Praising Old Age

Praising Old Age

Charlie Munger reflects on Cicero’s De Senectute. The first-person essay describes his reading and circumstances at the time it was written.

In 1744, Ben Franklin was still a relatively unknown tradesman engaged in printing in Philadelphia. At that time, he published, as a non-commercial labor of love, a book containing the first American translation from Latin into English of Cicero's de Senectute. Cicero had written this work, praising old age, in roughly the sixtieth year of his life.

I first heard of this book in 2006 when I received from my friends, Angus and Lucy McBain, an exact reprint of Franklin's 1744 translation. It was entitled Cicero, on a Life well Spent (2005, Levenger Press). I practically went into orbit upon seeing a work by Cicero that I could not recall ever having heard of, full of praise for old age. Perhaps the McBains figured I needed an authoritative book explaining the many opportunities and consolations still available to me at age 82. Whatever their motivations, the McBains inspired the following reflections.

When I first learned of Cicero while studying Latin at Omaha Central High at the tail-end of the Great Depression, it did not seem sad to me that Cicero had died shortly after the ending of the republican form of government he loved.

After all, he would have soon died from some other cause. And all around me I could see that in some important sense Cicero had not fully died. Indeed, it was plain that Cicero dead had favorably influenced many more people than Cicero living. This outcome was caused not by his martyrdom, but by the preserved words of so great an author. Nor had his beloved republican form of government perished irretrievably. In fact, a form of government prescribed by Cicero surrounded me right there in Nebraska. Moreover, not only the form but also the trappings of Ciceronian government were present. The architecture and statuary of Central High were Greco-Roman in nature, reflecting the admirable desire of early Nebraskans to give due credit to ancient models responsible for present felicity.

The full merits of the peculiar form of government that Cicero had recommended and Nebraska had adopted did not come through to me well at Central High, where I did not have an opportunity to study the Cicero tract that explained it. But I later came to share Cicero's governmental views. What he recommended was a combination of aspects of limited-franchise democracy, oligarchy and temporary kingship formed into an elaborate system of checks and balances designed to prevent any one politician from causing unendurable damage. His underlying philosophical view was one of deep and realistic cynicism about human nature, including a distaste for pure mob rule and demagogues. This cynicism was of course counterbalanced by his belief that it was the duty of the citizenry, particularly its most eminent members, to serve the State and its values wisely and vigorously, even if that required a great sacrifice on the part of the servers. All ages have found that the duty part of this prescription is a hard sell. Indeed, Cicero in his own time found it necessary to invent the Latin word 'moralis,' root of our word moral, to help flog his fellow Romans in the right direction.

After I came to share Cicero's political views, I fancied many times that I had been converted out of concern for my fellow man. But now I believe that a man seldom fully knows his own motives. Accordingly, I now think that what moved me, in substantial part, was my recognition that in a value system like Cicero's I would be pretty likely to rise.

As it worked out, I got more out of life than I deserved. And the thought patterns that seem to be rewarded in one's life are usually those which end up as part of one's most intense convictions. And so I have come to like Cicero better and better as the years have rolled by. At one time I even skimmed Trollope's biography of Cicero in the course of deciding never to recommend it to anyone not already a Cicero addict.

Notwithstanding the McBains' questionable social tact in giving an old man a book on aging, their whole judgment was perfect. Cicero's talk would have done me no good at Omaha Central High, where my main ambition was to make a better impression on Shirley Smails. But in 2006 Cicero's discussion of old age met an enthusiastic reception.

For instance, the very first page lightened one of my main burdens. There Cicero reported that the 'thoughts that flowed on me ... in composing [this work] ... proved so entertaining and delightful to me that ... they have [made] Old Age [appear] ... agreeable and comfortable.' Here, obviously, spoke a man of my own kind, automatically entranced and convinced by his own words. I had long believed that I had a social defect in my tendency to gain enthusiasm in the course of telling others what I thought they should know. After all, I often caused antipathy I could partially counteract only through being generous to an extent that was sometimes irksome. Happily, the great Cicero described this trait as a helpful virtue, easing the process of instructing the world. Precisely. But what are we to think of the high school that had this great man give me an extra paragraph or two on the Catiline conspiracy when he could have been telling me to become more confident about my own words? I suppose the answer is that Central High was a pretty good place for its era or that many of my fellow students were so strong in self-regard that they didn't have my youthful need for reassurance.

As I continued through Cicero's pages, I found much more material celebrating my way of life. As the years have passed, I have encountered more and more criticism from being lost in my own thoughts when others were talking to me. This behavior, too, is deemed a virtue by Cicero as he demonstrates in his appraisal of the astronomer Gallus and others like him: 'How often did the rising sun surprise him, fixed on a calculation he began overnight... and how many others we have known in their old age [so] delighting themselves in their studies... ingenious and commendable?'

And Cicero's words also increased my personal satisfaction by supporting my long-standing rejection of a conventional point of view. I have always refused to accept one interpretation of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican in the Christian Bible. Under this interpretation, a learned, pious man, after a long life spent doing his duty, is criticized for rejoicing that he didn't end up like another man who behaved much worse. Cicero, like me, is totally against refraining from enjoyment of this sort of delightful contrast. To him, pride in a job well done is vastly constructive. For instance, it motivates good conduct in early life because, in remembrance, you can make yourself happier when old. To which, aided by modern knowledge, I would add 'and, besides, as you pat yourself on the back for behaving well, you will improve your future conduct.'

In praise of the potentialities of advanced age, Cicero, for pages and pages, recites great accomplishments of war, statecraft and literature by old and eminent men who are made happy by performing so well for so long. For example, he says of one of the great Scipios, 'Had his life been protracted a hundred years, can you suppose it would ever have proved burdensome to him?'

In the course of describing these instances of success in old age, Cicero supplies interesting facts about the Roman political system. He has Cato say: 'It was with great uneasiness to myself that, when Censor, I turned Lucius Flaminius out of the Senate, seven years after he had been consul. But I could not bear that his [killing a Gaul with his own hands merely to amuse his favorite prostitute who missed seeing gladiatorial deaths in Rome] should pass without public censure.' Ah, those were the days! Given such Roman power, would not any wise person now approach the U.S. Senate with delight? And perhaps also publish a list of Senators under review?

Moreover, it is not enough for Cicero to praise the virtues of the old. He also criticizes the defects and follies of the young. In one case he attributes the destruction of a great government to the following cause: 'A parcel of young, raw and ignorant orators smarted up who took upon them to act as statesmen and found means to insinuate themselves with and manage the People.'

Cicero generally weighs the normal advantages of youth as inferior to the normal advantages of age. To this end, he points out that Agamemnon in the war on Troy 'never once wished for ten more men with the strength of Ajax but, instead, wanted ten more with the wisdom of Nestor.'

The age preference of Cicero is clearly attributable to his valuing, most highly, strength of mind over strength of body. In one place he reports: 'Milo is said to have entered into the Olympic field carrying an ox on his back. Now, if the choice were given you, would you prefer Milo's strength of body or Pythagoras' ability of mind?' To Cicero this is a rhetorical question with only one answer.

Cicero, learned man that he was, believed in self-improvement so long as breath lasts. He commends Socrates for learning to play the fiddle late in life and another Roman for mastering Greek when old. Indeed, according to Cicero, the deaths of others that hurt the most are the ones of people you are learning from. And so at one point he has Cato say of Quintus Fabius Maximus: 'I was so fond of hearing him speak [that] I ... feared that when he was taken from us, I should never find another [such] man to improve by.' And Cicero twice quotes with relish what was often said of Solon, the great man of early Athens: 'Daily learning something, he grew old.'

Cicero counsels that the study of philosophy, in a lifelong search for basic causes, is an ideal activity, usually serviceable for old people all the way to the grave.

His praise of this form of learning is unstinting: 'We can never sufficiently admire the excellences of Philosophy; to whose Dictates whosoever submits, he will never fail to find himself [easy] in any stage or condition of life.' When I reflected on Cicero's love of knowledge, as displayed above, I happened to remember what I regard as Cicero's wisest and most cutting critique of Rome, delivered without the need for a single word: When Cicero was Quaestor in Sicily he sought for the grave of Archimedes, by far the greatest mathematician of antiquity, and found it covered with thorns—a natural, defective outcome in a Roman civilization that had almost no interest in either mathematics or science.

As might be expected in a work first published in America by Ben Franklin, Cicero's discourse often supplies recommendations regarding all sorts of conduct, sometimes supported pithily by reasons. For instance, Cicero argues against miserly conduct by the elderly rich: 'Can anything be more senselessly absurd than that the nearer we are to our journey's end, we should still lay in more provision for it?'

And fear of death is silly and unacceptable for this Roman. He reasons that either (a) you are going to a perpetual, better afterlife, or (b) you won't retain any pain if there is no such outcome.

To Cicero it is unworthy that an old man would work to improve only what he would live to enjoy. For him the only life worth living is dedicated in substantial part to good outcomes one cannot possibly survive to see.

Early retirement is criticized by Cicero as virtually unthinkable. He cites the moral idea of Pythagoras that 'no man should quit his post but at the command of his General; that is, of God himself.'

In general, Cicero did not appraise the last part of life as inferior, constituting a poor residue of a better life when young. Not for Cicero is the attitude attributed to Lord Chesterfield who 'having drunk the cup of life three quarters of the way to the bottom was now willing to share the dregs with some wealthy woman.' To Cicero, if you live right, the inferior part of life is the early part.

Cicero believed in the display of great respect to elderly males. He thus had roughly the same good idea as Confucius. Moreover, he counsels old men to stand up for their rights: 'Old age is ever honorable when it takes care to support its proper rights and gives them not weakly away but asserts them to the last.'

Cicero is never in favor of complaining about personal misfortune, and he has reasons. For instance, he does not believe the old should complain about diminutions in sexual vigor. Instead, he thinks they should rejoice that they are now less likely to disgrace themselves or contract venereal diseases. Thus Cicero found benefits in age similar to those discovered by an old friend of mine, here called 'Glotz.' Just before he died at age 75, he said to me: 'I used to be troubled by unwelcome, lustful thoughts about my friends' wives, but, by God, I finally licked it.' However, Cicero is not content when everyone, at 75, is more like Glotz. Cicero, still in his early sixties, brags of his state in which 'voluptuous enjoyments' seem inferior to 'oratory . . . and the Practice of Pleading.' In this the great man may have gone too far in extrapolating a personal preference. Being the greatest lawyer in the world, he may have been misled by his own balance of talents. Surely the rest of us, when still in our early sixties, will not very often prefer litigation as Cicero does.

As part of his opposition to complaining, Cicero points out how silly it is to complain of reaching old age. According to Cicero, the best a young person can hope for is to get old before he dies, and it is not fitting to complain about getting the best outcome you could have ever reasonably wanted.

Cicero, like Cato before him, concedes that, in moderation and meritorious company, the convivial imbibing of wine improves life. So also with stays at one's country place, well tended by others, a practice also favored by Jefferson, who shared Cicero's conviction that such states fostered sound values.

There is a judge-like objective balance in Cicero that makes him shade some of his observations. He has someone ask Cato if his wonderful old age does not benefit from more than his moral attitude, to wit, if his old age has not been benefited by his great success. Cato replies that some benefit probably came from the success.

In reverse, while Cicero argues that handling a low worldly outcome with the right morality and diligence is just as admirable as handling a high outcome, he concedes that abject poverty, if it comes, is inevitably going to make aged life difficult.

But Cicero does not go so far as to concede that wealth will protect the weak and improvident from misery. According to Cicero, the wealthy are sure to suffer if they are lacking in moral and providential skill.

The most celebrated passage in de Senectute is probably the following grand summary: 'The best Armour of Old Age is a well spent life preceding it; a Life employed in the Pursuit of useful Knowledge, in honorable Actions and the Practice of Virtue; in which he who labors to improve himself from his Youth, will in Age reap the happiest Fruits of them; not only because these never leave a Man, nor even in the extremist Old Age; but because a Conscience bearing Witness that our Life was well-spent, together with the Remembrance of past good Actions, yields an unspeakable Comfort to the Soul.'

Do all these prescriptions of Cicero, if followed pretty well, really improve life? Well, by a strange coincidence, Ben Franklin, the man who first published them in America, followed the prescriptions as well as he could. And he lived a very long life, eminent to the end, and left behind a full record of an old age that was among the most constructive and happy ever lived. And this happened despite many disadvantages he suffered, medical and otherwise.

As usual, Ben Franklin improved what he found. Not satisfied with mere cheerful acceptance of an aged state, Franklin relished the role of an old man and played it joyously to a fare-thee-well, while also laboring to help create what he could not possibly live to enjoy. Thus, these ideas of Cicero worked well for Franklin.

And, no doubt, they will still work well for quite a few others. So there is a special reason, apart from Cicero's contributions to political science, in keeping so many statues of Cicero in our public places. In this way Cicero is still being helpful more than two thousand years after Mark Antony tried to rid the world of his influence.

Moreover, Warren Buffett, as a sort of modern baton carrier for a Ciceronian point of view, is now doing a good job in imitating Cicero and Franklin in old age. Not only does Buffett, much like Cato, stay in the arena with no plan to ever leave. He does so joyously and while providing good results for those who will trust him patiently. And from a pulpit built high by worldly success, he also imitates Cicero, Cato and Franklin by communicating much that tells others what they should think and how they should behave.

And his words are often made more acceptable through use of insightful humor.

This highly unusual case, I think, should not cause all others to push so hard as Buffett does to follow almost every perception of Cicero. In the modern world, with its increased wealth and longevity, a great many people live into gross impairment, and others while still in great condition are forced away from high worldly power when they have much life ahead of them. Therefore some cheerful, non-Buffett like adjustment to a reduced worldly role is usually sensible for the old. And, finally, it is wise for the most didactic people to heed the warning, timed to George Bernard Shaw's death, that the world rewards gadflies, but only a few, with those usually chosen because, like Shaw, they tempered morality with wit.

Franklin on ageing

'I guess I don't so much mind being old, as I mind being fat and old. I should have no objection to go over the same life from its beginning to the end: requesting only the advantage authors have, of correcting in a second edition the faults of the first. Life's Tragedy is that we get old too soon and wise too late. When you're finished changing you're finished.'

Franklin was noted for his curiosity, ingenuity and diversity of interests. He continued his career of inventing, writing, and statesmanship and more into old age, developing a phonetic alphabet at age 62. Five years later, he published two of his most celebrated pro-American satirical essays: 'Rules by Which a Great Empire May Be Reduced to a Small One,' and 'An Edict by the King of Prussia.' In 1776 at age 70, Franklin assisted in writing the Declaration of Independence, radically editing Jefferson's draft. Later that year, he was dispatched to France as commissioner for the United States and remained there until 1785. After his return, Franklin became an abolitionist, freeing both of his slaves and eventually becoming president of The Society for the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage. At age 81, Franklin served as delegate to the 1787 meetings that would produce the United States Constitution to replace the Articles of Confederation. He is the only Founding Father who is a signatory of all three of the major documents of the founding of the United States: the Declaration of Independence, the Treaty of Paris and the United States Constitution. On April 17, 1790, he died in his Philadelphia home at age 84, leaving his famous autobiography unfinished. Carried only up to the year 1757, it omitted many of the achievements for which he is best remembered.