The Good Book

by A. C. Grayling

  17. ‘It honours them and consoles us, and keeps them with us in our hearts.’

  18. To think of friends who are alive and well is like enjoying a meal of cakes and honey; the recollection of friends who have passed away gives a pleasure that is not without a touch of bitterness.

  19. Yet to me, the thought of my dead friends is a consolation nevertheless. For I have had them as if I should one day lose them; I have lost them as if I have them still.

  20. Therefore act as befits your own serenity of mind, and cease to put a wrong interpretation on the chances of life and death.

  21. Death has taken away, but life has given. Let us greedily enjoy our friends, because we do not know how long this privilege will be ours.

  22. Let us think how often we shall leave them when we go on distant journeys, and how often we shall fail to see them even when we are in the same town;

  23. We shall thus understand that we have lost too much of their time while they were alive.

  24. But will you tolerate men who are most careless of their friends, and then mourn them most abjectly, and do not love anyone unless they have lost him?

  25. If we have other friends, we surely deserve ill at their hands and think ill of them, if they are of so little account that they fail to console us for the loss of one friend.

  26. You have buried one whom you loved; look to the others you love and cherish them the more; now is the time for the living to comfort one another.

  27. A man ends his grief by the mere passing of time, even if he has not ended it of his own accord.

  28. But the most shameful cure for sorrow, in the case of a sensible man, is to grow weary of sorrowing.

  29. I should prefer you to move on from grief by choice, rather than have grief abandon you; and you should stop grieving as soon as possible,

  30. And honour the dead with loving remembrance that is positive and enhances your life, not hinders it: just as they would wish.

  31. He who writes these words to you is no other than I, who wept so excessively for my own dear friend,

  32. So that, in spite of my wishes, I must be included among the examples of men who have been overcome by grief.

  33. Today, however, I regret this act of mine, and understand that the reason why I lamented so greatly was that I had never imagined it possible for his death to precede mine.

  34. The only thought which occurred to me was that he was the younger, and much younger, too – as if nature kept to the order of our ages!

  35. Therefore let us continually think as much about our own mortality as about that of all those we love.

  36. In former days I ought to have said: ‘My friend is younger than I; but what does that matter? He would naturally die after me, but he may precede me.’

  37. It was just because I did not do this that I was unprepared when fortune dealt me the sudden blow.

  38. Now is the time for you to reflect, not only that all things are mortal, but also that their mortality is subject to no fixed law.

  39. Whatever can happen at any time can happen today.

  40. Let us therefore reflect that we shall soon come to the goal which this beloved friend, to our own sorrow, has reached.

  Chapter 5: To Marcia

  1. If I did not know, Marcia, that you are as far removed from weakness of mind as from all other vices,

  2. I should not dare to assail your grief – the grief that we are all prone to nurse and brood upon;

  3. Nor should I have hoped to be able to comfort you with philosophy in this trial.

  4. But your strength of mind has been already so tested, and your courage, after such a tragic loss, so approved,

  5. That this gives me confidence to try. How you bore yourself in relation to your father is common knowledge;

  6. For you loved him as dearly as you love your children, save only that you did not wish him to outlive you.

  7. And yet I am not sure that you did not wish even that; for great affection sometimes ventures to break the natural law.

  8. You dissuaded your father from taking his own life as long as you could;

  9. After it became clear that, surrounded as he was by his enemies sent by Sejanus, he had no other way of escape from servitude,

  10. So though you did not favour his plan, you acknowledged defeat, and you routed your tears in public and choked down your sobs,

  11. Yet in spite of your composed face you did not conceal them – and these things in an age when the supremely filial was simply not to be unfilial!

  12. When, however, changed times gave you an opportunity, you recovered for the benefit of men that genius of your father which had brought him to his end,

  13. And thus saved him from the only real death, which is oblivion;

  14. And the books which that brave hero had written with his own blood you restored to their place among the memorials of the nation.

  15. You have done a great service to scholarship, for a large part of his writings had been burned;

  16. You have done a great service to posterity, for history will come to them as an uncorrupted record whose honesty cost its author dear;

  17. And you have done a great service to the man himself, whose memory now lives and will ever live so long as it shall be worthwhile to learn the facts of Roman history,

  18. So long as there shall be anyone who will wish to know what it is to be unconquered when all necks are bowed and forced to bear the yoke of a tyrant:

  19. What it is to be free in thought, in purpose and in act.

  20. A great loss, in very truth, would the world have suffered, if you had not rescued this man who was made to suffer for the sake of two of the noblest things: eloquence and freedom.

  21. But his books are now read, so he lives, and is held in the hands and hearts of men; thus he fears no passing of the years;

  22. But his enemies, and even their crimes by which alone they deserved to be remembered, will soon be heard of no more.

  Chapter 6

  1. See! I have recalled to your memory old misfortunes, and, that you may know that even this deep wound will surely heal, I have shown you the scar of an old wound that was not less severe.

  2. And so let others deal with you gently and ply soft words. I myself have determined to battle with your grief, and your eyes that are wearied and worn with weeping;

  3. Which shall be checked by measures that, if so it may be, you welcome;

  4. If not, even against your will, even though you hug and embrace the sorrow that you have kept alive in place of this newly lost one.

  5. Otherwise what end will your grief have? Every means has been tried in vain:

  6. The consolations of your friends, the persuasions of great men who were your relatives, have been exhausted;

  7. Books, your love for which was a gift from your father, are now void of comfort and scarcely serve for brief distraction, and make their appeal to your unheeding eyes in vain.

  8. Even time, nature’s great healer, that heals even our most grievous sorrows, in your case has lost its power.

  9. Three whole years have now passed, and yet the first violence of your sorrow has in no way abated.

  10. Your grief is renewed and grows stronger every day – by lingering it has established its right to stay, and has now reached the point that it is ashamed to make an end,

  11. Just as all vices become deep-rooted unless they are crushed when they spring up, so, too, such a state of sadness and wretchedness,

  12. With its self-afflicted torture, feeds at last upon its own bitterness, and the grief of an unhappy mind becomes a morbid pleasure.

  13. And so I should have liked to approach your cure in the first stages of your sorrow;

  14. While it was still young a gentler remedy might have been used to check its violence; but against inveterate evils the fight must be more vehement.

  15. This is likewise true of wounds – they are easy to heal while they are still fresh and bloody,

&
nbsp; 16. But when they have festered and turned into a wicked sore, then they must be cauterised and, opened up to the very bottom, must submit to probing fingers.

  17. As it is, I cannot possibly be a match for such hardened grief by being considerate and gentle; it must be challenged.

  Chapter 7

  1. I am aware that all those who wish to give admonition commonly begin with precepts, and end with examples.

  2. But it is desirable at times to alter this practice; for different people must be dealt with differently.

  3. Some are guided by reason, some must be confronted with famous names and an authority that does not leave a man’s mind free, dazzled as he is by famous deeds.

  4. I shall place before your eyes only two examples – the greatest of your sex and century:

  5. One, a woman who allowed herself to be swept away by grief; the other, a woman who, though she suffered a like misfortune and even greater loss,

  6. Yet did not permit her ills to master her for long, but quickly restored her mind to its accustomed state.

  7. They are Octavia and Livia, the first the sister of the Emperor Augustus, the other his wife.

  8. They had both lost their sons, young men with the well-assured hope of becoming emperor.

  9. Octavia lost Marcellus, upon whom Augustus, at once his uncle and his father-in-law, had begun to lean, upon whom he had begun to rest the burden of empire;

  10. A young man of keen mind, of commanding ability, yet marked by a frugality and self-restraint that, for one of his years and wealth, commanded the highest admiration;

  11. Patient under hardships, averse to pleasures, and ready to bear whatever his uncle might wish to place upon him.

  12. Well had Augustus chosen a foundation that would not sink beneath any weight.

  13. Through all the rest of her life Octavia set no bounds to her tears and sighs, and closed her ears to all words that offered wholesome advice;

  14. With her whole mind fixed and centred upon one single thing, she did not allow herself even to relax.

  15. Such she remained during her whole life as she was at the funeral; I do not say lacking the courage to rise,

  16. But refusing to be uplifted, counting any loss of tears a second bereavement.

  17. Not a single portrait would she have of her darling son, not one mention of his name in her hearing.

  18. She hated all mothers, and was inflamed most of all against Livia,

  19. Because it seemed that the happiness which had once been held out to herself had passed to the other woman’s son.

  20. Companioned ever by darkness and solitude, giving no thought even to her brother,

  21. She spurned the poems that were written to glorify the memory of Marcellus and all other literary honours, and closed her ears to every form of consolation.

  22. Withdrawing from all her accustomed duties and hating even the good fortune that her brother’s greatness shed around her, she buried herself in seclusion.

  23. Surrounded by children and grandchildren, she would not lay aside her garb of mourning, and, putting a slight on all her nearest, accounted herself utterly bereft though they still lived.

  Chapter 8

  1. And now reflect on Livia. She lost her son Drusus, who would have made a great emperor, and had already shown himself a great leader.

  2. For he had penetrated far into Germany, and had planted the Roman standards in a region where it was scarcely known that any Romans existed.

  3. He had died on the campaign, and his very foes had reverently honoured his sickbed by maintaining peace along with us.

  4. His death received the unbounded sorrow of his fellow-citizens, of the provinces, and of all Italy,

  5. Through the length of which crowds poured forth from the towns and colonies, and, escorting the funeral train all the way to the city, made it seem more like a triumph.

  6. His mother had not been permitted to receive her son’s last kisses and drink in the fond words of his dying lips.

  7. On the long journey through which she accompanied the remains of her dear Drusus, her heart was harrowed by the countless pyres that flamed throughout all Italy,

  8. For on each she seemed to be losing her son afresh; yet as soon as she had placed him in the tomb, along with her son she laid away her sorrow,

  9. And grieved no more than was respectful to the rest of her family, seeing, that they were alive.

  10. And lastly, she never ceased from proclaiming the name of her dear Drusus.

  11. She had him pictured everywhere, in private and in public places, and it was her greatest pleasure to talk about him and to listen to the talk of others; she lived with his memory.

  12. But no one can cherish and cling to a memory that has become an affliction to himself. Livia conquered grief by keeping Drusus alive in her heart.

  13. Choose, therefore, which of these two examples to follow.

  14. If you prefer Octavia’s example, you will remove yourself from the number of the living;

  15. You will turn away your eyes both from other people’s children and from your own, even from him whom you mourn;

  16. Mothers will regard you as an unhappy example; honourable and permissible pleasures you will renounce as ill-becoming to your plight;

  17. Hating the light of day, you will linger in it, and your deepest offence will be your age, because the years do not hurry you on and make an end of you as soon as possible;

  18. You will show that you are unwilling to live and unable to die.

  19. If, on the other hand, you follow the example of Livia, showing thus a more restrained and more gentle spirit, you will not dwell in sorrow, nor rack yourself with anguish.

  20. For what madness it is – how monstrous! – to punish oneself for misfortune and add new ills to present ills!

  21. That correctness of character and self-restraint which you have maintained all your life, you should exhibit in this matter also;

  22. For there is such a thing as moderation even in grieving.

  23. And as to he whom you have lost, who so richly deserved that mention of him should always bring you joy,

  24. He will occupy a more fitting place, if he comes before his mother as the same merry and joyous son that he used to be when he was alive.

  25. Nor shall I direct your mind to precepts of the sterner sort, so as to bid you bear a human fortune in inhuman fashion, so as to dry a mother’s eyes on the very day of burial.

  26. But I shall come with you before an arbiter, and this will be the question at issue between us – whether grief ought to be deep or never-ending.

  Chapter 9

  1. I do not doubt that the example of Livia, your intimate friend, will be a good one for you; she summons you to follow her.

  2. She, during the first passion of grief, when its sufferers are most unsubmissive and most passionate, made herself accessible to the philosopher Areus, the friend of her husband,

  3. And later confessed that she had gained much help from that source – more than from the Roman people, whom she was unwilling to sadden with this sadness of her own;

  4. More than from Augustus, who was staggering under the loss of one of his main supports, and was in no condition to be further burdened by the grief of his dear ones;

  5. More than from her son Tiberius, whose devotion at that untimely funeral, that made the nations weep,

  6. Kept her from feeling that she had suffered any loss except in the number of her sons.

  7. It was thus that Areus approached her, it was thus he commenced to address one who clung most tenaciously to her own opinion:

  8. ‘Up to this day, Livia, you have taken pains that no one should find anything at all in you to criticise; and not only in large matters, but in the smallest trifles,

  9. ‘You have been on your guard not to do anything that you could wish public opinion, that most unforgiving of judges, to excuse.

  10. ‘And nothing, I think, is more admirable than the
rule that those who have been placed in high position should bestow pardon for many things, should seek pardon for none.

  11. ‘And so in this matter also you must still hold to your practice of doing nothing that you could wish undone, or done otherwise.

  12. ‘Furthermore I beg you, do not make yourself unapproachable and difficult to your friends.

  13. ‘For surely you must be aware that none of them know how to conduct themselves – whether they should speak of Drusus in your presence or not,

  14. ‘Wishing neither to wrong so distinguished a youth by forgetting him, nor to hurt you by mentioning him.

  15. ‘When we have withdrawn from your company and are gathered together, we extol his deeds and words with all the veneration he deserved;

  16. ‘In your presence there is deep silence about him. And so you are missing a very great pleasure in not hearing the praises of your son,

  17. ‘Which I doubt not, you would be glad, if you should be given the opportunity, to prolong to all times even at the cost of your life.

  18. ‘Therefore submit to conversation about your son; indeed, encourage it, and let your ears be open to his name and memory;

  19. ‘And do not consider this burdensome, after the fashion of some others, who in a calamity of this sort count it an added misfortune to listen to words of comfort.

  20. ‘As it is, you have tended wholly to the other extreme, and, forgetting the better aspects of your fortune, you gaze only on its worse side.

  21. ‘You do not turn your thought to the happy times you had with your son, nor to his fond and boyish caresses, nor to the progress of his studies;

  22. ‘You dwell only on that last appearance of fortune, and just as if it were not horrible enough in itself, you add to it all the horror you can.

  23. ‘Do not, I entreat you, covet that most perverse distinction – that of being considered the most unhappy of women!

  24. ‘Reflect, too, that it is no great thing to show oneself brave in the midst of prosperity, when life glides on in a tranquil course;

  25. ‘A quiet sea and a favouring wind do not show the skill of a pilot either; some hardship must be encountered that will test his ability.

  26. ‘Accordingly, do not be bowed down; on the contrary, plant your feet firmly, and, upset only at first by the din, support whatever burden may fall.