But when anyone shrinks back in
the hour of death and looks longingly at life, we must lay hands upon him. I
will never weep for a man who dies cheerfully, nor for one who dies weeping:
the former wipes away my tears, the latter by his tears makes himself unworthy
that any should be shed for him.
Shall I weep for Hercules because
he was burned alive, or for Regulus because he was pierced by so many nails, or
for Cato because he tore open his wounds a second time? All these men
discovered how at the cost of a small portion of time they might obtain
immortality, and by their deaths gained eternal life.
It may
sound a bit harsh to our modern sensitivities, but it is never necessary to
despair about loss or death. This is not because I shouldn’t care, but rather
because I can learn to better distinguish what is worth caring for.
Misfortune
is not an evil, and death is not an evil. Give me more or give me less, but the
merit of my character is what will determine the value of the circumstances. It
is natural for things to change, and it is natural for them to come and go;
what will provide my life with any dignity is what I choose to do with what is
given, for whatever time that I may have.
Why
mourn the loss of a good man? It was his time, and he distinguished himself in
wisdom and virtue. His courage in facing fear and pain is an example of
greatness.
Why
mourn the loss of a bad man? When push came to shove, he chose to live poorly,
to compromise the greater for the sake of the lesser. I can have the deepest compassion
for him, but I should not admire him.
I remind
myself that how I go about dying will be the final measure of how I went about
living. I will choose what becomes of it all.
Hercules
was terribly mutilated from putting on a poisoned cloak, a victim of trickery, and
was only relieved of his suffering when his body was consumed on his funeral pyre.
It is
said that Regulus kept his word to freely return to Carthage as a prisoner,
only to then be tortured to death by being locked in a barrel pierced with spikes.
Cato wished
to deny Caesar the pleasure of having power over his life, and so he stabbed
himself with his own sword. The wound was not fatal, however, and when he saw how
his friends and attendants rushed to save his life, he pushed them aside and
tore out his own bowels to make sure the job was done.
I shrink
in horror when I think of these gruesome stories, yet I also think of how
behind each is someone fighting to live, and to die, in conviction, integrity,
and justice. Hercules, Regulus, and Cato all had fortitude when the end came.
Written in 12/2011
IMAGES:
IMAGES:
Francisco
de Zurbaran, The Death of Hercules (1634)
Salvator
Rosa, The Death of Regulus (c. 1652)
Guillaume
Guillon Lethière, The Death of Cato of Utica (1795)
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