Here’s a strong case for reading the older historical works. They better assimilate. I sooner adhere to a maxim, principle or habit practiced among the ancients rather than a blogger or an eloquent voice on a video clip.
Granted, I’ve identified two extremes. However, any relatively recent model, be it a Rubber Barron, a respected post-modern author, or a cult musician, still lacks the authority of the ancient.
The older the source, the more credible the idea, for it has persevered through time. And it’s the examples which really impact.
I could endlessly divulge principle, regurgitate moral philosophies, cognitive enhancers (or distorters), health habits and simplicity strategies. I could produce personal examples for many. And as sound that it be, this manner of presentation still fosters doubt for being subject to the fancies of modernity.
Now the older writing inspires confidence. It reaffirms that human history commenced not last week; that every fortune or malady has reoccurred a time too many. It reaffirms not only in principle, but by way of flesh and bone.
Even modern synthesis dilutes the conviction element, especially with the sugarcoating of the contemporary jargon. The summaries, the recaps, the charming five-ten minute presentations, the spark notes, feel grossly inauthentic.
I feel greater solidity in the material, having invested the time in the original unabridged reading; having accompanied the author’s journey in the full range and weight of thought.
Concerning the sources, I prefer those abundant in examples of human beings performing inspirational deeds; not strictly the Caesars or the Alexanders, but figures of diverse echelon, from servants to jesters to foot soldiers to beggars to prostitutes.
Plutarch, Seneca, Herodotus all cater to some of that criteria. Personally, I take to Montaigne’s essays.
Although a synthesis of material, the sixteenth century publication stands on sufficiently ancient foundation. The strength lies in the galore of examples referenced; sources ranging from ancient Egypt to the author’s period; inferences drawn through own lens and by ways of the classics: Plutarch, Seneca, Cicero, Plato, Horace, Lucretius, Livy, Lucan, Ovid, Virgil, etc.
For readers not thrilled about investing time in one particular ancient cynic, Montaigne’s synthesis renders the comprehensive and the entertaining. The essays cover not only the illustrious and the grandeur, but the seemingly mundane, emphasizing the repetitiveness of our history.
On the subject of favouring austerity to comfort, meet a sixteenth century Cardinal who, despite the accumulated fortune, opted to wear identical garments year round, sleep on straw and spend leisure on the floor in study, nothing for food but bread and water.
Some of the peculiarities I question, although what matter if they be even a product of total fabrication (however remote the likelihood)? I take to the impact over unwavering authenticity.
Montaigne further draws from cultures which, despite the abundance of provisions, opt for the humbleness of bread, cresses and water.
For the weather complainers: King Massinissa of Numidia (of second-third century BC) never covered his head irrespective of the extremities. The same is said of Caesar, of a Polish king that never wore gloves among others. King Agesilaus of Sparta wore the same clothes all year round to a decrepit old age.
Some of this detail may seem trifling taken out of context. But it is precisely what I value within a narrative.
On prudence, Antonio de Leva, the governor of Milan appointed by Emperor Charles V, publicly opposed the emperor’s expedition into Provence. The act served as a kind of simulation, really. Seeing the emperor’s resolve, the governor’s artistry thus consigned the credit for the deed entirely to the emperor.
Edward III refused to reinforce Prince of Wales' troubled campaign in the battle of Crécy (waged between the English and the French), thus guaranteeing his son the honour (at whatever peril), unblemished by intervention.
Some kings and rulers opted for trust and total transparency with the enemy, both at an individual and military levels. Some advertised military campaigns well in advance, entirely disclosing the means, the army particulars, the ammunition and contingency plans. Cited the example of the kingdom of Ternate.
Once informed of an assassination conspiracy, one ruler openly and earnestly engages the conspirator with the sanction to act at will, full pardon granted. This has led to not only a fortuitous outcome for both, but in one documented case, close friendship with the villain, the latter even becoming a heir to the target’s estate (Emperor Augustus and L. Cinna).
Concerning public oratory, one Severus Cassius (epoch of Augustus, Tiberius and Caligula) spoke most effectively improv, advantage further derived from interruption. His adversaries were afraid to nettle him, lest his anger should redouble his eloquence.
Some passages tread on the ever present superstitions, prophets, medical placebos or the polarized viewpoints of childbearing.
Or the innumerable variations of tradition across cultures that would not only challenge the trending moral conception, but likely offend.
Or exploratory accounts of seemingly mundane affairs: journaling, sleep, reading, nutrition.
One essay speaks entirely of horses. Certain cultures viewed cavalry battalions as a matter of fragility, the point explored in detail. Contrast to the simpler, short-distance steel weaponry. The topic jolted my attention, recognizing similar fragilities among contemporary machines and digital technology.
You need not strictly resort to formal historical content in the extraction of pertinent snapshots. Even fiction serves.
Tolstoy’s War and Piece presents an epic case study of morality and ethics.
If not verse challenged, as I was but a short while back, there’s loads to be learned from Shakespeare (even the comedies); or Goethe’s colossal Faust, should you welcome the allegories and the inexhaustible employ of myth.
With a bit of research, you’ll settle upon material catering to your palate. But do embrace the ancient.
Questions, comments? Connect.