De ratiimalihus et secretariis diuitum, et quod
The Illusion of Wealth and Familiarity
The pursuit of favor through the management of a wealthy man's affairs is a dangerous and ultimately hollow endeavor.
Friendship exists only among the good, and a rich man is more likely to treat you as a familiar than as a friend; and while the familiarity of the wealthy may seem useful, it is often dangerous, and one must live innocently. But if you intend to get ahead in the favor of the person you're courting—not just by making promises, but by offering small gifts—you should involve yourself in their accounts and be frugal with expenses, because someone who is privy to the secrets of a man who guards his own purse cannot help but please a diligent head of a household. The vices of a man who offsets his moral deformity with the frugality of his spending are welcome. As Cicero says—in case you didn't know—the best revenue is thrift. A frugal person of modest means is easily satisfied, while a wealthy spendthrift is just as easily drained. Even the most capacious chest has a bottom, and any amount of accumulated water will drain away through a small opening; the abundance of the fountain is lost once the fertility of the gushing spring is cut off. A jar usually pours out its contents through a narrow opening. In this way, vast fortunes are exhausted by small but frequent and continuous expenses, and a great inheritance is plundered by the steady subtraction of small amounts—unless, perhaps, the spendthrift finds a way to make the money grow back. Luxury wastes wealth, and unhappy poverty always follows in its footsteps. Therefore, you must be sparing with things necessary for daily use, and you must add to any amount that is being steadily depleted by constant spending. And even if small portions of your inheritance slip away through use, a diligent head of a household is pleased if they are at least tracked by careful accounting; for what slips away unnoticed is lost twice over. Furthermore: the scent of profit is good, no matter where it comes from. Keep that sentiment always on your lips—a sentiment worthy of the gods and of the poet himself: 'No one asks where it comes from, but you must have it!' To be involved in these things is to bind a rich man with the cords of a tighter grace, even if he outdoes the slippery Proteus in the versatility of his wit. Or, if the grace of truth is lacking, then the display of a deeper familiarity is what stands. However, even if you can't achieve both—the sharing of private matters and the caution of careful accounting—insert yourself into their secrets by any art you can.
The Folly of Secret-Keeping
True friendship cannot exist among the wicked, and the desire to possess the secrets of the powerful leads only to spiritual and moral ruin.
Don't you realize that those who set out to command emperors themselves want to know the secrets of the household, and to be feared for that very reason? The more carefully things are hidden, the more diligently they must be searched out; certainly, anyone who can accuse Verres whenever they choose will be dear to Verres. Whether charity or friendship can exist among the wicked, however, is a real question. But in the end, it has been decided that it cannot exist except among the good. There is certainly great agreement among the soft and the wicked, but it is as far removed from charity as light is from darkness. And although the wicked may sometimes want or not want the same things as the good, they still don't earn the title of friendship. Hence it pleased Crispus, the most powerful of the Latin historians, and even Cicero himself, that what is true friendship among good men is merely a faction among the wicked. But although a man, hindered by his own vicious malice, cannot be a friend, he will still be someone to be feared—if not honored—by the one who knows he can strike terror through his knowledge of secrets. It's a well-known saying of the moralist that anyone who has made you a partner in an honest secret thinks he owes you nothing and will never do anything for you. It has also long been a matter of doubt whether it's possible for the rich and powerful to love anyone. In the end, it's generally accepted that they never love, or do so only rarely—especially in matters where they seem to love themselves more than others. After all, opposites cannot exist in the same person, and the more wealth and greed someone has, the less charity they possess; indeed, true friendship and these things are diametrically opposed. Furthermore, as someone once said, "Every rich man is either a wicked man or the heir of one," and it's very rare for wealth not to slip away unless it's held together by the glue of love and greed. The vigilance and labor of a desiring soul acquire these things, but a more painful anxiety retains and preserves them. The moralist says, "It is no less a virtue to protect what you have gained than to seek it; the former involves chance, while the latter is a work of skill." Since, therefore, the one is called skill and the other chance, who can keep them for long without intense application of the mind? It's certainly an old proverb that where there is love, there is the eye; and where the mind's intention is watchful, there the heart's position is fixed. So, even though wealth often flows in against a person's will and resistance, a faithful philosopher forbids setting one's heart on it, and the teacher of the Gentiles says that those who desire to become rich fall into the devil's snare. And He who is greater than both—the firstborn of the dead and the ruler of the kings of the earth—asserts that it's impossible to serve God and Mammon at the same time. For accumulated money either commands or serves everyone; but it never, or rarely, serves the rich man. It's clear from this that the rich are more often wicked than the heirs of the wicked. How, then, can charity reign where iniquity dominates? It certainly knows how to be familiar with the rich, but it is a friend to them never, or only rarely. Yet this discussion isn't about the one who has riches, but about the one who loves them. It's evident from these things that, however much favor may seem to come from the familiarity of a powerful person, it demands diligent caution from those who are subject to them. Eventually, all its allure will have more aloe than honey in the end.
The Inevitable Exposure of Secrets
The secrets of the powerful are never truly hidden, and those who act as their confidants are inevitably tainted by the gossip and scandals of the household.
Still, it's extremely helpful for success to be aware of secrets. Why wouldn't it be? Reverence grows, authority strengthens, troubles are warded off, benefits arise, the number of friends increases, devotion is added to those who cultivate them, and fortune seems to breathe the air of all her grace and happiness upon the blessed. However, the end result of all these things is more bitter than wormwood, and even if they don't turn bitter in the meantime, they carry a justified suspicion of bitterness. It is, in fact, dangerous to share in the secrets of the rich or the powerful. For if something accidentally slips out from them, who will it be blamed on if not the one who was in on the secret? Whatever the valets, hair-curlers, mimes, or any of the riffraff—whose delicate senses or madness the rich man cannot do without—have spread in a brothel or tavern, or have divulged among the people to sell themselves on the familiarity of the powerful, is twisted back into slander against the one who seemed to hold some place in the councils. If you want to know how things are moving in advance, examine the merits and inquire into the opinions of the camp followers. Nothing is so hidden that it won't, in some way, be revealed to them. If you don't believe me, listen to our friend from Aquino. He says: 'Corydon, Corydon, do you really think a rich man has any secrets?' Even if the servants stay quiet, the pack animals will speak, and the dogs, the doorposts, and the marble walls; close the windows, let curtains cover the cracks, let them cry out: 'Let no one rest nearby!'—yet what he does at the second cockcrow, the innkeeper next door will know before daybreak. I'll continue. If someone buries a secret in the earth, a reed growing up will bring it into the open and, with a light breeze, carry it into the air, because Midas has the ears of an ass. Pallas, too, could not hide her Erichthonius, for her own chatter made him known to the comic poets; and so, because she was the one who brought in a stranger and was privy to the secret, she lost the beauty of her complexion and incurred the mark of a gossip. Furthermore, the secretaries of the wealthy are like pack horses or beasts of burden; they are the ones who get saddled with their masters' faults.
The Scapegoat of the Powerful
The powerful will readily sacrifice their associates to protect their own reputations, making the preservation of one's own innocence the only true safety.
Whatever they do wrong is blamed on their associates, unless perhaps the opinion of the powerful person is such that no advice could possibly corrupt them. For if their malice is notorious, and their reputation for fraud and deceit is common knowledge, the reputation of the entire household is cleared, just as if a headache in the head were to darken the pain in the sides of those who are ill. Otherwise, if the powerful person is thought to be kinder or more civilized, the household carries all their madness on their own shoulders like pack animals, but nothing of what is done right is credited to anything but the kindness or civility of the powerful person. And if a more serious problem arises, the powerful person will give your soul for their own reputation, just as skin for skin, and to turn their own guilt back onto you, they won't hesitate to burden your head with the merits of their crimes and punishments. But what is more remarkable, they will be glad if their cunning rewards your hard work and anxiety by making you infamous, and if they have made or imagined you to be guilty of unheard-of crimes. For there is no evil in the city that is not blamed on the powerful person’s advisors, since it is a hollow excuse, given that the powerful person shapes every office to their own will, and no wise person wavers for long at the advice of the imprudent; for they discern and judge everything. Do you think someone whose shame you can bring to light and make public is resting securely in their own conscience? Certainly, everyone who is evil hates the light, and every work seems to bear the image of its maker. Because the makeup of harlots fears to be exposed by the light, it seeks the shadows, and it fears that they might appear more deformed than they are if they were laid bare to the gaze of those who see by direct light. This, then, is what their whole vigilance seeks: that eyes blinded by prejudice might see what isn't in them, and that those who do see might become blind; but in those who trust in their natural color, it is far otherwise, because this kind loves the dark, and it wants to be seen under the light, for it does not fear the sharp judgment of the judge. Although sharing secrets may seem to add to happiness, it nevertheless takes a great deal away from security. It is difficult, or rather impossible, to pass through those who have descended to the underworld by this path, or who have groaned to find themselves afflicted by final punishments. "Woe to me, why did I see, why did I create harmful lights?" says the one who is uncertain whether he has earned his exile through the guilt of another's conscience or his own work. It is certain, however, that it isn't profitable to know the evils of others. Nevertheless, whether they are known or not, there is nothing safer than to preserve one's own innocence. The philosopher thought that one should live among enemies as if among friends, and among friends as if living in the midst of enemies; and the satirist says: "One must live rightly, not only for many reasons, but especially for these causes, so that you may despise the tongues of servants, for the tongue is the worst part of a bad servant." But you must follow the satirist's advice, not only because of the tongues of servants, but also because of the swords and poisons of the powerful and the traps set by everyone.
Read the original Latin
amicitia non nisi in bonis est, et quod diues familiarem potius exprimat quam amicum; et, licet familiaritas diuitum utilis uideatur, saepe periculosa est, et quod innocenter uiuendum est. Sed si non modo promissores sed munuscularios in gratia illius quem captas antecedere pergis, te ratiociniis eius immisceas, parcas sumptibus, eo quod secretorum conscius, qui loculis parcit, diligenti patrifamilias displicere non potest. Grata sunt uitia eius qui deformitatem morum sumptuum parcitate compensat. Optimum, ut ait Cicero, si nescis, uectigal parsimonia est. Tenuis parcus impletur facile, et facillime exinanitur prodigus diues. Arca sane capacissima fundum habet, et breui exitu congestarum aquarum quantalibet copia defluit, fontisque abundantia tollitur scaturientis uenae fecunditate sublata. Exili plerumque meatu inclusum egerit uma liquorem. Sic minutissimis dum frequentibus et continuis sumptibus amplissimae exhauriuntur opes, et breuium subtractione minutiarum maxima hereditas expilatur; nisi forte prodigus pecuniam inueniat rediuiuam.
Est Luxus populator opum, cui semper adherens infelix humili gressu comitatur Egestas. IUis ergo parcendum est, quorum necessarius imminet usus, et aliquid adiciendum est quantitati, quae iugi partium deductione decrescit. Et licet usu defluant unciolae patrimonii, gratum est diligenti patrifamilias, si uel ratiocinii calculo teneantur, peritque dupliciter quod elabitur nescienti. Ad haec: lucri bonus est odor ex re qualibet. Illa tuo sententia semper in ore uersetur, diis atque ipso loue digna, poeta: Vnde habeat quaerit nemo, sed oportet habere! In his quidem uersari est artioris gratiae funibus uincire diuitem, licet uersibilitate ingenii lubricum Prothea uincat. Aut si ueritatis deficit gratia, uel ulterioris familiaritatis exhibitio constat. Ceterum licet utrumque non possis assequi, et rerum priuatarum participationem et calculi cautiones, te secretis ingere quauis arte.
An nescis quod qui pergunt ipsis imperatoribus imperare scire uolunt secreta domus atque inde timeri? Et quo studiosius occultantur, eo sunt diligentius perscrutanda; nempe carus erit Verri, qui Verrem tempore quo uult accusare potest. Si tamen inter malos caritas aut amicitia esse potest, hoc etenim quaesitum est. Sed tandem placuit eam nisi in bonis esse non posse. Magna utique inter molles et malos concordia sed ea tantum a caritate discedit, quantum lux distat a tenebris. Et licet interdum mali, sicut et boni, idem uelle uel idera nolle possint, amicitiae tamen titulum non assequuntur. Vnde et Crispo, historicorum inter Latinos potissimo, sed et ipsi Ciceroni placuit in malis factionem esse quod in uiris bonis uera amicitia est. Sed a quamuisuitiosus praepediente malitia amicus esse non possit, etsi non uenerabilis, uerendus tamen erit qui conscientia secretorum conscio terrorem potest incutere.
Scitum est iilud ethici, quia nil tibi se debere putat, nil conferet umquam, qui te participem secreti fecit honesti. Hoc quoque iam pridem uenit in dubium, an quemquam diuitum et potentum amare contingat. Tandemque receptum est eosdem numquam amare uel raro,et in eis praecipue causis, in quibus se potius quam alios amare uideantur; contraria siquidem in eodem esse non possunt, et quo diuites plurimum cupiditatis, eo habent minimum caritatis; amicicia uera haec etenim sibi inuicem maxirae aduersantur. Porro ut ait quidam: Omnis diues iniquus est aut iniqui heres; et rarissimum est ut diuitiae non defluant, nisi amoris et cupiditatis glutino solidentur. Eas desiderantis animi uigilantia et labor adquirit sed egrior sollicitudo retinet et conseruat. Inquit ethicus: Non minor est uirtus quam quaerere parta tueri; casus inest illic, hic erit artis opus. Cum ergo istud ars, illud casus nomine censeatur, quis eas sine applicatione mentis intensa diutius seruat? Certe uetus prouerbium est quia ubi amor, ibi oculus; et ubi uigil mentis intentio, ibi fixa cordis positio est.
Vnde licet inuito et repugnanti animo plerumque affluant, cor tamen apponere fidelis philosophus prohibet, et doctor gentium eos, qui diuites fieri cupiunt, in laqueum diaboli dicit incidere. Et qui utroque maior est, primogenitus mortuorum et princeps regum terrae, asserit Deo et Mammonae simul seruiri non posse. Quoniam imperat aut seruit coUecta pecunia cuique; sed diuiti numquam seruit aut raro. Vnde liquet diuites frequentius iniquos esse quam heredes iniquorum. Quomodo ergo regnat caritas, ubi iniquitas dominatur Vtique diufis familiaris esse nouit, amicus numquam aut raro. Hic tamen non de eo qui habet diuitias sermo est, sed qui amat. Ex quibus liquet quia quantacumque ex familiaritate potentioris gratia uideatur, diligentem cautelam exigit subditorum. Aliquin omnis eius illecebra plus aloes quam mellis in exitu habitura est.
At expedit plurimum ad successus esse conscium secretorum. Quidni? Reuerentia crescit, inualescit auctoritas, arcentur incommoda, proueniunt utilitates, amicorum augetur numerus, cultoribus accedit deuotio, et fortuna totius gratiae suae et felicitatis auram uidetur beatulis inspirare. Ceterum istorum omnium nouissima quouis absintio amariora sunt, et si interim non amarescunt, iustam amaritudinis habent suspicionem. Res siquidem periculosa est diuitum aut potentum communicare secretis. Si quid enim eis per incuriam forte elabitur, cui nisi conscio imponetur? Quod cubicularii aut ciniflones mimiue aut quicumque nebulonum, quibus delicatus diuitis a " sensus aut furor carere non potest, in lupanari uel tabema sparserunt aut, ut se uenditarent a familiaritate potentis, diuulgauerunt in populo, in illius calumpniam retorquetur, qui in consiliis aliquem locum uisus est tenuisse. Si motus rerum praescire desideras, meritoria discute, et lixarum castrensium inquire sententias.
Nichil enim adeo occultum est, quod eis ex aliqua parte non reueletur. Si michi non credis, uel Aquinati nostro aures accommoda. Ait enim: Coridon, Coridon, secretum diuitis ullum esse putas? serui ut taceant, iumenta loquentur et canis et postes et marmora; claude fenestras, uela tegant rimas, clament: ' Prope nemo recumbat '; quod tamen ad galli cantum facit ille secundi, proximus ante diem caupo sciet. Procedo. Si terrae secretum suum infodiat, uel arundo succrescens hoc producet in publicum et leui flatu in auras k proferet quoniam auriculas asini Midas habet. Pallas quoque Erictonium suum occultare non potuit, quin ipsum iam cognitum comicis garrulitas publicaret; unde, quia alieni admissi delatrix fuit et conscia, coloris perdidit uenustatem et garrulitatis incurrit notam. Praeterea secretarii diuitum quasi quidam tolutarii uel clitellarii sunt et qui eorum delictis onerentur.
Quicquid ab eis delinquitur, in istorum infamiam cuditur, nisi forte ea sit de potente opinio, ut nuUo possit consilio deprauari. Si enim solennis est malitia eius, si fraudis et doli uulgata opinio, totius familiae fama purgatur, ac si capitis languor infirmantium denigret dolorem laterum. Alioquin, si benignior, si ciuilior creditur potentatus, omnia deliramenta eius familiares quasi clitellarii quibusdam nominis sui humeris portant, sed recte gestorum nil nisi benignitati aut ciuilitati potentis adscribitur. Et, si quandoque calculus grauior imminet, quasi pellem pro pelle animam tuam dabit diues pro fama sua et, ut in te retorqueat culpam suam, caput tuum meritis criminum, penis non uerebitur obiectare. Sed, quod magis mirabile, gratulabitur, si astutia sua industriae tuae labores et soUicitudines hac mercede donauerit, ut te reddat infamem, et fecerit aut finxerit te criminibus inauditis obnoxium. Non est enim malum in ciuitate quod non in diuitis consiliarios impingatur, cum inanis sit excusatio, eo quod omne officium sibi potentatus conformat, nemoque sapiens diu fluctuat consilio imprudentum; omnia namque discemit et iudicat. An eum putas in conscientia sua securam quiescere, cuius turpitudinem producere potes in lucem et proferre in publicum? Certe omnis qui malus est odit lucem, et opus omne artificis sui habere uidetur imaginem.
Meretricantium mulienim fucus dum argui ueretur a lumine, petit umbras, et timet ne seipsis deformiores sint, si immediata luce uidentium obtutibus pateant. Hoc ergo illarum tota uigi- ' lantia quaerit, ut quod non est in eis praestricti oculi uideant, et qui uident ceci fiant, At in his quae natiuo colore confidunt, longe aliter est, quia haec amat obscurum, uolet haec sub luce uideri, iudicis argutum quae non formidat acumen. Licet itaque secretorum communio aliquid felicitatis uideatur adicere, securitati tamen plurimum demit. Difficile aut potius impossibile est illos percurrere, qui hac uia ad inferos descenderunt aut penis nouissimis se ingemuerunt afiectos. Heu michi cur uidi, cur noxia lumina fecil inquit ille, qui an de conscientia alieni an proprii operis noxa deportationem meruerit, incertura est. Certum tamen est quod mala aliena nouisse non expedit. Verumtamen siue sciantur siue non, nichil tutius est quam propriam innocentiam conseruare. Philosophus sic inter hostes uiuendum censuit tamquam inter amicos, et inter amicos ac si in mediis hostibus uiueretur; et satiricus: Viuendum recte cum propter plurima, tunc his praecipue causis, ut linguas mancipiorum contempnas, nam lingua mali pars pessima serui.
Sed non modo propter linguas seruorum, uerum propter gladios et uenena potentum et insidias omnium, praecepto satirici parendum est.
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