I could not describe the villa accurately; for I am familiar only with the front of the house, and with the parts which are in public view and can be seen by the mere passer-by. There are two grottoes, which cost a great deal of labor, as big as the most spacious hall, made by hand. One of these does not admit the rays of the sun, while the other keeps them until the sun sets.
There is also a stream running through a grove of plane-trees, which draws for its supply both on the sea and on Lake Acheron; it intersects the grove just like a raceway, and is large enough to support fish, although its waters are continually being drawn off. When the sea is calm, however, they do not use the stream, only touching the well-stocked waters when the storms give the fishermen a forced holiday.
But the most convenient thing about the villa is the fact that Baiae is next door, it is free from all the inconveniences of that resort, and yet enjoys its pleasures. I myself understand these attractions, and I believe that it is a villa suited to every season of the year. It fronts the west wind, which it intercepts in such a way that Baiae is denied it.
So it seems that Vatia was no fool when he selected this place as the best in which to spend his leisure when it was already unfruitful and decrepit.
There is also a stream running through a grove of plane-trees, which draws for its supply both on the sea and on Lake Acheron; it intersects the grove just like a raceway, and is large enough to support fish, although its waters are continually being drawn off. When the sea is calm, however, they do not use the stream, only touching the well-stocked waters when the storms give the fishermen a forced holiday.
But the most convenient thing about the villa is the fact that Baiae is next door, it is free from all the inconveniences of that resort, and yet enjoys its pleasures. I myself understand these attractions, and I believe that it is a villa suited to every season of the year. It fronts the west wind, which it intercepts in such a way that Baiae is denied it.
So it seems that Vatia was no fool when he selected this place as the best in which to spend his leisure when it was already unfruitful and decrepit.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 55
The suburban town I grew up in was once an interesting place, with a variety of different neighborhoods, or what we called “villages”, each with its own distinct character.
You would also find families from widely different social and economic backgrounds living close together, which made for a wonderfully eclectic mix. An Irish plumber or an Italian contractor might be right down the street from a Yankee lawyer or a Jewish doctor.
That had sadly changed by the time I finally moved away, as almost the whole city became gentrified, or what we at the time called “yuppified”.
Within thirty years, it became impossible for the Average Joe to buy a home that now cost close to a million dollars, and so the working-class folks were slowly booted out, in favor of the supposedly more refined crowd. The house next to mine used to have a battered Ford Pinto in the driveway; now it has both a Lexus and an Acura.
I also do not think it an accident that the people generally became far less friendly and far more snobbish. There was a certain image that had to be maintained, which involved drinking the right wine or coffee and voting for the trendiest politicians.
When I was ten years old, I could politely ask a neighbor for a glass of water while I was playing on his sidewalk, and now he would be more likely to call the police to charge a child with trespassing. You may think I am exaggerating, but I assure you I am not. The “better” people too often end up being the “worse” people.
You may wonder if the presence of greater wealth is the cause, and yet I will suggest that the love of greater wealth is rather just another consequence of a greater anxiety.
People who don’t much like themselves, let alone love themselves, reach out to fill their emptiness with worldly vanities; they pursue fortune and fame precisely because they have never discovered the dignity and the beauty within themselves. They are, therefore, cold and bitter in their words and deeds on account of being cold and bitter in their very souls.
When Seneca describes Vatia’s villa, complete with all of its ridiculous luxuries and the way no one on the outside was ever permitted to look within, I think of how my new neighbors became more and more exclusive, putting up tall fences, elaborate security systems, and imposing gates.
Their extreme privacy was a way to hide their sins, and to somehow deny that the real world around them, the one where decent and honest people toiled, suffered, and died, had ever even existed. They were living a convenient lie.
The important folks in my old hometown can now conveniently drive into Boston, just like Vatia could travel to Baiae, and gratify themselves. Then they can return back to their fortresses of solitude, convinced that they are so righteous and proper. They avoid the pains of life by numbing themselves with their sense of entitlement.
You may run from Providence, but you can’t hide. Your gates will not deny Nature.
The suburban town I grew up in was once an interesting place, with a variety of different neighborhoods, or what we called “villages”, each with its own distinct character.
You would also find families from widely different social and economic backgrounds living close together, which made for a wonderfully eclectic mix. An Irish plumber or an Italian contractor might be right down the street from a Yankee lawyer or a Jewish doctor.
That had sadly changed by the time I finally moved away, as almost the whole city became gentrified, or what we at the time called “yuppified”.
Within thirty years, it became impossible for the Average Joe to buy a home that now cost close to a million dollars, and so the working-class folks were slowly booted out, in favor of the supposedly more refined crowd. The house next to mine used to have a battered Ford Pinto in the driveway; now it has both a Lexus and an Acura.
I also do not think it an accident that the people generally became far less friendly and far more snobbish. There was a certain image that had to be maintained, which involved drinking the right wine or coffee and voting for the trendiest politicians.
When I was ten years old, I could politely ask a neighbor for a glass of water while I was playing on his sidewalk, and now he would be more likely to call the police to charge a child with trespassing. You may think I am exaggerating, but I assure you I am not. The “better” people too often end up being the “worse” people.
You may wonder if the presence of greater wealth is the cause, and yet I will suggest that the love of greater wealth is rather just another consequence of a greater anxiety.
People who don’t much like themselves, let alone love themselves, reach out to fill their emptiness with worldly vanities; they pursue fortune and fame precisely because they have never discovered the dignity and the beauty within themselves. They are, therefore, cold and bitter in their words and deeds on account of being cold and bitter in their very souls.
When Seneca describes Vatia’s villa, complete with all of its ridiculous luxuries and the way no one on the outside was ever permitted to look within, I think of how my new neighbors became more and more exclusive, putting up tall fences, elaborate security systems, and imposing gates.
Their extreme privacy was a way to hide their sins, and to somehow deny that the real world around them, the one where decent and honest people toiled, suffered, and died, had ever even existed. They were living a convenient lie.
The important folks in my old hometown can now conveniently drive into Boston, just like Vatia could travel to Baiae, and gratify themselves. Then they can return back to their fortresses of solitude, convinced that they are so righteous and proper. They avoid the pains of life by numbing themselves with their sense of entitlement.
You may run from Providence, but you can’t hide. Your gates will not deny Nature.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
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