The Senate accepted the report, and Nero, at twenty-two, found himself master of the world. Yet what booted it when he was not master of himself! From this time on, the career of Seneca was one of contumely, suffering and disgrace. This was to endure for six years, when kindly death was then to set him free. The mutual, guilty knowledge of a great crime breeds loathing and contempt. History contains many such instances where the subject had knowledge of the sovereign's sins, and the sovereign found no rest until the man who knew was beneath the sod. Seneca knew Nero as only his Maker knew him. After the first spasm of exultation in being allowed to return to Rome, a jealous dread of Seneca came over the guilty monarch. Seneca hoped against hope that, now that Nero's wild oats were sown and the crop destroyed, all would be well. The past should be buried and remembrance of it sunk deep in oblivion. But Nero feared Seneca might expose his worthlessness and the philosopher himself take the reins. In this Nero did not know his man: Seneca's love was literary--political power to him was transient and not worth while. It became known that the apology to the Senate was the work of Seneca, and Nero, who wanted the world to think that all his speeches and addresses were his own, got it firmly fixed in his head he would not be happy until Seneca was out of the way. Sabina said he was no longer a boy, and should not be tagged and dictated to by his old teacher. Seneca, seeing what was coming, offered to give his entire property to the State and retire. Nero would not have it so--he feared Seneca would retire only to come back with an army. A cordon of spies was put around Seneca's house--he was practically a prisoner. Attempts were made to poison him, but he ate only fruit, and bread made by his wife, Paulina, and drank no water except from running streams. Finally a charge of conspiracy was fastened upon him, and Nero ordered him to die by his own hand. His wife was determined to go with him, and one stroke severed the veins of both. The beautiful Sabina realized her hopes--she divorced her husband, and married the Emperor of Rome. She died from a sudden kick given her by the booted foot of her liege. Three years after the death of Seneca, Nero passed hence by the same route, killing himself to escape the fury of the Pretorian Guard. And so ended the Julian line, none of whom, except the first, was a Julian. * * * * *