Laelius on Friendship (6-10)

FANNIUS. What you say is true, Laelius; for there was no better man than Africanus, and no one more illustrious. But you should realize that all men have fixed their eyes on you alone; you it is whom they both call and believe to be wise. Recently[*]this title was given to Marcus Cato and we know that Lucius Acilius was called the Wise in our fathers’ time, but each of them in a somewhat different way: Acilius because of his reputation for skill in civil law; Cato because of his manifold experience, and because of the many well-known instances wherein both in Senate and forum he displayed shrewdness of foresight, resolution of conduct, or sagacity in reply; and as a result, by the time he had reached old age, he bore the title of the Wise as a sort of cognomen.

But as to yourself, men are wont to call you wise in a somewhat different way, not only because of your mental endowments and natural character, but also because of your devotion to study and because of your culture, and they employ the term in your case, not as the ignorant do, but as learned men employ it. And in this sense we have understood that no one in all Greece was wise except one in Athens, and he,[*]I admit, was actually adjudged most wise by the oracle of Apollo—for the more captious critics refuse to admit those who are called The Seven into the category of the wise. Your wisdom, in public estimation, consists in this: you consider all your possessions to be within yourself and believe human fortune of less account than virtue. Hence the question is put to me and to Scaevola here, too, I believe, as to how you bear the death of Africanus, and the inquiry is the more insistent because, on the last Nones,[*]when we had met as usual for the practice[*]of our augural art in the country home of Decimus Brutus, you were not present, though it had been your custom always to observe that day and to discharge its duties with the most scrupulous care.

SCAEVOLA. There is indeed a great deal of questioning, Gaius Laelius, just as Fannius has said, but I state in reply what I have observed: that you bear with composure the pain occasioned by the death of one who was at once a most eminent man and your very dear friend; that you could not be unmoved thereby and that to be so was not consistent with your refined and tender nature and your culture; but as to your not attending our college on the Nones, that, I answer, was due to ill-health and not to grief.

LAELIUS. Your reply was excellent, Scaevola, and it was correct; for no personal inconvenience of any kind ought to have kept me from the discharge of the duty you mentioned, and which I have always performed when I was well, nor do I think it possible for any event of this nature to cause a man of strong character to neglect any duty.

Now as for your saying, Fannius, that so great merit is ascribed to me—merit such as I neither admit nor claim —you are very kind; but it seems to me that your estimate of Cato is scarcely high enough. For either no man was wise—which really I think is the better view—or, if anyone, it was he. Putting aside all other proof, consider how he bore the death of his son![*]remembered the case of Paulus, and I had been a constant witness of the fortitude of Gallus, but their sons died in boyhood, while Cato’s son died in the prime of life when his reputation was assured.

Therefore, take care not to give the precedence over Cato even to that man, whom, as you say, Apollo adjudged the wisest of men; for the former is praised for his deeds, the latter for his words.

Now, as to myself, let me address you both at once and beg you to believe that the case stands thus: If I were to assert that I am unmoved by grief at Scipio’s death, it would be for wise men to judge how far I am right, yet, beyond a doubt, my assertion would be false. For I am indeed moved by the loss of a friend such, I believe, as I shall never have again, and—as I can assert on positive knowledge— a friend such as no other man ever was to me. But I am not devoid of a remedy, and I find very great consolation in the comforting fact that I am free from the delusion which causes most men anguish when their friends depart. I believe that no ill has befallen Scipio; it has befallen me, if it has befallen anyone; but great anguish for one’s own inconveniences is the mark of the man who loves not his friend but himself.