Happy holidays? Seneca, Epistles 2.18.1-4
Seneca doesn't want
to party too hard over the holidays. Keep something back. Don't use
all the license others give you; it won't end well.
December est
mensis: cum maxime civitas sudat. Ius luxuriae publicae datum est;
ingenti apparatu sonant omnia, tamquam quicquam inter Saturnalia
intersit et dies rerum agendarum; adeo nihil interest ut videatur
(‡) mihi errasse qui dixit olim mensem Decembrem fuisse, nunc
annum. Si te hic haberem, libenter tecum conferrem quid existimares
esse faciendum, utrum nihil ex cotidiana consuetudine movendum an, ne
dissidere videremur cum publicis moribus, et hilarius cenandum et
exuendam togam. Nam quod fieri nisi in tumultu et tristi tempore
civitatis non solebat, voluptatis causa ac festorum dierum vestem
mutavimus. Si te bene novi, arbitri partibus functus nec per omnia
nos similes esse pilleatae turbae voluisses nec per omnia dissimiles;
nisi forte his maxime diebus animo imperandum est, ut tunc
voluptatibus solus abstineat cum in illas omnis turba procubuit;
certissimum enim argumentum firmitatis suae capit, si ad blanda et in
luxuriam trahentia nec it nec abducitur. Hoc multo fortius est, ebrio
ac vomitante populo siccum ac sobrium esse, illud temperantius, non
excerpere se nec insignire nec misceri omnibus et eadem sed non eodem
modo facere; licet enim sine luxuria agere festum diem.
It's now December,
the month when cityfolk sweat most. License has been given to public
luxury. Everywhere the air resounds with massive preparations, as if
anything could matter in the interval that separates today's business
from the Saturnalia (†). But it's all so tedious that I must find
fault with the observation someone once made, that December used to
be just a month, but has since become an entire year unto itself. If I had
you here, I would gladly consult your judgment on what we must do:
whether we should alter our normal routine, taking festive dinners
and doffing our togas to avoid any appearance that we reject public
morals, or not. As matters stand, holidays and pleasure have achieved
what only happens otherwise in days of riot or public mourning, and
we have changed our clothes. If I know you well, your judgment would
be that we should not resemble the skull-capped mob (*) entirely, nor
look utterly unlike them, either. But maybe it is necessary to rule
the mind more in these days, so that it may stand on its own, aloof
from the pleasures into which the entire people has fallen prostrate.
Certainly the surest proof of the mind's strength appears when it
resists the sweet things that draw us into luxury, refusing to go
after them itself or to be led away after them by others. It shows
great strength to remain dry and sober among folk so drunk that they
begin to overflow, but an even greater sign of temperance is the
ability to make no exception of oneself, neither to stand apart from
celebration nor to become lost in it: to do what all are doing, but
not in the same way. It is possible to celebrate a holiday without
wicked luxury.
---
(‡) Some MSS read
ut non videatur here, but I
prefer those that omit the negative. If it is added, then Seneca's
complaint shifts: “But it's all so tedious that I cannot find fault
with the observation someone once made, that December used to be just a month, but has since become an entire year unto itself.”
(†)
This Roman festival dedicated to the god Saturn began with a public
sacrifice and banquet, after which people celebrated privately with
gift-exchanges and parties. Slaves were allowed
more than usual freedom by their masters,
gambling and drinking to excess were normal, and games
were played—including the game of choosing a king to provide orders
for the revelers (cf. Tacitus, Annals 13.15).
By Seneca's time, the festival had been extended to last from the
17th
of December to the 23rd.
(*)
Roman revelers commonly wore skull-caps (pillei, pillea) as part of the 'holiday
outfit' of the Saturnalia. These hats were worn in other contexts,
too—notably by slaves undergoing the ritual of manumission, which
set them free. As an emblem of the goddess Libertas, the cap
signified freedom or license.