How brutally he could behave, and how little respect he inspired, we may see in the following anecdote.  When Plautius Lateranus, the brave nobleman whose execution during Piso’s conspiracy we have already related, had received on his neck an ineffectual blow of the tribune’s sword, Epaphroditus, even at that dread moment, could not abstain from pressing him with questions.  The only reply which he received from the dying man was the contemptuous remark, “Should I wish to say anything, I will say it (not to a slave like you, but) to your master.”

Under a man of this calibre it is hardly likely that a lame Phrygian boy would experience much kindness.  An anecdote, indeed, has been handed down to us by several writers, which would show that he was treated with atrocious cruelty.  Epaphroditus, it is said, once gratified his cruelty by twisting his slave’s leg in some instrument of torture.  “If you go on, you will break it,” said Epictetus.  The wretch did go on, and did break it.  “I told you that you would break it,” said Epictetus quietly, not giving vent to his anguish by a single word or a single groan.  Stories of heroism no less triumphant have been authenticated both in ancient and modern times; but we may hope for the sake of human nature that this story is false, since another authority tells us that Epictetus became lame in consequence of a natural disease.  Be that however as it may, some of the early writers against Christianity—­such, for instance, as the physician Celsus—­were fond of adducing this anecdote in proof of a magnanimity which not even Christianity could surpass; to which use of the anecdote Origen opposed the awful silence of our Saviour upon the cross, and Gregory of Nazianzen pointed out that, though it was a noble thing to endure inevitable evils, it was yet more noble to undergo them voluntarily with an equal fortitude.  But even if Epaphroditus were not guilty of breaking the leg of Epictetus, it is clear that the life of the poor youth was surrounded by circumstances of the most depressing and miserable character; circumstances which would have forced an ordinary man to the low and animal level of existence which appears to have contented the great majority of Roman slaves.  Some of the passages in which he speaks about the consideration due to this unhappy class show a very tender feeling towards them.  “It would be best,” he says, “if, both while making your preparations and while feasting at your banquets, you distribute among the attendants some of the provisions.  But if such a plan, at any particular time, be difficult to carry out, remember that you who are not fatigued are being waited upon by those who are fatigued; you who are eating and drinking by those who are not eating and drinking; you who are conversing by those who are mute—­you who are at your ease by people under painful constraint.  And thus you will neither yourself be kindled into unseemly passion, nor will you in a fit of fury do harm to any one else.”