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as one goes on。 One cannot make the best of such impossibilities；
and the question is doubly fatuous until we are told which of our
two livesthe conscious or the unconsciousis held by the asker to
be the truer life。 Which does the question contemplatethe life we
know； or the life which others may know； but which we know not？
Death gives a life to some men and women compared with which their
so…called existence here is as nothing。 Which is the truer life of
Shakespeare； Handel； that divine woman who wrote the 〃Odyssey；〃 and
of Jane Austenthe life which palpitated with sensible warm motion
within their own bodies； or that in virtue of which they are still
palpitating in ours？ In whose consciousness does their truest life
consisttheir own； or ours？ Can Shakespeare be said to have begun
his true life till a hundred years or so after he was dead and
buried？ His physical life was but as an embryonic stage； a coming
up out of darkness； a twilight and dawn before the sunrise of that
life of the world to come which he was to enjoy hereafter。 We all
live for a while after we are gone hence； but we are for the most
part stillborn； or at any rate die in infancy； as regards that life
which every age and country has recognised as higher and truer than
the one of which we are now sentient。 As the life of the race is
larger； longer； and in all respects more to be considered than that
of the individual； so is the life we live in others larger and more
important than the one we live in ourselves。 This appears nowhere
perhaps more plainly than in the case of great teachers； who often
in the lives of their pupils produce an effect that reaches far
beyond anything produced while their single lives were yet
unsupplemented by those other lives into which they infused their
own。
Death to such people is the ending of a short life； but it does not
touch the life they are already living in those whom they have
taught； and happily； as none can know when he shall die； so none can
make sure that he too shall not live long beyond the grave； for the
life after death is like money before itno one can be sure that it
may not fall to him or her even at the eleventh hour。 Money and
immortality come in such odd unaccountable ways that no one is cut
off from hope。 We may not have made either of them for ourselves；
but yet another may give them to us in virtue of his or her love；
which shall illumine us for ever； and establish us in some heavenly
mansion whereof we neither dreamed nor shall ever dream。 Look at
the Doge Loredano Loredani； the old man's smile upon whose face has
been reproduced so faithfully in so many lands that it can never
henceforth be forgottenwould he have had one hundredth part of the
life he now lives had he not been linked awhile with one of those
heaven…sent men who know che cosa e amor？ Look at Rembrandt's old
woman in our National Gallery； had she died before she was eighty…
three years old she would not have been living now。 Then； when she
was eighty…three； immortality perched upon her as a bird on a
withered bough。
I seem to hear some one say that this is a mockery； a piece of
special pleading； a giving of stones to those that ask for bread。
Life is not life unless we can feel it； and a life limited to a
knowledge of such fraction of our work as may happen to survive us
is no true life in other people； salve it as we may； death is not
life any more than black is white。
The objection is not so true as it sounds。 I do not deny that we
had rather not die； nor do I pretend that much even in the case of
the most favoured few can survive them beyond the grave。 It is only
because this is so that our own life is possible； others have made
room for us； and we should make room for others in our turn without
undue repining。 What I maintain is that a not inconsiderable number
of people do actually attain to a life beyond the grave which we can
all feel forcibly enough； whether they can do so or notthat this
life tends with increasing civilisation to become more and more
potent； and that it is better worth considering； in spite of its
being unfelt by ourselves； than any which we have felt or can ever
feel in our own persons。
Take an extreme case。 A group of people are photographed by
Edison's new processsay Titiens； Trebelli； and Jenny Lind； with
any two of the finest men singers the age has knownlet them be
photographed incessantly for half an hour while they perform a scene
in 〃Lohengrin〃； let all be done stereoscopically。 Let them be
phonographed at the same time so that their minutest shades of
intonation are preserved； let the slides be coloured by a competent
artist； and then let the scene be called suddenly into sight and
sound； say a hundred years hence。 Are those people dead or alive？
Dead to themselves they are； but while they live so powerfully and
so livingly in us； which is the greater paradoxto say that they
are alive or that they are dead？ To myself it seems that their life
in others would be more truly life than their death to themselves is
death。 Granted that they do not present all the phenomena of life
who ever does so even when he is held to be alive？ We are held to
be alive because we present a sufficient number of living phenomena
to let the others go without saying； those who see us take the part
for the whole here as in everything else； and surely； in the case
supposed above； the phenomena of life predominate so powerfully over
those of death； that the people themselves must be held to be more
alive than dead。 Our living personality is； as the word implies；
only our mask； and those who still own such a mask as I have
supposed have a living personality。 Granted again that the case
just put is an extreme one； still many a man and many a woman has so
stamped him or herself on his work that； though we would gladly have
the aid of such accessories as we doubtless presently shall have to
the livingness of our great dead； we can see them very sufficiently
through the master pieces they have left us。
As for their own unconsciousness I do not deny it。 The life of the
embryo was unconscious before birth； and so is the lifeI am
speaking only of the life revealed to us by natural religionafter
death。 But as the embryonic and infant life of which we were
unconscious was the most potent factor in our after life of
consciousness； so the effect which we may unconsciously produce in
others after death； and it may be even before it on those who have
never seen us； is in all sober seriousness our truer and more
abiding life； and the one which those who would make the best of
their sojourn here will take most into their consideration。
Unconsciousness is no bar to livingness。 Our conscious actions are
a drop in the sea as compared with our unconscious ones。 Could we
know all the life that is in us by way of circulation； nutrition；
breathing； waste and repair； we should learn what an infinitesimally
small part consciousness plays in our present existence； yet our
unconscious life is as truly life as our conscious life； and though
it is unconscious to itself it emerges into an indirect and
vicarious c