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I came to be unhappy。  Pleasant incidents are woven with my memory 

of the place。  I here made friends with a plain old gentleman; a 

visitor on sunny mornings; gravely cheerful; who; with one eye upon 

the place that awaited him; chirped about his youth like winter 

sparrows; a beautiful housemaid of the hotel once; for some days 

together; dumbly flirted with me from a window and kept my wild 

heart flying; and once … she possibly remembers … the wise Eugenia 

followed me to that austere inclosure。  Her hair came down; and in 

the shelter of the tomb my trembling fingers helped her to repair 

the braid。  But for the most part I went there solitary and; with 

irrevocable emotion; pored on the names of the forgotten。  Name 

after name; and to each the conventional attributions and the idle 

dates: a regiment of the unknown that had been the joy of mothers; 

and had thrilled with the illusions of youth; and at last; in the 

dim sick…room; wrestled with the pangs of old mortality。  In that 

whole crew of the silenced there was but one of whom my fancy had 

received a picture; and he; with his comely; florid countenance; 

bewigged and habited in scarlet; and in his day combining fame and 

popularity; stood forth; like a taunt; among that company of 

phantom appellations。  It was then possible to leave behind us 

something more explicit than these severe; monotonous and lying 

epitaphs; and the thing left; the memory of a painted picture and 

what we call the immortality of a name; was hardly more desirable 

than mere oblivion。  Even David Hume; as he lay composed beneath 

that 〃circular idea;〃 was fainter than a dream; and when the 

housemaid; broom in hand; smiled and beckoned from the open window; 

the fame of that bewigged philosopher melted like a raindrop in the 

sea。



And yet in soberness I cared as little for the housemaid as for 

David Hume。  The interests of youth are rarely frank; his passions; 

like Noah's dove; come home to roost。  The fire; sensibility; and 

volume of his own nature; that is all that he has learned to 

recognise。  The tumultuary and gray tide of life; the empire of 

routine; the unrejoicing faces of his elders; fill him with 

contemptuous surprise; there also he seems to walk among the tombs 

of spirits; and it is only in the course of years; and after much 

rubbing with his fellow…men; that he begins by glimpses to see 

himself from without and his fellows from within: to know his own 

for one among the thousand undenoted countenances of the city 

street; and to divine in others the throb of human agony and hope。  

In the meantime he will avoid the hospital doors; the pale faces; 

the cripple; the sweet whiff of chloroform … for there; on the most 

thoughtless; the pains of others are burned home; but he will 

continue to walk; in a divine self…pity; the aisles of the 

forgotten graveyard。  The length of man's life; which is endless to 

the brave and busy; is scorned by his ambitious thought。  He cannot 

bear to have come for so little; and to go again so wholly。  He 

cannot bear; above all; in that brief scene; to be still idle; and 

by way of cure; neglects the little that he has to do。  The parable 

of the talent is the brief epitome of youth。  To believe in 

immortality is one thing; but it is first needful to believe in 

life。  Denunciatory preachers seem not to suspect that they may be 

taken gravely and in evil part; that young men may come to think of 

time as of a moment; and with the pride of Satan wave back the 

inadequate gift。  Yet here is a true peril; this it is that sets 

them to pace the graveyard alleys and to read; with strange 

extremes of pity and derision; the memorials of the dead。



Books were the proper remedy: books of vivid human import; forcing 

upon their minds the issues; pleasures; busyness; importance and 

immediacy of that life in which they stand; books of smiling or 

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。  


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