VI
HONOURS AND FAULTS
To be respected is the crowning glory of old age. Lucius Caecilius Metellus, for instance, received enormous respect. So did Aulus Atilius Calatinus:1 ’many nations agree’, said his epitaph, ‘that this was the noblest man of his country.’ But you know the whole epitaph, because it is inscribed on his tomb. The unanimity of the praises that he received shows how greedy he deserved this veneration. I myself knew Publius Licinius Crassus Dives, who was high priest, and his successor Marcus Aemilius Lepidus.2 What great personalities they were! Of Lucius Aemilius Paullus, and Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus, and Quintus Fabius Maximus there is no need to speak; about Fabius I have said something already. Men such as these displayed authority not only in what they said but by their merest nod, and the authority which belongs to old age, especially when enhanced by a distinguished record, is more precious than all the pleasures of youth.
But please bear in mind, throughout this discussion, that to deserve all these compliments of mine, old age must have its foundations well laid in early life. Which means (as I once said in public, amid general approval) that an old age in need of self-justification is unenviable. White hairs and wrinkles cannot suddenly usurp authority, since this only comes as a final result of well-spent earlier years. When such authority has arrived, we find signs of respect which at first sight, perhaps, seem unimportant and ordinary – morning visitors and applicants for interviews; people making way for a man and rising at his approach; escorting him to the Forum and back, and asking for his advice. All these are practices which we observe most scrupulously; and so do all other civilized societies.
Lysander the Spartan, of whom I was speaking just now, is credited with the observation that the most honourable home for old people was Sparta, seeing that its inhabitants treated age with greater respect and deference than any other community. At Athens, on the other hand, when an old man came into the theatre to see a play, the story goes that not one of his fellow-citizens in the crowded auditorium offered him a place. When, however, he reached the section occupied by certain Spartans, who had places assigned to them because they were official delegates, each one of them rose and invited the old man to have his seat. This was applauded loud and long by the whole gathering. But one of the Spartans commented:’ The Athenians know what good behaviour is – but they do not put their knowledge into practice!’
Among the many fine customs practised by your Board of Augurs a particularly relevant one to our present subject is this: precedence in debate goes by age, which takes priority over official rank, so that even the highest functionaries yield place to augurs older than themselves. Surely the rewards of authority are incomparably superior to bodily pleasures! I suggest that those who have made good use of such rewards have acted life’s drama nobly to the end. Not for them is the sort of incompetent performance which breaks down in the last act!
However, old people are also complained about as morose, and petulant, and ill-tempered, and hard to please; and on inquiry some of them prove to be avaricious as well. But these are faults of character, not of age. Besides, moroseness and the other faults I have mentioned have a substantial, if not wholly adequate, excuse: old men believe themselves despised, ignored, and mocked – and a weak body is sensitive even to the lightest blow. In any case, however, a decent, enlightened character can keep such faults under control. This can be seen in real life, not to speak of the Brothers in the play1 of that name, of whom one is highly disagreeable, the other very pleasant. For the fact is that not every personality, any more than every wine, grows sour with age. Austerity in old men seems to me proper enough; but like everything else I want this in moderation – without any sourness. Besides, I cannot see the point of old men being miserly. Is it not the height of absurdity for a traveller to think he needs more funds for his journey when it is nearly over?