On Salaried Posts in Great Houses (19-20)

So goes, then, my friend, that first and sweetest of dinners, which to me at least is no sweeter than thyme and white salt eaten in freedom, when I like and as much as I like.

To spare you the tale of the flatulency that follows and the sickness during the night, early in the morning you two will be obliged to come to terms with one another about your stipend, how much you are to receive and at what time of year. So with two or three of his friends present, he summons you, bids you to be seated, and opens the conversation: ‘ You have already seen what our establishment is like, and that there is not a bit of pomp and circumstance in it, but everything is unostentatious, prosaic, and ordiriary. You must feel that we shall have everything in

common; for it would be ridiculous if I trusted you with what is most important, my own soul or that of my children”—suppose he has children who need instruction—‘“and did not consider you equally free to command everything else. But there should be some stipulation. I recognise, to be sure, that you are temperate and independent by nature, and am aware that you did not join our household through hope of pay but on account of the other things, the friendliness that we shall show you and the esteem which you will have from everyone. Nevertheless, let there be some stipulation. Say yourself what you wish, bearing in mind, my dear fellow, what we shall probably give you on the annual feast-days. We shall not forget such matters, either, even though we do not now reckon them in, and there are many such occasions in the year, as you know. So, if you take all that into consideration, you will of course charge us with a more moderate stipend. Besides, it would well become you men of education to be superior to money.”

By saying this and putting you all in a flutter with expectations, he has made you submissive to him. You formerly dreamed of thousands and millions and whole farms and tenements, and you are somewhat conscious of his meanness; nevertheless, you welcome his promise with dog-like joy, and think his “We shall have everything in common”’ reliable and truthful, not knowing that this sort of thing

“Wetteth the lips, to be sure, but the palate it leaveth unwetted.

Iliad22, 495. In the end, out of modesty, you leave it to him. He himself refuses to say, but tells one of the friends who are present to intervene in the business and name a sum that would be neither burdensome to him, with many other expenses more urgent than this, nor paltry to the recipient. The friend, a sprightly old man, habituated to flattery from his boyhood, says: ‘* You cannot say, sir, that you are not the luckiest man in the whole city. In the first place you have been accorded a privilege which many who covet it greatly would hardly be able to obtain from Fortune; I mean in being honoured with his company, sharing his hospitality, and being received into the first household in the Roman Empire. This is better.than the talents of Croesus and the wealth of Midas, if you know how to be temperate. Perceiving that many distinguished men, even if they had to pay for it, would like, simply for the name of the thing, to associate with this gentleman and be seen about* him in the guise of companions and friends, I cannot sufficiently congratulate you on your good luck, since you are actually to receive pay for such felicity. I think, then, that unless you are very prodigal, about so and so much is enough”—and he names a very scanty sum, in striking contrast to those expectations of yours.