It must be confessed, indeed, that properly speaking, this passage of Seneca is levelled only against too great assiduity in labour and business; the application, however, is very just, in relation to chagrin, which causes in men’s minds a far greater alteration than can be excited by the most rude labour either of mind or body.
The ancients had, besides this, another motive which induced them to make merry, and pass their time agreeably. They considered the short duration of their life, and for that reason endeavoured to make the best use of it they could. It will be no difficult matter for me to prove what I here advance.
Every one knows that the Egyptians made use of a very extraordinary custom in their festivals. They shewed to every guest a skeleton: this, according to some, was to make them think of death. Others again assure us, “That this strange figure was made use of to a quite contrary end; that this image of death was shewn for no other intent but to excite them to pass away their life merrily, and to employ the few days of its small duration to the best advantage; as having no other condition to expect after death, but that of this frightful skeleton[4].”
This last sentiment is, without doubt, most probable; for what likelihood is there that people would make reflections the most sad and serious, at a time when they proposed only to divert, and make themselves merry. This influence had the sight of a skull upon the mind of Trimalchion, who Petronius[5] tells us, thus expressed himself on that object:— “Alas! alas! wretched that we are! what a nothing is poor man! we shall be all like this, when Fate shall have snatched us hence. Let us therefore rejoice, and be merry while we are here.” The Latin is much stronger:—
Heu! heu! nos miseros! quam totus homuncio nil est,
Sic erimus cuncti, postquam nos auferet orcus.
Ergo vivamus, dum licet esse, bene.
A little before he said almost the same thing. “Alas! wine therefore lives longer than man, let us then sit down and drink bumpers; life and wine are the same thing.” Heu! heu! ergo diutius vivit vinum, quam homuncio. Quare Tangomenas faciamus, vita vinum est. This puts me in mind of what Athenæus[6] reports of an Egyptian, called Mycernius. This man having been told by the oracle that he had but a very short time to live, resolved to make the most of that short space, and to that end did nothing but drink night and day.
This thought of an approaching death is not so importunate as is believed, since it is, says an[7] anonymous French author, a principal beauty of an ancient hymn of the poet Cecilius. “Let me be assured, says he, that I shall live six months, and I shall employ them so well, as to die the seventh without any regret in the world.”
The same author goes on thus:— “The moderns have not failed imitating the elegant flights of the fine wits of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I find, especially, that the Italians come nearer to them; perhaps, because they are more proper than others to refine on pleasure. This is the character of the nation, of the truth of which I shall give no other proof than the last lines of an elegy, written by Samazarius, a Neapolitan gentleman.” The sense of which in English runs thus.