The Good Book

by A. C. Grayling

  26. That there might be someone to protect the wrecks of the calamity which had fallen on us both, and guard our common children?

  27. I dreaded the renewed lamentation which our meeting would cause: while I could not have borne your departure,

  28. And was afraid of the very thing you mention in your letter – that you would be unable to tear yourself away.

  29. For these reasons the supreme pain of not seeing you – and nothing more painful or more wretched could, I think, have happened to the most affectionate and united of brothers –

  30. Was a lesser misery than would have been such a meeting followed by such a parting.

  Chapter 15

  1. Now, if you can, though I, whom you always regarded as a brave man, cannot do so, rouse yourself and collect your energies in view of any challenge you may have to confront.

  2. I hope, if my hope has anything to go upon, that your own spotless character and the love of your fellow citizens, and even remorse for my treatment, may prove a protection to you.

  3. But if it turns out that you are free from personal danger, you will doubtless do whatever you think can be done for me.

  4. In that matter, indeed, many write to me at great length and declare they have hopes;

  5. But I personally cannot see what hope there is, since my enemies have the greatest influence,

  6. While my friends have in some cases deserted, in others even betrayed me.

  7. I shall continue to live as long as you shall need me, in view of any danger you may have to undergo:

  8. Longer than that I cannot go in this kind of life. For there is neither wisdom nor philosophy with sufficient strength to sustain such a weight of grief.

  9. I know that there has been a time for dying, more honourable and more advantageous; and this is not the only one of my many omissions;

  10. Which, if I should choose to bewail, I should merely be increasing your sorrow and emphasising my own stupidity.

  11. But one thing I am not bound to do, and it is in fact impossible:

  12. Remain in a life so wretched and so dishonoured any longer than your necessities, or some well-grounded hope, shall demand.

  13. For I, who was lately supremely blessed in brother, children, wife, wealth, and in the very nature of that wealth,

  14. While in position, influence, reputation, and popularity, I was inferior to none, however, distinguished –

  15. I cannot, I repeat, go on longer lamenting over myself and those dear to me in a life of such humiliation as this, and in a state of such utter ruin.

  16. I see and feel, to my misery, of what a culpable act I have been guilty in squandering to no purpose the money which I received from the treasury in your name,

  17. I hope beyond hope that our enemies may be content with these endless miseries of ours; among which, after all, there is no discredit for any wrong thing done;

  18. Sorrow is the beginning and end, sorrow that punishment is most severe when our conduct has been most unexceptionable.

  19. As to my daughter and yours and my young son, why should I recommend them to you, my dear brother?

  20. Rather I grieve that their orphan state will cause you no less sorrow than it does me.

  21. Yet as long as you are uncondemned they will not be fatherless.

  22. The rest, by my hopes of restoration and the privilege of dying in my fatherland, my tears will not allow me to write!

  23. Terentia also I would ask you to protect, and to write me word on every subject.

  24. Be as brave as the nature of the case admits, and I will endeavour to be likewise.

  Chapter 16

  1. Yes indeed, my dear Servius, I would have wished that you had been by my side at the time of my grievous loss.

  2. How much help your presence might have given me, both by consolation and by your taking an almost equal share in my sorrow,

  3. I know from the fact that after reading your letter I experienced a great feeling of relief.

  4. For not only was what you wrote calculated to soothe a mourner, but in offering me consolation you manifested no slight sorrow of heart yourself.

  5. Yet, after all, your son Servius by all the kindness of which such a time admitted made it evident, both how much he personally valued me,

  6. And how gratifying to you he thought such affection for me would be. His kind offices have often been pleasanter to me, yet never more acceptable.

  7. For myself again, it is not only your words and your partnership in my sorrow that consoles me, it is your character also.

  8. For I think it a disgrace that I should not bear my loss as you – a man of such wisdom – think it should be borne.

  9. But at times I am taken by surprise and scarcely offer any resistance to my grief,

  10. Because those consolations fail me, which were not wanting in a similar misfortune to those others, whose examples I put before my eyes.

  11. After losing the honours which I had gained by the greatest possible exertions, there was only that one solace left which has now been torn away.

  12. My sad musings were not interrupted by the business of my friends, nor by the management of public affairs:

  13. There was nothing I cared to do in the forum; I could not bear the sight of the senate-house;

  14. I thought – as was the fact – that I had lost all the fruits both of my industry and of fortune.

  15. But while I thought that I shared these losses with you and certain others, and while I was conquering my feelings and forcing myself to bear them with patience,

  16. I had a refuge, one bosom where I could find repose, one in whose conversation and sweetness I could lay aside all anxieties and sorrows.

  17. But now, after such a crushing blow as this, the wounds which seemed to have healed break out afresh.

  18. For there is no republic now to offer me a refuge and a consolation by its good fortunes when I leave my home in sorrow,

  19. As there once was a home to receive me when I returned saddened by the state of public affairs.

  20. Hence I absent myself from both home and forum, because home can no longer console the sorrow which public affairs cause me, nor public affairs that which I suffer at home.

  21. All the more I look forward to your coming, and long to see you as soon as possible.

  22. No reasoning can give me greater solace than a renewal of our friendship and conversation.

  23. In our sadness and sorrow we need our friends, and I cannot imagine how life can be borne without them.

  24. Where should we be if there were no love? Unhappy, most unhappy, all who are forsaken in their times of trouble,

  25. All who lament, and feel the weariness and burden of the world in their suffering.

  Consolations

  Chapter 1: Of grief: Laelius on the death of Scipio

  1. How are we to bear the loss of those we loved? Is there wisdom that can save us from the worst grief, and give us strength to bear what all of us must learn, one inevitable day, to bear?

  2. Consider what Laelius said when asked about the death of his friend Scipio, with whom he had passed all his life in work, in war, in office and in affection.

  3. A friend said to Laelius, ‘You are accounted wise not only for your natural ability and character, but also for your learning.

  4. ‘In this sense we hear of no one called wise save that one man at Athens, Socrates, who desired to know the good.

  5. ‘Your wisdom consists in this, that you look upon yourself as self-sufficing, and regard the accidents of life as powerless to affect your virtue.

  6. ‘How then do you respond to the death of your dear friend Scipio: for such grief is both a test of character, and a mark of the nature of friendship.

  7. ‘For you did not come to our regular meeting at our college, and it was asked: how fares Laelius in the death of Scipio?

  8. ‘What does a man reputed for wisdom think and feel in this heavy case?

  9. ‘I
see that you bear your grief in a reasoned manner, even though you have lost one who was at the same time your dearest friend and a man of illustrious character;

  10. ‘So of course you could not but be affected; nothing else would have been natural in a man of your gentleness;

  11. ‘But yet I think that the cause of your absence from our college was illness, not melancholy; I do not think grief has defeated you.’

  12. To which Laelius replied: ‘My thanks, friend! What you say is correct; I would have no right, if in health, to withdraw from duties, not even for personal misfortune;

  13. ‘For I do not think that anything that can happen will cause a man of principle to intermit a duty.

  14. ‘As for the honourable appellation of wisdom you give me, I make no claim: you doubtless say this from affection;

  15. ‘But if anyone was ever truly wise, which I yet doubt, the great Cato most certainly was.

  16. ‘Putting aside everything else, consider how he bore his son’s death! I have not forgotten those who lost their sons when mere children; but Cato lost his when full-grown with an assured reputation.

  17. ‘Do not therefore be in a hurry to reckon as Cato’s superior even Socrates, for remember that the former’s reputation rests on deeds, the latter’s on words.

  18. ‘But if I were to claim not to be affected by grief for Scipio, I should lie, for so I am:

  19. ‘Affected by the loss of a friend as I think there will never be again, such as I can fearlessly say there never was before.

  20. ‘Yet I stand in no need of medicine. I can find my own consolation, and it consists chiefly in being free from the mistaken notions that generally cause pain at the death of friends.

  21. ‘To Scipio I am convinced no evil has befallen. Mine is the disaster, if disaster there be; and to be prostrated by distress at one’s own misfortunes does not show that you love your friend, but that you love yourself.

  22. ‘As for him, who can say that all is not more than well? He rests for ever now; and this after attainments in life which any man would wish for.

  23. ‘He achieved great things by his unswerving dedication in the work that the world and our community asked of him.

  24. ‘What need even to mention the grace of his manners, his devotion to those he loved, the integrity of his conduct to everyone?

  25. ‘All this is known. What could such a man have gained by the addition of a few years?

  26. ‘Though age need not be a burden, yet it cannot but take away a measure of vigour and freshness;

  27. ‘And with little more to add, there is nothing that is lost when so much stands already gained.

  28. ‘Wherefore, as I said before, all is as well as possible with him: he sleeps, after much achievement.’

  Chapter 2

  1. ‘Not so with me; for as I entered life before him, it would have been fairer for me to leave it also before him.

  2. ‘Yet such is the pleasure I take in recalling our friendship, that I look upon my life as having been a happy one because I have spent it with Scipio.

  3. ‘With him I was associated in public and private business; with him I lived at home and served abroad;

  4. ‘Between us there was harmony in our tastes, our pursuits and our sentiments, which is the true secret of friendship.

  5. ‘It is not therefore in that reputation for wisdom you mentioned just now, especially as it happens to be groundless, that I find my happiness so much,

  6. ‘As in the assurance that the memory of our friendship will be lasting.

  7. ‘What makes me care about this is the fact that in all history there are scarcely three or four pairs of friends on record;

  8. ‘And it is classed with them that I cherish a hope of the friendship of Scipio and Laelius being known to posterity.

  9. ‘Therefore though I grieve for Scipio, I take comfort and strength in what our friendship was like, and both he and our friendship survive this mere change;

  10. ‘We walked the earth together, and learned and shared much together; none of this can be taken away.

  11. ‘I think what he would wish for me, could he wish it now: that I would not allow my missing him to make me fail in my duties to myself, to others, and to his memory.

  12. ‘I dwell with pleasure on the good of the past, and summon courage to bear his absence now, and turn outward to others who likewise grieve, to comfort them in their affliction;

  13. ‘For there is comfort in what we share, and in the knowledge that others understand how we feel.

  14. ‘Nothing can replace Scipio, as nothing can replace any of those we love. We do not cease to grieve, but we learn to live with grief;

  15. ‘These are our consolations, if we face the inevitabilities of life bravely,

  16. ‘Nobly enduring, accepting the sincere condolences of our living friends,

  17. ‘Again and again calling upon ourselves for the courage to live on as those who loved us would wish us to live.

  18. ‘In this knowledge of our duty to ourselves and the dead we find the strength to perform that duty; and in that performance is our consolation.’

  Chapter 3: Of grief: to Apollonius

  1. Even before this time, Apollonius, I felt for you in your sorrow and trouble, when I heard of the untimely passing from life of your son, who was so dear to us all.

  2. In those days, close upon the time of his death, to visit you and urge you to bear your suffering would have been unsuitable,

  3. For you were prostrated by the unexpected calamity; and I could not help sharing in your feeling, and would have added to the weeping around you.

  4. Now since time, which assuages all things, has intervened since the calamity, and your present condition demands the aid of your friends,

  5. I send you some words of comfort, for the mitigation of grief and the pain of your lamentations.

  6. Though there are many emotions that affect the mind, yet grief, from its nature, is the most cruel of all.

  7. The pain felt at the death of one we love so dearly is a great cause to awaken grief, and over it we have no control.

  8. Yet think of what we say about the right attitude to prosperity and good fortune:

  9. We counsel ourselves to treat them rationally, and to maintain a becoming attitude towards them;

  10. To put them in proportion, and understand that they are part of the possibilities of life that come and go, and are never certain.

  11. If this is how we must view the good that might visit us, it is likewise how we must view the suffering that life brings.

  12. For it is a rational safeguard, when pain of mind comes, to provide oneself with a noble patience to endure it.

  13. Just as plants are at one time in a season of fruitage and at another time in a season of unfruitfulness,

  14. And animals are at one time in fecundity and at another time in barrenness,

  15. And on the sea and over the mountains there is both fair weather and storm,

  16. So also in life many diverse circumstances occur which bring their changes and reversals in human fortunes;

  17. This everyone knows who lives. Yet to try to find constancy in what is inconstant is a trait of people who do not rightly reason about the circumstances of life.

  18. Why do I turn your thoughts in this direction? It is to remind you that misfortune is nothing novel for humankind,

  19. But that we all have had the same experience of it, and share it with you; and we wish to remind you that though we never forget, yet the scars heal.

  20. Come then and rest on a seat with me in the garden; let us suffer our sorrows to slumber quietly now in our bosoms, in spite of our afflictions;

  21. Nothing is ever accomplished by yielding too far to grief and painful lamentation.

  22. Now is the time for courage and endurance, now is the time to turn our thoughts to the living who are dear to us too,

  23. And not to take ourselves from them, but to help them with our own patience
and strength to bear what must be borne; for they bear it too.

  Chapter 4: Of grief: to a friend

  1. I am grieved to hear that he is dead whom you loved, but I would not have you sorrow more than is fitting.

  2. That you should not mourn at all I shall hardly dare insist; and yet I know that it is the better way; for he is at peace, safe from any further harms,

  3. And you and his other friends will cherish the best memories of him, and speak of him, thus making him part of life still.

  4. But what man will ever be so endowed with that ideal steadfastness of mind, unless he has already risen far above the reach of chance, not to mourn?

  5. Even the most stoical would be stung by an event like this, though for him it were only a sting.

  6. We, however, may be forgiven our tears, if only our tears have not flowed to excess.

  7. We may weep, but we must not wail. Do you think that this advice is harsh?

  8. Well: only consider the reason for lamentations and weeping. It is because we mourn for ourselves as well as for he who has left us; we are sad because we are bereft.

  9. But what would your friend say to you, if he could? That he welcomes the love for him you thus show, but that he does not wish you to suffer too much or too long.

  10. He will say, let the time not be distant that you put off the soothing of every regret, the quieting of even the bitterest grief.

  11. As soon as you cease to observe yourself, the picture of sorrow which you have contemplated will fade away;

  12. At present you are keeping watch over your own suffering, and that prolongs it.

  13. Let us see to it that the recollection of those whom we loved and have lost becomes a pleasant memory to us.

  14. No man reverts with pleasure to any subject which he cannot reflect upon without pain.

  15. So too it must be that the names of those whom we have lost come back to us with a grievous pang;

  16. But when we recall the best and dearest things about them, and what they added to our own lives by their lives, we can even say, ‘The remembrance of lost friends is a good;