"What Power Has Law Where Only Money Rules?"

 

I've mentioned Gaius Petronius Arbiter a/k/a Titus Petronius Niger, author of The Satyricon, Suffect Counsel of Rome, courtier of Nero, on more than one occasion in this blog.  He's mentioned by Tacitus and others, so there's credible evidence he existed.  He appears as a character in the novel Quo Vadis, which formed the basis for a movie of the same name.

He was known as the "arbiter of elegance" in Nero's court and a voluptuary, but also was competent and vigorous in performing his public duties.  He eventually fell afoul of the Emperor, like Seneca, and took his own life in a most remarkable way, slowly bleeding to death by opening his veins but stopping the flow of blood using tourniquets to prolong his life while enjoying conversation and banter with friends and writing a description of Nero's misdeeds which he sealed and had delivered to the Emperor after his death.

I qoute him in the title of this post.  It's a perceptive statement by a fascinating man intimately familiar with the rich and powerful oligarchs of a great empire ruled by a meglomaniac.

The ancient Romans had a high regard for law.  They generated a vast amount of written law through the centuries.  Much of current European law derives from that of Rome.  A knowledge of law was considered essential to a successful career, and many prominent citizens acted as advocates (such as Cicero).

The Roman respect for law wasn't limited to written laws.  Romans also revered the mos maiorum, the unwritten code of the customs and traditions they considered peculiarly Roman, such as duty, respect and discipline, which governed the conduct of their ancestors.

When Petronius wondered whether the law had any power where money ruled (implying that it did not), he was therefore maintaining that money had profoundly corrupted and undermined Roman society; had in fact perverted it.  The power of money had changed what it meant to be Roman.

It's become a cliche that the United States is failing and falling as the Roman Empire did and for similar reasons. Like all clichés, it's too simple, but there are similarities.  The U.S. was founded in large part by lawyers.  The Constitution is a legal document--essentially a set of laws.  The rule of law was essential to its creation and forms the basis for its continuance.

It's rapidly devolving, however, because plutocrats have usurped the administration of the government and have no respect for the law to the extent that it serves to thwart their power and influence and the realization of their desires.

The Supreme Court has assured that the nation's government can be bought by sanctioning its purchase as a Constitutional right, and narrowing the definition of bribery, in effect holding that politicians may be paid in return for their services except in rare circumstances.

So we may well ask Petronius' question now, 2000 years after he posed it, and come to the same conclusion he did.

The King Who Exalts Himself

The king referred to in the title to this post appears in the Book of Daniel.  He's sometimes associated with King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon; sometimes with Antiochus Epiphanes of the Seleucid Empire; sometimes with the Antichrist.  As may be expected, he exalts himself above all others, even the gods, is supremely arrogant and devotes himself to self-glorification.  As may also be expected, he comes to a bad end.

There's something peculiar about a person who, being in a position to do so, names places and things after himself.  Or for that matter refers to himself in the third person.  Or finds ways to glorify himself instead of or in place of others. Or at the expense of others.

 There's something very peculiar about someone who does so when it is normally the case that this is done only after the death of the person whose name is used in recognition of great deeds done while he lived.

No other president has indulged in this kind of self-glorification, and for good reason.  They would have been thought close to mad if they did so.  They would have seemed ridiculous, pitiful, unusually needy, risible.  They would be mocked.

This kind of excessive pride in oneself is particularly unbecoming in someone leading a republic.  It is, instead, characteristic of an autocrat or dictator. So, in modern times, such displays of hubris have been indulged in by the likes of Franco, Mussolini, Hitler, Mao, Stalin, Kim Jong-il, and the Duvaliers.  In antiquity Nero, Caligula and Elagabalus, among others.  Shelley's Ozymandias is an example from poetry.

The person doing this must be terribly insecure, convinced that he won't be remembered or if remembered will inspire laughter and contempt.  He can't expect he'll be honored by the nation, so instead he must honor himself.  One would think those close to him would warn him of how this makes him appear.

The curious thing is he'll be remembered for exalting  himself.  That's what will be considered remarkable about him.  Not in a good way, however.  Self-promotion will be what he's remembered for, to the point of absurdity.

The New Domus Aurea

 

The Emperor Nero may not really have fiddled while Rome burned.  After the great fire which devastated a large portion of the ancient city, however, he took advantage of the devastation to spend enormous sums to build for himself an enormous, extravagant and elaborate palace which came to be called the Domus Aurea, or Golden House.

Perhaps because he wasn't entirely certain the Roman people would know the huge structure was his, he also erected a 120' statute of himself adjacent to this palace.  Portions of this gargantuan edifice have been explored.  They've survived, although Vespasian did his best to bury the Golden House after the Senate and people of Rome finally had enough of the meglomaniac that was responsible for its construction.  In its place he built the Flavian Amphitheater, better known as the Colosseum.  The statue of Nero was transformed into one of the god Sol.

Nero at least didn't himself demolish the buildings he replaced with his monumental house to gratify his ego.  The great fire did that for him.  Now, unfortunately, someone Nero would have recognized as a fellow spirit has torn down part of a building having national significance to satisfy his own self-love by building a very large and unnecessary ballroom.

The ballroom will apparently dwarf the White House itself.  It will be 90,000 square feet; the White House itself is 50,000 square feet.  It will be as large as 1.5 football fields, and will accommodate 999 persons.  Why 999?  This assumes it won't be expanded, though; something almost to be expected.

One wonders what events requiring so much room will take place there.  Inaugural balls, presumably.  When are balls otherwise held?  One seldom hears of balls taking place, outside of Disney films and romantic novels.  If not balls, what?  Proms?  Weddings?  Conventions?

It seems this vast space will decorated in the same gaudy manner as the resorts Nero's fellow spirit has already developed.  Gold, apparently, will be everywhere.  Such an abundance of gold suggests a lack of imagination.  It also suggests a belief that an abundance of gold is necessary to demonstrate wealth and excellence.  Regrettably, that belief has already caused the Oval Office to appear cluttered and tawdry.

What prompts someone to mar nature or dignified historical buildings with such showy self-indulgence?  Some (including this writer) have noted similarities with the wealthy, boorish character of Trimalchio in The Satyricon. He decorated his large villa with frescoes and paintings of events in his life and tokens from his admirers.  He spoke almost exclusively of himself and his properties.

I suspect meglomania can be combined with a terrible kind of insecurity.  The sense of importance and power felt by the meglomaniac is diminished by a nagging fear that he is, in fact, inadequate and looked down upon by others.  And so the meglomaniac is desperate to glorify himself and make a mark on the world, and punish those who won't kowtow to him.

The fact that he is planning to construct a large triumphant arch in the Capitol is most telling.  Those who have done this or had it done for them were great military figures, though.  Does our Ozymandias plan to try and rival them?  Let's hope not.

About the Antichrist

 

The Antichrist is an interesting figure.  It or he is referred in the New Testament of the Bible, but not in the Old Testament.  This shouldn't be surprising as there is no Christ in the Old Testament, though over the years those books of the Bible have been searched for references to Jesus which were duly found, but were less than clear and required inventive explanation.  The same may be said of the Antichrist.

The Antichrist is also mentioned by Paul of Tarsus and several of the Church Fathers, who found it necessary  or useful to describe it or him in more detail than appears in the Bible.  I don't know if the Antichrist is referred to in the many gospels which were excluded from the Bible, some of which refer to Jesus using his divine powers to kill those who annoy him and decribe him as quite different from the Jesus we know through those authors known as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

As only makes sense, the Antichrist denies Christ, and works to induce others to do so as well.  It's unclear whether the Antichrist is to be a single individual or if there's to be more than one.  Many have been called the Antichrist over the centuries.  Nero was one of those named. So we're various Popes or the very office of the Papacy (by Protestants).  Mohammed was called the Antichrist, and so were some heretics like Arian.

Some have claimed the Antichrist is among those false prophets and wonder-workers we were warned of in Scripture. There were quite a few of those wandering around the Mediterranean while Jesus is claimed to have lived, like Simon Magus and Appollonius of Tyana. Appollonius' story is similar to that of Jesus in many respects--each performed the same kind of miracles, for example, like raising the dead.

The Antichrist is described as having various characteristics, some of which have a certain, or in some cases uncertain, basis in Scripture.  Others have been added over time.  Among other things the Antichrist is charismatic, a deceiver, considers himself divine, is worshipped as a god, controls the economy, and rules the world from Jerusalem of all places.  Various figures have been thought to to qualify over the centuries given this description; some are considered the Antichrist even now (I need not name them). But after a relatively short period of time the Antichrist is destroyed by Jesus.

Among the problems I have with the Antichrist is the fact that his death and defeat is inevitable according to all sources.  It may be that the Antichrist's followers would be stupid or ignorant enough to disregard the many prophecies of their leader's ruin, but presumably, the Antichrist would be aware of these sources, and know his fate.  Who or what would want to be the Antichrist given the destruction which awaits?

Difficulties arise when we believe that accounts which were intended to address contemporary or imminent events apply thousands of years later. So the end times, preceding the Second Coming of Jesus, which he himself said would take place in the lifetimes of his disciples according to the Gospel of Matthew, are still awaited by the credulous, although believers predicted they would take place many times already and have been disappointed as many times in the past.

So it should be no great surprise that we're so gullible, so easily misled, so completely bovine when those who wish to take advantage of us do so in these New Dark Ages.  We've been dupes for millenia.  

A True Opposition

 

Once upon a time, a long time in fact, several members of a legislative body opposed the acts of tyrants who held near absolute power over a great empire.  They suffered death and exile as a result.

The tyrants were the Emperors Nero, Vespasian and Domitian (I'll dispense with their full names for purposes of this post).  The members of the legislative body were Roman Senators, and followers of the Stoic philosophy.  Most of them were students of the noted philosopher Musonius Rufus, who was also the teacher of Epictetus.  At the head of this post is a painting of a Quaestor reading his death sentence to one of the most prominent of those Senators, Thrasea Paetus.

Rufus himself was exiled, eventually.  It wasn't uncommon for Emperors to repress philosophers, particularly Stoics. They were notably independent, taught that virtue was the only good, and were critical of imperial conduct that wasn't virtuous.  They and their Senatorial students were generally accused of and condemned for conspiracy against the Emperor.  They were invited to commit suicide, or executed, or sent to some remote island or similarly isolated location.

Of course, most of the members of the Roman Senate after the establishment of the Principate by Augustus were obedient due to fear or because it was in their interest to be outstandingly servile .  There were periods of revolt when Senators favored potential claimants to the throne over established Emperors, but for the most part the Roman aristocracts were compliant with imperial rule so long as they maintained their privileged status and limited power.  Nor were Stoics the only ones who dared criticize an Emperor, but their opposition was notable.

But the fact remains that there were principled, moral Roman Senators who objected to the abuse of power by Emperors who possessed near absolute power, and were willing to give up their lives, status, and fortunes to protest that abuse.

It's good to recall their example in a time when far too many of our legislators are little more than wretched, sniveling, cowardly slaves of a wannabe-emperor who have nothing to lose but their position.  While the members of the Stoic opposition to autocrats in ancient Rome sought to emulate the ideal Stoic Sage by refusing to sanction injustice, our representatives are eager to do whatever is asked of them by an autocrat and his besotted followers.  Our representatives emulate Caspar Milquetoast, or perhaps Uriah Heep (the Dickens character, not the band).

Our representatives' timidity isn't admirable.  It merely encourages a continuing effort to defy rather than preserve, protect and defend the Constitution.  If our representatives lack the desire or courage to be true to their oath to support the Constitution, you'd like to hope that they at least have self-respect enough to refrain from groveling so enthusiastically.

Razzle-Dazzle

Sometimes, when feeling despair at the fact that such a large percentage of my countrymen are seemingly incapable of making reasonable judgments based on available evidence, and subject to delusion, I try to comfort myself with the idea that they are not truly saps, but rather are so entertained by the spectacle our politics have become that they simply don't want the show to stop.  What is taking place now would make a good dark comedy, after all.  Perhaps not even a subtle one, subtlety being something lacking in American politics and perhaps even culture, but more of a Marx Brothers' movie along the lines of a farce like Duck Soup or A Night at the Circus, though Groucho was far more clever and intelligent than the main character of this ongoing farce can ever be. Can it be that they are so amused by the freak show that they fear it may end, and so clamour for more and more despite the consequences for our nation?

This is wishful thinking, unfortunately.  It's odd enough that anyone would find this thought a satisfying alternative to what's actually taking place (better a perverse but knowing cynicism than what Mencken would probably have called "boobery"), but no.  We may not be sophisticated enough to be decadent.  Only ignorance and gullibility can explain what's now the case.  Gullibility in particular, I think.  Which brings us to the notion of razzle-dazzle.

This is a word which it seems has its origin in late 19th century American slang.  So, at least, is thought by the editors of the Online Etymology Dictionary which describes it as "a word, app. of U.S. coinage, used to express the ideas of bewilderment or confusion, rapid stir and bustle, riotous jollity or intoxication, etc.  Also, deception, fraud; extravagant publicity."  The rallies we see seem to be a sort of tent show of the kind that evangelical preachers and faith healers used to put on (or do they still?), inspiring the believers to unthinking credulity.  Or, maybe, a magician's act of a sort, in which the misdirection is obvious enough but nonetheless persuasive.  The snake oil salesman has a place in our history.  Perhaps its become an honored one.  Is there a nostalgia for the days of the bumpkin being taken advantage of by the city slicker, which also is a part of our history?

How do we explain the appeal of something or someone so obviously a con?  There must be an explanation.  Razzle-Dazzle seems as good as any.  If it's a peculiarly American word it may also be a peculiarly American tendency, to be dazzled and confused by showy deception.  Do we long, spiritually, for the arrival of the circus or the Wells-Fargo wagon, to bring color to our drab lives?

I find it hard to think of any historical precedent for this situation.  Hitler wreathed himself in Romantic, mystical appeals to a German Volk, a Master Race, and was aided in such claims by philosophical and intellectual loonies like Heidegger, but there is no philosophical appeal being made in this case.  Resentment is being fostered, but not yet to the extent it was in Germany after WWI. Intolerance and the desire for sameness has always been characteristic of Western civilization, but the blithe disregard of honor and virtue we seethe with as a nation is extraordinary.  

I don't think charisma has a place in the mix.  Those involved in this remarkable song and dance have none.  They resemble Willie Loman more than any successful leader in history, good or bad.  They seem gnomish, if not in actual size then in stature and character.  

We can look to the example of Rome in this and other cases, and there may even be some justification in doing so.  Spectacles were wildly popular with the people.  Celebrations of triumphs, the games of the arena, the races of the hippodrome, attracted the attention of the populace and even the most depraved of the Emperors, such as Caligula and Nero, had the admiration of many merely because they kept the people entertained.  Perhaps our future leaders will be entertainers.  They will take residence in Washington as they now do in Las Vegas.  

Maybe this is the new form of American Exceptionalism.  We can hardly be seen as exemplary anymore, but we're certainly distinctive and unique.  Mencken called us boobs, and his assessment was thoughtful.  We're seeking, and may yet attain, a government for the boobs, by the boobs and of the boobs.

Our Willy

Vain, verbose, muddle-headed, ignorant, boorish, morose, opinionated, excitable, scatter-brained, loud-mouthed, meddlesome...all adjectives used at one time or another to describe Kaiser Wilhelm II, the "Kaiser Bill" of fame of the Great War, or World War I as we came to call it after an even greater war (in terms of its extent and destructiveness) came along.

I was asked recently what Roman Emperor the current president of our Glorious Republic most resembled.  I found this required a certain amount of thought.  None of the great monsters who ruled Rome seemed appropriate; Caligula, Nero for example.  One of the most ridiculous of emperors came to mind--Elagablus, I mean--almost immediately, but his oddities were different than those of the present occupant of the White House.  The Empire had many bad emperors, bad for various reasons, but I was hard pressed to think of one who is a match.

The fact is, we have a more recent figure in history who matches this president quite well.  Wilhelm, or "Willy" as his many relatives in similar positions of power throughout Europe would call him, was most of all a nuisance.  But as a ruler of a nation, an autocrat, his influence was vast.  He was a nuisance in internal affairs, a nuisance in foreign affairs.  His ministers did his best to limit his influence, to control his sudden and sometimes inexplicable intrusions into careful plans and negotiations, but to no avail.  He somehow managed to insert himself in a matter and send it spinning into chaos.  He insulted, he repulsed, he badgered.  A colossal and offensive know-it-all, he offended fellow heads of state with words of advice.

His state visits to other nations were stressful to those involved.  Nobody knew quite what he would do or say.  He was made an honorary admiral of the British Royal Navy and apparently took this kindness so seriously he thought it appropriate to express his opinion regarding its operations to those who were actual members of that branch of the British military.  He hounded the poor Tsar unmercifully, always telling him what to do.  He exasperated his grandmother, Queen Victoria.  His cousin Edward, who became King of England, thought him malicious.

It seems that as war approached he wanted peace. He managed, though, to assure war came by his fecklessness and his remarkable ability to take inconsistent positions and stances, generally motivated by whoever it was he happened to speak with last.  Once at war, as might be expected, he was eager for victory, and so became the bane of his generals' existence.  A paranoid, he felt that he and Germany were constantly under appreciated and threatened by all other nations, with the possible exception of Austria, which he merely looked down on.

It appears he actually had some good traits.  He may have lived well enough as an eccentric country gentlemen in other circumstances, as it seems he did after he abdicated at the war's end.  But he was a loose cannon as leader of a powerful nation in a war far too full of cannon of other kinds.

Which brings us, however unwillingly, to the present.  The similarities between these two peculiar men seem evident to me.  But the times are certainly different.  And while Willy's advisers did what they could to control and discourage him from capering too wildly about the world stage, our president's advisers, such as they are, seem incapable of controlling him nor do they seem to want to discourage him.  Neither do most members of the Republican Party who seem content to be complicit with him in many matters.  Except, of course, where the money with which they retain their positions is concerned, and it may be that his antics with tariffs and economic policy may finally bring the various shills who make up the Congress to do what's required to stifle him.

It's a very odd thing, that such a man should be where he is, and it makes one concerned regarding the fate of God's favorite country.  One prefers one's villains to be intelligent, cultivated, knowledgeable if immoral and unworthy.  The devil is a gentleman, so it's said.  A small, mean, petty, ignorant and venal man makes a most annoying bad guy.  Even an embarrassing one.

Trimalchio Ascendant

We all know Trimalchio.   He is an unforgettable character in a surviving portion of the Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter, friend, for a time, of the Emperor Nero.  A former slave, now a freeman, of enormous wealth who is holding a great banquet his friends and those beholden to him attend.  These lavish dinners were serious business to the Romans.  You were, almost literally, nobody unless you were invited to one hosted by the high and mighty, the notorious, the famous. 


Trimalchio's dinner is described in detail, as is Trimalchio himself.  The dinner is many-coursed and remarkable in its excess.  It may be that Petronius' detailing of the dinner and the conduct of Trimalchio, his slaves and friends, served to inspire the belief in Roman decadence which many of us hold so dear, and which has been depicted in various films.


Trimalchio is described as self-important, boorish, arrogant, ignorant, loud, verbose, without breeding or taste.  His ego is astounding.  He even treats his guests to an enactment of what he has decreed will take place at his own funeral; naturally a very grandiose affair, solemnly acting his part as his revered corpse. 


He's referred to with some frequency by authors who lived after Petronius, who died by his own hand when condemned by Nero, spending his last moments, it's said, elegantly and savagely relating the Emperors various faults to those in attendance.  The parties held by Scott Fitzgerald's Gatsby are compared to Trimalchio's feast, for example.  It seems he comes to mind whenever the defects of the very rich and wasteful are in evidence, particularly the newly rich who haven't yet learned to display their wealth with a degree of taste and class.


Alas, he also comes to mind, to my mind in any case, whenever our president-elect is mentioned or appears before me on my TV, PC or smart phone.  He is ubiquitous of course; our technology makes him so, certainly, but he is responsible himself for his omnipresence because of his various invariably silly or smug or angry or sophomoric tweets when not in the public eye, his blatant self-promotion, his stunts, his propensity for overstatement, the enthusiasm with which he extols his many virtues and denigrates those he feels fail to do the same or oppose him in some fashion.  He seems incapable of ignoring any slight, real or imagined.


He won't be a dignified president, I think.  He'll likely be what he's shown himself to be in the past:  a showman, a salesman, a kind of carnival barker and insult comic.  Not what one wants as a president, but as we like to say these days, it is what it is.  He'll schmooze when it serves his purpose, and sulk when things don't go his way.  If he's wise, or if his handlers are, he'll be content to be a kind of figurehead, wheeled out to condemn or praise or make prepared announcements while his people do the hard work of government.  This seems to have been how he's handled his businesses, in fact.  If this is how it will be, he may be safely ignored or become a kind of character in a TV series whose statements are always suspect and whose missteps are mitigated by those surrounding him.  He wouldn't be a serious figure.


We can hope for that, in any case.  We already see a rather extensive about-face on his part.  He blithely ignores the promises and claims he made before the election; his nominees are avidly taking positions contrary to those he's taken.  He will say, it seems, most anything that appears to be advantageous at the moment and then do the contrary if it appears to be advantageous later. 


So perhaps we'll be fortunate, and can watch Trimalchio do what he does now as we watched him as a character in a story told by an ancient author well-acquainted with those like him who were rich and powerful in his time, and having watched will be sadder, but will survive to be wiser.

The Curiously Disturbing Case of Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I've been reading a book by James Romm entitled Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of Nero, and am more than ever fascinated and disturbed by the life of this very able proponent of Stoicism and very able man, who nonetheless taught and facilitated the reign of a possibly demented and undoubtedly unpredictable tyrant.

While I have issues with the sometimes contrived, sometimes cloying and sometimes pompous style of his philosophical writings, there can be no question that he must be considered one of the great Roman Stoics, and that his thought and works have been immensely influential throughout the centuries from his death (he's also a significant literary figure).  He's thought to have championed a milder version of Stoicism which appealed to the Church Fathers (Tertullian called him "our Seneca").  Unlike Epictetus who did not write, and Marcus Aurelius who wrote only for himself, Seneca wrote understanding his work would be published (and no doubt seeing to it himself, as was not unusual for the time), and possibly even with posterity in mind.  So it can be assumed that he did so carefully and in most cases for a purpose.

In some cases he clearly wrote with Nero in mind, such as in his work On Anger, and in some cases with his own advantage in mind, as in the dreadful Consolation to Polybius.  In some cases, in his letters, he may have done so not for any personal or political purposes but with philosophy in mind, or at least the good life.  It's difficult to ascribe purpose to his work in other cases, where he seems--perhaps deliberately--ambiguous. 

"Cautious" may be a good word to describe him after his return to Rome from exile in Corsica at the behest of Nero's mother, the formidable Agrippina.  He had managed to run afoul of the princeps in the past and would not want to do so again.  It's understandable that he would strive not to provoke imperial anger.  It would also seem he was ambitious.  This ambition must, I think, be considered in the context of the time.  Romans of his class (though he was a provincial) were supposed to be ambitious, to attain wealth and high office, to be renowned. 

But it's hard to reconcile ambition and wealth with Stoic tenets, and Seneca became very wealthy and very powerful.  Pursuing public service, though, is consistent with Stoicism. 

When brought back from Corsica to tutor the young Nero, then, it's possible, perhaps even probable, that Seneca thought he was being given a chance to do good; to mold the future ruler of the known world to be wise and merciful (as described in his work On Mercy).  And he may have thought that becoming wealthy and powerful while doing so appropriate and even necessary to the task.  How else influence an emperor, who would likely only listen to the wealthy and powerful?  But it's difficult to accept his reply to those of his time (and subsequent times) who condemned him for his acquisition of wealth as being unworthy of a philosopher, particularly a Stoic, except with a scowl or grimace.  He noted that disdain for wealth was to be expected from a Stoic Sage, but he had not yet attained that status--he was still trying to be a Stoic Sage.  When he became one, presumably, he would not want to be wealthy any longer.  An unsatisfying reply, I think.

But what of his conduct as Nero "matured" in tyranny?  Romm notes Seneca may have played a part in freeing Nero from the dominance of his mother.  She was not herself a saintly figure by any means and may well have been thought to be a bad influence on her son, but Nero unbound was a dangerous man.  It can't be said with certainty that Seneca was involved in Nero's matricide, but it seems clear that he wrote the speech given by Nero to the Senate in which his mother was reviled and her death justified.  Seneca can be said to have done what he could to restrain Nero from his social excesses--his acting, singing, chariot racing and writing of poetry was scandalous given Roman tradition--but eventually he was engaged in this conduct openly.  But just what he did otherwise to restrain Nero is unclear, if he did anything.  Seneca wrote a great deal but said almost nothing at all regarding what took place while he was a senior consultant to the emperor.

Eventually, as Nero grew more dangerous, Seneca offered to grant him all his wealth and retire from politics--twice.  It can be argued this was motivated by purely practical considerations, though, and in an effort at self-preservation.  This is likely so.  But it's difficult to condemn someone in Nero's court for being fearful.  And Seneca could have felt fear not only for himself but for his brothers and his nephew, whom we know as Lucan.  They were known to and within the reach of Nero.

It may be that Seneca believed he was caught in a trap at least in part of his own making, and he could not see his way out.  But he wrote admiringly of those, including Cato, who took their own lives when life became intolerable and they could not live with honor and in virtue.  Why didn't he take advantage of this option himself?  Eventually he did, of course, but only when ordered to dispose of himself by the emperor, having been implicated in a plot to kill Nero.  His nephew Lucan was involved in the plot, but Seneca declined to participate.  Cowardice?  Caution? 

Not cowardice, I think, at least not in the sense of fear of suffering.  His death took a long time.  When cutting his veins would not work effectively, he took hemlock.  All accounts are he died nobly though in great pain.  So caution is more likely; caution and indecision, which are not unusual in old men, and he was old then and likely very tired.

It's bewildering that someone could write so well regarding virtue and the good and yet be so hesitant and ineffective in being virtuous and good in great things.  But perhaps this is a case of the spirit being willing and the flesh weak.  Perhaps it's unfair to think a man in his place to have acted in bad faith, dishonestly.  It's possible to be a good but weak man.  We should consider it possible that Seneca should be pitied rather than reviled.

Hesitant Homage to Hadrian

Publius Aelius Hadrianus Augustus is generally considered to be one of the "Five Good Emperors" along with Nerva, Trajan, Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius, who governed the Roman Empire for a good chunk of the Second Century CE or AD, which ever you may prefer--with some effort I could come up with the appropriate years A.U.C., ab urbe condita, from the legendary founding of Rome, but I am tired. 

I'm uncertain why Nerva appears among the Fantastic Five.  His reign was very short, though not as short as those of the unfortunates who succeeded Nero before Vespasian.  I suppose it may be he does because he had so little time and did so little harm, or had the wisdom to accept Trajan as a successor.  Others may be uncertain why Hadrian has the place he does.

Some of those others are likely to be Jews.  It was during Hadrian's reign that the second great Jewish revolt against Rome took place, and it was an even fiercer affair than the first, lasting about three years.  Under Bar Kokhba the Jews had considerable success, at first.  Success against Rome "at first" was not all that unusual during the time of its greatness; consider Hannibal's many successes.  But Rome, once thwarted, was relentless, ruthless and efficient in retribution, and Hadrian's legions eventually nearly exterminated the Jewish people.  It's thought by some that Hadrian brought the revolt about because he sided so much with the Greeks in their several disputes with the Jews throughout the Empire and because for reasons not entirely clear to me at least he insisted on imposing a Greco-Roman city on Jerusalem, Aelia Capitolina.  This colony was placed more or less over the site of the Jews' ancient Temple, which had been conveniently razed by the Romans in the first revolt.  It's difficult to imagine conduct more likely to enrage the Jewish people.

Hadrian certainly was a great fan of the Greeks and Greek culture, but not quite in the scandalous manner of Nero.  Hadrian didn't pretend to be an actor or a musician, but tried, sometimes, to be a poet.  He would put on Greek dress when in Greece, and was most comfortable when among the Greeks.  And, of course, he was inordinately fond of a particular Greek from Bithynia named Antinous.

The Romans were not as concerned by homosexual relationships as many of us are, though they never seemed to idealize such relationships in the manner of the Greeks; except, perhaps, in the case of the Hellenophile Hadrian.  Antinous died during one of Hadrian's many tours of the Empire, while in Egypt, in the Nile itself, and the circumstances of his death are unclear.  It's been suggested that Hadrian had a hand in the death, or that Antinous killed himself in an effort to secure the health and safety of the aging and increasingly superstitious and death-obsessed emperor.  However, it may simply have been an accident.  What was most remarkable about Antinous was not his death but his worship after his death.

Emperors had been becoming gods on their deaths for some time by then, and in some cases were worshipped as such before their deaths, sometimes in association with the genius or spirit of Rome.  But an emperor's favorite had not been deified for some time, since the reign of Gaius Caligula, who was deemed insane by most who came after him.  Temples to Antinous and statutes of him increased and multiplied throughout the Empire.  It seems some actually took his worship seriously and his worship continued for quite some time.

So why this homage to an emperor who it seems went mad on the death of his lover, like Alexander did on the death of his (or perhaps in imitation of Alexander), and was stupid enough to profane the holiest ground of some of the least cooperative of Rome's many conquered peoples, leading to a great revolt brutally suppressed?

Well, but for the Bar Kokhba revolt, the Empire enjoyed uninterrupted peace during Hadrian's principate.  He wisely withdrew from the territories newly conquered by Trajan which would have been very hard to maintain, and this probably facilitated and extended the pax Romana to the benefit of all inhabitants of the Empire.  He was a multi-talented individual, and in his fashion remarkable as an architect, being responsible for the still-impressive Pantheon, his incredible villa in Tivoli, his wall in Scotland.  He could have taken credit for these achievements in the way typical of emperors and others who caused monuments to be built--by having his name inscribed in the stone--but did not do so.  The name of Marcus Agrippa, who was responsible for the original Pantheon, appears there instead.  He was concerned with all parts of the Empire as his travels showed.  And he assured a safe transfer of power, choosing a solid successor in Antoninus Pius and even assuring that Marcus Aurelius would one day succeed him, thus providing for the rule of two more "Good Emperors."

An unusual and extraordinary man, worthy of respect despite his flaws, in spite of his flaws.

Encountering Las Vegas

I had avoided Las Vegas a long time.  Virtually everyone I know has been there at one time or another, and have returned to it.  But it held no attraction for me.  I have no interest in gambling; it seems unreasonable to engage in a pastime which is ultimately for the benefit of the house.  The shows seemed for the most part indifferent at best.  The stars who perform there are not favorites of mine. 

But it was inevitable, I suppose, that I would get there.  Now I can say, when asked (and I am, often enough) that I have indeed been to Vegas.

Some of those who've felt it necessary to explain their enjoyment of the place claim that it is an excellent venue in which to watch people.  Perhaps it is, if that is what is to be done.  But I think people in Chicago and New York are more interesting if one wants to observe.  Watching people in Vegas is much like watching people in Disneyworld.  Of course, it's often claimed that Las Vegas is a kind of adult Disneyworld, or an adult theme park.  Circus Circus, festooned with creepy clowns, plays into that I suppose.  The clowns are a mistake, I think.  Their very presence would keep me from staying there or even visiting it.  It would be difficult for me to retain any kind of self-respect in such a place.

I was there but a short time, and could not see all that's there to see, but I must admit that what I saw was overwhelming.  The extravagance inspires something approaching awe.  How, one asks oneself, and why, did we human beings create such a place?  The size of the resorts with their casinos is most imposing, indeed sometimes staggering.  I didn't visit them all, but wandered about the Wynn, the Bellagio, the Venetian, the Mirage, and Caesar's Palace.  I remembered Henry James' comment when viewing Roman ruins, something to the effect that people who could build nothing small were as unimpressive as those who could build nothing large.  Henry was something of a schlemiel, I think, but size does weigh on the soul after a time.

Perhaps appropriately, the most extravagant, excessive resort I saw was Caesar's Palace.  The place is colossal, filled with stores, restaurants, bars, faux Roman statuary, fountains, symbols, not to mention the casino.  I couldn't help but wonder if the planners of the resort had Nero's Golden House in mind when it was built.  It wouldn't be surprising if that emperor, who pretended to be an artist though mocked by the Arbiter of Elegance, Petronius, built his Domus Aurea to be much the same kind of place.  Replicas of the famous statue of Augustus are everywhere.  One large replica stands at the entrance from the Strip.  The first Roman emperor seems to be gesturing serenely to the large mock hot air balloon emblazoned with the word "Paris" across the way.  It stands next to the mock Eiffel Tower, which in turn is next to the mock Arc de Triomphe on which the visage of Gordon Ramsey is displayed.

The carnival-type barkers who accost you along the strip are annoying, especially those trying to hand you cards on which young women in skimpy outfits appear.  Somewhat more surprising to see was the gentleman laying on the sidewalk, surrounded by yellow-uniformed police on bicycles.  I hope it wasn't a heart attack, and that he was merely flat out drunk.

Las Vegas is, in fact, a very good place to eat and drink, as it is possible to do so quite well, and I confess I enjoy doing both well.  The buffets the big hotels put on are famous, and I attended one which had such a variety of food in such abundance that it would make Trimalchio cringe with shame.

What I feel about Las Vegas is that it is a ridiculous place, truly absurd, but there is a kind of magnificence to its absurdity.  Absurdity can be amusing when it isn't taken seriously.  It's as if a group of people got together and decided to create a vast joke-city exhibiting the most excessive caricatures of famous landmarks and art humanity has constructed and crafted over thousands of years, where people could gather to laugh at the joke while eating good food and drinking good booze.  No doubt this speaks to the decadent in me, but I liked it.  And yes, like a tipsy MacArthur, I shall return to laugh again.

Second Thoughts on Seneca

I find it hard to make up my mind about Lucius Annaeus Seneca.  His writing makes me cringe, sometimes--particularly the deplorable Consolation to Polybius, addressed to the freedman of the Emperor Claudius.  He often strikes me as sententious in the extreme, given to platitudes he was apparently inclined to foist upon his long-suffering friend, Lucilius, among others.  One thinks of Ben Franklin composing Poor Richard's Almanac, but Seneca seems to lack Franklin's humor and (one hears, and hopes) Franklin's irony.

Then again, there is no doubting his ability.  He must have been a kind of genius, to manage to administer (with Burrus) the Roman Empire during the times of Agrippina and Nero, to have survived the reigns of Tiberius and Claudius having suffered no more than exile to Corsica, write plays which formed the bases for many of those of Shakespeare, and to have had such an effect on European thought and literature for so many centuries.

Famously, he did not survive the reign of Nero; neither, of course, did Nero's mother as well as others, and one of the problems I have with Seneca is that he may have written Nero's apology for matricide to the Senate, or at least tacitly endorsed it by saying, it seems, nothing at all about it.  He died quite nobly, though, if we can take the word of Tacitus on the subject, and Tacitus could be rather savage when he thought it necessary to be towards many of the great names of Roman history.

He is, of course, one of the great Roman Stoics, and was thought of fondly by many of the Christian Fathers, so much so that some forgotten person contrived to create a fraudulent correspondence between him and St. Paul (Seneca's brother was responsible for sending the mischievous Paul to Rome when Paul noted belatedly but somewhat eagerly under the circumstances, one would think, that he was a Roman citizen).  He is considered to have humanized (even "Christianized") the stern Stoic creed along with Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius.

Perhaps his accumulation of wealth and power was a part of that humanizing.  Some of the later Stoics came to consider such things, which should be indifferent to the sage, to be indifferent, yes, but also advantageous, provided one considered them ultimately unnecessary.  Yet it is difficult to tolerate solemn pronunciations regarding the ills of wealth and power, or the fact that they mean nothing, from someone who was one the the wealthiest and most powerful men of his time and seemingly content to be one until Nero began to turn against him.

But he writes well, if in a somewhat artificial, highly stylized manner, regarding important things.  It's difficult not to admire what he wrote and evidently thought.

It's also difficult to assess what kind of person he was based on the accounts we have of the time.  How much of what survived may merely be malicious gossip?  One reads good and bad things about him, but it seems the good outweighs the bad, in the end.

I suspect he was a "man of the world" who sincerely believed in what he wrote, but was very human, and driven by that which motivated the great of his time.  He reminds me in some way of Cicero; vain, but essentially wise.  Not a sage, no.  Capable in any case of good counsel if not always of ideal conduct; interesting, influential, able.  Generally admirable, as far as we human beings are or can be concerned.