Of Death
by Francis
Bacon
(Essay)
Read the Summary
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.
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