Laelius on Friendship (11-15)

But who would say that all has not gone wonderfully well with him? For unless he had wished to live for ever—a wish he was very far from entertaining—what was there, proper for a human being to wish for, that he did not attain? The exalted expectation which his country conceived of him in his childhood, he at a bound, through incredible merit, more than realized in his youth. Though he never sought the consulship, he was elected consul twice—the first time[*]before he was of legal age, the second time at a period seasonable for him, but almost too late for the safety of the commonwealth. And he overthrew the two cities that were the deadliest foes of our empire and thereby put an end not only to existing wars, but to future wars as well. Why need I speak of his most affable manners, of his devotion to his mother, of his generosity to his sisters,[*]of his kindness to his relatives, of his strict integrity to all men? These things are well known to you both. Moreover, how dear he was to the State was indicated by the grief displayed at his funeral. How, then, could he have gained any advantage by the addition of a few more years of life? For even though old age may not be a burden—as I remember Cato, the year before he died, maintained in a discourse with Scipio and myself—yet it does take away that freshness which Scipio kept even to the end.

Therefore, his life really was such that nothing could be added to it either by good fortune or by fame; and, besides, the suddenness of his death took away the consciousness of dying. It is hard to speak of the nature of his death; you both know what people suspect[*]; yet I may say with truth that, of the many very joyous days which he saw in the course of his life—days thronged to the utmost with admiring crowds—the most brilliant was the day before he departed this life, when, after the adjournment of the Senate, he was escorted home toward evening by the Conscript Fathers, the Roman populace, and the Latin allies, so that from so lofty a station of human grandeur he seems to have passed to the gods on high rather than to the shades below.

For I do not agree with those who have recently begun to argue that soul and body perish at the same time, and that all things are destroyed by death. I give greater weight to the old-time view, whether it be that of our forefathers, who paid such reverential rites to the dead, which they surely would not have done if they had believed those rites were a matter of indifference to the dead; or, whether it be the view of those[*]who lived in this land and by their principles and precepts brought culture to Great Greece,[*]which now, I admit, is wholly destroyed, but was then flourishing; or, whether it be the view of him who was adjudged by the oracle of Apollo to be the wisest of men, who, though he would argue on most subjects now on one side and now on the other, yet always consistently maintained that human souls were of God; that upon their departure from the body a return to heaven lay open to them, and that in proportion as each soul was virtuous and just would the return be easy and direct.

Scipio held this same view, for only a few days before his death, in the presence of Philus, Manilius and several others (you were there, too, Scaevola, having gone with me), he, as if with a premonition of his fate, discoursed for three days on the commonwealth, and devoted almost all of the conclusion of his discussion to the immortality of the soul, making use of arguments which he had heard, he said, from Africanus the Elder through a vision in his sleep. If the truth really is that the souls of all good men after death make the easiest escape from what may be termed the imprisonment and fetters of the flesh, whom can we think of as having had an easier journey to the gods than Scipio? Therefore, I fear that grief at such a fate as his would be a sign more of envy than of friendship. But if, on the other hand, the truth rather is that soul and body perish at the same time, and that no sensation remains, then, it follows that, as there is nothing good in death, so, of a certainty, there is nothing evil. For if a man has lost sensation the result is the same as if he had never been born; and yet the fact that Scipio was born is a joy to us and will cause this State to exult so long as it shall exist.

Wherefore, as I have already said, it has gone very well with him, less so with me, for, as I was before him in entering life, it had been more reasonable to expect that I should have been before him in leaving it. Still, such is my enjoyment in the recollection of our friendship that I feel as if my life has been happy because it was spent with Scipio, with whom I shared my public and private cares; lived under the same roof at home; served in the same campaigns abroad, and enjoyed that wherein lies the whole essence of friendship—the most complete agreement in policy, in pursuits, and in opinions. Hence, I am not so much delighted by my reputation for wisdom which Fannius just now called to mind, especially since it is undeserved, as I am by the hope that the memory of our friendship will always endure; and this thought is the more pleasing to me because in the whole range of history only three or four pairs[*]of friends are mentioned; and I venture to hope that among such instances the friendship of Scipio and Laelius will be known to posterity.