Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. […]
No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up now, what would be his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard-dealing, griping cares? They have brought him to a rich end, truly!
He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the memory of one kind word I will be kind to him. (4.81-83)
Is this fear of not being remembered in death the strongest fear in the novella? Is this because Scrooge has left nothing in the world that would allow his memory to live on at least in some way? No children, no memorable deeds, no friends—bupkis. If he disappears, all that would be left would be his firm, which would simply pass on to another businessperson.