Shakespeares Bones | Page 4

processes of the
tomb were found to have made greater advances than met the eye.
Hardly anything would bear removal, but fell to pieces at the first touch.
Search was made for plates with inscriptions, but even the metal plates
crumbled away on being fingered, and their inscriptions were utterly
effaced. Two plates only were found with legible characters, and these
were foreign to the purpose. Probably every one but the Burgermeister
looked on the matter as hopeless. They reascended the ladder and
closed the vault.
"Meanwhile these strange proceedings in the Kassengewolbe began to
be noised abroad. The churchyard was a thoroughfare, and many
passengers had observed that something unusual was going on. There
were persons living in Weimar whose near relatives lay in the Gewolbe;
and, though neither they nor the public at large had any objection to
offer to the general 'clearing out,' they did raise very strong objections
to this mode of anticipating it. So many pungent things began to be said
about violating the tomb, disturbing the repose of the departed, &c.,
that the Burgermeister perceived the necessity of going more warily to
work in future. He resolved to time his next visit at an hour when few
persons would be likely to cross the churchyard at that season.
Accordingly, two days later he returned to the Kassengewolbe at seven
in the morning, accompanied only by Coudray and the churchyard
officials.
"Their first task was to raise out of the vault altogether six coffins,
which it was found would bear removal. By various tokens it was
proved that none of these could be that of which they were in search.
There were several others which could not be removed, but which held
together so long as they were left where they lay. All the rest were in
the direst confusion. Two hours and a half were spent in subjecting the
ghastly heap to a thorough but fruitless search: not a trace of any kind

rewarded their trouble. Only one conclusion stared Schwabe and
Coudray in the face--their quest was in vain: the remains of Schiller
must be left to oblivion. Again the Gewolbe was closed, and those who
had disturbed its quiet returned disappointed to their homes. Yet, that
very afternoon, Schwabe went back once more in company with the
joiner who twenty years before had made the coffin: there was a chance
that he might recognise one of those which they had not ventured to
raise. But this glimmer of hope faded like all the rest. The man
remembered very well what sort of coffin he had made for the Hofrath
von Schiller, and he certainly saw nothing like it here. It had been of
the plainest sort, he believed without even a plate; and in such damp as
this it could have lasted but a few years.
"The fame of this second expedition got abroad like that of the first,
and the comments of the public were louder than before. Invectives of
no measured sort fell on the mayor in torrents. Not only did society in
general take offence, but a variety of persons in authority, particularly
ecclesiastical dignitaries, began to talk of interfering. Schwabe was
haunted by the idea of the 'clearing out,' which was now close at hand.
That dismal hole in the corner of the churchyard once closed and the
turf laid down, the dust of Schiller would be lost for ever. He
determined to proceed. His position of Burgermeister put the means in
his power, and this time he was resolved to keep his secret. To find the
skull was now his utmost hope, but for that he would make a final
struggle. The keys were still in the hands of Bielke the sexton, who, of
course, was under his control. He sent for him, bound him over to
silence, and ordered him to be at the churchyard at midnight on the
19th of March. In like manner, he summoned three day-labourers
whom he pledged to secrecy, and engaged to meet him at the same
place and at the same hour, but singly and without lanterns. Attention
should not be attracted if he could help it.
"When the night came, he himself, with a trusty servant, proceeded to
the entrance of the Kassengewolbe. The four men were already there.
In darkness they all entered, raised the trap-door, adjusted the ladder,
and descended to the abode of the dead. Not till then were lanterns
lighted; it was just possible that some late wanderer might, even at that

hour, cross the churchyard. Schwabe seated himself on a step of the
ladder and directed the workmen. Fragments of broken coffins they
piled up in one corner, and bones in another. Skulls as they were found
were placed in a heap by themselves. The work