"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 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.

Disappointment in the Law

"There's going to be a lot of disappointment in the law."  So says Justice Sotomayor, or so she said recently in a presentation to law students sponsored by the American Bar Association.

We should be thankful for the warning, but it might be said that the law has always been disappointing in one way or another.  I venture to say that to lawyers, the law may be disappointing on a daily basis.  That may be the case for their clients as well, sadly.  The law isn't satisfying by its nature, being restrictive in many cases, a nuisance in others.

But clearly the Justice wasn't speaking about the law's often disappointing intricacy and obtuseness, or the disappointment caused by its flawed application by some of the many minions of the legal system.  She was apparently referring to something she anticipates will disappoint us in our regard for the law as something which is worthy of regard; in other words, in the law as a representation of justice.  It seems from what she said that she expects to write many dissents in the future.

As I've written before, I distinguish the law from what's moral, and therefore from what's just.  That's to say, I believe the law is the law regardless of whether its considered moral or just.  There may be unjust laws; there may be unjust decisions made by courts.  This doesn't mean they aren't law.

Neither does it mean it mean that laws may not disappoint because they're bad laws or are unjust.  So, Justice Sotomayor, being a member of the Supreme Court, likely means that she expects to be disappointed by decisions made by that august body in the future and expects others will be disappointed as well.

She already expressed disappointment with the decision of the majority of the Court to avoid addressing the Texas abortion law which was the subject of the last post.  "Disappointment" is probably too mild a word to describe what she wrote regarding the majority's evasion.  It's too mild a word to describe what I felt about it.

What she means can't be determined precisely, but I suspect that what she anticipates is that forthcoming decisions by the Supremes should be expected to reflect the positions and, presumably, prejudices of the majority of the Justices who are described as conservatives.  Just what "conservative" means in these dark times is debatable, but given the cases which are scheduled to come before them I'd guess that she anticipates disappointment with decisions in those cases addressing abortion and the Second Amendment, and other cases where individual rights--those viewed as contained within the Bill of Rights especially--are opposed to what would arguably seem to be the public interest.

The conflict between those rights as perceived and the health and welfare of others isn't something new.  And in fact it's been recognized, at least in the past and at least in the law, that those rights aren't absolute and are subject to qualification.  Now, though, it isn't apparent that we possess the intelligence and sophistication required to recognize the need for qualifications, or when we do possess them whether there is enough interest in them for them to be applied.  

Our gun-mad nation seems so enamored of firearms that many believe there is no limitation whatsoever on the desire to acquire, and perhaps even use, them regardless of what they may be.  Anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers are so extreme in their opinions that they seem convinced that their "right" not to wear masks and not be vaccinated must be honored regardless of any risk to others (which they busily downplay in any case).  Already we've seen the First Amendment construed to include "money" as a form of speech, regardless of the propensity for corruption, and corporations granted the right to practice religion or hold religious beliefs without legal restriction.

Members of the "conservative" majority on the Supreme Court are aware that some question their motivations, suggesting that they will make decisions consistent with political positions and prejudices.  So we see them busily denying they will do so, claiming that they aren't "political hacks" and that they aren't a "cabal."  Claiming that they are is said to be an attempt to intimidate the Court.  They sound rather defensive, I think.  Reacting to claims of political motivations by calling them attempts at intimidation emphasizes the significance of such motivations, in my mind.  If political motivations play no part in a Justice's decisions, why would concern about them be considered intimidating by that Justice?

"What power has law where only money rules?" asked Petronius Arbiter, courtier in the court of Nero.  Not much, it would seem; and the power of money is unrivaled when it comes to politics, thanks in part to the Supremes themselves.    Where money is power, the law will protect the moneyed interests.  Those with money will want to keep it, and in a time of limited resources that will mean keeping money out of the hands of others, and the government.  Perhaps this is what Justice Sotomayor fears will foster disappointment in the law.  If not, it's a legitimate fear.  The protection of legal rights, individual rights, is essentially selfish when it comes to gaining and preserving money and power, and that would seem the overwhelming concern of those who already have money, and power. 

The Fate of Satire

Reference to a dictionary will reveal that "satire" is, broadly speaking, a work using humor in such forms as irony and exaggeration to ridicule the vices and stupidity of individuals or entities.  So defined, satire has been around for thousands of years.  In the West, when ancient satirists are considered mention is normally made of Aristophanes among the Greeks, Juvenal, Petronius and Lucian among the Romans.  Martial as well, perhaps, though his satire was far more condensed being in the form of epigrams.  Seneca too, among the Romans, at least for his ridicule of the Emperor Claudius, applying for membership in the fellowship of the gods after his death. There have been many other satirists throughout history--Rabelais, Voltaire, Cervantes, Swift and Poe, for example, are some of the more famous of the lot. 

Satire is generally thought of as a kind of literature, and those named just above are of course writers.  Sometimes, though, drawings and paintings are satirical, like the print by Gillray at the top of this post, called The Plumb Pudding in Danger.  The plumb pudding is, obviously, the world and it's being carved up by William Pitt, Prime Minister of England, and Napoleon, who had by then become Emperor of France.

The quality of satires varies considerably.  So does the kind of humor or style of writing employed by the satirist.  Aristophanes' humor was somewhat farcical, as in his lampooning of Socrates and his circle The Clouds.  Lucian also targeted philosophers and philosophy, as well as other people and things, and was a mocker.  Juvenal's humor was dark and sharp; he had no light touch (I think of his satires as more in the way of rants).  Seneca's satire on Claudius struck me as more cruel than witty.  Rabelais seems to have made use of absurdity in Gargantua and Pantagruel.  Petronius' humor was deadpan, in my opinion.  His Trimalchio is unquestionably vulgar and pompous, but Petronius makes this evident merely by describing his statements and conduct, rather than commenting on them.  Irony seems to have been Swift's weapon of choice.

In these dark times, there's a concern by some that wit and humor, which would include satire, are being restricted if not entirely eliminated by the tendency of some others to condemn those who use them in referring to certain people or groups of people who are perceived as being or having been treated unjustly because of their difference from what's considered normal.  The most recent example that comes to my mind relates to the character Apu in The Simpsons and the apology made by Hank Azaria (his "voice") for his contribution in the stereotypical (though intended to be humorous) depiction of the character running a convenience store.  The apology caused John Cleese, formerly of Monty Python, to apologize for mocking white people as part of that group.

Cleese's point is fairly obvious, I think--that humor, and satire, are used in reference to all people indiscriminately, and should be.  In other words, that no one should be exempt from mockery merely by virtue of what they are.

That makes a certain sense, as does a related claim being made in these dark times--that nobody should be discriminate against, and therefore treating certain people better than others because or their race or religion, for example, is wrong.  From that, of course, it follows (or so it's claimed) that white, Christian people are being discriminated against when others are given certain advantages or benefits, or are deemed to have special claims to be satisfied.

In order for that position to accepted as appropriate, however, it's necessary to assume that we all are in the same position when it comes to treatment by each other, society and government.  If we existed on the fabled "level playing field" then a case can be made that favoring one group or person over another merely because they have a certain skin color or religion or other characteristics would be unjust.  That playing field doesn't exist, however, and never has existed.  To pretend that it does for purposes of complaining about discrimination against currently privileged people is fatuous, and indeed unworthy.  

When we insist that we should treating each other as if we all existed on a level playing field, we acknowledge that it would be desirable that we should live on that level playing field.  If we acknowledge that, though, we have to admit that we don't at this time, at least if we're honest.  So, one would think it would also be desirable that levelling steps should be taken,  But that would mean that those underprivileged or discriminated against unjustly, here and now, be benefited more than those who are not. Unfortunately, that's not something the haves are normally willing to grant the have-nots, particularly if that would mean the haves would have less than they do now.

So, I don't think this is a viable position, even when it comes to humor.  Does that mean that humor, and satire, will inevitably disappear?  

I doubt it, unless we expect that the kind of totalitarian society envisioned by the notoriously humorless Plato and put into place by such as Stalin and Mao will be our future.  The great Roman satirists lived in Imperial Rome, not exactly a free society, and managed to thrive.  I don't think shaming of the kind being practiced now will significantly restrict our tendency to mock and ridicule each other.  As well expect that wars will end.  Perhaps the more egregious kind of ridicule will be reduced, which wouldn't be a bad thing.  Satire is best when it is witty and subtle, not blunt and obvious or offensive.  It will survive all the moralists of this time as it has in the past.

Tom Wolfe: An Appreciation

I was always a fan of what was called the "New Journalism" as practiced by Tom Wolfe and a few others.  I particularly liked his Radical Chic which so devastatingly mocked the propensity of rich, intellectually-inclined white who hosted events for such as the Black Panthers, and mocked Leonard Bernstein in particular,.  "New Journalists" as I understood them included Norman Mailer, whose Armies of the Night and Miami and the Siege of Chicago were personal favorites.  Then of course there was Hunter S. Thompson, though he I think was referred to as  Gonzo Journalist, perhaps because his new journalism was associated with the intake of drugs.

It's odd, then, that Mailer was among those who criticized Wolfe for not really being an artist or novelist, despite the fact or perhaps because he wrote so well.  John Updike was a critic as well.  I've never had enough interest in Updike to read any of his work.  Mailer interested me, though I thought his writing would become grotesque now and then, particularly when the subject being addressed was sex.

Wolfe's journalism was very good indeed.  The Painted Word and From Bauhaus to Our House are impressive.  But I find it hard to understand why his novels failed to pass muster with some; why they're considered somewhat lacking by other novelists.  I suspect, though, that this is the case merely because they tell interesting stories and tell them well, and also sell well.

Wolfe's novels are picaresque, in the sense I think that the Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter and The Golden Ass of Apuleius are as well.  They're adventures involving protagonists who are recognizable who encounter ordinary and extraordinary circumstances and react to them in ordinary and extraordinary ways.  Most of all, they're enjoyable.

It may be that art has come to mean that which cannot be enjoyed, that which is not entertaining.  Art is supposed to inspire in us some feeling which isn't associated with pleasure, being too profound.  It can be disturbing, grim.  It must cause us to think--never a pleasant experience for most of us.  It may move us to tears or anger.  It is supposed to evoke some strong emotion.

That may be so, but if so is dispiriting, I think, for the artist and those who patronize the artist or his/her work.  What we experience in life can be dreary enough.  Why seek to create dreariness, or seek out such creations, when we're exposed to it in "real life" and allow it to disturb us from moment to moment?

In dark times, entertainments are few and become coarse.  Those who can tell good stories and tell them well, with wit, imagination and intelligence, should be honored as much as any; perhaps even more.

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.

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.

On the Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter

Well, it was written by someone, in any case, and it seems it could have been the man known to us as Petronius Arbiter.  Most of us may know that man as a result of his portrayal in the novel Quo Vadis if not through Tacitus.  The sophisticated, cynical (in the modern usage) "arbiter of elegance" in the court of Nero, a voluptuary who nonetheless was a very able governor and consul, a kind of later Sulla who did not exercise significant military or political authority but seemingly had the ability and gravitas to do so when needed.

The Satyricon is a fascinating work, and I think may be said to be a work of genius, the first of its kind, a predecessor perhaps of the work of Rabelais and Cervantes, the first picaresque novel or work of fiction.  I remember trying to read it years ago.  I write "trying" because it was not an easy book to find, and because its many naughty bits (as they would say on Monty Python) were rendered in Latin interruptions to the English of the translations that I found.  I thought this most annoying.  Now, of course, the work is available in translation with all those bits on display.  I cannot say with certainty how I would have reacted to them had they been available in the halcyon days of my adolescence, but they are by today's standards at least relatively tame.  One might only find the rampant bisexuality evident in the characters to be surprising in these times. 

Sex certainly is a preoccupation of those characters portrayed in the book, as is food.  The feast of Trimalchio may be deemed a digression, but if so it is fantastic one.  I have to wonder whether the author's description of the incredible dishes served up at the feast was based on actual dinners he had attended simply exaggerated for effect or his own imaginative creations.  Some say Trimalchio is intended to be Nero, some say he is a satirical rendering of the vulgar, wealthy freedman patricians came to loathe in those times.

From what we read in Martial and Juvenal, a great deal of importance was ascribed to appearing at the dinners of the wealthy and powerful in ancient Rome.  I'm not certain whether this was due to the culinary delights available or the significance of being seen at such events.  I suppose both were factors.  Perhaps Trimalchio's feast mocks those events and those who attended them and thought them important.

The characters of the work are, of course, irredeemably shallow and materialistic, which may be expected in a work of satire (and we certainly find such characters in Juvenal).  The Satyricon has among other things been looked upon by the Christian successors of the Empire as evidence of its decadence, and the unholiness of all things Pagan as a consequence.  It is debatable whether such satires are more a testament to the morals of their creators than the prevalence of what they hold up for contempt.

Admirer and emulator of the Stoics that I am or try to be, though, I have a sneaking fondness and regard for the work and for its reputed author, Petronius.  I feel as though there is a kind of resemblance between Petronius and another of Nero's mentors, Seneca.  Both men may have seen Nero for what he was, and felt contempt for the times in which they lived and the morals of those they lived among.  But they played along, for a time, for one reason or another.  Perhaps Seneca felt that he could exercise a degree of benign control over Nero and events; perhaps Petronius felt there was nothing to be done but make the best of things while deploring them.  Perhaps both felt themselves superior to those about them, but caught up in a kind of play in which they were compelled to play their parts.  Seneca consoled himself by writing wise counsel on how to live in the Stoic manner; Petronius mocked those who lived as they did at the time. 

Both died nobly, though, I think, when Nero felt they could no longer be tolerated.  Some might say they should have departed from life earlier, finding it to be intolerable.  It's hard to condemn a man for wanting to live, however.  Living as best one can in terrible times is admirable in its own way.