Yes, my dear Servius, I could indeed wish you had been with me, as you
say, at the time of my terrible trial. How much it was in your power
to help me if you had been here, by sympathizing with, and I may
almost say, sharing equally in my grief, I readily perceive from the
fact that after reading your letter I now feel myself considerably
more composed; for not only was all that you wrote just what is best
calculated to soothe affliction, but you yourself in comforting me
showed that you too had no little pain at heart. Your son Servius,
however, has made it clear, by every kindly attention which such an
occasion would permit of, both how great his respect was for myself
and also how much pleasure his kind feeling for me was likely to give
you; and you may be sure that, while such attentions from him have
often been more pleasant to me, they have never made me more grateful.
It is not, however, only your arguments and your equal share--I may
almost call it--in this affliction which comforts me, but also your
authority; because I hold it shame in me not to be bearing my trouble
in a way that you, a man endowed with such wisdom, think it ought to
be borne. But at times I feel broken down, and I scarcely make any
struggle against my grief, because those consolations fail me which
under similar calamities were never wanting to any of those other
people whom I put before myself as models for imitation. Both Fabius
Maximus, for example, when he lost a son who had held the consulship,
the hero of many a famous exploit; and Lucius Paulus, from whom two
were taken in one week; and your own kinsman Gallus; and Marcus Cato,
who was deprived of a son of the rarest talents and the rarest
virtue--all these lived in times when their individual affliction was
capable of finding a solace in the distinctions they used to earn from
their country.
For me, however, after being stript of all those distinctions which
you yourself recall to me, and which I had won for myself by
unparalleled exertions, only that one solace remained which has been
torn away. My thoughts were not diverted by work for my friends, or by
the administration of affairs of state; there was no pleasure in
pleading in the courts; I could not bear the very sight of the Senate
House; I felt, as was indeed too true, that I had lost all the harvest
of both my industry and my success. But whenever I wanted to recollect
that all this was shared with you and other friends I could name, and
whenever I was breaking myself in and forcing my spirit to bear these
things with patience, I always had a refuge to go to where I might
find peace, and in whose words of comfort and sweet society I could
rid me of all my pains and griefs. Whereas now, under this terrible
blow, even those old wounds which seemed to have healed up are
bleeding afresh; for it is impossible for me now to find such a refuge
from my sorrows at home in the business of the state as in those days
I did in that consolation of home, which was always in store whenever
I came away sad from thoughts of state to seek for peace in her
happiness. And so I stay away both from home and from public life;
because home now is no more able to make up for the sorrow I feel when
I think of our country than our country is for my sorrow at home. I am
therefore looking forward all the more eagerly to your coming, and
long to see you as early as may possibly be; no greater alleviation
can be offered me than a meeting between us for friendly intercourse
and conversation. I hope, however, that your return is to take place,
as I hear it is, very shortly. As for myself, while there are abundant
reasons for wanting to see you as soon as possible, my principal one
is in order that we may discuss together beforehand the best method of
conduct for present circumstances, which must entirely be adapted to
the wishes of one man only, a man nevertheless who is far-seeing and
generous, and also, as I think I have thoroughly ascertained, to me
not at all ill-disposed and to you extremely friendly. But admitting
this, it is still a matter for much deliberation what is the line--I
do not say of action, but of keeping quiet--that we ought by his good
leave and favor to adopt. Farewell!