It is a hard task to master the natural desire of life by a philosophical contempt of death, and to convince the world that there is no hurt in it, and crush an opinion that was brought up with us from our cradles. What help? what encouragement? what shall we say to human frailty, to carry it fearless through the fury of flames, and upon the points of swords? what rhetoric shall we use to bear down the universal consent of people to so dangerous an error? The captious and superfine subtleties of the schools will never do the work: these speak many things sharp, but utterly unnecessary, and void of effect. The truth of it is, there is but one chain that holds all the world in bondage, and that is the love of life. It is not that I propound the making of death so indifferent to us, as it is, whether a man’s hairs be even or odd; for what with self-love, and an implanted desire in every being of preserving itself, and a long acquaintance betwixt the soul and body, friends may be loth to part, and death may carry an appearance of evil, though in truth it is itself no evil at all. Beside, that we are to go to a strange place in the dark, and under great uncertainties of our future state; so that people die in terror, because they do not know whither they are to go, and they are apt to fancy the worst of what they do not understand: these thoughts are indeed sufficient to startle a man of great resolution without a wonderful support from above. And, moreover, our natural scruples and infirmities are assisted by the wits and fancies of all ages, in their infamous and horrid description of another world: nay, taking it for granted that there will be no reward and punishment, they are yet more afraid of an annihilation than of hell itself.
It's incredibly difficult to overcome our natural desire to live through philosophical acceptance of death. How can we convince the world that death isn't harmful and destroy a belief we've held since birth? What help can we offer? What encouragement? What can we say to human weakness to help it face flames and sword points without fear? What arguments can overcome everyone's agreement on such a dangerous mistake? The clever but overly complex ideas from academic schools will never work. They say many sharp things, but they're completely unnecessary and have no real effect. The truth is, only one chain holds the entire world in bondage: the love of life. I'm not suggesting we should make death as meaningless to us as whether someone has an even or odd number of hairs. Because of self-love and the natural desire every being has to preserve itself, and because of the long friendship between soul and body, friends may be reluctant to part. Death may seem evil, though in truth it isn't evil at all. Besides, we're going to a strange place in the dark, facing great uncertainty about our future state. So people die in terror because they don't know where they're going, and they tend to imagine the worst about what they don't understand. These thoughts are enough to frighten even someone with great courage, without wonderful support from above. Our natural doubts and weaknesses are made worse by the clever writers of all ages, with their terrible and horrifying descriptions of the afterlife. Even assuming there will be no reward and punishment, people are still more afraid of complete annihilation than of hell itself.
But what is it we fear? “Oh! it is a terrible thing to die.” Well; and is it not better once to suffer it, than always to fear it? The earth itself suffers both with me, and before me. How many islands are swallowed up in the sea! how many towns do we sail over! nay, how many nations are wholly lost, either by inundations or earthquakes! and shall I be afraid of my little body? why should I, that am sure to die, and that all other things are mortal, be fearful of coming to my last gasp myself? It is the fear of death that makes us base, and troubles and destroys the life we would preserve; that aggravates all circumstances, and makes them formidable. We depend but upon a flying moment. Die we must; but when? what is that to us? It is the law of Nature, the tribute of mortals, and the remedy of all evils. It is only the disguise that affrights us; as children that are terrified with a vizor. Take away the instruments of death, the fire, the ax, the guards, the executioners, the whips, and the racks; take away the pomp, I say, and the circumstances that accompany it, and death is no more than what my slave yesterday contemned; the pain is nothing to a fit of the stone; if it be tolerable, it is not great; and if intolerable, it cannot last long. There is nothing that Nature has made necessary which is more easy than death: we are longer a-coming into the world than going out of it; and there is not any minute of our lives wherein we may not reasonably expect it. Nay, it is but a moment’s work, the parting of the soul and body. What a shame is it then to stand in fear of anything so long that is over so soon!
But what do we actually fear? "Oh! It's terrible to die." Well, isn't it better to suffer death once than to always fear it? The earth itself suffers with me and before me. How many islands have been swallowed by the sea! How many towns do we sail over! How many entire nations have been lost to floods or earthquakes! Should I be afraid of my little body? Why should I, who am certain to die, and who knows all other things are mortal, fear my own last breath? It's the fear of death that makes us cowardly. It troubles and destroys the very life we want to preserve. It makes every situation worse and more frightening. We depend on just a fleeting moment. We must die, but when? What does that matter to us? It's the law of nature, the price of being mortal, and the cure for all troubles. It's only death's disguise that frightens us, like children scared by a mask. Take away the tools of death—the fire, the ax, the guards, the executioners, the whips, and the torture devices. Take away the ceremony and circumstances that go with it, and death is no more than what my slave scorned yesterday. The pain is nothing compared to kidney stones. If it's bearable, it's not severe. If it's unbearable, it can't last long. Nothing that nature has made necessary is easier than death. We take longer coming into this world than leaving it. There's not a minute in our lives when we can't reasonably expect death. It's just a moment's work—the separation of soul and body. What a shame it is to spend so long fearing something that's over so quickly!
Nor is it any great matter to overcome this fear; for we have examples as well of the meanest of men as of the greatest that have done it. There was a fellow to be exposed upon the theatre, who in disdain thrust a stick down his own throat, and choked himself; and another on the same occasion, pretended to nod upon the chariot, as if he were asleep, cast his head betwixt the spokes of the wheel, and kept his seat until his neck was broken. Caligula, upon a dispute with Canius Julius; “Do not flatter yourself,” says he, “for I have given orders to put you to death.” “I thank your most gracious Majesty for it,” says Canius, giving to understand, perhaps, that under his government death was a mercy: for he knew that Caligula seldom failed of being as good as his word in that case. He was at play when the officer carried him away to his execution, and beckoning to the centurion, “Pray,” says he, “will you bear me witness, when I am dead and gone, that I had the better of the game?” He was a man exceedingly beloved and lamented, and, for a farewell, after he had preached moderation to his friends; “You,” says he, “are here disputing about the immortality of the soul, and I am now going to learn the truth of it. If I discover any thing upon that point, you shall hear of it.” Nay, the most timorous of creatures, when they see there is no escaping, they oppose themselves to all dangers; the despair gives them courage, and the necessity overcomes the fear. Socrates was thirty days in prison after his sentence, and had time enough to have starved himself, and so to have prevented the poison: but he gave the world the blessing of his life as long as he could, and took that fatal draught in the meditation and contempt of death.
It's not that hard to overcome this fear of death. We have examples of both ordinary people and great leaders who have done it. There was a man about to be put on display in the theater who, in disgust, shoved a stick down his own throat and choked himself. Another man in the same situation pretended to fall asleep on his chariot, stuck his head between the wheel spokes, and stayed in his seat until his neck broke. When Caligula had a dispute with Canius Julius, he said, "Don't fool yourself. I've ordered your execution." Canius replied, "I thank your most gracious Majesty for it." Perhaps he meant that under Caligula's rule, death was actually a mercy. He knew that Caligula rarely failed to keep his word about executions. Canius was playing a game when the officer came to take him to his death. He called to the centurion and said, "Please, will you testify after I'm dead that I was winning the game?" He was deeply loved and mourned by many. As a farewell, after urging his friends to be moderate, he told them, "You're here debating whether the soul is immortal, and I'm about to learn the truth. If I discover anything about it, you'll hear from me." Even the most fearful creatures, when they see there's no escape, will face any danger. Despair gives them courage, and necessity conquers fear. Socrates spent thirty days in prison after his sentence. He had enough time to starve himself and avoid the poison. But he gave the world the gift of his life as long as possible, and drank that fatal cup while meditating on death and scorning it.
Marcellinus, in a deliberation upon death, called several of his friends about him: one was fearful, and advised what he himself would have done in the case; another gave the counsel which he thought Marcellinus would like best; but a friend of his that was a Stoic, and a stout man, reasoned the matter to him after this manner; Marcellinus do not trouble yourself, as if it were such a mighty business that you have now in hand; it is nothing to live; all your servants do it, nay, your very beasts too; but to die honestly and resolutely, that is a great point. Consider with yourself there is nothing pleasant in life but what you have tasted already, and that which is to come is but the same over again; and how many men are there in the world that rather choose to die than to suffer the nauseous tediousness of the repetition? Upon which discourse he fasted himself to death. It was the custom of Pacuvius to solemnize, in a kind of pageantry, every day his own funeral. When he had swilled and gormandized to a luxurious and beastly excess, he was carried away from supper to bed with this song and acclamation, “He has lived, he has lived.” That which he did in lewdness, will become us to do in sobriety and prudence. If it shall please God to add another day to our lives, let us thankfully receive it; but, however, it is our happiest and securest course so to compose ourselves to-night, that we may have no anxious dependence on to-morrow. “He that can say, I have lived this day, makes the next clear again.”
Marcellinus was thinking about death and called several friends to discuss it with him. One friend was afraid and suggested what he himself would do. Another gave advice he thought Marcellinus would want to hear. But his Stoic friend, a brave man, spoke to him this way: "Marcellinus, don't worry about this as if it's such a big deal. Living is nothing special. All your servants do it, and even your animals. But dying with honor and courage—that's what matters. Think about it: there's nothing pleasant in life that you haven't already experienced. What's coming is just more of the same. How many people in the world would rather die than endure the boring repetition?" After hearing this, Marcellinus fasted himself to death. Pacuvius had a custom of celebrating his own funeral every day like a show. After he had eaten and drunk to excess, he was carried from dinner to bed while people sang and shouted, "He has lived, he has lived." What he did in his wild living, we should do with sobriety and wisdom. If God chooses to give us another day, let's receive it with gratitude. But our happiest and safest approach is to prepare ourselves tonight so we don't worry anxiously about tomorrow. "Anyone who can say 'I have lived this day' makes the next day bright again."
Death is the worst that either the severity of laws or the cruelty of tyrants can impose upon us; and it is the utmost extent of the dominion of Fortune. He that is fortified against that, must, consequently, be superior to all other difficulties that are put in the way to it. Nay, and on some occasions, it requires more courage to live than to die. He that is not prepared for death shall be perpetually troubled, as well with vain apprehensions, as with real dangers. It is not death itself that is dreadful, but the fear of it that goes before it. When the mind is under a consternation, there is no state of life that can please us; for we do not so endeavor to avoid mischiefs as to run away from them, and the greatest slaughter is upon a flying enemy. Had not a man better breathe out his last once for all, than lie agonizing in pains, consuming by inches, losing of his blood by drops? and yet how many are there that are ready to betray their country, and their friends, and to prostitute their very wives and daughters, to preserve a miserable carcass! Madmen and children have no apprehension of death; and it were a shame that our reason should not do as much toward our security as their folly. But the great matter is to die considerately and cheerfully upon the foundation of virtue; for life in itself is irksome, and only eating and drinking in a circle.
Death is the worst thing that harsh laws or cruel tyrants can do to us. It's the ultimate limit of what Fortune can control. If you're prepared for death, you'll naturally be stronger against all the other challenges that lead up to it. In fact, sometimes it takes more courage to live than to die. Anyone who isn't ready for death will be constantly worried, both by imaginary fears and real dangers. Death itself isn't what's frightening—it's the fear that comes before it. When your mind is panicked, no way of living can satisfy you. We don't try to avoid troubles so much as run away from them, and the worst casualties happen when an army is retreating. Wouldn't it be better to die once and be done with it, rather than lie there in agony, wasting away bit by bit, bleeding drop by drop? Yet how many people are willing to betray their country and friends, even sell out their wives and daughters, just to preserve their wretched bodies! Madmen and children don't fear death. It would be shameful if our reason couldn't give us as much peace as their ignorance does. The important thing is to die thoughtfully and cheerfully, grounded in virtue. Life by itself is tiresome—just eating and drinking in an endless cycle.
How many are there that, betwixt the apprehensions of death and the miseries of life, are at their wits’ end what to do with themselves? Wherefore let us fortify ourselves against those calamities from which the prince is no more exempt than the beggar. Pompey the Great had his head taken off by a boy and a eunuch, (young Ptolemy and Photinus.) Caligula commanded the tribune Dæcimus to kill Lepidus; and another tribune (Chæreus) did as much for Caligula. Never was a man so great but he was as liable to suffer mischief as he was able to do it. Has not a thief, or an enemy, your throat at his mercy? nay, and the meanest of servants has the power of life and death over his master; for whosoever contemns his own life may be master of another body’s. You will find in story, that the displeasure of servants has been as fatal as that of tyrants: and what matters it the power of him we fear, when the thing we fear is in every body’s power? Suppose I fall into the hands of an enemy, and the conqueror condemns me to be led in triumph; it is but carrying me thither whither I should have gone without him, that is to say, toward death, whither I have been marching ever since I was born. It is the fear of our last hour that disquiets all the rest. By the justice of all constitutions, mankind is condemned to a capital punishment; now, how despicable would that man appear, who, being sentenced to death in common with the whole world, should only petition that he might be the last man brought to the block?
How many people find themselves caught between the fear of death and the miseries of life, not knowing what to do with themselves? We should prepare ourselves against disasters that strike princes and beggars alike. Pompey the Great had his head cut off by a boy and a eunuch, young Ptolemy and Photinus. Caligula ordered the tribune Dæcimus to kill Lepidus. Another tribune, Chæreus, did the same to Caligula. No man was ever so powerful that he wasn't as likely to suffer harm as he was able to cause it. Doesn't a thief or enemy have your throat at his mercy? Even the lowest servant has power over his master's life and death. Anyone who doesn't care about his own life can control another person's body. History shows us that angry servants have been just as deadly as tyrants. What does it matter how powerful the person we fear is, when the thing we fear is within everyone's power? Suppose I fall into enemy hands and the conqueror sentences me to be paraded in his triumph. He's only taking me where I would have gone anyway, toward death, the destination I've been heading toward since I was born. Fear of our final hour disturbs all our other hours. By the justice of all laws, mankind is sentenced to death. How pathetic would a man be who, condemned to die along with the whole world, only asked to be the last one brought to the executioner's block?
Some men are particularly afraid of thunder, and yet extremely careless of other and of greater dangers: as if that were all they have to fear. Will not a sword, a stone, a fever, do the work as well? Suppose the bolt should hit us, it were yet braver to die with a stroke than with the bare apprehension of it: beside the vanity of imagining that heaven and earth should be put into such a disorder only for the death of one man. A good and a brave man is not moved with lightning, tempest, or earthquakes; but perhaps he would voluntarily plunge himself into that gulf, where otherwise he should only fall. The cutting of a corn, or the swallowing of a fly, is enough to dispatch a man; and it is no matter how great that is that brings me to my death, so long as death itself is but little. Life is a small matter; but it is a matter of importance to contemn it. Nature, that begat us, expels us, and a better and a safer place is provided for us. And what is death but a ceasing to be what we were before? We are kindled and put out: to cease to be, and not to begin to be, is the same thing. We die daily, and while we are growing, our life decreases; every moment that passes takes away part of it; all that is past is lost; nay, we divide with death the very instant that we live. As the last sand in the glass does not measure the hour, but finishes it; so the last moment that we live does not make up death, but concludes. There are some that pray more earnestly for death than we do for life; but it is better to receive it cheerfully when it comes than to hasten it before the time.
Some people are terrified of thunder, yet they're completely careless about other, greater dangers. They act as if thunder is the only thing they need to fear. But won't a sword, a stone, or a fever kill you just as well? Even if lightning did strike us, it would be braver to die from the actual blow than from just being afraid of it. Besides, it's foolish to imagine that heaven and earth would fall into chaos just to kill one person. A good and brave person isn't shaken by lightning, storms, or earthquakes. In fact, he might willingly throw himself into the very danger that would otherwise just happen to him. Something as small as cutting a corn on your foot or swallowing a fly can kill a person. It doesn't matter how big or small the thing is that brings death, as long as death itself is nothing to fear. Life is a small thing, but it's important to look down on it with contempt. Nature brought us into being, and nature pushes us out. A better and safer place waits for us. What is death except stopping being what we were before? We're lit like a candle and then snuffed out. To stop existing and never to have started existing are the same thing. We die a little every day. While we're growing, our life gets shorter. Every moment that passes takes away part of it. Everything in the past is lost. We actually share each moment we're alive with death itself. The last grain of sand in an hourglass doesn't measure the hour, it finishes it. In the same way, our last moment of life doesn't create death, it completes it. Some people pray harder for death than we pray for life. But it's better to accept death cheerfully when it comes than to rush toward it before our time.
“But what is it that we would live any longer for?” Not for our pleasures; for those we have tasted over and over, even to satiety: so that there is no point of luxury that is new to us. “But a man would be loth to leave his country and his friends behind him;” that is to say, he would have them go first; for that is the least part of his care. “Well; but I would fain live to do more good, and discharge myself in the offices of life;” as if to die were not the duty of every man that lives. We are loth to leave our possessions; and no man swims well with his luggage. We are all of us equally fearful of death, and ignorant of life; but what can be more shameful than to be solicitous upon the brink of security? If death be at any time to be feared, it is always to be feared; but the way never to fear it, is to be often thinking of it. To what end is it to put off for a little while that which we cannot avoid? He that dies does but follow him that is dead. “Why are we then so long afraid of that which is so little awhile of doing?” How miserable are those people that spend their lives in the dismal apprehensions of death! for they are beset on all hands, and every minute in dread of a surprise. We must therefore look about us, as if we were in an enemy’s country; and consider our last hour, not as a punishment, but as the law of Nature: the fear of it is a continual palpitation of the heart, and he that overcomes that terror shall never be troubled with any other.
"But what would we want to live any longer for?" Not for our pleasures. We've tasted those over and over, even to the point of being sick of them. There's no luxury left that's new to us. "But a person would hate to leave their country and friends behind." That's just saying they'd want others to go first. That's the least of their worries. "Well, but I'd like to live to do more good and fulfill my duties in life." As if dying weren't the duty of every person who lives. We hate to leave our possessions behind. But no one swims well with luggage. We're all equally afraid of death and ignorant about life. But what could be more shameful than worrying when we're on the edge of safety? If death should be feared at any time, it should always be feared. But the way to never fear it is to think about it often. What's the point of putting off for a little while something we can't avoid? The person who dies is just following the one who's already dead. "Why are we afraid for so long of something that takes so little time to happen?" How miserable are those people who spend their lives dreading death! They're surrounded on all sides and live every minute in fear of being caught off guard. We must stay alert, as if we were in enemy territory. We should think of our last hour not as punishment, but as nature's law. The fear of death makes our hearts race constantly. The person who conquers that terror will never be troubled by any other fear.
Life is a navigation; we are perpetually wallowing and dashing one against another; sometimes we suffer shipwreck, but we are always in danger and in expectation of it. And what is it when it comes, but either the end of a journey, or a passage? It is as great a folly to fear death as to fear old age; nay, as to fear life itself; for he that would not die ought not to live, since death is the condition of life. Beside that it is a madness to fear a thing that is certain; for where there is no doubt, there is no place for fear.
Life is like sailing a ship. We're constantly struggling and crashing into each other. Sometimes we suffer shipwreck, but we're always in danger and expecting it. And what is shipwreck when it comes? It's either the end of a journey or just a passage to something else. It's foolish to fear death, just as foolish as fearing old age or even life itself. Anyone who doesn't want to die shouldn't want to live, since death is simply part of life's conditions. It's also madness to fear something that's certain. Where there's no doubt, there's no place for fear.
We are still chiding of Fate, and even those that exact the most rigorous justice betwixt man and man are yet themselves unjust to Providence. “Why was such a one taken away in the prime of his years?” As if it were the number of years that makes death easy to us, and not the temper of the mind. He that would live a little longer to-day, would be as loth to die a hundred years hence. But which is more reasonable for us to obey Nature, or for Nature to obey us? Go we must at last, and no matter how soon. It is the work of Fate to make us live long, but it is the business of virtue to make a short life sufficient. Life is to be measured by action, not by time; a man may die old at thirty, and young at fourscore: nay, the one lives after death, and the other perished before he died. I look upon age among the effects of chance. How long I shall live is in the power of others, but it is in my own how well. The largest space of time is to live till a man is wise. He that dies of old age does no more than go to bed when he is weary. Death is the test of life, and it is that only which discovers what we are, and distinguishes betwixt ostentation and virtue. A man may dispute, cite great authorities, talk learnedly, huff it out, and yet be rotten at heart. But let us soberly attend our business: and since it is uncertain when, or where, we shall die, let us look for death in all places, and at all times: we can never study that point too much, which we can never come to experiment whether we know it or not. It is a blessed thing to dispatch the business of life before we die, and then to expect death in the possession of a happy life. He is the great man who is willing to die when his life is pleasant to him. An honest life is not a greater good than an honest death. How many brave young men, by an instinct of Nature, are carried on to great actions, and even to the contempt of all hazards!
We still blame Fate, and even those who demand the strictest justice between people are unfair to Providence themselves. "Why was that person taken away in their prime?" As if the number of years makes death easier for us, rather than our state of mind. Someone who wants to live a little longer today would be just as reluctant to die a hundred years from now. But what makes more sense: for us to obey Nature, or for Nature to obey us? We must go eventually, and it doesn't matter how soon. Fate's job is to make us live long, but virtue's job is to make a short life enough. Life should be measured by action, not by time. A person may die old at thirty, and young at eighty. One lives on after death, while the other died before they actually passed away. I see age as one of chance's effects. How long I'll live is up to others, but how well I live is up to me. The longest span of time is to live until you become wise. Someone who dies of old age does nothing more than go to bed when tired. Death is life's test, and it's the only thing that reveals who we really are and separates show from virtue. A person may argue, quote great authorities, speak learnedly, bluster, and yet be rotten inside. But let's focus on our business. Since it's uncertain when or where we'll die, let's look for death everywhere and always. We can never study that point too much, since we can never test whether we truly understand it. It's a blessing to finish life's business before we die, and then to await death while living happily. The great person is willing to die when life is pleasant to them. An honest life is no greater good than an honest death. How many brave young people, by natural instinct, are driven to great actions and even to scorning all dangers!
It is childish to go out of the world groaning and wailing as we came into it. Our bodies must be thrown away, as the secundine that wraps up the infant, the other being only the covering of the soul; we shall then discover the secrets of Nature; the darkness shall be discussed, and our souls irradiated with light and glory: a glory without a shadow; a glory that shall surround us, and from whence we shall look down and see day and night beneath us. If we cannot lift up our eyes toward the lamp of heaven without dazzling, what shall we do when we come to behold the divine light in its illustrious original? That death which we so much dread and decline, is not the determination, but the intermission of a life, which will return again. All those things, that are the very cause of life, are the way to death: we fear it as we do fame; but it is a great folly to fear words. Some people are so impatient of life, that they are still wishing for death; but he that wishes to die does not desire it: let us rather wait God’s pleasure, and pray for health and life. If we have a mind to live, why do we wish to die? If we have a mind to die, we may do it without talking of it. Men are a great deal more resolute in the article of death itself than they are about the circumstances of it: for it gives a man courage to consider that his fate is inevitable: the slow approaches of death are the most troublesome to us; as we see many a gladiator, who upon his wounds, will direct his adversary’s weapon to his very heart, though but timorous perhaps in the combat. There are some that have not the heart either to live or die; that is a sad case. But this we are sure of, “the fear of death is a continual slavery, as the contempt of it is certain liberty.”
It's childish to leave this world groaning and wailing, just as we entered it. Our bodies must be cast off like the afterbirth that wraps an infant. The body is only the soul's covering. Then we'll discover nature's secrets. The darkness will be cleared away, and our souls will shine with light and glory. This glory will have no shadow. It will surround us, and from there we'll look down to see day and night below us. We can't even look at the sun without being dazzled. What will we do when we see divine light in its original brilliance? The death we dread and avoid isn't the end of life, but just a pause. Life will return again. All the things that cause life also lead to death. We fear death like we fear fame, but it's foolish to fear mere words. Some people grow so tired of living that they constantly wish for death. But someone who wishes to die doesn't really want it. We should wait for God's timing instead, and pray for health and life. If we want to live, why do we wish to die? If we want to die, we can do it without talking about it. People show much more courage when facing death itself than when dealing with its circumstances. It gives a person strength to know their fate is unavoidable. Death's slow approach troubles us most. We see gladiators who, once wounded, will guide their opponent's weapon straight to their heart, even though they might have been fearful during the fight. Some people lack the courage either to live or to die. That's truly sad. But we know this for certain: "The fear of death is constant slavery, while contempt for it brings true freedom."