Non-Fiction > Uncollected essays > Volumes 33-38, 1876-1878 - Cornhill magazine > Volume 37

432
gies ^riplw".
The changes wrought by death are in themselves so sharp and final, and
so terrible and melancholy in their consequences, that the tiling stands
alone in man's experience, and has no parallel upon earth. It outdoes
all other accidents because it is the last of them. Sometimes it leaps
siiddenly nj)on its victims, like a Thug ; sometimes it lays a regular
siege and creeps upon tlieir citadel during a score of years. And when
the business is done, there is sore havoc made in other people's lives,
and a pin knocked out by which many subsidiary friendships hung
together. There are empty chairs, solitary walks and single beds at
night. Again, in taking away our friends, death does not take them
away utterly, but leaves behind a mocking, ti-agical, and soon intolei-able
residue, which must be hurriedly concealed. Hence a whole chapter of
sights and customs striking to the mind, from the pyramids of Egypt
to the gibbets and dule- trees of mediaeval Europe. The poorest persons
have a bit of pageant going towards the tomb ; memorial stones are set
up over the least memorable ; and, in order to preserve some show of
respect for what remains of our old loves and friendships, we must ac-
company it v.dth much grimly ludicrous ceremonial, and the hired
undertaker parades before the door. All this, and much more of the
same sort, accompanied by the eloquence of poets, has gone a great way
to put humanity in error; nay, in many philosophies the error has been
embodied and laid down with every circumstance of logic ; although in
real life the bustle and swiftness, in leaving people little time to think,
have not left them time enough to go dangerously wrong in practice.
As a matter of fact, although few things are spoken of with more
fearful whisperings than this prospect of death, few have less influence
on conduct under healthy circumstances. Wc have all heard of cities
in South America built upon the side of fiery mountains, and how, even
in this tremendous neighbourhood, the inhabitants are not a jot more
impressed by the solemnity of mortal conditions than if they were delv-
ing gardens in the greenest corner of England. There are serenades
and suppers and much gallantry among the myrtles overhead ; and
meanwhile the foundation shudders imderfoot, the bowels of the mountain
growl, and at any moment living ruin may leap skyhigh into the
moonlight, and tumble man and his merry-making in the dust. In the
eyes of very young people, and very dull old ones, there is something in-
describably reckless and desperate in such a picture. It seems not
credible that respectable mariied people, with umbrellas, should find
a])petite for a bit of supper within quite a long distance of a fiery moun-