_The desire of posthumous fame is vain and futile._
XCI. There is no appetite or craving of man can be more irrational, than
that, which is directed to an object he can never taste of or enjoy; and
such a one, is the desire of having his name become famous in the world
after his death. When a man is dead, every thing here that respects
himself dies also; and what advantage can it be of to him after his
decease, that all the world burst forth in acclamations and applauses of
his great deeds and talents? The smoke of all this incense vanishes in
the air, nor can the least particle of it, touch or affect him to whom
it is offered. He feels no more of the praises of his virtues, than a
statue; nor is he any more sensible of the celebrations of his grandeur,
than an edifice that is erected to perpetuate it. If his works were
pleasing in the eye of God, and he is in the regions of rest, he may
feel the satisfaction of having left a good example to the world; and
all that passes out of that sphere, let the celebrations of the world
be what they will, can be of no avail to him. He will either despise,
or be totally ignorant of the eulogiums that are bestowed on him by
mortals. What convenience or what satisfaction, do either Alexander and
Cæsar now enjoy, from being applauded through the globe for the two
most illustrious warriors of the world? Homer and Virgil, from being
celebrated as the two most elegant poets? and Cicero and Demosthenes,
from being admired as the two most eloquent orators? They are perhaps
entirely ignorant of all that is said of them here; and if they are
permitted to know it, it is most likely, that such knowledge tends more
to torment than please them. Empedocles was certainly a great mad-man,
if, according to what some have said of him, he precipitated himself
into the flames of Mount Ætna, in order that the world upon not finding
his body, should imagine he had ascended up to heaven, and would worship
him as a deity. This philosopher however, as he was a follower of the
Pythagorean system, and believed the transmigration of souls, might
expect, that by his being placed successively in a variety of bodies,
he should hereafter view with great pleasure, the worship and adoration
that was paid to him in this world; but what enjoyment of this sort can
a man hope for, who believes that when he leaves these regions, he shall
never return to them again? And what can it be to such a man, whether
he is worshiped or forgotten? Thus the emperor Adrian was much madder
than Empedocles, who without believing in the doctrine of transmigration,
erected temples and altars, and appointed priests, making provision
at the same time for maintaining them, and providing victims to be
sacrificed to his infamous little idol Antinous. Of what service could
all this be to that disgraced and unfortunate boy? And we may make the
same observation, on the apotheosis and ridiculous deification of the
Roman Emperors. Vespasian, although he expected this farce after his
death, would be played over with respect to him, treated the thing with
the scorn it deserved, by saying to those who surrounded him when he was
near his end, _I feel as if I was going to be converted from a man into a
deity_.
XCII. That mankind should be desirous of seeing themselves applauded,
and their names honoured while living, seems very natural, because they
may find a gratification in it; but that they should be anxious for
posthumous honours, which they can neither taste or enjoy, seems to
bespeak a disordered imagination, and a distempered brain. Ovid paints
Sappho, as feeling great satisfaction, at seeing her muse celebrated by
all the world.
_At mihi Pegasides blandissima carmina dictant;_
_Jam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum._
Thus far he expressed himself very properly, because he spoke in the name
of Sappho while she was living, and might be supposed to be gratified
by, and pleased with the aromatic fumes of those acclamations. But he
reasoned very ill, when speaking of Hercules and Theseus, he reckoned as
a balance for the loss of those heroes, the applauses the world would
bestow on their memories:
_Occidit et Theseus, et qui tumulavit Orestem;_
_Sed tamen in laudes vivit uterque suas._
XCIII. The eulogiums of the dead, can only be enjoyed by the living. The
relations, the friends, and the country of the deceased, divide among
themselves the whole fragrancy of this grateful gale, nor can the least
breath of it reach the region, which is inhabited by those who depart
hence. There remains to the dead but one happy lot, and that is derived
from, and depends on their having died well. _Beati mortui, qui in Domino
moriuntur._