Death
Robert Chambers died on 17 March 1871 in St Andrews. He was buried in the Cathedral burial ground in the interior of the old Church of St. Regulus, according to his wishes.
A year after Robert's death, his brother William published a biography under the title Memoir of Robert Chambers; With Autobiographical Reminisces of William Chambers. However, the book did not reveal Robert's authorship of the Vestiges. Milton Millhauser, in his 1959 book Just Before Darwin, wrote the following about William's memoir: "The fraternal Memoir of Robert Chambers might have been an excellent biography had not the author been concerned to keep the Vestiges secret and one or two others. Despite the author's intelligence and sympathy, such omissions inevitably produced a distorted picture" (p. 191, note 7). The book contains some reminisces by Robert of his early life, with the rest of the narration filled in by William.
Alexander Ireland, in 1884, issued a 12th edition of Vestiges with Robert Chambers finally listed as the author and a preface giving an account of its authorship. Ireland felt that there was no longer any reason for concealing the author's name.
Read more about this topic: Robert Chambers (publisher Born 1802)
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“To die, to sleep—
No more, and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
“But, when nothing subsists from a distant past, after the death of others, after the destruction of objects, only the senses of smell and taste, weaker but more enduring, more intangible, more persistent, more faithful, continue for a long time, like souls, to remember, to wait, to hope, on the ruins of all the rest, to bring without flinching, on their nearly impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)
“Oh, you cold-blooded English. You’ll be the death of me.”
—Norman Reilly Raine (1895–1971)