DLXXXIV (F V, 14)
L. LUCCEIUS TO CICERO (AT ASTURA)
Rome (9 May)
If you are well, I am glad: I am as usual, or even a little
worse than usual. I have often wished to see you. I was
surprised to find that you have not been at Rome since your
departure:[1] and I am still surprised at it. I don't feel certain
as to the exact motive which withdraws you from Rome.
If it is solitude that charms you, provided that you write or
carry on some of your accustomed pursuits, I rejoice, and
have no fault to find with your resolution. For nothing can
be pleasanter than that, I don't mean merely in such unhappy
and grievous times as these, but even when everything
is peaceful and answerable to our wishes. Especially if your
mind is either so far wearied as to need repose after heavy
engagements, or so richly endowed as ever to be producing
something capable of charming others and adding brilliancy
to your own reputation. If, however, as you indicate, you
have surrendered yourself to tears and melancholy thoughts,
I grieve that you are grieving and suffering: I cannot—if
you permit me to say what I really think—altogether acquit
you of blame. For reflect: will you be the only man not
to see what is as clear as day, you whose acuteness detects
the most profound secrets? Will you fail to understand that
you do no good by daily lamentations? Will you fail to
understand that the sorrow is doubled, which your wisdom
expects you to remove? Well, if I cannot prevail upon you
by persuasion, I put it to you as a personal favour and as a
special request, that, if you care to do anything for my sake,
you would free yourself from the bonds of that sorrow and
return to our society and to your ordinary way of life,
whether that which we share in common with you, or that
- ↑ Reading (with Mueller) discesseras. The phrase is rather elaborate and fanciful, but so is the whole style of Lucceius throughout the letter.