_One of Horace's slaves, making use of that freedom which was allowed
them at the Saturnalia, rates his master in a droll and severe manner_.
I have a long while been attending [to you], and would fain speak a few
words [in return; but, being] a slave, I am afraid. What, Davus? Yes,
Davus, a faithful servant to his master and an honest one, at least
sufficiently so: that is, for you to think his life in no danger. Well
(since our ancestors would have it so), use the freedom of December
speak on.
One part of mankind are fond of their vices with some constancy and
adhere to their purpose: a considerable part fluctuates; one while
embracing the right, another while liable to depravity. Priscus,
frequently observed with three rings, sometimes with his left hand bare,
lived so irregularly that he would change his robe every hour; from a
magnificent edifice, he would on a sudden hide himself in a place,
whence a decent freedman could scarcely come out in a decent manner; one
while he would choose to lead the life of a rake at Rome, another while
that of a teacher at Athens; born under the evil influence of every
Vertumnus. That buffoon, Volanerius, when the deserved gout had crippled
his fingers, maintained [a fellow] that he had hired at a daily price,
who took up the dice and put them into a box for him: yet by how much
more constant was he in his vice, by so much less wretched was he than
the former person, who is now in difficulties by too loose, now by too
tight a rein.
"Will you not tell to-day, you varlet, whither such wretched stuff as
this tends?" "Why, to you, I say." "In what respect to me, scoundrel?"
"You praise the happiness and manners of the ancient [Roman] people; and
yet, if any god were on a sudden to reduce you to to them, you, the same
man, would earnestly beg to be excused; either because you are not
really of opinion that what you bawl about is right; or because you are
irresolute in defending the right, and hesitate, in vain desirous to
extract your foot from the mire. At Rome, you long for the country; when
you are in the country, fickle, you extol the absent city to the skies.
If haply you are invited out nowhere to supper, you praise your quiet
dish of vegetables; and as if you ever go abroad upon compulsion, you
think yourself so happy, and do so hug yourself, that you are obliged to
drink out nowhere. Should Maecenas lay his commands on you to come late,
at the first lighting up of the lamps, as his guest; 'Will nobody bring
the oil with more expedition? Does any body hear?' You stutter with a
mighty bellowing, and storm with rage. Milvius, and the buffoons [who
expected to sup with you], depart, after having uttered curses not
proper to be repeated. Any one may say, for I own [the truth], that I am
easy to be seduced by my appetite; I snuff up my nose at a savory smell:
I am weak, lazy; and, if you have a mind to add any thing else, I am a
sot. But seeing you are as I am, and perhaps something worse, why do you
willfully call me to an account as if you were the better man; and, with
specious phrases, disguise your own vice? What, if you are found out to
be a greater fool than me, who was purchased for five hundred drachmas?
Forbear to terrify me with your looks; restrain your hand and your
anger, while I relate to you what Crispinus' porter taught me.
"Another man's wife captivates you; a harlot, Davus: which of us sins
more deservingly of the cross? When keen nature inflames me, any common
wench that picks me up, dismisses me neither dishonored, nor caring
whether a richer or a handsomer man enjoys her next. You, when you have
cast off your ensigns of dignity, your equestrian ring and your Roman
habit, turn out from a magistrate a wretched Dama, hiding with a cape
your perfumed head: are you not really what you personate? You are
introduced, apprehensive [of consequences]; and, as you are altercating
With your passions, your bones shake with fear. What is the difference
whether you go condemned [like a gladiator], to be galled with scourges,
or slain with the sword; or be closed up in a filthy chest, where [the
maid], concious of her mistress' crime, has stowed you? Has not the
husband of the offending dame a just power over both; against the
seducer even a juster? But she neither changes her dress, nor place, nor
sins to that excess [which you do]; since the woman is in dread of you,
nor gives any credit to you, though you profess to love her. You must go
under the yoke knowingly, and put all your fortune, your life, and
reputation, together with your limbs, into the power of an enraged
husband. Have you escaped? I suppose, then, you will be afraid [for the
future]; and, being warned, will be cautious. No, you will seek occasion
when you may be again in terror, and again may be likely to perish. O so
often a slave! What beast, when it has once escaped by breaking its
toils, absurdly trusts itself to them again? You say, "I am no
adulterer." Nor, by Hercules, am I a thief, when I wisely pass by the
silver vases. Take away the danger, and vagrant nature will spring
forth, when restraints are removed. Are you my superior, subjected as
you are, to the dominion of so many things and persons, whom the
praetor's rod, though placed on your head three or four times over, can
never free from this wretched solicitude? Add, to what has been said
above, a thing of no less weight; whether he be an underling, who obeys
the master-slave (as it is your custom to affirm), or only a
fellow-slave, what am I in respect of you? You, for example, who have
the command of me, are in subjection to other things, and are led about,
like a puppet movable by means of wires not its own.
"Who then is free? The wise man, who has dominion over himself; whom
neither poverty, nor death, nor chains affright; brave in the checking
of his appetites, and in contemning honors; and, perfect in himself,
polished and round as a globe, so that nothing from without can retard,
in consequence of its smoothness; against whom misfortune ever advances
ineffectually. Can you, out of these, recognize any thing applicable to
yourself? A woman demands five talents of you, plagues you, and after
you are turned out of doors, bedews you with cold water: she calls you
again. Rescue your neck from this vile yoke; come, say, I am free, I am
free. You are not able: for an implacable master oppresses your mind,
and claps the sharp spurs to your jaded appetite, and forces you on
though reluctant. When you, mad one, quite languish at a picture by
Pausias; how are you less to blame than I, when I admire the combats of
Fulvius and Rutuba and Placideianus, with their bended knees, painted in
crayons or charcoal, as if the men were actually engaged, and push and
parry, moving their weapons? Davus is a scoundrel and a loiterer; but
you have the character of an exquisite and expert connoisseur in
antiquities. If I am allured by a smoking pasty, I am a good-for-nothing
fellow: does your great virtue and soul resist delicate entertainments?
Why is a tenderness for my belly too destructive for me? For my back
pays for it. How do you come off with more impunity, since you hanker
after such dainties as can not be had for a little expense? Then those
delicacies, perpetually taken, pall upon the stomach; and your mistaken
feet refuse to support your sickly body. Is that boy guilty, who by
night pawns a stolen scraper for some grapes? Has he nothing servile
about him, who in indulgence to his guts sells his estates? Add to this,
that you yourself can not be an hour by yourself, nor dispose of your
leisure in a right manner; and shun yourself as a fugitive and vagabond,
one while endeavoring with wine, another while with sleep, to cheat
care--in vain: for the gloomy companion presses upon you, and pursues
you in your flight.
"Where can I get a stone?" "What occasion is there for it?" "Where some
darts?" "The man is either mad, or making verses." "If you do not take
yourself away in an instant, you shall go [and make] a ninth laborer at
my Sabine estate."
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