Book 1, Chapter 39

93 “Away, then, with this almost old-womanish nonsense, that it is miserable to die before one’s time. What time, after all? The time appointed by nature? But nature gave us life on loan, like money, without fixing a day for repayment. What grounds have you for complaint if she calls it back when she chooses? Those were the terms on which you received it. These same people think that, if a little child dies, we should bear it calmly, and if an infant dies in the cradle, we should not even complain. Yet nature has demanded back her gift from the infant more harshly. ‘He had not yet tasted life’s sweetness,’ someone says, ‘whereas the other already hoped for great things, and had begun to enjoy them.’ But in everything else it is thought better to obtain some portion than none. Why should life be different? Though Callimachus puts it well when he says that Priam wept far more often than Troilus. Meanwhile the good fortune of those who die in advanced age is praised.

94 “Why? For I think that no one could find a longer life more pleasant than they could. Surely nothing is sweeter to a human being than wisdom, and whatever else old age takes away, it certainly brings that. But what span of life is long? Or what, for a human being, is long at all? Has not old age,

“‘Pursuing us from behind as we run, just now boys, just now youths,“‘Overtaken us before we knew it?’

“Yet because we have nothing beyond it, we call this long. All such spans are called long or short in proportion to the share allotted to each creature. Aristotle says that beside the river Hypanis, which flows into the Black Sea from the European side, little creatures are born that live a single day. One that dies at the eighth hour has therefore died at an advanced age; one that dies at sunset is decrepit, particularly if the day is at the summer solstice. Compare our longest span of life with eternity: we shall be found almost as short-lived as those little creatures.”

93 “Away, then, with this foolish, almost old-womanish notion that an early death makes someone miserable. Early by what timetable? Nature’s? She lent you life as she might lend money, setting no date for its return. If she chooses to call in the loan, what grounds have you to complain? You accepted those terms. The very same people say we should bear a little boy’s death calmly; if he dies in his cradle, we shouldn’t even complain. Yet with the baby nature has been harsher in reclaiming her gift. ‘He never got to taste how sweet life is,’ comes the answer. ‘The older child had begun enjoying it and already had great hopes.’ But everywhere else a taste of something counts as better than none. Why reverse that rule for life? Still, there’s something in Callimachus’s remark: Priam shed tears far oftener than Troilus. Meanwhile, those who die in old age are praised for their good fortune.

94 “Why? I suppose a longer life couldn’t possibly have pleased any of them more! In fact, nothing gives us more pleasure than wisdom. Whatever else age removes, wisdom is certainly what it brings. But how many years make a long life? Can anything be long for us? Hasn’t old age “‘Chased us from behind, now children, now young people running, “‘And overtaken us before we knew?’ “We call our years long because we’ve nothing beyond them. Long and short are simply relative to the portion allotted to each creature. Aristotle describes tiny animals born by the Hypanis, the river entering the Black Sea on its European side. Their whole life lasts a day. One dying in the eighth hour has reached old age; by sunset it’s worn out with years—especially on the summer solstice! Measure our greatest lifespan against eternity, and our lives turn out almost as brief as theirs.”