Letter 5.13

Although the consolation itself in your letter was most welcome to me -- for it shows the deepest goodwill joined with equal wisdom -- yet I gained this fruit from your letter above all: that I recognized you as a man who admirably despises human affairs and is excellently prepared and armed against fortune. I hold this to be the greatest praise of wisdom: not to depend on anything outside oneself, nor to have one's reasons for living well or ill suspended from external circumstances. This thought had not entirely escaped me -- for it was deeply rooted -- yet by the violence of storms and the onslaught of calamities it had been somewhat shaken and unsettled. I see that you have come to its aid, and I perceive that you did so also in your previous letter and that it has been of great benefit. Therefore I think I must say this more often and not merely hint at it but declare it openly: nothing could have been more welcome to me than your letter. As for consolation, while those arguments you collected so elegantly and copiously are effective, nothing availed more than my perception of the firmness and gravity of your spirit, which I think it would be most disgraceful not to imitate. And in this I think myself even braver than you yourself, the teacher of fortitude, because you seem to me to have some hope that things will one day be better. For the instances of gladiatorial reversals and the analogies drawn from them, and the arguments collected in your discussion, forbade me to utterly despair of the republic. And so on the one hand it is less surprising that you are braver since you have some hope; on the other hand it is surprising that you are sustained by any hope at all. For what is there so far intact that you would not confess it to be destroyed and extinguished? Survey all the limbs of the republic, which are very well known to you: you will find none, I am sure, that is not broken and enfeebled. I would pursue these topics if I either saw them better than you see them, or could recall them without pain, although by your admonitions and instructions all pain must be cast aside. Therefore I shall bear domestic troubles as you advise, and public ones perhaps even a little more bravely than you yourself who counsel me. For you are consoled by some hope, as you write; I shall be brave even in the despair of all things, as you nevertheless also urge and instruct me. For you give me pleasant memories of our shared conscience and of those deeds which I accomplished with you especially as my guide. For I served my country no less, certainly, than I owed, and surely more than was demanded of any man's spirit or judgment. You will forgive me for boasting somewhat about myself; for those deeds by whose contemplation you wished me to be relieved of grief, by their recollection too I am soothed. Therefore, as you advise, as far as I can, I shall draw myself away from all troubles and anxieties, and transfer my mind to those things by which prosperity is adorned and adversity is aided. And I shall be with you as much as the age and health of each of us will permit, and if we cannot be together as much as we would wish, we shall so enjoy the union of our spirits and our shared pursuits that we shall seem never to be apart.

DLXXI (Fam. V, 13) TO L. LUCCEIUS ASTURA (MARCH) Although the consolation contained in your letter is in itself exceedingly gratifying to me — for it displays the greatest kindness joined to an equal amount of good sense-yet quite the greatest profit which I received from that letter was the assurance that you were showing a noble disdain of human vicissitudes, and were thoroughly armed and prepared against fortune. And I assert it to be the highest compliment to philosophy that a man should not depend upon externals, nor allow his calculations as to the happiness or unhappiness of his life to be governed by anything outside himself. Now this conviction, though it had never been altogether lost — for it had sunk deep — had yet by the violence of tempests and a combination of misfortunes been considerably shaken and loosened at its roots. I see that you are for giving it support, and I also feel that by your last letter you have actually done so, and that with considerable success. Therefore, in my opinion, I ought to repeat this often, and not merely hint to you, but openly to declare, that nothing could be more acceptable to me than your letter. But while the arguments which you have collected with such taste and learning help to console me, yet nothing does so more than the clear perception I have got of the unbending firmness and unshaken confidence of your spirit, not to imitate which I think would be an utter disgrace. And so I consider that I am even braver than yourself — who give me lessons in courage — in this respect, that you appear to me still to cherish a hope that things will be some day better: at least “the changes and chances of gladiatorial combats” and your illustrations, as well as the arguments collected by you in your essay, were meant to forbid me entirely to despair of the republic. Accordingly, in one respect it is not so wonderful that you should be braver, since you still cherish hope: in another it is surprising that you should still have any hope. For what is there that is not so weakened as to make you acknowledge it to be practically destroyed and extinct? Cast your eye upon all the limbs of the republic, with which you are most intimately acquainted: you will not find one that is not broken or enfeebled. I would have gone into details, if I had seen things more clearly than you see them, or had been able to mention them without sorrow: though in accordance with your lessons and precepts all sorrow ought to be put away. Therefore I will bear my domestic misfortunes in the spirit of your admonition, and those of the state perhaps with even a little more courage than even you, who admonish me. For you are supported, as you say, by some hope; but I shall keep up my courage though I despair of everything, as in spite of that you exhort and admonish me to do. Yes, you give me pleasant reminders of what my conscience tells me I have done, and of those achievements which I performed with you among my foremost supporters. For I did for my country at least not less than I was bound to do, certainly more than was demanded from the spirit or wisdom of any one human being. Pray pardon my saying something about myself. You wished me to be relieved from my sorrow by thinking over these things. Well, even by mentioning them I obtain alleviation. Therefore, according to your advice, I will withdraw myself to the best of my power from all sorrows and anguish, and fix my mind on those topics by which prosperity receives an added charm, and adversity a support. I will be in your society also exactly as much as our respective age and health will allow; and if we cannot be together as much as we desire, we will so enjoy our union of hearts and community of tastes as to seem never separated.

XIII. Scr. Asturae mense Aprili a.u.c. 709. M. CICERO S. D. L. LUCCEIO Q. F. Quamquam ipsa consolatio litterarum tuarum mihi gratissima est—declarat enim summam benevolentiam coniunctam pari prudentia—, tamen illum fructum ex iis litteris vel maximum cepi, quod te praeclare res humanas contemnentem et optime contra fortunam paratum armatumque cognovi; quam quidem laudem sapientiae statuo esse maximam, non aliunde pendere nec extrinsecus aut bene aut male vivendi suspensas habere rationes. Quae cogitatio cum mihi non omnino excidisset—etenim penitus insederat—, vi tamen tempestatum et concursu calamitatum erat aliquantum labefactata atque convulsa; cui te opitulari et video et id fecisse etiam proximis litteris multumque profecisse sentio. Itaque hoc saepius dicendum tibique non significandum solum, sed etiam declarandum arbitror, nihil mihi esse potuisse tuis litteris gratius. Ad consolandum autem cum illa valent, quae eleganter copioseque collegisti, tum nihil plus quam quod firmitudinem gravitatemque animi tui perspexi, quam non imitari turpissimum existimo. Atque hoc etiam fortiorem me puto quam te ipsum, praeceptorem fortitudinis, quod tu mihi videre spem nonnullam habere haec aliquando futura meliora; casus enim gladiatorii similitudinesque eae, tum rationes in ea disputatione a te collectae vetabant me rei publicae penitus diffidere. Itaque alterum minus mirum, fortiorem te esse, cum aliquid speres, alterum mirum, spe ulla teneri; quid est enim non ita affectum, ut id non deletum exstinctumque esse fateare? circumspice omnia membra rei publicae, quae notissima sunt tibi: nullum reperies profecto, quod non fractum debilitatumve sit; quae persequerer, si aut melius ea viderem, quam tu vides, aut commemorare possem sine dolore, quamquam tuis monitis praeceptisque omnis est abiiciendus dolor. Ergo et domestica feremus, ut censes, et publica paullo etiam fortius fortasse quam tu ipse, qui praecipis; te enim aliqua spes consolatur, ut scribis, nos erimus etiam in omnium rerum desperatione fortes, ut tu tamen idem et hortaris et praecipis, das enim mihi iucundas recordationes conscientiae nostrae rerumque earum, quas te in primis auctore gessimus, praestitimus enim patriae non minus certe, quam debuimus, plus profecto, quam est ab animo cuiusquam aut consilio hominis postulatum. Ignosces mihi de me ipsi aliquid praedicanti; quarum enim tu rerum cogitatione nos levari aegritudine voluisti, earum etiam commemoratione lenimur. Itaque, ut mones, quantum potero, me ab omnibus molestiis et angoribus abducam tranferamque animum ad ea, quibus secundae res ornantur, adversae adiuvantur, tecumque et ero tantum, quantum patietur utriusque aetas et valetudo, et, si esse una minus poterimus, quam volemus, animorum tamen coniunctione iisdemque studiis ita fruemur, ut numquam non una esse videamur.