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SA TIRE 10 The Futiliry of Aspirations Omnibus
in terris, quae sunt a Gadibus usque In all
the countries that stretch from Cadiz across to the Ganges and thelands
of dawn, how few are the people who manage to tell genuine
blessings from those of a very different order, dispelling
the mists of terror! For when do we have good grounds for our
fears or desires? What idea proves so inspired that you do not regret
your attempt to carry it out, and its realization? The gods,
in response to the prayers of the owners, obligingly wreck entire
households. In peace and in war alike, we beg for
things that will hurt us. To many the art of speaking is fatal, and their
own torrential fluency. In a famous instance, an athlete 10 met his
end through trusting in his strength and his marvellous muscles. More,
however, are smothered by heaps of money, amassed with
excessive care, and by fortunes exceeding other men 's wealth by as
much as the giant British whale outgrows the dolphin. Hence it
was, in those terrible times, that on Nero's ordcrs Longinus'
house and the over-rich Seneca 's spacious park were
closed, and the Lateran family's splendid mansion besieged by an
entire company. A soldier rarely enters an attic. When you
make a journey by night, if you carry even a handful of plain silver
items, you will go in fear of the sword 20 and
barge-pole; you will quake at the- shadow of a reed that sways in the
moonlight. The
traveller with nothing on him sings in the robber's face. As a
rule, the first prayer offered, and the one that is most familiar in every
temple, is 'money': 'let my wealth increase, ' 'let my strong box be the
biggest of all down town'. But aconite never is drunk from an
earthenware mug; that is something to fear when you're handed a jewelled
cup, or when Setine glows in a golden wine-bowl. In view
of that, you may well approve of the two philosophers: one of
them used to laugh whenever he closed the door and
stepped into the street; his opposite number would weep. 30 While harsh
censorious laughter is universal and easy, one
wonders how the other's eyes were supplied with moisture. Democritus'
sides would shake with gales of incessant laughter, although in the towns of
his day there were no purple- or scarlet- bordered
togas to be seen; no rods or litters or platforms. What would
he have made of a praetor standing there in his car, lifted
high in the air amid the dust of the race-track, dressed
in the tunic of Jove himself, with a curtain-like toga of Tyrian embroidery draped
on his shoulders, and a crown so enormous in its
circumference that no neck could support its weight; 40 in fact
it is held by a public slave who sweats with exertion. (He rides
in the same chariot to restrain the official from hybris. ) And don't
forget the bird that is perched on his ivory staff, on this
side trumpeters, on that a train of dutiful clients walking
in front, and the snow-white Romans beside his bridle who have been
transformed into friends by the dole thrust into their purses. In his
day too, in all the places where people gathered, he found
material for laughter. He showed by his excellent sense that men
of the highest quality who will set the finest examples may be
born in a land with a thick climate, peopled by boneheads. 50 He used to laugh at the
masses' worries, and at their pleasures, and sometimes, too, at
their tears. For himself, when Fortune threatened, he would
tell her go hang, and make a sign with his middle finger. So what in fact are the
useless or dangerous things that are sought, for which one must duly
cover the knees of the gods with wax? Some are sent hurtling down
by the virulent envy to which their power exposes them.
Their long and impressive list of achievements ruins them. Down come their
statues, obeying the pull of the rope. Thereupon, axe-blows rain
on the very wheels of their chariots, smashing them up; and the
legs of the innocent horses are broken.
60 Now the flames are hissing;
bellows and furnace are bringing a glow to the head revered
by the people. The mighty Sejanus is crackling. Then, from
the face regarded as number two in the whole of the world,
come pitchers, basins, saucepans, and piss-pots. Frame your door with
laurels; drag a magnificent bull, whitened with chalk, to the
Capitol. They're dragging Sejanus along by a hook for all to see.
Everyone's jubilant. 'Look, what lips he had! What a
face! You can take it from me that I never cared for the fellow. But
what was the charge that brought him down? Who informed, who gave him
away, what witnesses proved it?'
70 'Nothing like that. A
large, long-winded letter arrived from Capri.' 'Fine. ..I ask no more.' But what's the reaction of Remus' mob? It supports
the winner, as always, and turns on whoever is condemned. If
Nortia had smiled on her Tuscan favourite, if the elderly prince had
been caught off guard and sent to his death, that same public, at this very
moment, would be hailing Sejanus as Augustus. Long ago, the
people cast offits worries, when we stopped selling our
votes. A body that used to confer commands, legions, rods,
and everything else, has now narrowed
its scope, and is eager and anxious for two things only: 80 bread and races. (panem et circenses) 'I hear that a lot are
going to die. . 'No question about it. The
kitchen is sure to be hot. ' 'My
friend Bruttidius looked a bit
pale when I met him beside Mars' altar. I've an
awful feeling that the mortified Ajax may take revenge for being
exposed to danger. So now, as he lies by the river, let's all
run and kick the man who was Caesar's enemy. But check
that our slaves are watching; then no one can say we didn't. and drag his
terrified master to court with his head in a noose. , Such were
the whispers and the common gossip concerning Sejanus. Do you
want to be greeted each morning, as Sejanus was; 90 to
possess his wealth; to bestow on one a magistrate's chair. to
appoint another to an army command; to be seen as the guardian of Rome's
chief, as he sits on the narrow Rock of the Roedeers with his
herd of Chaldaeans? Of course you would like to have spears and cohorts, the cream
of the knights, and a barracks as part of your house. Why shouldn't you want
them? For even people with no desire to kill Covet the
power. But what is the good of prestige and prosperity if, for
every joy, they bring an equal sorrow? Would you
sooner wear the bordered robe of the man that you see there being
dragged along, or be a power in Fidenae or Gabii, 100 adjudicating
on weights and quantities, or a ragged aedile smashing
undersize measuring cups in empty Ulubrae? You
acknowledge. then, that Sejanus never succeeded in grasping what one
should really pray for. By craving ever more honours and
seeking ever more wealth. he was building a lofty tower of numerous storeys; which
meant that the fall would be all the greater, and that
when the structure gave way, its collapse would wreak devastation. What cast
down the likes of Pompey and Crassus, and him who tamed
the people of Rome and brought them under the lash? It was
the pursuit of the highest place by every device, 110 and
grandiose prayers, which were duly heard by malevolent gods. Few
monarchs go down-to Ceres' son-in-law free from bloody
wounds; few tyrants avoid a sticky death. Glorious
eloquence, such as Demosthenes and Cicero had- that is desired from the start,
and through Minerva ' s vacation, by the youngster who
worships the thrifty goddess, as yet with a coin, and who
has a slave in attendance to mind his diminutive satchel. Yet
eloquence proved the undoing of both those statesmen; and both were
carried to ruin by the large and copious flood of their genius. Thanks to
his genius, one had his hands and head cut off. 120 (The
rostrum was never stained with a petty advocate's blood. ) 'O
fortunate state of Rome, which dates from my consulate!' He could
have scorned Mark Antony's swords, had all his sayings been like
that. So-better to write ridiculous poems than that
inspired Philippic {the second one in the set) which is
universally praised. An equally cruel death removed
the man whose fluent power excited the wonder of
Athens, as he used his reins to drive the crowded assembly. The gods
in heaven frowned on his birth, and fate was against him. His
father, with eyes inflamed by the soot of the glowing metal, 130 sent him
away from the coal and tongs, and the anvil that fashions swords,
and all the filth of Vulcan, to a rhetoric tutor. The
spoils of war -a breastplate nailed
to the trunk of a tree shorn of its
branches, a cheekpiece dangling from a shattered helmet, a
chariot's yoke with its pole snapped off, a pennant ripped from a
crippled warship, a dejected prisoner on top of an arch- these, it
is thought, represent superhuman blessings, and these are the
things that stir a general, be he Greek, Roman, or foreign, to
excitement; they provide a justification for all his toil
and peril. So much stronger is the thirst for glory 140 than for
goodness. (Who, in fact, embraces Goodness herself, if you
take away the rewards?) Often states have been ruined by a few
men's greed for fame, by their passion for praise and for titles inscribed in the stones
protecting their ashes-stones which the boorish strength
of the barren fig-tree succeeds in splitting apart; for even
funeral monuments have their allotted life-span. Weigh
Hannibal; how many pounds will you find in that mighty commander?
This is the man too big for Africa-a land which is
pounded by the Moorish sea and extends to the steaming Nile, then
south to Ethiopia's tribes and their different elephants. 150 He
annexes Spain to his empire, and dances lightly across the
Pyrenees; then nature bars his path with the snowy Alps; by vinegar's
aid he splits the rocks and shatters the mountains. Italy now
is within his grasp; but he still presses on. 'Nought
is achieved, ' he cries, 'until I have smashed the gates with my
Punic troops, and raised our flag in the central Subura!' Lord,
what a sight! It would surely have made an amazing picture: the
one-eyed general riding on his huge Gaetulian beast. So how
does the story end? Alas for glory! Our hero is
beaten. He scrambles away into exile, and there he sits 160 in the
hall of the monarch's palace, a great and conspicuous client, until it
shall please his Bithynian lord to greet the day. That soul
which once convulsed the world will meet its end, not from
a sword, or stones, or spears, but from an object which,
avenging Cannae, will take reprisal for all that bloodshed
a ring. Go on, you maniac; charge through the Alpine wastes to
entertain a class of boys and become an oration! A single world is not
enough for the youth of Pella. He frets and chafes at the
narrow limits set by the globe, as though
confined on Gyara's rocks or tiny Seriphos. 170 Yet, when
he enters the city that was made secure by its potters, he will rest content with a
coffin. It is only death which reveals the puny size ofhuman
bodies. People believe that ships once sailed over
Athos, and all the lies that Greece has the nerve to tell in
her histories; that the sea was covered with boats, and the ocean provided a
solid surface for wheels. We believe deep rivers failed, that
streams were all drunk dry by the Persians at lunch, and whatever
Sostratus sings with his soaking pinions. Yet in what state did the
king return on leaving Salamis- the one
who would vent his savage rage on Corus and Eurus 180 with
whips, an outrage never endured in Aeolus' cave, the one who bound the
earth-shaking god himself with fetters (that, indeed, was somewhat
mild; why he even considered he deserved a branding!
What god would be slave to a man like that?)- yet in what state did he
return? In a solitary warship, slowly pushing its way through the
bloody waves which were thick with corpses. Such is the price so often
claimed by our coveted glory. Jupiter' grant me a lengthy
life and many a year!' Whether you arc hale or
wan, that is your only prayer. Yet think of the endless
and bitter afflictions that always attend 190 a long old age. First and
foremost, look at the face- misshapen and hideous
beyond recognition; instead of skin, you see a misshaapen hide,
baggy cheeks, and the kind of wrinkles that are etched
on the aged jowls of an African ape, where Thabraca stretches
its shady forests along the coast. Young men vary in numerous ways-A
is more handsome than B and has different
features; C is more sturdy than D . Old men are all alike-trembling
in body and voice, with a pate that is now
quite smooth, and the running nose of an infant. The poor old
fellow must mumble his bread with toothless gums. 200 He is so
repellent to all (wife, children, and himself), that he
even turns the stomach of Cossus the legacy-hunter . He loses
his former zest for food and wine as his palate grows
numb. He has long forgotten what sex was like; if one tries to remind him, his shrunken
tool, with its vein enlargcd,just lies there, . and,
though caressed all night, it will continue to lie there. As for
the future, what can those white-haired ailing organs hope for?
Moreover, the lust that, in spite o impotence, struggles to gain
satisfaction, is rightly suspect. And now consider the loss
of another faculty. What joy does he get from a singer, 210 however
outstanding, or from the harpist Seleucus and others who as
harpists or pipers always shine in golden mantles? What does
it matter where he sits in the spacious theatre, when he
can barely hear the sound of the horns or the fanfare of trumpets?
The slave announcing a caller's arrival or telling the time
is obliged to shout in his ear to make himself heard. Again, so
little blood remains in his chilly veins that he's
only warm when he has a fever. All kinds of ailments band
together and dance around him. If you asked their names I could
sooner tell you how many lovers Oppia has taken, 220 how many
patients Themison has killed in a single autumn, how many partners have been
swindled by Basilus, how many minors by Hirms,
how many men are drained in a single day by the
tall Maura, how many schoolboys are debauched by Hamillus. I could
sooner count the country houses now possessed by the fellow who made my
stiff young beard crunch with his clippers. Here it's
a shoulder crippled, there a pelvis or hip; this man has lost both eyes, and
envies the fellow with one; that takes food with bloodless
lips from another's fingers. He used
to bare his teeth in greed at the sight of a dinner; 230 now he
merely gapes like a swallow's chick when its mother alights
with a beakful, going without herself. And yet, worse
than any physical loss is the mental decay which
cannot remember servants' names, nor the face of the friend with whom
he dined the previous evening, nor even the children, his very
own, whom he raised himself. By a cruel will he
forbids his flesh and blood to inherit, and all his possessions go to Phiale.
So potent the breath of that artful mouth which
stood on sale for many years in the cell of a brothel. Suppose
his mind retains its vigour, he still must walk 24 in front
of his children's coffins, and bear to gaze on the pyre of his
beloved wife or brother and on urns full of his sisters. This is
the price of longevity. As people age, the disasters within
their homes for ever recur; grief follows grief; their
sorrows never cease, and their dress is the black of mourning. The king
of Pylos, if you place any trust in mighty Homer, stood for
a life which was second only to that of a crow. No doubt
he was happy. Postponing death for three generations, he began
to count his years upon his right hand's fingers; he drank
new wine at many a harvest. But listen a little, 250 I urge
you, to the bitter complaints which he makes at the laws of fate and his
own protracted thread, as he watches the beard of the valiant Antilochus
blazing, and appeals to all his friends who arc therc to tell
him why he should have survived to the present age, and what
crime he has committed to deserve so long a life. Peleus
did the same as he mourned the death of Achilles; and so
did the other, who rightly lamented the Ithacan swimmer. Troy would still have been
standing when Priam went down to join the
shades of Assaracus-Cassandra and Polyxena, tearing their garments, would
have led the ritual cries of lament! while Hector, along with 260 his many
brothers, would have shouldered the body and carried it out with
magnificent pomp amid the tears of Ilium ' s daughters- had Priam
died at an earlier time, a time when Paris had not
as yet begun to build his intrepid fleet. Therefore
what boon did his great age bring him? He lived to see everything
wrecked, and Asia sinking in flame and steel. Then,
removing his crown, he took arms, a doddering soldier, and
slumped by the altar of highest love like a worn-out ox, which is
scorned by the ungrateful plough after all its years of service and
offers its scraggy pathetic neck to its master's blade. 270 His was
at least the end of a human being; the wife who
survived him became a vicious bitch, snarling and barking. I hasten
on to our countrymen, passing over the king of Pontus,
and Croesus too, whom the righteous Solon exhorted in
eloquent words to watch the close of a long-run life. Exile,
prison walls, the dreary swamps of Minturnae, begging
for bread in the ruins of Carthage-it all resulted from
living too long. What could nature, what could Rome have brought
forth upon earth more blest than that famous man, if, after
leading around the city his host of captives 280 and all
the parade of war, he had breathed his last at the moment of
greatest glory , when poised to leave his Teutonic car? With
kindly foresight, Campania gave a desirable fever to
Pompey; however, the public prayers of numerous cities prevailed;
so Pompey's fortune and that of the capital saved his life
- but only to cut it off in defeat. Such mangling Lentulus
missed; Cethegus avoided that fate and was killed without
mutilation; Catiline lay with his corpse entire. When she
passes Venus temple, the anxious mother requests beauty-in
a quiet voice for her sons, more loudly for her daughters, 290 going to
fanciful lengths in her prayers. 'So I do, ' she says, 'what's
wrong with that? Latona delights in Diana's beauty.' But Lucretia discourages
people from praying for looks of the kind which she had herself:
Verginia would welcome Rutila's hump and bestow her own
appearance on her. It's the
same with a son; if he possesses physical
charm, his parents are always in a state of wretched
anxiety. For it's true that beauty and virtue are
rarely found together. Although he may come from a home which
instills pure habits and is just as strict as the Sabines of old, although
generous Nature may add with a kindly hand 300 the gift
of an innocent heart and a face that burns with modest blushes (what greater boon
can a boy receive from Nature, who has more authority than
any caring parent or guardian?), he is not allowed to become
a man. A wealthy seducer with brazen effrontery
actually dares to approach the parents. Such is the confidence
placed in bribes. No ugly youngster was ever
castrated by a despot within his barbarous castle, Nero
would never rape a stripling with bandy legs or
scrofula, or one with a swollen belly and a crooked back. I
challenge you now to rejoice in your son's good looks! And greater 310 hazards
still are ahead. He'll become a lover at large; then he
will have to fear whatever reprisals a furious husband
may take. (He can hardly hope to have better luck than the
ill-starred Mars; he too will be caught in the net. ) Moreover, such
anger sometimes exacts more than is granted to anger by any
law. Thus one is cut down by a dagger; another is cut up
by a bloody whip; some make room for a mullet. Your
young Endymion will fall for a married lady and become her
lover. And then, once he has taken Servilia's cash, he will
do it to one for whom he cares nothing, stripping her body 320 of all
its jewellery. For what will any woman deny to her
clammy crotch? She may be an Oppia or a Catulla, but when
she's rotten, that is the centre of all her conduct. 'What
harm is beauty to onc who is pure?' Ask rather what profit was gained by Hippolytus,
or by Bellerophon, from his stern convictions. < Phaedra and Sthenoboea
> She blushed with shame at
the rebuff, as though despised for her looks; Sthenoboea,
too, was just as incensed as the woman of Crete. They
lashed themselves, both, to fury; a woman is at her most savage when
goaded to hatred by an injured pride. Decide what advice you think should be offered
to the man whom Caesar's wife is determined 330 to marry.
He's a fine fellow of excellent birth, and extremely handsome;
but the luckless wretch is being swept to his death by
Messalina's eyes. She has long been sitting there, all prepared in her
flaming veil; a purple bed stands open to view in the
grounds. A dowry of a million will be paid in the old ancestral manner; a
priest will come with people to witness the contract. Perhaps
you thought all this was a secret known to a few? Not at
all; she insists on a proper ceremony. State your decision. Unless
you're willing to obey her commands, you must die before dusk. If you go
through with the crime, there will be a respite until 340 what is
known to all and sundry reaches the emperor's ear. He'll be
the last to hear of his family's shame; in the meantime do what
you're told, if you rate a few days' extra life as highly
as that. Whatever you judge to be the more easy and
better course, that fine white neck must bow to the sword. Is there
nothing, then, that people should pray for? If you want some advice, you will let the heavenly
powers themselves determine what blessings are most
appropriate to us and best suit our condition; for
instead of what's pleasant, the gods will always provide what's fitting. They care
more for man than he cares for himself; for we 350 are
driven by the force of emotion, a blind overmastering impulse, when we
yearn for marriage and a wife who will give us children; the gods, however,
foresee what the wife and children are going to be like. Still,
that you may have something to ask for-some reason to offer the holy
sausages and innards of a little white pig in a chapel- you ought
to pray for a healthy mind in a healthy body. (orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.) Ask for a
valiant heart which has banished the fear of death, which
looks upon length of days as one of the least of nature's gifts; which
is able to suffer every kind of hardship, is proof against
anger, craves for nothing, and reckons the trials 360 and
gruelling labours of Hercules as more desirable blessings than the amorous ease and
the banquets and cushions of Sardanapallus. The
things that I recommend you can grant to yourself; it is certain that the
tranquil life can only be reached by the path of goodness. Lady
Luck, if the truth were known, you possess no power; it is we
who make you a goddess and give you a place in heaven.
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