Letter 47

[1] I was glad to learn, from people who come from your household, that you live on familiar terms with your slaves. This is what befits your good sense; this is what befits your education. "They are slaves." On the contrary, they are men. "They are slaves." On the contrary, they are housemates. "They are slaves." On the contrary, they are lowly friends. "They are slaves." On the contrary, they are fellow-slaves, if you reflect that Fortune has exactly as much power over the one as over the other. [2] And so I laugh at those people who think it disgraceful to dine with their own slave. Why, except that the most arrogant of customs has surrounded the dining master with a crowd of slaves standing about? He eats more than he can hold, and with enormous greed loads down a belly that is distended and by now unaccustomed to the belly's proper function, so that he takes greater effort to discharge everything than he took to cram it in. [3] But the wretched slaves are not allowed to move their lips, not even for the purpose of speaking. Every murmur is checked with the rod, and not even chance sounds are spared the lash: a cough, a sneeze, a hiccup. A silence broken by any sound at all is paid for with great suffering. All night long they stand fasting and mute. [4] Thus it comes about that those who are not allowed to speak in their master's presence speak about their master. But those slaves who had conversation not only in their masters' presence but with the masters themselves, whose mouths were not stitched shut, were ready to stretch out their necks on their master's behalf, to turn an imminent danger upon their own heads; they would speak at banquets, but they kept silent under torture. [5] Then this proverb, born of the same arrogance, gets bandied about: that we have as many enemies as we have slaves. We do not have them as enemies; we make them so. Meanwhile I pass over other cruel, inhuman practices, the fact that we abuse them not even as though they were men, but as though they were beasts of burden. When we have reclined to dine, one slave wipes up the spittle, another, crouched beneath the couch, gathers up the leavings of the drunken guests. [6] Another carves the costly birds; running his trained hand in set strokes across the breast and the rump, he flicks off the portions, an unhappy man, who lives for this one thing, to carve fattened fowl elegantly, except that the man who teaches this for the sake of pleasure is more wretched than the man who learns it out of necessity. [7] Another, the wine-server, got up in the fashion of a woman, struggles against his age: he cannot escape boyhood, he is dragged back to it, and now, though of a soldier's build, smooth-skinned, his hairs rubbed away or plucked out by the roots, he stays awake the whole night through, which he divides between his master's drunkenness and his master's lust, and in the bedroom he is a man, at the banquet a boy. [8] Another, to whom the appraisal of the guests has been entrusted, stands by, the unhappy fellow, and watches to see whom flattery and lack of restraint, whether of appetite or of tongue, will recall for the next day. Add to these the caterers, who have a refined knowledge of their master's palate, who know what flavor rouses him, what sight delights him, by what novelty he can be revived when feeling sick, what he by now finds tiresome out of sheer satiety, what he will hunger for on a given day. With such men he cannot endure to dine, and he reckons it a diminishment of his own grandeur to come to the same table with his slave. Heaven help us! How many masters does he have among these very men! [9] I have seen, standing before the threshold of Callistus, his former master, and I have seen the very man who had stuck the sale-ticket on Callistus, who had put him up for sale among the rejected merchandise, shut out while others were going in. That slave, who had been flung into the first lot, the one on which the auctioneer tries out his voice, repaid him in kind: he in his turn rejected him, and he in his turn judged him unworthy of his house. The master sold Callistus; but how dearly did Callistus make the master pay! [10] Will you please consider that the man you call your slave sprang from the same seeds, enjoys the same sky, breathes the same, lives the same, dies the same! You can see him as freeborn just as much as he can see you as a slave. In the disaster of Varus, Fortune brought low many men of the most splendid birth, men who were taking their first step toward senatorial rank through military service: one of them she made a shepherd, another the keeper of a hut. Now go and despise a man of that station into which, even as you despise it, you may yourself pass. [11] I do not want to launch myself into a vast subject and discourse on the treatment of slaves, toward whom we are most arrogant, most cruel, most insulting. But this is the sum of my teaching: live with your inferior just as you would wish your superior to live with you. As often as it comes into your mind how much is permitted to you against your slave, let it come into your mind that just as much is permitted to your master against you. [12] "But I," you say, "have no master." You are at a good age: perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba began to serve, at what age Croesus, at what age the mother of Darius, at what age Plato, at what age Diogenes? [13] Live with your slave mercifully, even affably; admit him both into your conversation and into your counsel and into your company. At this point the whole troop of the fastidious will cry out at me: "Nothing is more degrading than this, nothing more disgraceful." Yet these are the very men I shall catch kissing the hands of other people's slaves. [14] Do you not even see this, how our ancestors stripped away from masters all that was odious, and from slaves all that was insulting? They called the master "father of the household," and the slaves "members of the family" [familiares] - a usage that still survives in the mimes; they established a holiday on which it was the rule that masters should eat with their slaves - not as the only day for it, but as an obligatory one; they allowed the slaves to hold offices within the household and to pronounce judgment, and they judged the household to be a small commonwealth. [15] "What then? Shall I bring all my slaves to my table?" No more than you would bring all free men. You are mistaken if you think I would reject certain ones as if for the lowliness of their work, such as that mule-driver and that ox-herd. I will not appraise them by their duties but by their characters: each man gives himself his own character, but chance assigns his duties. Let some dine with you because they are worthy, others so that they may become worthy; for if there is anything slavish in them from their low associations, the companionship of more honorable men will shake it off. [16] There is no reason, my dear Lucilius, why you should look for a friend only in the forum and the senate-house: if you pay careful attention, you will find one at home too. Often good material lies idle for want of a craftsman: try and put it to the test. Just as he is a fool who, intending to buy a horse, does not inspect the horse itself but its saddle-cloth and its bridle, so he is the greatest fool who appraises a man either by his clothing or by his condition, which is wrapped around us only as a garment. [17] "He is a slave." But perhaps free in spirit. "He is a slave." Will this harm him? Show me who is not a slave: one is a slave to lust, another to greed, another to ambition, all to hope, all to fear. I will point you to an ex-consul who is the slave of a little old woman, a rich man who is the slave of a servant-girl; I will show you young men of the noblest birth who are the chattels of pantomime actors. No slavery is more disgraceful than the voluntary kind. So there is no reason why those fastidious people should deter you from showing yourself cheerful toward your slaves and not arrogantly superior: let them respect you rather than fear you. [18] Someone will now say that I am calling slaves to the cap of liberty [pilleus, the felt cap given to freed slaves] and casting masters down from their high estate, because I said "let them respect their master rather than fear him." "So," he says, "is that really it? Are they to pay respect like clients, like morning callers?" Whoever says this will forget that what is enough for a god is not too little for masters. The one who is respected is also loved: love cannot be mixed with fear. [19] I therefore judge that you act entirely rightly in not wishing to be feared by your slaves, in using the correction of words: it is dumb animals that are admonished by blows. Not everything that offends us also injures us; but our luxuries drive us to the point of madness, so that whatever does not answer to our wish provokes our anger. [20] We put on the tempers of kings; for they too, forgetful both of their own strength and of others' weakness, flare up and rage as though they had received an injury, when the very magnitude of their fortune keeps them perfectly safe from the danger of any such thing. And they are not unaware of this, but by complaining they seize upon an opportunity to do harm; they pretend to have received an injury so that they may inflict one. [21] I do not want to detain you any longer; for you have no need of exhortation. Good character has this among its other qualities: it is pleased with itself, it endures. Wickedness is fickle, it changes often, not for the better but for something different. Farewell.

I am glad to learn, through those who come from you, that you live on friendly terms with your slaves. This befits a sensible and well-educated man like yourself. “They are slaves,” people declare. Nay, rather they are men. “Slaves!” No, comrades. “Slaves!” No, they are unpretentious friends. “Slaves!” No, they are our fellow-slaves, if one reflects that Fortune has equal rights over slaves and free men alike. That is why I smile at those who think it degrading for a man to dine with his slave. But why should they think it degrading? It is only because purse-proud etiquette surrounds a householder at his dinner with a mob of standing slaves. The master eats more than he can hold, and with monstrous greed loads his belly until it is stretched and at length ceases to do the work of a belly; so that he is at greater pains to discharge all the food than he was to stuff it down. All this time the poor slaves may not move their lips, even to speak. The slightest murmur is repressed by the rod; even a chance sound,—a cough, a sneeze, or a hiccup,—is visited with the lash. There is a grievous penalty for the slightest breach of silence. All night long they must stand about, hungry and dumb. The result of it all is that these slaves, who may not talk in their master’s presence, talk about their master. But the slaves of former days, who were permitted to converse not only in their master’s presence, but actually with him, whose mouths were not stitched up tight, were ready to bare their necks for their master, to bring upon their own heads any danger that threatened him; they spoke at the feast, but kept silence during torture. Finally, the saying, in allusion to this same high-handed treatment, becomes current: “As many enemies as you have slaves.” They are not enemies when we acquire them; we make them enemies. I shall pass over other cruel and inhuman conduct towards them; for we maltreat them, not as if they were men, but as if they were beasts of burden. When we recline at a banquet, one slave mops up the disgorged food, another crouches beneath the table and gathers up the left-overs of the tipsy guests. Another carves the priceless game birds; with unerring strokes and skilled hand he cuts choice morsels along the breast or the rump. Hapless fellow, to live only for the purpose of cutting fat capons correctly,—unless, indeed, the other man is still more unhappy than he, who teaches this art for pleasure’s sake, rather than he who learns it because he must. Another, who serves the wine, must dress like a woman and wrestle with his advancing years; he cannot get away from his boyhood; he is dragged back to it; and though he has already acquired a soldier’s figure, he is kept beardless by having his hair smoothed away or plucked out by the roots, and he must remain awake throughout the night, dividing his time between his master’s drunkenness and his lust; in the chamber he must be a man, at the feast a boy. Another, whose duty it is to put a valuation on the guests, must stick to his task, poor fellow, and watch to see whose flattery and whose immodesty, whether of appetite or of language, is to get them an invitation for to-morrow. Think also of the poor purveyors of food, who note their masters’ tastes with delicate skill, who know what special flavours will sharpen their appetite, what will please their eyes, what new combinations will rouse their cloyed stomachs, what food will excite their loathing through sheer satiety, and what will stir them to hunger on that particular day. With slaves like these the master cannot bear to dine; he would think it beneath his dignity to associate with his slave at the same table! Heaven forfend! But how many masters is he creating in these very men! I have seen standing in the line, before the door of Callistus, the former master, of Callistus; I have seen the master himself shut out while others were welcomed,—the master who once fastened the “For Sale” ticket on Callistus and put him in the market along with the good-for-nothing slaves. But he has been paid off by that slave who was shuffled into the first lot of those on whom the crier practises his lungs; the slave, too, in his turn has cut his name from the list and in his turn has adjudged him unfit to enter his house. The master sold Callistus, but how much has Callistus made his master pay for! Kindly remember that he whom you call your slave sprang from the same stock, is smiled upon by the same skies, and on equal terms with yourself breathes, lives, and dies. It is just as possible for you to see in him a free-born man as for him to see in you a slave. As a result of the massacres in Marius’s day, many a man of distinguished birth, who was taking the first steps toward senatorial rank by service in the army, was humbled by fortune, one becoming a shepherd, another a caretaker of a country cottage. Despise, then, if you dare, those to whose estate you may at any time descend, even when you are despising them. I do not wish to involve myself in too large a question, and to discuss the treatment of slaves, towards whom we Romans are excessively haughty, cruel, and insulting. But this is the kernel of my advice: Treat your inferiors as you would be treated by your betters. And as often as you reflect how much power you have over a slave, remember that your master has just as much power over you. “But I have no master,” you say. You are still young; perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba entered captivity, or Croesus, or the mother of Darius, or Plato, or Diogenes? Associate with your slave on kindly, even on affable, terms; let him talk with you, plan with you, live with you. I know that at this point all the exquisites will cry out against me in a body; they will say: “There is nothing more debasing, more disgraceful, than this.” But these are the very persons whom I sometimes surprise kissing the hands of other men’s slaves. Do you not see even this,—how our ancestors removed from masters everything invidious, and from slaves everything insulting? They called the master “father of the household,” and the slaves “members of the household,” a custom which still holds in the mime. They established a holiday on which masters and slaves should eat together,—not as the only day for this custom, but as obligatory on that day in any case. They allowed the slaves to attain honours in the household and to pronounce judgment; they held that a household was a miniature commonwealth. “Do you mean to say,” comes the retort, “that I must seat all my slaves at my own table?” No, not any more than that you should invite all free men to it. You are mistaken if you think that I would bar from my table certain slaves whose duties are more humble, as, for example, yonder muleteer or yonder herdsman; I propose to value them according to their character, and not according to their duties. Each man acquires his character for himself, but accident assigns his duties. Invite some to your table because they deserve the honour, and others that they may come to deserve it. For if there is any slavish quality in them as the result of their low associations, it will be shaken off by intercourse with men of gentler breeding. You need not, my dear Lucilius, hunt for friends only in the forum or in the Senate-house; if you are careful and attentive, you will find them at home also. Good material often stands idle for want of an artist; make the experiment, and you will find it so. As he is a fool who, when purchasing a horse, does not consider the animal’s points, but merely his saddle and bridle; so he is doubly a fool who values a man from his clothes or from his rank, which indeed is only a robe that clothes us. “He is a slave.” His soul, however, may be that of a freeman. “He is a slave.” But shall that stand in his way? Show me a man who is not a slave; one is a slave to lust, another to greed, another to ambition, and all men are slaves to fear. I will name you an ex-consul who is slave to an old hag, a millionaire who is slave to a serving-maid; I will show you youths of the noblest birth in serfdom to pantomime players! No servitude is more disgraceful than that which is self-imposed. You should therefore not be deterred by these finicky persons from showing yourself to your slaves as an affable person and not proudly superior to them; they ought to respect you rather than fear you. Some may maintain that I am now offering the liberty-cap to slaves in general and toppling down lords from their high estate, because I bid slaves respect their masters instead of fearing them. They say: “This is what he plainly means: slaves are to pay respect as if they were clients or early-morning callers!” Anyone who holds this opinion forgets that what is enough for a god cannot be too little for a master. Respect means love, and love and fear cannot be mingled. So I hold that you are entirely right in not wishing to be feared by your slaves, and in lashing them merely with the tongue; only dumb animals need the thong. That which annoys us does not necessarily injure us; but we are driven into wild rage by our luxurious lives, so that whatever does not answer our whims arouses our anger. We don the temper of kings. For they, too, forgetful alike of their own strength and of other men’s weakness, grow white-hot with rage, as if they had received an injury, when they are entirely protected from danger of such injury by their exalted station. They are not unaware that this is true, but by finding fault they seize upon opportunities to do harm; they insist that they have received injuries, in order that they may inflict them. I do not wish to delay you longer; for you need no exhortation. This, among other things, is a mark of good character: it forms its own judgments and abides by them; but badness is fickle and frequently changing, not for the better, but for something different. Farewell.

[1] Libenter ex iis qui a te veniunt cognovi familiariter te cum servis tuis vivere: hoc prudentiam tuam, hoc eruditionem decet. 'Servi sunt.' Immo homines. 'Servi sunt ' Immo contubernales. 'Servi sunt.' Immo humiles amici. 'Servi sunt.' Immo conservi, si cogitaveris tantundem in utrosque licere fortunae. [2] Itaque rideo istos qui turpe existimant cum servo suo cenare: quare, nisi quia superbissima consuetudo cenanti domino stantium servorum turbam circumdedit? Est ille plus quam capit, et ingenti aviditate onerat distentum ventrem ac desuetum iam ventris officio, ut maiore opera omnia egerat quam ingessit. [3] At infelicibus servis movere labra ne in hoc quidem ut loquantur, licet; virga murmur omne compescitur, et ne fortuita quidem verberibus excepta sunt, tussis, sternumenta, singultus; magno malo ulla voce interpellatum silentium luitur; nocte tota ieiuni mutique perstant. [4] Sic fit ut isti de domino loquantur quibus coram domino loqui non licet. At illi quibus non tantum coram dominis sed cum ipsis erat sermo, quorum os non consuebatur, parati erant pro domino porrigere cervicem, periculum imminens in caput suum avertere; in conviviis loquebantur, sed in tormentis tacebant. [5] Deinde eiusdem arrogantiae proverbium iactatur, totidem hostes esse quot servos: non habemus illos hostes sed facimus. Alia interim crudelia, inhumana praetereo, quod ne tamquam hominibus quidem sed tamquam iumentis abutimur. [quod] Cum ad cenandum discubuimus, alius sputa deterget, alius reliquias temulentorum <toro> subditus colligit. [6] Alius pretiosas aves scindit; per pectus et clunes certis ductibus circumferens eruditam manum frusta excutit, infelix, qui huic uni rei vivit, ut altilia decenter secet, nisi quod miserior est qui hoc voluptatis causa docet quam qui necessitatis discit. [7] Alius vini minister in muliebrem modum ornatus cum aetate luctatur: non potest effugere pueritiam, retrahitur, iamque militari habitu glaber retritis pilis aut penitus evulsis tota nocte pervigilat, quam inter ebrietatem domini ac libidinem dividit et in cubiculo vir, in convivio puer est. [8] Alius, cui convivarum censura permissa est, perstat infelix et exspectat quos adulatio et intemperantia aut gulae aut linguae revocet in crastinum. Adice obsonatores quibus dominici palati notitia subtilis est, qui sciunt cuius illum rei sapor excitet, cuius delectet aspectus, cuius novitate nauseabundus erigi possit, quid iam ipsa satietate fastidiat, quid illo die esuriat. Cum his cenare non sustinet et maiestatis suae deminutionem putat ad eandem mensam cum servo suo accedere. Di melius! quot ex istis dominos habet! [9] Stare ante limen Callisti domi num suum vidi et eum qui illi impegerat titulum, qui inter reicula manicipia produxerat, aliis intrantibus excludi. Rettulit illi gratiam servus ille in primam decuriam coniectus, in qua vocem praeco experitur: et ipse illum invicem apologavit, et ipse non iudicavit domo sua dignum. Dominus Callistum vendidit: sed domino quam multa Callistus! [10] Vis tu cogitare istum quem servum tuum vocas ex isdem seminibus ortum eodem frui caelo, aeque spirare, aeque vivere, aeque mori! tam tu illum videre ingenuum potes quam ille te servum. Variana clade multos splendidissime natos, senatorium per militiam auspicantes gradum, fortuna depressit: alium ex illis pastorem, alium custodem casae fecit. Contemne nunc eius fortunae hominem in quam transire dum contemnis potes. [11] Nolo in ingentem me locum immittere et de usu servorum disputare, in quos superbissimi, crudelissimi, contumeliosissimi sumus. Haec tamen praecepti mei summa est: sic cum inferiore vivas quemadmodum tecum superiorem velis vivere. Quotiens in mentem venerit quantum tibi in servum <tuum> liceat, veniat in mentem tantundem in te domino tuo licere. [12] 'At ego' inquis 'nullum habeo dominum.' Bona aetas est: forsitan habebis. Nescis qua aetate Hecuba servire coeperit, qua Croesus, qua Darei mater, qua Platon, qua Diogenes? [13] Vive cum servo clementer, comiter quoque, et in sermonem illum admitte et in consilium et in convictum. Hoc loco acclamabit mihi tota manus delicatorum 'nihil hac re humilius, nihil turpius'. Hos ego eosdem deprehendam alienorum servorum osculantes manum. [14] Ne illud quidem videtis, quam omnem invidiam maiores nostri dominis, omnem contumeliam servis detraxerint? Dominum patrem familiae appellaverunt, servos - quod etiam in mimis adhuc durat - familiares; instituerunt diem festum, non quo solo cum servis domini vescerentur, sed quo utique; honores illis in domo gerere, ius dicere permiserunt et domum pusillam rem publicam esse iudicaverunt. [15] 'Quid ergo? omnes servos admovebo mensae meae?' Non magis quam omnes liberos. Erras si existimas me quosdam quasi sordidioris operae reiecturum, ut puta illum mulionem et illum bubulcum. Non ministeriis illos aestimabo sed moribus: sibi quisque dat mores, ministeria casus assignat. Quidam cenent tecum quia digni sunt, quidam ut sint; si quid enim in illis ex sordida conversatione servile est, honestiorum convictus excutiet. [16] Non est, mi Lucili, quod amicum tantum in foro et in curia quaeras: si diligenter attenderis, et domi invenies. Saepe bona materia cessat sine artifice: tempta et experire. Quemadmodum stultus est qui equum empturus non ipsum inspicit sed stratum eius ac frenos, sic stultissimus est qui hominem aut ex veste aut ex condicione, quae vestis modo nobis circumdata est, aestimat. [17] 'Servus est.' Sed fortasse liber animo. 'Servus est.' Hoc illi nocebit? Ostende quis non sit: alius libidini servit, alius avaritiae, alius ambitioni, <omnes spei>, omnes timori. Dabo consularem aniculae servientem, dabo ancillulae divitem, ostendam nobilissimos iuvenes mancipia pantomimorum: nulla servitus turpior est quam voluntaria. Quare non est quod fastidiosi isti te deterreant quominus servis tuis hilarem te praestes et non superbe superiorem: colant potius te quam timeant. [18] Dicet aliquis nunc me vocare ad pilleum servos et dominos de fastigio suo deicere, quod dixi, 'colant potius dominum quam timeant'. 'Ita' inquit 'prorsus? colant tamquam clientes, tamquam salutatores?' Hoc qui dixerit obliviscetur id dominis parum non esse quod deo sat est. Qui colitur, et amatur: non potest amor cum timore misceri. [19] Rectissime ergo facere te iudico quod timeri a servis tuis non vis, quod verborum castigatione uteris: verberibus muta admonentur. Non quidquid nos offendit et laedit; sed ad rabiem cogunt pervenire deliciae, ut quidquid non ex voluntate respondit iram evocet. [20] Regum nobis induimus animos; nam illi quoque obliti et suarum virium et imbecillitatis alienae sic excandescunt, sic saeviunt, quasi iniuriam acceperint, a cuius rei periculo illos fortunae suae magnitudo tutissimos praestat. Nec hoc ignorant, sed occasionem nocendi captant querendo; acceperunt iniuriam ut facerent. [21] Diutius te morari nolo; non est enim tibi exhortatione opus. Hoc habent inter cetera boni mores: placent sibi, permanent. Levis est malitia, saepe mutatur, non in melius sed in aliud. Vale.