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Updated: May 31, 2025
Certainly to-day there is stress in the cryptic laboratory of Time. A great thing is dead; but, as that sagacious Roman noted: "haud igitur penitus pereunt quaecumque videntur, quando alid ex alio reficit natura nec ullam rem gigni patitur nisi morte adiuta aliena." And do not the Impressionists, with their power of creating works of art that stand on their own feet, bear in their arms a new age?
Architecture had no special interest for him, and the history of church or faith could seldom touch his emotions; but the glorious handiwork of men long dead, the solemn stillness of an ancient sanctuary, made that appeal to him which is independent of names. 'Pereunt et imputantur. He sat down where the soft, slow ticking of the clock could guide his thoughts.
Another a siren smiling when the sea rageth and ships are ouerwhelmed, including a cruell woman, that laughs, singes and scornes at her louers tears, and the tempests of his despaire, the word Cuncta pereunt, all my labor is ill imploid. A third being troubled with a curst, a trecherous and wanton wanton wife, vsed this similitude.
Natheles, Saint Augustine and Saint Gregory say thus: Augustinus: QUI SCELERA SUA COGITAT, & CONVERSUS FUERIT, VENIAM SIBI CREDAT. Gregorius: DOMINUS POTIUS MENTEM QUAM VERBA RESPICIT. And Saint Hilary saith: LONGORUM TEMPORUM CRIMINA, IN ICTU OCULI PEREUNT, SI CORDIS NATA FUERIT COMPUNCTIO. And for such authorities they say, that only to God shall a man knowledge his defaults, yielding himself guilty and crying him mercy, and behoting to him to amend himself.
They provided French clocks with a singularly clear metallic striking tick; their blows upon the life of Time rang sharp above the chant, the mumble, and the jingle. These clocks seemed to cry aloud, and say of the hours, whose waste they recorded, "Pereunt et impu-tantur, pere unt et imputantur."
There were two; I will not say they contradicted one another, but they looked at life from different points of view. "Pereunt et imputantur," I read. "Well, what's that, Mr. Carter?" "A trite, but offensive, assertion," said I, lighting a cigarette. "But what does it mean?" she asked, a pucker on her forehead. "What does it matter?" said I. "Let's try the other." "The other is longer."
At all ages the scholar, looking round him at tasks which exceed the capacity of a lifetime, has been avaricious of the hours 'labuntur anni', 'pereunt et imputantur' ever in his thoughts: and though the world of old moved slower, the man of business has rarely belied his name. A more plausible explanation is that the custom has died of surfeit.
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