A story from history
“You will kill yourself,”
Emperor Nero uttered majestically staring straight into the eyes of
Seneca. Seneca had been summoned to the
Palace. When he was ushered in, the
Emperor was playing a violently cheerful tune on his fiddle. He made Seneca stand and listen to his
recital for a long time. Every now and
then he threw a mocking look at Seneca, his former advisor.
“You have the liberty to
choose the means of your death,” the Emperor said with ostensible magnanimity.
“That’s very generous of
you,” said Seneca.
Nero glowered at him for
a moment, ran the bow on his fiddle to produce a culminating crescendo and then
handed over the fiddle to the maid who stood near him holding a chalice of wine.
The Emperor took the wine from her hand just as he handed over the fiddle and
took a sip.
“Death,” said the
Emperor, solemn and mocking at once. “Death
is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all. Which is it for you, Seneca?”
The Emperor was throwing
at him his own words, Seneca knew.
“Man is often more frightened
than hurt. He suffers more from
imagination than from reality,” Seneca said.
“I’m more hurt than frightened. But I embrace reality bravely.”
“Good, good,” the Emperor
chuckled. “You brought this upon
yourself. I had forgiven you too
much. I overlooked all the allegations
against you: corruption, amassing wealth, your lust to be equal to the Emperor.
Yet you dared to conspire against the Emperor.”
“When the Emperor becomes
like the captain of a ship which destroys the little boats in the ocean, he has
no right to sail on.”
“Ha ha ha, the same old
Seneca with wise words. Words won’t save
you now, old man. You once counselled me
that when the captain does not know the port, all the winds are unfavourable to
him. I know the port, old man. You are the iceberg blocking my way.”
“When disasters are
waiting to fall upon a man, he becomes blind.
You don’t see clearly, Nero.
Power has blinded you. Your power
will be useless to you soon.”
Nero gulped down the
remaining wine in his chalice and threw the empty chalice at Seneca. The philosopher ducked and the chalice hit
the wall behind him with a clatter.
“Take him away,” Nero
commanded. “Make sure he is dead before
tomorrow’s sunrise whatever means he may choose for his end.”
 | |||
| Seneca chooses his death |
“I selected my ship when
I went on a voyage, I chose the house for my residence, and now I choose my
death.” Seneca cut the veins on his arms
one by one. “Take me to the bathtub if
the water is hot enough.”
“Every new beginning
comes from some other beginning’s end,” Seneca mumbled as his energy kept
draining into the bathtub whose water turned redder and redder. “A new beginning is awaiting Rome. New … begin…”
You said a lot in just few words. Amazing!
ReplyDeleteAfter giving my first comment, I read it again and saved it for offline reading. It's a masterpiece.
DeleteThank you so much, Ravish.
DeleteSome revelations here!
ReplyDeleteThere's a lot more we could get from Seneca.
DeleteA nice read. History always hide jewels of wisdom, only someone search for that.
ReplyDeleteThat's why I find history fascinating.
DeleteHis bathtub became his sinking ship. But what difference did it make in the end to him who drowned dead under the knowledge of ports and to the other who got blind under the knowledge of ports. Perhaps no-one can know the extent of ports while being on the sea.
ReplyDeleteSeneca was a bundle of contradictions. I couldn't bring even a fraction of the complexity of his character in the story. I didn't want to make it too boring for a blog.
DeleteWhat difference does it all make in the end is a question that has bothered me quite a lot.
Absolutely wonderful! A masterpiece indeed!!
ReplyDeleteThat's a big compliment and I'm grateful.
Delete