“Are they slaves?” eloquently demands Seneca. “Nay, they are men. Are they slaves? Nay, they live under the same roof (_contubernales_). Are they slaves? Nay, they are humble friends. Are they slaves? Nay, they are fellow-servants (_conservi_), if you will consider that both master and servant are equally the creatures of chance. I smile, then, at the prevalent opinion which thinks it a disgrace for one to sit down to a meal with his servant. Why is it thought a disgrace, but because arrogant _Custom_ allows a master a crowd of servants to stand round him while he is feasting?”
He expressly denounces their cruel and contemptuous treatment, and demands in noble language (afterwards used by Epictetus, himself a slave):--
“Would you suppose that he whom you call a slave has the same origin and birth as yourself? has the same free air of heaven with yourself? that he breathes, lives, and dies like yourself?”
He denounces the haughty and insulting attitude of masters towards their helpless dependants, and lays down the precept: “So live with your dependant as you would wish your superior to live with you.” He laments the use of the term “slaves,” or “servants” (_servi_), in place of the old “domestics” (_familiares_). He declaims against the common prejudice which judges by the _outward_ appearance:--
“That man,” he asserts, “is of the stupidest sort who values another either by his dress or by his condition.” Is he a slave? He is, it may be, _free in mind_. He is the _true_ slave who is a slave to cruelty, to ambition, to avarice, to pleasure. “Love,” he declares, insisting upon humanity, “cannot co-exist with fear.”--(_Ep._ xlviii.)
He is equally clear upon the ferocity and barbarity of the gladiatorial and other shows of the _Circus_, which were looked upon by his contemporaries as not only interesting spectacles, but as a useful school for war and endurance--much for the same reason as that on which the “sports” of the present day are defended. Cicero uses this argument, and only expresses the general sentiment. Not so Seneca. He speaks of a chance visit to the Circus (the gigantic Colosseum was not yet built), for the sake of mental relaxation, expecting to see, at the period of the day he had chosen, only innocent exercises. He indignantly narrates the horrid and bloody scenes of suffering, and demands, with only too much reason, whether it is not evident that such evil examples receive their righteous retribution in the deterioration of character of those who encourage them:--