Assembling. There Were A Few Relations From The Town, And Some Of
Marianne'S Acquaintances, Such As Tom Robson, Torpander, And Woodlouse.
Anders Begmand Was Not There: No Amount Of Persuasion Could Prevent Him
From Following The Consul'S Funeral.
At Marianne'S Funeral There Was No Undertaker To Regulate The Pace Of
The Procession, And The Young Sailors Stepped Out Briskly With The
Coffin. They Thus Managed To Arrive At The Town Just As The Consul'S
Chapter 23 Pg 146
Remains Were Being Carried Into The Church. Now, It Would Scarcely Do
For Them To Go Through The Town Along The Road Leading To The Cemetery,
Which Was Strewn With Green Leaves, And With Lilac And Laburnum
Blossoms, For Mr. Garman. There Was, Therefore, Nothing For It But To
Wait Until The Service Was Over. It Was Hot Work Carrying A Coffin,
Dressed In Sunday Clothes, And They Therefore Put Down Their Burden On
The Steps Of A Cottage Hard By, Whilst Several Of Them Took Off Their
Jackets In Order To Get A Bit Cooler.
On The Opposite Side Of The Street There Was A Small Beerhouse. There
Were Several Of Them To Whom A Pint Of Beer Would Have Been Very
Grateful, And Who Had The Money In Their Pockets To Pay For It; But
Perhaps It Would Hardly Do.
The Sailors Stood Talking Together, And Turning Their Quids In Their
Mouths; Dry In The Throat Were They, And Opposite Was The Open Door Of
The Beerhouse, With Jugs And Bottles On The Counter. It Looked So Cool
And Moist In There, And The Street Was Perfectly Empty, For All The
World Was Crowding To The Cemetery. At Length One Slunk Across The
Street And Sneaked In; Two More Followed. It Seemed But Too Probable
That All The Bearers Would Give Way To The Same Temptation; So Tom
Robson Went Over To The Group, And, Putting A Five-Kroner Note Into The
Hand Of The Eldest, Said, "There! You Can Drink That, But On Condition
That Only Two Go In at A Time."
The Stipulation Was Agreed To Without A Murmur, And They Took Their
Turns In The Most Orderly Way. A Great Many Pints Of Beer Go To A
Five-Kroner Note. Martin And Tom Robson Resolutely Turned Their Backs On
The Temptation. Woodlouse Resisted It For A Long Time, But In The End He
Was Obliged To Give Way. Torpander Was Sitting On A Stone At The Corner
Of The Cottage, Gazing At The Coffin. His Silk Handkerchief Had, In
Accordance With His Earnest Request, Been Allowed To Follow Marianne To
The Grave; And On The Lid Of The Coffin, Over Her Heart, Lay A Garland
Which Had Cost Him Three Kroner. This Was The Only Adornment The Coffin
Possessed, For Most Of The Flowers From The West End Had Been Bought By
The Townspeople For The Consul'S Funeral. Marianne Would Otherwise Have
Had Plenty.
At Length The People Began To Stream Out Of The Church; Those Who Were
With Marianne Had To Wait Till The Main Procession Arrived At The
Cemetery. The Seamen Then, After Moistening Their Palms In The Usual
Way, Went On With Their Burden With Renewed Vigour. There Was No Change
From The Five-Kroner Note.
No One Could Remember To Have Seen So Long A Funeral Procession As That
Which Followed The Young Consul. It Reached Almost From The Church Door,
To The Gate Of The Cemetery, Which Lay In a Distant Part Of The Town. As
They Began To Move Slowly Along The Road, A Whole Crowd Of Hats Came
Into View, Hats Of All Kinds And Shapes. There Was Morten'S New Hat
Fresh From Paris, And The Well-Known Broad Brim Of Dean Sparre. There
Were Hats Of The Old Chimney-Pot Shape, With Scarcely Any Brim At All,
While Others Had Brims Which Hung Over Almost Like The Roof Of A Swiss
Cottage. Some Hats Had A Red Tinge When They Came Into The Glare Of The
Sunshine, While Others Were Brushed As Smooth As Velvet. Twenty Years'
Changing Fashions Were Blended Together Like A Packet Of "Mixed Drops."
Only Old Anders Was Still Constant To His Cap, Which Was Covered With
Pitch As Usual. A Crowd Of Boys And Children Followed On Both Sides Of
The Road, And The Cemetery, Which Lay On The Slope Of The Hill, Was
Chapter 23 Pg 147
Already Thronged At The Part Near The Garmans' Tomb.
At The Entrance Of The Churchyard Were Planted Two Large Flag-Staves
Decorated With Wreaths; The Flags, Which Were At Half-Mast, Hung Down To
The Ground, Waving Gently In The Light Breeze. The Town Band Was Now
Allowed A Moment'S Rest. The Whole Way From The Church It Had Played
Incessantly An Indescribable Air; And It Was Only In The Evening, When
An Account Appeared In The Papers, That The Air Was Recognized As
Chopin'S Funeral March.
The Precentor, With His Choristers, "Satan'S Clerks," As He Used To Call
Them When He Was Annoyed, Begun To Intone A Psalm. The Coffin Was Lifted
From The Hearse, And Carried Through The Cemetery, By The Principal
Merchants Of The Town.
It Was A Magnificent Spectacle, As The Long Funeral Procession, With
Here And There A Uniform, And Its Many Flower-Decorated Banners, Moved
Majestically Along Through The Seething Crowd Of Women And Children,
Which Stood Closely Packed On And Among The Graves On Both Sides Of The
Path.
The Funeral Party Now Assembled Round The Grave, Into Which The Coffin
Was Lowered. The Merchants Who Had Carried It Looked Relieved When He
Was Laid To Rest; He Had Been An Equally Heavy Burden To Them Both In
Death And In Life. The Singing Ceased, And A Silence Ensued, As The
Clergyman Ascended The Little Heap Of Earth Which Had Been Thrown Up At
The Side Of The Grave.
During The Latter Part Of The Preparation Of His Discourse, The Chaplain
Had Felt Keenly In What A Difficult Position He Was Placed In Regard To
The Deceased. Since His Engagement With Madeleine, His First Duty Was To
Be Strictly Impartial, And Not To Allow Himself To Be Led Into Any
Flattering Expressions, Which Would Be Quite Out Of Place From The Lips
Of One Who Had, In Point Of Fact, Become One Of The Family.
The Dean Had, In His Discourse In The Church, Dwelt Entirely On The
Merits Of The Deceased, As A Fellow-Citizen And As A Good Man Of
Business, Who Had, Almost Like A Father, Found Daily Bread For Hundreds,
And Who Had Shed Happiness And
