Letter 122

The day has already felt its loss; it has shrunk back somewhat, yet still in such a way that there remains a generous span of time for anyone who rises, so to speak, together with the day itself. A man is more dutiful and better if he waits for the day and catches the first light; it is shameful to lie half-asleep when the sun is already high, a man whose waking begins at midday. And even this, for many, counts as before dawn. There are those who have inverted the offices of light and of night, and who do not part their eyes, heavy with yesterday's hangover, until night begins to come on. Just as the condition is described of those whom Nature, as Vergil says, has placed beneath our feet, set on the opposite side, so for these men it is not their region but their life that is contrary to everyone else's. There are within the very same city certain antipodeans who, as Marcus Cato says, have never seen the sun either rising or setting. Do you suppose these men know how one ought to live, when they do not know when? And do these men fear death, when alive they have buried themselves in it? They are creatures of as ill an omen as the birds of the night. Though they pass their darkness amid wine and perfume, though they draw out the whole span of their perverted vigil in feasts, and indeed in feasts cooked down into many courses, they are not banqueting but performing their own funeral rites. The dead, at any rate, have their offerings made by daylight. But by Hercules, to a man who is busy no day is long. Let us extend life: action is both its duty and its proof. Let the night be cut short, and let some part of it be transferred to the day. Birds that are got ready for banquets are kept in the dark, so that, lying motionless, they may fatten easily; and likewise, upon men who lie idle without any exercise, a swelling invades the sluggish body, and a lazy bloating creeps over them ~in their arrogant shade~. But the bodies of those men who have dedicated themselves to the dark are foul to look upon, for their color is more suspect than that of men pale with disease: they are languid and faded, white, and in the living the flesh is that of a corpse. Yet I would call this the least of their evils: how much more darkness there is in the soul! Such a man is stupefied within himself, he is in a fog, he envies the blind. Who ever had eyes for the sake of darkness? You ask how this distortion comes upon the soul, this turning away from the day and the transferring of one's whole life into the night? All vices fight against Nature, all desert the order that is owed to them; this is luxury's aim: to delight in things perverse, and not only to depart from what is right but to go as far from it as possible, and then even to take a stand against it. Do they not seem to you to live against Nature, those who drink fasting, who take wine into empty veins and pass over to food already drunk? And yet this is a frequent vice of the young, who cultivate their strength so as to drink almost on the very threshold of the bath among the naked, or rather to swill, and to scrape off again and again the sweat they have raised by frequent and scalding drinks. To drink after lunch or after dinner is vulgar; this is what rustic heads of households do, men ignorant of true pleasure: the unmixed wine that delights them is the wine that does not float upon food, that penetrates freely to the sinews; the drunkenness that pleases is the one that comes into an empty space. Do they not seem to you to live against Nature, those who exchange clothing with women? Do they not live against Nature, those who see to it that boyhood gleams at the wrong time of life? What could be done more cruel or more wretched? Will he never be a man, so that he may go on submitting to a man? And when his sex ought to have rescued him from the outrage, will not even his age rescue him? Do they not live against Nature, those who in winter long for the rose, and by the application of warm waters and a suitable change of place force out the lily, a spring flower, in midwinter? Do they not live against Nature, those who plant orchards on the tops of towers, whose woods sway upon the roofs and gables of their houses, with roots sprung up in a place to which it would be outrageous for their tree-tops to have pushed? Do they not live against Nature, those who lay the foundations of warm baths in the sea, and do not think they are swimming luxuriously unless the heated pools are struck by wave and storm? Once they have resolved to want everything contrary to Nature's custom, in the end they break away from her altogether. 'It is light: it is the time for sleep. There is quiet: now let us exercise, now let us be carried about, now let us lunch. Now the daylight draws nearer: it is the time for dinner. We must not do what the common people do; it is a sordid thing to live by the beaten and ordinary road. Let the public day be left to others: let a morning of our own and our private property be made for us.' To me these men are as good as the deceased; for how little distance is there from a funeral, and indeed a bitter one, for those who live by torches and tapers? We remember that many led this life at one and the same time, among them Acilius Buta, a man of praetorian rank, to whom, after he had run through an enormous patrimony and was confessing his poverty, Tiberius said, 'You have woken up too late.' Julius Montanus, a tolerable poet, known both for his friendship with Tiberius and for his coldness, was reciting a poem. He used most gladly to insert sunrises and sunsets; and so, when a certain man was indignant that Montanus had recited the whole day long and declared that one should not go to his recitations, Natta Pinarius said, 'Could I possibly act more generously? I am prepared to listen to him from sunrise to sunset.' Varus, a Roman knight, a companion of Marcus Vinicius, a hanger-on at good dinners which he earned by the wickedness of his tongue, cried out, 'Buta is beginning to fall asleep.' Then, when Montanus had gone on reciting, this same Varus said, 'What do you say? Is it night already? I shall go and pay Buta my morning call.' Nothing was more notorious than this life of his, turned about into its opposite; which, as I said, many led at one and the same time. The reason some men live thus is not that they think night itself holds anything more pleasant, but that nothing customary gives pleasure, and the daylight weighs heavy upon a bad conscience, and to a man who craves or scorns all things in proportion as they were bought at a great or a small price, free light is an object of contempt. Besides, the luxurious want their life to be the talk of the town while they live; for if there is silence about them, they think they are wasting their effort. And so from time to time they do something to stir up talk. Many devour their estates, many keep mistresses: to make a name among such men, you must do something not merely luxurious but remarkable; in so busy a city, ordinary worthlessness does not get itself talked about. We had heard Pedo Albinovanus telling a story (he was a most elegant raconteur) about how he had lived above the house of Sextus Papinius. Papinius was one of this crowd of light-shunners. 'I hear,' he said, 'around the third hour of the night the sound of whips. I ask what he is doing: he is said to be going over his accounts. I hear around the sixth hour of the night a furious shouting. I ask what it is: he is said to be exercising his voice. Around the eighth hour of the night I ask what that sound of wheels means: he is said to be taking a drive. Around dawn there is running about, the slaves are called, the cellarers and cooks are in an uproar. I ask what it is: he is said to have called for mulled wine and spelt-broth, having come out of the bath.' 'His dinner,' he said, 'went on past the day.' Not at all; for he lived very frugally; he spent nothing but the night. And so, when certain people called him greedy and stingy, Pedo said, 'You will also be calling him a lamp-dweller.' You ought not to be astonished if you find so many distinctive forms of the vices: they are varied, they have countless faces, their kinds cannot be comprehended. The care of the right is single; that of the wrong is manifold, and admits as many new deviations as you like. The same happens with characters: those of men who follow Nature are easy, relaxed, and have slight differences; but the distorted ones disagree the most, both with everyone and among themselves. Yet the chief cause of this disease seems to me to be a disgust with the common life. Just as they distinguish themselves from others by their dress, by the elegance of their dinners, by the smartness of their carriages, so they wish to be set apart also by their arrangement of the hours. They are unwilling to sin in the usual way, those for whom the reward of sinning is notoriety. This is what all those men seek who, so to speak, live backwards. For this reason, Lucilius, we must hold to the road that Nature has prescribed, and not turn aside from it: for those who follow her, all things are easy and unobstructed; for those who struggle against her, life is no different from that of men rowing against the current. Farewell.

The day has already begun to lessen. It has shrunk considerably, but yet will still allow a goodly space of time if one rises, so to speak, with the day itself. We are more industrious, and we are better men if we anticipate the day and welcome the dawn; but we are base churls if we lie dozing when the sun is high in the heavens, or if we wake up only when noon arrives; and even then to many it seems not yet dawn. Some have reversed the functions of light and darkness; they open eyes sodden with yesterday’s debauch only at the approach of night. It is just like the condition of those peoples whom, according to Vergil, Nature has hidden away and placed in an abode directly opposite to our own: When in our face the Dawn with panting steeds Breathes down, for them the ruddy evening kindles Her late-lit fires. It is not the country of these men, so much as it is their life, that is “directly opposite” to our own. There may be Antipodes dwelling in this same city of ours who, in Cato’s words, “have never seen the sun rise or set.” Do you think that these men know how to live, if they do not know when to live? Do these men fear death, if they have buried themselves alive? They are as weird as the birds of night. Although they pass their hours of darkness amid wine and perfumes, although they spend the whole extent of their unnatural waking hours in eating dinners—and those too cooked separately to make up many courses—they are not really banqueting; they are conducting their own funeral services. And the dead at least have their banquets by daylight. But indeed to one who is active no day is long. So let us lengthen our lives; for the duty and the proof of life consist in action. Cut short the night; use some of it for the day’s business. Birds that are being prepared for the banquet, that they may be easily fattened through lack of exercise, are kept in darkness; and similarly, if men vegetate without physical activity, their idle bodies are overwhelmed with flesh, and in their self-satisfied retirement the fat of indolence grows upon them. Moreover, the bodies of those who have sworn allegiance to the hours of darkness have a loathsome appearance. Their complexions are more alarming than those of anaemic invalids; they are lackadaisical and flabby with dropsy; though still alive, they are already carrion. But this, to my thinking, would be among the least of their evils. How much more darkness there is in their souls! Such a man is internally dazed; his vision is darkened; he envies the blind. And what man ever had eyes for the purpose of seeing in the dark? You ask me how this depravity comes upon the soul—this habit of reversing the daylight and giving over one’s whole existence to the night? All vices rebel against Nature; they all abandon the appointed order. It is the motto of luxury to enjoy what is unusual, and not only to depart from that which is right, but to leave it as far behind as possible, and finally even take a stand in opposition thereto. Do you not believe that men live contrary to Nature who drink fasting, who take wine into empty veins, and pass to their food in a state of intoxication? And yet this is one of youth’s popular vices—to perfect their strength in order to drink on the very threshold of the bath, amid the unclad bathers; nay even to soak in wine and then immediately to rub off the sweat which they have promoted by many a hot glass of liquor! To them, a glass after lunch or one after dinner is bourgeois; it is what the country squires do, who are not connoisseurs in pleasure. This unmixed wine delights them just because there is no food to float in it, because it readily makes its way into their muscles; this boozing pleases them just because the stomach is empty. Do you not believe that men live contrary to Nature who exchange the fashion of their attire with women? Do not men live contrary to Nature who endeavour to look fresh and boyish at an age unsuitable for such an attempt? What could be more cruel or more wretched? Cannot time and man’s estate ever carry such a person beyond an artificial boyhood? Do not men live contrary to Nature who crave roses in winter, or seek to raise a spring flower like the lily by means of hot-water heaters and artificial changes of temperature? Do not men live contrary to Nature who grow fruit-trees on the top of a wall? Or raise waving forests upon the roofs and battlements of their houses—the roots starting at a point to which it would be outlandish for the tree-tops to reach? Do not men live contrary to Nature who lay the foundations of bathrooms in the sea and do not imagine that they can enjoy their swim unless the heated pool is lashed as with the waves of a storm? When men have begun to desire all things in opposition to the ways of Nature, they end by entirely abandoning the ways of Nature. They cry: “It is daytime—let us go to sleep! It is the time when men rest: now for exercise, now for our drive, now for our lunch! Lo, the dawn approaches: it is dinner-time! We should not do as mankind do. It is low and mean to live in the usual and conventional way. Let us abandon the ordinary sort of day. Let us have a morning that is a special feature of ours, peculiar to ourselves!” Such men are, in my opinion, as good as dead. Are they not all but present at a funeral—and before their time too—when they live amid torches and tapers? I remember that this sort of life was very fashionable at one time: among such men as Acilius Buta, a person of praetorian rank, who ran through a tremendous estate and on confessing his bankruptcy to Tiberius, received the answer: “You have waked up too late!” Julius Montanus was once reading a poem aloud; he was a middling good poet, noted for his friendship with Tiberius, as well as his fall from favour. He always used to fill his poems with a generous sprinkling of sunrises and sunsets. Hence, when a certain person was complaining that Montanus had read all day long, and declared that no man should attend any of his readings, Natta Pinarius remarked: “I couldn’t make a fairer bargain than this: I am ready to listen to him from sunrise to sunset!” Montanus was reading, and had reached the words: ’Gins the bright morning to spread forth his flames clear-burning; the red dawn Scatters its light; and the sad-eyed swallow returns to her nestlings, Bringing the chatterers’ food, and with sweet bill sharing and serving. Then Varus, a Roman knight, the hanger-on of Marcus Vinicius, and a sponger at elegant dinners which he earned by his degenerate wit, shouted: “Bed-time for Buta!” And later, when Montanus declaimed Lo, now the shepherds have folded their flocks, and the slow-moving darkness ’Gins to spread silence o’er lands that are drowsily lulled into slumber, this same Varus remarked: “What? Night already? I’ll go and pay my morning call on Buta!” You see, nothing was more notorious than Buta’s upside-down manner of life. But this life, as I said, was fashionable at one time. And the reason why some men live thus is not because they think that night in itself offers any greater attractions, but because that which is normal gives them no particular pleasure; light being a bitter enemy of the evil conscience, and, when one craves or scorns all things in proportion as they have cost one much or little, illumination for which one does not pay is an object of contempt. Moreover, the luxurious person wishes to be an object of gossip his whole life; if people are silent about him, he thinks that he is wasting his time. Hence he is uncomfortable whenever any of his actions escape notoriety. Many men eat up their property, and many men keep mistresses. If you would win a reputation among such persons, you must make your programme not only one of luxury but one of notoriety; for in such a busy community wickedness does not discover the ordinary sort of scandal. I heard Pedo Albinovanus, that most attractive story-teller, speaking of his residence above the town-house of Sextus Papinius. Papinius belonged to the tribe of those who shun the light. “About nine o’clock at night I hear the sound of whips. I ask what is going on, and they tell me that Papinius is going over his accounts. About twelve there is a strenuous shouting; I ask what the matter is, and they say he is exercising his voice. About two a.m. I ask the significance of the sound of wheels; they tell me that he is off for a drive. And at dawn there is a tremendous flurry-calling of slaves and butlers, and pandemonium among the cooks. I ask the meaning of this also, and they tell me that he has called for his cordial and his appetizer, after leaving the bath. His dinner,” said Pedo, “never went beyond the day, for he lived very sparingly; he was lavish with nothing but the night. Accordingly, if you believe those who call him tight-fisted and mean, you will call him also a ‘slave of the lamp.’” You should not be surprised at finding so many special manifestations of the vices; for vices vary, and there are countless phases of them, nor can all their various kinds be classified. The method of maintaining righteousness is simple; the method of maintaining wickedness is complicated, and has infinite opportunity to swerve. And the same holds true of character; if you follow nature, character is easy to manage, free, and with very slight shades of difference; but the sort of person I have mentioned possesses badly warped character, out of harmony with all things, including himself. The chief cause, however, of this disease seems to me to be a squeamish revolt from the normal existence. Just as such persons mark themselves off from others in their dress, or in the elaborate arrangement of their dinners, or in the elegance of their carriages; even so they desire to make themselves peculiar by their way of dividing up the hours of their day. They are unwilling to be wicked in the conventional way, because notoriety is the reward of their sort of wickedness. Notoriety is what all such men seek—men who are, so to speak, living backwards. For this reason, Lucilius, let us keep to the way which Nature has mapped out for us, and let us not swerve therefrom. If we follow Nature, all is easy and unobstructed; but if we combat Nature, our life differs not a whit from that of men who row against the current. Farewell.

(1) Detrimentum iam dies sensit; resiluit aliquantum, ita tamen ut liberale adhuc spatium sit si quis cum ipso, ut ita dicam, die surgat. Officiosiormeliorque si quis illum expectat et lucem primam excipit: turpis qui altosole semisomnus iacet, cuius uigilia medio die incipit; et adhuc multishoc antelucanum est. (2) Sunt qui officia lucis noctisque peruerterintnec ante diducant oculos hesterna graues crapula quam adpetere nox coepit. Qualis illorum condicio dicitur quos natura, ut ait Vergilius, pedibusnostris subditos e contrario posuit, talis horum contraria omnibus non regio sed uita est. (3) Sunt quidam ineadem urbe antipodes qui, ut M. Cato ait, nec orientem umquam solem uideruntnec occidentem. Hos tu existimas scire quemadmodum uiuendum sit, qui nesciuntquando? Et hi mortem timent, in quam se uiui condiderunt? tam infausti ominisquam nocturnae aues sunt. Licet in uino unguentoque tenebras suas exigant,licet epulis et quidem in multa fericula discoctis totum peruersae uigiliaetempus educant, non conuiuantur sed iusta sibi faciunt. Mortuis certe interdiuparentatur. At mehercules nullus agenti dies longus est. Extendamus uitam:huius et officium et argumentum actus est. Circumscribatur nox et aliquidex illa in diem transferatur. (4) Aues quae conuiuiis comparantur, ut inmotaefacile pinguescant, in obscuro continentur; ita sine ulla exercitationeiacentibus tumor pigrum corpus inuadit et ~superba umbra~ iners saginasubcrescit. At istorum corpora qui se tenebris dicauerunt foeda uisuntur,quippe suspectior illis quam morbo pallentibus color est: languidi et euanidialbent, et in uiuis caro morticina est. Hoc tamen minimum in illis malorumdixerim: quanto plus tenebrarum in animo est! ille in se stupet, ille caligat,inuidet caecis. Quis umquam oculos tenebrarum causa habuit? (5) Interrogas quomodo haec animo prauitas fiat auersandi diem et totamuitam in noctem transferendi? Omnia uitia contra naturam pugnant, omniadebitum ordinem deserunt; hoc est luxuriae propositum, gaudere peruersisnec tantum discedere a recto sed quam longissime abire, deinde etiam econtrario stare. (6) Non uidentur tibi contra naturam uiuere <qui> ieiunibibunt, qui uinum recipiunt inanibus uenis et ad cibum ebrii transeunt? Atqui frequens hoc adulescentium uitium est, qui uires excolunt <ut>in ipso paene balinei limine inter nudos bibant, immo potent et sudoremquem mouerunt potionibus crebris ac feruentibus subinde destringant. Postprandium aut cenam bibere uulgare est; hoc patres familiae rustici faciuntet uerae uoluptatis ignari: merum illud delectat quod non innatat cibo,quod libere penetrat ad neruos; illa ebrietas iuuat quae in uacuum uenit. (7) Non uidentur tibi contra naturam uiuere qui commutant cum feminis uestem? Non uiuunt contra naturam qui spectant ut pueritia splendeat tempore alieno? Quid fieri crudelius uel miserius potest? numquam uir erit, ut diu uirumpati possit? et cum illum contumeliae sexus eripuisse debuerat, non neaetas quidem eripiet? (8) Non uiuunt contra naturam qui hieme concupiscuntrosam fomentoque aquarum calentium et locorum apta mutatione bruma lilium(florem uernum) exprimunt? Non uiuunt contra naturam qui pomaria in summisturribus serunt? quorum siluae in tectis domuum ac fastigiis nutant, indeortis radicibus quo inprobe cacumina egissent? Non uiuunt contra naturamqui fundamenta thermarum in mari iaciunt et delicate natare ipsi sibi nonuidentur nisi calentia stagna fluctu ac tempestate feriantur? (9) Cum institueruntomnia contra naturae consuetudinem uelle, nouissime in totum ab illa desciscunt. 'Lucet: somni tempus est. Quies est: nunc exerceamur, nunc gestemur, nuncprandeamus. Iam lux propius accedit: tempus est cenae. Non oportet id facerequod populus; res sordida est trita ac uulgari uia uiuere. Dies publicusrelinquatur: proprium nobis ac peculiare mane fiat. ' (10) Isti uero mihidefunctorum loco sunt; quantulum enim a funere absunt et quidem acerboqui ad faces et cereos uiuunt? Hanc uitam agere eodem tempore multos meminimus, inter quos et Acilium Butam praetorium, cui post patrimonium ingens consumptum Tiberius paupertatemconfitenti 'sero' inquit 'experrectus es'. (11) Recitabat Montanus Iuliuscarmen, tolerabilis poeta et amicitia Tiberi notus et frigore. Ortus etoccasus libentissime inserebat; itaque cum indignaretur quidam illum totodie recitasse et negaret accedendum ad recitationes eius, Natta Pinariusait: 'numquid possum liberalius agere? paratus sum illum audire ab ortu ad occasum'. Varus eques Romanus, M. Vinicii comes, cenarum bonarum adsectator, quasinprobitate linguae merebatur, exclamauit 'incipit Buta dormire'. (13) Deinde cum subinde recitasset idem Varus inquit 'quid dicis? iam nox est? ibo et Butam salutabo'. Nihil erat notius hac eius uita in contrarium circumacta; quam, utdixi, multi eodem tempore egerunt. (14) Causa autem est ita uiuendi quibusdam,non quia aliquid existiment noctem ipsam habere iucundius, sed quia nihiliuuat solitum, et grauis malae conscientiae lux est, et omnia concupiscentiaut contemnenti prout magno aut paruo empta sunt fastidio est lumen gratuitum. Praeterea luxuriosi uitam suam esse in sermonibus dum uiuunt uolunt; namsi tacetur, perdere se putant operam. Itaque aliquotiens faciunt quod excitetfamam. Multi bona comedunt, multi amicas habent: ut inter istos nomen inuenias,opus est non tantum luxuriosam rem sed notabilem facere; in tam occupataciuitate fabulas uulgaris nequitia non inuenit. (15) Pedonem Albinouanumnarrantem audieramus (erat autem fabulator elegantissimus) habitasse sesupra domum Sex. Papini. Is erat ex hac turba lucifugarum. 'Audio' inquit'circa horam tertiam noctis flagellorum sonum. Quaero quid faciat: diciturrationes accipere. Audio circa horam sextam noctis clamorem concitatum. Quaero quid sit: dicitur uocem exercere. Quaero circa horam octauam noctisquid sibi ille sonus rotarum uelit: gestari dicitur. (16) Circa lucem discurritur,pueri uocantur, cellarii, coqui tumultuantur. Quaero quid sit: diciturmulsum et halicam poposcisse, a balneo exisse. "Excedebat" inquit "huiusdiem cena. " Minime; ualde enim frugaliter uiuebat; nihil consumebat nisinoctem. ' Itaque Pedo dicentibus illum quibusdam auarum et sordidum 'uos'inquit 'illum et lychnobium dicetis'. (17) Non debes admirari si tantas inuenis uitiorum proprietates: uariasunt, innumerabiles habent facies, conprendi eorum genera non possunt. Simplex recti cura est, multiplex praui, et quantumuis nouas declinationescapit. Idem moribus euenit: naturam sequentium faciles sunt, soluti sunt,exiguas differentias habent; (his) distorti plurimum et omnibus et interse dissident. (18) Causa tamen praecipua mihi uidetur huius morbi uitaecommunis fastidium. Quomodo cultu se a ceteris distinguunt, quomodo elegantiacenarum, munditiis uehiculorum, sic uolunt separari etiam temporum dispositione. Nolunt solita peccare quibus peccandi praemium infamia est. Hanc petuntomnes isti qui, ut ita dicam, retro uiuunt. (19) Ideo, Lucili, tenendanobis uia est quam natura praescripsit, nec ab illa declinandum: illamsequentibus omnia facilia, expedita sunt, contra illam nitentibus non aliauita est quam contra aquam remigantibus. Vale.