The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 390, September 19, 1829

THE SKETCH-BOOK

A NIGHT IN A SEDAN CHAIR

From the German of Theodore Koerner

(For the Mirror.)

I came from a party where the wine had not been spared, and the guests had but just separated, in a state of tolerable elevation. It was a drear and stormy autumn night. On reaching the door of my abode, I first became aware that I had forgotten the key. As I could not imagine that any one would be awake at this late hour,—for it now drew near twelve—and, besides, as I lived on the fourth story, I had humanity enough not to alarm the whole street, by ringing and shouting, for admittance. As this was a circumstance of no very infrequent occurrence, I was not long perplexed for a shelter; but directed my steps, as usual, towards the sedan stand, at the market place, where of course I still met with society, though fast locked in the fetters of sleep. In the hall, lay stretched and snoring, the whole corps of the honourable company of sedan chairmen; and on a bench near the wall, lay, as usual, the sleeping guardian of the night. Without troubling myself much about my companions, I gently opened a sedan—crept into the corner—and slept much the sooner for "the good wine having done its good office" on me.

I had slept but a very short time when I heard it strike twelve; the watchman now arose, and blew a blast upon his horn that thrilled through my every nerve, and sang:—

 
List—Christians list!—the passing bell
Of twelve, has just now told its knell,
And midnight is, when evil sprites,
Scare the tired sense, with wild affrights.
Now close your eyes in peace, and rest
Till morning rays illume the west:
Praise God the Lord!
 

A second time he blew his horn, and the sound re-echoed fearfully through the old Town House; the storm howled terrifically, and the rain pattered against the panes of my dwelling. In spite of the injunction of the watchman, I opened my eyes, and beheld him advancing towards the other end of the market-place, where he stopped to repeat his song; and again occasionally from street to street, till his voice died away in the distance. At this moment I was seized with an indefinable sensation of dread. I would have run after the watchman, but the rain deterred me. He, too, might have sung of something else than exactly of that fearful hour of night—

 
"When tombs do yawn and graves yield up their dead."
 

I did not feel at all comfortable. I was, notwithstanding, just about to nestle myself up again in the corner, and once more close my eyes, when they lighted on two, tall, meagre forms, whom I immediately recognised by their garb as chairmen. There was something mysterious in their movements, as if they were consulting on matters of grave import—of their discourse I could understand nothing—and their voices sounded to me, in the chair, something like the noise made by a brush when drawn over the surface of a sheet of paper. I was considering what might be the result of all this, when they suddenly seized hold of the chair, and marched off. I ought now indeed to have called out to them, but partly from a curiosity to discover the cause of this singular nocturnal ramble, and partly from a fear of being roughly treated for my obtrusiveness, I was induced to remain quietly in my corner. My weight did not seem to attract their notice; but how great was my astonishment on observing that my bearers were carrying me, in unvarying circles, round the market place, though at every turn they contracted the space they traversed—and that the usual heavy-sounding tread of the chairmen was changed for a noiseless, gliding pace. I looked out to see whether they had not drawn off their boots, but I was soon convinced by the evidence of my eyes that their heavy boots were in unison with the rest of the customary apparel of that class. Their evolutions now became gradually narrower, and I, in the same proportion, more anxious and excited. At length they stopped, panting, under the lamp-post which stands in the middle of the market place, and I was once more greeted by those low, hoarse sounds, which I have already mentioned, and it was only by dint of the most attentive listening, that I could distinguish the following words:

 
We are formed of the mist of the grave,
We bear to the feast of the slain,
There we carry the free and the slave,
The host and his numberless train,
Yonder we carry—to and fro,
Nor end our labours e'er shall know.
 

At this moment a mist floated before my eyes—I endeavoured to shout—but although I used the utmost exertion, I could not produce a sound—I felt as if palsied and enchained—my situation was desperate—what species of civility could I expect from the spirits, (for that they were supernatural beings I could no longer doubt) of those chairmen who during their mortal career are so noted for their brutality? After a short halt, they recommenced their march at the same stealthy pace, through how many streets I cannot now tell, for fear almost deprived me of my senses. We came to the town gate—it opened—and my conductors bore me directly towards—the churchyard! I was in a fever of excitement. They no sooner reached this desired spot, than they stopped, and I heard their accursed voices for the third time. They opened the door, as if waiting for some one—I endeavoured to embrace this opportunity to escape, or to call out, but my strength had totally deserted me; every limb felt paralyzed. And now a whole legion of similar fiends swarmed around my conductors, and one after another, sprang in upon me, apparently no more remarking my presence than if I had formed part of the cushion. The first that fell upon me was a cold, heavy carcass that might have been buried, at farthest, about three days. I thought horror and disgust would have destroyed me. Then came a countless myriad of the skeletons of the defunct, all crowding into the sedan, as if it had been the ark of Noah. At length, to all appearance, the whole of the inhabitants of the churchyard were safely seated upon and beside me, and the tombstones which had pertinaciously adhered to many a greasy soul, added not a little to the load which lay rattling and groaning upon me. A monstrous skeleton which lay at my side—with its eternal grin—made the most horrible inroads into my right side with its bony elbow, and such a smell—even now I wonder that every sense did not leave me. The patience of my bearers seemed however now to be exhausted. They still battled at the door with hundreds of this amiable fraternity; at length they dashed the door to with a force that made the windows quiver, and made off with me and my noble troop. And now it was that the rattling, and groaning, and the elbow manoeuvre were first fully brought into action, and in their endeavours to seat themselves more conveniently, my accursed freight jolted from one side to the other till I thought my knees would have broken down under their burthen. One would imagine that in such numerous society I should have been warmly seated, yet no icehouse ever was colder. At every step that our bearers took, the icy mass of putridity before me, shook together—my flesh creeps even now at the recollection. The company, growing merry, began to sing—and with organs similar to those I had already remarked in our guides; but what airs! what tunes! The corpse before me seemed to be a leading singer; his soul-moving, heart-rending treble, sounded something like scraping slate pencil upon glass; the stave was of the following joyous import:—

 
See, how glows the deadly wine,
Upon the bony lip,
And arranged in spectral line,
Our joyous numbers trip.
See—attentive at her side,
The ghastly lover woos his bride;
Whilst sepulchral music flowing,
Scares the dawning day from growing.
 

To the latest hour of my existence, I shall retain a vivid recollection of this auricular martyrdom. After a ride of about half an hour, during which, my situation was more horrible than I can depict, our conductors stopped at another churchyard; the door was now opened, and as each passed forward to escape, a terrific squabble ensued between the cargo and my two attendants, probably about the fare. A third time I strained every nerve to call out, but it was absolutely impossible; at length, however, their quarrel seemed to have been adjusted; the chairman shut the door, still grumbling, and I was again, thank God, alone—could once more breathe freely—and by degrees became warmer. My conductors took their way through the gate back again, and I became more easy in the reflection that, in consonance with old habits of good order, they would probably replace the chair in its original situation; but, to my astonishment and terror, I now first became aware that the size of my conductors was rapidly enlarging. Instantly their statures became more exalted, their forms more aerial, and their strides more gigantic; and I could see distinctly into the first floor of the houses of the street through which we were passing. In the square where stands the monument of our late lamented monarch, their forms became really terrific, and as the foremost strode past, he swept the statue from its pedestal with his coat, with as much apparent ease as if it had been a wax doll. In the next street, I could, without difficulty, look into the third floor of the houses we were passing, and on reaching the market place, I found myself elevated to the altitude of the church-clock; my bearers having become as attenuated as the conductor. Here all consciousness left me, and what farther became of me, I know not. On recovering myself, I lay in the chair which stood in its old place. It was already near mid-day; I therefore crept softly out of my fearful tenement, and luckily escaped unobserved. My friends to whom I related my adventure, said, that I had dreamed—that I had been visited by the nightmare—but to me it has always appeared singular, that for the whole of the next day, my coat had a smell as earthy as if it had lain in a grave; and that the storm should this very night have thrown down the statue of the king from its pedestal.

J.H.F.