[Note 25:  Pharaoh ...  Pyramid.  For Pharaoh’s experiences with the Israelites, see the book of Exodus.  Pharaoh was merely the name given by the children of Israel to the rulers of Egypt:  cf.  Caesar, Kaiser, etc. ...  The Egyptian pyramids were regarded as one of the seven wonders of ancient times, the great pyramid weighing over six million tons.  The pyramids were used for the tombs of monarchs.]

[Note 26:  Young men who work themselves into a decline. Compare the tone of the close of this essay with that of the conclusion of AEs Triplex.  Stevenson himself died in the midst of the most arduous work possible—­the making of a literary masterpiece.]

III

AES TRIPLEX[1]

The changes wrought by death are in themselves so sharp and final, and so terrible and melancholy in their consequences, that the thing 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 suddenly upon its victims, like a Thug;[2] sometimes it lays a regular siege and creeps upon their 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, tragical, and soon intolerable 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[3] 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 accompany it with 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.  We 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 delving gardens in the greenest corner of England.  There are serenades and suppers and much gallantry among the