Letter 208

What a miserable life, and how much greater the evil of fearing for so long than the very thing one fears. Servius, as I wrote before, came on May 7 and came to me early the next morning. To keep you no longer: we found no way through to any plan. I have never seen a man more disturbed by fear, and by heaven he feared nothing that did not deserve to be feared. Pompey angry with him; Caesar not his friend; either victory horrible, because of Pompey's cruelty, Caesar's audacity, and the financial difficulties of both, which could be dug out nowhere except from private property. He said all this with so many tears that I wondered they had not dried up over such a long misery. My own eye trouble, because of which I am not writing to you myself, brings no tears, though it is often hateful because it keeps me awake. So gather whatever you have for consolation and write it to me. Not from doctrine or books, for that is at home already, and somehow the medicine is weaker than the disease. Search instead for news about Spain and Massilia. Servius brings fairly good reports on those, and he said there was excellent authority about the two legions. Send me such news, then, if you have it, and anything like it. In any case something must be heard in a few days. But I return to Servius. We postponed the whole conversation to the next day, but he is slow to leave and says, "I would much rather die in my own bed, whatever happens." He has a troublesome scruple about his son's service at Brundisium. One thing he asserted very firmly: if condemned men are restored, he will go into exile. To this I replied that it would certainly happen and that the things already being done were no lighter, and I gathered many examples. But they increased not his courage but his fear, so that he now seems a man from whom I should hide my plan rather than call him into it. There is not much in him. Warned by you, I will think about Caelius.

What a wretched life this is! and to be so long afraid is more wretched than the very thing one fears! Servius, as I told you before, came on the 7th of May and on the next morning visited me. Not to detain you longer, we could not see our way to a plan. Never have I seen a man more upset with fear; and upon my soul he feared nothing that did not deserve to be feared. He pointed out that Pompey was angry with him, that Caesar was not friendly, that the victory of either would be terrible, both because Pompey was cruel and Caesar daring, and because of their money difficulties, which could only be got rid of by an attack on private property. He bewailed all this with such a flood of tears, that I was surprised they had not dried up in all that long time of misery. My own eyes do not shed one single tear, though this inflammation prevents me from writing to you; but it is often tiresome by keeping me awake. So please collect all the consolation you can and send it to me—not from philosophy or books—I have plenty of that, but I find somehow that the cure is too weak for the disease. Search rather for any news about Spain or Massilia. What Servius says about them is quite satisfactory, and he also tells me there is excellent authority for the story of the two legions. News of this kind then send me, if you get it, and such like topics. Anyhow in a few days something must be heard. But to return to Servius. We deferred all our conversation to the next day: but he is reluctant to leave Italy, declaring he would much rather die in his bed whatever happens. He has unpleasant scruples about his son's military service at Brundisium. On one point he is quite firm, that, if the condemned are restored, he will go into exile. I for my part replied "that will certainly happen, and what is happening is equally disagreeable," and I quoted many examples. My examples however did not increase his courage but his fear: so that it appears I must rather conceal from him my design than invite him to share it. He is not to be depended on. By your advice I will consider about Caelius.

[1] O vitam miseram maiusque malum tam diu timere quam est illud ipsum quod timetur! Servius, ut antea scripsi, cum venisset Nonis Maus, postridie ad me mane venit. ne diutius te teneam, nullius consili exitum invenimus. numquam vidi hominem perturbatiorem metu; neque hercule quicquam timebat quod non esset timendum; illum sibi iratum, hunc non amicum; horribilem utriusque victoriam cum propter alterius crudelitatem, alterius audaciam, tum propter utriusque difficultatem pecuniariam; quae erui nusquam nisi ex privatorum bonis posset. atque haec ita multis cum lacrimis loquebatur ut ego mirarer eas tam diuturna miseria non exaruisse. mihi quidem etiam lippitudo haec, propter quam non ipse ad te scribo, sine ulla lacrima est sed saepius odiosa est propter vigilias. [2] quam ob rem quicquid habes ad consolandum conlige et illa scribe non ex doctrina neque ex libris (nam id quidem domi est, sed nescio quo modo imbecillior est medicina quam morbus), haec potius conquire de Hispaniis, de Massilia; quae quidem satis bella Servius adfert; qui etiam de duabus legionibus luculentos auctores esse dicebat. haec igitur si habebis et talia. et quidem paucis diebus aliquid audiri necesse est. [3] sed redeo ad Servium. distulimus omnino sermonem in posterum, sed tardus ad exeundum 'multo se in suo lectulo malle, quicquid foret.' odiosus scrupulus de fili militia Brundisina. Vnum illud firmissime adseverabat, si damnati restituerentur, in exsilium se iturum. nos autem ad haec 'et (id) ipsum certo fore et quae iam fierent non esse leviora,' multaque conligebamus. verum ea non animum eius augebant sed timorem, ut iam celandus magis de nostro consilio quam ad id (adhibendus) videretur. qua re in hoc non multum est. nos a te admoniti de Caelio cogitabimus.