From Seneca
He uses the example of Caesar Augustus
(63 bce–14 ce), who brought a generation of
civil war to an end and ruled Rome’s empire
as its first autocrat for the last forty- five
years of his life. Early in his reign, when
some thought the idea of one- man rule a re-
pugnant novelty, he was repeatedly the tar-
get of would-be assassins, whom he pun-
ished when their plans were detected: here
Seneca tells the story of the last such at-
tempt on his life, and of the mercy that he
showed the culprit, very much to his own
advantage.
9 (2) [Augustus] received evidence that
Lucius Cinna, a man of no great intelli-
gence, was plotting against him: the
where, the when, and the how of the at-
tack were spelled out by one of the con-
spirators. (3) He de cided to take ven-
geance on Cinna … then spent an
uneasy night reflecting on the fact that he
had to condemn a young man of notable
family who was thoroughly decent, save
for this one incident, and a grand son of
Gnaeus Pompey
… (4) With a groan he
began to muse out loud, his words in con-
flict with themselves: “What am I to do,
then? Am I to let my assassin stroll about
without a care while I am wracked by
anxiety? Will he not be punished, when
he has undertaken not just to kill me but
to offer me up as a blood sacrifice” (for
Cinna had de cided to assail Augustus
when he was sacrificing) “ after I’ve sur-
vived attacks in so many civil wars … ?”
(5) But then again, after falling silent, he
began to speak much more loudly and in
anger, more at himself than at Cinna:
“Why live, if so many have an interest in
your dying? What end will there be to
punishment and to bloodshed? … Life is
not worth so great a price, if so much
destruction is required to prevent my
own destruction.”
(6) At last his wife, Livia, interrupted
him and said: “ Will you take a woman’s
advice? Do what doctors do when the
usual prescriptions have no effect: try the
opposite remedies. Strictness has gotten
you nowhere … [she then reels off a
string of earlier attempts]. Now try and
see how far mercy gets you: let Lucius
Cinna go. He’s been caught and now can
do you no harm, though he can do your
reputation some good.”
(7) Delighted to have found a counselor,
Augustus thanked his wife heartily … and
summoned Cinna all by himself. Dis-
missing every one else from his chamber
and ordering that another chair be pro-
vided for Cinna, he said: … (8) “Cinna,
though I found you in the camp of my
foes, an enemy born, not made, I let you
live and keep your family estate. Today
you are so prosperous and wealthy that
the victors envy the vanquished. I
passed over many whose fathers fought
by my side to give you the priesthood
you sought. But though I deserved your
gratitude, you undertook to kill me,”
(9) … and he specified the place, his co-conspirators,
the arrangement of the am-
bush, and the person entrusted with the
weapon. (10) And when he saw that
Cinna was thunderstruck and silent …
from full awareness of what he’d done,
Augustus said: “What’s your aim in doing
this? Do you mean to be prince yourself?
My God, the Roman people really are in
a bad way if I’m the only thing standing
between you and supreme authority! …
Really, nothing could be easier, you
suppose, than to raise a hue and cry against
Caesar! Look: if I’m the only obstacle to
your hopes, will Paulus and Fabius Maxi-
mus and men like Cossus and Servilius10
put up with you— yes, and the whole great
troop of notable men, not the ones who
offer nothing but a name, but those who
bring honor to their ancestors?”
(11) Not to … repeat every thing he
said (for it’s well known that he [scolded
Cinna] for more than two hours, drawing
out in this way the sole punishment with
which he was going to rest content):
“I give you your life, Cinna,” Augustus
said, “for the second time, formerly as my
enemy under arms, now as a conspirator
and parricide From this day let our
friendship commence, and let us compete
to see who acts in better faith— I as your
savior, or you as my debtor.” (12) After
this … he had Cinna as his dearest and
most loyal friend… . Augustus was never
again the object of a conspiracy. (On
Mercy 1.9.2–12)