Book 3, letter 14, part 1 of 2 To Marcus Aurelius; on the eclipse of the sun

Dear Marcus,

The stress is unbearable sometimes. My arms feel like blocks of stone, I cannot lift my boulder hands from the bed, my legs, my head, all of me feels like crumbling granite. I struggle to breathe, like some leaden creature sits atop my chest choking me.

There is nothing worse than uncertainty.

Doom, I can handle,

but the uncertainty of an eclipse is unbearable.

For weeks the sun has shone upon me with its love, then in the blink of sleep, the light and warmth are replaced with an empty smile, a face always turning away, eyes that do not want to look, a voice that does not want to speak to me.

And every real expression becomes pretended.

What can I do Marcus? The past will never let go. Vulnerant omens, ultima necant. (Every hour wounds, the last one kills). What can I do with my echoing words that, once said, can never be taken back ? Forgiveness? Impossible. Forgetting? Impossible. What remains is the lingering feeling that I cannot tell right from wrong, I feel lost. I question my value as a human being, and find comfort in the fading bruises and persistent pain in my head each morning. Fighting with myself is a loosing battle.

*

From: Meditations

Book 10, Section 3

(Hays Translation)

Every thing that happens is either endurable or not.

If it’s endurable, then endure it. Stop complaining.

If it’s unendurable . . . then stop complaining.

Your destruction will mean its end as well.

Just remember: you can endure anything your mind can

make endurable, by treating it as in your interest to do so.

In your interest, or in your nature.

*

My destruction will mean its end as well huh? I really want this to be the advice that I need, but I do not have the luxury of self destruction, Marcus.

I have a life to live and a family to raise. I cannot endure in silence while the sun goes cold. At least I have you to write to, even if sometimes your advice is not so good. My stomach hurts.

*

From: Meditations.

Book 8, Section 47

“If thou art pained by any external thing, it is not this thing that disturbs thee, but thy own judgement about it. And it is in thy power to wipe out this judgement now. But if anything in thy disposition gives thee pain, who hinders thee from correcting thy opinion?”

It would be lovely if willpower alone could free a person from the bondage of their own mind, but the mind is not the only thing that remembers. The Body, the damn body stores everything, forgets nothing. Such discordant music the bones of my past mistakes compose, clattering as a broken xylophone in the sack of my living flesh. My disposition would free itself if it knew anything of freedom.

Who is it that hinders me from correcting my opinion?

It is easier for me to believe in demons and curses and the terrors of a personal eclipse, than it is for me to wipe away the judgement of a sun who refuses to shine on me.

So much is out of my hands, Marcus. I feel powerless.

Book 3, Letter 13 Part 3 of 3 To Caesar, on the Civil War.

Hail Caesar,

I have this idea, about the notion of consensus reality. It feels like there is very little consensus in my own era. The level of discussion, argument and flat out fighting over definitions, boundaries and ideologies seems to hum at a constant pitch just short of piercing. I find very little to rely upon as absolute truth. Working on the farm is about as good as it gets for me. I drive the shovel into the soil, I pluck the fruit from the tree, I trim the edges of the hedge, I plant the seeds. I cannot dispute the reality of cause and effect in the world of my work. It is very reassuring.

I say all this as a way to introduce the concept of consensus reality. What are the agreed upon facts of the situation? The whole story of you, of Julius Caesar, is wrapped up in a discussion about what we can accept as the truth.

You, Caesar, give us your version of reality, and after two thousand years we still rely upon it. We still discuss it, dispute it, debate and laugh about it. By writing this book, you defined the centre of the consensus. You walked in the middle of your own story, and by writing it down you continue, in immortality, to define the history of these events. We piece it together with others writing, we cross reference and disprove and prove, but through all of that what we are doing is learning the lessons you wanted to teach us.

Caesar, this book is what you wanted us to know about the Civil War. It's what you wanted everyone around you to know, and to believe to be true. This book is of course, a masterful piece of military/political propaganda, but it is also the thoughts and beliefs of one Julius Caesar, telling a story about the reality of your life. You made the consensus we now orbit. Amidst the lack of agreement, division, disagreement and war of your own era, you laid down the centre-path of your own reality. You sold it, worked it, promoted it and lived it to the bloody end.

Your book is a version of the truth that we, your readers, can agree or disagree with. By comparing your version of the story, with Cicero's, I find that if neither perspective can be said to be absolute truth, the middle ground, the space in dispute between your two perspectives, can be said to be the territory where the truth rests. I like to imagine truth to be an invisible space existing between the boundaries of many perspectives. I cannot ever really see it, but I can describe its edges.

Part 2. 5 “From the camp of Gaius Trebonius and from all the high ground it was easy to look into the city and to see how all the men of military age who had remained in the town, all the older men, and the wives and children, were stretching their hands to heaven in the public squares or at the look-out points or on the wall, or were going to the temples of the immortal gods and prostrating themselves in front of the statues of the gods and begging for victory.”

Did you really see this at the siege of Masillia? I can see it in my mind. You have a strange way of describing your enemies, Caesar. You never insult them. You might say hard or harsh things, but you never stoop to insults. You tend to the reverse, making note of your enemies valour, courage and ferocity. It is a good trait, I will admit, it makes me like you more.

“My aim is to outdo others in justice and equity, as I have previously striven to outdo them in achievement.”

The cynic would argue that this statement too is only a piece of political showmanship, a way to cover the realpolitik of your goal to achieve dictatorship. War is a savage and prolonged series of public slaughters, and you were the lord of war. War is also a massive complex collision of maths, geography, and psychology. A good commander must be able to understand the motivations of his own soldiers, and that of the enemy. A good commander would know exactly what to write, and exactly to whom he was writing – this is military marketing at its best.

However, the legends of the Civil War, as you tell them, can only fall short of the truth. The discussion then, is really about how far from the truth your story is.

So, I will end my letter here, Caesar, (though the discussion is far from over...). I have just read chapter 3, of part 3: 'Trouble in Italy'. This chapter is only two pages long, but I think that I will need a whole letter to discuss the massive events you describe therein.

With Gratitude and Respect.

Morgan.

Book 3, Letter 13, Part 2 of 3. To Caesar on the Civil War

Hail Caesar,

Part 3 of your book begins with your first actions as Dictator in Rome. You were first elected as Consul, then you recalled from exile a few compatriots whom you considered to have been unfairly judged under an old law of Pompey.

Your next act as dictator was to abdicate the position.

I love this. My son told me a story recently about a peculiar piece of Catholic church history, regarding the forced election of a peasant to the position of Pope. His first and only act as supreme leader, was to pass a law making it possible for a Pope to resign from the position. He then quit.

This seems the mark of a good dictator, particularly in Rome which has a history of the office of dictator being granted upon individuals by the vote of free citizens. Absolute power doesn't seem to be your goal, at least not yet. When you were granted the dictatorship you used it to repeal a law you considered unjust, and then you returned authority to the Senate. Of course, this act must have also freed you from the obligation to remain in Rome, allowing you to take your army on the march again. Still, it seems like a good move.

A little later on, after crossing the sea with your army from Brundisium to Palaeste, you sent another message to Pompey:

Part 3. 10. “Both of us ought to stop being obstinate, disarm, and not tempt fortune further. We have both suffered enough damage to serve as a lesson and a warning, and make us fear the ills that still remain. You have been driven from Italy, you have lost Sicily, Sardinia and both the Spanish in provinces, and 130 cohorts of Roman citizens in Italy and Spain (about 65,00 men). I have suffered the death of Curio, the loss of the African army and the surrender of Antonius and his men at Corcyra Nigra. Let us therefore spare both ourselves and Rome; our own losses have given us enough proof of the power of fortune in war. This is the best time of all to discuss peace, while we are both confident and appear equally matched; but if fortune should favour one, only a little, the one who seems the better off will have nothing to do with terms of peace, nor will he be satisfied with an equal share, when he believes he can have everything. As for the conditions of peace, since we ourselves have been unable to reach a settlement up till now, we should ask the Senate and people at Rome to frame terms. Meanwhile, it should content the State and ourselves if we at once swear publicly to dismiss our armies within three days. When he have laid down our arms and the support on which we now rely, then we shall perforce be content with the decisions of the Senate and people. So that you can agree to this the more readily, I undertake to dismiss all my forces on land and in the various cities.”

But, Caesar, this attempt at negotiations failed as well. It seems that Pompey preferred the most unjust war, to any kind of just peace.

Part3. 18 “Once the flurry caused by Caesar's sudden arrival had subsided, Vibullius, as soon as appeared practicable, called in Libo and Lucceius and Theophanes, Pompey's principal confidential advisers, and began to discuss Caesar's proposals. He had barely started when Pompey interrupted and forbade him to say any more. 'What do I want,' he said, 'with life or citizenship which I shall appear to possess by Caesar's good grace? And that will be the ineradicable impression, if people think that I have been brought back to Italy, which I left voluntarily.' Caesar learned of this after the end of the war from persons who were present at the conversation. None the less he went on trying by other means to have conferences to discuss peace.”

Caesar, it has been said that your truce offerings to Pompey were made with the full knowledge that Pompey would refuse them, and that you did in fact make such stipulations as you knew would absolutely lead to war. Considering this, your magnanimous gestures look like any other political manoeuvre. Everything in your book, Caesar, is double-speak, and I must remember this at all times.

There's nothing civil about civil war.

Book 3, Letter 13 Part 1 of 3. To Caesar, on the Civil War

Hail Caesar,

I'm reading your book on the Civil war. I've read Cicero's letters covering the year leading up to your crossing of the Rubicon, and of the months afterwards during which you marched into Rome. Cicero expresses nothing short of terror and alarm. His whole world is falling apart around him, his family are in Rome, fearing for their lives, while he is sent away on official business by the Senate. His loyalty to Pompey seems to me to be utterly misplaced. Cicero seems to know that he is choosing a path doomed to failure. After the generations of corruption, assassination and civil strife preceding this year, 49-50BCE, it seems plain to me, as I think it was plain to you Caesar, that the Senate were never going to change their ways. The utter disdain with which the Optimates treated the other citizens of Rome, and especially those in the provinces, had no cure other than through force. (Though force can hardly be said to have cured the problem either....)

It is sad that my friend Cicero, as wise, compassionate, thoughtful and intelligent as he was, could not see that the Republic he dreamed of was little more than a historical fiction. The rule of law was simply a tool of oppression, and he seems to be the eloquent mouthpiece of the overlords who sought nothing short of the continuation of an unjust rule over their subject populations.

In my last letter to you Caesar, I talked about the problems of bias and perspective. These problems linger, intensifying in the light of your self praise, but also the praise to grant your enemies. It is peculiar the way in which you describe your enemies, not as villains, but as Romans. You, Caesar, are famous for your mercy and forgiveness, while your enemies, the supporters of the old guard, seem to commit horrible acts of violence against all who oppose them. However, as I turn the pages of your book, the stink of propaganda is never far away.

Yet, despite knowing that your book, Caesar, is propaganda, (and thus, bound to show you in the best possible light...) it actually feels as if Pompey knew that he was in the wrong, fighting for a cause that had long since lost any real moral value. In reading Cicero's letters, and in reading Plutarch, both seem to back up the overall picture you describe, as to people, and it is the people in this story that interest me the most.

Pompey's unwillingness to come to terms with you and to allow peace to prevail seems to be the behaviour of a man whose only concern is to not loose face before you. His, and his supporters refusal to meet with you, claiming that you wished for nothing short of kingship, seems to be a smokescreen excuse, a political distraction technique designed to mislead people into a war.

You put it this way:

Part 1. 9. “However, I am ready to submit to anything and to put up with anything for the sake of Rome. My terms are these: Pompey shall go to his provinces; we shall both disband our armies; there shall be complete demobilisation in Italy; the regime of terror shall cease; there shall be free elections and the Senate and the Roman people shall be in full control of the government. To facilitate this and fix the terms and ratify them with an oath, I suggest that Pompey either comes to me or allows me to meet him. By submitting our differences to mutual discussion, we shall settle them all.”

But Pompey wouldn't meet with you. Wouldn't disband his armies. He demanded that you leave Italy while he continued to levy more troops. Your account of these months make you seem like a passionate peacemaker, desperate to avoid a civil war, but you were rejected at every opportunity. It is said that Rome conquered the world in self defence....it seems that you became a dictator despite your efforts to avoid such an outcome. In defeating the dictatorial powers of Pompey, did you become the monster you had to slay?

In a speech before the Senate, you declared:

Part 1. 32. “I was wronged by the confiscation of two of my legions; I was insulted and outraged by the interference with the rights of the tribunes; yet I offered terms, asked for a meeting – and I was refused. Therefore I earnestly ask you to join with me now in taking over the government of Rome; if timidity makes you shrink from the task, I shall not trouble you – I shall govern by myself. Envoys must be sent to Pompey to discuss terms. I am not frightened by his recent statement in this assembly that the sending of deputations merely enhances the prestige of those to whom they are sent and reveals the fears of the senders. These are the reflections of of a weak and petty spirit. My aim is to outdo others in justice and equity, as I have previously striven to outdo them in achievement.”

*

Caesar, there is so much that I would like to talk about regarding the Spanish Campaign and the siege of Massilia, but there is one little detail that shows something about the nature of civil war generally, and of the nature of the Pompeian camp, specifically. While your forces were detained in the siege of Masillia, Varro, a commander under Pompey, was levying troops throughout the whole province and tightening his grip over the people.

Part 2. 17. “If he judged any communities to be friendly to Caesar, he imposed heavier burdens on them, installed garrisons and arranged for the trial of private individuals; if anyone was alleged to have spoken against the Roman State, that person's property was confiscated. He forced the whole province to swear allegiance to himself and Pompey.”

It seems a hallmark of all totalitarian authority, to react with terror to any hint of opposition, and to use the law to punish citizens for the exercise of free speech. It is happening,by degrees, in my own country now, as our once proud democracy is being quietly submerged in the terrifying anxiety of neo-fascism, dressed as usual in the flag of nationalism. I try to remember always that the word 'stasis', is just the old Greek word for Civil War. These tensions are ever present. My situation is not unique.

Book 3, Letter 12, Part 4 of 4. To Cicero on the Civil War

Dear Cicero,

On January 4^th, 49 BCE, you arrived outside Rome, returning from Cilicia, but you had to wait to enter on account of your potential Triumph. Around the same time, Caesar crossed the Rubicon. On the 12 of January, you wrote a letter to Tiro expressing the situation as you found it.

CCC

To Tiro

January 12^th, 49 BCE

“I arrived at the city walls on the 4^th of January. Nothing could be more complimentary than the procession that came out to meet me; but I found things in a blaze of civil discord, or rather, civil war.”

Then, on the 17^th, you wrote to Atticus, who was actually in Rome as this all occurred.

CCCII

To Atticus

January 17^th, 49 BCE

I have suddenly resolved to leave town before daybreak, to avoid all gazing and gossip, especially with my bay-decked lictors. For the rest, I don't know, by heaven, what to do now or in the future : such is the agitation into which I am thrown by the infatuation of our party's most insane decision. But what counsel should I offer you, you whose advice I am myself anxious to receive? What plan our Gnaeus (Pompey) has adopted, or is adopting, I don't know : as yet he is cooped up in the towns and in a state of lethargy. If he makes a stand in Italy, we shall all be together : if he abandons it, I shall have to reconsider the matter.”

The current global refugee crisis comes to mind as I read your next letter, for as you fled Rome, headed for your senate appointed position in Capua, you left your wife and daughter behind, while taking your son with you. You had to make decisions regarding their safety at a time when to flee was a sign of opposition to Caesar, but to stay was to risk remaining in a city when an occupying army marched in.

CCCV

To Terentia and Tullia

January 22^nd 49 BCE

I think, my darlings, you should carefully consider and reconsider what to do, whether to stay at Rome, or to join me, or to seek some place of safety. This is not a point for my consideration alone, but for yours also. What occurs to me is this : you may be safe at Rome under Dollabella's protection (Tullia's new husband), and that circumstance may prove serviceable to us in case of any violence or plunder commencing. But, on the other hand, I am shaken in this idea by seeing that all the loyalists have left Rome and have the ladies of their families with them. Again, the district in which I am now consists of towns and estates also which are in my power, so you could be a good deal with me, and, if you quitted me, could very conveniently stay in domains belonging to us. I cannot as yet quite make up my mind which of the two is the better course for you to take. Please observe for yourselves what other ladies of your rank are doing, and be careful not to be cut off from the power of leaving town when you do wish to do so. I would have you carefully consider it again and again with each other and with your friends. Tell Philotimus to secure the house with barricades and a watch. Also please organise a regular service of letter carriers, so that I may hear something from you every day. Above all, attend to your health, if you wish me to maintain mine.

Though this letter is quite formal, I find it rather touching that you should write to your wife in such a respectful manner. You do not write to give her commands, assuming control over her life, you write to her with a respect for her own faculties of decision making, trusting her to make the best choices she can regarding the safety and future of herself, and your daughter. I gladly read that in February they left Rome and made it to Formiae, where you sometime later joined with them. I read also, though with a grim sense of fatality, your description of Pompey's efforts to gather a force to oppose Caesar with, in your letter to Atticus dated February 8^th.

“As to our leader Gnaeus – what an inconceivably miserable spectacle! What a complete breakdown! No courage, no plan, no forces, no energy!

In the same letter, you reveal that Caesar has been in communication with you, urging you to promote peace, though you claim that his letter to you was dated before Caesar began his own violent proceedings.

It is at this point, Cicero, that I need to put aside your book of letters, and pick up Caesar's account of the Civil War. There are things I need to know from his point of view that will help me understand the broader story of the conflict, and though you consider him a selfish, greedy, unlawful tyrant, it also seems clear to me that you did not have a clear understanding of the whole picture yourself. In your letter to Atticus, dated January 23^rd (CCCVI), you describe the war thus:

It is only a civil war in the sense that it has originated from the unscrupulous boldness of one unprincipled citizen, not as arising from a division of sentiment between the citizens generally.

Cicero, I always prefer to take your side, to see you as the wisest of men, the diplomat forever urging peace and lawful stability, but I think that your belief that the general population were not divided, is a terrible blindness on your part. You know the story of Rome from the Gracchus brothers onwards, how can you possibly say that this civil war is only the product of Caesar's will, and not that of a century long conflict between the people and the senate? How dare you remain so ignorant, even while you were caught right in the middle of the war?

So, Cicero, it is at this point that I must take a pause in my letter to you regarding this time, and begin to read Caesar's account, since it is clear that you, as you willingly enough admit, are loyal to Pompey and to his cause, though you know that, right or wrong, it may be the cause of your own destruction.

With Gratitude and Respect

Morgan.