In consequence of this general opinion I have been frequently asked (and the same question, I believe, has no less often, Scaevola, been proposed to you) in what manner Laelius supports the loss he has lately sustained. And this inquiry was the rather made, as it was remarked that you absented yourself from our last monthly meeting in the gardens of Brutus the Augur, where you had always before very regularly assisted.

SCAEVOLA.- I acknowledge, Laelius, that the question which Fannius mentions has repeatedly been put to me by many of my acquaintance, and I have always assured them that, as far as I could observe, you received the wound that has been inflicted upon you by the death of your affectionate and illustrious friend with great composure and equanimity. Nevertheless, that it was not possible, nor indeed consistent with the general humane disposition of your nature, not to be affected by it in a very sensible manner; however, that it was by no means grief, but merely indisposition, which prevented you from being present at the last meeting of our assembly.

LAELIUS.- Your answer, Scaevola, was perfectly agreeable to the fact. Ill, certainly, would it become me, on account of any private affliction, to decline a conference which I have never failed to attend when my health permitted. And, indeed, I am persuaded that no man who possesses a proper firmness of mind will suffer his misfortunes, how heavily soever they may press upon his heart, to interrupt his duties of any kind. For the rest, I consider the high opinion, Fannius, which you suppose the world entertains of my character, as an obliging proof of your friendship; but it is an opinion which, as I am not conscious of deserving, I have no disposition to claim. As little am I inclined to subscribe to your judgement concerning Cato; for if consummate wisdom, in the moral and philosophic idea of that expression, was ever to be found in the character of any human being (which, I will confess, however, I very much doubt), it certainly appeared throughout the whole conduct of that excellent person. Not to mention other proofs, with what unexampled fortitude, let me ask, did he support the death of his incomparable son? I was no stranger to the behaviour of Paulus, and was an eye-witness to that of Gallus labouring under an affliction of the same kind; but the sons whom they were respectively bereaved of died when they were mere boys. Whereas Cato's was snatched from him when he had arrived at the prime of manhood and was flourishing in the general esteem of his country. Let me caution you, then, from suffering any man to rival Cato in your good opinion, not excepting even him whom the oracle of Apollo, you say, declared to be the wisest of the human race. The truth is, the memory of Socrates is held in honour for the admirable doctrine he delivered, but Cato's for the glorious deeds he performed.

Thus far in particular reply to Fannius. I now address myself to both; and if I were to deny that I regret the death of Scipio, how far such a disposition of mind would be right, I leave philosophers to determine. But far, I confess, it is from the sentiments of my heart. I am sensibly, indeed, affected by the loss of a friend whose equal no man, I will venture to say, ever possessed before, and none, I am persuaded, will ever meet with again. Nevertheless, I stand in want of no external assistance to heal the wound I have received. My own reflections supply me with sufficient consolation. And I find it principally from not having given in to that false opinion which adds poignancy to the grief of so many others under a loss of the same kind. For I am convinced there is no circumstance in the death of Scipio that can justly be lamented with respect to himself. Whatever there is of private misfortune in that event consists entirely in the loss which I have sustained. Under the full influence of such a persuasion, to indulge unrestrained sorrow would be a proof not of a generous affection to one's friend, but of too interested a concern for one's self. It is evident, indeed, that the colour of Scipio's days has, in every view of it, proved truly bright and glorious. For tell me, my friends, is there a felicity (unless he wished never to die- a wish, I am confident, he was too wise to entertain), is there a single article of human happiness that can reasonably be desired which he did not live to attain? The high expectations the world had conceived of him in his earliest youth were more than confirmed in his riper years, as his virtues shone forth with a lustre superior even to the most sanguine hopes of his country. He was twice, without the least solicitation on his own part, elected consul; the first time before he was legally qualified by his age to be admitted into that office, and the next although not prematurely with respect to himself, yet it had well-nigh proved too late for his country. In both instances, however, success attended his arms, and having levelled with the ground the capitals of two states the most inveterately hostile to the Roman name, he not only happily terminated the respective wars, but secured us from all apprehension of future danger from the same powers. I forbear to enlarge upon the affability of his manners, the affection he showed to his mother, the generosity he exercised towards his sisters, the kindness with which he behaved to the rest of his family, and the unblemished integrity that influenced every part of his conduct. They were qualities in his exemplary and amiable character with which you are perfectly well acquainted. It is equally unnecessary to add how sincerely he was beloved by his country; the general concern that appeared at his funeral renders it sufficiently evident. What increase, then, could the addition of a few more years have made to the glory and happiness of his life? For admitting that old age does not necessarily bring on a state of imbecility (as Cato, I remember, maintained in a conversation with Scipio and myself about a year before his death), it certainly impairs, at least, that vigour and vivacity which Scipio still possessed at the time of his decease.