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 do 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 stripped 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 that 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.