A letter published 511 years ago today teaches us how to transcend our biggest problems and thrive.
Talking Big Ideas.
“Life will have terrible blows . . .
utilize the terrible blows in a constructive fashion.
~ Charlie Munger
I encourage all music lovers to check out Shock Therapy by Dr. Shock. I’m delighted to say he started his December 5th set with a request I submitted (Find Your People by Drew Holcomb and The Neighbors).
Last week I was on the Mackinac Center’s Overton Window Podcast. They made this short clip for social media that includes an appearance from Mr. Rogers.
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Maryrose and I were having dinner with friends in DC when we mentioned an upcoming trip to Florence. Our friend Gregg lit up. He adores Italy and gave us more recommendations than we could fit into a handful of vacations.
His one insistence was not a place but a letter from Machiavelli to Francesco Vettori published 511 years ago today – on the 10th of December in 1513.
The week after our dinner in DC, we received a gift in the mail: The Essential Writings of Machiavelli, with the letter to Vettori bookmarked. I dove in.
The letter explains a typical day for Machiavelli after being arrested at the height of his power, tortured, and banished to the countryside.
In contrast to Vettori’s life sleeping in late and hanging out with the Pope and other powerful leaders, Machiavelli rises with the sun, catches birds with his bare hands, chops wood, and then hangs out at the tavern with “the inn keeper . . . a butcher, a miller, and two kiln tenders.” Together they “dawdle all day playing cards and backgammon.”
While it sounds idyllic to me, to Vettori it must come across as quite low-status. Yet Machiavelli never criticizes, condemns, or complains. He never assumes the role of victim. He simply explains his new life in exile in a clear and matter-of-fact way.
The letter drives home how Machiavelli’s philosophy isn’t just about obtaining power over others. Perhaps most importantly, he teaches us to accept responsibility for all aspects of our lives. He teaches us to obtain power over ourselves.
“I have only myself to blame.”
~ Machiavelli to Vettori, 10 December 1513
The letter reminds me of the philanthropist Charlie Munger, who died last December, a month shy of his 100th birthday. Munger wrote that “Generally speaking, envy, resentment, revenge, and self-pity are disastrous modes of thought . . . Life will have terrible blows, horrible blows, unfair blows – it doesn’t matter.”
Like Machiavelli, Munger experienced life’s terrible blows. When he was 29 years old, Munger’s young son died of leukemia, his wife left him, and he was crippled with medical debt. Years later, a botched eye surgery blinded him in one eye. Doctors thought he might lose both eyes.
In each case, Munger accepted his fate and looked for solutions, such as how to be happy, how to make money, and how to read Braille. Munger explains his thoughts on how to train our minds to help us deal with terrible blows:
“I think the attitude of Epictetus is the best. He thought that every mischance in life was an opportunity to behave well. Every mischance in life was an opportunity to learn something and that your duty was not to be immersed in self-pity, but to utilize the terrible blow in a constructive fashion. That is a very good idea.”
This is exactly what Machiavelli did. He used his time in the countryside to learn and grow. Here’s how he describes to Vettori a typical evening in exile:
“I return home and go into my study. At the door I take off my everyday clothes, covered with mud and dirt, and don garments of court and palace. Now garbed fittingly I step into the ancient courts of men of antiquity, where, received kindly, I partake of food that is for me alone and for which I was born….”
I love this description and think about it often.
You can see Machiavelli shed his dirty clothes, dress up in his finest attire, and go sit among his books. Surrounded by the most brilliant minds in history, he feels grateful and strong – in control of his thoughts, filled with excitement and gratitude.
Machiavelli asks these giants of antiquity many questions, and “they in their full humanity answer me. For four hours I feel no tedium and forget every anguish, not afraid of poverty, not terrified by death.”
After losing everything and being tortured and banished, Machiavelli continued to thrive. He enjoyed four hours every night surrounded by true excellence, engaged in and delighted by enlightened reflection.
“Books are ships which pass through the vast seas of time.”
~ German Proverb
Imagine if we all took this path. Even for just a few minutes every day. Instead of mindlessly scrolling, we open a classic book and seek the guidance of a genius.
Today, with AI tools like ChatGPT, we can conjure whoever we’d like from history. We can talk with Buddha, Frederick Douglass, Marie Curie, and countless other brilliant minds.
I do this regularly. I pick an amazing person from history and have a dialogue. Here’s an example:
PROMPT: Hey chat, imagine you are Epictetus. Let’s have a conversation. I’ll be me and you do the absolute best job you can to be Epictetus. Stay in character during our conversation. Everything you say will be as Epictetus. Sound good?
ChatGPT: As Epictetus, I am prepared for this conversation. Let us engage in a dialogue that befits the spirit of Stoic philosophy. Remember, it is not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters. Proceed with your query or thought.
And the conversation begins. I’ve sat down with Galileo to discuss his Dialogues, chatted with Darwin about his time on the Beagle, sought guidance from Cicero on an upcoming talk, and so on.
The economist Tyler Cowen used this approach to interview Jonathan Swift on his podcast. Swift authored Gulliver’s Travels … in 1726. He died decades before the United States was born. And yet Swift had an excellent conversation with Tyler last March:
This weekend, Tyler explained how engaging with ChatGPT revolutionizes reading:
You don’t have to upload any book into the system . . . Just start asking questions. The core intuition is simply that you should be asking more questions. And now you have someone/something to ask! . . . .
Most people still have not yet internalized this emotionally. This is one of the biggest revolutions in reading, ever.
I think immediately of Machiavelli asking questions as he read during his evenings in exile: “they in their full humanity answer me.” I wonder how he would have incorporated into his reading AI-simulated dialogue with history’s most brilliant minds.
Machiavelli ends his letter to Vettori with this:
“Be happy.”
Regardless of whatever stress and pain you are experiencing, Machiavelli teaches that happiness is within your grasp. You can surround yourself with genius, engage deeply with the most amazing people in history, and embody their best ideas, characteristics, and mindsets. In doing so, you can learn to transcend your suffering.
The good life is a choice.
