Bids Fame be mute, and the great globe be still!
W.R.V.
SUICIDE.
"Die, and increase the demand for coffins!"
Motto of Undertakers' Mystery. Free translation.
A certain philosopher once said, with a degree of truth that proved the strength of his own head and the weakness of the human nature he was anatomizing, that "many men could easily bring themselves to practise those things they would in nowise permit to be preached to them." He saw the line of distinction between virtue in thought and virtue in action,—the ease with which we could have the former, the difficulty of possessing in practice the latter; he knew how easy it is to be good when and where there is no temptation to the contrary; he knew the proneness of people thus luckily located on the top of Fortune's wheel, to inquire with seeming wonder wherefore they who were being pulverized beneath the bottom of the same,—the pulverization being no jot the pleasanter from the obvious fact of the inquirer's weight being on the top,—why the discontented fellows presumed to be so uncomfortable, when their superiors made so many inquiries after their well-being; he knew that the top wheelmen were but too apt to argue about the fellows below as if they were of themselves, and to conclude that it was as wicked a thing for a man to steal a penny loaf when starving, as for an alderman to do the same thing, whose well-turtled stomach would bring the robbery into an act of wanton appropriation, only to be explained by his superabundant organ of acquisitiveness. In short, respectable reader, he knew what we all know, after he has made it clear, that the degree in which we practise what we will not permit to be preached to us, is proof of human weakness, and measure of the want of health in our personal morals. It is a confession of our inability to act up to our conception of virtue; and the cherishing the theory of good without making the practice follow after, is a postponement of active virtue sine die. Or if we beat away that pertinacious dun, conscience, by saying, "Ah! never mind, I'll start with bran-new morals next year," it is only like moving that a bill be read this day six months,—a humane method of knocking the measure on the head without the unfeeling necessity of saying in so many words that knocking is to be its entertainment.
Now, if I were to say,—which I feel very much disposed to do,—that cutting one's own throat (where there are no kindred feelings to be cut)—"that cutting one's own throat in this case was a very proper thing,—where a man likes it," I should at once have a cloud of the schoolmen upon me, each with the weapons his master of the ordnance, Paley, has supplied to him, proving, until breath, temper, and text were exhausted, that I am a presumptuous puppy in imagining for one moment that I have any property at all in my own throat, which is given to me for the good of society, and not to be cut by and for me, and my proper satisfaction. This would be the language of these "top wheelmen,"—fellows who are far too comfortable not to wish to be as immortal as a corporation, and who therefore doubt my sanity in not being as jolly as themselves,—like the young princess to her miserable little subject, "What is the matter with you?—how can you cry? I am very happy?" "Live," says the archdeacon, as he wipes his mulligatawnied mouth with his napkin;—"live," cries he to the lank-cheeked fellow who has been fished out of the river against his will, whither he had gone to stop the disagreeable function of breathing on a scanty supply of bread;—"live," cries the archdeacon,—"life you cannot give, life you cannot take. You are placed in this world to run your course; you must run it accordingly. How soon it may require your aid, you do not know; at any rate, when it is fit you should retire hence, you will be called hence; rush not uncalled-for, into the other world. I am sorry for you; here is half-a-crown; and, John," turning to the footman, who has been picking the crumbs of morality falling from the rich man's mouth, "John, show this poor man out." The poor man, with a sad aspect and a slow pace, crawls toward the door; and looks as if, did not deferential modesty restrain him, he would reply to the good archdeacon in these words. As the old man has seen them, and owned, with wonder at our penetration, that they correctly exhibit the thoughts at that time passing through his brain, we at once put the reader in possession. "Live, my dear sir! I am quite willing to do so; it is what I have been in vain struggling to do. Live! Have not the slightest objection; but then I must live; you, your honour, have said you could not afford to keep a conscience, although you doubtless think it a very good thing among people who can afford to do so; indeed I know well your writings venerate many things your acts do not, for want of this article you cannot afford to keep. So my abstract admission must be given to all arguments against suicide in the main, reserving a particular conclusion for myself, viz. that to attempt to live without money is quite as bad as cutting off my legs, in order to pit myself in a walking-match against Mr. Coates. I shudder, Mr. Paley, as deeply as yourself at the general idea of suicide; but, in reference to particular cases, it's all a matter of cash. You cannot afford to keep a conscience, another man cannot afford to keep a mistress, a third finds the keeping himself beyond the capacity of his exchequer: the first denies himself the luxury of a conscience for the present, the second puts his lady quietly away, the third puts himself in a pond quietly and comfortably." The would-be suicide was quite right: as the profound estimator of political tactics some time back remarked, in reference to the gladiatorial exercises of the factions of the day, "it's all a matter of 'wittals:'" necessity compels us to do what principle will not hear preached by others; so that I almost despair of miseries great as mine making out a claim for mortality, and apprehend that only a few very sensible people will say at the end of my paper, "There, go, my good fellow, and hang yourself, as soon as you can beg, borrow, or steal a sufficient bit of cord for that laudable purpose."
Yet if there be one moral truth clearer, stronger, and less assailable than another, it is that, in some circumstances, "self-murder" is the most virtuous act a man can perform. A burthen to himself, an annoyance to the world, no relatives or connexions to regret his loss, may not an intentional stopping of the breathing function be the best act he can commit for all sides? The utilitarian will say "Yes," among whom we rank the Paleyites, all of whom were and are utilitarians; the old-fashioned addlepates will shake their heads, take snuff, and finally declare that a good deal may be said on both sides.
The above useful reflections, as well as those that immediately follow, had their origin on the third step above high-water mark of Waterloo Bridge.