Chapter 13

43 “I have often heard older men, who in turn said they had heard it from old men when they were boys, tell how Gaius Fabricius used to marvel at something he had learned while serving as envoy to King Pyrrhus. Cineas the Thessalian had told him that at Athens there was a man who professed wisdom and declared that everything we do should be directed toward pleasure. On hearing this from Fabricius, Manius Curius and Tiberius Coruncanius used to wish that the Samnites and Pyrrhus himself could be persuaded of it, so that, once surrendered to pleasure, they might be defeated more easily. Manius Curius had lived alongside Publius Decius, who in his fourth consulship, five years before Curius’s, had devoted his life to death for the state. Fabricius and Coruncanius had known him too. From their own lives and from the deed of this Decius, they judged that there was indeed something noble and splendid by nature, something to be sought for its own sake, which the best men pursued in scorn and contempt of pleasure.”

44 “Why, then, so much about pleasure? Because it is not a reproach to old age but its highest praise that it has no great longing for pleasures. It lacks feasts, heaped tables, and frequent cups. Then it also lacks drunkenness, indigestion, and sleeplessness. Yet if we must yield something to pleasure, since its blandishments are not easily resisted—Plato divinely calls pleasure ‘the bait of evils,’ evidently because men are caught by it like fish—old age, though it forgoes extravagant feasts, may still delight in modest gatherings. As a boy I often saw Gaius Duilius, son of Marcus, returning from dinner in his old age. He was the first to defeat the Carthaginians at sea, and took pleasure in a waxen torch and a flute player accompanying him: privileges he had assumed, without precedent, as a private citizen. Such license did glory grant him.”

45 “But why speak of others? I shall return to myself. First, I have always had companions in a dining fellowship. These fellowships were established during my quaestorship, when the Idaean rites of the Great Mother were received. I used to dine with my companions, then, altogether moderately, though with a certain warmth of youth; as age advances, everything grows gentler day by day. I measured the pleasure of these gatherings not so much by bodily delights as by the company and conversation of friends. Our ancestors rightly called friends’ reclining together at a feast a ‘living together,’ since it involved a sharing of life. That is better than the Greeks, who call the same thing a ‘drinking together’ or an ‘eating together,’ as though what is least important in it were what they valued most.”

43 “I have often heard older men tell a story they themselves had heard from old men when they were boys. Gaius Fabricius used to express his amazement at something he had heard while serving as an envoy to King Pyrrhus. Cineas of Thessaly had told him that there was a man in Athens who called himself a philosopher and said that everything we did should be judged by the pleasure it brought. When Manius Curius and Tiberius Coruncanius heard this from Fabricius, they hoped that Pyrrhus himself and the Samnites would come to accept the idea. They would be easier to defeat once they gave themselves over to pleasure. Manius Curius had lived at the same time as Publius Decius, who had sacrificed his life for his country during his fourth term as consul, five years before Curius became consul. Fabricius and Coruncanius had known Decius too. Their own lives, as well as the deed of this Decius I am speaking of, convinced them that something truly noble and splendid exists by nature. It deserves to be sought for its own sake, and the best people pursue it while rejecting pleasure and treating it as unimportant.”

44 “Why, then, have I said so much about pleasure? Because old age deserves not blame but the highest praise for having no strong desire for pleasures. It goes without feasts, heavily loaded tables, and cup after cup of wine. So it also goes without drunkenness, indigestion, and sleepless nights. Still, perhaps we must make some allowance for pleasure, since its charms are hard to resist. Plato was wonderfully right to call pleasure the bait of evil: people are caught by it just as fish are caught by bait. Although old age goes without excessive feasting, it can still enjoy modest dinner parties. When I was a boy, I repeatedly watched the elderly Gaius Duilius on his way home from dinner. He was Marcus’s son and the first to beat a Carthaginian fleet. He enjoyed having a wax torch and a flute player accompany him. Although he held no public office at the time, he had adopted this practice without any precedent. His glory gave him that much freedom.”

45 “But why am I talking about other people? Let me return to myself. To begin with, I have always had companions to dine with. These dining societies were founded when I was quaestor, after we adopted the rites of the Great Mother from Mount Ida. So I used to dine with my companions, quite moderately, though there was still some of the warmth of youth about it. As we grow older, everything becomes gentler day by day. Even then, I measured my enjoyment of these dinners less by bodily pleasures than by the gathering of friends and their conversation. Our ancestors gave a good name to friends gathering around a dinner table. Because it brought people together in a shared life, they called it a ‘living together.’ That is better than the Greek names for the same thing, ‘drinking together’ or ‘eating together.’ Those names make the Greeks seem to value most what matters least on such occasions.”