MEN fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children, is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes mixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should think with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured, and thereby imagine, what the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted, and dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts, are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa. Groans, and convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man, so weak, but it mates, and masters, the fear of death; and therefore, death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him, that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear preoccupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft, over and over. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good spirits, the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a compliment; Livia, conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissimulation; as Tacitus saith of him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; Ut puto deus fio. Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; Adeste si quid mihi restat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great preparations, made it appear more fearful. Better saith he, qui finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat naturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is', Nunc dimittis; when a man hath obtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.—Extinctus amabitur idem.
People fear death as children fear going into the dark. Just as stories increase that natural fear in children, they also increase the fear of death. Certainly, reflecting on death as the wages of sin and the passage to another world is holy and religious. But fearing it as a debt owed to nature is weak. Yet religious reflections sometimes contain vanity and superstition. Some friars’ books on mortification tell a man to imagine the pain of having just his fingertip crushed or tortured. From this, he is told to imagine death’s pains, when the whole body breaks down and dissolves. Yet death often comes with less pain than the torture of a limb. The organs most essential to life are not the most sensitive to pain. A man speaking only as a philosopher, without religious guidance, put it well. “The spectacle of death frightens us more than death itself.” Groans, convulsions, a discolored face, weeping friends, mourning clothes, funerals, and similar things make death look terrible. It is worth noting that no human passion is so weak that it cannot match and overcome the fear of death. Death, then, is not such a terrible enemy. We have so many allies within us that can defeat it. Revenge triumphs over death. Love scorns it. Honor seeks it. Grief flees to it. Fear anticipates it by bringing it about. We even read that pity, the tenderest of emotions, drove many to die after the emperor Otho killed himself. They acted from sheer compassion for their ruler, wishing to prove themselves his truest followers. Seneca adds fastidiousness and weariness to the list. “Consider how long you have done the same things. Not only the brave or miserable can wish to die, but even those who are tired of it all.” A man may wish to die without being either brave or miserable. He may simply be weary of doing the same thing over and over. It is equally worth noting how little the approach of death changes people of strong spirit. They seem to remain themselves until the last moment. Augustus Caesar died with an affectionate farewell. “Livia, remember our marriage, and live and fare well.” Tiberius died still concealing his thoughts. As Tacitus says, “His strength and body were now failing Tiberius, but his ability to conceal his thoughts was not.” Vespasian died making a joke as he sat on the toilet. “I think I am becoming a god.” Galba died with a firm declaration, offering his neck. “Strike, if it serves the Roman people.” Septimius Severus died attending to business. “Come, if anything remains for me to do.” And there are other examples like these. Certainly, the Stoics devoted too much effort to death. Their elaborate preparations made it seem more frightening. Better is the description of someone “who counts life’s final end among nature’s gifts.” Dying is as natural as being born. To a tiny infant, perhaps, one is as painful as the other. Someone who dies while pursuing something earnestly is like someone wounded in the heat of battle. For a time, he scarcely feels the injury. In the same way, a mind firmly focused on something good turns aside the pains of death. Above all, believe this, the sweetest hymn is “Now let your servant depart,” when someone has achieved worthy goals and hopes. Death also opens the gate to a good reputation and puts out envy. “The same man will be loved when he is dead.”