‘Do they stand alone in that respect?’ asked Seneca, fixing a keen look on him. ‘Do masters never show bad passions?’
Every one understood the allusion, for in the days of Augustus the young man’s ancestor, Vedius Pollio, had ordered a slave to be flung into the fish-pond to feed the lampreys, merely because he fell and broke a crystal vase. Augustus, who was dining with Pollio that day, was so indignant that he ordered the slave to be set free, and every crystal vase in the house to be broken.
‘Seneca will begin to think himself mistaken if I say that I agree with him,’ said Petronius. ‘Nevertheless, I do. I cannot bear to enter a friend’s house and hear it clanking with chains and ringing with yells, like an ergastulum.’
‘Petronius is the soul of good nature,’ said Cassius Longinus; ‘but I pity Rome if those maudlin views prevail.’
‘Yes,’ echoed the fierce Cingonius Varro; ‘so many slaves so many foes. We nobles live all our lives in a sort of beleaguered garrison. If the Senate does not do its duty, I shall emigrate.’
‘Who makes our slaves our foes?’ answered Seneca. ‘Mine are not. Most of them are faithful to me. They are my humble friends. I believe they love me. I know that many of them would die for me. We become slaves ourselves because we have so many.’
‘Tush!’ said Scævinus. ‘These sentimentalities will ruin us. Why, some of us have a thousand slaves, and some of us have more. We don’t know their names, and have to keep a nomenclator to tell us. Galba is the only person I know who keeps up the ridiculous old fashion of all the slaves and freedmen coming in twice daily, to say “Good morning” and “Good evening.” Are we to waste our time in trying to curry favour with them? I rule mine by the lash and the chain and the torture. Ha! Pudens, my grave newly-wedded primipilar; here will be some work for you.’
‘Never!’ said Pudens. ‘I would rather resign my commission than carry out the Silanian law and superintend the slaughter of the innocent.’
‘And you, my young Titus?’ asked Petronius. ‘I hear you are going soon to see some military service. Do you think that your step-mother Cænis and the boy Domitian will be able to keep your slaves in order?’
‘We have but few, Petronius,’ said Titus; ‘but they love us. When I was ill, all the familia were as tender in their attentions as if they had been brothers.’