Gladiator Mosaic, from Villa di Dar Buc Amméra at Zliten, in the Archaeological Museum of Tripoli. Photo from Livius.org.
Severity is the best corrective, but loses its efficacy by over-use.
On Clemency. From Seneca’s Moral Essays. Translated by John W. Basore. The Loeb Classical Library. London: W. Heinemann, 1928-1935. 3 vols.: Volume I.
Mosaic of Neptune in his sea-horse drawn chariot, mid 3rd century CE, from the Sousse Archeological Museum, Tunisia.
The management of water was critical in the heat of July, and was dependent on Neptune, the Roman god of fresh water and the seas, who also protected drilling operations and wells. Neptune was identified with the Greek god Poseidon, and following the Greek tradition, his brothers were Jupiter and Pluto. He was often depicted with horses. A major festival, the Neptunalia, was held in his honor on July 23rd. According to the 5th century writer Ambrosius Theodosius Macrobius, Neptune was one of only three deities to whom it was appropriate to sacrifice a bull. The other two were Apollo and Mars.
Adapted from Handbook to Life in Ancient Rome, by Lesley Adkins and Roy A. Adkins, and The Gods of Ancient Rome, by Robert Turcan.
Women playing ball. Mosaic from the Villa Romana del Casale, in Piazza Armerina, Sicily, 4th century CE. Image from Greek and Roman Mosaics, by Umberto Pappalardo and Rosario Ciardello.
Where is that common sense of yours? …Have you come to be tormented by a trifle?… None of these things is unusual or unexpected. It is as nonsensical to be put out by such events as it is to complain of being spattered in the street or at getting befouled in the mud. The program of life is the same as that of a bathing establishment, a crowd, or a journey: sometimes things will be thrown at you, and sometimes they will strike you by accident. Life is not a dainty business. You have started on a long journey; you are bound to slip, collide, fall, become weary, and cry out: “O for Death!” –or in other words, tell lies. At one stage you will leave a comrade behind you, at another you will bury someone, at another you will be apprehensive. It is amid stumbling of this sort that you must travel out this rugged journey.
Seneca Epistles 93-124, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Mosaic from the Villa Romana del Casale, Piazza Armerina, Sicily. 4th century CE.
My tardiness is answering your letter was not due to press of business. Do not listen to that sort of excuse; I am at liberty, and so is anyone else who wishes to be at liberty. No man is at the mercy of affairs. He gets entangled in them of his own accord, and then flatters himself that being busy is a proof of happiness.
Seneca Epistles 93-124, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Roman fresco (c. 53-79 CE) from the National Archaeological Museum of Naples. Found in Pompeii. Probably not the poet Sulpicia, but an ancient woman with a writing implement, nonetheless.
Many women wrote poetry in ancient Rome, but the works of only one have survived. Six short poems written by Sulpicia, the daughter of the jurist and orator Servius Sulpicius Rufus, and the niece of the statesman and patron of the arts Valerius Messalla Corvinus, have survived, handed down as part of the Corpus Tibullianum, a collection of poems by Tibullus and other poets affiliated with Messalla. Sulpicia lived during the time of Augustus.
The above description adapted from Diatoma and The Handbook to life in Ancient Rome, by Lesley Adkins and Roy A. Adkins.
1.
At last. It’s come. Love,
the kind that veiling
will give me reputation more
than showing my soul naked to someone.
I prayed to Aphrodite in Latin, in poems;
she brought him, snuggled him
into my bosom.
Venus has kept her promises:
let her tell the story of my happiness,
in case some woman will be said
not to have had her share.
I would not want to trust
anything to tablets, signed and sealed,
so no one reads me
before my love–
but indiscretion has its charms;
it’s boring
to fit one’s face to reputation.
May I be said to be
a worthy lover for a worthy love.
From Sulpicia: Six Poems. Translation copyright Lee Pearcy; all rights reserved.
Statue of Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger in Cordoba, Spain, by Amadeo Ruiz Olmos
The most important contribution to peace of mind is never to do wrong. Those who lack self-control lead disturbed and tumultuous lives; their crimes are balanced by their fears, and they are never at ease. For they tremble after the deed, and they are embarrassed; their consciences do not allow them to busy themselves with other matters, and continually compel them to give an answer. Whoever expects punishment, receives it, but whoever deserves it, expects it. Where there is an evil conscience something may bring safety, but nothing can bring ease; for a man imagines that, even if he is not under arrest, he may soon be arrested. His sleep is troubled; when he speaks of another man’s crime, he reflects upon his own, which seems to him not sufficiently blotted out, not sufficiently hidden from view. A wrongdoer sometimes has the luck to escape notice but never the assurance thereof.
Seneca Epistles 93-124, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Photo credit: Gunnar Bach Pedersen, courtesy Wikimedia Commons.
Valerie Block 