The Pickwick Papers
But the earth was hardened with the frost, and it was no very easy
matter to break it up, and shovel it out; and although there was a moon,
it was a very young one, and shed little light upon the grave, which was
in the shadow of the church. At any other time, these obstacles would
have made Gabriel Grub very moody and miserable, but he was so well
pleased with having stopped the small boy’s singing, that he took little
heed of the scanty progress he had made, and looked down into the grave,
when he had finished work for the night, with grim satisfaction,
murmuring as he gathered up his things--
Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, A few feet of cold
earth, when life is done; A stone at the head, a stone at the feet, A
rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat; Rank grass overhead, and damp
clay around, Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground!
‘“Ho! ho!” laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself down on a flat
tombstone which was a favourite resting-place of his, and drew forth his
wicker bottle. “A coffin at Christmas! A Christmas box! Ho! ho! ho!”
‘“Ho! ho! ho!” repeated a voice which sounded close behind him.
‘Gabriel paused, in some alarm, in the act of raising the wicker bottle
to his lips, and looked round. The bottom of the oldest grave about him
was not more still and quiet than the churchyard in the pale moonlight.
The cold hoar frost glistened on the tombstones, and sparkled like rows
of gems, among the stone carvings of the old church. The snow lay hard
and crisp upon the ground; and spread over the thickly-strewn mounds of
earth, so white and smooth a cover that it seemed as if corpses lay
there, hidden only by their winding sheets. Not the faintest rustle
broke the profound tranquillity of the solemn scene. Sound itself
appeared to be frozen up, all was so cold and still.
‘“It was the echoes,” said Gabriel Grub, raising the bottle to his lips
again.
‘“It was _not_,” said a deep voice.
‘Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with astonishment and
terror; for his eyes rested on a form that made his blood run cold.
‘Seated on an upright tombstone, close to him, was a strange, unearthly
figure, whom Gabriel felt at once, was no being of this world. His long,
fantastic legs which might have reached the ground, were cocked up, and
crossed after a quaint, fantastic fashion; his sinewy arms were bare;
and his hands rested on his knees. On his short, round body, he wore a
close covering, ornamented with small slashes; a short cloak dangled at
his back; the collar was cut into curious peaks, which served the goblin
in lieu of ruff or neckerchief; and his shoes curled up at his toes into
long points. On his head, he wore a broad-brimmed sugar-loaf hat,
garnished with a single feather. The hat was covered with the white
frost; and the goblin looked as if he had sat on the same tombstone very
comfortably, for two or three hundred years. He was sitting perfectly
still; his tongue was put out, as if in derision; and he was grinning at
Gabriel Grub with such a grin as only a goblin could call up.
‘“It was _not _the echoes,” said the goblin.
‘Gabriel Grub was paralysed, and could make no reply.
‘“What do you do here on Christmas Eve?” said the goblin sternly.
‘“I came to dig a grave, Sir,” stammered Gabriel Grub.
‘“What man wanders among graves and churchyards on such a night as
this?” cried the goblin.
‘“Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!” screamed a wild chorus of voices that
seemed to fill the churchyard. Gabriel looked fearfully round--nothing
was to be seen.
‘“What have you got in that bottle?” said the goblin.
‘“Hollands, sir,” replied the sexton, trembling more than ever; for he
had bought it of the smugglers, and he thought that perhaps his
questioner might be in the excise department of the goblins.
‘“Who drinks Hollands alone, and in a churchyard, on such a night as
this?” said the goblin.
‘“Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!” exclaimed the wild voices again.
‘The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified sexton, and then raising
his voice, exclaimed--
‘“And who, then, is our fair and lawful prize?”
‘To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, in a strain that sounded
like the voices of many choristers singing to the mighty swell of the
old church organ--a strain that seemed borne to the sexton’s ears upon a
wild wind, and to die away as it passed onward; but the burden of the
reply was still the same, “Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!”
‘The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, as he said, “Well,
Gabriel, what do you say to this?”
‘The sexton gasped for breath.
‘“What do you think of this, Gabriel?” said the goblin, kicking up his
feet in the air on either side of the tombstone, and looking at the
turned-up points with as much complacency as if he had been
contemplating the most fashionable pair of Wellingtons in all Bond
Street.
‘“It’s--it’s--very curious, Sir,” replied the sexton, half dead with
fright; “very curious, and very pretty, but I think I’ll go back and
finish my work, Sir, if you please.”
‘“Work!” said the goblin, “what work?”
‘“The grave, Sir; making the grave,” stammered the sexton.
‘“Oh, the grave, eh?” said the goblin; “who makes graves at a time when
all other men are merry, and takes a pleasure in it?”
‘Again the mysterious voices replied, “Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!”
‘“I am afraid my friends want you, Gabriel,” said the goblin, thrusting
his tongue farther into his cheek than ever--and a most astonishing
tongue it was--“I’m afraid my friends want you, Gabriel,” said the
goblin.
‘“Under favour, Sir,” replied the horror-stricken sexton, “I don’t think
they can, Sir; they don’t know me, Sir; I don’t think the gentlemen have
ever seen me, Sir.”
‘“Oh, yes, they have,” replied the goblin; “we know the man with the
sulky face and grim scowl, that came down the street to-night, throwing
his evil looks at the children, and grasping his burying-spade the
tighter. We know the man who struck the boy in the envious malice of his
heart, because the boy could be merry, and he could not. We know him, we
know him.”
‘Here, the goblin gave a loud, shrill laugh, which the echoes returned
twentyfold; and throwing his legs up in the air, stood upon his head, or
rather upon the very point of his sugar-loaf hat, on the narrow edge of
the tombstone, whence he threw a Somerset with extraordinary agility,
right to the sexton’s feet, at which he planted himself in the attitude
in which tailors generally sit upon the shop-board.
‘“I--I--am afraid I must leave you, Sir,” said the sexton, making an
effort to move.
‘“Leave us!” said the goblin, “Gabriel Grub going to leave us. Ho! ho!
ho!”
‘As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed, for one instant, a
brilliant illumination within the windows of the church, as if the whole
building were lighted up; it disappeared, the organ pealed forth a
lively air, and whole troops of goblins, the very counterpart of the
first one, poured into the churchyard, and began playing at leap-frog
with the tombstones, never stopping for an instant to take breath, but
“overing” the highest among them, one after the other, with the most
marvellous dexterity. The first goblin was a most astonishing leaper,
and none of the others could come near him; even in the extremity of his
terror the sexton could not help observing, that while his friends were
content to leap over the common-sized gravestones, the first one took
the family vaults, iron railings and all, with as much ease as if they
had been so many street-posts.
‘At last the game reached to a most exciting pitch; the organ played
quicker and quicker, and the goblins leaped faster and faster, coiling
themselves up, rolling head over heels upon the ground, and bounding
over the tombstones like footballs. The sexton’s brain whirled round
with the rapidity of the motion he beheld, and his legs reeled beneath
him, as the spirits flew before his eyes; when the goblin king, suddenly
darting towards him, laid his hand upon his collar, and sank with him
through the earth.
‘When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his breath, which the rapidity
of his descent had for the moment taken away, he found himself in what
appeared to be a large cavern, surrounded on all sides by crowds of
goblins, ugly and grim; in the centre of the room, on an elevated seat,
was stationed his friend of the churchyard; and close behind him stood
Gabriel Grub himself, without power of motion.
‘“Cold to-night,” said the king of the goblins, “very cold. A glass of
something warm here!”
‘At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, with a perpetual smile
upon their faces, whom Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers, on that
account, hastily disappeared, and presently returned with a goblet of
liquid fire, which they presented to the king.
‘“Ah!” cried the goblin, whose cheeks and throat were transparent, as he
tossed down the flame, “this warms one, indeed! Bring a bumper of the
same, for Mr. Grub.”
‘It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest that he was not in
the habit of taking anything warm at night; one of the goblins held him
while another poured the blazing liquid down his throat; the whole
assembly screeched with laughter, as he coughed and choked, and wiped
away the tears which gushed plentifully from his eyes, after swallowing
the burning draught.
‘“And now,” said the king, fantastically poking the taper corner of his
sugar-loaf hat into the sexton’s eye, and thereby occasioning him the
most exquisite pain; “and now, show the man of misery and gloom, a few
of the pictures from our own great storehouse!”
‘As the goblin said this, a thick cloud which obscured the remoter end
of the cavern rolled gradually away, and disclosed, apparently at a
great distance, a small and scantily furnished, but neat and clean
apartment. A crowd of little children were gathered round a bright fire,
clinging to their mother’s gown, and gambolling around her chair. The
mother occasionally rose, and drew aside the window-curtain, as if to
look for some expected object; a frugal meal was ready spread upon the
table; and an elbow chair was placed near the fire. A knock was heard at
the door; the mother opened it, and the children crowded round her, and
clapped their hands for joy, as their father entered. He was wet and
weary, and shook the snow from his garments, as the children crowded
round him, and seizing his cloak, hat, stick, and gloves, with busy
zeal, ran with them from the room. Then, as he sat down to his meal
before the fire, the children climbed about his knee, and the mother sat
by his side, and all seemed happiness and comfort.
‘But a change came upon the view, almost imperceptibly. The scene was
altered to a small bedroom, where the fairest and youngest child lay
dying; the roses had fled from his cheek, and the light from his eye;
and even as the sexton looked upon him with an interest he had never
felt or known before, he died. His young brothers and sisters crowded
round his little bed, and seized his tiny hand, so cold and heavy; but
they shrank back from its touch, and looked with awe on his infant face;
for calm and tranquil as it was, and sleeping in rest and peace as the
beautiful child seemed to be, they saw that he was dead, and they knew
that he was an angel looking down upon, and blessing them, from a bright
and happy Heaven.
‘Again the light cloud passed across the picture, and again the subject
changed. The father and mother were old and helpless now, and the number
of those about them was diminished more than half; but content and
cheerfulness sat on every face, and beamed in every eye, as they crowded
round the fireside, and told and listened to old stories of earlier and