MEMORIES OF THE DEAD. 151 



peal of the organ : — ^it is the silence of the tombs. There is 

 a perfume more exciting, more religious even than that of 

 incense; it is that of the honeysuckles which grow over 

 tombs upon which grass has sprung up thick and tufted with 

 them, as quickly as forgetfulness has taken possession of the 

 hearts of the survivors. 



In an evening, when the sun has set,-^when, alone in a 

 cemetery, we begin to shiver at the sound of our own steps, — 

 when we breathe this odour of the honeysuckle, it appears 

 that whilst the body is transformed, and become the flowers 

 which cover the tomb, the blue periwinkle (the violet of the 

 dead) and the honeysuckle, it seems as if the immortal soul 

 was escaping, exhaling in celestial perfume, and ascending 

 above the clouds. 



Many poets have spoken of the worms which devour the 

 dead. This is a horrible image, particularly horrible for those 

 who have consigned to the earth the remains of beloved 

 objects. This worm of the tomb has been invented by these 

 poets, and exists nowhere.but in their imaginations ; the bodies 

 of those we have loved are not exposed to this insult, this 

 profanation. Learned men — that is to say, really learned 

 and scientific men — will tell you that it is not true that cor- 

 ruption engenders worms; certain flies must have laid eggs 

 from which such worms could issue, and these flies have 

 not the power of penetrating into the earth below a certain 

 depth. 



Life is much changed since the day on which we have 

 deposited in the earth the body of a fondly-loved person. 

 How many things disturb you of which you had not even 

 dreamed ! It is an image that does not remain with you at 

 all times, but which arises before you all at once, at the most 

 unexpected moments, and which comes to freeze you in the 

 midst of pleasure or of festivity, which checks and dissipates 

 a smile which was about to play upon your lips. Nothing 

 more is required to evoke it, and make it appear, than a word 

 which was familiar to the dead, than a sound, than a voice, 

 than an air sung at a distance, and of which the wind brings 

 you a faint note or two ; — nothing more is required than the 

 sight or the odour of a flower, instantly to revive before you 

 that sad yet cherished image, and, as with a freshly sharpened 



