Is Death Dreadful?

New Zealand Mail, Issue 878, 28 December 1888, Page 11

Is Death Dreadful?

There is an interesting article in the October number of the New York Forum (Trubner and Co.) in which Mr Junius Henri Browne, writing after long study and even experience of the . subject, endeavours to dethrone Death from the position of King of Terrors. Mr Browne has, he tells us, ‘ seen a great deal of death, and feels as if he had died repeatedly himself.’ As a boy he had an unusually large number of narrow escapes from death. In the Civil War he received a wound which was believed to be mortal; and in the course of his professional experience as a doctor he has seen all sorts and conditions of people die. The result of his experience may be gathered from the following abstract of his article : THE PAINLESSNESS OF DEATH. He begins with pointing out how ‘ these days of reason and science ’ should have shattered the old superstition that death itself is painful : ‘ Physical dissolution Was long regarded as intensely painful, and bygone literature is full of such phrases as ‘ the last struggle ’ and ‘ the final agony,’ which are entirely without significance. The act of dying, it is now ascertained, is absolutely free from suffering; is really unconscious; insensibility always preceding it; Sudden and violent death, shocking to the senses, may not be, probably is not, painful to the victim, Drowning, hanging, freezing, shooting, falling from a height, poisoning of many kinds, beget stupor or numbness of the nerves, which is incompatible with sensation.* . • , ' AS A MAN LIVES, BO HE DIES.' The next popular fallacy about death which Mr Browne exposes is that men alter in'some way when about to die. The idea survives, and was noted the other day, in the legal doctrine about •dying ; you will think differently when you know that you have but a few hours to live.' This may be true of some persons, especially of the weak and unstable, of those more remarkable for emotions than’convictions. But it is not' generally true. The majority of men in this age die as they have lived." If they have been selfish, unjust," sensual, vicious, they pass away in selfishness, injustice, sensuality, viciousness. The pious man, who has adopted a creed, follows his religious observances in a dangerous illness, and believes that his soul will enjoy a blissful immortality. The infidel, in like’condition, though he regulates hia worldly affaii's, concerns himself not about the future, caring little and doubting much whether there be any.’ THE IRONY OF DEATH. But thovgh in matters o! faith and character a man’s death is as his life, yet ‘ the manner of our life,’ says Mr Browne, ‘may have far less influence

than is popularly thought on our closing days ’‘ Sinners may go out in peace and saints in terror. The Marshal de Richelieu was one of tLa most notorious profligates 6f his time ; he cultivated every elegant vice of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; he was a paragon of unscrupulousness and debauchery. But good fortune ever attended him, and at ninety-two he terminated his disreputable existence as terminates a day in blooming spring. William Cowper, contemplative poet, purest, kindest, gentlest of men, who never wronged a human creature, died in despair.’ ‘ HOW BEAUTIFUL IS SLEEP, SLEEP AND HIS BROTHER DEATH.’ Mr Browne, in the next place, justifies, from the scientific point of view, the parallel which the poets have in all ages set up between Death and Sleep: —‘ Sleep is temporary death, and is well-nigh as unintelligible; but the fact that we give a third of our life to it divests it of awe. Everyone admits that sleep, sound, dreamless, continuous sleep, is delicious, one of the rarest luxuries possible, the restorer of peace, the soother of care, the balm of grief, It comes after the labours, anxieties, and troubles of the day, bringing rest and oblivion, as death comes after the labours, troubles, and anxieties of life. If death brings rest and oblivion —it can hardly bring anything worse —how few, comparatively, judging from their assertions, would be content ! ’ ‘ DREAD OF DEATH AND DESIRE TO LIVE. The fact is, says Mr Browne, that the dread of death springs from confusion of thought. Some people combine the centradictory ideas of annihilation and consciousness, “as if one should say * how uncomfortable it must be to feel that one is really annihilated.’ ” Other people make another mistake : “‘ldo not want to die’has a very different meaning from ‘ I dread to die.’ Attachment to life while one is in health, useful, having objects to attain, with influence and friends, is natural and in consonance with law. But is not attachment to life for life’s sake only, when old age has come, and vigour and helpfulness have gone, and our future is behind,us, unnatural, the result of false teaching or a gloomy temperament?’ DEATH NOT A FIEND, BUT ‘ OUR DEAREST FRIEND.’ The desire to live is natural and true; the dread of death is unnatural and false. Death, says Mr Browne, is one of those imaginary terrors which only need facing in order to be unmasked. He then proceeds to justify from his own experience this description of the gentleness of death :— ‘ I remember, though but a small boy at the time, the first man who passed away before my eyes. He was patient, tranquil, philosophic, while conscious of his doom. I had expected him to be terrified, to perish in agony, and the circumstance made an indelible impression on my budding mind. I have seen the last moments of delicate, highly nervous women,. who would shriek at the sight of a spider, and who could not bear the mention of death. l Anyone who had known them would have thought that their closing scenes must have been distressing. They longed to live in the beginning; but, as they ebbed away, and were conscious of the fact, peace and renunciation came to them. No hero of a hundred fights could have borne lingering illness and its end more serenely.’ Here is what Mr Browne says finally in recording the results of his experience ‘ During the Civil War the soldiers represented the average intelligence and education of the North, being mainly from the agricultural regions and small towns. I cannot recall a single instance of a man who was troubled with doubt or alarm. Many wanted to know if they could get well, and almost invariably said, ‘ I am not afraid to die.’ They were not concerned about the future, but about the past and present, leaving messages and mementos for the ’ near and dear, and passing away gently and in peace. Thus wide arid varied observation justifies me in the opinion that, though Death may- seem our mortal foe, he is, perhaps, our dearest friend;’