Roman mosaic from Zeugitana, Carthage (now Tunisia): Theseus escaping King Minos’ labyrinth, 3rd century CE. From the University of Pennsylvania’s Museum of Anthropology and Archeology
EPISTLE XLVII
Each man acquires his character for himself, but accident assigns his duties.
Seneca Epistles 1-65, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Photo credit: Luke Jones at flickr.
Statue of Ceres (2nd century CE) in the museum at Halaesa Arconidea, Sicily.
Ceres was the Roman goddess of agriculture, specifically grain crops. Her parents were Saturn and Ops; she was the mother of Proserpina. Her festival was the Cerialia, held between April 12th and 19th, with games in the Circus Maximus on the final day. One of the rituals associated with these games was the opener: hundreds of foxes with flaming torches tied to their tails ran out onto the track. There was a fast in honor of Ceres on October 4th. She was also given a sacrifice to purify a house after a funeral.
For more concise information on Roman deities and everyday life, consult Handbook to Life in Ancient Rome, by Lesley Adkins and Roy A. Adkins.
Photo: Per-Erik Skramstad / Wonders of Sicily
Still Life With Skull, by Paul Cezanne. Image courtesy of WikiArt
Epistle XII. On Old Age
Let us cherish and love old age; for it is full of pleasure if one knows how to use it. Fruits are most welcome when almost over; youth is most charming at its close; the last drink delights the toper,– the glass which souses him and puts the finishing touch on his drunkenness. Each pleasure reserves to the end the greatest delights which it contains. Life is most delightful when it is on the downward slope, but has not yet reached the abrupt decline… Or else the very fact of our not wanting pleasures has taken the place the pleasures themselves. How comforting it is to have tired out one’s appetites, and to have done with them! “But,” you say, “it is a nuisance to be looking death in the face!” Death, however, should be looked in the face by young and old alike. We are not summoned according to our rating on the censor’s list. Moreover, no one is so old that it would be improper for him to hope for another day of existence. And one day, mind you, is a stage on life’s journey.
Seneca Epistles 1-65, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Male figure on funerary couch surrounded by funeral cortège (detail), Funerary procession, Amiternum, c. 50-1 B.C.E. (Museum, Aquila) (photo: Erin Taylor, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)
Pacuvius… used to hold a regular burial sacrifice in his own honor, with wine and the usual funeral feasting, and then would have himself carried from the dining-room to his chamber, while eunuchs applauded and sang in Greek to a musical accompaniment: “He has lived his life, he has lived his life!” Thus Pacuvius had himself carried out to burial every day. Let us, however, do from a good motive what he used to do from a debased motive; let us go to our sleep with joy and gladness; let us say:
I have lived; the course which Fortune set for me
Is finished.**
And if God is pleased to add another day, we should welcome it with glad hearts. That man is happiest, and is secure in his own possession of himself, who can await the morrow without apprehension. When a man has said: “I have lived!”, every morning he arises is a bonus.
** Vergil, Aenid, iv. 63
Seneca Epistles 1-65, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
image by Andy Bridge
EPISTLE LXXXI. On Benefits.
You complain that you have met with an ungrateful person. If this is your first experience of that sort, you should offer thanks to your good luck or your caution. In this case, however, caution can effect nothing but to make you ungenerous… It is better… to get no return than to confer no benefits. Even after a poor crop one should sow again… In order to discover one grateful person, it is worth while to make trial of many ungrateful ones.
Seneca Epistles 1-65, Translation by Richard Gummere. Loeb Classical Library.
Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joys, and dividing our grief.
Marcus Tullius Cicero
Valerie Block 