Essays. Michel de Montaigne

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СКАЧАТЬ Epistles, iii. 2, 14]

      And seeing that no temper of arms is of proof to secure us:

       Ille licet ferro cautus, se condat et aere,

       Mors tamen inclusum protrahet inde caput

      [Let him hide beneath iron or brass in his fear, death will pull his head out of his armour.

      —Propertius iii. 18]

—let us learn bravely to stand our ground, and fight him. And to begin to deprive him of the greatest advantage he has over us, let us take a way quite contrary to the common course. Let us disarm him of his novelty and strangeness, let us converse and be familiar with him, and have nothing so frequent in our thoughts as death. Upon all occasions represent him to our imagination in his every shape; at the stumbling of a horse, at the falling of a tile, at the least prick with a pin, let us presently consider, and say to ourselves, “Well, and what if it had been death itself?” and, thereupon, let us encourage and fortify ourselves. Let us evermore, amidst our jollity and feasting, set the remembrance of our frail condition before our eyes, never suffering ourselves to be so far transported with our delights, but that we have some intervals of reflecting upon, and considering how many several ways this jollity of ours tends to death, and with how many dangers it threatens it. The Egyptians were wont to do after this manner, who in the height of their feasting and mirth, caused a dried skeleton of a man to be brought into the room to serve for a memento to their guests:

       Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum

       Grata superveniet, quae non sperabitur, hora.

      [Think each day when past is thy last; the next day, as unexpected, will be the more welcome.

      —Horace, Epistles, i. 4, 13]

      Where death waits for us is uncertain; let us look for him everywhere. The premeditation of death is the premeditation of liberty; he who has learned to die has unlearned to serve. There is nothing evil in life for him who rightly comprehends that the privation of life is no evil: to know, how to die delivers us from all subjection and constraint. Paulus Emilius answered him whom the miserable King of Macedon, his prisoner, sent to entreat him that he would not lead him in his triumph, “Let him make that request to himself.” [Plutarch, Life of Paulus Aemilius, c. 17; Cicero, Tusculum Disputations, v. 40.]

In truth, in all things, if nature do not help a little, it is very hard for art and industry to perform anything to purpose. I am in my own nature not melancholic, but meditative; and there is nothing I have more continually entertained myself withal than imaginations of death, even in the most wanton time of my age:

       Jucundum quum aetas florida ver ageret.

      [When my florid age rejoiced in pleasant spring.

      —Catullus, lxviii.]

      In the company of ladies, and at games, some have perhaps thought me possessed with some jealousy, or the uncertainty of some hope, whilst I was entertaining myself with the remembrance of someone, surprised, a few days before, with a burning fever of which he died, returning from an entertainment like this, with his head full of idle fancies of love and jollity, as mine was then, and that, for aught I knew, the same-destiny was attending me.

       Jam fuerit, nec post unquam revocare licebit.

      [Presently the present will have gone, never to be recalled.

      —Lucretius, iii. 928.]

Yet did not this thought wrinkle my forehead any more than any other. It is impossible but we must feel a sting in such imaginations as these, at first; but with often turning and returning them in one's mind, they, at last, become so familiar as to be no trouble at all: otherwise, I, for my part, should be in a perpetual fright and frenzy; for never man was so distrustful of his life, never man so uncertain as to its duration. Neither health, which I have hitherto ever enjoyed very strong and vigorous, and very seldom interrupted, does prolong, nor sickness contract my hopes. Every minute, methinks, I am escaping, and it eternally runs in my mind, that what may be done to-morrow, may be done to-day. Hazards and dangers do, in truth, little or nothing hasten our end; and if we consider how many thousands more remain and hang over our heads, besides the accident that immediately threatens us, we shall find that the sound and the sick, those that are abroad at sea, and those that sit by the fire, those who are engaged in battle, and those who sit idle at home, are the one as near it as the other.

       Nemo altero fragilior est; nemo in crastinum sui certior.

      [No man is more fragile than another: no man more certain than another of tomorrow.

      —Seneca, Epistles, 91.]

      For anything I have to do before I die, the longest leisure would appear too short, were it but an hour's business I had to do.

      A friend of mine the other day turning over my tablets, found therein a memorandum of something I would have done after my decease, whereupon I told him, as it was really true, that though I was no more than a league's distance only from my own house, and merry and well, yet when that thing came into my head, I made haste to write it down there, because I was not certain to live till I came home. As a man that am eternally brooding over my own thoughts, and confine them to my own particular concerns, I am at all hours as well prepared as I am ever like to be, and death, whenever he shall come, can bring nothing along with him I did not expect long before. We should always, as near as we can, be booted and spurred, and ready to go, and, above all things, take care, at that time, to have no business with anyone but one's self:

       Quid brevi fortes jaculamur avo

       Multa?

      [Why for so short a life tease ourselves with so many projects?

      —Horace, Odes, ii. 16, 17.]

      for we shall there find work enough to do, without any need of addition. One man complains, more than of death, that he is thereby prevented of a glorious victory; another, that he must die before he has married his daughter, or educated his children; a third seems only troubled that he must lose the society of his wife; a fourth, the conversation of his son, as the principal comfort and concern of his being. For my part, I am, thanks be to God, at this instant in such a condition, that I am ready to dislodge, whenever it shall please Him, without regret for anything whatsoever. I disengage myself throughout from all worldly relations; my leave is soon taken of all but myself. Never did any one prepare to bid adieu to the world more absolutely and unreservedly, and to shake hands with all manner of interest in it, than I expect to do. The deadest deaths are the best:

       ‘Miser, O miser,’ aiunt, ‘omnia ademit’

       Una dies infesta mihi tot praemia vitae.’

      [‘Wretch that I am,’ they cry, ‘one fatal day has deprived me of all joys of life.’

      —Lucretius, iii. 911.]

      And the builder,

       Manuet opera interrupta, minaeque

       Murorum ingentes.

      [The works remain incomplete, the tall pinnacles of the walls СКАЧАТЬ