Frugal living can bring one to old age; and to my mind old age is not to be refused any more than it is to be craved. There is a pleasure in being in one's own company as long as possible, when a man has made himself worth enjoying.
The question, therefore, on which we have to record our judgment is, whether one should shrink from extreme old age and should hasten the end artificially, instead of waiting for it to come.
A man who sluggishly awaits his fate is almost a coward, just as he is immoderately given to wine who drains the jar dry and sucks up even the dregs. But we shall ask this question also: "Is the extremity of life the dregs, or is it the clearest and purest part of all, provided only that the mind is unimpaired, and the senses, still sound, give their support to the spirit, and the body is not worn out and dead before its time?"
For it makes a great deal of difference whether a man is lengthening his life or his death. But if the body is useless for service, why should one not free the struggling soul?
Perhaps one ought to do this a little before the debt is due, lest, when it falls due, he may be unable to perform the act. And since the danger of living in wretchedness is greater than the danger of dying soon, he is a fool who refuses to stake a little time and win a hazard of great gain.
The question, therefore, on which we have to record our judgment is, whether one should shrink from extreme old age and should hasten the end artificially, instead of waiting for it to come.
A man who sluggishly awaits his fate is almost a coward, just as he is immoderately given to wine who drains the jar dry and sucks up even the dregs. But we shall ask this question also: "Is the extremity of life the dregs, or is it the clearest and purest part of all, provided only that the mind is unimpaired, and the senses, still sound, give their support to the spirit, and the body is not worn out and dead before its time?"
For it makes a great deal of difference whether a man is lengthening his life or his death. But if the body is useless for service, why should one not free the struggling soul?
Perhaps one ought to do this a little before the debt is due, lest, when it falls due, he may be unable to perform the act. And since the danger of living in wretchedness is greater than the danger of dying soon, he is a fool who refuses to stake a little time and win a hazard of great gain.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58
As with so many “hot button” topics, we are understandably nervous about discussing suicide. The prospect of dying is frightful enough, and we become all the more uncomfortable with the possibility that it could be by our own hands.
When I have my head on straight, and my passions are not running away with me, I recognize why my life is worth living, and that I do myself a disservice when I think my happiness to be beyond my power. Nature has made it so that a hardship is always an opportunity to live well, where I need not deliberately wish to end my life in order to somehow improve it.
Can there be times, however, when it is fitting to welcome death, or even to speed it along? If I wish to make sense of Seneca’s reflections here, I will need to rightly distinguish the Stoic principles he works from, and to be clear for myself in how I am using my terms.
While I might assume that life is a good, and death is an evil, I should rather approach them as being, in and of themselves, conditions that are indifferent, only becoming beneficial or harmful through their relationship to virtue, the ultimate human value.
There have been times when I have wanted to live, and there have been times when I have wanted to die, and yet through any of that, I should be asking myself only what I need to do in order to act with character and integrity. The rest falls into place after that.
If living longer is most conducive to being as virtuous as I can be, then let me cling to that life. If dying now is most conducive to being as virtuous as I can be, then let me gladly embrace that duty. That I will die is certain—how I will go about dying is up to me.
Therefore, when my continued existence would only be a hindrance to living with excellence, a quality defined by merit over circumstances, I may freely surrender this life. In certain situations, the very act of relinquishing that life might itself be the most noble act of all.
This may not be suicide in the narrow sense, when death is the desired goal, but rather a sacrifice where death is merely a necessary consequence of doing right. I think of the solider who charges forth to protect his friends, or an old aboriginal man who knows when it is finally time for him to quietly disappear into the woods.
When simply extending life restricts the very purpose of life, it may well be time to willingly throw in the towel.
Within only a few years of writing this letter to Lucilius, Seneca would take his own life on the orders of the Emperor Nero. I am sure he did this not because he dreaded living, but rather because he dreaded dishonor the most.
As with so many “hot button” topics, we are understandably nervous about discussing suicide. The prospect of dying is frightful enough, and we become all the more uncomfortable with the possibility that it could be by our own hands.
When I have my head on straight, and my passions are not running away with me, I recognize why my life is worth living, and that I do myself a disservice when I think my happiness to be beyond my power. Nature has made it so that a hardship is always an opportunity to live well, where I need not deliberately wish to end my life in order to somehow improve it.
Can there be times, however, when it is fitting to welcome death, or even to speed it along? If I wish to make sense of Seneca’s reflections here, I will need to rightly distinguish the Stoic principles he works from, and to be clear for myself in how I am using my terms.
While I might assume that life is a good, and death is an evil, I should rather approach them as being, in and of themselves, conditions that are indifferent, only becoming beneficial or harmful through their relationship to virtue, the ultimate human value.
There have been times when I have wanted to live, and there have been times when I have wanted to die, and yet through any of that, I should be asking myself only what I need to do in order to act with character and integrity. The rest falls into place after that.
If living longer is most conducive to being as virtuous as I can be, then let me cling to that life. If dying now is most conducive to being as virtuous as I can be, then let me gladly embrace that duty. That I will die is certain—how I will go about dying is up to me.
Therefore, when my continued existence would only be a hindrance to living with excellence, a quality defined by merit over circumstances, I may freely surrender this life. In certain situations, the very act of relinquishing that life might itself be the most noble act of all.
This may not be suicide in the narrow sense, when death is the desired goal, but rather a sacrifice where death is merely a necessary consequence of doing right. I think of the solider who charges forth to protect his friends, or an old aboriginal man who knows when it is finally time for him to quietly disappear into the woods.
When simply extending life restricts the very purpose of life, it may well be time to willingly throw in the towel.
Within only a few years of writing this letter to Lucilius, Seneca would take his own life on the orders of the Emperor Nero. I am sure he did this not because he dreaded living, but rather because he dreaded dishonor the most.
—Reflection written in 5/2013
IMAGE: Manuel Dominguez Sanchez, The Death of Seneca (1871)
I guess a primary question here is the difference between allowing death to overcome you and seeking it out.
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