_Thr._ Well spoken, son.
No better wish than that we all may die
Bravely as she.
_Sen._ So be it! Now let us sit. (_They sit._)
And I between (_sitting_). I would so spend this hour,.
That ye shall not forget it in after-days,
When ye think of me. ’Tis the last time, friends,
That ye will sup with me.
_Pr._ Nay, say not so:
I trust you have escaped.
_Sen._ Look on yon sun:
An hour hence he will set; and now he sinks
Smiling eternal promises. Ye both
Shall see him rise, but I—I shall not see it.
This tree shall hang its branches, and another
May sit and comfort his poetic sadness.
As I have done, only not I: I only
Not here ... not there, where I have been: all things
Have hitherto existed with me, henceforth
All will exist without me.
_Pr._ Have more hope. 2600
_Sen._ Nay, it is so; what else could Cæsar mean?
_Thr._ Your answer may convince him.
_Sen._ Nay, good Thrasea;
These be the last hours of my life: I’d say
To you, my friends, what I have most at heart.
And first rejoice with me that I depart
With all my senses perfect, not as some,
Tortured by pain and praying for release;
Nor like a man, who walking in the dark,
Comes to a brink upright, and steppeth over
Unhesitatingly, because he knows not.
Nor is my term much shortened, I shall die
Like aged Socrates, and with his hope
That the spirit doth not perish;—I mean not
A senseless immortality of fame:
That I shall have, but more I’ll have; I dream
Of life in which I may be Seneca again,
Seneca still.
_Thr._ Now if thou couldst convince us,
Seneca, of that, ’twere worthy thy last hour.
Teach me to picture what thou thinkst to see,
That land betwixt oblivion and regret;
Where is’t? how is it?
_Sen._ It lies not in the scope
Of demonstration, Thrasea; but my heart
Bears witness to it: the best that I could say
Is in my books. What all mankind desires,
The mind requires; what it requires believes: 2625
And calls it truth. I hold that one God made us,
And at our death receives our spirits kindly:
We shall meet elsewhere those whom we leave here.
_Pr._ This will not comfort Romans: Nero again,
And Tigellinus....
_Sen._ Why may there not be
Distinction, Priscus, as old fables tell;
Rewards for good, and punishments for ill?
The myths are gross and brutal, but philosophy
Finds reason in religion.
_Thr._ Then the vulgar,
’Gainst whom you have waged your philosophic war,
Hold the last truth.
_Sen._ The sanction of all truth
Lies in our common nature. A religion
Based on the truth of what all men desire
Must carry all before it.
_Thr._ But you said
Philosophy found reason in religion.
What is your ground?
_Sen._ My first is this, that else
All were unjust. It needs a second life
To set this even.
_Thr._ You have not found in life
Its own reward?
_Sen._ Nay, I have not.
_Thr._ I know not
If ’tis not sadder, this profound impeachment
Of God’s whole constitution as we see it,
Than the belief that death’s our end of all.
To live in conscious harmony with nature
May satisfy our being; but religion
Looks like the poetry which childhood makes 2650
To cloke its empty terrors, or bedizen
Its painted idols: such is my persuasion.
_Pr._ And mine.
_Sen._ Ah, Priscus, thou art young. I once
Looked forward into life with a proud heart,
Nor saw the exigency and irony
Of all-subduing Fate. Consider, Priscus,
Whether your father’s virtue or Nero’s crimes
Have found their recompense.
_Pr._ If Thrasea’s heart
Is comforted by virtue, sir, and Nero
Made wretched by his crime ...
_Sen._ Then put it thus:
If any were to make a tragedy
Of these events, how would it pass or please,
If Nero lived on at the end unpunished,
Triumphing still o’er good?
_Thr._ Yes, Seneca:
But see you make not now your god of the stage
The God of Nature. Our true tragedy
Is just this outward riddle, and the god
That mends all, comes not in pat at his cue
On a machine, but liveth in our hearts
Resolving evil faster than it falls,
As the sun melts the snow.
_Sen._ ’Tis not enough,
Thrasea, ’tis not enough: there must be more.
* * * * *
Hear you a tramping? That is Cæsar’s men:
They will surround the garden. Come aside.
(_Comes to front with Thrasea._)
Stand by me, Thrasea, to the last. I would not 2675
Slur the last act of life. Be thou my witness
Of word and deed.
_Enter Paullina with Fannia, who goes to Priscus._
_PAULLINA._
O Seneca, they are come;
They are come again.
_Sen._ Dear wife, remember, and help me.—
See, friends, the sun is almost set; ’tis time
We went within.
_Pau._ Alas! (_weeping._)
_Sen._ (_to Paullina_). Thy tears distract me,
And shame us both.
_Enter a Centurion._
_CENTURION._
Annæus Seneca!
_Sen._ Well, sir: thy message? Art not thou Silvanus,
That stoodst with Rufus and with Subrius Flavus?
How hast thou wriggled out?
_Cent._ I am Silvanus,
And bring thee Cæsar’s bidding.
_Sen._ Is it death?
_Cent._ ’Tis death.
_Pau._ Shame on thee.
_Sen._ Hush, wife: be brave.—A man
Need not be shamed, sirs, that his wife bewail him.
(_To Paullina._) Go thou, Paullina, fetch my will.
_Cent._ Stay, madam:
’Tis not allowed.
_Sen._ This is unkind: my wealth
Was Cæsar’s gift: but now he takes from me
More than he ever gave, my life: ’tis mean
To grudge me my last freedom, the little use
I’d make of his old favours. I but wished
To leave mementoes to three loving friends,
Who have supped with me to-night.—In lieu thereof
The example of my constancy shall be
More lively undelayed by gentle speeches
And farewell gifts. Come with me, all is ready.
_Cent._ I await thee.
_Sen._ Farewell, friends! Farewell, Paullina!
_Pau._ Not to me here.
_Sen._ Yes, we must part: the day
Is not much hastened. See how skeleton-like
Already the hand, with which I go to shear
The filmy threads of life.
_Pau._ But I will die
With thee.
_Sen._ Be still. Let not thy heart rebel.
Now is the hour of proof.
_Pau._ If ’twere God’s will.
_Sen._ All is God’s will: and as we lived together
In love, so now we part.
_Pau._ Why should we part?
What thou doest I will do: I fear not death.
I’ll hold my little candle by thy sun....
_Sen._ It may not be. Use thy high courage rather
To live. Yes, live in peace: live long.
_Pau._ With thee
Murdered! Alas!
_Sen._ Give me thy last embrace.
_Pau._ Was not my faith then true? Are we not one?
_Sen._ Yes, yes: we are one.
_Pau._ Then now forbid me not
To die with thee.
_FANNIA._
Do not this thing, madam!
_Pau._ Nay, hold me not!
_Sen._ Paullina, dost thou make
This desperate choice truly with all thy heart?
_Pau._ With all my heart.
_Sen._ Thou dost? Dear wife, I thought
Cæsar could part us: now I can forgive him.—
To you, my friends, farewell! Thrasea, farewell!
Priscus, farewell! Fannia, farewell!—Paullina,
(_Taking her hand_)
Since thou canst dare, we will go hand in hand
To learn the mighty secret; we will set forth
Together unto the place where all have gone. 2724