Letter 97

[1] You are mistaken, my dear Lucilius, if you suppose that extravagance, the neglect of good morals, and the other faults that each man charges against his own age belong specially to our generation: these things belong to human beings, not to particular periods. No age has been free of fault; and if you set out to weigh the licentiousness of any given era, it shames me to say it, but never was wrongdoing more open than in Cato's own presence. [2] Could anyone believe that money was passed around in that trial where Publius Clodius was the defendant, on the charge of the adultery he had committed with Caesar's wife in the secret rite, after violating the sacred observances of that sacrifice which is said to be performed 'on behalf of the people'—a rite in which all men are removed so completely outside the enclosure that even the pictures of male animals are covered over? And yet money was given to the jurors, and—what is more disgraceful even than this bargain—on top of it the defiling of married women and of noble young men was exacted as the price. [3] There was less sin in the charge than in the acquittal: a man accused of adultery distributed adulteries, and felt no security about his own safety until he had made his jurors men like himself. These things were done in that very trial in which, if nothing else, Cato had given evidence. I will set down Cicero's own words, since the matter passes belief. [From the first book of Cicero's Letters to Atticus] [4] 'He summoned them to himself, made promises, interceded, paid out. And then—good gods, what a ruined state of things!—to some of the jurors, as a topping-up of their fee, there were even nights with particular women and introductions to noble young men.' [5] There is no leisure to complain about the price; there was more in the extras. 'Do you want the wife of that austere fellow? I will give her to you. Do you want this rich man's wife? I will procure you a night with her. Unless you commit adultery, condemn him. That beautiful woman you long for will come. I promise you her night and will not put it off: before the postponement of the case my pledge will be made good.' To distribute adulteries is more than to commit them; this, indeed, is to serve notice on mothers of households. [6] These Clodian jurors had requested a guard from the Senate—something needful only to those about to convict—and they had obtained it; and so, after the defendant was acquitted, Catulus put it neatly: 'Why,' he said, 'were you asking us for a guard? Was it so that your money would not be snatched from you?' Yet amid such jokes he got off scot-free: before the trial an adulterer, at the trial a pander, who escaped his condemnation more vilely than he deserved it. [7] Do you believe anything could have been more corrupt than those morals, in which lust could be restrained neither by sacred rites nor by a court, in which, during that very inquiry which was being conducted by special decree of the Senate, more was perpetrated than was being investigated? The question was whether a man could be safe after committing adultery: it became plain that one could not be safe without committing it. [8] This was carried out in the presence of Pompey and Caesar, of Cicero and Cato—Cato, I say, that man during whose presence in the audience the people are said not to have allowed themselves to demand the Floralian sport of stripping the courtesans, if you believe that men watched then more strictly than they judged. Such things will be done and have been done, and the licentiousness of cities sometimes settles down through discipline and fear, but never of its own accord. [9] So there is no reason for you to believe that we have given the most to lust and the least to the laws; for this generation of youth is far more frugal than that one, when a defendant denied the adultery before his jurors while the jurors confessed it before the defendant, when debauchery was committed for the sake of having the case decided, when Clodius—made popular by the very vices for which he was guilty—plied the pimp's trade during the very pleading of the case. Could anyone believe this? The man who was being condemned for one adultery was acquitted by means of many. [10] Every age will bear Clodiuses, not every age Catos. We are prone to what is worse, because neither a leader nor a companion can be lacking, and the thing itself advances even without a leader, without a companion. The path toward vices is not merely downhill but headlong, and—what makes most people beyond correction—in all the other arts faults are a source of shame to their practitioners and distress the one who has gone astray, but the faults of life are a delight. [11] The helmsman does not rejoice in a capsized ship, the physician does not rejoice in a patient carried out for burial, the orator does not rejoice if through his own fault as advocate the defendant has fallen; but on the contrary, to everyone his own crime is a pleasure: this one delights in the adultery he was incited to by the very difficulty of it; that one delights in his swindle and his theft, and his fault does not displease him until the fault's luck has run out. This comes about through depraved habit. [12] Otherwise—so that you may know that beneath souls drawn off into the worst things there still lies a sense of the good, and that the shameful is not unrecognized but disregarded—all men conceal their sins and, however successfully these have turned out, they enjoy the fruits of them while hiding the deeds themselves. But a good conscience wants to come forward and be seen: wickedness fears the very darkness. [13] So I think it was elegantly said by Epicurus: 'It can fall to the guilty man's lot to be hidden; assurance of being hidden cannot,' or, if you judge that this sense can be better unfolded in this way: 'The reason it is no advantage to wrongdoers to be hidden is that, even if they have the luck of hiding, they do not have the confidence of it.' So it is: crimes can be safe, <they cannot be free from anxiety>. [14] I do not judge this to conflict with our school's teaching, if it is explained in this way. Why? Because the first and greatest penalty of those who sin is to have sinned, and no crime—though Fortune adorn it with her gifts, though she protect and defend it—goes unpunished, since the punishment of the crime lies within the crime. But none the less those second penalties press hard upon it and follow after: to be always afraid, to be terrified, to distrust one's own security. Why, then, should I free wickedness from this punishment? Why should I not always leave it hanging in suspense? [15] Let us part ways with Epicurus where he says that nothing is just by nature and that crimes are to be avoided because fear cannot be avoided; let us agree with him here, that evil deeds are scourged by conscience, and that the greatest part of its torments comes from this, that unceasing anxiety drives and lashes it, that it cannot trust the guarantors of its own security. For this very thing, Epicurus, is the proof that by nature we shrink from crime: that there is no one who does not feel fear even amid safety. [16] Fortune frees many men from punishment, no man from fear. Why is this, except that an aversion to that which nature has condemned is fixed within us? For this reason assurance of being hidden never comes even to those who are hidden, because their conscience convicts them and shows them to themselves. It is the property of the guilty to tremble. It would have gone badly for us—since many crimes escape the law and its avenger and the written punishments—had not those natural and heavy penalties exacted payment on the spot, and had not fear stepped in to take the place of suffering. Farewell.

You are mistaken, my dear Lucilius, if you think that luxury, neglect of good manners, and other vices of which each man accuses the age in which he lives, are especially characteristic of our own epoch; no, they are the vices of mankind and not of the times. No era in history has ever been free from blame. Moreover, if you once begin to take account of the irregularities belonging to any particular era, you will find—to man’s shame be it spoken—that sin never stalked abroad more openly than in Cato’s very presence. Would anyone believe that money changed hands in the trial when Clodius was defendant on the charge of secret adultery with Caesar’s wife, when he violated the ritual of that sacrifice which is said to be offered on behalf of the people when all males are so rigorously removed outside the precinct, that even pictures of all male creatures are covered up? And yet, money was given to the jury, and, baser even than such a bargain, sexual crimes were demanded of married women and noble youths as a sort of additional contribution. The charge involved less sin than the acquittal; for the defendant on a charge of adultery parcelled out the adulteries, and was not sure of his own safety until he had made the jury criminals like himself. All this was done at the trial in which Cato gave evidence, although that was his sole part therein. I shall quote Cicero’s actual words, because the facts are so bad as to pass belief: “He made assignations, promises, pleas, and gifts. And more than this (merciful Heavens, what an abandoned state of affairs!) upon several of the jury, to round out their reward, he even bestowed the enjoyment of certain women and meetings with noble youths.” It is superfluous to be shocked at the bribe; the additions to the bribe were worse. “Will you have the wife of that prig, A.? Very good. Or of B., the millionaire? I will guarantee that you shall lie with her. If you fail to commit adultery, condemn Clodius. That beauty whom you desire shall visit you. I assure you a night in that woman’s company without delay; my promise shall be carried out faithfully within the legal time of postponement.” It means more to parcel out such crimes than to commit them; it means blackmailing dignified matrons. These jurymen in the Clodius trial had asked the Senate for a guard—a favour which would have been necessary only for a jury about to convict the accused; and their request had been granted. Hence the witty remark of Catulus after the defendant had been acquitted: “Why did you ask us for the guard? Were you afraid of having your money stolen from you?” And yet, amid jests like these he got off unpunished who before the trial was an adulterer, during the trial a pander, and who escaped conviction more vilely than he deserved it. Do you believe that anything could be more disgraceful than such moral standards—when lust could not keep its hands either from religious worship or from the courts of law, when, in the very inquiry which was held in special session by order of the Senate, more crime was committed than investigated? The question at issue was whether one could be safe after committing adultery; it was shown that one could not be safe without committing adultery! All this bargaining took place in the presence of Pompey and Caesar, of Cicero and Cato,—yes, that very Cato whose presence, it is said, caused the people to refrain from demanding the usual quips and cranks of naked actresses at the Floralia,—if you can believe that men were stricter in their conduct at a festival than in a court-room! Such things will be done in the future, as they have been done in the past; and the licentiousness of cities will sometimes abate through discipline and fear, never of itself. Therefore, you need not believe that it is we who have yielded most to lust and least to law. For the young men of to-day live far more simple lives than those of an epoch when a defendant would plead not guilty to an adultery charge before his judges, and his judges admit it before the defendant, when debauchery was practised to secure a verdict, and when Clodius, befriended by the very vices of which he was guilty, played the procurer during the actual hearing of the case. Could one believe this? He to whom one adultery brought condemnation was acquitted because of many. All ages will produce men like Clodius, but not all ages men like Cato. We degenerate easily, because we lack neither guides nor associates in our wickedness, and the wickedness goes on of itself, even without guides or associates. The road to vice is not only downhill, but steep; and many men are rendered incorrigible by the fact that, while in all other crafts errors bring shame to good craftsmen and cause vexation to those who go astray, the errors of life are a positive source of pleasure. The pilot is not glad when his ship is thrown on her beam-ends; the physician is not glad when he buries his patient; the orator is not glad when the defendant loses a case through the fault of his advocate; but on the other hand every man enjoys his own crimes. A. delights in an intrigue—for it was the very difficulty which attracted him thereto. B. delights in forgery and theft, and is only displeased with his sin when his sin has failed to hit the mark. And all this is the result of perverted habits. Conversely, however, in order that you may know that there is an idea of good conduct present subconsciously in souls which have been led even into the most depraved ways, and that men are not ignorant of what evil is but indifferent—I say that all men hide their sins, and, even though the issue be successful, enjoy the results while concealing the sins themselves. A good conscience, however, wishes to come forth and be seen of men; wickedness fears the very shadows. Hence I hold Epicurus’s saying to be most apt: “That the guilty may haply remain hidden is possible, that he should be sure of remaining hidden is not possible,” or, if you think that the meaning can be made more clear in this way: “The reason that it is no advantage to wrong-doers to remain hidden is that even though they have the good fortune they have not the assurance of remaining so.” This is what I mean: crimes can be well guarded; free from anxiety they cannot be. This view, I maintain, is not at variance with the principles of our school, if it be so explained. And why? Because the first and worst penalty for sin is to have committed sin; and crime, though Fortune deck it out with her favours, though she protect and take it in her charge, can never go unpunished; since the punishment of crime lies in the crime itself. But none the less do these second penalties press close upon the heels of the first—constant fear, constant terror, and distrust in one’s own security. Why, then, should I set wickedness free from such a punishment? Why should I not always leave it trembling in the balance? Let us disagree with Epicurus on the one point, when he declares that there is no natural justice, and that crime should be avoided because one cannot escape the fear which results therefrom; let us agree with him on the other—that bad deeds are lashed by the whip of conscience, and that conscience is tortured to the greatest degree because unending anxiety drives and whips it on, and it cannot rely upon the guarantors of its own peace of mind. For this, Epicurus, is the very proof that we are by nature reluctant to commit crime, because even in circumstances of safety there is no one who does not feel fear. Good luck frees many men from punishment, but no man from fear. And why should this be if it were not that we have ingrained in us a loathing for that which Nature has condemned? Hence even men who hide their sins can never count upon remaining hidden; for their conscience convicts them and reveals them to themselves. But it is the property of guilt to be in fear. It had gone ill with us, owing to the many crimes which escape the vengeance of the law and the prescribed punishments, were it not that those grievous offences against nature must pay the penalty in ready money, and that in place of suffering the punishment comes fear. Farewell.

[1] Erras, mi Lucili, si existimas nostri saeculi esse vitium luxuriam et neglegentiam boni moris et alia quae obiecit suis quisque temporibus: hominum sunt ista, non temporum. Nulla aetas vacavit a culpa; et si aestimare licentiam cuiusque saeculi incipias, pudet dicere, numquam apertius quam coram Catone peccatum est. [2] Credat aliquis pecuniam esse versatam in eo iudicio in quo reus erat P. Clodius ob id adulterium quod cum Caesaris uxore in operto commiserat, violatis religionibus eius sacrificii quod 'pro populo' fieri dicitur, sic summotis extra consaeptum omnibus viris ut picturae quoque masculorum animalium contegantur? Atqui dati iudicibus nummi sunt et, quod hac etiamnunc pactione turpius est, stupra insuper matronarum et adulescentulorum nobilium stilari loco exacta sunt. [3] Minus crimine quam absolutione peccatum est: adulterii reus adulteria divisit nec ante fuit de salute securus quam similes sui iudices suos reddidit. Haec in eo iudicio facta sunt in quo, si nihil aliud, Cato testimonium dixerat. Ipsa ponam verba Ciceronis, quia res fidem excedit. [Ciceronis epistvlarum ad Atticum liber primus] [4] 'Accersivit ad se, promisit, intercessit, dedit. Iam vero (o di boni, rem perditam!) etiam noctes certarum mulierum atque adulescentulorum nobilium introductiones nonnullis iudicibus pro mercedis cumulo fuerunt.' [5] Non vacat de pretio queri, plus in accessionibus fuit. 'Vis severi illius uxorem? dabo illam. Vis divitis huius? tibi praestabo concubitum. Adulterium nisi feceris, damna. Illa formonsa quam desideras veniet. Illius tibi noctem promitto nec differo; intra comperendinationem fides promissi mei extabit.' Plus est distribuere adulteria quam facere; hoc vero matribus familiae denuntiare est. [6] Hi iudices Clodiani a senatu petierant praesidium, quod non erat nisi damnaturis necessarium, et inpetraverant; itaque eleganter illis Catulus absoluto reo 'quid vos' inquit 'praesidium a nobis petebatis? an ne nummi vobis eriperentur?' Inter hos tamen iocos inpune tulit ante iudicium adulter, in iudicio leno, qui damnationem peius effugit quam meruit. [7] Quicquam fuisse corruptius illis moribus credis quibus libido non sacris inhiberi, non iudicis poterat, quibus in ea ipsa quaestione quae extra ordinem senatusconsulto exercebatur plus quam quaerebatur admissum est? Quaerebatur an post adulterium aliquis posset tutus esse: apparuit sine adulterio tutum esse non posse. [8] Hoc inter Pompeium et Caesarem, inter Ciceronem Catonemque commissum est, Catonem inquam illum quo sedente populus negatur permisisse sibi postulare Florales iocos nudandarum meretricum, si credis spectasse tunc severius homines quam iudicasse. Et fient et facta sunt ista, et licentia urbium aliquando disciplina metuque, numquam sponte considet. [9] Non est itaque quod credas nos plurimum libidini permisisse, legibus minimum; longe enim frugalior haec iuventus est quam illa, cum reus adulterium apud iudices negaret, iudices apud reum confiterentur, cum stuprum committeretur rei iudicandae causa, cum Clodius, isdem vitiis gratiosus quibus nocens, conciliaturas exerceret in ipsa causae dictione. Credat hoc quisquam? qui damnabatur uno adulterio absolutus est multis. [10] Omne tempus Clodios, non omne Catones feret. Ad deteriora faciles sumus, quia nec dux potest nec comes deesse, et res ipsa etiam sine duce, sine comite procedit. Non pronum est tantum ad vitia sed praeceps, et, quod plerosque inemendabiles facit, omnium aliarum artium peccata artificibus pudori sunt offenduntque deerrantem, vitae peccata delectant. [11] Non gaudet navigio gubernator everso, non gaudet aegro medicus elato, non gaudet orator si patroni culpa reus cecidit, at contra omnibus crimen suum voluptati est: laetatur ille adulterio in quod inritatus est ipsa difficultate; laetatur ille circumscriptione furtoque, nec ante illi culpa quam culpae fortuna displicuit. Id prava consuetudine evenit. [12] Alioquin, ut scias subesse animis etiam in pessima abductis boni sensum nec ignorari turpe sed neglegi, omnes peccata dissimulant et, quamvis feliciter cesserint, fructu illorum utuntur, ipsa subducunt. At bona conscientia prodire vult et conspici: ipsas nequitia tenebras timet. [13] Eleganter itaque ab Epicuro dictum puto: 'potest nocenti contingere ut lateat, latendi fides non potest', aut si hoc modo melius hunc explicari posse iudicas sensum: 'ideo non prodest latere peccantibus quia latendi etiam si felicitatem habent, fiduciam non habent'. Ita est, tuta scelera esse possunt, <secura esse non possunt>. [14] Hoc ego repugnare sectae nostrae si sic expediatur non iudico. Quare? quia prima illa et maxima peccantium est poena peccasse, nec ullum scelus, licet illud fortuna exornet muneribus suis, licet tueatur ac vindicet, inpunitum est, quoniam sceleris in scelere supplicium est. Sed nihilominus et hae illam secundae poenae premunt ac sequuntur, timere semper et expavescere et securitati diffidere. Quare ego hoc supplicio nequitiam liberem? quare non semper illam in suspenso relinquam? [15] Illic dissentiamus cum Epicuro ubi dicit nihil iustum esse natura et crimina vitanda esse quia vitari metus non posse: hic consentiamus, mala facinora conscientia flagellari et plurimum illi tormentorum esse eo quod perpetua illam sollicitudo urget ac verberat, quod sponsoribus securitatis suae non potest credere. Hoc enim ipsum argumentum est, Epicure, natura nos a scelere abhorrere, quod nulli non etiam inter tuta timor est. [16] Multos fortuna liberat poena, metu neminem. Quare nisi quia infixa nobis eius rei aversatio est quam natura damnavit? Ideo numquam fides latendi fit etiam latentibus quia coarguit illos conscientia et ipsos sibi ostendit. Proprium autem est nocentium trepidare. Male de nobis actum erat, quod multa scelera legem et vindicem effugiunt et scripta supplicia, nisi illa naturalia et gravia de praesentibus solverent et in locum patientiae timor cederet. Vale.