John Mortonson's Funeral

by Ambrose Bierce

　　

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John Mortonson was dead: his lines in 'the tragedy "Man"' had all beenspoken and he had left the stage.The body rested in a fine mahogany coffin fitted with a plate ofglass. All arrangements for the funeral had been so well attended tothat had the deceased known he would doubtless have approved. The face,as it showed under the glass, was not disagreeable to look upon: it borea faint smile, and as the death had been painless, had not beendistorted beyond the repairing power of the undertaker. At two o'clockof the afternoon the friends were to assemble to pay their last tributeof respect to one who had no further need of friends and respect. Thesurviving members of the family came severally every few minutes to thecasket and wept above the placid features beneath the glass. This didthem no good; it did no good to John Mortonson; but in the presence ofdeath reason and philosophy are silent.As the hour of two approached the friends began to arrive and afteroffering such consolation to the stricken relatives as the proprietiesof the occasion required, solemnly seated themselves about the room withan augmented consciousness of their importance in the scheme funereal.Then the minister came, and in that overshadowing presence the lesserlights went into eclipse. His entrance was followed by that of thewidow, whose lamentations filled the room. She approached the casket andafter leaning her face against the cold glass for a moment was gentlyled to a seat near her daughter. Mournfully and low the man of God beganhis eulogy of the dead, and his doleful voice, mingled with the sobbingwhich it was its purpose to stimulate and sustain, rose and fell, seemedto come and go, like the sound of a sullen sea. The gloomy day grewdarker as he spoke; a curtain of cloud underspread the sky and a fewdrops of rain fell audibly. It seemed as if all nature were weeping forJohn Mortonson.When the minister had finished his eulogy with prayer a hymn wassung and the pall-bearers took their places beside the bier. As the lastnotes of the hymn died away the widow ran to the coffin, cast herselfupon it and sobbed hysterically. Gradually, however, she yielded todissuasion, becoming more composed; and as the minister was in the actof leading her away her eyes sought the face of the dead beneath theglass. She threw up her arms and with a shriek fell backward insensible.The mourners sprang forward to the coffin, the friends followed,and as the clock on the mantel solemnly struck three all were staringdown upon the face of John Mortonson, deceased.They turned away, sick and faint. One man, trying in his terror toescape the awful sight, stumbled against the coffin so heavily as toknock away one of its frail supports. The coffin fell to the floor, theglass was shattered to bits by the concussion.From the opening crawled John Mortonson's cat, which lazily leaptto the floor, sat up, tranquilly wiped its crimson muzzle with aforepaw, then walked with dignity from the room.

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John Mortonson's Funeral was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Fri, Nov 08, 2013

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