, and a hubbub would be theresult of the slightest provocation. But, on the present occasion, therewas a remarkable dearth of, all subjects of the nature described.
Who was to lead Israel out to battle? Alas! no one on the presentoccasion.
Such a one, however, appeared, at least, one who furnished a readyexcuse for a disturbance.
Suddenly, Mrs Chillingworth appeared in the midst of a large concourseof people. She had just left her house, which was close at hand, hereyes red with weeping, and her children around her on this occasion.
The crowd made way for her, and gathered round her to see what was goingto happen.
"Friends and neighbours," she said "can any of you relieve the tears ofa distressed wife and mother, have any of you seen anything of myhusband, Mr. Chillingworth?"
"What the doctor?" exclaimed one.--"Yes; Mr. Chillingworth, the surgeon.He has not been home two days and a night. I'm distracted!--what canhave become of him I don't know, unless--"
Here Mrs Chillingworth paused, and some person said,--
"Unless what, Mrs Chillingworth? there are none but friends here, whowish the doctor well, and would do anything to serve him--unless what?speak out."
"Unless he's been destroyed by the vampyre. Heaven knows what we may allcome to! Here am I and my children deprived of our protector by somemeans which we cannot imagine. He never, in all his life, did the samebefore."
"He must have been spirited away by some of the vampyres. I'll tell youwhat, friend," said one to another, "that something must be done;nobody's safe in their bed."
"No; they are not, indeed. I think that all vampyres ought to be burnedand a stake run through them, and then we should be safe."
"Ay; but you must destroy all those who are even suspected of beingvampyres, or else one may do all the mischief."--"So he might."
"Hurrah!" shouted the mob. "Chillingworth for ever! We'll find thedoctor somewhere, if we pull down the whole town."
There was an immense commotion among the populace, who began to startthrowing stones, and do all sorts of things without any particularobject, and some, as they said, to find the doctor, or to show howwilling they were to do so if they knew how.
Mrs. Chillingworth, however, kept on talking to the mob, who continuedshouting; and the authorities anticipated an immediate outbreak ofpopular opinion, which is generally accompanied by some forcibledemonstration, and on this occasion some one suggested the propriety ofburning down Bannerworth Hall; because they had burned down thevampyre's home, and they might as well burn down that of the injuredparty, which was carried by acclamation; and with loud shouts theystarted on their errand.
This was a mob's proceeding all over, and we regret very much to say,that it is very much the characteristic of English mobs. What anuncommonly strange thing it is that people in multitudes seem completelyto get rid of all reason--all honour--all common ordinary honesty;while, if you were to take the same people singly, you would find thatthey were reasonable enough, and would shrink with a feeling quiteapproaching to horror from anything in the shape of very flagrantinjustice.
This can only be accounted for by a piece of cowardice in the humanrace, which induces them when alone, and acting with the fullresponsibility of their actions, to shrink from what it is quite evidentthey have a full inclination to do, and will do when, having partiallylost their individuality in a crowd, they fancy, that to a certainextent they can do so with impunity.
The burning of Sir Francis Varney's house, although it was one of thoseproceedings which would not bear the test of patient examination, wasyet, when we take all the circumstances into consideration, an actreally justifiable and natural in comparison with the one which was nowmeditated.
Bannerworth Hall had never been the residence even of anyone who haddone the people any injury or given them any offence, so that to let itbecome a prey to the flames was but a gratuitous act of mischief.
It was, however, or seemed to be, doomed, for all who have had anyexperience in mobs, must know how extremely difficult it is to withdrawthem from any impulse once given, especially when that impulse, as inthe present instance, is of a violent character.
"Down with Bannerworth Hall!" was the cry. "Burn it--burn it," andaugmented by fresh numbers each minute, the ignorant, and, in manyrespects, ruffianly assemblage, soon arrived within sight of what hadbeen for so many years the bane of the Bannerworths, and whatever mayhave been the fault of some of that race, those faults had been of adomestic character, and not at all such as would interfere with thepublic weal.
The astonished, and almost worn-out authorities, hastily, now, afterhaving disposed of their prisoners, collected together what troops theycould, and by the time the misguided, or rather the not guided at allpopulace, had got halfway to Bannerworth Hall, they were beingoutflanked by some of the dragoons, who, by taking a more direct route,hoped to reach Bannerworth Hall first, and so perhaps, by letting themob see that it was defended, induce them to give up the idea of itsdestruction on account of the danger attendant upon the proceeding byfar exceeding any of the anticipated delight of the disturbance.
Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 69
