memories and portraits-第5章

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heroic　temper；　to　excite　or　to　console；　books　of　a　large　design；　

shadowing　the　complexity　of　that　game　of　consequences　to　which　we　

all　sit　down；　the　hanger…back　not　least。　　But　the　average　sermon　

flees　the　point；　disporting　itself　in　that　eternity　of　which　we　

know；　and　need　to　know；　so　little；　avoiding　the　bright；　crowded；　

and　momentous　fields　of　life　where　destiny　awaits　us。　　Upon　the　

average　book　a　writer　may　be　silent；　he　may　set　it　down　to　his　ill…

hap　that　when　his　own　youth　was　in　the　acrid　fermentation；　he　

should　have　fallen　and　fed　upon　the　cheerless　fields　of　Obermann。　　

Yet　to　Mr。　Arnold；　who　led　him　to　these　pastures；　he　still　bears　a　

grudge。　　The　day　is　perhaps　not　far　oft　when　people　will　begin　to　

count　MOLL　FLANDERS；　ay；　or　THE　COUNTRY　WIFE；　more　wholesome　and　

more　pious　diet　than　these　guide…books　to　consistent　egoism。



But　the　most　inhuman　of　boys　soon　wearies　of　the　inhumanity　of　

Obermann。　　And　even　while　I　still　continued　to　be　a　haunter　of　the　

graveyard；　I　began　insensibly　to　turn　my　attention　to　the　grave…

diggers；　and　was　weaned　out　of　myself　to　observe　the　conduct　of　

visitors。　　This　was　dayspring；　indeed；　to　a　lad　in　such　great　

darkness。　　Not　that　I　began　to　see　men；　or　to　try　to　see　them；　from　

within；　nor　to　learn　charity　and　modesty　and　justice　from　the　

sight；　but　still　stared　at　them　externally　from　the　prison　windows　

of　my　affectation。　　Once　I　remember　to　have　observed　two　working…

women　with　a　baby　halting　by　a　grave；　there　was　something　

monumental　in　the　grouping；　one　upright　carrying　the　child；　the　

other　with　bowed　face　crouching　by　her　side。　　A　wreath　of　

immortelles　under　a　glass　dome　had　thus　attracted　them；　and；　

drawing　near；　I　overheard　their　judgment　on　that　wonder。　　〃Eh！　what　

extravagance！〃



To　a　youth　afflicted　with　the　callosity　of　sentiment；　this　quaint　

and　pregnant　saying　appeared　merely　base。



My　acquaintance　with　grave…diggers；　considering　its　length；　was　

unremarkable。　　One；　indeed；　whom　I　found　plying　his　spade　in　the　

red　evening；　high　above　Allan　Water　and　in　the　shadow　of　Dunblane　

Cathedral；　told　me　of　his　acquaintance　with　the　birds　that　still　

attended　on　his　labours；　how　some　would　even　perch　about　him；　

waiting　for　their　prey；　and　in　a　true　Sexton's　Calendar；　how　the　

species　varied　with　the　season　of　the　year。　　But　this　was　the　very　

poetry　of　the　profession。　　The　others　whom　I　knew　were　somewhat　

dry。　　A　faint　flavour　of　the　gardener　hung　about　them；　but　

sophisticated　and　dis…bloomed。　　They　had　engagements　to　keep；　not　

alone　with　the　deliberate　series　of　the　seasons；　but　with　man…

kind's　clocks　and　hour…long　measurement　of　time。　　And　thus　there　

was　no　leisure　for　the　relishing　pinch；　or　the　hour…long　gossip；　

foot　on　spade。　　They　were　men　wrapped　up　in　their　grim　business；　

they　liked　well　to　open　long…closed　family　vaults；　blowing　in　the　

key　and　throwing　wide　the　grating；　and　they　carried　in　their　minds　

a　calendar　of　names　and　dates。　　It　would　be　〃in　fifty…twa〃　that　

such　a　tomb　was　last　opened　for　〃Miss　Jemimy。〃　　It　was　thus　they　

spoke　of　their　past　patients　…familiarly　but　not　without　respect；　

like　old　family　servants。　　Here　is　indeed　a　servant；　whom　we　forget　

that　we　possess；　who　does　not　wait　at　the　bright　table；　or　run　at　

the　bell's　summons；　but　patiently　smokes　his　pipe　beside　the　

mortuary　fire；　and　in　his　faithful　memory　notches　the　burials　of　

our　race。　　To　suspect　Shakespeare　in　his　maturity　of　a　superficial　

touch　savours　of　paradox；　yet　he　was　surely　in　error　when　he　

attributed　insensibility　to　the　digger　of　the　grave。　　But　perhaps　

it　is　on　Hamlet　that　the　charge　should　lie；　or　perhaps　the　English　

sexton　differs　from　the　Scotch。　　The　〃goodman　delver；〃　reckoning　up　

his　years　of　office；　might　have　at　least　suggested　other　thoughts。　　

It　is　a　pride　common　among　sextons。　　A　cabinet…maker　does　not　count　

his　cabinets；　nor　even　an　author　his　volumes；　save　when　they　stare　

upon　him　from　the　shelves；　but　the　grave…digger　numbers　his　graves。　　

He　would　indeed　be　something　different　from　human　if　his　solitary　

open…air　and　tragic　labours　left　not　a　broad　mark　upon　his　mind。　　

There；　in　his　tranquil　aisle；　apart　from　city　clamour；　among　the　

cats　and　robins　and　the　ancient　effigies　and　legends　of　the　tomb；　

he　waits　the　continual　passage　of　his　contemporaries；　falling　like　

minute　drops　into　eternity。　　As　they　fall；　he　counts　them；　and　this　

enumeration；　which　was　at　first　perhaps　appalling　to　his　soul；　in　

the　process　of　years　and　by　the　kindly　influence　of　habit　grows　to　

be　his　pride　and　pleasure。　　There　are　many　common　stories　telling　

how　he　piques　himself　on　crowded　cemeteries。　　But　I　will　rather　

tell　of　the　old　grave…digger　of　Monkton；　to　whose　unsuffering　

bedside　the　minister　was　summoned。　　He　dwelt　in　a　cottage　built　

into　the　wall　of　the　church…yard；　and　through　a　bull's…eye　pane　

above　his　bed　he　could　see；　as　he　lay　dying；　the　rank　grasses　and　

the　upright　and　recumbent　stones。　　Dr。　Laurie　was；　I　think；　a　

Moderate：　'tis　certain；　at　least；　that　he　took　a　very　Roman　view　of　

deathbed　dispositions；　for　he　told　the　old　man　that　he　had　lived　

beyond　man's　natural　years；　that　his　life　had　been　easy　and　

reputable；　that　his　family　had　all　grown　up　and　been　a　credit　to　

his　care；　and　that　it　now　behoved　him　unregretfully　to　gird　his　

loins　and　follow　the　majority。　　The　grave…digger　heard　him　out；　

then　he　raised　himself　upon　one　elbow；　and　with　the　other　hand　

pointed　through　the　window　to　the　scene　of　his　life…long　labours。　　

〃Doctor；〃　he　said；　〃I　ha'e　laid　three　hunner　and　fower…score　in　

that　kirkyaird；　an　it　had　been　His　wull；〃　indicating　Heaven；　〃I　

would　ha'e　likit　weel　to　ha'e　made　out　the　fower　hunner。〃　　But　it　

was　not　to　be；　this　tragedian　of　the　fifth　act　had　now　another　part　

to　play；　and　the　time　had　come　when　others　were　to　gird　and　carry　

him。





II





I　would　fain　strike　a　note　that　should　be　more　heroical；　but　the　

ground　of　all　youth's　suffering；　solitude；　hysteria；　and　haunting　

of　the　grave；　is　nothing　else　than　naked；　ignorant　selfishness。　　It　

is　himself　that　he　sees　dead；　those　are　his　virtues　that　are　

forgotten；　his　is　the　vague　epitaph。　　Pity　him　but　the　more；　if　

pity　be　your　cue；　for　where　a　man　is　all　pride；　vanity；　and　

personal　aspiration；　he　goes　through　fire　unshielded。　　In　every　

part　and　corner　of　our　life；　to　lose　oneself　is　to　be　gainer；　to　

forget　oneself　is　to　be　happy；　and　this　poor；　laughable　and　tragic　

fool　has　not　yet　learned　the　rudiments；　himself；　giant　Prometheus；　

is　still　ironed　on　the　peaks　of　Caucasus。　　But　by…and…by　his　truant　

interests　will　leave　that　tortured　body；　slip　abroad　and　gather　

flowers。　　Then　shall　death　appear　before　him　in　an　altered　guise；　

no　longer　as　a　doom　peculiar　to　himself；　whether　fate's　crowning　

injustice　or　his　own　last　vengeance　upon　those　who　fail　to　value　

him；　but　now　as　a　power　that　wounds　him　far　more　tenderly；　not　

without　solemn　compensations；　taking　and　giving；　bereaving　and　yet　

storing　up。



The　first　step　for　all　is　to　learn　to　the　dregs　our　own　ignoble　

fallibility。　　When　we　have　fallen　through　storey　after　storey　of　

our　vanity　and　aspiration；　and　sit　rueful　among　the　ruins；　then　it　

is　that　we　begin　to　measure　the　stature　of　our　friends：　how　they　

stand　between　us　and　our　own　contempt；　believing　in　our　best；　how；　

linking　us　with　others；　and　still　spreading　wide　the　influential　

circle；　they　weave　us　in　and　in　with　the　fabric　of　contemporary　

life；　and　to　what　petty　size　they　dwarf　the　virtues　and　the　vices　

that　appeared　gigantic　in　our　youth。　　So　that　at　the　last；　when　

such　a　pin　falls　out　…　when　there　vanishes　in　the　least　breath　of　

time　one　of　those　rich　magazines　of　life　on　which　we　drew　for　our　

supply　…　when　he　who　had　first　dawned　upon　us　as　a　face　among　the　

faces　of　the　city；　and；　still　growing；　came　to　bulk　on　our　regard　

with　those　clear　features　of　the　loved　and　living　man；　falls　in　a　

breath　to　memory　and　shadow；　there　falls　along　with　him　a　whole　

wing　of　the　palace　of　our　life。





III





One　such　face　I　now　remember；　one　such　blank　some　half…a…dozen　of　

us　labour　to　dissemble。　　In　his　youth　he　was　most　beautiful　in　

person；　most　serene　and　genial　by　disposition；　full　of　racy　words　

and　quaint　thoughts。　　Laughter　attended　on　his　coming。　　He　had　the　

air　of　a　great　gentleman；　jovial　and　royal　with　his　equals；　and　to　

the　poorest　student　gentle　and　attentive。　　Power　seemed　to　reside　

in　him　exhaustless；　we　saw　him　stoop　to　play　with　us；　but　held　him　

marked　for　higher　destinies；　we　loved　his　notice；　and　I　have　rarely　

had　my　pride　more　gratified　than　when　he　sat　at　my　father's　table；　

my　acknowledged　friend。　　So　he　walked　among　us；　both　hands　full　of　

gifts；　carrying　with　nonchalance　the　seeds　of　a　most　influential　

life。



The　powers　and　the　ground　of　friendship　is　a　mystery；　but；　looking　

back；　I　can　discern　that；　in　part；　we　loved　the　thing　he　was；　for　

some　shadow　of　what　he　was　to　be。　　For　with　all　his　beauty；　power；　

breeding；　urbanity　and　mirth；　there　was　in　those　days　something　

soulless　in　our　friend。　　He　would　astonish　us　by　sallies；　witty；　

innocent　and　inhumane；　and　by　a　misapplied　Johnsonian　pleasantry；　

demolish　honest　sentiment。　　I　can　still　see　and　hear　him；　as　he　

went　his　way　along　the　lamplit　streets；　LA　CI　DAREM　LA　MANO　on　his　

lips；　a　noble　figure　of　a　youth；　but　following　vanity　and　

incredulous　of　good；　and　sure　enough；　somewhere　on　the　high　seas　of　

life；　with　his　health；　his　hopes；　his　patrimony　and　his　self…

respect；　miserably　went　down。



From　this　disaster；　like　a　spent　swimmer；　he　came　desperately　

ashore；　bankrupt　of　money　and　consideration；　creeping　to　the　family　

he　had　deserted；　with　broken　wing；　never　more　to　rise。　　But　in　his　

face　there　was　a　light　of　knowledge　that　was　new　to　it。　　Of　the　

wounds　of　his　body　he　was　never　healed；　died　of　them　gradually；　

with　clear…eyed　resignation；　of　his　wounded　pride；　we　knew　only　

from　his　silence。　　He　returned　to　that　city　where　he　had　lorded　it　

in　his　ambitious　youth；　lived　there　alone；　seeing　few；　striving　to　

retrieve　the　irretrievable；　at　times　still　grappling　with　that　

mortal　frailty　that　had　brought　him　down；　still　joying　in　his　

friend's　successes；　his　laugh　still　ready　but　with　kindlier　music；　

and　over　all　his　thoughts　the　shadow　of　that　unalterable　law　which　

he　had　disavowed　and　which　had　brought　him　low。　　Lastly；　when　his　

bodily　evils　had　quite　disabled　him；　he　lay　a　great　while　dying；　

still　without　complaint；　still　finding　interests；　to　his　last　step　

gentle；　urbane　and　with　the　will　to　smile。



The　tale　of　this　great　failure　is；　to　those　who　remained　true　to　

him；　the　tale　of　a　success。　　In　his　youth　he　took　thought　for　no　

one　but　himself；　when　he　came　ashore　again；　his　whole　armada　lost；　

he　seemed　to　think　of　n