Part 1

This morning we are in first-century Rome, with two individuals: Seneca and Nero. Seneca was a gloomy stoic philosopher, and Nero, the Emperor of Rome, was a crazed, bloodthirsty despot. They were rather different from one another—Seneca valued sobriety, reason, and moral virtue, and Nero was the exact opposite; he was a crude, self-indulgent exhibitionist who had incestuous relationships with his mother and sister, who in jealous fits of rage murdered members of his own family. During his 13-year reign as the Emperor of Rome, he brought the Empire to the edge of political and financial ruin. As dissimilar as these two people were, Seneca, the writer, thinker, and poet, was for many years the top adviser and close companion of Emperor Nero. What a truly fascinating pairing.

Seneca was dedicated to the Stoic Creed. Stoicism was a popular philosophy of ancient Rome and Greece. It was all about how you lived your life in an upright, logical way, in which you guarded against the dangers of allowing fear and pain to dictate your actions. By remaining self-controlled, one could become a clear and unbiased thinker, and thus more in tune with the natural order. Being in tune with the natural order meant an acceptance of our fate, our fate dished out by this calamitous world of ours—a world in which every individual must endure suffering, death, loss of loved ones, and deal with the knowledge of their own impending death. We must then accept this reality and make peace with our fate. The Stoics believed our ability to endure under adversity was always greater than we thought.

As you might imagine, Seneca trying to live by this philosophy while keeping the close company of Nero must have been incredibly difficult. Seneca was, in effect, living two lives—his philosophical life that eschewed ambition and material things, and his political life as Nero’s primary adviser. He acted in this capacity for ten years, taking up the office when Nero was only seventeen. As such, Seneca was in effect running the Empire, playing politics at the highest level.

Part 2

When Nero was 13 years old he became heir apparent. Lacking a father, as he died when Nero was young, his mother, who was herself a pretty thorny power broker, sought out the wisest man to be his tutor and mentor as Nero prepared himself to be Emperor. And who better than Seneca? Seneca was already a renowned writer and thinker, but this appointment as Nero’s mentor also gave Seneca a great deal of political power.

It’s difficult to psychologically assess historical figures, but Nero’s mother was a nightmare. This had a major bearing on who Nero became. She was dominating, controlling, and manipulative; she used her son to achieve political power herself, and in his early years as Emperor she was in effect a co-ruler. Their relationship was very unhealthy, full of anger and conflict; her very presence put Nero on edge. Ultimately, this resulted in Nero killing his own mother.

As Nero came to power, Seneca worked behind the scenes calming politicians’ nerves, allaying some of the fears as this angry teenager took up office. After a few years though, Nero really lost it. He became increasingly delusional and self-indulgent; as well as being Emperor, he acted in plays and raced chariots, something previously unheard of. To Nero, Seneca was increasingly becoming a bore, constantly trying to rein in Nero’s excesses, and have him focus on more important tasks at hand. Nero was increasingly surrounding himself with advisers who indulged his fantasies and delusional grip on reality.

Because of all this, Seneca was increasingly viewed as an enemy. As reason and sober governance took a backseat, a plot on Nero’s life started to form—a plot which Nero found out about. And so, as all tyrants cornered in this way do, Nero lashed out violently, having many senior politicians and military leaders killed, and ordering many senior figures to kill themselves.

When things really couldn’t get any worse, the Great Fire of Rome broke out. Rumors were flying around that maybe Nero caused the fire, or Nero was drunk and entertaining guests at the time of the fire, or Nero happily played his fiddle, as Rome burned. None of this is likely. But it undermined his image in the ever-present propaganda war, cementing his reputation as a decadent, out-of-touch moron—a reputation which has endured to this day.

Seneca and the End

So, returning to Seneca: suicide, and death more generally, was a topic that really fascinated Seneca in a somewhat morbid way; he wrote about it a lot. Good men might be forced to do bad things by bad men, but suicide ultimately gives complete freedom to the good man; there is always an escape route available to them. Or as Seneca put it, “Any vein in your body will bring you to freedom.” Suicide to Seneca was a way to reclaim your dignity in the face of humiliation or in the face of being forced to do terrible things.

Ultimately, Nero decided that Seneca must be put to death, and so Seneca, in defiance, did what was perhaps inevitable all along, and committed suicide at the age of 69. I suppose one of the most surprising things about Seneca is the extent to which his writings don’t really seem to reflect the man he was. He spends much time, for example, talking of the virtues of poverty and living simply without material wealth, and yet we know that given his office and status, he was immensely wealthy.

Despite living this rather Machiavellian life, he is known as one of the great moral thinkers not just of his age, but ever. Ultimately then, when we think of Seneca, what emerges is an immensely complex picture. There are at least two Senecas in one body. We could take a negative view of him because of this, and call him a hypocrite, or we could recognize that he, like most of us, cannot be simply explained or categorized. He was human. All too human.

This is of course the challenge we all face—reconciling the lofty ideal with the gritty world. Choosing where to cut against the grain, choosing our battles, and reconciling ourselves to that which is beyond us. There is a Christian prayer which goes a long way in capturing the spirit of Seneca, but also the spirit of Stoicism more broadly. It goes like this:

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen.