Book 4, Letter 19, part 1 of 2, to Cicero, discussing the disputations, on the subject of death and happiness

 

Dear Cicero,

This book of yours, these Tusculan Disputations, are difficult to start talking about. Section by section you say so much, on so many topics; so tonight, leafing through my rather cheap, and already falling apart paperback edition, I found what you had to say on the differing burial customs of other cultures. Since my father's death...well, there's a lot going on and I think about death every day. One must be prepared for death, in order to truly live.

Book 1: On contempt of death

XLV

The Egyptians embalm their dead, and keep them in their houses; the Persians dress them over with wax, and then bury them, that they may preserve their bodies as long as possible. It is customary with the the Magi to bury none of their order unless they have been first torn by wild beasts. In Hyrcania, the people maintain dogs for the public use; the nobles have their own – and we know that they have a good breed of dogs; but every one, according to his ability, provides himself with some, in order to be torn by them, and they hold that to be the best kind of investment...

...But the living, indeed, should consider what is due to custom and opinion; only they should at the same time consider that the dead are no-ways interested in it. But death truly is then met with the greatest tranquillity when the dying man can comfort himself with his own praise. No one dies too soon who has finished the course of perfect virtue. I myself have known many occasions when I have seemed in danger of immediate death; oh! How I wish it had come for me! For I have gained nothing by the delay. I had gone over and over again the duties of life; nothing remained but to contend with fortune.

'I have gained nothing by the delay.' Now Cicero, I know that you have read Herodotus and that you know the story of King Croesus. I have had that story running through my mind a lot this week. Call no man happy till he die, is a simple way to summarise the whole thing, but I feel you would appreciate an actual quote, so I shall fetch my deSelincourt translation. (Herodotus Histories, Book 1, Sect 30-33)

Solon visited the richest king in the land, Croesus, and having been given the grand tour of all the king's treasures, Croesus asked Solon:

'Well my Athenian friend, I have heard a great deal about your wisdom, and how widely you have travelled in the pursuit of knowledge. I cannot resist my desire to ask you a question: who is the happiest man you have ever seen?'

The point of the question was that Croesus supposed himself to be he happiest of men. Solon, however, refused to flatter, and answered in strict accordance with his view of the truth. 'An Athenian,' he said, 'called Tellus.'

Croesus was taken aback. 'And what,' he asked sharply, 'is your reason for this choice?'

'There are two good reasons,' said Solon, 'first, his city was prosperous, and he had fine sons, and lived to see children born to each of them, and all these children surviving: secondly, he had wealth enough by our standards and he had a glorious death. In battle with the neighbouring town of Eleusis, he fought for his countrymen, routed the enemy, and died like a soldier; and the Athenians paid him the high honour of a public funeral on the spot where he fell.'

All these details about the happiness of Tellus, Solon doubtless intended as a moral lesson for the king; Croesus, however, thinking he would at least be awarded second prize, asked who was the next happiest person whom Solon had seen.

'Two young me of Argos,' was the reply; 'Cleobis and Biton. They had enough to live on comfortably; and their physical strength is proved not merely by their success in athletics, but much more by the following incident. The Argives were celebrating the festival of Hera, and it was most important that the mother of the two young men should drive to the temple in her ox-cart; but it so happened that the oxen were late in coming back from the fields. Her two sons therefore, as their was not time to loose, harnessed themselves to the cart and dragged it along, with their mother inside, for a distance of nearly six miles, until they reached the temple. After this exploit, which was witnessed by the assembled crowd, they had a most enviable death – a heaven-sent proof of how much better it is to be dead than alive. Men kept crowding around them and congratulating them on their strength, and women kept telling the mother how lucky she was to have such sons, when, in sheer pleasure at this pleasure at this public recognition of her sons' act, she prayed to the goddess Hera, before whose shrine she stood, to grant Cleobis and Biton, who had brought her such honour, the greatest blessing that can fall to mortal man.

'After her prayer came the ceremonies of sacrifice and feasting; and the two lads, when all was over, fell asleep in the temple – and that was the end of them, for they never woke again.'

Croesus was vexed with Solon for giving the second prize for happiness to the two young Argives, and snapped out: 'That's all very well, my Athenian friend; but what of my own happiness? Is it so utterly contemptible that you won't even compare me with mere common folk like those you have mentioned?'

'My lord,' replied Solon, 'I know God is envious of human prosperity and likes to trouble us; and you question me about the lot of man. Listen then: as the years lengthen out there is much both to see and to suffer which we would wish otherwise. Take seventy years as the span of a man's life: those seventy years contain...26, 250 days, and not a single one is like the next in what it brings. You can see from that, Croesus, what a chancy thing life is. You are very rich, and you rule a numerous people; but the question you asked me I will not answer, until I know that you have died happily. Great wealth can make a man no happier than moderate means, unless he has the luck to continue in prosperity to the end. Many very rich men have been unfortunate, and many with a modest competence have had good luck. The former are better off than the latter in two respects only, whereas the poor lucky man has the advantage in many ways; for thought the rich have means to satisfy their appetites and to bear calamities, and the poor have not, the poor, if they are lucky, are more likely to keep clear of trouble, and will have besides the blessings of a sound body, health, freedom from trouble, fine children, and good looks.

'Now if a man thus favoured dies as he has lived, he will be just the one you are looking for: the only sort of person who deserves to be called happy. But mark this: until he is dead, keep the word “happy” in reserve. Till then, he is not happy, but only lucky.

Book 4, Letter 18, part 2 of 2, to Cicero, on the final letters

 

Now Cicero, this is the last letter preserved for us.  A letter from your friend L Munatius Plancus.

DCCCCXI (f x, 24) 

From: LUCIUS MUNATIUS PLANCUS  - TO CICERO (AT ROME) 

Camp near Cularo, 28 July 

I cannot refrain from thanking you in view of the course of events and of your services. But, by heaven ! I blush to do it. For an intimacy as close as that which you have wished me to have with you seems not to require any formal thanks, nor do I willingly pay the poor recompense of words in return for your supreme kindness, and I would rather, when we meet, prove my gratitude by my respect, my obedience to your wishes, and my constant attentions. But if to live on is my fate, in this same respect, obedience to your wishes, and constant attentions, I will surpass all your beloved friends and even your devoted relatives. For whether your affection for me and your opinion of me are likely to bring me greater reputation in perpetuity or greater daily pleasure, I should find it hard to decide. 

You have concerned yourself as to the bounties to the soldiers ; whom I wished to be rewarded by the senate, not to enhance my own power — for I am conscious of entertaining no thoughts except for the common benefit — but first of all, because in my opinion they deserved it ; next, because I wished them to be still more closely attached to the Republic in view of all eventualities ; and lastly, in order that I might guarantee their continuing as completely proof against all attempts to tamper with their loyalty, as they have been up to this time. 

As yet we have kept everything here in status quo. And this policy of ours, though I know how eager men are and with reason for a decisive victory, is yet, I hope, approved of by you. For if any disaster happens to these armies, the Republic has no great forces in reserve to resist any sudden 

attack or raid of the parricides. The amount of our forces I presume is known to you. In my camp there are three legions of veterans, one of recruits perhaps the finest of all : in the camp of Decimus Brutus there is one veteran legion, a second of two-years'-service men, eight of recruits. There- 

fore the whole force taken together is very strong in numbers, in stamina inferior. For how much it is safe to trust to raw levies in the field we have had too frequent experience. To the strength of these armies of ours, if there was added either the African army which consists of veterans, or that of Caesar, we should hazard the safety of the Republic on a battle without any uneasiness. Now, as 

to Caesar, we see that he is considerably the nearer of the two. I have therefore never ceased importuning him by letter, and he has uniformly replied that he is coming without delay : while all the time I perceive that he has given up that idea and has taken up some other scheme. Nevertheless, I have sent our friend Furnius ' to him with a message and a letter, in case he may be able to do some good. 

You know, my dear Cicero, that in regard to love for Caesar you and I are partners, either because, being one of Iulius Caesar's intimates, I was obliged — while he was alive — to look after the boy and shew him affection ; or because he was himself, as far as I could make out, of a very orderly and kindly disposition ; or because, after such a re- markable friendship as existed between me and Iulius Caesar, it seems discreditable that I should not regard as a son one who was adopted into that position by his decision and by that of your house alike.  Yet after all — and whatever I write to you I write rather in sorrow than in anger — the fact that Antony is alive to-day, that Lepidus is with him, that they have far from contemptible armies, that they are hopeful and bold — for all these they may thank Caesar.  

I will not go back to old matters, but from the moment that he gave out that he was coming to me, if he had chosen to come, the war would at once have either been put an end to, or, to their very great loss, have been thrust back into Spain, which is most hostile in sentiment to them. , What idea or whose advice has withdrawn him from such great glory, which was at the same time required by his interests and needful for his safety, and has turned his attention to the thought of a two-months' consulship, entailing a great and general panic, and demanded in a peremptory and offensive manner — I cannot conjecture. It seems to me that in this matter his relations could exercise considerable influence both for his sake and for that of the Republic : most of all, as I think, could you also do so, since he is more obliged to you than anyone else is except myself — for I shall never forget that the obligations I owe you are exceedingly great and numerous. I commissioned Furnius to urge these considerations upon him. But if I prove to have as great an influence with him as I ought to have, I shall have done him a great service himself.

Meanwhile we are maintaining the war at a disadvantage, because we do not think an engagement the safest solution of the difficulty, and yet will not allow the Republic to suffer greater loss by our retirement. But if either Caesar has bethought himself, or the African legions have come promptly, we will relieve you of anxiety on this side. I beg you to continue to honour me with your regard, and to believe that I am peculiarly at your service. 

Cicero, it is Plancus' use of the the phrase: 'As yet we have kept everything here in status quo', that highlights the failure of your whole cause.  I say frequently that change is the only law of nature.  If maintaining the old order was truly the goal of the Loyalists, then the cause was doomed from the start.  I think that all we poor mortals can ever hope to do, is to steer the course of change.  We cannot stop the river from flowing.  We cannot return to an imagined time when the world was somehow magically better than it is now. I am beginning the think that there is no such thing as the ancient world, but rather all that there has ever been is the world.  The conflicts of your time are pretty much the same as in my own era, and from where I sit, those who are trying to maintain the status quo, or to make our country great again, are living in a terribly deluded state that causes great harm to all involved.

Yet there is something inspiring in Plancus' kind words regarding your friendship, and perhaps even more in his obvious continued loyalty to Iulius Caesar.  This is something I have written about before, your friendships with people on the opposite side of politics.  I have failed of late to imitate your virtue in this regard.  The modern conflicts in politics are terrible, and I have not been able to keep the peace between my divided friendships.  Civil war has not yet begun, but I can smell it on the wind.

But Cicero, as Plancus said to you:

I beg you to continue to honour me with your regard, and to believe that I am peculiarly at your service. 

I continue to honour you with my regard.

With my gratitude and my respect.

Morgan.

Book 4, Letter 18, part 1 of 2, on the final letters

 

Dear Cicero,

I finished reading all your letters yesterday. Today is Father's Day here in Australia. (I wrote this letter back in September, 2020). It feels symbolic, but I'm not sure how. I can feel my relationship with you changing, as all relationships do. I've lived with you as my constant companion for over two years now, you have been the yardstick of my daily life, and though I still have two of your books and some of your speeches to read, I can see the edge of destiny approaching. I set out to read every single piece of your writing, and to document my journey through these letters, and with you at my side, I have studied many other writers, a great deal of whom you introduced me to. I had not read Aristotle until you recommended him. I had not read any of the Greek plays until you insisted I at least read Medea. I read Caesar to get the other side of the story. I read Lucretius and Xenophon, both on your recommendation, and although Plato really needs no introduction, I took heed of your praise of him, and have begun my quest through his works. I discovered Stoic philosophy through you, and through that connection, I discovered Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus and Seneca.

All this, because of you, dear Cicero, and though I can see the day approaching when I shall have read all of your works, I cannot see a time when I shall not need you as my friend, and books once read, are better learned through second reading. Each piece of new knowledge seems to build upon the next, and with the passing of years, comes the maturation of my own wisdom and the accumulated bounty of awareness that comes from continued study. Awareness both of the vastness of my own ignorance, and of the dazzling pearls of knowledge granted me by all the ancient authors I am reading.

The last two letters extant, are one from you to M Brutus, and one from Munatius Plancus to you, Cicero.

DCCCCX (BRUT. 1, 18)

TO M. IUNIUS BRUTUS (IN MACEDONIA)

Rome, 27 July

After I had often urged you by letter to come as soon as possible to the aid of the state, and to bring your army into Italy, and when I thought that your relatives had no doubt on that subject, I was asked by that most prudent and careful lady your mother — whose every thought and care are

directed and devoted to you — to call on her on the 24th of July, which, as in duty bound, I at once did. On my arrival, I found Casca, Labeo, and Scaptius there. Well, she opened the subject and asked me my opinion, whether we should ask you to come to Italy, and whether we thought that to your advantage, or whether it were better that you should put it off and stay where you were. I answered — as was my real opinion — that it was of the highest advantage to your position and reputation to bring help at the first possible moment to the tottering and almost prostrate Republic. For what disaster do you think is wanting in a war, in which the victorious armies refuse to pursue a flying enemy, and in which an officer with imperium in full possession of his rights, enjoying the most splendid honours and the most ample fortune, with wife and children, with you and Cassius related to him by marriage, has yet proclaimed war on the Republic?

How can I use the words "in such unanimity of senate and people," when such fatal mischief

abides within our very walls? But the bitterest sorrow which is affecting me as I write this is that, whereas the Republic accepted me as a surety for that youth, or, I might almost say, that boy, I seem scarcely able to make my promise good. Truly, a guarantee for another's feeling and sentiment, especially in affairs of the greatest importance, is more onerous and difficult than one for money. For money can be paid, and a loss of property is bearable. But how are you to make good what you have guaranteed to the state, unless he for whom you undertook the obligation is willing that it should be fulfilled ? 'However, I shall retain even him, I hope, in spite of many adverse influences. For he seems to have a character of his own, though he is at the pliable time of life, and there are many prepared to corrupt him, who hope that, by holding out before him the glamour of false honour,' the sight of a naturally good intelligence may be blinded. Accordingly, to my other labours has been added the task of applying every engine to the keeping of a hold upon the young man, that I may not incur a reputation for rashness. However, where is the rashness ? I bound the man, for whom I gave the guarantee, more tightly than I did myself ; nor can the state regret my having given a guarantee for one who in the actual campaign was rendered more resolute by my promise, as well as from his own disposition. But, unless I am mistaken, the greatest difficulty in the Republic is the want of money. For the loyalists grow daily more callous to the call for property tax. All that was collected by the one per cent, income tax, owing to the shameless returns made by the wealthy, is exhausted by the bounties given to two legions : whereas endless expenses are hanging over us, both for the armies now protecting us, and for yours — for our friend Cassius seems able to come home very well provided. But of this and many other things I desire to talk to you when we meet, and that as soon as possible. About your sister's sons, Brutus, I did not wait for you to write. As a matter of fact, the state of the times itself — for the war will be protracted — guarantees that

the case will be left for you to decide. But from the very first, though I could not divine the long continuance of the war, I pleaded the cause of the boys in the senate, as I think you can have learnt from your mother's letter. Nor will there ever arise any circumstance in which I shall not, even

at the risk of my life, say and do whatever I think is your wish and to your interest.

Oh Cicero, how your grim fate seems reflected in the grim subject of your letter. We know well that your faith in Augustus was misplaced, at least, that is how the historians describe it. But I wonder now, if your misplaced trust is not a sign of your dedication to an honourable method of living that was long at odds with the realpolitik? I think now that I can admire you for believing in the beautiful lie of hope, now that in my own day and age, such a belief seems the only way to maintain myself in the face of the realpolitik of 2020. Yet, in the case of the Roman Republic, its time was done. The rot of corruption and oppression was everywhere...I don't need to go on about it, you know how it all turned out.

I am probably projecting my presentism, (as the historians put it), onto your experience. I am probably seeking a parallel where none exists, but you are my friend, and I place my hope and trust in you Cicero, in the belief that you were a good man, and a useful guide for me now, on my own path seeking virtue.

Book 4, Letter 17, to Seneca, on getting help

 

Dear Seneca,

You've been a good friend to me for a couple years, and now, more than ever I have need of your advice. Late at night, with my guts churning with anxiety and stress, I open the little red book, volume one of your letters to Lucilius, Epistle 50; on our blindness and its cure.

You know Harpaste, my wife's female clown; she has remained in my house, a burden from a legacy. I particularly disapprove of these freaks; whenever I wish to enjoy the quips of a clown, I am not compelled to hunt far; I can laugh at myself. Now this clown suddenly became blind. She keeps asking her attendant to change her quarters; she says that her apartments are too dark.

You can see clearly that that which makes us smile in the case of Harpaste happens to all the rest of us; nobody understands that he is himself greedy, or that he is covetous. Yet the blind ask for a guide, while we wander without one, saying: “I am not self-seeking; but one cannot live at Rome in any other way. I am not extravagant, but mere living in the city demands a great outlay. It is not my fault that I have a choleric disposition, or that I have not settled down to any definite scheme of life; it is due to my youth.” Why do we deceive ourselves? The evil that afflicts us is not external, it is within us, situated in our very vitals; for that reason we attain soundness with all the more difficulty, because we do not know that we are diseased.

Suppose that we have begun the cure; when shall we throw off all these diseases, with al their virulence? At present, we do not even consult the physician, whose work would be easier if he were called in when the complaint was in its early stages. The tender and the inexperienced minds would follow his advice if he pointed out the right way. No man finds it difficult to return to nature, except the man who has deserted nature. We blush to receive instruction in sound sense; but, by Heaven, if we think it base to seek a teacher of this art, we should also abandon any hope that so great a good could be instilled into us by mere chance.

No, we must work. To tell the truth, even the work is not great, if only, as I said, we begin to mould and reconstruct our souls before they are hardened by sin. But I do not despair even of a hardened sinner. There is nothing that will not surrender to persistent treatment, to concentrated and careful attention; however much the timber may be bent, you can make it straight again. Heat unbends curved beams, and wood that grew naturally in another shape is fashioned artificially according to our needs. How much more easily does the soul permit itself to be shaped, pliable as it is and more yielding than any liquid! For what else is the soul that air in a certain state? And you see that air is more adaptable than any other matter, in proportion as it is rarer than any other.

There is nothing, Lucilius, to hinder you from entertaining good hopes about us, just because we are even now in the grip of evil, or because we have been possessed thereby. There is no man to whom a good mind comes before an evil one. It is the evil mind that gets first hold on all of us. Learning virtue means unlearning vice. We should therefore proceed to the task of freeing ourselves from faults with all the more courage because, when once committed to us, the good is an everlasting possession; virtue is not unlearned.

So, the bit about the elderly clown living in your house is fantastic. The general image we moderns have of you is one of your high society life, both austere and extravagant (contradictory as that image is), but to know that you had a retired clown living with you complicates and completes the picture in my mind. There is something so casual about the lessons you deliver, and it separates you from the other philosophers in an important way.

It is easier to admit your wisdom into my life, when you deliver it to me as a friend.

But the lesson, Seneca, is what is most important.

Your recommendation for seeking therapy, or at least, wise guidance in life, is exactly what I needed to hear. For we are not born with all the knowledge necessary to live well and easily. We must seek elders to lead the way, we must seek assistance, or we will fall into every hole the road presents us with. For a long time I have avoided therapists, for a variety of reasons that have all seemed rational at the time, but which now seem like the brittle armour of a fragile ego.

Not any more.

I have reached a point where I need more than what dead philosophers can offer. The evil in my soul has festered long enough, and now I must seek the help I should have sought when I was young.

But, today, in my fortieth year, it is the dead who convinced me to make this transition.

So, thank you Seneca. Your friendship is so important to me, and your wisdom is always of benefit.

With Gratitude and Respect,

Morgan.