Waki Waltari

The Roman by Mika Waltari

Since meeting Seneca, I had come to hold him in great esteem, for there was nothing on this earth upon which he could not give a sensible, mild and considered opinion in his well-schooled voice. But I wanted to see if the wise man’s imperturbability also withstood man’s natural conceit.

Of course Seneca saw through me. He was not stupid, but it must have pleased him to hear his own thoughts quoted alongside those of the authorities of the past. I was also cunning enough never to mention his name in my quotations, since that would have been rather too crude flattery, but I just said, “The other day I read somewhere,” or “I’ll always remember a word . . . “

Puberty to Nero was sheer torment, and then he received his mantoga when he was fourteen. He carried out the sacrifice to Jupiter like a man, neither breaking down nor repeating himself as he read the sacrificial litany. The liver showed nothing but good omens. He summoned back Rome’s youth and the Senate agreed unanimously, without the slightest protest, that he should receive the rank of Consul when he was twenty, and thus as Consul, the right to a seat in the Senate.

At this point an envoy arrived from the famous island of philosophers, Rhodes, to apply for the reinstatement of freedom and self-government to the island. I do not know if Claudius had become more favorably inclined toward the people of Rhodes, but Seneca considered that it was the most favorable moment for Nero to make his maiden speech in the Curia. With Seneca’s help, Nero secretly prepared for it with great care.

My father told me that he had been astounded when Nero, after the envoy’s speech and a few sarcastic remarks from the Senate, shyly rose to his feet and said: “Honored fathers.” Everyone came awake. When Claudius nodded his consent, Nero moved to the oratory platform and enthusiastically outlined the history of Rhodes, the island’s famous philo-sophers and the great Romans who had completed their education there.

“Has not this rose-colored isle of wise men, scientists, poets and orators already suffered enough from her blunders? Is she not entided to her praise?” . . . and so on.

When he had finished, they all looked at Claudius as if he were a criminal, for it was he who had robbed this noble island of her freedom.

Claudius felt guilty and Nero’s eloquence had moved him.

“Don’t stare at me like cows at a gate, my fathers,” he said sourly. “Make a decision. You’re supposed to be the Senate of Rome.”

 

 

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The vote was taken and Nero’s proposal received nearly five hundred votes. My father said that what he had liked best was Nero’s modesty. In reply to all the congratulations, Nero merely said, “Don’t praise me, praise my tutor.” He went up to Seneca and embraced him in full view of everyone.

Seneca smiled and said, so that everyone could hear, “Not even the best tutor can make a good orator of an untalented pupil.”

Nevertheless, the elders among the senators did not like Seneca, for he lived like a man of the world and, according to them, had watered down the strict old Stoicism in his writings; They also said he was much too inclined to have handsome boys as his pupils. But this was not entirely Seneca’s fault. Nero hated ugliness to the extent that a deformed face or a disfiguring birthmark took away his appetite. Anyhow, Seneca never made any advances to me, and he would not let the all-too-affectionate Nero kiss his teachers.

After his appointment as Praetor, Seneca was mostly concerned with civil cases which in themselves were more difficult and involved than criminal cases, since they were concerned with property, ownership, building plots, divorces and wills. He himself said he could not bring himself to condemn anyone to flogging or execution. He noticed that I faithfully listened in on all his cases and one day made a suggestion to me. “You are a talented young man, Minutus Lausus,” he said. “You are as fluent in Greek as you are in Latin and show an interest in legal matters, as befits a true Roman. Would you consider becoming an assistant Praetor and, for instance, digging out old precedents and forgotten decrees in the tabularium under my supervision?”

I flushed with pleasure and assured him that such a task would be a great honor. Seneca’s face clouded over.

“You realize, I suppose,” he remarked, “that most young men would give an eye to have such an opportunity to get ahead of his rivals in the line of office?”

Of course I realized this and I assured him I was eternally grateful for such an incomparable favor. Seneca shook his head.

“You know,” he said, “by Rome’s standards, I am not a rich man. At the moment I am building myself a house. When it is finished, I hope to marry and put an end to all this talk. I presume you administer your estate yourself and could pay me some compensation for my legal tuition?”

 

 

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