Book 3, Letter 16, part 2 of 2 To Plutarch, on Origin Stories.

So, Plutarch, from here I'd like to diverge in my letter to bring up something from the beginning of Herodotus' Histories. The legend, as he claims, concerning the very origin of the conflict between east and west, or perhaps more specifically, between Hellas and Persia. I bring this up because it also concerns the kidnapping of women, and the curious attitudes towards this practice. (From the MaCaulay translation of Herodotus, Book 1)

The Phenicians arrived then at this land of Argos, and began to dispose of their ship’s cargo: and on the fifth or sixth day after they had arrived, when their goods had been almost all sold, there came down to the sea a great company of women, and among them the daughter of the king; and her name, as the Hellenes also agree, was Io the daughter of Inachos. These standing near to the stern of the ship were buying of the wares such as pleased them most, when of a sudden the Phenicians, passing the word from one to another, made a rush upon them; and the greater part of the women escaped by flight, but Io and certain others were carried off. So they put them on board their ship, and forthwith departed, sailing away to Egypt.

After this however the Hellenes, they say, were the authors of the second wrong; for they sailed in to Aia of Colchis and to the river Phasis with a ship of war, and from thence, after they had done the other business for which they came, they carried off the king’s daughter Medea: and the king of Colchis sent a herald to the land of Hellas and demanded satisfaction for the rape and to have his daughter back; but they answered that, as the Barbarians had given them no satisfaction for the rape of Io the Argive, so neither would they give satisfaction to the Barbarians for this.

From here I'd like to change over to the DeSelincourt translation...

Thus far there had been nothing worse than woman-stealing on both sides; but for what happened next the Greeks, they say, were seriously to blame; for it was the Greeks who were, in a military sense, the aggressors. Abducting young women, in their opinion, is not, indeed, a lawful act; but it is stupid after the event to make a fuss about it. The only sensible thing it to take no notice, for it is obvious that no young woman allows herself to be abducted if she does not wish to be. The Asiatics, according to the Persians, took the seizure of the women lightly enough, but not so the Greeks: the Greeks, merely on account of a a girl from Sparta, raised a big army, invaded Asia and destroyed the empire of Priam. From that root sprang their belief in the perpetual enmity of the Grecian world towards them.

Now, I know it's pointless to judge the morality of people from the ancient world by the standards of my own time, but there is something in that last passage that I can't get out of my head.

Abducting young women, in their opinion, is not, indeed, a lawful act; but it is stupid after the event to make a fuss about it. The only sensible thing it to take no notice, for it is obvious that no young woman allows herself to be abducted if she does not wish to be.

I can't decide if this is intended as a compliment to the strength of women, who it is assumed would never let themselves be abducted without putting up a fight (and by extension, defeating their kidnappers), or if it is proof that kidnapping of women was so common that people just didn't really care. The use of kidnapping as a pretext for war seems plausible, since this sort of thing has gone on all throughout history, and the famous story of the Trojan war certainly highlights the blurry line separating elopement and kidnapping, and the lies generals are willing to tell their kings in order to start a fight. I cannot, however, accept the notion that 'no young woman allows herself to be abducted if she does not wish to be.'

So, Plutarch, that's about all I wanted to bring up, just this weird, barbaric, grimy little slice of history, and the myths regarding the origin of what is still considered to be one of the greatest empires in all human history. Also, considering the never ending war between east and west, it is a matter of no small curiosity to read about the ancient origin story of the conflict, that, to this day, defines global politics, trade and even the lives of ordinary people all over the world.

It all began with a kidnapping...or a secret love affair, or both...

This is just the beginning. To really answer my question I will have to read about the Etruscans and King Tarquinius, (which will give me an opportunity to re-read the poem Horatius, by Macaulay). I will need to read about the first war against the Gauls led by Chief Brennus. I will need to learn of Titus Manlius and the Latin League. I expect I will have recourse to quote from you a great deal in this quest for understanding.

Thank you Plutarch, as always, you are a pleasure to read.

With admiration and respect,

Morgan.

*

PS.  A note to my readers.

I would just like to let you all know that my solo album was released a couple months ago.  It is a mixture of world influences, mostly Middle Eastern, but i don't want to go defining my sound for you, better that you hear it for yourself.

You can check it out at:

www.zebulonstoryteller.bandcamp.com

Also, you can follow the links at the top of the page to see my many youtube videos.

Thank you all for reading, and a special shout out to my new readers from Ukraine and Poland.  It is wonderful to know that you are enjoying my journey of discovery.  Please leave a comment on the page, or you can find me through Facebook if you would like to chat.

Thank you.

Morgan Taubert.  (aka Zebulon)

Book 3, Letter 16, part 1 of 2 To Plutarch, on Origin Stories

Dear Plutarch,

Today is a catastrophic fire alert day. I am ready for the possibility that I may have to flee with my family to safety. After packing a few clothes and some bottled water, I turned to my bookshelves. I packed Herodotus, I packed Seneca's Epistles, and I packed all your books Plutarch. I am proud to call you my friend and to value your writing as much as I do. With one bag full, I then I found an old leather doctor's bag and packed all of Cicero's books, and the Seven Pillars of Wisdom by TE Lawrence, then I packed Plato and Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, a few books of poetry. I have my ukulele, my setar and my frame drum. My own collected writing is all stored on my computer, and backed up on external hard-drives. It is fascinating to make a list of this nature, and to identify so clearly the most important items in my possession.

The fires keep getting closer. Nearby towns are already being evacuated and a fire on the road leading to the nearby farm where I work is now being attended to. The rainless storm winds are reaching 90km per hour. Now, as the sun sets, the temperature is at last dropping from 45C. It should be 22C by nightfall. Fire fighters will work through the night. Heroic champions all of them. If any of these fires are found to have been deliberately lit, is is easy to imagine a return to public lynchings. However, I did not write to you today to talk about fires, books or mob justice.

Tangled as I have been in the Civil Wars of Rome, in Cicero's letters and Caesar's war stories, I have found myself asking the question, where did it begin? So, I turn to you, Plutarch. You who knew the old stories so well.

The story of Romulus and Remus is confusing, confounding, absurd, mythical, mundane and layered with so many possible variations, that discerning the historical truth of the events is impossible. Or, as you put it...(in the introduction to your life of Theseus – from the Dryden translation of 1906)

As geographers crowd into the edges of their maps parts of the world which they do not know about, adding notes in the margin to the effect, that beyond this lies nothing but sandy deserts full of wild beasts, unapproachable bogs, Scythian ice, or a frozen sea, so, in this work of mine, in which I have compared the lives of the greatest men with one another, after passing through those periods which probable reasoning can reach to and real history find a footing in, I might very well say of those that are farther off, Beyond this there is nothing but prodigies and fictions, the only inhabitants are the poets and inventors of fables; there is no credit, or certainty any farther.

Let us hope that Fable may, in what shall follow, so submit to the purifying processes of Reason as to take the character of exact history. In any case, however, where it shall be found contumaciously slighting credibility, and refusing to be reduced to any thing like probable fact, we shall beg that we may meet with candid readers, and such as will receive with indulgence the stories of antiquity.

I asked the question (where did it all begin..?) because I wanted to understand something about the pride that Cicero felt for his nation. He wrote, in a letter to Aulus Manlius Torquatus, in January 45BCE, '...you are living in a city which gave birth to, and fostered a systematic rule of life...' In order to understand that statement, I recently began reading An introduction to Roman Law, by Barry Nicholas, 1962, which has been far more exciting to read that I ever expected. I can see why Cicero would be proud of his city's legal history.

However, I'm getting ahead of myself, I wanted to understand the underlying myths that the Roman people told themselves about their origins. So, in your account of the legend of Romulus and Remus, I found a few things I would like to discuss. I'll try to summarise...

The two boys, founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus, were possibly the twins of a prostitute, or a vestal virgin, possibly kidnapped, or abandoned in the wild, possibly suckled by a great she-wolf...there are more variations, each of them equally plausible in my mind.

Their city site was chosen based upon a bogus oracular reading...actually, that's a good place to pause for a second. The Roman origin story, the founding myth, contains an open accusation that oracular readings could be falsified. The way you tell it seems to make plain that the whole system of bird auguries was far from reliable, in fact it reads to me like it was well understood that this religious belief was frequently manipulated by people in power to suit their own purposes.

So right off the bat, this founding myth sounds more like a cynical history than an ancient fairy tale. Certainly, Plutarch, by the time you were writing about it, the world had become very sophisticated, deeply cynical, and, enriched by hundreds of years of written history, Rome had developed a high level of self awareness and critical thinking. Reading Tacitus shows me just how jaded a 'modern' Roman might become, when exposed to the books, plays and luxury of high society, not to mention politics, court intrigues and war.

But, back to the story...

So they build the city, there's a bit of fighting with the neighbours, Romulus kills his own brother over a dispute about walls and city boundaries, and then comes the rape of the Sabines. Rome, at a critical stage in its early development, has buildings, roads, industry....but hardly any women. There were some attempts at making marriage deals with the neighbours, but when that fell through, treachery, kidnapping, rape and war was the next obvious step.

In the fourth month, after the city was built, as Fabius writes, the adventure of stealing the women was attempted; and some say Romulus himself, being naturally a martial man, and predisposed too, perhaps, by certain oracles, to believe the fates had ordained the future growth and greatness of Rome should depend upon the benefit of war, upon these accounts first offered violence to the Sabines, since he took away only thirty virgins, more to give an occasion of war than out of any want of women. But this is not very probable; it would seem rather that, observing his city to be filled by a confluence of foreigners, few of whom had wives, and that the multitude in general, consisting of a mixture of mean and obscure men, fell under contempt, and seemed to be of no long continuance together, and hoping farther, after the women were appeased, to make this injury in some measure an occasion of confederacy and mutual commerce with the Sabines, he took in hand this exploit after this manner

Setting up a big festival, the Romans invited their neighbours to celebrate, and right in the middle of the party, the Romans kidnap all the young women. Some say it was only a few pretty girls, others say it was hundreds of girls and a few married women. Some say it was a violent act, complete with rape, others claim that no such crimes were committed...the women were hostages, in the old fashioned method, taken to ensure peace with the neighbours, but this time with the added bonus of also granting wives to the unmarried men of Rome.

I've got to say Plutarch, as far as origin stories go, these Romans don't seem to be ashamed of airing their dirty laundry. I wonder, did you consider yourself better off having been born Greek? The Romans thought themselves superior to all other people, but I have this funny feeling that the Greeks were sometimes quietly laughing at the silly, sometimes pompous pride the Romans had for themselves.

Anyway, so there's a long gap between the kidnapping, and when the Sabines came back to rescue their women. It's a really long gap. Years. Children have been born in the intervening time, born of the 'arranged' marriages to the Roman men. When the Sabines come back to fight the Romans, the war is terrible, and many young men die. The wives take matters into their own hands and stop the fighting in the following manner.

For the daughters of the Sabines, who had been carried off, came running, in great confusion, some on this side, some on that, with miserable cries and lamentations, like creatures possessed, in the midst of the army, and among the dead bodies, to come at their husbands and their fathers, some with their young babes in their arms, others their hair loose about their ears, but all calling, now upon the Sabines, now upon the Romans, in the most tender and endearing words. Hereupon both melted into compassion, and fell back, to make room for them betwixt the armies. The sight of the women carried sorrow and commiseration upon both sides into the hearts of all, but still more their words, which began with expostulation and upbraiding, and ended with entreaty and supplication.

“Wherein,” say they, “have we injured or offended you, as to deserve such sufferings, past and present? We were ravished away unjustly and violently by those whose now we are; that being done, we were so long neglected by our fathers, our brothers, and countrymen, that time, having now by the strictest bonds united us to those we once mortally hated, has made it impossible for us not to tremble at the danger and weep at the death of the very men who once used violence to us. You did not come to vindicate our honor, while we were virgins, against our assailants; but do come now to force away wives from their husbands and mothers from their children, a succor more grievous to its wretched objects than the former betrayal and neglect of them. Which shall we call the worst, their love-making or your compassion? If you were making war upon any other occasion, for our sakes you ought to withhold your hands from those to whom we have made you fathers-in-law and grandsires. If it be for our own cause, then take us, and with us your sons-in-law and grandchildren. Restore to us our parents and kindred, but do not rob us of our children and husbands. Make us not, we entreat you, twice captives.”

...

Book 3, Letter 15: To Rafael Roccisano

Hey Raf,

I saw you on the street yesterday, and I thought I should pass this on to you. Another of your friends posted this on Facebook.

*

From Audry LeMay

There's a thousand stories to be told of our brother

Raf's generosity, passion, creativity, profound sense

of honour and belief in justice for all. It hurt me not to

hear a single one told during the service.

From the day Raf moved into my house, there was not

a week he didn't actively offer food shelter, love and

fire to those around us who needed it. I will always

cherish the memories I have of him sticking his neck

out for others. Those who would steal his last dance

and make his funeral a place to put their own anger

and pain do him a grave dishonour. Everybody hurts

but love is the greatest painkiller known to mankind.

Love is the law.

Our brother deserves better than to have his death

dance reduced to an angry public health

advertisement. I was particularly heartbroken that he

died kissing the bottle for sure. But it was my

experience THAT WHEN RAF WAS KISSING BOTTLES

HE WAS ALSO KISSING YOU!

RIP Rif Raf. This Bottle's for you old friend.

*

I saw you on the street at the Semaphore Street Fair yesterday. I was there, as I am every year, with drummers and belly dancers, when I saw you walk by. Only you didn't walk....you danced. You heard the Arabic music playing for the dancers on the stage and you grooved on by, giving me a wink as you did so. You looked young, maybe twenty. You looked happy, strong. I had to catch my breath after you passed by.

Then last night, I dreamed that I was speaking with you, telling you that I had seen you on the street. So now in the morning I am writing to tell you that I love you, that we all love you and miss you.

I hope wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, that you have friends around you, and that maybe in the morning, you will rise having dreamt of us. I hope that whatever street you walk down, that you are dancing. Thank you Rafael. In death you continue to help us, to offer up the lessons of your heart for us to learn from.

The after-party of Rafael Antonio Roccisano.

The stories of our lives don't have beginnings or endings. Everything in history is connected. We gather, dressed in black on the pier, a sunset storm describes the permeable boundary between two worlds. The land of the living and the land of the dead.

Rafael was such an important person in all our lives. His story continues to have a massive impact on all of us. We still cry, we still dream of him, we hear his voice in our heads, we expect to see him among familiar faces. He is gone, but his story is far from over.

The dead are not dead.  Rafael lives in us. It is a cliché, but I feel that it is true nonetheless.

After the flowers are scattered in the swelling ocean, after the ashes are poured out, along with our tears and our words and the last of the daylight, we part and make our way, separate, but forever connected by him who brought us together. His story is connected to ours. We played with him, we drank with him, we grew up, we fought, made up, told stories, took drugs, we laughed and cried and then he died.

But the dead do not die, so long as we live to speak their name. So long as their story is connected to ours, the dead do not die. We don't have beginnings or endings. Everything in us is connected.

*

The after-party kicks on within the hour. (There's a part of me that knows that Raf would be stoked to know that there was an after-party), We crowd around the fire, the darkness expelled from our hearts, the cold repelled from our skin, we drink. We drink.

We gather in the home of the Beersmith (a.k.a. the Alchemist, the Trickster). There is talk, and warm faces turn to meet, and our hugs are long and full of meaning. The click-duh-clack of pool balls is a gentle music against which we meet to say hello, to ask of each other, to listen and tell. There is laughter, a young boy plays wild games of adventure with adventurous adults. He whoops and hollers as only a child can, tilting and falling on an adult-sized see-saw with his father.

The Beersmith dances around a steamy pot wherein a new alchemy is being birthed. The air feels intoxicating, wet with humid aromas of yeast, grain, sugar. Reading from a recipe more chemistry than culinary, he counts his friends on both hands and both feet, and there are plenty more hands offered to help with the count. Tonight he is the host of something truly special, a scattered, spin-wheel of interwoven stories. He is surrounded by storytellers. Everywhere people talk of games, of journeys, of escapades, but also of maths and movies and books and every turn of phrase is another sort of good natured joke. We laugh at our youth, at our age, at our simple striving and quarrels.

The rain is gentle.

Beyond the reach of the sheltered back porch 

a-flood with light and colour,

beyond the shelter of our hands holding hands,

out there the night is very quiet.

The rain is gentle.

Out there, in here, Rafael.

*

PS: Your brother Gabe sent me this, after the party.

Beyond the reach of the sheltered back

porch. In the rain. His brother weeps.

Gnashing of teeth. Whole heart. Feet in

the dirt.

His brother weeps and is held. And he

holds another as she weeps. And they

both let go. And hold on. Their tears

mingling in the mud.

Book 3, Letter 14, part 2 of 2 To Marcus Aurelius, on the eclipse of the sun.

Dear Marcus,

* (some days have passed) *

I found a group of philosophers discussing Stoic ideals, and the question was asked whether or not, as a stoic, it was encouraged to seek help when facing mental health issues. The consensus was an overwhelming yes, and the following passage was quoted :

Book 7

Section 7

(George Long Translation)

Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy business to do thy duty like a soldier in the assault on a town. How then, if being lame thou canst not mount up on the battlements alone, but with the help of another it is possible?This brings up something that I have thought about in relation to ancient texts. Can advice relating to physical combat and war be transferred to peaceful conflicts, or to the inner struggles we face when relating to our own minds? I like to think that it can apply, and that concepts like struggle, enemy, death and wounding are as much a part of a psychological narrative as they are physical. I have been meaning to write to Sun Tzu about his book 'The Art of War' in order to discuss this very idea.

A letter for another day.

*

From: Meditations

Book 11, Section 34

(Gregory Hays translation)

As you kiss your son good night, says Epictetus, whisper to yourself, “He may be dead in the morning.”

Don't tempt fate, you say.

By talking about a natural event? Is fate tempted when we speak of grain being reaped?

I smiled when I found this quote. I am feeling much better today than I was when I began this letter to you. I spent this evening playing games and reading books with my son. There is no more consoling philosophy than play, and my son is the master teacher.

As I kissed him goodnight he told me excitedly of his plans for the next day.

Thank you Marcus, even if sometimes your advice is difficult, sometimes misleading, sometimes confusing, your book has a permanent place on my bedside table.

With gratitude and respect.

Morgan.

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.

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

While this was going on, your close friend and secretary, your freedman Tiro, was ill again, and many letters pass between you, as with your customary paternal concern, you insist on his resting and getting the best medical care that your substantial wealth can afford before travelling to join with you again.

CCLXXXIV

To Tiro

November 3^rd, 50BCE

“If you do what will best conduce to your recovery, you will be most strictly be obeying my wishes. In considering these matters let your own heart be your guide. I miss you : yes! But I also love you. Love prompts the wish to see you in good health; the other motive would make me wish to see you as soon as possible. The former is therefore to be preferred. Accordingly, let your first care be to get well : of the innumerable services which you have done me this will be the most acceptable.”

CCLXXXV

To Tiro

November 5^th, 50BCE

“I cannot express to you in a letter, nor do I wish to do so, what my feelings are. I will merely say, that the greatest possible pleasure both to yourself and me will be to see you as soon as possible in restored health. We arrived at Alyzia on the third day after leaving you. The place is 120 stades (about 15 miles) south of Leucas. At Leucas I am expecting either to receive you, or a letter from you by the hands of Mario. Let your efforts to be well be as strong as your affection for me, or as you know mine to be for you.”

I have been reading Seneca's epistle on friendship, and with your life thus encompassed by the troubles of your friends, I found this little section worth quoting here from Epistle IX, On Philosophy and Friendship, from the Epistulae Morales.

“For what purpose then, do I make a man my friend? In order to have someone for whom I may die, whom I may follow into exile, against whose death I may stake my own life, and pay the pledge too....Beyond question, the feeling of a lover has in it something akin to friendship; one might call it friendship run mad.”

This idea, this feeling, that true friendship is the willingness to die for that friend is a powerful sentiment that seems extreme in my peaceful life, yet, only a few weeks ago a friend of mine expressed a similar notion. She stated that she could never love a man whom she felt would not willingly sacrifice his life to protect her. This concept of sacrifice, which must be familiar to you Cicero, considering your feelings for Pompey and his cause, runs somewhat against the grain of my own feeling, which has more in common with a statement made by the 20^th century military commander, Patton, which, as he was addressing his soldiers, went something like this:

People say that you must be willing to sacrifice your life to protect your country. This is wrong. You have to live! You have to make the enemy sacrifice his life.

Of course, this is a hypothetical discussion, there are circumstances where sacrifice is the only option, dangerous situations in which no enemy is present that might be slain for the greater good of protecting what I love. I, like you Cicero, am no soldier, no trained combatant, and do not possess the skills for military action, yet you led troops to battle (not 'in battle'), to protect the Roman province of Cilicia, and at the end of your life, you willingly stuck your neck out for the assassins sword, not to protect any friend, but in defence of your own dignity, knowing that to go on living in fear, on the run, served no good purpose. Even though your son would then live without his father, you died in such a way that your courage would be an example. Perhaps this was your last gift to him.

But I am getting ahead of myself, there are many years to go before that day.

So, getting back to Caesar, there is something about the debt situation in Rome that I would like to bring up. It goes back to the Gracchus brothers, and it concerns the obscene levels of debt experienced by both rich and poor in Rome. The proposal of debt cancellation is generally thought of as a policy which would be supported by the plebeian poor, but there were just as many of the upper class citizens who were in debt 'up to their eyeballs' as we say, and whose votes and political support could be bought with the promise of debt cancellation. Of course, most of the tribunes and senators who had tried to introduce such a policy in the past were assassinated, but Caesar found a different solution. Plutarch tells it this way in his Life of Caesar:

[29.2]

However, by the time that the consulship of Marcellus was over Caesar was already in a most lavish way making available to public figures in Rome the wealth which he had won in Gaul. He paid the enormous debts of the tribune Curio; and he gave the consul Paulus fifteen hundred talents with which he added to the beauty of the forum by building the famous Basillica which was erected in the place of the one known as 'the Fulvia'.

Basilica Fulvia-Aemilia

*

By December 50 BCE, War was knocking on the door. Pompey was already marching with his forces and Caesar got closer to Rome every day. You write to Atticus (CCXCV) “The political situation gives me great terror every day...what we want is peace. From a victor, among many evil results, one, at any rate will be the rise of a tyrant. Later, in speaking of Caesar, you point out the ugly truth of your own involvement in the present trouble. For I am one who thinks it more expedient to yield to his demands than to fight. For it is too late in the day to be resisting a man, whom we have been nursing up against ourselves the ten years past.

The choice between tyrants is no choice at all. Seneca, who was writing a hundred years after your death, said something rather poignant on the topic, and though it regards that gruff stoic, Cato, I think perhaps that it might apply to you as well. I quote now from Epistle XIV

“Cato's voice strove to check a civil war. Cato parted the swords of maddened chieftains. When some fell foul of Pompey and others fell foul of Caesar, Cato defied both parties at once! Nevertheless, one may question whether, in those days, a wise man ought to have taken any part in public affairs,...It is not now a question of freedom; long since has freedom gone to rack and ruin. The question is whether it is Caesar or Pompey who controls the state. Why, Cato, should you take sides in that dispute? It is no business of yours; a tyrant is being selected. What does it concern you who conquers? 'The better man may win; but the winner is bound to be the worse man'.”

'Potest melior vincere, non potest non peior esse, qui vicerit'

Or, as Tacitus puts it in his Histories (Bk 1, section 50) “Prayers for either would be impious, vows for either would be blasphemy, when from their conflict you can learn only that the conqueror must be the worse of the two.”

Though Tacitus was in that instance making this point about Otho and Vitellius, he knew very well the history of Pompey and Caesar. Tacitus, like Seneca, had probably read some of your books, Cicero, perhaps even some of your letters. Yet it is eerily familiar that in politics it so often boils down to a choice between two tyrants. What is a wise man to do in such a circumstance? It would be expedient to simply leave Italy, to take your family and run as far from Rome as possible. But you, Cicero, could never abandon the Republic, though it had long since crumbled and you stood trembling in the ruins calling for peace, for justice.

CCXCVII

To Atticus

December 50 BCE

“We should have resisted him (Caesar) when he was weak, and that would have been easy. Now we are confronted by eleven legions, cavalry at his desire, the Transpandani, the city rabble, all these tribunes, a rising generation corrupted as we see, a leader of such influence and audacity. With such a man we must either fight a pitched battle, or admit his candidature in virtue of the law. “Fight,” say you, “rather than be a slave.” To what end? To be proscribed if beaten : to be a slave after all, if victorious. “What do you mean to do then?” say you. Just what animals do, who when scattered follow the flocks of their own kind. As an ox follows a herd, so shall I follow the loyalists or whoever are said to be the loyalists, even if they take a disastrous course.”